Best Flagrant Poems
For centuries, minorities have fought
to gain their human rights. How can it be
that even now so many folks do not
feel safe in “civilized” society?
And one can’t fathom the atrocities
this very minute somewhere going on
affecting innocents in towns and cities!
Great wickedness from day to dusk to dawn!
Laws were established to ensure that we
would have our freedoms each and every day.
I look around me. More and more I see
injustice taking human rights away!
I’m most appalled by censorship and lies
controlling us to feed elitists’ greed
as my so-called “free” government denies
the rights our constitution guaranteed!
The flagrant disregard of human rights
that’s happening today is sickening.
It’s history repeating . . . and the lights
are going out! End times are quickening.
Wake up and see what’s coming! If you don’t,
too soon it will be too late for us all.
Come stand and fight with me, for if you won’t,
we’ll be as slaves, and great shall be our fall.
Dec. 8, 2021
for the 'Human Rights' Poetry Contest of Robert James Liguori
Categories:
flagrant, rights,
Form:
Rhyme
She senses before she sees
The manicured nails - the elegant fingers
Holding out the hundred dollar bills - enticingly - so temptingly
A generous nights takings of busking here
In one proffered hand
She grabs at it petrified it might be an illusion
Evaporating in a puff of smoke
Fingers hold it back, teasingly
Compelling eye contact
She looks up sceptically
Dark eyes meet her aqua blues, sparking a sort of affinity
‘Eyes are the window of one’s soul’- so it is said in all sincerity
But the magnetic dark eyes of her enticer are fathomless in their intensity
His type she has encountered before - money for favours
Well she is no novice - a living after all - a girl has to make
And his generous offer rivals his devilish good looks
But she senses a darkness favouring the energy emanating
A cold shiver runs through her veins like someone just walked on her grave
Fear ripples down her spine akin to a stroking finger chilled in ice
The spell he casts foreboding
The calmness of the night has taken flight
In its haste to set the macabre scene
Mesmerising are the eyes that bore into hers
Projected thoughts furtively slip into her mind
Infiltrating it like a slithery snake
Bringing with it forbidden thoughts of desire
She falls into the inky black abyss
Succumbing to heady dark passionate conceptualization
However the chilling message is coherent
This is not a mere opportunistic one night stand
That he desires
This is more - so much more
This is taboo concupiscence unleashed
This is her life in exchange for what?
Her life for immortality?
Surely not!
Yet his eyes eloquently convey it all
The hunger so unconcealed - so transparently flagrant
To yield to darkness
Satisfying his appetite for
Death of a different nature?
Obliteration of life as she knows it to be
Tenebrous Immortality in exchange for her blood
A prelude to his finale of taking her soul
And then a metamorphosis
From Prey to Predator
Video clip -
Like a Vampire- Catrien Maxwell
Categories:
flagrant, dark, desire, love, lust,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
(Spenserian Sonnet)
A flagrant man is Robert Brown, a swine;
his eyes glow red like ember coals of fire.
Will fate be kind or bring him bitter brine
and will his soul the evil one require?
Did in pretense he seek to prove desire
and rise to plant a kiss upon her lips?
He sliced her neck and watched his wife expire,
as blood streamed down and dripped from fingertips.
Yet rumor spread as neighbors came to grips
with horror of a murder in their town,
and newsmen raced to pen details in scripts
while lawmen flocked to chase the villain down.
I held my mother in my arms and cried;
her eyes met mine in sorrow as she died.
Categories:
flagrant, murder,
Form:
Sonnet
As I
Soak in hummingbird’s exhale
I feel tragic sonatas
Trying to chain
Trying to crucify
My sedentary grip on instability
I smell the repugnant commoner
Blasting scattered shots
Against yesterday’s decent
I became the handsome error again.
The godfather of uplifting idle minds
Sedated within the bosoms of complacency
Because, indirectly, I was the inebriated screw-up
Immunized with community pride
As 420’d lyricists
Puff corrugated burns
To keep their spine
Fused in relatable,
Flaccid significance
They dodge flagrant accountability
Like an intentional cripple
And I
Slow dance with agnostic prayer
There would be no commandments
To remind me
That I am still beautiful inside
Beautifully flawed.
Beautifully demonized.
Beautifully improper.
Ugly.
Yet, Gaia’s sun empowers this stanza
To breathe better breaths
To see what refuses to be seen
And no longer accept what cannot be changed
I carve milestones upon gravestones
In friends’ memoriam, nevermore
It felt peacefully redundant to be important,
Chiseling away the vowels of animosity
Attempts to hold my hands
Within this ambidextrous nightmare
Right hand, red
Left hand, chained
Courteous disdain
For developing minds,
Their figure of speech
Meant no blissful harm
With their 40 lashes
Conjured by judgmental testaments
Oh, how they preach for better tomorrows
While stirring yesterday’s pot
Becoming the “end” in “friend”...
©D.J.E.
Categories:
flagrant, forgiveness, friendship, leaving, life,
Form:
Free verse
Farcical, extravagant
My birthmark is a scar
A speckled blotch ...
A spot of pox
An icon from afar
I'm an upstart, I'm an eyesore
Ranting with a flair
In a tempest, I'm a rabid bird
Setting fire to the air
As dauntless as a hellhag
Unmoved by love or care
I can hold up in a cyclone
Feasting on your fear
I'm your last hope
As a laughingstock
I'm your courage in a dare
As audacious as a terrorist
With death-defying hair
When it's time to play the tragic fool
I'm as flagrant as a glare
Seething with a vengeance
In a tantrum of despair
Written by © Raven Drake
Categories:
flagrant, parody, philosophy, symbolism,
Form:
Rhyme
She said, if I correctly recall,
That, for her, a sustaining love is an
Absolute prerequisite for what
Would be a total commitment of the
Coupling bodies...and all that
Constitutes the essential parts of the
Eternal Soul;
And I not so assuredly competent
In this - the practice of such a higher
Art!
Adding, some little time later, that
Being so chained, in what she described
As an unfortunate consequence of a
Most regrettable thrall,
To a domineering Harlequin who,
When mindlessly exercising the upper
Whip hand, had neither modest restraint
Or any amount of unimpassioned
Self-control,
Was, in fact, just a flagrant excuse
For a base lust;
Of course this was not to be confused
With the laudable and gallant actions
Conceived within the inner workings
Of a steadfast and more openly honest
Heart.
And was I convinced that I was indeed
Sincere in all my avowed pledges?
And did I truly understand that all her
Troubled life she had tirelessly
Searched for one such as I purported
To, somehow, seemingly be?
How I instantly can bring to mind
Those obscure and doubting mutterings...
Still carrying upon an ill wind I
Should not wonder;
I think of them like the songs of the
Naiads: what woefully remaining
Sounding endlessly above the glassy
Tinkling of a mystical lakeside's
Stiffened and shuffling Sedges;
You a modern-day Danae, infant Perseus
Clutched to your swollen breast, your
Little box, in all its abject
Loneliness, now set adrift upon some
Desolate and open sea.
What turned out, in the end, to be a
Pointless charade. Perhaps; but that
Which, despite shortening periods, whilst
Enduring felt almost timeless.
Then of course this shared guilt...
That will, shamefully I fear,
Forever bind us.
Categories:
flagrant, destiny, relationship,
Form:
Rhyme
The idea behind this poem came from reading a poem of the same title, written by Richard “Canadian Man-god” Lamoureux. Now, his poem went in an entirely powerful, yet other, direction than I thought it was going to go. I happily let him know that. So, he decided to have me touch upon where I thought he was going with his poem.
Some people really need to be careful what they ask for… ;-)
On an 8pm, Louisiana dream
Tastes of nocturnal, July humidity
Succumbs flagrant passions
With moistened grip, they tease
Coltrane whispers annihilate tense exhales
Under concave moon
She threw Mr. So and So onto Pacific Ocean’s waterbed
As if she was a professional baseball pitcher
Down
The
Middle
His exuberance would shatter sound’s tattered walls.
Slow grinds
Chemical reactionary bliss
Similar to Neutron bombs
Minus the consequences
Her tailored skin
Ready for gripped, enigmatic resolutions
But, first,
She had to “freshen up”
“You’re already being fresh, don’t stop on my account”,
He says with Monday mourning frustration
As cedar scented bathroom door shuts with determined patience,
And running water with a mix of Celine Dion hums from her trained throat
He stands to gather his thoughts…
…until his eyes exit stage right towards her opened travel bag
A pair of satin boxers & edible, Cotton Candy hand-cuffs from Target
With a signed, perfumed gift tag,
“Can’t wait for tomorrow, Mr. Such and Such,
-Love, your Hedonistic dream”
As running water came to serenity’s halt,
She exited restroom with shedding curves.
Her strut became dislocated,
As she stared into his trembling pupils
Wiping the cotton coating from his lips
“Too bad you couldn’t chew your way out of this one”,
The other half of the handcuffs smeared in cursive signature
Against yellow-gold gift tag he hands her with unedited closure
With striking slams against Louisiana hotel door
Parallel to Mother Nature’s thunderous clap
He exits stage left
Giving almost-lover
A proverbial slap
©Drake J. Eszes
Categories:
flagrant, games, life, lust,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Smoke comes off the chimney tops
Trails behind the breeze as the rain drops
Hurdles under the clouds to seek shelter
Disappears in the vapor of a darkest winter
Snapped under my coat I ran to shelter
My steps tracing the trail of glass
Sweat dripped down my palms elevated
I lift my knees and walk agitated
Took a second to notice, a scarf hanging
Neck loose, head bottled, scalp dangling
Cold breath sneaked up and down my neck
As the lady grasped sight of her final dread
My gaze slid under her skirt
Her undone hair and bloody shirt
All climbed to intertwine juxtaposed above
Merciless, spineless, slithering gloves
Ice-clawed eyes stared back in horror
Hands clenched in fists flagrant in color
Put a finger on his lips and whispered
A tone that struck my nerves unhindered
Speak a word and you're next
Don't put my patience to the test
Walk away, disappear, 'cause if I find you
You'll pray that god take you before I do
I couldn't hesitate twice abt walking
Suddenly, he cringed and started falling
Branches broke as his neck followed behind
Snapping backwards, dispersing his spine
I slowly walked over and found a note
To whom it may concern, sloppy hands wrote
I am but a victim, of this woman's throat
the day she stabbed me, the day she spoke
I'm but a lonely spirit roaming free
Why has this lady followed me
To murder all that I loved and once cared for
To sweep off the little things I'd die for
She was Lady Death, the one we all fear
Seductively laying us to eternal rest
Drove me to heaven, doors slid clear
Her arms wide open, her warm loving chest
Then to hell I went for my earthly deeds
The torture I've seen for all those years
And you're next in a line of slaves
A queue of misery, a farm of graves
Your eyes have seen a deadly charm
Life as you know it is far long gone
Prepare for a sinfully long run
Here she comes, load your gun
Categories:
flagrant, anger, beauty, dark, death,
Form:
Quatrain
BETWEEN FARAWAY DISTANCE is THE POET and I
Treacherous stretches mounds of greens feed fresh the mind. . .
never ever upon a spangled heavens or in seagulls’ crash - hush,
nor on echoed notes of tweeting nightingales did I hear; feel. I find
the need to stop, steadily listen to the drumbeating of my heart.
Vivid is the touch of class brushed unto words, phrases and lines
paraded to thousand eyes to be read; critiqued or appreciated.
Not the lyrics, not the tones, not ev'n verses nor blues could conceal.
His pens, the aroma of spring flowers, sweet! Drawing grins to lips:
his style, maybe common to some but to me: truly, one of a kind.
Speaking softly to my nerves, tickling senses to consider he. . .
Our panache oppose however in seeking depths likeness bursts,
boundless in abandon from fountain of muse, more than amuse.
Not a sonnet, not a kyrielle, not even a haiku nor a tanka could hide.
Unstoppable, the poet and I, our thoughts and feelings fused. Twined
in our inks displayed not only a blooming romance hue. Yes, between us
is a faraway distance, so flagrant - challenging intentions if sincere or not,
but shared portions of rhymes, talks and times won; serving as shapers,
enriching our vows. Not long, the poet and I is wearing golden rings.
Written January 01, 017 (09:55 am)
Categories:
flagrant, inspiration, love, poetry, space,
Form:
Free verse
Flowers
Flagrant Inspiration
Spring rains soft
Love strolls
Black death
Dancing
Butterflies singing
Life a flutter
Songs only beginning
Black Death
Frolicking gardens
Beer flowing in fountains
Youth teases, curves and tinsel
Three angels in the corner, sleeping
Black Death
Tranquility
Softer than feathered pillows
Peacefulness
The final glimpse through wrinkled curtain
Black death
Rose’s red
Ring around the rosie
Skipping glee abounds
Yet over there in the closet
Black death
The path in the forest
Dark and misty
Winding and twisty
Maps hold no comfort nor key
Black death
The last
The final
The end
Inside the darkness
Until.........
Categories:
flagrant, death, gothic, humanity, imagination,
Form:
Verse
The blood and lapis daylight sets
in ether. How the mind resets
brutality of winter chill
with February's codicil;
what gossamer a dream begets.
I hear the crickets in the dark,
their clicking takes up where the lark
has been. The flagrant marigolds
have huddled into twilight's folds,
on sanguine nightfall to embark.
The eastern zephyrs fall and rise
with rapid movement of my eyes
and echo whispers midnight makes
of blood white trails on moonlit lakes.
In silhouette I recognize
a dogwood, though can only sense
its glowing coral consequence.
The blossoms tell me they comprise
sweet spawn of sun rays in disguise
and capture all my heartbeats hence.
Now honeysuckle is entwined
on crisscrossed pathways of my mind
with jasmine in a potpourri
to conjure shamrock reverie
that leaves the pewter scape behind.
Around the lambent dogwood tree
alone upon that verdant lea
buds can prosper, bees will hum.
As though seduced by opium
I greet a vista I can't see,
at least not quite. I know it's there
and feel the dogwood everywhere,
behind me, flanking left and right,
an omnipresence in the night,
like answers to unconscious prayer.
Now high upon a clovered scarp
the tree is standing clear and sharp.
In silence I see restless blooms
play music that my ear assumes
is chiming dulcet as a harp.
Such Efflorescent star bursts splay
like windmills on a gusty day
that in ebullience do portend
a vibrance that will never end
and all my reticence allay.
In waking to a winter storm
that's February's gelid norm
I long still for my fulgid tree,
resplendence that surrounded me,
but only meet a turbid swarm.
I rise and pull back hermit drapes
to see the torrid flurries traipse,
yet through the chaos can discern
the leafless frame for which I yearn
beyond the window storming scrapes.
The dogwood stands just as before
unclad upon the icy moor
with nascent berries undeterred
as though through humble verse and word
like daylight through an unclosed door.
2/23/18
Strength Thru Adversity
Gregory R. Barden
Categories:
flagrant, dream, imagery, nature, tree,
Form:
Quintilla
Sifting for lamb in a wolves pack
Like searching for a needle in a hay stack
Predator's parameter on a scale of gourmet
Lessening time warble with each revolution
Camouflaged in whiskers, shedding off spotlight
Tossed decision in flaunting sides between jekyll or hyde
When fostering quaint concubine, a mistaken desire
A swollen brook will break across the familiar pier
If silent does not mean it isn't there
Contingently awaiting or frolicking on the devil's mare
How lullaby enunciates at the cradled moment
Decides whether put evil to snooze or become more flagrant
28/06/2016
Categories:
flagrant, conflict, life, muse, ,
Form:
Free verse
just like she's always done
with a heart and mind pricked by thorn
there she stood with her black and yellow top
And a blue jeans from a known fancy shop
A golden wristwatch and a running hairband that doesn't stop
Black shoes and a yellow hand-band
With a face white like chalk-snow
And a skin which paleness hath swallowed
Apart from her sulking paces, full flagrant happiness followed
Accompanied with shifts in mood and wilderness that shows
Causing heads to shake, and mouths to blurt, and minds to to think their humanly share
But none could notice her despair
Happiness outside, sadness inside
Because she envy all others who still have hopes of seeing their friends
And those who continue to wish happy new year
And those who shall continue to live in no fear
If only life have for her a spare...
Either a day, months, or a couple of years
Today, from her wardrobe, of what is best, dearly and most expensive she wear
Because tonight is the last of her days
And before tonight, she is going to do all in her wish
For surely today, counting her days hath end, and so is her diagnosis
Categories:
flagrant, blue,
Form:
Free verse
Garish should be the undertone
so say the ones who hold the line
desiring only that mutes explain
the breadth of life beyond the pale
until the souls who dare to dream
demand expression beyond the veil
with vibrancy of color’s swatch
and actions stated to justly shock
these statements exclaimed without regard
for sensibilities in fashion’s realm
instead the giants are thrown down
by admiration of damning jests
extracting praise for substitutes
the flagrant over the sadly tamed
a mystery that gods disdain
while beauty fills the latitudes.
Categories:
flagrant, appreciation,
Form:
Free verse
(12 Syllable Blues)
Why you go there resides within your pretty head
Where to muse of a confined love pale and flagrant
When you could be home here safe asleep in your bed
To wander through each night as one would a vagrant
In streets of shadows where silhouettes dwell mazy
Where to muse of a confined love pale and flagrant
For this place hence leaves my heart grave my mind hazy
Your eyes wide open and only for the moonlight
In streets of shadows where silhouettes dwell mazy
Your need to taste the power of the bloom such plight
When steps you take so brazen a journey of chance
Your eyes wide open and only for the moonlight
To tout your wares a dangerous game in life’s dance
Under a stale archaic lamp in lanes narrow
When steps you take so brazen a journey of chance
Fearful I am one dark day I will find you dead
Why you go there resides within your pretty head
Under a stale archaic lamp in lanes narrow
When you could be home here safe asleep in your bed.
© Harry J Horsman 2018
Categories:
flagrant, angst, love,
Form:
Terzanelle