Best Evidently Poems


Anxiety Monster

Anxiety, Anxiety-
you creep, you lurk, you worry me
Mangy monster under my bed
on all my fears you must be fed
and when I try to starve you out
you stab me with a blade of doubt

You sneaky, scurrilous, savage beast
I don't hate you, but I like you least!
You are not cute or cuddly
why do I let you cling to me?
You're ugly and you're worrisome
you drain my joy and leave me glum

Anxiety, Anxiety-
I hear you've achieved notoriety
evidently I'm not the only one
you'll hassle them all before you're done!
'Though, I don't see how you find the time
to carry out your heinous crime...

For all day long, and nighttime, too
a hovering pest, too big to “shoo”
you hang around and taunt me fierce
by dangling daggers with which to pierce
I tremble in my delicate skin 
but chin stuck out, I'm determined to win

Anxiety, Anxiety-
you will not get the best of me!
You've wasted enough of my precious years
you deserve no sympathy or tears
like the monster you are, you'll be destroyed
I've armed myself with the likes of Freud

While you watch me, I'll study you more...
know your every weakness- for this is war!
I'll vanquish you for once and all
I've armored up for the bloody brawl
but hey- what's this, a hasty retreat?
Don't tell me that you admit defeat!

No Anxiety, Anxiety-
you're devious, sly and slippery
Before you let me kill you off
you slink away to smirk and scoff
knowing full well that you'll come back
to get me with a sneak-attack!
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member To the One I Lost

We both cared so much, you completed me,
Evidently you were meant for me.
Love persisted to manifest
Although at the same time blessed,
Till infinite heaven
Called, and forgiven.         
I am driven                      
Belonging
Longing,
Tears.

Plead for closure of long years.
Prey as feathers picked off, death fret,
Like a scared bird, tangled in a net.
You completed me, I cannot forget.
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member My Fair Maiden

I called upon yonder window
That was up to high for me to be
For my maiden gracefully sleeps there
In her bed,beside the sea

I asked her to come hither
For her beautiful face I yearned to see
Twas yawning in the morning dew
As she slowly came to the window for me

To my amazement came forth a ragged wench
Whos hair was as raged as the sea
With eyes that were burnt as nightposts
To bloodshot and squinty to even see

For this was not my fair maiden?
Whos beauty would forever be
But a drunken harlot who came hither
That she spent the night with instead of me

My heart now broken to pieces
Wondering how could this tragedy be?
For my maiden now sleeps with a harlot?
Without the love that she once gave to me?

My mind was now enraged
So I dashed for the wrestling sea
With thoughts of drowning this useless body
That's no longer good enough for my maiden to see

With water just over waist height
And a large wave about to crash over me
I heard a calling from yonder window
Twas my beautiful maiden as I turned to see

Her beautiful eyes in such distress
Her beautiful hair flowing so care free
Twas the beauty of my fair maiden
That I had called upon yonder window to see

For the thoughts that raced through my mind
Evidently,weren't truely what happend to be
For it was her promiscuous sister
Who had come from the other side of the sea

My heart now rebuilt with a sigh of love
A large wave suddenly crashes over me
The last thing I saw was my fair maiden
As my lifeless body is carried out by the sea



DannyBoy:1-24-13
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member 4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse

4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse

The last book of the Bible-Revelation, has intrigued and terrified many a reader in the last 2,000 years or so since it was penned.  If you don't like religious writings I suggest you check out of this one.  I wrote this not to scare anyone but rather to inform those who care to know, the true meaning of this enigmatic write.

(For reference purposes please see Revelation chapter 6; Matthew chapter 24; and Luke chapter 21.)

In Revelation 1:1-3, we see that Jesus Christ is the one who gave this vision to the Apostle John, so that all would know how future events would unfold, and would give his faithful (Christians) hope for the future. (see verse 3 which shows that those who read this book of prophecy could be happy even during these turbulent times)

In Revelation chapter 6 we see described the 4 horsemen of the Apocalypse.
First the rider on the white horse (evidently Jesus Christ) 
Second is described a rider of a fiery (red) colored horse.(World war)
Third is described a rider on a black horse. (World wide famine)
Fourth is described a rider on a pale colored horse. 
(War, Famine and Pestilence)

Each of these horsemen are symbols of what is foretold to occur in the period the Bible calls the "last days" or "end times".

When a comparison is made between these parallel accounts (Revelation 6; Matthew 24; Luke 21) we can discern they are one and the same in meaning.
They were all prophecies spoken by Jesus to his faithful followers as to what they could expect to happen before his second coming.

They describe a period of time where Worldwide war,  Famine  Deadly plague and Great earthquakes would occur at an unprecedented (never before seen) scale. 

Those who choose to know, and understand, find hope (not fear) in these words of the book of Revelation.

May these difficult times find you searching for understanding in God's Word the Bible. 

If you do read it, you will no doubt find comfort in knowing that these difficult times are what precedes, a wonderful new world, paradise restored here on earth under one government, God's Kingdom! See Rev21:3,4


April 21,2020
John Derek Hamilton
Form: Didactic

Tasha and Brother

TASHA AND BROTHER

Tasha was a wooly bear of a chow
Who found a homeless kitten somehow 

He followed her home and she took over his care
Grooming and cleaning, smoothing his unruly hair

For months they made their daily appointed rounds
On the woody paths they considered their grounds

Eating and sleeping together and always by her side 
The kitten called Brother was his "Mother's" pride

One day Tasha was upset we could see
Brother was gone where could he be

Looking and searching the nearby wood
Was fruitless revealing nothing of any good

Tasha decided she would take the task on
She looked back at us and then was gone

Later she arrived with head hanging low
But that wasn't all she had something to show

A small cat she held ever so gently 
Breathing no longer his life gone evidently 

Her heart was broken she couldn't recover 
Her small son departed so for her it was all over

Soon thereafter Tasha knew that find him she might
Sadly the rainbow bridge was where they would reunite

But in evening's fading light two shadows are sometimes seen
Showing those who might glimpse this unforgettable scene 
How much love between two small creatures there had been
Form: Couplet

Oh Fisherman

I am in stupid love,
a fish out of water
caught by a slimy worm.

Hooked by hunger
and evidently truth,
but this bowl is far too real
to swallow.

My freedom was stolen
and he just laughs
as I swim around
in ridiculous circles,
searching for a knob-less door.

My voice gurgles as I ask him,
Oh simple-minded fisherman,
why'd you go and snag me like that
and what did you keep me for?


Responding To Pain

RESPONDING TO PAIN

Why do bad things happen to good people?
A legitimate question as most answers seem feeble

Difficult circumstances, harm and pain are often inflicted
When righteous people struggle and sorrow so clearly depicted

We need to begin understanding along with defining ‘righteousness’
Clearly it’s not those who live their lives with justice and goodness

Fresh perspectives-- trials are not intentional things that befall us
 Reaction to pain should be trying--striving to manage without fuss 

When our love of God depends solely on what makes us feel good
Faith becomes dependent on circumstances- evidently misunderstood
Form: Rhyme

My Friend

My Friend

Sometimes I am my only friend.
Sometimes only Jesus is my friend.
But some friends that I've had are gone.
Some are dead, some just said so long.

You see lately, I feel very much alone.
And sadly, it causes my heart to turn to stone.
The only friend that I do want, no longer wants me.
The love got lost for she just will not see.

Um, ooops, I was in a very bad way this day evidently. Because I just finished this poem with a vulgar rant of how I was feeling at that time. Hmmm, not the best way to wrap up this exercise huh? :) lol Oh well, life goes on and I've made some new friends since then and the sun came out the next day or whenever. It may have been cloudy that next day, call your local meteorologist if you want to know for sure. :) I hope your sun is shining where ever you are today. Love Leslie. <3 :)

Note: Day 7 of writing exercise.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Kintsugi - Mended With Gold

Broken, this aged vessel
fractured by fate in matter and mind
careworn and cracked like creeping veins of window frost ...

          (but colder in my solitude, I surmise)

Oh, but wholly blessed on the surface, really
no furrows or folds or wrinkly crows
hardly a dozen gray hairs, but for goatee' ...

          (winter taking hold there, evidently
          the once fiery and fervently experienced lips
          put to the frigid air of the disinterested and forsaken)

Too proud, really, that I look twenty years my lesser
for it reaps naught but envy ...

          (when I yearn for naught but love)

Yes, the porcelain facade still reflects the sun
but ONLY that, then back to whence it came
the warmth seeps not, and oh the splintered shell within
shards as sharp and crimped as British wit
whether by bent or happenstance or horrid folly ...

          (they are as defined as they are hidden
          as black as they are white
          as cursed as they are blessed)

A hundred and more, they are a memory, each
a pain, a tragedy, a misstep, a ravaged heart given fully
returned with but a wish and a wave
but you see, those cracks and breaks and chips
all carefully mended ... with gold ...

          (caring friends, exquisite joys, profound experience, loving family
          hope, faith, renewed self-respect, and a million little things
          that may pass others unnoticed
          but to me, are the lifeblood of existence)

They fill the seams with the most wonderful precious metal
and that broken, shattered soul is healed
made whole by what is truly valuable and lasting
far more formidable and beautiful and priceless ...

          (with the wisdom of breakage and healing
          and all the myriad lessons learned in the process)

Than it ever was ...

          (than I ever was)

Before.





Submitted on April 4, 2020
To the "Strand Choice Z, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest
Brian Strand, Sponsor.

( For those not familiar with the ancient Art of Kintsugi, please take a moment to check it out - it represents a model for life that is very special - strengthening through adversity. Here's a link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kintsugi )

Kiss of Lies

Tracing my fingers on his lips
I knew they told me lies,
I kissed them anyway
I had loved the way love tastes...
Fingers intertwined in mine,
He said he was mine,
He sealed it with another kiss,
A kiss of lies
Lay beside me
Reminiscing
On our highs and lows,
And the years that passed us by- so slow
My eyes told him i loved him
The pained expression in his 
Told me he didn’t feel the same way.
Kiss of lies
Trying to change
What evidently lies
Ahead.
I tried to memorize
How his face felt under my hands
And his posture when he stands
I tried to etch
His scent onto mine
Grasping at anything that would
Keep us close,
Frantically trying
Because i wanted him to feel the same way
I wanted him to stay,
My heart knew overtime
That something had changed
Kiss of lies
In the life
He had promised me
Even when he knew he’d leave
Kiss of lies
He didn’t love me
He just wanted use me
One last time
Before he said goodbye
Kiss of lies
On his tongue
That promised me the world,
And had me believing in
Fairytale scenes
And things made up in our dreams,
Like “I love you” and “i do’s” 
With tiny hands
That symbolized
The depth of love shared.
Kiss of lies
That played across his lips
In soft whispers
And internal tears,
I refused to be 
Driven by fear;
Not this time,
Love WOULD be my lifeline...
He leaned in close,
Brushed his lips against mine,
Promised that he’ll always be mine
He said it all with a smile
And his
Kiss of lies
© Fel Fel  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Personally Together

Been cruising on that tank of gas.
That's come from sitting on my ass.
With all these changes in this year.
I have succumb to what I fear.

For reasons I cannot explain.
My daily habits became refrain.
A situation changed my path.
And what was joy became my wrath.

Physiology is body and soul.
Sometimes beyond our own control.
We get blind sided in a split second.
One simple moment that I never reckoned.

Am I just making bad excuses?
To not take blame for my abuses.
Well, yes and no's all I can say.
When the scale changed in what I weigh.

So with the hope that we all share.
In this next year we breath fresh air.
And get back to what we need to live.
And in our hearts learn to forgive.

For none of us have known such strife.
In this new strange time of our life.
We've all been challenged with a task.
To wait for all the things we ask.

The trials that some of us bear.
Are beyond what some of us can share.
Deep in our hearts lives hope and prayer.
That one day, together, we'll all be there.

So let us all stay safe and well.
And send this virus back to hell.
And strive for kindness in your soul.
To return us to where we all are whole.


Note: This was written before the movement of non vaccinating. Hence, the sentiment of personally together. Evidently, just personal, not together. But our actions are of a mutual consequence. Please look at the facts and get vaccinated. There are people dying on your watch.
Form: Rhyme

Thanks For Noticing Book Woman

This child is so evidently alone
Drenched with loneliness and overflowing of hurt
His mother’s not there and his father doesn’t care 
This child needs aid!!
Staring into his eyes I see excess desolation and absent affection 
Something is missing. Something isn’t there.
His demeanor so pleasing to the eye
But I see. I see that optimism has abandoned this child.
If he where mine I would walk with him, tell him a joke, or make him smile.
Please! Someone rescue him. 
I know tears of solitude massage his face when he attempt to rest
I know behind that smile hope is lost
I know he curses God for living in that orphanage.
Someone please help that boy!!! 
For that boy might be lost and never found. 
For that boy might attempt to find his way out of solitude through drugs.
For that boy might run away and never look back
If there is anyone that can hear me that little fellow needs your help!!
Look at him sit in that corner as if not a thing is wrong
Look at him continue. How can he continue like this? 
The book lady looks him in the eye and to see his eyes quiver with sorrow. It’s ok as he cries.
Someone’s here. I’m here. We will be.
Thank you for noticing.
(I was just flipping through some old photos and saw a picture of me a few days before I met 
my foster parents.  Viewing the picture when I was in the orphanage is my eyes looked so 
full of anguish and sorrow all I could think was “thank you for noticing”)

Identity Crisis

There was a time when tradesmen,
Like plumbers or mechanics, were all fulltime people.
But nowadays a tradesman has to do multiple tasks, 
Mainly because their number is dwindling.
When they are not available,
Householders have to do the job themselves.
It stands to reason. 

Similarly, occupations like thieving, robbery, villainy, etc.,
Used to be carried on on a fulltime-basis. 
You could tell such characters apart
By their behavior, dress code and looks.
Fagin, Phoolan Devi, and Veerappan are eloquent examples.
Even a street dog could easily single them out
And start barking loudly.

But nowadays, in these postmodern times,
Or Kali Yuga (if you like),
Such marks of distinction seem to be lost. 
Obviously, such ‘trades’ nowadays have gone part-time.
But the question is: Why so many part-time people 
(seeing that their number is ever increasing), 
And when, evidently, there is so much scope? 
Why don't people go fulltime?

Could anyone explain why or why not?
© Ram R. V.  Create an image from this poem.

The Great Race June 6, 2015

The Great Race   June 6,2015

Dress is unimportant.
At least today.
I can arrive at the local bar and grill 
in old gardening jeans and t-shirt.

We'll order a mid-afternoon sandwich.
But the main reason is not to eat
(though their sandwiches are fine),  
it's to watch the Belmont Stakes.

We can't call ourselves horse racing fans –
we know almost nothing about horses or racing
and have never bet a dime.
But the excitement around a possible
Triple Crown winner is irresistible.

We're keeping our fingers crossed 
that American Pharaoh, 
winner of the Preakness and Kentucky Derby,
triumphs.

Why are we not watching the race at home?
No cable TV. We miss a lot of major sporting events 
that we once effortlessly watched –
tennis, golf, basketball, baseball, football.

Tournaments which determine the best of the best 
used to be available on the internet. 
No longer. It's pay to watch now,
and we're too cheap to pay.

So it's off for a beer, snack, and the great horse race ...

And an historic race it was.
Not since 1978 has there been a Triple Crown champion –
a long dry period between winners.
American Pharaoh won handily, running with grace and endurance.      

The horse seemed pleased.
The jockey was thrilled.
The trainer was delighted.
And the owners excited.

It's a strange sport though.
The horse did all the work,
while the jockey, trainer and owners
got all the credit.

Those in the know praise the brilliant trainer.
Evidently he is, along with the horse, the best of the best.
Celebrations surely meant champagne all around           
and an extra bag of oats for American Pharaoh.

Aka Jewfish

AKA JEWFISH

I hooked a JEWFISH back in 67 near
Key Largo in a creek of the same name
stripping my gear she yawned and swam away
at 50 lbs she was a monster I wanted to tame

2011 I hooked him yes him again
she’s a he they change sex unknown to me
in 50 years he gained 450 lbs my
massive tackle yanked him up for a look see

I cut the leader as he broke the surface
illegal to boat him between you and me
an endangered specie since we first met but
something else transpired in his family tree

JEWFISH no longer correct since
GOLIATH GROUPER gained political sway
opening that cavernous mouth again
flicking his fins he lumbered away

only in the Keys could a creature age 50 yrs
gain 450 lbs change sex and given name 
long after becoming an endangered specie
he’s still relevant and evidently in the game
Form: Narrative

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