Best Enough Poems
There Will Never Be Enough Time
There will never be enough time to hear unique
music of nature's songs in its birds, its insects,
in songs of the wind, or the sounds of the sea.
Or how earth breathes and is alive through its
caves and caverns, through its crystal rocks in
bell tones that ring soothing sounds for the soul.
There will never be enough time to visit all the
wondrous places this glorious earth has to offer.
Nor enough time to read all the talented poetry
our new technology provides us with online and
in favorite poetry books of masters long dead.
Poems that so inspire and leave hearts on fire.
There will never be enough time to view all the
sights in glorious colors of sunrises and sunsets,
of twilight's shadows and intricate silhouettes.
Nor the light on the mountains in verdant display
as mist weaves its magic o'er splendorous pines.
Sights that inspire thrill and enthrall so profoundly
with the beauty of it all, as each day's a divine gift.
There will never be enough time to breathe in life's
blissful perfume in scents of many flowers in bloom,
in lilac's, gardenia's and the magnolia's sweet scents,
or in petrichor's heavenly aroma from rain's dalliance.
In scents from the seaside or the mountain's fresh air,
in Mother Nature's great gifts of her fragrance so fair.
There will never be enough time to behold your love
in the grace of God's minion in spiritual connection.
That feeling of oneness, that special spark from all life
as it spreads contentment and warmth over body's
decay in knowledge we will all realize birth once again;
that all feelings matter in our Karmically created laws.
Yet, there IS enough time to give thanks and rejoice for
every life is precious no matter of life's circumstances.
3-3-19
*Dedicated To Robert Lindley whose poetry inspired this poem.
Last January, winter lost it's chill
By May the summer's sun had turned me brown
I watch the leaves late August, change at will
Time's speeding up or am I slowing down?
It brings to mind, a boy, which I once knew
While young, he put a dream up on a shelf
It sat there many years. Oh, how time flew.
While he got sidetracked searching for himself
And then one day while sitting in a swing
His body tired, each passing year a mile
With autumn closing in, he thought of spring
And how time turned his dream into a smile
How quickly through the glass our trickling sand
One day a boy, the next, a tired old man.
by Daniel Turner
to be your wind, the wind beneath your wings,
would that be more than enough ?
. . to feel you,
to know you
oh- to be the sun, when day has begun
your light,
the moon at midnight
would you feel me,
know all that is me ?
would that be more than enough,
to know love,
to feel love,
to feel you -
do you feel me ?
just to be the song, your song
- - words that create this melody within me,
would that be more than enough,
to feel you,
to know love ?
________________
just a scribble
~ some lingering thoughts ~
Friday May 29, 2020- Poem of the Day
When a heaven cracks and stars go to sleep
Morning so incredibly quiet -
A peaceful morning - the sun's rays meet my gaze
I listen to the peace - to its eternal rest - and I think
that this moment must forever be in my heart
My eyes filled with clear and clean blue sky
So beautiful quiet morning - a fjord bright as a mirror
. . . I'm missing my words
Happiness rustling through the blood
and awakens my senses
I float among the clouds and angels
picks diamonds like they were candy
The sun glows in all its glory
The words are no longer in my power
24.04.2014
A-L Andresen :)
I laugh out loud
every time I hear a politician say,
that the best way to enrich a black person's life,
is to give them a job
Give them some work to do
Labor is the way out of poverty ---
are you kidding me!
They got the nerve,
telling a black person in America
they need to work
Put the shoulder to the grinding wheel,
get to know the sweaty brow feel
Getting employed will solve most of
black people's problems, politicians say
Hard work will bring an honest dollar our way
But I got a problem
with that four-letter word: work
I am bold enough to speak for my people
on this urgent matter
Telling us we need to work some more,
in order for things to get better for us
No! We worked long enough
Four hundred years is a long enough time, don't you think
We been working ever since
we got off those slave ships that didn't sink
We worked hard
at keeping our eyes and voices low
We worked hard
at pretending that we're slow
We worked even harder
at grinning and gritting our teeth
But we worked the hardest
at not getting lynched on a tree
Listen to me:
This is the children of slaves reality,
the living in America experience
of feeling the societal lash daily
Of being looked down on,
of being spurned and frowned upon
Politicians say they helped us all they could,
that entitlements didn't do no good
And only work can get us to where we need to be ...
sounds a lot like old-time slavery to me
No! We worked long enough
Four hundred years is a long enough time, I would think
We been working ever since
we got off those slave ships that didn't sink
We worked hard
at not getting pecked to death by Jim Crow
We worked hard
at trying to survive under the poverty line below
We worked even harder
at not telling the oppressor everything we know
But we worked the hardest
at letting our unchained KKKourage show
Yes! We worked long enough ...
now it's time for us to rest
Will you pay us back for that?
I started sucking my thumb until it looked like a plumb
Things didn't feel any better so I poured a glass of rum
Some will imagine I'm happy when they hear the tunes I hum
whisky me Dixie I am the crazy unbalanced one
Yes I hum like a drum and I pretend to be dumb
I prefer the shady ladies who stay out of the sun
You might want to hang out after all I can be fun
Others will try and warn you, you'd be better off to run
You think I'm simple dear Simon, my thoughts not so deep
I know it's easy to judge me by the company I keep
I'm hanging on by three threads, one step away from endless sleep
I can't get up high enough, the incline of my mind is too steep
I'm weathered and worn kinda broken and busted
Others thought they could help get my aptitude adjusted
Yet some things can't be fixed too many layers have rusted
Kind people have attempted to get me polished and dusted
Forget all that attention I just simply cussed it
I wander asphalt streets bopping to my lost boy beat
see the crooked dexterity of my wobbly bruised feet
Nothing satiates me what I hunger for I can't eat
the ghosts in my mind have occupied my seat
My demons are hidden beneath a white worn sheet!
Don't try and peek under, you won't like who you meet!
Oh for pity's sake put some clothes on,
the bracing air will steal your breath..
and I need you to stand and stay strong.
Cold comfort thrills from your chill touch
help me recall why I adore you so...
A chin of the ages rests on my shoulder in sweet affection,
two arms encircle my world in every direction.
Redtail hawk riding a thermal looks down..
what caught its gaze I wonder..
Will the day lend a hand through a pestering cloud,
or roll its eyes in thunder?
Such a fine firebrand you've stoked,
as I shave my face and call your bluff.,
Wishing the once would last forever..
though once was more than enough.
Goth mood’s not right, not bright enough.
Fountain of sea, rapt in darkness.
Crepuscular ink blocks sunlight.
The cursive waves doth strain the wrist.
Fa-la-la rhymes, leaping and lowing.
Counting the black sheep - times not slowing.
Fountain of sea, deep in darkness.
Coarse keys, ivory black, musing.
The cursive waves doth strain the wrist.
Resist of playful sounds - thirsting.
Fa-la-la rhymes, leaping and lowing.
Counting the black sheep - times not slowing.
Coarse keys, ivory black, musing,
and refusing to budge - lines spurn.
Resist of playful sounds - thirsting.
The burn hisses and squeals; smudges.
Fa-la-la rhymes, leaping and lowing.
Counting the black sheep - times not slowing.
And refusing to budge, lines spurn.
Crepuscular ink blocks sunlight.
The burn hisses and squeals; smudges.
Goth mood’s not right, not bright enough.
Oh how I love thee with your white and dark meat
Thou art the very best
But because of you, I can’t see my feet
My navel is two feet from my chest
To diet and lose so I don’t wobble no more
I would be very willing
It would be impossible now, because somehow
I finished four bowls of filling
My wife pointed at me and said look at him
He sits at the table, like a dog he begs
I stare at you and your magnificent breast
Can hardly wait to get my hands on your legs
Enough already, I’m on my knees
Give me some stuffing and some black eyed peas
Sweet potatoes, corn and a salad I’ll toss
And bury your butt with cranberry sauce
Oh turkey, my turkey, you’re the one who rocks
Now I’ve gotten so fat, I can’t put on my socks
My love for you was fleeting
And we are finished I fear
But I’ll fall in love with another turkey
Same time next year.
If Gratitude were enough,
I’d fill the oceans with mine for having you
If laughter were enough,
I’d make you laugh till your last breath,
Just so I can hear that beautiful sound for eternity
If dancing was enough,
I’d waltz and foxtrot with you till your feet hurt
If tenderness was enough,
I’d then spend the rest of the day massaging those feet
Just so I can take the aching away
If life were enough,
I’d trade mine for yours in a heartbeat
Just so you can live to fulfil all your heart’s desires,
As all I want for you is your never-ending joy,
Your gentleness, coyness, kindness
And if love were enough,
I’d love you in and out of time,
As I love you from this day onwards,
I will love you beyond my final breath
I LOVE YOU…
And why? We often ask and wonder- why
does this small Earth revolve in time and space-
a microscopic speck- diminished by
the boundless vastness of the universe,
unending and unknown? Why are we here?
We go from birth to death upon a sphere
we customized to fit our needs; caught up
in galaxies of mini-worlds we made-
of bustling cities, growing industries,
complexities of homes and families,
of governments, religions, schools, and those-
of our own selves. We ask- what lies beyond
the realm of joys and comforts, or the woes
these bring; beyond our cloudy atmospheres
of love and peace, of war, disease, and crime?
And what, we ask, what mammoth plan could this-
this tiny particle of cosmic dust
encrusted with the scale of human strife
be part of? Matter not the what or why-
the unsolved heavens or eternal scheme!
Enough- enough, for now, to deal with life
and death- and all those worlds that lie between-
in this, our tiny universe named Earth-
a strange, complex dimension all its own.
October 6, 2014
~2nd Place~
Contest: Out Of The Box
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
Judged:01/09/2017
~2nd Place~
Contest: Structured Forms - Iambic Verse
Sponsor: Giorgio A. V.
Judged: November 6, 2014
Erector sets and wooden blocks
Dominoes and house of cards
Built way up to be knocked down
Scattered all across the ground
Model cars and airplane kits
Making sure each piece will fit
Snapped together without glue
Just to fall apart on you
Puzzles without all the pieces
Will not work and it decreases
The fun and joy of finishing
A picture without it's full scene
All these things can fall apart
Or not be finished from the start
Like a love without the trust
Which is a necessary must
So it doesn't break and tremble
And you have to reassemble
Two hearts with a solid glue
So it doesn't fall on you
From a height that is too high
To complete---you let it die
From a lack of love and care
Broken too much for repair
Oh, she was my best friend,
who was she in the end?
So much time filled with strife...
she chose to take her life.
All her days filled with woe,
the shame she couldn’t let go.
All her ways seemed so wrong,
the blame she felt was strong.
I saw her last bleak smile,
as a child, broke and vile.
She used to laugh with charm,
why did she choose self harm?
Free of love in her youth,
no one could see the truth.
Too much wine for one girl,
too much grief in her world.
A sad, lone and blue soul,
when will death make her whole?
My loss cuts like a knife…
she chose to take her life.
120 words total in this poem
120 syllables total in this poem
howmanysyllables.com
120 Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
February 6, 2018
Upon my life your winter still drizzles
Evoking the morns that arose in despair
And nights that steered dreams into sorrow,
As I sit all alone in valleys of destitute
Where memories haunt pitfalls of yore.
Tender and sweet, you were my ruby rose--
In garden of love, essence of fragrance,
Enchanting petals in butterfly dreams.
But seasons soon ravaged resplendent meadows--
Drought of emotions dried up the crops,
And red-robins left, abandoning empty nests,
When you relinquished the vermilion dawns
And chased sunsets in twilight of sundown
Forfeiting the sunrise that illuminated past--
You heard me there, but said nothing at all.
As arrival of fall marked the summer's end
A budding rose curled-up in travails of desires.
And dreams that cherished revelry of night
Confronted the day that endlessly rained,
When you roamed deserts tailing a mirage
Leaving behind lotus-pond, full of white swans,
Claiming of dissonance in nightingale's song.
Yet, I keep hanging on to visions of spring
Wishing for rivers to rush down from mountains
And blossoms that faded to host a new growth.
But in memoirs of yesteryear there is no tomorrow
For sometimes my dear, love just isn't enough.
September 10, 2019
Poem of the day on September 12, 2019
Placed 1st: Sometimes love is not enough poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Placed 3rd: Your best free verse of 2019 by John Hamilton
Placed 1st: Strand select contest O by Brian Strand
He loved his grandpa with all his heart
All the hugs in the world
Could not heal him
How we dreaded the time when
Memories would be all that’s left
Submitted on September 8, 2019 for contest SOMETIMES LOVE IS NOT ENOUGH sponsored by SILENT ONE - RANKED 3RD