Best Enunciated Poems
Golden sun enlightens contours of violet arc
Painting mauve motifs on canvas of cosmic art
When constellation of dewdrops sparkle on grass
And thoughts of your allure enchant my heart,
As in pristine meadows of sensuous past I walk
Holding hands of dawn to reminisce love that was
When you come along, cheering one more dance--
Oh, how I regret, not kissing that ebullient morn,
Strolling in memoirs of your favorite garden
Where gardenias court scent of rose blossoms,
Crafting ode of love that's silent on fervor--
Alas, you've never heard rhythm of my poem,
Shrouded in metaphors that proffer not a clue
But it's always been true: there's no one but you
For you see it enunciated in language of runes
Where dreams you dream are passing through.
Wish you knew I worship the ground you walk on
And love everything about you just the way you are
And ache for your moon, wish for your stars,
For no one but you makes me feel--I have it all.
August 26, 2019
Placed 2nd: If only you knew poetry contest by Silent One
HM: Strand special 7 by Brian Strand
A sudden rain
cloaked the rail path
Lightning strikes were furious
Thunder storms drum big
Windows drenched in rain
Unable to see the scenes
Uncertain about the future
As we were trapped inside
Dreading the journey,
Holding my dad's fingers
I closed my eyes;
Leaning on his arms
Lamenting the harms
Frightened me, cried
To wipe out my tears,
he made me hear
his childhood memories
and funny stories
To obliterate my fear,
he enunciated his, failed cracks
and success tracks
"Beleive in the driver
and relish the journey"
He boldly advised
By sharing his life's journey
He made that messy journey
The memorable one
The stories I heard on that ride
could be correlated with all the current
and future circumstances
The lesson I assimilated
Is my guiding light
Even after the halt of the train
The words he uttered
resonated deeply inside
and still resonating
even after his demise
and will keep on resonating
throughout my life
Happy Father's day
I couldn’t understand the language she spoke,
at least not all of it,
but the emotion pouring past her lips,
the tears in her eyes, her clenched and shaking fists
enunciated more clearly,
than any piece of English Poetry I had ever read,
and grabbed me, held me still.
…In that moment, her soul was in my arms.
In that finite, tender breath of our lives,
she was my mother, my best friend…
but I could not console her.
I didn’t have the words;
and my heart sank into the
concrete between us,
wet with the pain of God’s rain
and her tears.
…Were my tears
So, I simply opened my palms
toward her crouched form and
spoke the only words I could
fathom, that would be accepted
by a stranger on a dangerous street.
"I am sorry, It will be okay. God will bless you."
I knew she did not understand…
"Lo siento"
“que va a estar bien”
“Dios te bendecira’ “
the words were as messy as the overturned
duffle bag at her feet…and fumbled, slowly
from my lips, as my knees hit the street.
Two strangers, cried in the rain,
knowing nothing of each other’s suffering,
and yet we shared the weight,
together, for those few moments;
the barrier of language was broken.
Love spoke for us.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
…Love transcends any language
Fresh...novel - ingenuous in this nifty world of poetry
The congregation of well-versed and eloquent poets
Reflexion occupied and inhabited within your bosom
Comments - indited and penned by your hand,
Enunciated and explicated by your psyche
Behind of what is envisioned and construed
Philia augmented and fruited
Yielding the sweets in acquaintanceship
Not just co-writers
Not just gurus and advisers who meliorates and nurtures me
Competent as it can be
But buddies and intimates who're TIED UP
Great sophisticated poet - Nette
Words of heart so new -Nikko
Unbars the door of wisdom - Dr. Ram
Now,we've educed this bind - never loose...
* Jun-jun Villanueva
*Nette Onclaud
*Nikko Palmario
*Dr. Ram Mehta
****TABLE FOR FOUR contest
Faces of death stare against my raptured skin.
Silently, they watch me in frigid judgment.
I used to run from them in unholy matrimony,
Peeling the sins from my teardrops
Wishing they would
Just go away.
The brown-skinned disease normalized her penetrating,
Gaslit disgust against the smiles,
Against the faith
“YOU HAD IT COMING!”, she resounded in front of my Son…rise.
“All your fault”, the faces of death impolitely declared.
I begged for her abuse to end.
I pleaded for those faces to cease their stares against my coalescing wounds.
I prayed that the stars would let our friendship count to infinity.
But the brown-skinned disease could only count to 5150.
Terms & conditions no longer applied.
How would I ever escape?
How would I ever taste tears of joy again?
How would I supplant the bruises now invested in each heartbeat?
When would I stop apologizing for the harm she caused...?
I stared back at the faces of death.
“Not today!” “Not tomorrow!”
In this decrepit whirlwind of deceit
They smiled back at me, turning the other cheek.
“Stronger than yesterday”, they whispered.
I awoke from my descent into paralysis,
Listening to the gentle clacking of laptops,
The wistful choruses enunciated from the turntable…
…”No easy way out. I won’t back down. I’ll stand my ground.”
For my walls built
By the faces of death
Are meant to climb,
Not to confine
©Tacito
The names of success spoken slowly, enunciated with near perfection.
Begetters delighted while warriors of knowledge even prouder.
Frame the object with that pride, etched in bold colors of quested victory.
Intended to render focus where future awaits with her breath of betterment.
Render the mortar board square, keeping the gown smooth as the silk it resembles.
Shutterbugs will capture that smile of a thousand future memories.
A feastful celebration shared in public display, consuming all thoughts of ineptness.
Success is now official along with all cheers for you - the graduate.
......................................................
Written: 5/18/2016
Type: Prose Poetry
Contest: Any Poem You Ever Penned
Contest Sponsor: Broken Wings
Placement: 10th Place
Failing Light
Come you not by faltering keyboard
Or the disastrous fandango’s of poetic minds
The niches and grand beaches of eloquent ink
Lost to us now
Mourned are such names
Who by inspiration alone delighted
Cut from swathes by idiotic stalks
Have ground their words to paltry dust
But beginnings must
And so in the crests and wallows of verbiage; retire and retreat
The willing light once was
But now written for better pages
We dream on to reach such articulate and enunciated heights
But fail
Fail; yes; in ramblings misspellings of art
With crude black marks of censorship reiterate such opinions
And become a convenient diary
Plagiarised without a dictionary
Poetry ?
Traduced! Forgive but don’t forget is the adage
How can one heal whilst storing the ugly image?
It’s the lie entailed by cowardice…
So a mind, replete with forgiven but unforgotten
Turns irrational and presumes in verbiage rotten!
Imminently, bruises need a poultice…
Mired in all the untoward-pardoned-unforgettable
Eclipsed visages twist-taunt into the judge-mental
as he hammers over a ripped bodice…
Rage absorbed takes on a caliber hard to disown
Of a volcanic-type verisimilitude; shield unknown
under the buried-remembered, malice…
Nursed so long in remembrance, turns corrupt
Drinks in all the stored negatives to then erupt
in wanton caprice…
Surely, forgetting is requisite to forgiving,
for how is one to enjoy the present living?
Odious history’s peace…
Riding the past to fill moments in beauty
Memory retention is the declared reality
Enunciated with declining hubris…
(5/27/21)
Tommorrow's Brighter Day
is what we wish for, isn't it?
It always offers just a bit more time
to set the scene before the curtain rises,
before the houselights dim,
the orchestra to take a break,
before some truth is caught in frolic,
covers its face, and vanishes in shame.
That legendary day, alas, does not draw closer.
There it is, cemented in nostalgia,
reachable by sacrifice, and distant
by the falsity of pride
that always thunders at us
with deceptive voices, carefully enunciated
to an educated ear.
Only freeloaders must beware.
Only truth which must endure
will manage to survive,
and even that must struggle mightily
against the vanity that festers
in our coveted wounds.
Yes, my love, tomorrow!
Sign the cross. Ressurect the rosary.
All creatures of our God and King
will bow once more to every majesty
we have created--every tale
that draws the heartstrings tighter.
Or simply let it be.
Everyone can play; no act of modesty negates.
Reach. My own is with me still,
though I flash back six decades--
it was time to say goodbye,
that which remained, unverbalized.
His gaze and mine, an intercept
that would never be resolved.
~
The Lord spoke to me in dominion.
As a protectorate, he gave vision.
He said through intoned power that the renunciation of a religious faith
must be enunciated.
As a woman of God, I pledge allegiance to his way.
I am monotheistic in faithfulness.
My covenant will subsist and endure via solidarity.
Social Theology is a New School of Thought.
It’s a socio-political and socio-religious walk.
No faith is disallowed.
Just bring yourself and your Bible.
Prayer and worship is done philosophically.
Canons are passing through divinity.
Apostasy is a commitment to a higher order
one that the Lord has defined for theological refinement.
No writhed is involve if you are a person of rightful mindedness and
you saunter with the omnipotent.
Let us amble forth.
A stroll with the omnipotent is not to be mooched.
We are blatant in seeking the truth.
Benevolence to those in their faith, we are searching
for a greater determination.
Through supplication and reverence, we see eternity.
Apostasy is communicative skills of high literacy for a higher order of articulation
via invocation and veneration.
Will the Church say Amen!?!
__________________________________|
Penned on June 03, 2014!
Enshrined on tapestry crimson, ruby
Purple love scintillates orchid dreams
Flaunting sensuality of magical appeal
Waltzing sweet melodies of romance;
Oh, fondly I recall our first kiss now--
It was the promise of amethyst dawn!
Swaying in colors of pink, red tulips
Love in the prairies of yellow daffodils
Setting its sights upon indigo iris
Dazzles verdant fields on butterfly wings;
Oh, playfully I recall the allure of tease--
It was the promise of vibrant spring!
Embrace of love on the opulent horizon
Watching orange glow dip in the ocean
Glittering emotions as gilded waves beckon
Spurs in twilight arousal of passions;
Oh, gaily I recall the crush of nightfall--
It was the promise of quixotic sundown!
Love yearning for blazing red meadows
Whirling desires fiery amber, brown
Gazing at fervor of mulberry evening
Seduces your aura, caressing feelings;
Oh, happily I recall the dalliance of fall--
It was the promise of autumnal awe!
But the promise I treasure adoringly now
Was enunciated in the epigram of stars
By the prophecy of moon scripted above;
Oh, intimately I recall bliss of Shangri-la--
It was the promise of two loving hearts!
June 2, 2020
Placed 1st: The promise poetry contest by Silent One
Placed 3rd: Brian's Select 9 Contest
I'm living in a haze,
These dark days.
Some how always
Getting the best of me
Why won't they leave me be.
Just set me free.
My mom freaks.
My voice too weak
My dad sees
He just leaves.
But these dark days.
Even with the haze.
Keeps me safe.
Embracing me
I'm free.
The pain
With no gain.
The tears
When no one hears.
The haze
From my dark days
Lifts me up
And sets me down.
Only to be a clown.
To turn my frown
Upside down
Even though
I'm very low.
And my days
With my haze
Makes me sad.
Makes me mad
It also make me glad.
I know the haze
Acts as a maze
Taking me to places.
Setting up bases.
For me to visit
I know I'm gonna miss it.
When its gone.
The next morning
I got a warning
My beautiful haze
Stating a phrase.
"Medicine will make you better."
It enunciated each letter.
I cry
As it waves good bye
A finger down my throat
And a nurse who gloats
A tiny pill.
Just to kill
Put an end
To my only friend
My dark days,
Have never felt so dark
the eloquence of -
the song of the syllable
the tone, like solemn Gregorian chant,
tympanically resonant to hear
beautiful as deep-red Tiffany glass
stoned echo of Morpheus
a Morpheme of the god of dreams
the language is a beautiful thing
to hear - enunciated, emancipated,
softly muscular moves,
especially whispered into ear
© Goode Guy 2013-02-04
http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/lingual
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morpheus_(mythology)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morpheme
Silent and anonymous nights
Are turning loquacious once again....
That unavowed situation of heart
Enunciated through eyes....
The broken heart was healing
Learning to keep body and soul together....
It seems like blossoms were blooming again
The heart was relieved from pain....
The eyes flooded with rain
Are being charming again....
The circumstances have changed
Nothing is seemed to be the same....
Yes , her heart was mending
And his love for her is building it up....
Her soul engulfed with pain
Is nurturing once again....
She started framing her dreams again
This time with the person ,
Who accepted her with all her scars
And is trying to pull her out
From her past....!!
Yes..
She's moving on....
She's learning to live again....
Most importantly....
She's learning to love again....!!
Even with your electric guitar and your drums,
It cannot be compared to our skin made drums.
You still cherish the sound of our music and it value
Despite how hard you tried to make we live life as designed by you.
We are Africans and our history is not all about slavery,
Yeah! It a dark side that when enunciated of will always bring misery,
As we spend centuries building your world in the absolute absence of choice,
Breaking our self-esteem, humiliating our ego, all to silence our voice.
Yet we grew up stronger than you think,
Providing for your factories with just a eye blink,
Despite with all the division you preach,
We chose to play by... as we stretch our hands friendly for you to reach.
Yet you think you are shrewder than us,
And you try to corrupt our leaders whom we trust.
Then paint them black by your media
Those who at the start realize that you are not our friend nonetheless the healer.
You take our rich heritage to beautify you museums,
You still, loot and scattered or kingdoms
Over four centuries you milk our Caws, and harvest our ivory,
You take our diamonds, steal our golds, and all the things you envy.
We are Africans, one made of many,
Rich in diversity, and a culture that you envy,
Skin color that shine, glitter and glow
Even with suppression, oppression yet slowly we grow.