Best Finest Poems
Your own soundtrack
white noise in my ears
in my years
Pictures in scars, maybe a
lightning strike, an
x to mark the spot
anything to take away the
pain the
waiting
Anything to distract from the
Teardrops drizzling down a windowpane and
a deep breath feels like a
pain to your chest your
heart and
I've had enough of those
Flesh wounds to the soul caused by
little boys who whisper
pretty words that sound
sounded
like fulfillment.
Ferris wheels break,
Carousel rides never
last.
a wasted quarter,
Just a wasted quarter of me.
The promise of rain
is a
broken one.
The Finest Antebellum Mansion in the South
By Elton Camp
Windsor was near the banks of the Mississippi River
Extreme luxury, size, beauty and comfort it did deliver
The manor was completed just before the Civil War
It’s builder, Smith Daniell, couldn’t asked for more
Only a few weeks after his palatial home was complete
Its wealthy owner became ill and his own death did meet
His heirs were left a four-story house & a huge plantation
It depended on slave labor that was ruining the nation
Windsor had twenty-five rooms, each with a fireplace
And running water and inside baths the house did grace
A rare feature indeed: that two dumbwaiters were found
From floor-to-floor more easily to move the food around
A ballroom on the fourth floor had an observatory atop
The rigors of a civil war threatened to bring it to a stop
It came to be used by rebs and yanks, so it did survive
And the family who owned it managed to stay alive
The mansion become a social center for the entire state
Invited guests arrived early, partied and the stayed late
But, in 1890 to Windsor the greatest disaster then befell
A guest left a lighted cigar on the balcony and it then fell
After the fire, only the thirty-foot-high columns did stand
And an architectural treasure disappeared from the land
The magnificent ruins remind of the South’s glorious past
And that no civilization built on human suffering can last
If a glimpse into the way planters lived you wish to see,
Go only a few miles from Port Gibson and there it will be
The ruins will remind us of some ancient Grecian temple
But built at the expense of slaves kept uneducated & simple
For pictures of the mansion go to http://www.scribd.com/doc/57710764/The-Finest-
Antebellum-Mansion-in-the-South
The picture of the ruins was taken years ago by the noted
writer Eudora Welty of Jackson, Mississippi. Some of the
English faculty at my college actually knew Eudora and had
studied under her at various workshops.
The Rich:
Our lunch is so tasty and luscious
It’s like in the mission we will see
Hmmm….the air so cold and affectionate
I can finally use my money as well as charm
Crap! My gadgets will indeed save me
Branded clothing will be an impression
That is why; I am the best missionary here
Because I have everything the world
Could ever desire.
The Intellectual:
Yes, to teach is my dearest passion
I’m not like you bird brains
Who are ignorant of knowledge and prestige
I’m the only one who can feed minds
One that thinks and reflects
I will make them understand
The meaning and essence, from Soc to Sartre and beyond
That is why I’m the righteous lad
To be an instrument of God
The Humble:
Just think of the adventures we will encounter
I’m not that rich and smart
But to be with the people is our real task
Not to impress, not to be a cutie, and play with coconut husk
All I want to do is be with God’s people
To serve Him with all my heart
My oblation is everything
This sacrifice is only for Him to offer
Not for man but to the transcendental One
The Adjudicator:
That is all true of what you say
But remember that every minute there may be danger
Snakes, NPA’s, ancient spirits and the current as you walk along the river
Remember, you are all unique in different talents
Use them well to do great things
Be sure that before it gets dark you will find your way
Because the best among you
Just lies beneath the veins.
How precious is the life given for mission?
You will all now become a real servant of the Lord
Doing the same, but in different ways
And let us all rise and pray
Evaporate! Be gone and sleep early
For tomorrow you will get wet and dreary
Finish your food; it may be your last
Godspeed and in Him put all your trust!
Cunning and daring,
Intelligent woodland fox;
Beautiful red coat.
Nathan Bane Leccese
© All Rights Reserved 06/30/09
love's the finest answer of all supreme questions and smile's best reply
In Africa, it’s now obscene,
That epidemic reigns supreme.
Babies born with HIV,
No chance of life like you or me.
No matter how this virus came,
I think that man should bear the shame.
He should be using all his will.
To find a way to cure this ill.
Instead his greed just leads him on,
To rape the land ‘til all is gone.
To thirst for power, at others pain,
Bring ‘hell to earth’ to make their gain.
And non will stop this bloody state,
The ‘civilised nations’, yes they wait,
Until they find that they may lose,
The price of oil or cheaper shoes.
Then they will stand, for all that’s right
In name of God, they’ll take the fight!
And smash the ones with power and might,
To free the people from their plight.
But who’s the winner? I’m not sure,
Why would they really fight this war?
Sure they’ll keep their cheaper shoes,
The cost, the loved ones, that they’d lose.
And still, chaos would reign supreme,
Still, babies die where man has been.
If only we could see the way,
And take our paths a better way.
Through prophets sent from heaven above,
God’s shown mankind the way of love.
Still battles rage, twixt love and power,
I fear hell’s gained it’s finest hour!
Ivor G Davies
I may falter on a few steps,
but my eye is on the goal
My spine is made of solid gold,
my heart is made of stone
My limbs have gone limp with heat,
my body growing heavy
My eyes are bloodshot, filled with tears,
and yet my pace is steady
I remember what I came here for,
it pushes me ahead
My conscience is long gone for now,
the path I leave is dead
My mind quivers at the thought of you,
my vision starts to blur
But the prize I see in the end is: me,
and the souls that I have hurt.
Friends
My boys and my girls,
Making me laugh, making me cry, then drying the tear,
From my eye.
Fantastic
You say I'm old enough to know better;
But I am still young enough not to care--
So I'll compose another love letter
To shake up your world, my dear lady-fair.
Your kiss still goes to my head like champagne.
(I should have built a tolerance by now!)
They send me spinning around and again...
I can't get enough of them anyhow.
I may not chase as fast as I used to,
Nor do my passions carry me away,
But my heart's embers still smolder for you-
And they prob'ly will 'til my dying day.
Our love matures like the finest of wine,
Whose bouquet piquant endures for all time.
The ill-equipped revolutionaries fought and died to set this nation free.
Against all odds they triumphed sending George's troops back across the sea!
The precious freedoms we cherish today were won due to their staying power.
It can truly be said of those courageous men that - "This Was Their Finest Hour!"
Men in Yankee blue held the line at Gettysburg with unwavering resolve.
Mr. Lincoln steered a steady course that a united nation might again evolve.
Alas, it took a fearful toll and bled the nation of its youthful flower.
Valiant men died to make others free - "This Was Their Finest Hour!"
In June of Forty-four, brave men stormed Normandy's shore to force a breach.
Heroic American soldiers forfeited life and limb upon that crimson beach.
They took a noble stance in order to knock the tyrannical Axis out of power.
History books will record forevermore that - "This Was Their Finest Hour!"
During the tense decades of the Cold War, dauntless warriors were on alert,
To protect and defend our priceless liberties that others sought to subvert.
Like a sturdy oak they didn't bend nor did they deign to cower!
A grateful nation will ever proclaim that - "This Was Their Finest Hour!"
Valorous American troopers yet today strive to uphold freedom's cause,
To stem the tide of terrorism that seeks to impose its despotic laws,
To bring peace to embattled peoples and install just leaders to power.
'Twill be told in generations to come that - "This Was Their Finest Hour!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
My generation’s finest hours have passed
Now, I am afraid we are too old to lead
For the most part, our time was a blast
My generation’s finest hours have passed
Question is, how much longer can we last
Before the curtain rains down on our breed
My generation’s finest hours have passed
Now, I am afraid we are too old to lead.
My generation’s finest hours have passed
For the most part, our time was a blast
Question is, how much longer can we last
Before the curtain rains down on our breed
Now, I am afraid we are too old to lead
All we can do, perhaps, is plant a new seed.
SECOND PLACE WINNER
Written August 13, 2021
"Favorite August 2021 Rhyme" Contest
sponsored by Constance La France
"That Finest o'the Castle"
Down that road now to the sea, 'sfound that town of Kiloree...
Fires burning ever bright, all throughout that night...
In all taverns... deep to brawling pits...
true night of revelry.
Oh... those townfolk did so gather along that road to sea...
For treasure won that very day had been in Kiloree.
He the finest of the castle, with lass upon his knee...
He in love with her, she in love with him..
Had both then rode through that night, naught but lover's whim...
Down that road to very sea and that town of Kiloree.
For under great and olden, tallest stout oak tree...
Those dreams of youth didst overcome that path to eternity.
That lightning bolt which did descend so rent that tree asunder...
And from those oaken boughs emerged thus truest wonder.
Amidst that tangle of wildest branch and yet in his embrace...
That lass then with her lad did find her surely given place.
Her voice yet young so soft so sweet...
Took strength in night event such swift uncertainty.
'Tis true it were as had been thought...
Her lad of world another... of distant brightest star.
Nor of earthly flesh had been this lad so wrought...
To her bosom thus did fall tear o'thought afar.
Oh, those bells did toll all through the day...
In town of Kiloree.
Some did laugh with mirth and glee...
Other did naught but pray.
Tear that fell so seen... wondrous in its sheen...
For gained her lad so she had... that day in Kiloree.
Yet heart anew thought sad... as her soul's lost virginity...
Lest time to come might tell... o'er din a'wondrous bell.
'Twas he that o'which legend spoke... in quiet hill mid'st valley wise...
Lad a'come to plunder... his sword o'guile wit nor guise.
He who rode that Devil's own steed...
On those roads o'Kiloree.
That Finest o'the Castle...
With his Lass upon his knee.
Rode he Fate that day...
Down down far down... to very Kiloree.
SeaWolf
©
How may we definethe finest love
a love so sweet that could have only come
from above.
Yet such a love has blown into my life it
knocks me over and now makes me think
twice.its like a knife stabbing at my soul
without a love like this our storys untold.
you see these are two lives that are
intertwined like deeply rooted grape vines
along the lines of this page can not simply
define an ever sweet love like mine.
its like a sip of the finest wine no fee
words describe this kind of love I feel
inside with no escape one can not hide
from this the finest Luv. M.C
Shimmering stars through barren trees –
I see far as the eye can see!
For clouds are in and snuggled tight,
reveling in this midnight sky.
Others join, as one by one,
each darkened house awaits the sun;
they slumber as the night doth play
and prosper ‘til the light of day.
The cool, crisp air abates my woes;
and for a moment (though my nose is froze!),
my heavy heart is warm and certain
Love’s finest backdrop is a dark blue curtain.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The continued story of this poet
Haters r going to be mad that I even wrote it
Here is where I give u "The Business"
Like a lightning bolt striking with a quickness
Trust me, u haven't heard the best of it
A debt to collect and I'm gonna settle it
Mouths sown shut like a gangsters lips
Leave everybody sleeping with the fishes
The lips tell no lies just like a politician
This is the Sh*t Talkers Edition
I don't do well staying inside the box
I'm better at picking locks
But ur lady just lets me in when I knock
Words like cells in my blood
Flowing through these veins like the levee during a flood
No filter from the brain to my paper
Just a figment of imaginary literature, kinda like vapor
In the Poetic Justice League and I'm the Caped Crusader
By the end I'll be your Daddy like Darth Vader
Enough of the dilly dallying and chitter chatter
Down to Brass tax, nitty gritty, the heart of the matter
All in ur face, screaming, "U can't see me!"
Letting words "Float like a butterfly & sting like a bee"
Leaving all the drama behind me
From this point forward
Pulling all the hit contracts I ordered
"Keep Stepping" and move forward
Wouldn't still be here if it wasn't for the Lord
Got an ppointment with fate,
Best not be late
Happiness & havoc is what I hope to create
If u haven't notice I am a Problem
U better have listened to everything I told them
A fresh canvas has endless possibilities
Maybe a mural of myself among other Poetic Deities
Or a sketch of the lies that I made those people believe
Truth is gray and things aren't what they seem to be