Best Firmed Poems
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1224 Poetry Contest, Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Written: June 20, 2023
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Zealous
reflections
wrest my heart
humble
pitapatting
Honed
toward my ears
A thrum
glides
alone
Into a
scene
within
finger
tipped
firmed
curved
notes
Seeking each chord
of tempting harmony played
intimately in heartbeats among
the rivulets of a tempo step
Everything is felt in music
This happens as if holding
onto each note of my own life
Feeling harmonic vibrations
in deep resonating moods
of cool evenings on the patio
Crackling embers at a campfire
Voices recite songs held as would
become a tradition of simpler times of
childhood friendships grew together
Held as if we could hold onto moments
of hopes, of loves, of dreams. The stars
seemed to fall only as we looked away
Gained as one humble guitar absorbs
a night sky of improvised melodies
Each harmony found by instinct
by touch, by invisible sight
**********************
Once upon a happenstance
I gazed, a look, and paused in trance
To dream upon a crystal palace
Her heart aglee and form to chalice
With towers true and field in view
I set a course to give tongue to
I crossed the field - anxiety smote
And walked upon this palace mote
Yet, as I firmed, my heart to pour
She drew the bridge and bolted door
Once I finish oiling rusty joints and dusting these old bones,
it's time set off on down the trail.
Where I'll head I haven't a clue;
by heaven perhaps to find you.
No, not some yellow brick road,
a highway for the broken and in-firmed.
Cracked and crumbled; musty and stale,
pathway to lost dreams express rail.
Cacophony slideshow playing in my mind,
as I slide into my seat to speed along.
A thousand what-if's circle to choose;
though now no regrets and nothing left to lose.
Finally my stop time to depart,
the repository of a million unseen dreams.
Doors drag open creaking as they go
gazing upon shelves stacked packed high and low.
Some like boxes shiny sparkling new,
others hanging darkly; skeletons waiting to pounce.
So many choices of where to start,
eternity to shuffle through the trappings of my hidden heart.
All the forks along my road,
ready to explore a life's worth of could have been's!
Oh the glee, to see my dreams and greatest glory,
sifting through my un-lived repository!
How can one say HAPPY Veterans Day.
A day reminiscent of all they who returned
from the horrors of war suffering with PTSS as well as all of the medically in firmed.
How can one say HAPPY Veterans Day.
when so many brothers and sisters lost their lives
leaving behind loving friends and family, children, husbands and wives.
How can one say HAPPY Veterans Day.
It just seems so disrespectfully inappropriate to me.
If I were to say anything to honor that day this is what it would be,
"Have A Great Veterans Day, In Honor Of All They
Who've Insured We All Live Our Lives Safely and Free."
Bottle of tears is my first version of this poetic legacy series
Skeleton of tears is which the venerated versatility carries.
This might be called as a sequel of alacrity or prolongation
But best before this is a celluloid and my heart and art collaboration.
In this poem “I or me” signify tears
Tears personify her expressions and emotions
Read this and know the life legacy of tears with concentration
And finally your fur, fleece and fuzz stand erect in attention.
Tears personify, I am compacted in stars
I am compressed between hurdles and wars
I am combusted on scorches
I am confided from Ishtar torches.
Tears epitomize, eternal bone of mine is an ominous emotion.
The Sagaras; Sarpada, Satluj shaded a challenge to my dire destination.
That one eve ever the fever of cleavers cannot catch up with me.
And the damp humidity of drought could not cope up with me.
Tears embody, I float on the branches of poignant army
I flood around the builds of happiness
I reach the borders of hell-heeled layers
And I roof down the clouds to my feet and make them rain prayers
Tears swank ,When my real steel sizzled atoms of blood,
Come together to conjure a flood.
The heated ink of emotions ignites to molt the black clouds
And let me visualize in which eve shall it swounds.
Tears exemplify, my liberty leads the immense flame in the hands of torch bearer
My prodigy evokes the waves hard under visions of volcanoes
The lust of my silvered glory was inspired from the shiny heavenly threads of feudal dart.
And the symptom of my introduction will be the rise of a burning heart.
God of hostility typify: Convinced that the fever of lava can't cope up with me
And the humidity of drought can"t hope up the level with me
In such a water working poem this is the conclusion
That even the pacific evaporate when my eternal strength feel thirsty after a tear solidification.
And now the spirits incarnate, my iron lungs had oxidized with the bitter-sour chilled water
after reading it and they crackled their internal matter into ignitious crater.
And now I will come to compete with and complete the legacy BOT(Bottle of Tears)
In the new form and with new fire firmed eyes to show you the third part “Kingdom for Disarmament of Tears ”.
4/14/2016
I feel bad that you all got to stand on my path for your livelihood said sandy, Sandy will be less harmless in the days ahead. Sandy is glad to have a short life span. Sand is trying as much as possible to give you folks only the crumbs of her majesty cruelty. The peace and progress of this wonderful nation is too much, we shall never reduce it to minimum .
I regret why I brought rush into your quiet lives. Sandy regret why she brought pains into your lives. Sandy regret why she put sorrows into your lives. I regret why I brought tears into your lives. Sandy is just a tourist. My coming is sudden my departure is so sudden.
Sandy you brought down all our lifetime achievements but thank for given us a second chance. Sandy you brought tears into our hearts. Sandy you brought blood into our eyes. Sandy whiles us. We will be firmed to pick up shattered pieces impose on us by you when you will be far gone. Bye sandy.
Sand you make me shaver, you make me fear Sandy. Sand you make the trees and buildings of the nation capital tremble as if it was the capital of the unbrave. I will not be ashamed to start all over again dear Sandy, we almost love you only if we will not see you again so soon bye sandy. Sandy we known we have been stung by your wicked venom but we will over come it Sandy.
I will tell my cousin Katarina not to frequent come on land again but both of us are still storbbone said Sandy. If Human Beings were borne educated our society will be a very perfect one said Sandy. Sandy our subways will go better than ever. Sandy we promise to keep a fatherly eye on you dear. Bye san…
I’m a Pessimist
We will cry even more
The misery will increase
The suffering won’t stop
We won’t get away from life with ease
We are the gloomy creatures
We are sentenced to grief
What life but a nice covered book
We read, but nothing firmed in mind
The kitsch dominate the art
Wars run the world
And hate heads the chart
Love will diminish
We are heading to perdition with a leash
Made with solid gold and vile wish
Can we flee this darkness?
Can’t we just life break and build an utopia
I’m sick of sharing the oxygen
With wolverine people, bloody monsters
And haters whom pop up with no reason
The elements of life are five
Hypocrisy, hate, blood, lies and some love
We are brain-cuffed with something with something the call school
Pressed with something they call traditions
Free yourself with something they call art
And the pressure will finally lessen
But sometimes I think quieting life
Because them crazy bald heads as Bob Marley said
Will eat up you corn and ask for more bread
Because money is time and time is money
They kill more children, chewing their gummy
Simply because we are human-beings
We will kill each other and branch to several teams
Maybe you’ll say I’m a pessimist, in life I can’t pass
And if you ask: ‘’ how can you describe the glass is it half empty or half full?’’
I’ll say… it’s a foggy glass
Our only source of water,
the spring lay to the west,
downhill from the house.
Its flow gurgled up
to form a creek which snaked
through a field toward the barn.
Cold spring water firmed butter,
and chilled the milk,
kept dry in tin buckets,
dropped underwater daily.
Our old sow would root, nose
under the fence, and head
on a straight path to the spring.
Mother hated that sow.
It took hours for the milky,
muddy water to run clear.
No milk for supper.
We wished for the milk
to curdle in her stomach.
POETRY IS OUR NAUTURE N'
STRIDE,(LIFE..) TO LET GO!!
EACH PEN STROKES A UNIQUE
*POWER* VIBRANTLY BLASTED
COULOR: EN~SYNCED WORDS,
JUST DIFFRENTLY EX*
PRESSED..(IMAGINABLE!!)
WE STAND ON FIRMED LAND;
FULL OF LOVE N' NOT HATE;
WE PULE N' LAUGH, BEING
SERIOUS OR JOKE AROUND:
WE'RE EQUALLY ABANDONED,
BUT AGAIN PICKED~UP BY A LOVING
HANDED STRANGER IN
STRENGTH.... AGAINST INK
SPILLED... WHERE WE ARE TRUSTED
IN LOYALTY AND GATHERED
THOUGHTS TO EXPLORE THIS
WORLD WE ONCE DESPIZED; A
MAXIMUM EXPLOSSION OF JOY
N' CHEER, ALL SEEMS SO
CLEAR ON LOVE OF THE SOUP
(*FAM..*) ATMOSPHERE*
UNITED*TING!!! INKS PENNED;
AS ONE...COME JOIN US...
THIS IS A TRIBUTE TO ALL
SOUP (*FAM..*)
WRITEN BY: SWEETHEART
CARMA 06-19-12
INSPIRED BY:
BRITTANY MaD InK CalDwELl;
PACE, G "INK-U-SCRIPT" AND;
MARLON (THE SCRIBE)...
THANK YOU DEAR POETS!!!!
True Love
True love is a vast ocean
Calms and churns with highs and lows
Shaped by ever-changing tides
Firmed by commitment.
January 13, 2016
Contest: Your Interpretation Of What Love Is
Sponsor: Bobby May
HEAL THY SELF O WOUNDED AFRICA
(no to XENOPHOBIA).
Wake up a voice shouted
You slept like a pregnant woman
While the drum beat of my assagil sounds like trumpet
With fear and deep chill I listened
The ghost of mighty black warrior standing in shiver
As I face the Great Zulu warrior lost in fear
I saw him Shaka cry to the members of Mambers the great Gods of Africa
There before him stands the Mighty Nile in disbelief
With the Niger filled with bloods disagrees to stay calm
The Senegal and the Congo revolted with flood
The orange and the Limpopo grumble and cried as the sky shared their pains with continuous rain pour.
O you failed cried d Zambezi as she invades her neighbors with flood
A knock on my door I heard a voice shout
Speak out for Africa
It is I Kwameh Nkrumah speaking
This is a sacrilegious act echoed the Mighty Zik
When the house is not in order the cockroaches becomes violent
Cried out the anguish voice of Awolowo
From afar I saw a running giant coming with the force of a chariot
Then I heard a voice so mighty was it that the visitors chased it with fear
He a mighty figure decorated and protected by glory of stars
Stood there is burning eyes of anger
Cover in the black glasses with general pride
As curious as a questionnaire
I ventured in to the glorious illusionary scene
Standing before my trembling eyes was The General Abacha in his full stature
Like a Ligtening spark the mighty figure bent his head in shame
As I looked to behold who thou art
There before me I saw The Mighty Mandela in tears of betray
Weep no more thou wounded soul
The thunderous voice of King Sailaise shouted
In council with the great Ghaddafi as furious as
Idi Amin
Sankara frowned like a disgraced old man
While the ghost of Seda Sengho felt it lost its victories like Anthonio lost all his titles
In schock I turned as a firmed hand gently parted my hand
It was a mighty spirit with two heads
It is the heads of the great secretaries
Achebe and Giwa
Handing me a pen a paper
Written on it
Heal thyself O Africa before yesterday bleed to death.
Employed by Boeing before I retired
An engineer, then into management
I had good writing skills, as were required
When I wrote, you could tell what was meant
Poetry wasn’t of interest to me
For the first seventy five years of life
In fact, when my three daughters lived with me
They had no interest; neither did my wife
Interest first kindled by Troy, my grandson
With his poems, written for an eighth grade class
E-mailed to me, read them all and when done
Wrote my first poem, it came together fast
While at my desk, looking out the window
I observed a robin seeking a worm
While watching his movements, let my words flow
Wrote “Bobbin the Robin “and interest firmed
Asked Troy if he’d like his poems in a book
Maybe enter his best in a contest
Joined poetry websites; learned what it took
And we entered poems, but mostly in jest
Demands are high on a teenager’s time
Troy’s poetry was on the back burner
I kept composing with words that rhyme
I posted, although I’m just a learner
Didn’t know when I posted on the sites
The members were free to give them a read
And just the thought of that gave me a fright
But found out member comments fill a need
When I Read the comments on my poems
Fascinated by what they say
Encouraging with so much support
A sincere one would make my day
One commenter had interest in my work
When as a poet, I become seasoned
Given my age, I couldn’t help but smirk
I never live that long is the reason
Meaningful comments received on my work
Keep me involved and my efforts on tract
Without them, my work I’d probably shirk
My fellow poets made such an impact
My first poems were all written in Quatrain
It’s a form that was came natural to me
At the time, didn’t even know the name
But rhythm and rhyme, my poems had to be
Explored forms with which I’ve never dealt
It’s never too late to learn something new
Over a hundred poems under my belt
Trying something else was the thing to do
To my fellow poets, I say, "Thank You!"
You’ve made this an enjoyable pastime
I now know it’s something I love to do
Molding my thoughts into rhythm and rhyme
Death calling
Very few are talented; gifted to discern the undetected sleeping peacefully, Whispering tightly sworn secrecy. Few are specially hand-pick curse to detect.
Numb wind- gentle breeze, cold air breathing salty rusty slightly decayed; mask in air intakes; provides disguised to skeletal fingers velvet faint touches
Rested underneath wet fresh green grass lay dead plant, surrounded by nourishing fertilizers. Eyes blind to nature signs channelling its impressions.
That washed away like evidence in sinking sand; fermenting fruits stored in olive brown wood containers stock shelves untouched by elves chanting for solid goals,
That fell and died, alone in the wilderness wild uproar sensation vibrates castle bells signaling preparation for battle that rang hollow almost undetected combing un-defensive ears, which sleep harmoniously with hidden danger.
Mind scratches away symptoms; deem forgotten but he’s still their lurking; like a tiger snares approaching his pray in fear, but dared to kill growl softly
Disguised itself in thick bushy deep grass advancing like a young cub learning to feed, sheath teeth slowly unsheathed; watching patiently for opportunity to strike
First it killed mood then pinch joy. Attacking peace while planting seeds, which sprang discomfort, leaves hosting buds of confusing flower, eradicated concentration draining essence thirsty; deplete my life source.
I feel it coming standing firmed leg shaking waiting to collapse. Defenselessly overhearing whispers organizing Leisurely, slaying my alliance; paralyzed functions fade.
I heard his voice but helpless to null my silent screams Cocked ears and listened to my death calling.
You see no scars and laceration
But it doesn't define that I'm not wounded
I smell and looked great to you
Hey! It just my make-up and perfume
But If you really want me
Caress me no matter what season
Stand firmed for your reason
Embraced me as I am
Love even my demons
2-2-2016
Mysterious_aries
The sun hung low
over the valleys girth,
ready to enter
the bosom of the earth.
Dust rose up
into the blood red sky,
a line of horses
moved as if to fly.
At the end of the forest
they hastily turned,
towards the enemy
as they firmed.
Then at a gallop
they approached,
man and horse
lives to be poached.
Swords glinted as they
were sharply raised,
towards the enemy
they came unfazed.
With a sickening thud
they fell in the mud,
as they were mowed
and death was sowed.
Horses and me just
floundered about,
some did scream
and others did shout.
Crimson breath bubbled
as they lay huddled,
horsemen now rested
for they had been tested.
Medics attended
as others commended,
at a charge that was
supposedly splendid.
Horsemen stood before
their wounded steeds,
and put an end
to their heroic deeds.