Best Eschewed Poems


Premium Member Brake

Willows wheeze while traders weep
A head for softer shoulders grasped
Spread another bid too deep
On margin calling crumpled dreams collapsed

Umbrellas saved the follicles
While frozen feet alarmed by sudden cold
Observe the blaze advanced to diabolical
All paper perished, all future visions sold

Jackals trace the wall of worry
Dining on the furtive few
Until at last the feast of falling flurry
All pensioners resolve eschewed

Premium Member Books Unread

Why is the middle where I put a book down?
My anticipation dies at that half-read interlude.
I lack the discipline that keeps me inbound.
A famous author's endings should be praised, and not eschewed.

Premium Member Your Best Poet Friends

                               Your Best Poet Friends
                                       9/15/2023


            Poet Friends read you first, no matter what!
            They crave your incisive, critique first.
            Chasing new poets, you, leave them as dust?
            Like flowers, they wait for a word, they thirst!


            They are not in search of quippy fast laughs
            Value them first, before any POTD!
            Not out searching for obvious poetry gaffes, 
            Value them, not your grand popularity.


            Friends are people, not just base numbers.
            Thus, comments written with words..so few.
            We bypass our friends, we need our slumber.?
            Worse, use of primary words, heartily,eschewed!


             Don’t allow the sun to set on your face.
             While your friend has very few comments?
             You, chase just numbers, what a disgrace!
             You leave a poet friend in a deep, sad, sonnet 



         
              “Those who do read and soup-mail you.
               Beautiful souls, oh, so very close to you”


Premium Member True, Moses Wrote of Righteousness

True, Moses wrote of righteousness, one based upon the law.
But Paul proffered an alternate, eschewed the tragic flaw.
Salvation based on works alone: a concept misapplied.
For all, not most, have fallen short; to live thus was to die.

The argument that he put forth: the wage of sin is death.
The proof that all have fallen short: each takes a final breath.
The second Adam changed it all, met on Damascus Road,
His work, reduced to rubbish, trash, and kicks against the goads.

A righteousness that's based on faith asks not who will ascend;
See, Christ has come down to the world, and faith thus comprehends.
And neither does a right faith seek descent to the abyss,
For Christ has risen from the dead, a point some seem to miss.

A right faith knows the word is near, there in your mouth and heart,
Components of a saving grace, the twain shall never part.
For if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is the LORD,
Your heart believes God raised him up, salvation, faith's accord.

For heart's belief is justified, and mouth's confession saved,
And all those who believe in Him are thus no more enslaved.
For there is no distinction now between the Jew or Greek,
For the same Lord is Lord of all, shows grace to all who seek.

But how then will they call on Him in whom they've not believed?
And how shall they believe in Him, when ears have not received?
And how are they supposed to hear, unless someone will preach?
And how are they to preach the word unless they're sent to each?

How beautiful, the feet of those delivering good news!
Not all obey what they have heard, Isaiah thus once mused.
"Lord, who believed what he has heard from us?" the prophet said.
But faith comes through the word of Christ, its hearing raises dead.

Now faith by works indeed is true, a point I must not shirk,
But only faith that's placed in Him, rests in His finished work.

(from Romans 10)
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.

Unbridled Change

These days of changing values can be hard:
What once was just, today's considered wrong.
Some things encouraged now at one time jarred,
Abandoned now are values once held long. 

Unquestioned rules and customs are eschewed,
And standards jettisoned yet not replaced.
What once was fixed has now become unglued,
While words which all revered are now erased.

But while injustices should be redressed,
Iconoclasm can exceed all sense—
When free expression finds itself suppressed,
Then tolerance becomes a sad pretense.

For though things change, some things stay valid still: 
Light is not dark, nor yet is good now ill.


This sonnet has received an Honorable Mention in the Society of Classical Poets 8th Annual Poetry Competition.

Message To The Blackman

If slavery was a choice, as some have agreed, then what are we?
If watching your father and mother endure rape or murder was a choice,
Then why do we sit on idle hands, while Trump eradicates our posterity’s opportunities,
As if they were written in sand?
If not being able to read was a choice,
Then why do you go to the PlayStation in a rush
while your library card collects dust?
Even a Ward educates themselves,
Even the eunuch Greyjoy developed the courage to stand against evil.

In the midst of upheaval, one mustn’t look through a straw while planning the future.
The sagacious knows fighting must be eschewed when only death is in thy terms.
Allah heard their suffering, but sometimes the way out is through.
They didn’t endure out of docility or obsequiousness,
But out of discernment and sagacity.
The desolate doesn’t become prosperous by exclaiming tumultuous absurdities,
But by embodying opulent minds.

Go back to the mother, which is the way, and endure the storm,
While being metamorphic in form.
You see, my Kings and Queens,
The only choice they made was to give their posterity a fighting chance,
To gather strength while the usurpers wane and start to underestimate.
We must pick up the quill and write our own fates,
No more brooding or carping about what Donny Thrump is doing.
One man’s decisions determine another man’s life,
As much as a drought challenges the land.
Yet, life, like the Way, will always find a path to flourish,
Forevermore permeating even the harshest conditions.

We must stop talking about what great leaders and men should be,
And become Great Men and Assiduous Leaders.
We were the first great civilization and shall act as such.
Lead with grace,
Strike with prudence,
Read great books that enrich the mind,
Treat each other with unyielding reverence,
Because we each carry a piece of the divine.
I am that I am, and I am my brother's keeper.


Window

The father has left the family, 
To chart new territories somewhere 
So the mother looks to God for strength 
To bring up her little girl 
Who will only get the best she vows 
While watching the child play from the window 

She ponders how life is like a window
Through which to frame the beauty of family
Even in the face of broken vows
The family can exist somewhere
Solidly developing a little girl
Who will never lack in strength.

She worries that without this strength,
She will see something different in that window:
A tarnished and hollow girl,
Destroyed because a father eschewed a family
To live a different life somewhere,
Never to be bothered by vows.

She has since made many new vows
Especially to guide her daughter with strength,
Like wise light shining from somewhere
Straight through an open window
To give assurance to the youngest of a family,
Who will one day be much more than a girl.

One day when her daughter is no longer a girl,
The mother hopes there will be exchange of new vows,
Based on strong foundation of family. 
The chosen spouse will be a man of strength:
Always remaining in the frame of that window;
Caring for family, not desiring to go off somewhere.

The daughter will become a woman who has been somewhere,
That challenged her to face what was missing as a girl.
However, she will take a closer look back through that window,
Clearly seeing all the love and wisdom made in vows
By a mother constantly praying for strength
To create for her daughter a true family. 

A clock chimes from somewhere, interrupting thoughts of vows.
The mother takes one last look at her girl, who will grow up in strength,
Before turning away from the window, to go enjoy being with family.

Premium Member Breathtaking

Bright-eyed youths have risen early
			Ready for their special day
			Eager for the life awaiting
			Afterwards, without delay.
			Time for them is of the essence;
			Hopes and dreams must be pursued
			There's no room for fear or doubt--
			Attitudes to be eschewed.
			Kudos will be freely given
			In just hours. Each honoree
			Now will know how BREATHTAKING
			Graduation day can be.


May 8, 2016 (posted)
May 8, 2018, entered in Brian Strand's Contest 435

April 9, 2021
entered in Line Gauthier's Any Acrostic Contest, 10-12 lines

The Souls Progress

I walk in the shadow of death,
I have neglected to care for my soul,
creeping age, brings it close with each breath,
Faith is the breath for your soul to be whole.

But when faith, no longer is there
And you've treated your soul like a shadow,
When it's spiritual needs, you’ve ignored without care,
Leaving no room, to include and to share.

To the promises of church and state,
I now no longer relate,
I cast no blame, I assign no wrong,
But I cannot find Salvation
in a Choral hymn or song.

Doctrine and catechism, drummed in by rote
Never ever would get my vote,
The promise of everlasting damnation,
The subtle procrastination,
Hell fire just left me cold,
threats just made me bold,
rules designed to avoid temptation,
Were eschewed, when recognised,
as misinformation.

The future is what it will be,
If agnostic you’re somehow set free,
To find God in your own special way,
To look forward with hope to that day.

In the meantime just follow these rules,
Just live for the day,
Do your best on the way,
And leave the hereafter,
To fate and to laughter.

Paparazzi

Jude's
                          no prude, but
                  photo'd nude whilst
                               viewed by
                     some crude
                      multi-hued
                           tattooed
                               dude
                               who'd then
                      distributed
                          his lewd pics of her,
                         her mood
                               'blued.' 

                                Brood she
                        did.  Glued to home
                         she stewed, 
                            eschewed
                                food                       
                         and rued that
                   he'd construed for joy 
                          to elude her.  

                 Her ire accrued and,
                             imbued with fire,
                          she clued him in
                     as she sued him:  "You
                   had to intrude! 
                          You too'd
                             exude rage
                         if I'd brewed this 
                       and a feud
                            ensued."             
                              
             Then with a rude
                              allude
                      to the brood his
                     not so shrewd               
                mother'd 'zoo'd,' she
                               'shoe'd' him
                where he poo'd.
© John Smith  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Once More

Once More…
(Apropos Orlando)

Once more and again
bigotry spreads
like a keloid of shame
across the face
of the promise land.

Once more
liberty and justice
proves to be 
only for some—
serving Satan
in the name of God.

Once more
eschewed minds
flake death
to the tested innocent
living out 
the tried truth—
their being
who they are:
children of the same God
blasphemed with desecration
of name.

Premium Member The Usa Nation

~THE  USA NATION~

Observe, the very last of boys and girls.
Teachers decide now if they might be birds?

Educators, these, are also high above you.
Parents’ rights are summarily eschewed!

The once proud Red,White and Blue nation.
Now but a raging transgender sensation!

                  

                  5/3/2023

Newborn Baby

Newborn baby please don't cry
Don't blame yourself that your mom died
She perished for you, she had her time
She wanted you to have yours in this life
Newborn baby your mom loved you
That's why she this life eschewed
All for you she happily chose
To bring to life her tiny pink rose
Newborn baby one day you'll see
Your mom committed an act of love for thee
So you may live and be all you can be
And don't forget this, her final decree
Take care of your father he will need you to be strong
Play all day and remember troubles won't stay long
Be kind to your brother and let him sing you songs
And do your best to get along
Remember your mother and her sacrifice for you
And honor her daily in all things that you do


I was watching The Walking Dead marathon yesterday and Lori dies in childbirth. They have to cut the baby out because it's not coming out on it's own. There are no doctors or hospitals so she knows she's going to die but tells them to do it anyway because she can't lose her baby.  I was inspired to write about it. I hope you enjoyed.

The Running Chestnut- Onomatopoetic

what a running chestnut sounds like                                                                                                                                    when Parting ways with a damsel like the wind whoosh     								   	Naturally the gallant knight of the noble Anguish Languish 									Galloping in clip clop steed whinnying 											standing alone ready to take the blame audaciously 											in the crinkling face of smoke filled nose the dragon 									Roars vibrating the ears rearing an ugly wheezing head                                                                                                      		The hooting laughter hahaha hihihihi of passersby										 burping out who done its in midst of gaseous hissing fog 									 blushing little lady long gone into silent retreat 										 Ripping out loudly It was not the ribit ribit of a croaking frog 								 with swooshing sword raised waving back and forth                                                                                                          		clearing the air taking brunt of insults you pig oink oink eschewed                                                                                                         		The clanging armor holds the dragon slain the stench quenched
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.

Avariciously She Wanted To Be a Poetess

Two Poems



Avariciously she wanted to be a poetess

Cryptic colloquial eloquent words possessed

Often elusive eschewed from the theme

Limericks and rhymes avoiding etymology means

She an emissary of exonerated poetry banned

Refused extrication to facilitate an easy read

Hoped the fallowed grounds would lead the thieves

Foolhardily challenged the spies of poetry

Used furtive and feasible ingenious loquacious words

For the myopic poet seeing past opaque platitudes

A potentate poetess unconstrained by rules

Made a prudent decision of quiescent raconteur

 

The timorous young woman without any means

Observed scant observations of her apparent world

A sense of rectitude despite the rancid rooms

Holding profoundly laud regarding the state of penury

Perhaps, she myopic to any morose situations

A genius idiosyncrasy to others observations

Reading her books extraneous to any interpretations

Choosing eruditions to edify accusing disdains

Definitively making her way, condoning opinions

The cantankerous say.

Escaping reality with ambivalent

Articulate assents by way of academic astute ebullience

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