Best Extraordinarily Poems
A dead star that inspired this poem--the companion of the star 55 Cancri, in the constellation of Cancer the Crab--has now shrunk to only about twice the size of earth yet is extraordinarily massive, leading astronomers to conclude that its surface and outer crust consist entirely of diamond.
In slumber now and thence to dream
of space-time’s stirred and curving sweep,
where stellar furies set agleam
the velvet thrall of endless deep.
Here among a billion suns,
solo Klieg cued nascent spark.
Ensuing life o'er an eon runs
ere treading path of torpid dark.
Adorned in crystal, its bequest—
fusion’s fire did else abate—
bejeweled then, this orb compressed,
now fields of diamonds lie and wait.
Yet perish need to search the endless skies—
diamonds sparkle here in lovely eyes.
It was meant as a lark -
walking with him that day in the park.
He was the boy who used to live next door
back in town revisiting his days of boyhood lore.
Kind of cute he’d been back then in a nerdy way -
that boy with whom as a child I always liked to play.
As we walked, I noticed how tall he’d grown
and his eyes so blue like the sky in which the sun now shone.
We strolled on over to the park’s small pond.
Of feeding ducks both of us always had been fond.
A gentle breeze wafted to us the fragrance of flowers.
We nearly skipped to the garden where we sat for two hours
chatting, laughing, reminiscing about
summer fun when we were young -
when I’d played volleyball far better than he.
But today his arms were brawny.
I bet at any sport he could now beat me.
Sun was surrendering its place in the sky
as we watched families and couples strolling by.
I felt the sparks of something that was kin
to the streaks of orange that heaven was painted in.
As we stood to leave, he boldly took hold of my hand.
We heard in the distance the playing of an oldies band.
As we walked to where old tunes filled the air,
It felt so right, so romantic and so rare.
My heart was throbbing as his fingers twined with mine.
I was feeling things that only the word delicious could define!
In the sky no longer was there a single cloud
as he twirled me in darkening twilight away from the crowd.
I looked up to see the young man gazing at me.
How did I never before this day see
how radiant his smile was.
Twinkling stars appeared. We were lost in a magical pause . . .
Beneath an old willow tree out of anyone’s sight,
our lips came together on that enchanting night.
Our day had begun as a lark in the park.
But what it ended up as was the beginning of so much more
than I had ever known before -
So extraordinarily sweet . . . a kiss in the dark.
My Mother is way long gone....
But I wish I could hug her and sing her a song.
As her birthday this year is on Mother's Day.
And we cannot blow out the candles this May!
I have written about Irene before.
A most fitting name for a woman who wanted peace
forevermore.
She lives is God's golden city,
And, knowing her, making it extraordinarily pretty.
Have a room ready for me, Mom, when I come home.
So that on the stars and Milky Way, we shall forever roam.
Your daughter...Panagiota
May 10, 2020
2pm PST
"That Place"
In that place where you were abandoned,
that place, they never thought, you’d come back from,
in that place where it is believed nothing grows
in the long night’s tortured darkness, deep down, well,
a spark lit something quite quiet, far removed and forgotten,
and now it grows rapidly, coiling inside,
snaking sharp-edged like mother’s tongue root
it transmits something alive, something like love,
its veins drawing back in again a loquacious life,
the moisture from tears, a necessary nourishment
from the lake of disbelief, betrayal, trauma and grief,
a bless'ed blooming in disguise,
the succulent luscious life those all important tears gift;
what spreads from the darkness and its erratic reach,
calling into it all embers of ethereal light? Now ultra-lit,
some revolutionary reincarnation arrives back from the dead,
it soaks the unseen light up greedily, for it is extraordinarily hungry,
to taste if but just a drop of sunshine in the glory of forever and ever,
this is what it dreams when it sleeps;
after the amen, hibernation,
it grows and it spreads robust, rigorous (not necessarily), yet,
like a beautiful irregular disease, there is no turning back
once the light kisses it and it has a taste for life,
it goes looking for some kinder heaven;
yes, this is accurate, I do believe -
from nothing something blooms
from nothing, the arrival, awake,
life lessons learned,
what is poor, and what is rich,
what is true and untrue
Candide Diderot. '24
The unicorn horse,
With a horn on its head,
Is just a mythical animal
who runs in the forest,
The unicorn myth,
shall always live on.
A legendary horse,
next to legendary man.
But through times of greatness,
the myth lives on.
While grazing the grasses.
and roaming the lands.
The unicorn's exsistence,
extraordinarily lives on.
A shimmer of hope,
he has brought to the masses.
a symbol of purity and grace,
throughout the Middle Ages,
The Renaissance horse
has written the pages.
The Unicorn's horn,
was used for defenses,
The Unicorn's legs
could jump many fences,
Across the lands,
and down to the sea.
The Unicorn's exsistence,
was as rare as can be.
Strong as an Ox,
he could never be captured.
By the grasp of the virgin,
the horse could not flee.
The Virgin Mary herself,
would not let the horse free..
Unicorn Poetry by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2014.All Rights Reserved.
“E.R.I.C. Is”
by: Eric L. Boddie
It is important
That the mind possess agility
And because of that
Eric is the exceptionally rare intellectual capability
For those who will challenge
Without the use of common sense
They need to understand
Eric is the extremely reactive intense consequence
To those who keep their Faith
Where God intended for it to be kept
Which, by the way, has never been in man
Eric is an extraordinarily realized immortal concept
For those who try to tempt
In an effort to press the buttons of the controller
Through their greatest efforts
Eric is enabled to reach infinite composure
To those who think
So as not to one day resent
Because most pain and stress can be avoided
Eric is especially rich in insightful content
For those who love
Because God gave it with respect
Through the realms of poetry
Eric is empowered to reveal inspired context
To those living in disgust
On today’s society’s view of life
Because of an increasing lack of love
Eric is the eager request to involve Christ
And saving the best for last
Because that’s how God did the greatest creation
For each eligible lady
Eric is the enjoyable relaxation of intimate conversation
"Lynette"
See the Divine -
her feathers
shimmering,
she's close
but hidden
within
the Seraphim
wings
her imprint
invisible yet
all enveloping
quietly
wrapped around you
extraordinarily
she is glistening
her golden words
within you
there
she watches you,
she's your HOME
She's always there
your protection,
you think she left long ago
she walks beside you
in your dreams
there she smiles
her mind in yours
blood never
closes her doors
she is royal
sealed
she never left you
she is real
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Meaning: Adj: Extraordinarily good; wonderful
(S)oaring on the wings of love
(U)nder starlit skies spread above
(P)arachuting with joy in hand
(E)manating across the beautiful land
(R)esting together peacefully side by side
(C)asting smiles far and wide
(A)fter the sun sets, swirled colors to see
(L)ight of the stars lead the way with glee
(I)magine the best is waiting ahead
(F)or dreams to prepare before going to bed
(R)apture is met as the morning wakes
(A)ll rested and calm as mountains and lakes
(G)lorious views are endless to see
(I)nviting, to be shared in love with thee
(L)iving to the fullest, with the rush of waterfalls
(I)llustrating the flow of words the heart calls
(S)ensational stories to hold and to tell
(T)ransformed from wishes tossed in a well
(I)gniting pleasures from the body and mind
(C)reating special places that no-one can find
(E)xciting to share with understanding between
(X)eric desert beauty there is to be seen
(P)icturesque, singular, rare moments so rare
(I)rredescent feelings emerge from everywhere
(A)ll the material things that are around
(L)essen with meaning hearing a simple sound
(I)n quiet space all that is needed is found
(D)ynamic words with music, looking into the eyes
(O)f a loved one standing there with a surprise
(C)oming to you with vows with an open heart
(I)magine this is true and it is only a start
(O)f an adventure that will never end or unravel
(U)nder the skies in the land of life’s travel
(S)weet love’s conviction with the fall of a gavel
Heidi Sands
5/14/17
sigh ...
there is no shortage
of gloom and doom these days
we are in the midst of something unseen in our time
and the fear and hysteria is palpable
that said, I'm not taking the blue pill ... no way
reality is important, as are fear and caution
those darker things keep us safe
they temper our decisions and guide our courses
still, choice comes down to line-of-site ...
every time I say or do or affect anything
remotely encouraging or positive or optimistic ...
a thick, cold, wet blanket is thrown
the "reality", I am told ...
here's the thing -
I've been in pharmacy and
medicine and science my whole life
and from the beginning of this viral monster
I've been extraordinarily aware of the "reality" of this rabbit hole
odds, numbers, percentages, statistics
trials, results, vaccines, treatments
sobering, to say the least
but HOPE is a reality as well, just as sobering
and while these aged-but-wise
lungs of mine can still push gases
I'll choose to take the hopeful, encouraging, OPTIMISTIC tack
bring on the darkness and gloom
I have been to hell and back a number of times
I know the darkness well
and therein shine the most glorious of suns
oh, I absorb and process and consider all the dark
and cold and discouraging elements of this horrible pandemic
(anyone would be foolish NOT to know the weight of this disease
or understand the deadly seriousness
of all that comes with it)
but sunlight can peep through a wee hole
and it is THOSE rays that will always draw my gaze
life IS hope, from where I sit
and as long as I can type -
as long as I embrace this gift of mine for crafting words
I'll consider it my duty to use that tool
at least in some part
for the promotion of all things shiny
bright, optimistic, encouraging
happy, joyous, hopeful, halcyon, uplifting
heartening, upbeat, inspiring
and absurdly sunny
call me delusional - I've been called MUCH worse
it won't bother me ... much, lol
but ...
this is no fantasy land or careless dream I'm living in
it's simply the brighter reality
that I CHOOSE to see ...
the more hopeful future
I choose to anticipate.
I dreamed a bird-of paradise arose one starry night.
Beautifully plumed, it floated in mystical moon-light.
I drifted along with it, as delicate as fine lace,
extraordinarily content, unconstrained and graceful.
There goes my hero, he’s ordinary,
like in the Foo Fighters song
Carries no airs or graces,
makes me feel like I belong
A family member perhaps,
even a workmate, or friend
Someone who can be trusted,
on whom I tacitly depend
There goes my hero,
out in the rain mending a fence
Standing at the back of photos
not overpowering the lens
Cleaning blocked up drains,
unafraid to pick out nits
Struggles in the charts for decades,
without any major hits
There goes my hero, she’s loving,
rears her dead sisters child
Puts the kid through college,
works nightshifts and smiles
Seeks nothing in return,
a little thank you will suffice
Salt of the earth person
that only gives solid advice
There go my heroes,
all extraordinarily mundane
Not looking for recognition
having no time to complain
I’m certainly not one of them,
comfortable on my own ground
Real heroes have stamina,
going forward round after round
Could be my hero’s Cobain
who blew out his brains
Cared damn all for money
and even less about fame
To Honor My Hero Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
07/31/22
droll
slap you with a word
then, cross arms and wait
that's how she'd get you ... Grace Cleaves
out-of-the-blue idiosyncrasies that she'd notice in you
laid quite flatly in your lap
for you to comment on ... or not
all conversations started thusly
for she'd make all her determinations
(ie your character and humor)
from that initial punch-to-the-gut
brilliant, yet what most people despised about her
and what sent them fuming ... she, no worse for the wear
a sly grin and a wink to her dead husband
"We've lost another one, Hubert!"
I ... ADORED her for it, and it came to be something I depended on
she was brilliant, you see ... extraordinarily so
but few people tolerated her long enough to discover it
that was her point ... and MY gift
a gift I will always ache for.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "The Lady Down The Lane" Poetry Contest
Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.
Amberfest Ambiance
Ah, the orange-gold, I behold in things,
Such as the amber, in my wedding ring.
Invitation to a classic, zesty brunch.
Heart-pounding for this splendiferous lunch.
Let's begin shall we, with aromatic toast,
Slathered with orange jam and golden,
Hawaiin honey.(Tis the most)
Gratefully, we do have enough money,
To eat oudoors, and the Pacific Coast is a honey.
Oh, my eager taste buds start to roast!
Eggs Benedict with perfect golden orbs!
Having breakfast on the azure Pacific Shore.
How could I ask, for anything more?
The scent of fresh California orange juice,
In an amber goblet, ah, turn it loose!
This is my divine amberfest breakfast.
Divinity~full of color and golden pizazz!.
So very blessed and extraordinarily, first class!
1/27/2024
Bathing in rainbow bubbles of gratitude,
To be alive and be able to write beyond platitudes.
Oh, a popular poet, assuredly, I shall never be!
Just so thankful, God created and extraordinarily, blessed me!
I know poets here experience this, too.
The joy of being alive and prayers~ they humbly do.
My family, friends and Irene, my cat, mean so very much to me.
I think of them often, leaning under my beloved aromatic pine tree.
February 14, 2020
3:45pm PST
Stung with the absence of his father, he excruciatingly rumbled deep inside of his mother’s womb.
He stormed out already filled with disappointing void.
The mother’s joy was of uncertainty.
Memories of her husband, flashed back right in her face once again.
She could feel the exhaustion of a lifetime encircled around her and the weight and magnanimity of raising the beautiful baby on her own.
Two years creeped by and the bond between them was legendary.
The love was so constant and consistent, like the sun will rise.
Their friendship thrived through the encroached stormy desert.
Her wings unfolded like an angel, extraordinarily patient as a lion hunting.
The fondness between them was as phenomenal as THE SERPENT GOD at chichen Itza, that he was unceremoniously detached from her.
A devastation of a 4-5 year old separation to a foreign land, felt like an erupted-never-ending-volcanic-nightmare.
The purpose of that crushing disconnection, was feeble.
he was starved off of food, shelter and raiment.
Apportioned milk from animals became the only privilege given.
The purest and cleanest form of consumed water, was of a residual of donkeys streamed through the shin of an old dirty black slave man.
An occasional feasting on birds, caught through invented-trapping.
With innocence, he’ll apathetically rip the head, feathers of the little creatures with bare hands, bury them in the sand of the mountain top desert, hours later, it’s BEANO.
He was deprived of even just a glimpse of his family for all those years, he wimped in loneliness.
And on a dark frightful night, came the growl of the famous fox, but he survived.
Life is fickle and comes without no warning and can’t be anticipated.
Survival can not be measured by *echoes* of preventions, it is destined and destiny is not always a gift.
The tale unfolds in hardship, a narrative woven through the threads of resilience and survival. The bond between mother and child, tested by separation, echoes the unpredictable journey of life—a journey marked by both strength and vulnerability.