Best Familiarize Poems
Some call it an aphrodisiac.
They say it gives a man a strong back.
Like a good woman, turtle soup makes no sense;
Can something so delicate be so intense?
Like a woman, the flesh has several delightful flavors.
Remember, each mouthwatering sensation should be savored.
When you taste her, bask freely in the sapidity,
Acquire the feel for this pure tortoise delicacy.
Don’t rush, familiarize your taste buds.
There is no such thing as a first sight love.
Recognize, there is a mystique behind that hard shell.
Did someone say turtle soup? That does not ring a bell.
Weave a glittering tapestry
Of wisdom for youths of the world, so they
Resoundingly reject peer pressures that often
Drain their innocence. Words of wisdom would
Spare them the sword of damocles
Teach them as many life lessons as possible
Open their minds to new possibilities
"Live rightly, think rightly and act rightly,"
Is Mahatma Gandhi's philosophy. Familiarize these words of
Value to impressionable minds. Instill in them virtues like
Empathy, tolerance, patience and fairness
Bless them with the belief that the seed of dreams
Yield fresh fruits for years to come.
BRIAN'S CHOICE 8, Any Form, Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: Honorable mention)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date: 05/10/2020
Date written and posted: 4/8/2016
Taking a course of being a secretary
Typewriter on the table is ready
My hands are aching to hit the letters
Speed depends on the movements of my fingers
A basic instrument of communication
You have to familiarize with the hands-on
Busy hands needs to type as many words
It’s like having a competition with swords
Manual way of making documents for you and for me
You have to be sure to type the words and letters correctly
Bond papers, liquid erasers, and a heavy type writer
The complete set to accomplish the mission as typist
Typewriters will be remembered as the years go by
Modern computers will not beat its quality even if I buy
April 25, 2013
For Craig's Contest "The Typewriter"
Note:
I worked as a secretary in an insurance company before and I used typewriter for making documents, letters, etc. and missed using it for a long time... (^_^)
The journey is infant and the waters are calm
the boat is carried on soft waves as if sailing on a child's palm
as the sounds of peaceful streams sends a newborn to sleep.
The boat makes way as the child slumbers
a fresh mind kept in the oceans trance begins to dream and wonder
resting, unbeknownst as the vessel slips into a mist.
Now the child wakes up as a youth,
opening eyes to a fog of illusions and truth.
Distraught and confused but taking the ship and beginning to stir.
All the obstacles are shrouded in mystery
as the boat stumbles and brings worries and misery,
the youth is lost and is subdued to the sea's leer.
But after spending years in a vapor steaming with obstructions
the youth has begun to familiarize and find way through its restrictions
as a physique that has come of age emerges from the smoke.
Sailing with a new found grip, a mind learned and clear.
A will to bend storms and ripe the glory even out of fear.
Now a fragile conscious ascends into desire that runs amok.
Now with a daring soul to challenge the roaring sea
soaring to the crests with high waves of ambitions released
The pinnacle of the ocean,this new life seeks to reach.
The spirit lived as an unaware stowaway
wandered as a lost sailor
now leads as a captain of ones own ship, whose spirit nothing can breach.
And as the leader scales the known seas,
attaining all the desires one can believe,
satisfaction gleams into a smile but the handles become loose and spirit steep.
As the journey becomes old,
and the waters have finally settled down
as the sounds of peaceful streams sends a worn out captain to sleep.
At dawn all is discreet,
All roads are ready quiet,
All the streets are silent,
Quietness reigns universally.
Birds in the bush are benumbed.
Various sounds transcend the land,
As the light grows, the day wakes up,
The sun will build to sting and stump.
Sparrows are now singing in trees.
Pedestrians are passing to invade the streets.
You see one, two and three cars,
And the noise is building in ears.
Together with the folks’ voice,
The sleeping noise is woken up.
So, quietness becomes bumpy,
But we’ll familiarize and go for life
Poem by Mugisho NT
Coming down my way, I let the leaf fall onto my palm
As little tingles of warmth console my shivers
It lands as the others fall to the ground
Some pass me—others sink around in submission
My fingers gently wrap around the fragile thing
Afraid that the wind may pull it away
As I familiarize with the touch and gaze upon its design,
I begin to realize this treasure is not a leaf at all
Though it had befriended the tree far before the ghosts of seasoned bliss
And now the tree yearns for her again—an obliging host
Yearning for that one little butterfly wing, falling with the leaves
Caught in the warmth of life that soon will freeze
For they had to move on…it was their choice to leave
Just as the butterflies migrated toward the warmth
My friends—my strangers…have gone away
One little butterfly stayed behind
Left alone to face the brink of autumn’s glare
Sorely soothed by the embracing despair
Always different than the rest—beyond compare
One little butterfly stayed on the tree
And one wing fell on me
Though cold, alone, and dead
Together be
Sages and brethren
gather and share
and slowly souls
are bared;
their tempered voices
and quiet eyes
reserved of judgment
with passing smiles,
moments blend
in current trends
opinions wide
and reflections deep;
the concepts
and irregularities
once murky
now clear.
they prioritize
and familiarize
that staunch resolution
of generation net
will remunerate
and illuminate
through the checkpoints
and formal reviews
through the purple curtains
and open stage
nothing tainted
or bitter
left for taste
because its they
who’ll plant the seed,
the captains of commerce
healers and jugglers
the coaches and councilors
negotiators and compromisers
the kings and queens
hustlers and hellcats
(who've all found their way!)
let us tip our hats
and salute them.
We stare just to stare;
Attempting to memorize and familiarize
Saving an image of the face looking back at us into the empty bank within our brain
Imperfection after imperfection
Peering to discover meaning behind it all
The smeared peachy lip gloss and blushed tear-stained cheeks
Remember this moment and do not look away just yet
Bubbles of wonderment burst unexpectedly
What does the future cradle in its prospects that the present failed to bring to life?
Look within to resurrect that suppressed bolt of energy and charisma buried deep inside
Mirrors hold the answers in the disguise of perfect smiling faces
Break through.
Stare just to stare
First I'd grasp your virgin nape
And pull you in for a passionate union
Like fine silk, your hair will flow through my fingertips.
Soon finding their way south,
Removing everything in their way.
Skin so smooth it's frictionless,
My fingers would glide effortlessly across the contours of your body.
The excitement surges through us the closer we get;
Increasing our heartbeats to a low drone,
Making our steady hands clumsily shake,
Replacing logic with instinct.
Our lips part with haste,
As if there were no time for anything else.
But as quick as they parted,
my lips found new skin to familiarize; your neck, your collarbone, your chest, your stomach..
Reaching its final stop deferred
Fragrant orifice rosy with jubilation
Meets my lips with a jolt
Which subsides into a purr
A slight trill in reply to the stroke of my tongue
The urges amplify with every touch
Sending echoes of desire and pleasure
In a state of hysteria
Our bodies loose all control
need and want become one
And so do we
By Nicholas A. Bello
Rumination.
Too long an elongation
Oblivion
Too easy a high five to see in freedom, in scope of Pentagon
The eternal fire, chest of drawer and homeland security
Almost a climax toward Bermuda triangle
A selfless supplication in the third act
Without writing how will you find meaning too , through abstraction?
I am an assonance
To odd a pain
In revision of torn pages
To forecast pills of nine
Will there be any benign?
To tell a tale , to cast a forecast
Gaze, maze, in audacity of courage
I love you, your heart beats in mine
I rub you, I feel your overcoat, the woolen layers
And I tell you, softly
Upper supper, look me in to the eyes
Familiarize a face
You have to give a speech
For a lost butterfly
On the twenty first floor
Of the tower.
“Did you say tailgating?” The question came
I replied, to do rely, almost a reply’s try,
A point of no return, I love you in supreme time
But how will I describe my rumination?
In odds of your twenty years
And ninth of mine?
April 21, 2023
Control me with your smiles,
Small and discreet to broad and bold,
Each one melts me...
As I mold myself back together,
With thoughts of us,
You show me a smile of encouragement,
Building ego and confidence,
Until I am overflowing with such,
You grin with sarcasm,
And with the lift of your cheeks,
You bring me back down,
I wasn't ready for the vulnerability,
But I embrace the sweet pain,
Slowly I familiarize each smile,
Recognizing the joy from the pain,
Or so I assume,
With control you seize me,
Taking advantage of my weakness,
Your smile...
Slaving me, rather than appreciating,
But as men do I adapt,
Love struck before, I sell you the best dream,
From the happiest nightmare,
And you and me,
Turns to me and you,
And all I can do is smile.
If you travel to Mumbai or New Delhi,
there is one thing to show them you are friendly.
If you are planning to stay there a month or a few days,
familiarize yourself with the all-important phrase.
When you greet the natives, all you have to say
is the simple and pleasant word “namaste”.
We meet strangers in open
or closed spaces,
and somehow our hearts
familiarize with each other,
right before we know each other's
hobbies, names, parents, fetishes....
Our hearts conspire against us;
they hide a secret - a fact that they
know after much kissing under the moonlight;
cuddling in movie theatres;
playing peek-a-boo under the sheets....
we'll be hurt sooner or later
with suspicious night calls, phone passwords,
unfamiliar scents, lipstick on a shirt.....all
tell-signs of affairs.
Dear budding poet,
Modern poetry is an evolutionary process. A poet never really stops growing and learning. Even the most seasoned of poets can discover and master new forms. I wish you a happy journey to poetic creativity. My advice is to read poetry voraciously and listen to poetry recitals.
Read poems by famous poets. Join a group such as www.Poetrysoup.com and study definitions of poetry forms. You'll soon familiarize yourself with many brilliant Poetrysoup poets, poetry terminology, rhyme schemes, meters, etc. You'll also see examples of all the poetry forms.
Poetry is a malleable art form. It can be formless, like water. Like wet clay, you can mold or shape a poem however you desire. The sky is the limit in terms of your subject matter. I strongly suggest going out in nature for a wealth of inspiration. Try writing a poem outdoors.
Poetic inspiration is likely to materialize as you're much more alert and aware of your surroundings. Enter Poetrysoup poetry contests, which will further fuel your inspiration to write more. Positive, encouraging feedback from supportive poets also keeps your creative juices flowing.
Always carry a pen and notebook with you and jot down the moments or things that captivate you. Ideas. Epiphanies. Funny moments. Happy moments. Sad moments. It's an abundance of riches in terms of themes to broach. You can pen a poem about anything. Use your power of observation and let your imagination take flight.
To use lines from my poem, "What Poetry Means To Me," "Poetry is my catharsis, passion, escape. The golden spoon which I use to stir souls. Poetry means sharing my gift of creativity to inspire, purge, reveal, to weave a tapestry of deeply felt emotions."
My favorite themes are nature, emotions, animals, and astronomy. My favorite reference sources are as follows: Poetrysoup, Merriam-Webster's Dictionary, Rhymezome, HowManySyllables, and WordHippo.
(Prose)
Sometimes I would want for him to open up to me…Instead of assuming what goes on in his mind I would want him to just tell me.
He’s like a bundled package… taped up so tight that I can’t tear it open…
A novel… so heavily constructed from the first chapter, to the last, all the way down to the Author’s notes.. that I’m just unable to comprehend with it’s scathed story line and unclear motives…
A song composed up of so many notes, melodies, and unfamiliar stanzas so complex for a beginner like me that no matter how much I practice… I can’t play it.
For one night, just one lonely night… I may have gotten a peek through his eyes… for if only a small moment in time; and maybe a few petals every now and then that tend to fall briskly towards my lingering fingers, just waiting.. if they’re lucky enough… to capture the small petal just to familiarize the silky texture in my skin before its crisp transition between my roughly nimble fingers…