Best Expressly Poems
The legendary teen idol Elvis Aaron Presley
was criticized for his gyrations, expressly.
And yet, this shooting star went supernova,
morphing into a teenage Casanova.
When this Memphis boy began to croon
he'd wildly grind his hips to the tune;
and flashing his ice-blue eyes,
he'd generate tears and sighs;
while making the young girls scream and swoon.
Born blond, he dyed his hair black
and the King never went back.
He seemed to suffer an itch,
the way he would twist and twitch.
We sisters three
Do so decree
That these men
Know their sin.
Reaz, you mortal Fool
Illy was your sacred Jewel.
How could you endlessly cheat
And lead her on with such deceit?
We sisters three
Do so eloquently decree
That these foolish men
Never ever hurt again.
Lamar you are a lazy bum.
To crack you always succumb.
Leerie was a wonderful wife
Yet, your words wound like a knife.
We sisters three
Do so powerfully decree
That these thoughtless men
Feel agonizing pain within.
Daniel the monster you are
Never saw Kristy as a star.
She was just someone to beat
Whenever you felt other defeat,
We sisters three
Do so expressly decree
These imprudent mortal fools
Learn a new set of rules.
We rhythmically dance and sway
While words of ancient knowledge do play
Powerfully upon our very lips
During the Lunar Eclipse.
Our wish we do so prayerfully want
Your dreams we shall constantly haunt
Until you learn that your evil deeds
Will never ever fruitfully succeed.
Hear ye, hear ye: Listen to my timeless presentation
If you'd like to conquer anger, irritation, or vexation.
My name is Emerson, Ralph Waldo if you please,
I founded Transcedentalism, creating a fresh breeze
Which elevates and fortifies an individual's will and spirit,
To withstand provocations intended expressly to smear it.
The vehicle is simple, a child's plaything:
A spinning top designed to give us a wing,
To raise us above petty squabbles and strife,
Bringing peace to the world, enriching life.
The top has four sides, each with a letter,
Symbolic of strategies to help us to better
Withstand darts and arrow aimed by others at us
As we keep our own counsel: Discuss---never cuss.
Spin the top as fast as you can,
Wait eagerly to see where it lands;
If 'B' is face up, it means 'Breath:'
So 'Take a Deep Breath;'
Exhale -- Anger's died an angelic death!
Spin you magic top again:
If it lands on 'S,'
Smile your widest smile,
Grin your jolliest grin:
Now there's no way at all for irritation to seep in!
Once more twist your top;
Watch it land on 'C.'
'Count to 100,' then wait and see:
From vexation you'll flee;
You'll feel only glee!
The last side the top can land on is 'L.'
'L' stands for 'Loss' -- Compare it with 'Gain:'
You Anger will only land you in Trouble again,
Whereas Peace and Tranquility win the day,
Providing adults much-needed opportunity for play.
Now I know our tops are not cheap,
They're priced pretty high;
But what matters money
When you soar to the sky?
February 28, 2018
Stress is an
Understatement when it comes to the
Mine field called school.
Millions and millions of children and teachers
Expressly waiting for the last
Ringing of the school bell
For the year.
Understanding the price of the diploma; but, wanting
Nothing more than that "hot break".
I know belamour means lover;
but a flower too is defined.
Webster puts it undercover -
a flower, who knows what kind?
Gertrude Stein penned famous words we've heard,
"A rose is a rose is a rose."
Smelling a rose, our minds are stirred,
but a belamour? no nose knows.
Meet the artist - George Dunlop Leslie.
His painting called Sun and Moon Flowers
has caught my attention expressly,
for I have not heard of moon flowers.
On closer examination
I found only sunflowers full burst.
Reading George’s explanation
has not quenched my mind of its thirst.
He explained contradistinction,
moonflowers have a paler bloom.
With florist’s flair for composition
so George arranged the girls in the room.
Sun or moon flowers? my mind's still mud;
but go back to that "belamour".
Belamour’s an unopened bud,
that's what Webster meant, now I'm sure.
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/belamour
http://www.gardenofpraise.com/artprint26.htm
She's reckless and cautious
in the same breath,
sensibly abstruse and uninhibited
elusively in your face,
introspective in her extroversion
expressly shy when she wills to be,
rapture in the mist
an enigma unto man
a force to be reckoned
he couldn't possibly envisage,
don't try to comprehend the
wind 'neath her wings,
she's poetry replete
with esoteric allusions
Reality is a ***** of a mistress
everyday feels like a negotiation,
should be like a babbling brook
over silken-like pebbles instead of
sucking acrid marrow's gritty pith,
hardly expecting smooth sailing each
day nor Disneyland phantasmagoria,
but the crux of the matter is life's
so much shorter than expected,
every now and then it would
be nice to take a breath, have a
moment to smell sweet wildflowers,
perhaps a bubble bath whilst reading poetry
savoring the aroma of morning coffee,
time expressly for contemplation - -
yet, guess I shouldn't complain
considering the vast alternative,
caffeine breaks could be
laden midst silvery cloud covers...
MAGIC IS THE MIND
Poetry is to poets a fantasy world,
You can say the truth or be absurd,
You can travel to Venus if you like,
Go by rocket ship or merely hitch hike,
Anything is possible in poetry land,
Fly a kite or play in the sand,
Go back and meet Henry The Eighth
Forget been inspired by Godly faith.
Follow Alice in wonderland, her path
And deal with her dream in a bubble bath!
Meet Joan of Arc and, sadly watch her die,
As she is pronounced a heretic, everything a lie.
But then of course why not meet Shakespeare,
And Anne Hathaway and his King Lear
Walk round their garden, really not absurd,
Did that many years ago, in an English rose world!
Did anyone see or meet Elvis Presley,
A unique singer, began rock and roll expressly,
But this is a roller coaster ride and the centuries
Go up high and they come rolling back down,
Each one brings fond ,sad or delightful memories.
We can even go back as far as Moses
Receiving the ten commandments, God chose us
Do we all abide by them , hope so, for at our end
We must not for the left turn, tend!
This is a poem of mystique and fantasy,
So why not invite Ghandi and Mandela.
For Black lives count,
Making sure protests are peaceful,
And numbers substantially mount!
Let us return to the stars, the moon
And the sun, the planets, the milky way
Perhaps not a hitchhike but a hot air balloon,
Take with you for fun a cartoon character of note,
Or Emmeline Pankhurst, she initiated woman’s vote.
Plant a beautiful garden out in space,
Be the first to do so from the human race,
Remember we cannot be barred
In our poetic imagination, which is avant guarde,
Join me, please register on line,
I promise you a journey that will more than be fine!
Expressly of my hopes and dreams, the passion in my heart
These words I now declare to you, a token for my part
I’m saving all my kisses up, just one dream to fill
Soon I will deliver them on Singletary Hill
One day I will marry you under a pecan tree
Linda Loraine I promise you, fate will set us free
All to your very own, please have me if you will
Forever in your loving nest on Singletary Hill
And if I have my way, we’ll never cry again
But loving tears of joy will guide us now and then
You’ll never have to spend, much less beyond your will
One single solitary day on Singletary Hill
[Continued from Part Two]
The elder took no notice of risking life and limb.
Hither, thither ran the children, glancing up at him,
while indulging mindlessly in each impulsive whim,
with no apprehension of the future looking grim.
Their chances for salvation seemed increasingly slim…
That aged man’s deep compassion filled him to the brim.
The father knew the children liked any strange device,
exotic playthings, trinkets, whatever would entice.
He needed now to improvise a mode, in a trice,
that could capture their attention— something to suffice
to hold their young imaginations— to be precise,
a mechanism marvelous, no matter the price.
He had stores of immeasurable wealth, beyond doubt,
and his warmhearted love was impartially devout.
Just then the elder had the thought that not in the least
would his limitless riches and reserves be decreased,
even if to a kingdom vast he were to dispense
his overflowing fortune… so why shouldn’t he hence
give out his wealth directly to his progeny all,
before the children’s catastrophic deaths should befall?
The aged man reflected on what tactic to pick—
an expedient means that was sure to do the trick.
He told the children of exquisite toys he possessed
along with lots of precious carts of the very best
craftsmanship and quality, that all had been designed
expressly with the youngsters’ own enjoyment in mind.
The elder next, in order to persuade them, stated
that right outside the house at the entrance awaited,
to suit the young ones’ fancies skillfully created
goat, sheep, deer, and ox carts, ornately decorated.
He said that they must rush to leave the mansion, in haste,
and he’d give them everything— there was no time to waste.
Then the children finally fulfilled his desire
and scurried in a race safely out of the fire.
The father beamed with bliss that the urgency had passed.
They had securely left the burning building at last!
When they’d exited and scampered out, they all sat down
on the dewy earth and asked their father, with a frown,
where the toys and carts were that the elder had portrayed
for their own special likings to have been tailor-made.
The youngsters had escaped and the elder’s heart was eased.
But now each one of their capricious wants must be pleased.
[Continued in Part Four]
~ Harley White
Some feel that Bible verse conclusively
Describes all life explained through liturgy.
Some feel that evolution holds the key
With science leading forth explicitly.
Positions juxtaposed perceptibly:
A purist view of Life's conformaties -
A prescient view of Life's complexities -
Could one more view assuage disparities?
What do papyrus texts in fact convey?
And, what does nature's yield expressly say?
Somewhere between these two compelling sides
The letter and the spirit both reside.
We take from texts enough to salve our minds,
And then from nature context-laden signs,
With each constrained by factors of its lot.
Questions for both - what is and what is not?
Yet, could these sides assemble what should be -
A pair of constancies through which we see
Two halves converging as to form the whole
Reach toward a common line that's not a goal?
This dictum for another day, but now
Enough for both conjointly to endow
A symbiotic sense of harmony
And hope - if our thoughts are inclined to be.
~WOUNDED~
Please forgive me...
Sometimes th' hardships of life,devour Th' Lamb within
Strife n' cares of this world,often render me carnal
Pain and past failures,exhume hideous expressions of hate
Animosity it seems,pacifieth these insurrections too surely
Pardons are non~existant,in these upheavals of melancholy
The abandonings of my love,leaves my soul segregatious
Reckoning runs rampant,for seek of repression's remedy
For an cure for this curse,I long for th' day's dawning
My friends and lovers of fair,I beg your patience for my burdening
In th' finest moment in time,I hope we share bluest skies
For all hearts' desires granted,I would lay myself to rest
Even ones who loathe me,I would not allow their seclusion
If my truest of spirit and flesh,attain symmetry harmon'd...
You will see expressly how precious,you are to my delight'ng
But so many wounds exist,of battles long 'fore fought...
It is of a truth I am,from them all...dying
~AZAZA~'09
The night I sat at the bedside of a dear friend's dying sister,
A poem was conceived in my heart and mind, unlike anything
that I had ever experienced. Words of inspiration were being
formed inside of me in the form of words coming from the heart
and lips of a dying one. Becoming one of my first poems, it was
expressly written in the 'first person' of my friend's sister as if
she was speaking, putting the words within me.
Secondly, the day I realized I would be sending 'writings' to my
pastor, I knew that it was an assignment from God and informed
him accordingly. This was another 'God Moment', a divine encounter
triggered and activated more than 15 years ago. Since initiating the
writings sent to him, I have posted on a poetry website nearly 2000
pieces of work.
Although prior to those two divine encounters, I had desired to write,
never had I been so compelled and pushed to act upon what I had
dreamed of doing for years. There was an urgency like none I had prior,
and it was as if 'I had to begin' and begin 'NOW!'.
080822PSCtest, The Epiphany That Changed Your Life Forever,
Chantelle Anne Cook
The storm wages on within the dark sky
Dark grey clouds have erupted there within
Rain does spurt downward nailing the soft ground
Damaging that of nature and my skin
It’s hard to see ahead to that old house
With just a single dim light on upstairs
To frighten those onlookers in the dark
Evil seems to ooze out of the yard lairs
Lightning strikes illuminating the yard
I see only grass there, nothing special
Nothing fearful was expressly shown there
The imagination is quite loyal
I was ashamed that I thought bad was there
It was only a place of happiness
Beauty was here even in the downpour
I stand in the rain, with real stupidness
Always the rain brings interest deep inside
Whether or not it’s near a house that’s strange
Or in a field of grass that looks so fine
I love the rain, the glory on the range
Russell Sivey
~ (~) ~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqTLlHkfSC4&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E7xUZkKd58c
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXJWkB8ODAQ
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If I were to have my way; the welcome of-those
bygone days, then I'd be sure they would know.
My hopes the fairest dreams of all; were all I wanted to
share - the ones held so dear that I couldn't let go of for
anyone - but them.
As plane rides come to mind jet setting daily qualms God's
buried grace the quiet suicides, was all that came of those-days,
and because I have come to find, parachutes are an option-not
only for those that are living... but are expressly offered for the
worn walking alone and weary within themselves already reeling
from their regrets -
and so it is I believe God being the catalyst for my life, a show-
of His greater eminence and Sovereignty - mercy -
because I too exist myself in a free fall over this valley of the-
dead - and-so it has become for me my own personal, peculiar-
quirk of twisted providence, the evidence of my fate that all
circles are not the same or brand entirely, nor an entity-
within themselves... completely whole - because my-
experience has shown that they too, given
the-proper-vexing, like me -
can be broken... .
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nePSpOlLfYY
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTzDAMf33Jo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1F2zl4LqSlg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDQc6SMNwgY
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