Best Faulted Poems
Cunning seducer
Your presence beguiles
I taste your fever
My body complies
Good intentions die
Dare not touch me
For I shall fall
Where angels fly
And hell is nigh
Oh to taste
Faulted grace
Tempt me not
Too late
My fate
Flawed
Categories:
faulted, angst, passion,
Form:
Diminished Hexaverse
Mother Nature, Athena and Mother Earth
Apply wisdom and beauty to life
they're icons whose bounty has infinite worth
offering sustenance throughout strife
Mother Mary grants us mercy and love
Our flag; long may she wave
Venus, the love god, shines above
Amazon women; so strong and brave
Accolades for such women never cease
Their value cannot be denied
Noble women of love, courage and peace
who we admire and in whom we confide
But women who aren't symbols, myths or gods
are never so grandly exalted
they may have value no one ever lauds
But for our original sin are faulted
This tribute is to women, here on earth
Thank you for your guidance and love
And for providing the gift of birth
Categories:
faulted, appreciation, women,
Form:
Ode
Indistinct, they circumnavigate in the raw ~
they’re thoughts unprocessed and unpolished
ethereal and feral, nothing more than impulses really
If it were up to me, I might drown in that sea of ambiguity
and forego all communication with the outside world
forever content staying confined to my private universe
In most instances I couldn’t be bothered
yet at times I’d almost want to scream to be heard
that’s when I’d want to be as loud and clear as I could be
But sometimes the words refuse to form
at times so deep they must be mined
and surface in their own time that can’t be rushed
So I write because it allows me to think at my own pace
I can capture what I feel, what I remember
I can seize it and can verbalize it
I write for different reasons
I write because most people
never ask what’s on my mind when the time’s right
or won’t wait for me to put my thoughts to words
I write because I want to say it right
I want to choose my words
not be misquoted
Mostly I write to capture time
time as a memory, time as a treasure
time as tangible, time as a toy to amuse
Mostly I write to be heard
I write so I can say I’ve done my part
I’ve said my bit and can’t be faulted for staying quiet
I write so I won’t die
without a voice, without saying my piece
without having said all I had to say
AP: 1st place 2022
Posted on September 2, 2022
Categories:
faulted, introspection, voice, words, writing,
Form:
Free verse
How does your mind and soul blossom thru life?
It begins in childhood with churches and schools.
Thru your adolescence it’s tinged with strife,
But all of these are the greatest of tools.
Circumstances dictate how you will be raised,
How other people’s words will color you.
Parents may be faulted or may be praised,
But as you grow you will form your own view.
When, as you mature, and wisdom arrives,
It’s clear your words, either written or said,
May live on to influence, mold others’ lives,
And thru their poems, and yours, you’ll be led.
Write your words wisely for others to see
As you share your life through poetry!
Categories:
faulted, inspiration, life, poetry,
Form:
Sonnet
In the midst of a forty-five degree silicate sea
Winds carry arid mists
Blinding unprotected eyes
Burying the unsuspecting
Hard waves break on the dunes
Precipitating salty tears with cruel irony
Feet, firmly rooted
Skin, steadfast in the unrelenting midday sun
Arms, outstretched
Right hand, due south
Fingers, arrayed, elements, antennae
Left balances right
Body rotates, slowly
Shoulders
Hips
Balls of the feet
Right arm sweeps the compass
Eyes, closed in concentration
West; sparks of latent inspiration
Arc from distant faulted subduction,
Eyes, open in anticipation
Convected curtains corrupt the clear air
Shimmering over a non-existent lake
Mirrored mirage
Making me shiver despite the oppressive atmosphere
Blurred images come and go
Through the poorly receptive ether
Shapes raising spirits
Smudges dashing them
Despairing grey
Mysterious black
Optimistic white
Bleached and burned
A rainbow away from the memory of hope
Monochrome dreams distilled from coalesced emotions
Abstraction dissolves to substantion
Pulse becomes sway
Refracted gamut of grey
Washes pastels over a hazy outline
Flowing cotton dress
Desire
Copper hair
Passion
Dark bright eyes
Ardour
Heart and soul on fire
Flames of wishing, wanting, needing
Lick the air in every direction
Which way to run?
There is no choice
Always towards
Always the agonizing experience
Of illusion
Not this time...
I plead
Categories:
faulted, love
Form:
Free verse
Athena
the dutiful daughter standing behind her father
in lightning thick with aegis assurance
read to protect her family
and counselling them times of need
Athena, the grey eyed goddess
who watches carefully with graceful wisdom
coercing ignorance into obliteration
solutions fly into her hands
for her to dispense and she desires
Athena of the City
philosophizing with the common man
trading amongst mortals
companion to heroes in distress
strategic with the broken soldier
Athena the virginal queen
modesty made attractive
purity prioritized in beauty
who ran through rape's smitten fires
with the strength of civilization in her hands
Yet even you, Pallas Athena,
illustrious among even immortals,
are not without your faults
Even you fear death's decay
dragging your name into Lethe's depths
You weave with Fate's spindles in faulted pride
as your equals fall beneath your altar
spinning spiders slaving in cinders
and gorgons grazing beneath your Parthenon
made golden by their angered gaze
Are you not jealous as well as just?
Is not your immorality made irrelevant
in the light of your immorality?
One does begin to wonder
If your wisdom is mere intelligence
Your knowledge mere luck covered stupidity
Your duty and honor merely a fear
To be seen as a vulnerable beauty
Your prized purity mere pride
Your longevity simply a lie
Perhaps all the exists of you
Is a memory wasted with the false belief
That your good outweighs your transgressions
Categories:
faulted, allegory, philosophy,
Form:
Ode
pressure bust pipes
stress can burst a blood vessel
chilling is the remedy but life wont let you
young guys think your soft when you decide to wise up
old men looking like your not quite wise enough
I learned long ago that the hood life was not enough
all they want is something in their dutch or their cup
high and drunk while the hour hand is running laps
if you sleep your whole life you wake up to a dirt nap
the family structure is faulted
dads addicted, mom tricking while granny singing take me to the water
these little ones are crazy spraying shots indisriminate
they're the grandchildren of the crack epidemic
the 80s was crazy the 90s was grimey
and the past decade was more like an insane asylum
they follow fools by the flock, while righteous men get mocked
Lord I'm listening in case you tell me to go build an ark
when you hear the growl from the stomach,and feel the pain from the hunger
poverty and crime combine like lightning and thunder
hopelessnes and despair that can break a man quick
have him ready to break all 10 commandments
the youth are heat holding like wolves in sheeps clothing
and all he want is more of what he's smoking
in less than a heartbeat he'll stop your heart beat
then write a song to brag about it over a hot beat
the streets have a cruel set of rules and guidelines
he wanted to be a millionaire but lost his life lines
trust in the wrong one the outcome dissatrious
those fake friends will front in your face and back stabya
disloyalty in your circle can hurt you
plus your enemies are lurking to push the knife in further
where a simple robbery can easily become murder
because their young and their dumb and in love with the sound of a burner
Categories:
faulted, lifelife, crazy, life, me,
Form:
birth, devotion, how i feel, little sister, mirror, mother, together,
Who do you think I am - Poetry Contest
Birthed special as twins
From a shared womb
We were made to feel special!
My twin was first to let go
She broke our love knot
Hurrying to her new freedom!
She waited for me crying
Until I was laid alongside her
In an identical pink warming blanket!
It was my turn to be crying now
Her abandoned cry made silent
Knowing I was with her there!
Inseparables we grew to become as before
Our new home was very 'safe' for two
Twins were to be an indulged oddity then!
So alike and special side by side
We were coveted and blessed
These babies who came from one womb!
We were cherished and adored
Always up in arms side by side
And fed together with spoonfuls of love!
Our sibling sister did follow soon
But shared her blankets alone
She was ‘loved’ for being only one!
We thought her an intruder
She was the star, sun and moon
And selfishly pocket our time-shares!
We needn’t have walked as early as her
We were up 'in arms' for show and tell
And only spoke in our secret tongues!
We were still twins but so spoiled
She walked and talked much earlier
And she was quick to spark on her own!
She learnt survival tools to get on with life
Our security was faulted built out of smoke
Dissipating at its now 'mired' core!
We were on our own and naked
Our identity apart was thin
Time came to us late in hard knocks!
A twin is only birthed as one
Apart and special on its own
Each born to make its own identity!
Twins will be together after death
When their love knot again is twined
And two twinned hands clasp once more!
Categories:
faulted, birth, devotion, how i
Form:
Verse
SO MUCH DEPENDS...(Inspired by The Fault in Our Stars)
So much depends upon the girl with red current meandering from her woman
And the clots of clumped up thoughts that occasionally disturb her flow.
So much depends on the wisdom from her oval shaped head
And the greyish-pink lips
How from her round belly an eruption of ‘woke’ perspectives
Has to leave others with a need to be introspective
“So much depends on this observer of the universe”
Her views hanging from the sides like ovaries
To provide boundaries
So she can never be too sinful, too deceitful, too proud
Too round, dark , round
Sinful;
Deceitful;
Unkind
So much depends on the girl in the African print caftan and a bandana on her short processed hair
Fearful of oblivion
Trembling before disappointment
Stake in back while she too wields one against another
Never too good, never too honest
Her only decency in her merciful lies
Her only fault is being faulted
And that is before she takes a good look in the mirror
So much depends on the girl with short manicured nails with transparent nail polish,
Pecking away at the keyboard while hoping tears will flow
Because all that’s at play within her is too inward
Relentlessly refusing to flow out
So much depends on her sockets to let out tears, the kind that fall naturally and heavily
So much depends on her other half
To explain the sudden outburst of betrayal, what is allegiance?
But she knows not to poke those demons
For they may wake up with renewed zeal
Close a chapter while your hands still work
Goodbye to that song that was the anthem in your special little earth,
Heaven is your only haven
Heaven is your only haven
If only you show your worth.
“So much depends on this observer of the universe.”
Written on 25/12/15 after a very long, beautiful and blessful (poetic licence anyone) day.
Categories:
faulted, how i feel, hurt,
Form:
Bio
-I have a dilapidate imagination,
-My mental improprieties describe my intense self-incrimination.
-The accused are my thoughts and mind.
-The truly faulted is my behavior, unrefined.
-I am undefined.
-Because my self-interpretations are blind.
-There is no way to explain nor describe who, what, or when I may or may not be.
-For all anyone knows, I'm the branches of a sweet pudding pine tree.
-And so you're aware of it,
-I feel I must declare it,
-That I simply cannot bare it,
-When I hear the letter p, I must stare at it.
-And get the urge just to say,
-"Punctual porcupines peruse, penalize, and pester preposterously perfunctory parrots,"
-However, saying it aloud, I wouldn't dare it.
-But I kind of just did, contradicting, deserving of merits.
-Now leap into my thinking box,
-I swear, not another paradox.
-In here, there are no working clocks.
-No need for a watch.
-No need for anything of any kind,
-I am a prisoner of my own mind.
-Occasionally going to conjugal visits with myself.
-Me, her, and I really need help.
-Twisted mental health,
-Manically creating my own intellectual wealth.
-Check out my nerdy ninja stealth
-Sounds like "Laughter, yip-yap, squeak, and yelp,"
-Now, I can waste much more time.
-I seem plentiful in rhyme.
-However, you asked for a self portrait, so that topic I will try to pursue.
-But I don't really know what or who to introduce, do you?
Categories:
faulted, anxiety, art, emotions, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
There’s a Child in every Woman that emerges now and then
Together they reverse Time from Now to Way Back When
The Child and Woman search for the Child’s place in Time
When the Child not yet a Woman lived a life that didn’t rhyme
Childhood barely started, cruelly faulted, abruptly halted
Childhood denied, deprived and criminally assaulted.
A lonely, battered Child, isolated in her fears
Crying only inner tears during those long and joyless years
The Child’s life fragmented and became emotionally forlorn
Influencing the Woman as she was later being formed.
Time heals all wounds it is written and said
But memories are forever despite what’s heard or read
Painful memories surface without reason or design
Like road signs in reverse as the Child’s life unwinds
Memories take root as the Child takes on grime
A Child abused and stained
An Innocent, cruelly used and shamed.
The Child (now Woman) affirm each other’s core
Bringing healing closer to forever, seeking forevermore
Can a life so tainted, incinerated and deprived
Rise from the ashes to acquire the value to revive?
First Child, then Woman were determined to survive
Forgiveness shared the path they tread to keep themselves alive
Life shouldn’t focus on evil, they learned, or on whom to blame
Life isn’t to squander as if playing a meaningless game
Do not feel pity for that Child or the Woman she became
Celebrate instead their survival as they celebrate the same.
Categories:
faulted, recovery from...child, life, woman,
Form:
Rhyme
Winding up a clock of insanity
jealous men of state,
a beguiling intrusion of vulgarity
witness their own self sealing fate.
Splendor drives a faulted agenda
decades can be encased in spite,
for fear of the next great contender
Society Generale, lost in its self loathing flight.
Unconsciously minded of hate and rape
intelligence truly lost on the masses.
Parity is left to desolate
by a so called regal classes.
Truth determines the rise and falls.
Flashes of indulgences exist,
from behind the cursed blinding walls
a mindset continues to resist.
Categories:
faulted, politicallost, self, lost, self,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
This might not be a pleasant flow of appropriate language
A somewhat complicated and abstruse diction
Maybe, a puerile illusion…
You think so?
Imagine and picture that clearly
Because if in our quest to achieve greatness and becoming self actualized
With an acute sensibility coupled with quickness of intellect
Adhering to forms and modes
Like an admirable mastery of technique
Then we rise and fall, most times, kick the bucket
Know it that the truth was sold and not told
Many of us want to go home
To see the smiles of our lovely mothers and hope in our fathers eyes
Share our joys and pains with siblings at home
But it seem almost impossible when the environment is too rigid, killing us all
We are exploited, underrated, neglected and marginalized
Daily, we lack money, food, guide, formal education and the dividends of true democracy
Hard to remove – toxins of hard drugs and frustrations in our heart’s arteries
Chiefly speaking to our minds
And that’s what we have been listening to
A voice as soft as cotton and soothingly amazing
Already, we have faulted religions and politics
None got the true ethics and codes to a fulfilled life
That was yesterday
Today, the politicians are speaking through the media
With their promises of white elephants
Hoping we rise and vote during election
While they will later ignore and abandon us
And that will be during job appointments, employments and selections
We meant nothing to them initially.
A Stewart Annie Everestus's poem © 2019
Categories:
faulted, africa, depression, discrimination, fate,
Form:
Free verse
the blog wars
hiding beneath and behind
the tufted heads of the nine tailed cats
awaiting the unsuspected entry
of inane innocence at large
devious despoilers – these demons
perfections faulted protectors
exacting a price they cannot pay
holding an ideal as a weapon
denying the truth of a single beauty
because it stands among so many
mocking the buds of beauty’s quest
as inept imposters to the throne
sticking the thorns of jealous roses
into the hearts of blooming daisies
hiding in the bulrushes of ego’s
self inflating fallacy
yet still intruders crash the gates
bold interlopers plodding onward
toiling in the trenches of a dream
unfazed by guardians failing scheme
John G. Lawless
10/12/2015
submitted to – Best October Poem – Poetry Contest
sponsor – SKAT A
Categories:
faulted, poetry, writing,
Form:
Verse
Cautious adjudication, the gravitas of soft-spoken word.
Your legendary legacy, illustrious and exalted.
Advocate for gender justice, legal insights not always heard.
Yet, your jurisprudence was seldom persuasively faulted.
Few men invite state regulation of their sex organs.
Yet, many insist the state can control a woman’s body.
You, the bulwark against unconstitutional legal actions,
against state laws of men, pious and haughty.
Now you have departed, and we gaze upon the cavity.
Now we dread what might be used to fill the void.
The precedents of your life, our guidance against depravity.
Your advocacy for equality must be our natural law employed.
Categories:
faulted, abortion, america, eulogy, farewell,
Form:
Elegy