Best Excelled Poems
Think I need a man in my life-
a dear writer-friend suggested.
So please dismiss and remiss,
prior I've requested.
Thinking, a man in my life,
could really make things right.
he my man could be my fan...
and fan me all the night.
Cleopatra I could be,
he could be my slave...
YES I think I need a man in my life,
excelled in a good wave!
Think I need a man in my life,
makes me very hot.
"Think I need a husband"-
I simply have forgot.
Think I need a man in my life,
that sounds like so much fun.
Winter time he'll be all mine,
a heater like the sun.
Think I need a man in my life,
to bring me lots of flowers...
Chocolates too; must bring a few,
hand feed me for hours.
Would be nice to have a man in my life,
oh how it sounds so sweet.
I could yell- what's that smell and
he could kiss my feet !
You Are The One I think of the most.You know and carry unconditional love.You have experienced the pains of pains.When You're not in My presence to walk with Me;My mind carries You and holds You deep in thought.The pureness that grows from Good devours The Evil...The walls of Your Heart fall down and open into fields No One Else can possible reach,love,know,or roam.The Wisdom of Your Fields develop and rules Valleys.Valleys expand into Vast Kingdoms filled with Knowledge,Power,and Intelligence...Across The Horizon lies The Kingdom of Heaven in boundaries of grey only a Lion Heart can visualize.The Strength of a Castle is built by Your Own two hands held by Fate.Only a Lion Heart has the keys to open the doors and the ability to cross through the rooms furnished with Destiny untold.A candle is lit.You pace the rhythm with a steady beat.Your Heart restores The Eternal Light with-in.Truth becomes factual.The Greenness of Facts unfold into Beautiful Gardens. Among The Gardens indescribable Rays of Hope appear with Faith as Your Spirit.Your Spirit becomes excelled by love.... LOVE Blossoms into The Reality of Freedom. Freedom is enhanced by Courage...The Courage of A Lion Heart that holds Forgiveness for All. With-in Your Heart A Garden of desire is standing firm and grounded...Could it be possible that You have A Lion Heart? Respect,Understanding,Love;that is Everlasting Serenity... I often wonder where this comes from as an Orion of ringing appears undetectable in Ones Ears... The Lion roars and The Angels sing softly with an inner Peace.May Your Gift of Acceptance Shine-On...From A Creator;to an Angel,better yet A Lion Heart.Walk among The Winners just for Today...
By Charlene L. Wilcox 03-24-2014
If you judge food with the quantity put before you
Then my first choice will be the Victoria Hotel*.
On Sunday lunch, food is too plentiful, makes you blue.
There we will eat so much it will make our tummies swell.
In my travels, I had times when food was super great.
Like when in sunny Ireland we drove up a high hill.
Fragrant smell of seafood, an inevitable bait,
And who cared about driving, chilled white wine was a thrill.
Athens and the Acropolis, a sight to explore.
We descended on foot and found a farm that served meals
We poured some white wine I had never tasted before,
Various cuts of lamb tastefully spiced, worth the deals.
One surprise was in Switzerland, on a mountain high.
My wife and I opted for a trout for the first time.
It was deliciously tasteful, we could almost fly.
We shared a second helping, costed many a dime.
I suppose there are other good times when food excelled,
But Urk in Holland was my biggest surprise of all.
A shack near the sea served food but not even a smell
We ate the finest fresh sole, the chef we had to call.
But the worst food I partook in was in old Brazil
Only meat and hormone-fed chicken, cooked with no skill.
NB The Victoria Hotel is situated in Sliema, Malta, not far from where I live. The food there is always first class, except for the wine :)
Once upon a time there lived a dancer
Shyama, a concubine of a feudal baron
Had a pretty girl Kanha, also a dancer
Quite excelled in playing of the Veena”s tune
Was mortified being Courtesan’s daughter
Sobbing, came to her mother with a question
Calming her down she pointed to God’s statue
HE is your soul-mate will take you away astute
She took to Lord Pandurangam thus advised
As her lover, owner of body, mind and soul
As the classical musician her she was praised
People came with offers, mother turned down all.
Sultan of Vidarbh by her beauty was charmed
Sent order to send Kanha to his serial
She left town at dawn as she had intimation
Went to Pandharpur temple for inspiration.
She wrote, composed and sang as blessed poet
Data was leaked when a man saw her singing
The Sultan besieged the town and held the priest
Quite engrossed she kept on Veena –playing
Chord broke, song disrupted, the statue split
God came out, carried her, the statue joining
Merged with God, piece of scarf stuck in a gap
Kanha got herself in her eternal lover wrap.
**********
Once upon a time in the fourteen century, at Mangalwedhe ,Maharashtra State,
India, the story has taken place. A temple was built later, in Kanhapatra’s name.
The lucky visitors, who strongly believe in Lord Vithal and his miracles, can see or
assume the tiny piece of cloth, stuck (at the place near the heart) on the Lord’s statue.
Contest: Any poem # 3 6th place win
==============================================
*Name of a woman
** Kanha means a belle
*** Veena, an Indian musical instrument
****Pandurangam, a name of the Indian God
*****A feudal Lord of Ancient state Vidarbh of India
******Pandharpur name of the town where there is famous temple of the Lord
Pandurangam
===============================================
Honorable mention
Contest: The ottowa Rima by Jared Pickett
I saw a man stark naked there unexpectedly,
who in his masculine fashion, though not apprehensively,
went gliding (or was he striding?)
down the center of the hall.
He did not glimpse me at all
as my gut called out, What gall!
So brazen, so reckless this peculiar entity
appearing as if from nowhere to step in front of me,
not elegant or slim as I’m fond of men to be;
but neither corpulent nor stocky -that cocky buck he
with a smooth protruding rump, rather like a girl’s,
yet by his gait betokened “straight” with nary a frill unfurled.
Frozen to the floor, gawking all the while,
I tried to surmise what could prompt in one
such imprudent, impudent style.
Was he merely meandering in some somnambulism state
as his simple sex is wont to do even while awake?
Or maybe this curious man had behind his head an eye
from which, though facing forward, did enable him to spy
the stupefied stranger staring at his rounded bare behind.
For he seemed to be parading his rear assets just for me,
which I deemed, as I beheld them, excelled in simplicity!
Though nothing was exceptional, I smiled begrudgingly
at a finely curved back with firm legs attached
in resplendent nudity!
11/11/16 for the Naked Contest of Anthony Slausen
Today is the first day of school
the summer too short at the pool
school days are long
this is so wrong
I think going to school isn’t cool
My father insists that I go
though I argued loud with a No
I squawk and squirm
I’m no bookworm
sure I know all there is to know
Dad threatened to kick me out
no matter my perfect pout
I’m no fool
went to school
now the classics I can spout
At university I excelled
never an instance was I expelled
got the knowledge
finished college
at graduation my Dad’s heart swelled
Truth is easy to write as its fluidity resonates!
At times I read people well, and sometimes, not
This is one of those times I have it right, I believe
He’s an excellent poet with a gentle soul
Blessed with a wealth of knowledge
Already excelled in the craft, now he writes for the joy
Self-assurance shows and he's confident of his worth
Honor he bestows when he leaves comments on my poems
We are graced by the presence in our midst
Of a Doctor of Literature, so unassuming
Always courteous and seemingly devoid of ego
That he would bother to read my poems
Tells me I am not too bad at all
I can tell when he truly enjoys the read
And when he’s merely being polite
For me, Dr. Ram’s comments are better than gold
~*~
For: Joe Maverick's "Better than Gold" Contest
Annalise Brigham
His shop is filled with the finest treasures
The artist walks ‘midst his imposing creations,
By the marvelous statuary, and original pictures.
Artifacts collected from myriads of nations
Featuring tapestries and folk art unparalleled,
The artist walks ‘midst his imposing creations
And those of other masters who’ve excelled
In the finest of arts, from both here and abroad,
Featuring tapestries and folk art unparalleled.
Any person of the finer tastes will be awed
By the lovely oils and large mixed media
In the finest of arts, from both here and abroad.
The artist is clearly a legendary encyclopedia
My appreciation for his knowledge enhanced
By the lovely oils and large mixed media.
As I ambled through, I became entranced
His shop is filled with the finest treasures
My appreciation for his knowledge enhanced
By the marvelous statuary and original pictures.
Written July 25, 2022
Dear Rico your Lim’s were one of a kind
In them you definitely spoke your mind
Your passing has me in tears
You brought us a-lot of cheers
Meeting you here was a treasured find
* I haven’t been that active on the Soup. I just found out “ our” dear friend and poet Rico has passed. We never met in person, but I truly feel like I lost a friend. I’m heartbroken and in tears. This my tribute to him in the form he excelled in.
02/04/23
I ponder marks cut into cliffs
or drawn in caves within the earth
and wonder if I have the gift
to leave a mark of equal worth.
As jet planes streak across the sky,
I think of modern man's advance;
will my profile engraved in stone
say only, "She excelled in dance?"
With silver trophies on my wall
and music thumping in my brain,
I long to weave a warm refrain
one worthy of someone’s recall.
Will sweet notes fall on future ears,
spit from my heart onto the page
and brand me as the wise old sage
whose written words a world reveres?
I read yarns penned by bards of old
and learn of fame poets begat.
Within my breast a yearning burns,
a wish that I could write like that.
Close to election time, we have the chance
to hear the candidates for office speak,
or “stump,” in nearby towns, to give their stance
on issues and improvements that they seek,
to promise they will strengthen all that’s weak.
The term “stump speech” dates back two hundred years,
when it was not used figuratively;
and those of the American Frontier
who ran for office stood, for all to see,
on tree stumps while they campaigned movingly.
All-day affairs complete with food and beer,
these rural fetes were rollicking and loud.
The speakers then (as now) tried hard to steer
the votes their way and captivate the crowd.
By hecklers’ jeers, the brave ones were not cowed.
With jokes and boasts, some livened every speech.
Sharp jabs at rivals filled the country air.
As time progressed, some speakers chose to reach
the crowd, not from a tree stump—but a chair
or barrel. Such scenarios weren’t rare.
Historical accounts of stumping state
the names of stand-out speakers in that day.
Three skilled men who excelled in a debate—
Abe Lincoln, Stephen Douglas, Henry Clay—
were stumpers whose wise words held unique sway.
Today some folks flock to the county fair,
not just for entertainment but to see
the candidates debating with great flair,
expounding on the facts; but they won’t be
atop tree stumps to shout, “Please vote for me!”
February 1, 2022
entered in Emile Pinet's Quintain (English) Contest
How do you measure perfection?
Is it something you can see?
What do we have to compare it to?
Nothing's perfect and never will be
Perfection is in the eye of the beholder
It's all just a matter of taste
But still we're quick to drop labels
Though our judgments be in haste
When we say that someone is perfect
Is to say that someone else has failed
Why don't we reward on merit
And not say perfect, but excelled
Perfection is such a heavey burden
For one to always achieve
It simply means we tried our best
Not what others perceive
All of us will stand in Judgment
For all the things we've done
How many of us are found perfect?
Well, my guess would be, none
She wears many colors in her hair
Though some laugh at her, she just doesn’t care
The rainbow is her crowning glory
For her life once was a sad story.
Downcast she’d been since coming to earth
She’d never known the meaning of mirth
All she had wanted was love and peace
But the conflicts were never to cease.
However she excelled well at school
Till illness struck, life was so cruel
She recovered, but lived life in pain
Carrying on though she remained lame.
One day she found the love of her life
‘Twas wondrous when she became a wife
The invisible chains disappeared
Along with all she had ever feared.
Now she sings because her heart is light
Everything in her world’s shining bright
So she paints highlights into her hair
A colorful rainbow all may share.
Kids flick paper airplanes
And goof around in class
But what can you expect?
The teacher won't get off her ass.
Such lovely etiquette
Our tax dollars at work
So please don't strain yourself
You inconsiderate jerk.
I speak as a student of this class
This very poem my example
And as you can clearly see
My free time is quite ample.
Instead of learning vocab
I'll write some pretty words
While I should be learning other things
Such as nouns, adjectives, and verbs.
But I've far excelled this
It's a waste of my time
I already find this form basic
Why am I still learning rhyme?
Because I am subject to my lazy teacher
Who fritters her time away
As one so elequently put it
"This class is so gay."
Same time
Same place
Different color
Of the face
Same K-12 system
Same university
Different college
Who gained
More knowledge?
Who excelled?
Who got more hell?
Same job
Same school
Same students
Same certification
Different degrees
Who stayed
On their knees?
Both of us
Yes, indeed.
Who achieved
Honestly?
Well let’s see!
Same time
Same place
Different color
Of the face
I made it
By God’s grace
You are
A Satanic disgrace.
You are the
Face of hateful
Hypocrisy
I settle for
None of your
Fallacious foolishness
And malicious mediocrity.
Same hometown
I keep it real
You a damn clown
God’s giving you
A furious frown
A lazy witch
Probably born rich
Living in the sticks
Killing nature’s beauty
Just to get away
From people like me
An earth killer
Fake teacher
And destiny stealer
A true thriller
Makin fake scrilla
I worked hard
While you pressed bricks
Storing awful ATP
To make sure
You got the best of me
And people from my
Community.
My adenosine triphosphate (ATP)
From glycolysis in my body
After Krebs cycle
Gives off love
While yours come
From hate
We’ve had the same bodily
Processes similar chemical makeup
I just have more melanin
You act the way you act
Because of your grandfather’s mistakes
I hate to see your fate
If you don’t change
You are devilish
And deranged
I know your game
Your name
We’re from the same turf
You and I
Are carbon based products
One tries hard daily to be just
So that when the minister
Says ashes to ashes
And dust to dust
That I get the reward
I deserve
You got my reward
I still work hard
My ATP
Detests the enemy
It ain’t fair
That we walked in the same place
Respect you received
And hate slapped me in the face
Walking around with on your face
Did a dissertation on me
If I looked like you
With my knowledge
At 23 I would have had
Ten PhD’s.
Girl please you got the nasty woman disease
Get on your knees for the right reas’
Pray to us Jes’
Save me from being a real bigot
And sometimes on the sly
Help me to love you
And all your creatures
And accept diversity
You need help with that dirty blond hair
Pony tails sticking in the air
Depicting your true savior
Not mine that will catch the one’s
That are still alive and in Him
Up in the midair.