Best Exacting Poems
I think it’s time I write
Write you OUT
Of the coming pages of my life
Oh…you linger
On every page
that's ever been
Keeping the plot a disguise
Unexpected events
My heart's demise
Slowly but surely
being written
By your unseen hand
I reread chapters
You were in my yesterday
You haunt my today
I don’t want you in my tomorrow
Not when you only bring me pain
No
I’m going to write you out
Cause I couldn’t write off
The debt of pain
I STILL OWE
To your oh so exacting heart...
I can't write it off
and so...
I’ll do the next best thing
I'll write you OUT
Out of the next scintillating sizzling sexy sentence
Out of the next dreamy dreamscape
Out of the next contentment compartment
Out of the next feminine fruition fantasy
For you've written only fragments
Sentence fragments of the greater picture me
Oh my!
Oh me!
I’m going to write you OUT
Of MY book
Of rememberance
The book of ME
Oh, it could have been
The best seller of your LIFE
But now you'll never know
Cause the coming pages are clean
for some beautiful soul
Some expert author
With the plot of pleasure
Bursting from his heart
Onto me
I'll LET HIM
Scribble his lines
Those glorious curves and dots
all over my body and mind
all over me...
Yes....spill his passion inked words
ALL....OVER....ME!!
And him..
HIM
I'm going to write IN
Oh...so deep and gloriously...IN
The book of ME
Eileen Manassian
Fierce am I, and fearless
Challenging the shades of winter
Taunting its dreaded demise
Mocking the shadow's prognostication
Tickling the timid hearts
Of somnambulant lovers
Arising to a chilling challenge
I stand the guardian of March’s madness
Exacting a toll on all who pass
For I am February
And I hold no heart
But yours
A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession, it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone, the mother
requires exacting conditions
to maintain her (family/) children’s love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her
understandable
especially when you think about the complexity
of structure and process took in the creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient Greek
this allotrope of carbon
with the strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of a love so strong
between mum and child
The Maternal being - could be compared
to the supreme physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic lustre
of this gem so prevalent from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths
roles and qualities of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high-pressured job
versus the high-pressured temperature
within the Earth’s mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love captures the magical lustre
of those born, and nothing
stands in between this richest of cargo’s
Buildin’ Birds…
Your hands dart and weave
In, out, up.. then hover
Swoop right… then left
As simply as sight
Of a birds dreamy flight
Floating to perch proud on rocky cleft
Subtle magic’s paint
Concept, thought to Action
Life wrought from death
As eloquently as the Master
Reaches out from the hereafter
And grants the unborn gift of breath
Chaos now cornered
Seeks out surge, hands direct
And collar by will
And just as Angels acting
So precise, measured, and exacting
Leave scarce a ripple on waters still
Trumpet Grande Crescendo
Labors love ushered in
A diamond from primal smolder
A new winged gift to grace us
Snatched still in pristine stasis
To soar in the eye of the beholder
(Narrative)
I wrote this poem after peeping through the doorway of my wife Nancy’s workspace as she
crafted her beautiful bird sculptures. I was utterly amazed at the delicate movements she so
gracefully employed to wring creations that seemed to capture a split second of nature so
completely as to cause the beholder the illusion that she had somehow stopped time.
Literally, a hummingbird caught between the beats of its wing for one to marvel at. Of all
Nancy’s creative endeavors I still rank her “Buildin’ Birds” as her paramount artistic
endeavor.
Our fig in January, entirely denuded now
like my heart in your absence, is but
more beautiful, if possible, in its seasonal
solemnity than in summer's exacting extravagance.
The trunk, grown massive in manhood, is a citadel
of strength supporting the curving bowl of its
branches as they bend back into themselves, becoming
the bare black sculpture of winter trees Hemingway
described in Paris in the Jardin of Luxembourg
where we used to walk, following in his footsteps.
These prayerful branches, grown as large as
the beanstalk giant of storybook lore, cup
the sky, making a sieve through which rain filters,
better for unobstructed passage to its
earthbound blessing, clearer for the distillation.
Above ground two massive roots, more visible
in winter definition--veins from the beating heart
of the tree--though siblings still, sprawl out
in different directions, then disappear wherever
they are traveling, who knows where? Not
climbing skyward like Jack on his leafy ladder,
but earthward out of sight toward a Southern
provenance, toward Provence, perhaps,
as if impassioned for home.
HAPPY NEW YEAR FELLOW SOUPERS!
Diana, Nature’s Guardian
Defending purity, virtues, by preordained, destine.
With faithful diligence I oversee all life that’s birthed.
Celebrating nature as its radiant guardian
Fulfilling life’s desire with independent strength girthed.
I am Diana, Goddess of hunting wild animals.
Protector of the natural world both domestic and wild,
Camels, beetles, jackals, deer, hogs, flowers, myrtles, squirrels -
All in my magical care live wonderful lives beguiled.
Fertility and childbirth, my responsibility,
Accomplished spontaneity living, functioning well.
Reflecting light among the beasts with great nobility.
An accomplished war-like goddess guarding while lives impel.
Hunting dogs track down their prey; fearful deer run. I am there.
Staying in the midst of them observing, balancing, and keeping.
Preying is part of life’s design sustained with greatest care.
Plants and animals live mortal lives wisdom possessing.
Plundering men cause great concerns that must be soon resolved.
Wreaking havoc here on earth, plowing jasmine, balm, mugwort,
Destroying creatures, felling trees, habitats requiem.
Man must change his wasteful ways to prevent my last resort.
Mother to the animals I recycle elements.
Wildlife conservation thrives, careful awareness acting.
Take heed ravenous plundering men, lest my anger vents
And another species takes your place, last choice exacting.
You can find me in my sacred place among quiet oaks.
Cherishing my own chastity, purity makes me swoon.
Walking in my natural world hearing each frog that croaks.
Living flawless beneath God’s sun, reflections from the moon.
© August 1, 2010
The rib of Eve is fashion's price
A sadistic trap of six-inch heels
Some masochist's torture device
Or for added bust appeal
To wrap the torso so austere
And lift upon bands of steel
The French grandly name the brassiere
Paris, an exacting Madame
Wielding her whip of sharp cashmere
No slouching, suck in that diaphragm!
A lady glides on blistered feet
Starved to belong, sweet tooth be damned
No sweat allowed in any heat
Only single digit sizes impress
Shunning all those more than petite
Sisters, what happened to progress?
Our feminist freedoms manifold
We deserve to be a mess!
Gray is lovelier than gold...
4/12/19
For Quirky Tercets contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Melodious kaleidoscope
of broken glass,
Its mosaic montage
consumes lost encounters;
a toasting ceremony
for what perished.
Committed specialization
expires unrewarded.
Sand dollars of short-sightedness
decorate
the exacting goddess
of broken importance.
Sliced open,
laid bare,
and reassembled,
the vintage gown
of fractioned fragments
unites again
with the society of tarts and cakes.
The time bundle
of formulated heartbeats,
pulsate
expansion and contraction
into
the altered ambiance
of passion’s fragrant fable.
Irrefutable evolution conduits
Matter tip toes through tunnels
Microscopic nano shifts continue
Outperformers filter free of funnel
Replicas of kept traits hail heredity
Thrivers cognate with larger logic
Attentive nurture forms pedigree
Love poured over timid progeny
Genome keys cut exacting bones
Entrapped wrapped sticky chrysalis
Nature photocopies, care duly hones
Elevating banquet, perpetual Christmas
Elevation in Evolution
Eighth of December
Desirable Education
I hammered some words
Out from the quarry of my brain
They fell around in shards;
Some like boulders,
Some like rocks and rubble
I picked them up one by one.
Block on block, I piled them up
Thinking I could build a ‘pleasure dome’
But,
When it was time for the workman
To marvel over the beauty and wonder
Of his dream creation
His masonry tumbled down
Like sand castles built
By little hands on sea strands
Or dunes of quicksand sliding down
I have lost count of the times,
This has happened before.
Now I stay resigned,
Amid a heap of debris
Is there any use feeling remorse?
When Rome was burning,
Like Nero fiddling on his harp,
I sit on this pile of wreck
Piping my thoughts away
In the cusp between victory and defeat
Exacting as much ecstasy as I can
Before the truth looms large
In all its stark nakedness!
____________________________________
May.14.2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Whiskey
Whiskey made a fool of me
exacting misery’s price
and for its luster and allure
left me always wanting more.
Whiskey took my sins away,
but briefly, they returned each day,
edges sharper from exile,
flames new fueled by old denial.
Whiskey, promises of peace,
drunken apple out of reach,
calming seas by pouring oil
setting stage for scathing boil.
Whiskey, sad magician’s maze,
comforter, or madman’s craze,
searching in the shifting sand
for images of shapeless man.
Whiskey, warrior disarmed,
closes reason with her charm
dashes hopes on ragged shore
leaving vanquished craving more.
Whiskey made a fool of me
but surely I consented.
Whiskey made a fool of me
but sure I was demented.
Taking my place in your gazing blue eyes
Who stole the glow of my dawning sunrise?
As defiling your virtues you obliquely lied,
Pounding my heart till I died a little inside.
When a brilliant sunny day said goodbye
As lightening arrived to thunder blue sky
Storming my life, you left me teary eyed
Exacting high price by forfeiting my pride.
Reluctantly I disclaimed your sweet smile
As your blatant animosity put me in exile
And adulating ill-will you ceded to hate,
Trampling on destiny you altered my fate.
On my horizon cried your reign of disdain
As you rejected goodwill again and again.
Remnants of aspirations no longer claim
A desire of passions to reignite our flame.
Meaning of love soon indelibly changed
Revoking your name from souls estranged.
Hurt still remained, woefully pacified--
Lingering listlessly, till I died a little inside.
February 9, 2019
Placed first:Early March 2019 contest by Brian Strand
Placed second:I died a little inside contest by Silent One
Damaging winds whip and slash, whirling wild, drenching rain,
Roads decimated come to standstill, as gushing floods reign,
Inundating swollen terrains, roiling deluge of a tenebrous day,
As trees bowing to gusting storms; erratically waltz and sway.
Houses naked with roofs blown, now ache, mangled and worn,
Where loss of life, in makeshift shelter, neighbors sadly mourn;
Sharing stories of a sudden event, rushing through the town,
Disheartened life, since torn-down, anguishing in wistful frown.
Danger lurks, where flood waters submerge fallen power lines,
As rivers and tributaries of muddy-flows, float uprooted vines,
What once was a harmonic rhythm, now perturbs pulse of life,
Dawn that rose on a lambent arc, now shudders in sullen strife.
People stranded, anxious for rescue, assess the damage done,
Cars are destroyed, fires are burning, recovery has just begun;
Sirens blaring of dire emergencies, are chasing to plug gas-leaks,
Searching for victims of drowning, scouting the rivers and creeks.
Swindlers are hovering, ripping-off elderly, exacting heavy price,
Hit by the tragedy first, then by the cruelty of defrauding vice;
Some now blame callous humanity, some name it~ an act of fate,
Mired in untold challenges, as remnants-torrent start to abate.
September’s serendipitous serenade
Evokes the ebullience of ecstasy
Provokes a prancing promenade
Tingeing the torrid leaf tips
Exacting an elemental excitements
Monumental majesty
Blue-black horizons blending
Exotically enigmatic exigencies
Ruby reds rollicking in the Rockies
John G. Lawless
©9/1/2018
The pressure is on, can't let a day go by
Without writing a poem... that would be unthinkable
The Poetry Police would be breaking down my door
And exacting severe punishment
Us poet guys are committed (or should be! LOL)
A bit of humour there...
Even on those days when it feels like we're brain dead
We must call on all the intestinal fortitude we can muster
Even if it's a five line limerick
What about a five line narrative?
Does that work or am I twisting the rules?
What do you call this thingy dingy that you're reading now
Ha! Gotcha... it's a POEM!!!!!
What a tricky guy I am...
When writing about writing a poem, I'm writing a poem
(titles are everything)........