Best Enjoins Poems
Red of fire
Reddish fire in place of loins,
Fiery hell to thee enjoins,
Kundalini coiled it waits, until,
Opened doors the chakras willed,
Enjoined to feet of clay.
Orange door is very bright,
Growing larger orange sight,
Fill your mind yes until,
Strength of purpose is your will,
That’s right.
Yellow blossoms brightest day,
Cast the very blue away,
Brighter still to make you blink,
It be written, don’t let it shrink,
The spirit is in play.
Green of heart the healing mill,
Help your fellow man until,
The darkness gone, from night,
Lift spiritual from the blight,
enjoin the great God’s will.
Blue of throat the hearing feel,
Sound of others gone, revealed,
Light blue veil is unsealed,
Therein, within the night,
Hearing is our right.
Purple smoke the eyes beheld,
Image seen, ding dong the bells,
Danger comes as seen ther-in,
In the purple flashes dim,
It is your birthright.
Kundalini seeks the light,
From top of head a glowing white,
Understanding fruit of gall,
Aura glowing nine feet tall,
A spiritual delight.
We do have these swirling chakras,
these spiritual devices…
Don Johnson
Oh beautiful flowers
in my garden patch
downcast by
a debilating cross of snow,
the laments from your
petals fallen
rings in the ear of
one who still see
an appealing song
in you in an appaling season
and enjoins you:
We plough the grapes that be.
Summer is NEVER far away.
I travel in my imagination to talk to the sky about the sound from crying
Mum, the coastal area erosion my interest to take the risk to talk the
night gown glowing beneath the wind from the vile of verbose. The night
sombre to talk to me in lusty thy heart call to convey the conversation to
the contraction of my imagination pole to polemic night.
The cart of load middle of office article of etiquette acquiring the anchor
of life floating on the top of leafs to the drop of a pen that sound
inculcate Carbon Monoxide in my lungs, the bugs ramming the trim chopped to
the shape of my poetry garage, where lullaby play violin appeasing the
heart to function for the follow six years to come in the future to the
Futuristic that I have to feature all the songs sang by the birth to take
to me to my birthplace over second of ponder to pedal the hurdles to better
future star.
The shape of a room isn't my stop where building of atomic infractions dust
the dock to the documents of love, salad of emotions building in to into-to
Ruin not thy heart it sound correct to the correspondent reticent, the
Wagging of tail enjoins the brown color to the skyscraper in the heart of
the city sun. The ink of hate won't drop to the sound of pebble and the map
Of courage cool down the ridges moan of baby.
The high thinking keep on colonizing my entire colorless breathe that
wanted to shake to the voice of the night, the taste of understanding swirl
meek hard and aim of okra is too slippery the road to sound of success is
second hand to those placed theirs, the might blame the corrosive
Situation pink of flowers impact changes to the scent of cigar.
Consistently inconsistent
Responsibly irresponsible
Flies among the birds
Yet the rat is his shape...
... The hypocrite...
The truthful liar
A pious criminal
Belongs to the two ends
Mouth: Two sided
Leaking words...
... The hypocrite...
Healthy but sick
Hungry but full
He is the foolish wise
Himself he deceives
Abeit thinking the world he deceiveth
He knoweth not
Full or not
He hath his stomack...
... The hypocrite...
Black nor white
Here nor there
Hence nor thence
He is.
... The hypocrite...
He tells them
That he hates us.
Us he tells
Hateful are they to him!
Inside his belly,
Both sides he had cheated
He hath the gain
Or so he thought...
... The hypocrite...
Then he enjoins good
But he is immersed in same.
He hath disease
Yet he admit not.
Help he yet refuse
From those who knows.
To others,
He is the best...
... The hypocrite...
For him
Is a great torment
Which he knoweth not...
... The hypocrite...
Let's cure the world
Of this scourge
Lest we all
Bear the brunt of this disease
Called...
... Hypocrisy...
Some time
before the biped thought
of history, he carved out image
of himself, and in the murky dawn
of consciousness, began to look around
to see just how he fit, and how it was
that he had come to be; he wiped the drool
from off his chin and then exclaimed prophetically,
"My God! I am alone out here. How can it be?"
And thus, his magnum opus, "Genesis"
(his first, obviously) appeared
beneath his stubby fist upon the stone,
a quasi-answer from his mallet
and the thought-begat Divinity,
and all the brethren cried, "Amen."
But they were faithless fellows
and a few millenia beyond,
Big Bang appeared, extruded from
the pangs of yet another womb—
happily dubbed intellect by some,
and leaving others
with their wounded vanities
to wonder what had taken place
before old Father Time
had set the fuse afire.
It could not have been desire;
a lonely God who needed
toys and subjects, will not wash,
and leaves us at the helm
without a helmsman...poor Adam
sputters, cries, and from his fire
before the cave removes a blackened stick
to mark his nascent words upon the wall,
enjoins his deity to silence
while he writes, "In nomine Patri...."
as the spirit and the son look on,
content awhile, to wait.
~
_________________________
THE “M” WORD
Oh miss of bliss I must confess that I find myself in magic with you
The kind of magic a flute makes when it sings a note that brings you back home
To where simplicity was the sanctity of sublimation
A naturally formed and most instinctual creation
That kindred kind of magic
The kind of magic an infant summons with his first solo step,
his first word,
and his very first fascination
The kind of magic in the wings of a fledgling sparrow as they lift him unto the place whereupon his mother birthed him to be
Amid the clouds and midst the majesty of flight
The kind of magic in joy that enjoins itself with a neon fueled force on a fourth of July sparkling night
Stars and darkness wrenched from the heart of twilight
The kind of magic that is brilliantly bright,
and blatantly beautiful delight
You are all these kinds of magic and more
And miss of bliss ‘tis thee I do adore
The kind of bliss you came to bless
And for that reason I really must confess
I find myself hopelessly and wholly in magic with you
I really do!
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~
I come not to enlighten you
but in my way destroy;
embellishment of personhood
gives me such little joy.
The dark I bring on wings scarred black
shall blind the morning light;
No trace is left to levitate
humanity from blight.
Tell parasitic paranoids
who need to bleed their hate,
I am the Hydra coiled to wrap
around their garden gate.
I'll feed upon the multitude
your little bastard brood,
to satiate the darkest fate
of my eccentric mood.
This universe in multiples
(beyond redundancy)
where thoughts are bound to mind around
a new complexity.
The time has come to end the end
begun so long ago;
the human race is baseless space;
corruptions putrid flow.
And I have countless duplicates
who rival even me;
lips drip to sip your succulence,
a feast consumed with glee.
If could grasp this world within
the palm of your right hand,
you will not be released or free
to walk this worthless land.
It is a universal vice
I share with you this day:
All life will ebb in ember fires
turned cold and powder gray.
You ask of Poets in my world?
I say they all are ONE,
each moving like a metronome
until their verse is done.
You pass these perfumed days of rest
'neath flowers round your gate;
but wretched stink of old decay
enjoins Mephisto's hate.
I write my rhyme in verse to curse
and tease with soulless ease.
Perhaps I write to steal your fright -
we Hydras love to please.
Now count the words for I shall not
and you will find them true -
I RODE THE ROAD OBLIVION
IN RHYTHM RIDE TO YOU!!
1. Kelly Lune:
silk rose under dome
opaque glass
thwarted love preserved
2. Jack Collom Lune:
the faded corsage
under a dusty glass dome—
missed spring ball
NOT FOR CONTEST
POET'S NOTES
The lune (aka American haiku) created by New York-based poet Robert Kelly (1935–) in the 1960s consists of 5-3-5 syllables (the 13 syllables correspond to the 13 lunar months), and the shape resembles a crescent moon hence it is never centred on the page. Later, poet Jack Collom (1931–2017) came up with the word-count-variant, The Lune, that is more popular today, namely, 3-5-3 words per line representing a gibbous moon. No cutting word required (it may employ enjambment); and any subject matter (reference to nature is not a prerequisite). Punctuation, capitalisation, and rhyme is the prerogative of the poet.
The following poetic forms are akin in design to the Lune: Empty Moon, by Alan Mudd (a 9 word poem—3 words per line); Leaf, by Joseph Braun & Marielle Grenade-Willis (The Braun leaf is an eleven syllable couplet: 6-5. The Grenade-Willis leaf is an eleven syllable tercet: 3-5-3); elevenie or elfchen, German meaning little eleven, (1-2-3-4-5 syllables per line with specific structure requirements); and triplet.
The triplet is a three word poem—usually no capital letters or punctuation is used. As a linguistic geometry the triplet may be seen as a triangle in two ways: 1. each word is a leg, or 2. each word is an angle. One of the principle insights one gains when producing triplets is a functional knowledge of how (and under which circumstances) words form especially reliable structural bonds; it often enjoins adjectives to a special noun. A famous triplet by Aldous Huxley:
Brave New World
Why, it hasten
As the clouds open
Yes, I’m afraid, I got no appointment
I need to acquaint
My problems are hard to understand
But just the same I’m emphatic and dream
Somehow, many things happen
There are lightning and thunders
They resisted that I understand
Here, it came a Helping Hand
‘though abandoned and denied
Yet, I believe there’s heaven
Maybe tomorrow it redeems
And finally it enjoins to a meeting again.
Dalila Agtani
6/25/12
Entered in a contest sponsored by
P.D.
Contest Name Collaborating In the Clouds
A journey together,
Storms to weather;
Companions unlikely joined
Despite their task
on this path which many ask,
“Why the battle?”
“Why the pain?”
“Does not God care?”
Martyr whispers gently,
“Surrender to Love’s grander plan.”
Warrior shouts the battle cry,
“Persevere, victory’s at hand!”
Martyr teaches mercy, grace and love
to tame the tyrant within.
Warrior teaches perseverance, courage and strength;
the tyrant to overcome.
Companions unlikely joined
For this journey long
Companions to aide
Along this path long laid.
Healing the prize
Despite surprise.
Lessons to be learned;
Trust to be earned,
to heed the other’s voice
and make the wiser choice.
This battle within needs each
For which to teach;
As guides along the way.
Martyr entreats Warrior,
“Surrender to Love’s call,
For grace and mercy extended to all.”
Warrior enjoins Martyr,
“Be strong, be courageous,
Honesty within
To conquer every sin!”
Warrior needs Martyr
to tame the tyrant within.
Martyr needs Warrior
To defeat the tyrant;
For victory to win!
The journey for this tyrant within,
Beckons Love’s call;
Grace and mercy to all.
Healing within and without;
Love’s nature calls out;
Surrender control;
Be courageous! Be strong
to right each wrong;
Start within.
(Dedication: To all readers and friends and
the PoetrySoup community who find delight
especially in my Alliteration poems. Thank
You for your support.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rich reason rhymes
Enter each etch
Affluence aligns
Play plunders patch
Real roaming raves
Endow embrace
Applause amaze
Prime precious pace
Reach respects raid
Echo each end
Apply apt aide
Primal poise pens
Rhymes reel relent
Embark embloc
Answer attends
Poise pens prologue
Ride rivers real
Expect endow
Assign assail
Practice prompts plough
Retrace rich rays
Endings express
Appease allay
Poignant progress
Roaming real roads
Effort explodes
Applause attains
Pleasure pines plain
Riddles reap rust
Enlight each ease
Affect apt ask
Prime profound peace
Rich rays reveal
Each end enjoins
Appease appeal
Peace provides point
Leon Enriquez
22 May 2014
Lijiang, China
Yunnan Province
Joyful O joy excelling
Feeling filling lips exalting praise
May the heartens live in malaise
Gnash under the ravishing heat like a praise
To him to whom they live to relive
In destiny thwarted, forgotten to have ever lived
All ye praise to God to whom they disbelieve
His eyes see through the seething darting eyes of Lucy
The morning light, what a sly
His vain beauty lies a fly praise
That housed his beautiful ambiance holding His praise
To whom he disbelieved
What a Shylock
How 'tis to see the fanning seething heat
Ice cold laugh Lucy enjoins his own
He knows he only needs more of them
As a company in his quest for destruction
The cat disrupts her thinkable moment, by
attention thou need, she took the torso
and kept it hold from the breast by
used all ways, and kept the stand for
apart the opening window in somnolent
in love instant glaceing the helplessness
terrain in nightfall moonily lasts sky,
after, stands for in deeds’ surge panache
up fictions points then’ sinew really not
her moved away from the window
thus, put-down above rugs in blue
as faithful roommate, busing in breach
And ratified self, at troughs enjoins kitchen
baking feed. Now blank having, his mind
And freedom from images in love stages —
Anew think channels while the nowadays.
Scattered Ash
by Odin Roark
The urn is tipped
Scattered ash enjoins
Jetstream
Jetsam
Flotsam
Atop the winds and currents
Nature's gathering
Knowing not yet
The next evolution of life's decay
Possibility awakens
This consciousness beyond our own
This departure from one actuality
Into the reformation of another
Molecular iteration begun decades earlier
Now roaming carefree among other airborne particles
Innocent stowaways enfolded in winged flights
Or ocean saturated driftings
Bobbing patiently
Awaiting new beginnings
As the journey continues
Feathers
Seaweed
Plastic cups and bottles
Provide passage
Shoreward
Skyward
Forward
A measureless journey this
Where matter exists forever
Where ash continues as yesterday's index
Referring to tomorrow's pages
Scattered ashes
Once of flesh and blood
Now returning to the vortex of cosmic chance
Where fresh finger-paints of infancy
Become infinity's next masterpiece
To mourn or not to mourn
Omniscience winks
Kate Shemirani
You tossed your cape
Walked heart burning
A stand to make
You became by default
Freedoms M C
And on the attack'
Calling out medical; hypo-cracy
Genocide in stilted tone; acclaimed
At davos' you helped make known'
Your fight and fervor
For God and right
Shone in Britians covid nights'
Reiner Füllmich Dr Coleman
Just some allies against
The grotesqe and gruesome
I applaud today, your sense of right
All reality enjoins' I regard the plight
I pit my worth; i make the stand'
I support humanity innately grand
(You do no harm) in speech and act
What the n h s deride you so well enact'
Your days of study; your years of care
Has gained respect, just everywhere'
The title of Doctor I ascribe you here
The only one thats fitting
By a whole light year.'
God bless you Dr Shemirani