Best Enacting Poems
Look as far and as wide as you can, my friend,
Turn your eyes towards the sky and try to pierce infinity-
This vast unknown-
Ponder about its existence
Let not a single thing unexamined
Any stunning flower untouched
Any majestic bird unobserved
Any magnificent fish unnoticed
And tell me
Isn't life a miracle?
An unbelievable story?
An inconceivable design?
Yet
A mesmerizing reality?
Look how heaven and earth are put together:
A harmonious whole operating with such precision and
With a single purpose in mind- LIFE!
Tell me, could this great design be the outcome of chance?
Of a hazardous consequence?
Or
The work of blind forces?
Look closer my friend, once again,
Pay attention to the details of this incredible miracle of life
Look how things are so wisely operating
Observe the relationship between a flower and a bee
How they are interrelated,
Interconnected and
Interdependent
Marvel how, although they both are so transient,
They maintain eternity
Note the way they obey the cosmic laws
Thus
Enacting the choreography of life and death that divinity has conceived
And by doing so they become divine themselves and their art holy
Let us, my friend,
Be inspired by them and let us create our own
Harmonious coexistence
Our own choreography, inspired by God,
For
To incarnate His will in reality
So as to glorify His creation
And us to live in peace as He meant us to live!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
06 August 2019
* This is my 2400th poem.
Thank all those who have commented on my poems since 2012! I also thank PoetrySoup because they have helped my poems become known thus they were published in books and anthologies. Soon, I think to stop posting. God bless you all my friends.
Categories:
enacting, flower, god, men, universe,
Form:
Free verse
Midnight hangs in deepened revelation
as the cry of elegy flows within its waiting,
hazy tears burst to deny sleep’s interval
when baby - lullabies end all pleasant leisure;
and a mother sighs from vague acceptance
enacting the glee that cradles her child’s form.
Dusk engulfs in soft hue of threadbare beam
while the weary world rests in peace
that droopy stars bow to a grief, an ache
lingering: O her words break like shattered glass…
where that shift between hesitation and mourning,
pale moonlight releases its role of night guardian.
The birds become her voice of parting
for their coos recall a babe ‘s laughter, g o n e,
D.o.n.e … how silence welcomes again
the requiem of another night coming.
--------------------
Words Drowned In Tears Contest
Sponsor: Broken Wings 10/21/2016
Categories:
enacting, angst, death,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
No encore demanded, I stand alone
No applause as I hang up my ‘microphone’
But what do they care, for no empty chair
Has ever acknowledged good tone
I took to this stage in a different age
I think then, the Stones were the rage
Yet, I’ve appeared here, daily for years
And sung like a songbird uncaged
But this, my last bow, arthritic now
Elicits no ‘Bravo’ or ‘Wow’
I gave it my best, my stage put to rest
A field I can no longer plough
For fifty years hired, tomorrow retired
This caretaker? No longer required
So thanks for the chance, to sing and to dance
Enacting the dreams I desired
My time to go, my time to rest
The silence now, inside my chest
Applause resounds, my lights go down
I take my leave, where I lived best
Categories:
enacting, death, retirement,
Form:
Rhyme
Gestures beckon gestures,
Speech caresses silence,
Laughter accompanies the seductive sways of smiles,
The beautiful bliss of our starry eyes gone astray;
Then caught and locked in a stir of longing for each other.
None, but a tale of fantasy,
Re-enacting the dé·jà vu of a dream.
A dream; an all-discerning vision
Relentlessly unfolding a heart-stricken revelation.
An exposition of the future’s past.
Relishing; this past, indeed. In a one we go a-dancing;
Yet still, in exchange of smothering kisses, beneath the cover of darkness
With flames of a soaring passion burning; our bonded souls to sooth
Urging the sweet cravings of yearning desires, us to consume
In our intoxicating state of peaked pleasure,
In our hypnotizing exile of uncontrollable ecstasy.
How soon this liquor of love runs out
Pour me another glass, please……
A toast, in honor of our non-existing love
Cheers!!
Categories:
enacting, fantasy, lost love, love,
Form:
Free verse
Smooth like glass the ground slithers all along
The beat goes down the street singing a song
Surface delights to even the roughest
Slipping, sliding enacting the toughest
Colors reflecting all throughout the way
Making the wet road seem cold in the day
Breaking down the path, hard surface below
Open ways to freedom, which shine and glow
Not a grey moment is felt here today
Sunlight blares and sends the water astray
The path still holds its glossy appearance
Lending a great image, leaving a trance
The path shines with an iridescent sheen
Letting us to venture down the best seen
Russell Sivey
Categories:
enacting, life,
Form:
Sonnet
To never close my eyes again
Whispers call out
silent forests
of slumbering trees
wave weary branches
on the wind
Voiceless in the vast darkness,
still shadows dwell
midst motionless thoughts
gathering in a
blurred clearing
Where I seek you,
not in part, pieces
not in dreams
but complete before
my longing view
So that my visions
enchant beyond any imagination,
fading the whispers,
enacting this affection
held forever
To never close my eyes again
Good night Soupers
Categories:
enacting, good night,
Form:
Free verse
Flimsy fig leaf camouflage,
subterfuge reveals montage,
mind games at play everyday,
as conscience to rest we lay.
Enacting oneupmanship,
demons of mind we worship,
anchored in hypnotic trance,
enticed by dark desire’s dance.
Engaging in acts feral,
we find our soul’s in peril,
yet we wear the fig leaf mask,
making weary earth life task.
Naked one day before God,
our lower mind’s overawed,
for the web of deceit spun,
needs by us, to be undone.
By our hand, committed theft,
we find ourselves love bereft,
thus reincarnate again,
to erase our soul’s dark stain.
Harking to the divine call,
seeds of love sown, we stand tall,
same inside out, transparent,
vibrant in the bliss current.
28-March-2022
HMS
This or That, Vol 11 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Categories:
enacting, spiritual,
Form:
Jueju
Soon the forest would reveal its dark secret
Poems are written. Music is composed. Ballets are staged.
In enacting suspense-filled plays, each creature is engaged.
Mysteries, like petals of blossoming flowers, unfolded.
As sketched by nature, the shapes of plants and trees are moulded.
Midway through the brawl for existence, the fittest survive.
From Mother Earth, life-giving nectar, all creatures derive
Do trees pay tax as per their heights, and do beasts as per strength?
Which creature has measured the forest's height, breadth, width, and depth?
What serenity between drops of the flowing fountain!
Isn't there a transmission of peace between each mountain?
The food cycle and water cycle roll like the planets.
Prey and predator eye each other in forage facets.
Owls, bats, hawks, frogmouths, and nightjars share nocturnal secrets.
Some feed others. Some feed on others. There are ruts, no riots.
The gentle breeze soothes the soul, though the gales disturb
Love lives long, between the strongest tree and the weakest herb.
Doors of forests, yet, like puzzle-filled caves, are numerous
Amidst sunshine, unknown nooks in it are voluminous
Categories:
enacting, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
How may we describe the fragrance of our soul,
which dwells within this earth vessel we adorn,
as we shape shift, hoping one day to feel whole,
noticing that we are with each breath reborn,
whilst enacting playfully, our ordained role,
nonchalant in tempests of both praise and scorn?
Transcending opposites, we’ve reclaimed soul’s light,
with love drenched heart pulsating with bliss delight.
Categories:
enacting, self, spiritual,
Form:
Ottava rima
Around a campfire children sat
Trading stories of ghouls ghosts and bats
Shrieking with laughter and delicious fear
A reminder of Halloween drawing near.
One child stayed quiet with a ghostly expression
Until all fell silent then he called to session
A story so scary, so wicked, so grim-
-That when it was done he was ripped limb from limb.
They tried him for witchcraft, acting as judge and jury
Then acted executioner enacting their fury.
They left his corpse by the campfire that night
Then left for their homes with the mornings bright light
They tried to forget the horrors they’d done
Then realized the horrors had only begun.
When toys turned to bones in the sweet little hands
Sanity swept by the wayside like sand.
All through the night and all through the day
The children heard whispers, nerves started to fray.
The story they killed for then tried to forget
Echoed around them weaving it’s net
The poor blood thirsty children started to scream
The boy’s scary story found its way to their dreams.
Parents got worried, and started a panic
You know how parents are when they get frantic
They locked all their children away out of fright
Not knowing their kids were the monsters that night.
These horrors continued till a year to the day
When the boy told the story and with his life paid.
Each child involved gave their parent the slip
Then made their way to that old fire pit.
They cried tears of panic, and fear, and remorse
When they saw the small child’s picked-apart corpse.
“We beg for forgiveness” They screamed to the air
They ripped at their skin, and they pulled out their hair
With the hair and the skin an a bit of old leather
They put the poor boy’s body back together.
Now every year as it draws near Halloween
If you listen closely you’ll still hear the screams
Of the children’s last moments that echo forever
Killed by the boy that they put back together.
Categories:
enacting, dark, death, evil, halloween,
Form:
Rhyme
I am at once pleased and saddened that I have taken your life,oh great creature
of the forest.
I am pleased because I have invested many years honing my woods lore and
shooting skills for this final result.
I am saddened because I have killed one of God's most beautiful creatures for
uncertain reasons.
I don't need your flesh to sustain my family nor your hide to clothe them.
I question myself constantly because I seem to focus an inordinate amount of
time day-dreaming about forthcoming hunts and re-enacting old hunts in my
head.
I question why I am obsessed with checking and re-checking my hunting
equipment as the fall days shorten.
I question why I expose myself to the abuse of the natural elements--drenching
rain, freezing snow and biting winds, waiting for you to materialize.
I especially question this hidden force of ancient origins that drives me to take
your life.
I am satisfied that I have not killed just for the sake of killing--that there is
something deeper, more spiritural at stake. Perhaps I'm attempting to capture a
modicum of your nobility, your sheer beauty and ability to live free, for myself.
Regardless of the answers to these probing questions and as I kneel next to
your lifeless body, I do ask for your forgiveness and promise that your mortal
remains will not be wasted and that the cherished memories of this hunt will
remain with me for the balance of my life.
Categories:
enacting, animals, forgiveness, nostalgia, philosophy,
Form:
Lyric
Over the years of enacting roles varied
Daughter, sister, wife, mother flurried
No panacea, this strife
Bout of cancer, rife
And it take
Life!
I did ache
Listen to the fife
Approaching to kill, a knife
Ruthless and scary, I was buried
Over the years of enacting roles varied
© Nadiya(09 Feb '15)
* Placed 1st in the contest 'What life means to me' by Jerry Curtis on 10 March 2015
Placed 10th in the contest 'An invented form' by Andrea Dietrich on 23 Feb 2015
Categories:
enacting, cancer, death, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Who am I today?
Husband, Father, Son or Brother
A noble thought that gives itself away,
Or some distant, self-obsessed Other?
What shape I don tomorrow
Who can say
If I shall move across my stage
Enacting joy or sorrow?
What tides shall bear me
To what familiar or what stranger port
Whose ears shall hear, whose eyes shall see
Old things or new, of unfamiliar sort
Come crowding 'round my senses,
Who may know
What meanings they may bring,
Or how assault
My incomplete defenses?
For I am, at base, like every man
A shambling, shapeless Legion
Who strives for sense as best he can
Within the compass of his crowded reason,
Bounded fore and aft by birth and death,
Seeking for some middle way
Amidst the crowd he is;
To speak some sense with his last breath.
Categories:
enacting, angst, confusion, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
If I had a week all to myself,
And could put life on hold, high up on the shelf;
How I would spend it, you want to know -
Well let’s see now, if I can give it a go.
Unlike God, on the first day, I would rest,
Before giving my endurance the ultimate test.
Sleep a lot on that very first day;
Catching up on what sleep has gotten away.
Then on that second day my motor would roar,
Visiting all the places that I’ve lived before.
Not in an attempt to relive my youth
Just giving my memory a dose of the truth.
Then on the third day I would sit back and relax;
Catching up on some movies I’ve missed in the past.
Watching with my wife in a theater for two;
Re-enacting some love scenes when the movies are through.
Then on the fourth day I’d like to go on a hike
And cruise some dirt trails on a new mountain bike.
Take my kayak on a rapidly flowing river;
Excitement, this day, I hope would deliver.
On the fifth day I would like to give something back
And visit a local children’s hospital, in fact.
Bring along toys and puppets and clowns;
Try painting some smiles on little kids’ frowns.
Day number six and day number seven
I would spend at the ocean, my little piece of heaven;
Surrounded by members of my extended family;
Playing together, all happily.
Categories:
enacting, lifeday, day, giving, endurance,
Form:
Rhyme
Entering a new phase of life full of standing ovation
can be disrupted by the polarized effect of growth.
Innocence is pressed by social hypocrisy
to expose a young heart to adult conspiracies.
It’s tough to be in between the balance of morality and biology;
prematurity may be a reasonable excuse
but defending that little wisdom with clever restrictions
is a vital and compensatory need.
The right hand punches away corrupt company
but the left never lets go their naughty flare.
Growing wants then begin to misplace events and reasons
as a night club is for instance turned to a place for sight-seeing.
Carefulness is lost and internal scrutiny easily carried away.
A wrong predator then wins that precious attention’s mandate;
lies come with charismatic fun to leave total believe with no option.
Breaking a three days dry fast with mushroom and vodka, one brags,
such false manliness is captured and quickly admired.
Spending a night with a man in an isolated room
with the only expectation of playing chess;
not considering he is well blooded and physically functional,
enacting the precept of “can see, may touch but can’t taste”
is a time bomb set to explode in a matter of seconds.
Bending standards in conformity to peer-pressure,
copying the trend but doing it in a different fashion.
Act may be temporarily bound but the mind is already full blown;
interest is lured for a protracted time
just for corruption to cajole and make a deal.
Attention settles it for manifestation to take over,
drug, violence and sex once poked through accessible media
are fully accepted by the wishes of germinating drives.
Boundaries are what attract check points
when they’re non-existent, naivety is promoted
and no matter the made rules, foolishness most often wins
to craft out experience,
covered with the unattractive curtains of deadly mistakes.
Categories:
enacting, character, conflict, confusion, growing
Form:
Epic