Best Est Poems
(Inspired by the genius of Ms. Norey Bailey. Please check her out )
Soulful sista
Strolling in her full spirited stride
Just couldn't hide
From my heart's searching eye's
that I swore I
wouldn't allow to be blinded by this mindless modern day luv no more
Until that particular half second
I wanted to run-------grab her by the hands!!!!!!
AND......
take her down to see the Reverend
I didn't have any spare time that was to be wasted
Wanted to recycle my trashy reputatation
Strip
Down My image Un-til- it was raw
So that.....
It could be steamed and not fried
BLESSED
Not viciously devoured
Hope that I'm a genourous helping
That'll nurture your body and soul
and in no way be unhealthy
One who'd always fill you up, never leave you empty
Be your top and bottom money maker and not once will you ever have to pimp me
Easy to open
Hard to tear apart
I play a game thats not a game & i trump any Player's card
I'm what the mighty-dollar can't buy
And I'm the same thing that stores just don't sale
Categories:
est, black african american, inspirational,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Post coitum omne animal triste est,
sive gallus et mulier*
Yes, no cockerel who rules the cackling roost
Will stomach slander from Latin master;
But who will stand aside and let the ghost
Of hints slur old motherhood’s register.
Manhood must of needs hang its head in pain
After all the sweat and toil in loins of love;
After millions of squiggly soldiers in vain
Drop their lean tails at the egg wall alcove.
Only the fool who dares call woman’s bluff
Shall learn hard way positions in bedstead;
Virile pride will sink in the depths of fluff
While smooth gym-trained muscles rage instead.
As they say hereabouts sur le vieil Continent
La différence, Mon Sieur: lip’s shade content.
· * “After the sexual encounter every animal is
grief-stricken,
excepting the cock and the woman.”
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2005-2012. From the collection:
Poems Omega Plus, 2005. Rev. 2012.
Categories:
est, humorous, love, women, animal,
Form:
Sonnet
A little piece of France has passed
away
The heavens for sure now have some gall
with smiles and all
If you no longer exist, then neither do I
longing for times long ago
Your smile captured hearts and souls
when life was more simple
Now I drink le beau dommage
c'est la vie
Her heart and voice brought us innocence
chalice of wine now deplete
We mourn the loss of her song and charm
at graves side we still adorn
Paradise she rests dressed in white
singing
Notes:
beau dommage = happy sadness
c'est la vie = That is life
Categories:
est, beautiful, death, dedication, french,
Form:
Couplet
Mon raison d'être
Your face is more beautiful than the Eiffel Tower at sunrise
Our amour seemed real, n’est-ce pas?
When I first saw you, I sensed déjà vu
Your Mona Lisa smile made me wonder
Is she a femme fatale?
But when you kicked my shins,
I knew that I had made a faux pas
I’ll keep my distance from l'objet d'art
Categories:
est, funny, love,
Form:
Free verse
His eyes full of love,
Embraces the man asking him:
Quod Est Veritas?
Categories:
est, christian, death of a
Form:
c'est comme ça qu'il m'a dit
écris exactement
comme je te conseille
haut et fort
clairement
que même le vent le comprenne
souffleur fou
qui dit la parole
quand il la dit
et laisse la terre livrée à elle-même
qu’elle tremble
en entendant tes paroles
c’est bon signe
que tu t’es fait obéir
traducere de: Angela Mamier Nache.
Categories:
est,
Form:
Prose Poetry
"Just take this chalk," (so went his talk,
to servants sent before):
"And do not balk. When you uncork
good liquor, mark the door."
This way, the churchman planned to pass,
when pausing for a rest,
fun nights in vino veritas,
partaking of the best.
"So, sup the wine, and if it's fine,
write on the lintel (lest
I miss the sign and fail to dine
there) 'Vinum Bonum Est!'"
Off went the servant at a trot.
Would we were in his shoes!
To earn our pay, we play the sot,
by "testing" all the booze!
From bar to bar, he wanders far,
obeying that behest:
but "Vinum Bonum" starts to jar:
He shortens it to "Est"!
He sips this wine, he guzzles that,
and if he is impressed,
he makes a holy concordat,
and marks the doorway, "Est!"
Down through the Alps the servant wends,
to tread Italian soil:
so many blends, to greet as friends!
Unto his task, stays loyal.
Both white and red, their bottles bled,
are flowing like the Arno:
by destiny, the servant's led
to Montepulciano!
Volcanic slopes (some are the Pope's!)
make wine that's heaven-blessed:
and, titillated as he topes,
he chalks up, "Est! Est! Est!"
Some days elapse -- a week, perhaps.
Beneath the tavern's eaves,
round Bishop wraps the sweetest of traps --
he arrives, but never leaves!
The wine is fine -- almost divine --
Soft, like an angel's breath;
To toe the line, he's disinclined --
and drinks himself to death!
And though this tale's beyond the pale,
a moral you may wrest --
each holy grail's adorned with nails --
go slow with Est! Est! Est!
Categories:
est, humorous,
Form:
Quatrain
You will not often find me
In amongst the fold
Being chased from the pen
Wherein your treasure lies
I will not clothe myself in sheep
I cannot be but that which I am
lone
I am wolf
If we are inclined to meat
I will grant what is yours
But choose to hunt me down
And I will eat you alive
I’ll gnaw through my own limb
Before I’m trapped by your design
Neither day nor night possess danger
I will not gladly face
My wisdom is measured in scars
Pain has taught me to outlive
Those who shrank from its lesson
I follow in the footsteps
of those who were never ensnared
And my prints will in turn
Mark the way for those that see
simple symmetry
Lone
I am wolf
You will not see me
Where trees stand in rows
I may come once called
But if you cry my name
Through the village streets
Torch lights will find only you
At the gathering of pitchforks
I will not clothe myself in sheep
My song is not for the broods of man
Beyond his reach the forest is my domain
I sing of mountains and of moons
The chorus of my own kind
Many hear sorrow in these strains
Ever avoiding the presence of solitude
Never knowing the solace of hearing
Voices echo from every distant hill
Harmonies dancing upon the rocks
I cannot be but that which I am
My coat finds no friend
In the blazing glare of the sun
My eyes shine for the gentle glow
Of lunar light and sparkling snow
The flicker of the firmament
The aurora’s phosphorescent stream
The smell of pines rising
From their blanket of ice
The taste of the air
Lately bathed by the rain
Crystals crunching under tufted paws
The soft brush of willows
Upon the weary brow
past present future
Simple symmetry
Lone
I am wolf
I can cipher the patterns of my world
But your structures are fig leaves
To cover this naked earth
The hairs on my spine, alone
Acknowledge your nonexistence
In nurture and in nature
So shall it be
Past present future
Simple symmetry
Lone
I am wolf
Categories:
est, imagery, leaving, people, satire,
Form:
Free verse
Veil of snow impeding my desire,
I trudge in spite of you;
I trudge because of you,
my legs knee deep in ice.
Frigid wind conspiring to obstruct my path,
I trudge despite you,
I travel through you
and my body heat will survive you.
Hopelessly wandering the barren ice,
seeking a reprise.
I am cold, I will surmise;
yet I shall overcome the pain
to achieve my destination;
...because public transportation
should be free and the free-est of them all is walking.
Categories:
est, nature
Form:
For most, 'foremost'
is an nth degree.
But at most, I'm me.
But me? I'm for '-est.'
I am forest.
Categories:
est, art, philosophy, tree,
Form:
Free verse
Ce n’est rien
Le jour que commence avec la pluie
Ce n’est rien
La nuit qui commence avec bougies
Ce n’est rien
La pluie tue tous les espoirs de la bougie, mais
Ce n’est rien
Mon amour aussi
Ce n’est rien
L'amour n'existe pas ici
La vie existe seulement comme un cadeau pour le mort
La vie est loin, la mort est proche
Et alors, Ce n’est rien
Faites-moi une place
Ou la douleur n’existe pas
Faites-moi un repas
Qui me rassasie toujours
J'ai perdu tout mon espoir
Ce n’est rien
Les mots que vous verrez sur ma tombe
Vous le savez déjà
Je ne suis rien
Categories:
est, music,
Form:
Free verse
(The Italian wine "Est! Est! Est!" got its
curious name because 900 years ago a
German bishop liked it so much, he
drank himself to death.)
Those bishop guys in days gone by
were deep and subtle thinkers.
They knew their scripture -- and no lie -
were quite accomplished drinkers.
A German prelate of the Church
was summoned down to Rome:
his servants helped him in his search
for taverns ("home from home").
How lucky we, with S.U.V.,
and motorways, and such:
twelfth century was leisurely --
ten miles a day was much!
What matter if the sun may grin,
and forest flame viridian?
To find an inn to shelter in,
their keen concern quotidian.
Not uninclined to "give it large",
unlike before or since,
he travelled with an entourage,
this spiritual prince.
Each morn he'd send a runner off
to scout the road ahead,
to find a decent Gastenhof,
and guarantee a bed.
The bishop stout (need we point out?),
a man of moral fiber,
was quite devout (but there's no doubt,
he was a keen imbiber!)
Categories:
est, humorous,
Form:
Quatrain
It’s like all the sudden something said "OK Ingrid, now it is time to write again"
So here we are… we two
….you and I swimming amongst these circles and squares...these dashes,darts and dots
jumps...stoppings and startings...periods and lack there of
...of course
So...It begins now
but then that is ridiculous
It began a long time ago in a land so far from me now I have to stop to recall it, as one would stop to recall a book they once read…the plot, the characters all so familiar and on the tip of mind and tongue but then of course not
and one is found floundering and searching …all the while wearing the most preposterous expression
It is impossible to search ones memory and have even the semblance of a sophisticated knowing expression on one's face
It is just part of the human condition
the great equalizer …the rich and the poor, the philosophically advanced and the dumb as dirt
ALL must flounder on memories forgotten and ever relentlessly forgetting shores.
We are not lemmings we are fish
Forgive my pun and weak humor… it is all I have got to try to amuse you while pondering and musing away the time ahead of us about the likes of….
Brown paper bags
Bags….ENORMOUS bags of candy: They MUST have weighed at least 5 lbs
but for a penny a piece =a quarter could make you
Queen of the gum ball and Sorceress of the jaw breaker for at least an entire day.
It is A wonder of nature we are not all dying of diabetes …..and very bad parenting
or are we?
But that is not our real subject…our real subject is the lay of the land
The dot dot dot of it…the slicing of any apple…the creating of a word...a letter …a phrase …any! and all! expression of the depthful interiors of the artistic vase with in
that est perfectum
not because it works and is perfect
but because it exists
at all
in mind and in daring
in ink
Categories:
est, creation, fish, humor, memory,
Form:
Free verse
Mon cœur est pur
Comme la nature
Je te voie dans mes rêves
Pour moi tu vaux cher
Est-ce que tu le vois est-ce que tu l’sens
Que je t’aime énormément
S.V.P fais-moi signe
Tu es ma feuille de vigne
Je regarde souvent
Je pense à toi tout le temps
Je suis en amour
Avec toi et ton sens d’humour
Je pense que le sais
Que je t’aime pour qui tu es
Je t’ai écrit ce poème
Parce que je t’aime
Est-ce que tu le vois est-ce que tu l’sens
Que je t’aime énormément
Fais-moi signe maintenant
Je t’attend depuis longtemps
Haya He He He He
Haya He He He He
Haya He He He He
Haya He He He He
Est-ce que tu le vois est-ce que tu l’sens
Que je t’aime énormément
S.V.P fais-moi signe
Tu es ma feuille de vigne
Categories:
est, boyfriend,
Form:
Lyric
Jacta Alea Est
By Gary L Thomas
A box with six sides
And pips on each
Taunts me to action
Don't want to crap-out now.
\But it's way too late for ponderance.
The bottle's been uncorked
The brew lies in my belly beaming:
Gotcha' again.
Categories:
est, recovery from...,
Form:
Blank verse