Best Forceful Poems
In the middle of winter
within misty moors,
lies a melancholic meadow.
Up above grey skies foretell
perturbed crows to seek shelter.
Down below,
an isolated tree - naked and fatigued;
Listens in silence.
Her soul is wounded,
but you do not see her blood.
Defiant against dysfunctional adversity,
her roots are stronger than an anchor.
Diversifying in deep directions,
kissing the mouth of the Earth.
Her torso may seem tall and mighty,
but her appearance deceives.
Sins of mankind have exposed her sap,
as bark beetles crumble the surface.
Forceful winds and bullet rain blasts
against her weary teary face.
Her tame frame trembles,
as naked broken branches are
blown away by brutal gusts.
It is just another battle for life,
as birds leave her behind - suffocating.
Raindrops stream down her body,
creating puddles of sadness,
soaking deep into her roots.
In the middle of winter
within misty moors,
lies a melancholic meadow;
where a tree yearns for Spring.
To bloom prosperously
and to bathe in sunshine -
so departed birds return.
Silent One
20 February 2018
Categories:
forceful, analogy, assonance, deep, sad,
Form:
Free verse
Her persona is like
a portrait
of picturesque perfection,
embalmed in
bittersweet lavender,
unseen within depths
of tributaries of elixir.
If only they knew
the chaos that flows,
constrained in
a confined
gallery of grief.
Not everyone is
a master painter.
Some brush with brutal
bruised strokes,
provoking timeless
streams of
implicit secrets,
from crimson stains
on ivory satin,
where scents of juniper
evoke phases of
unpredicted phenomenons,
oblivious to chronicles
of forsaken tales,
which hide
beneath barriers,
many have struggled
to venture within.
But there is an artist
with a
pastel on his palette,
that can correct
her disfigured pigment.
He holds cryptic
calligraphic engravings,
veiled behind the inflamed
chamber of her heart.
He understands that her
spirit drowns when
winds are forceful.
How her
delicateness has
been sleeping
on withered roses,
wilted by
cruelest rays of a
summer
mourning
morning star,
Where bedtime stories
were puppeteered
by hurricanes
feeding on
fenceless vulnerabilities.
yet when
sleepless silence sings,
it can disturb
in reverberating
heavy metal screams.
So she echoes her trauma
through hurtful hisses,
poisoning with
vicious venom.
Her aura alters in
acrimonious attitudes
from serene sunshine
to furious gales.
She remains without
a grip on untamable
seasons of
unholy torture,
Only he knows the poem
in her eyes is the
last train home,
so he calms her
tempest temperament,
enabling hidden rainbows
in her mind to reappear.
He is a soothing
gemini night-flower,
even with outcries
of midnight thunder,
his patience resembles
raining jasmine water,
purifying
her murky waters,
into a crystallised milky-way
of kyanite desires,
guiding her
to swirl and swoon
into
whirlwinds of closure.
Categories:
forceful, dark, deep, devotion, i
Form:
Free verse
In those bleak fields that so quietly lie - stilled as graves,
Between where the thin wind creaks and upwardly heaves,
Unseen feet can sometimes be heard
Shuffling through the old woods discarded leaves.
For i have seen those strange distant lights
That detach themselves from heavens spilling crowds;
When dropping over the blindside of the little ridge
They rise to leap from cloud to cloud.
Impossible angles of inexplicable darting momentum -
Inwardly gyrating wheels now ingeniously turning;
Marvelous these the strange crafts of unknown design...
Yes - I have seen the night skies burning!
For well i remember as a reckless child
How i stole out to ascend that one forbidden hill:
Cast deep plans, set the clock ticking accordingly,
Rose, wrapped myself against Novembers raw chill.
Deep inside the Beech-hanger the Plough was struggling,
And over the despairing holt a devisive breeze...
As, of a sudden, on the edge of swirling darkness -
Showered particles upon vapourous ethers so violently seized!
Oh the hissing bolts of sizzling electrons -
Brilliance of colours like a dying meteors last rites!
Anti-Graviton paradox of mastered equational conundrum
Igniting the latent freeze within winters sharp night.
Radiant orb held aligned by polar-opposites forceful lines,
Spinning upon a singular point with such consummate ease;
Roaring furiously liken fabled dragon of Arthurian legend,
Hot breath licking across lines of illuminated trees.
Momentary seconds that crept alongside an age enraptured
Amidst tumbling thoughts of - "Just another Alien abductee"!
Then, gently tilting starboard, accelerating smoothly away,
Vanishing over the stacks and tiled rooftops of nearby Walton-Lea.
Often have i wistfully pondered in ever hopeful, watchful years:
What was it so witnessed as it hung before me in suspended flight?
And - with many cramming thoughts - groping for answers sought -
Recalling the wondrous moment of such an awe-inspiring sight!
Categories:
forceful, mystery,
Form:
Rhyme
While in the moonlit night he stood, his crew below asleep,
the captain gazed with knowing eyes upon the ocean deep.
A sinister tranquility was fleeing in the path
of moaning wind grown resolute in showing forth its wrath.
The moon, a pale pearl paradox, stared calmly down at him.
Then angry clouds obscured its face and everything was dim.
Behind the captain’s knowing eyes, his thoughts had grown astray.
They took him to another place where once he used to play.
He stood among the acres of unmoving solid ground,
where waves became tall stalks of grain the wind blew all around.
The first of many undulations crashed onto the ship.
He pictured rippling golden wheat and felt his vessel dip.
The men, awakened, clamored now. He prayed their deaths be swift
and gripped the wheel to navigate a ghastly forceful lift.
Imagining hot prairie sun, he viewed the huge cold swell
that came to bury them. . . and closed those eyes that knew too well.
Written years before it was posted here at Soup on 6/6/2010
Submitted 8/26/2022
for Mark Toney's 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 13 Poetry Contest
Categories:
forceful, death,
Form:
Rhyme
*
Female sexuality
Fanatically robbed
Fraught with violation
Forever left in shame.
Folds of indignity
Forceful invasiveness
Fulfilling love denied.
-------------------------------------------
*I feel very strongly about this topic.
Have been meaning to bring it up.
This Pleiades is short but meaningful.
--------------------------------------------
Contest: Any Poem#29
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A.
Placing: 2nd
Categories:
forceful, abuse, sad, violence,
Form:
Verse
When visions, discoveries burn my soul
that which pours out of me is something forceful,
maybe CHASTE. Although it's hard for many to embrace
ideas on an unconventional level... I still knead my fingers
on paper where the language of my voice chants
or hollers wildly--these hands grasping my teacup.
Morning wakes and I get lost in drained phrases,
a blueprint of journeys imagined...they are only words,
vacant lines about nature, anguish, even love...
Yet here is life in poetry which rises above
what is expected. And I blaze unknown trails
when moonshine grants me the favor of raking this navel
and speak from a space that marks my integrity.
I believe that weaving a story is my endowment
to echoing dreams needing full exhalation;
to untold traumas masked by social graces...
more so, to all innocent wiles, tastes, fragrances
borne out of my will to convey the unusual,
deserted remembrances , where a universe
of people meets in serendipitious places--
those ardent moments defining man as a divine human.
Only then would my oolong tea blow cold,
and my moving poetry become vulnerably warm.
```*```
10/16/2020
Beth Evans' A Duty of Poetry Contest
Categories:
forceful, devotion, passion, writing,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Silk wading thru wistfully warm sea waters,
my dreaming fingers have lingered to potter
with ocean surface, sun sparkled glitters.
My poetic pieces have gone full twitter
in charmed waters of crystal clear rarity
where I felt God's love soothe life's severity.
Slowly easing into ocean powered waves,
my playful moods have seriously caved
from forceful, salt stinging, brutal wave smacks.
My body has ached sea bruised, blue and black.
Rough seas crudely taught me joy may survive
despite waves of fright that savagely arrive.
Now, reaching the end planks on my journey's pier
and viewing my twilight's approach so clear,
it's past sunshine glitters that most sustain
these concluding sea views for my earthly gain.
Yet, I know without crass waves that abused,
wading joys would not have peaked this enthused.
Categories:
forceful, joy, life, sea, self,
Form:
Rhyme
Before you I am your canvas blank
Delicately to paint linear and in liquid hues
Dripping and splashing we two drank
Forceful stimulated strokes you use
Layering the colors upon my surface
With a precision your brush does flow
Emphasis laid on expressive purpose
As your artistic viewing eye grows
Articulate precisely what you paint
Evoking sensuousness as you drip
Vigorous sweeping technique no restraint
Finesse done with your own workmanship
When strokes become feverous and fast
To the last stroke felt with ecstasy
To add your very own lust contrast
Finally leaving us right here at ease
Contest; Metaphor of love
Sponsor: Bobby.May
Date; 11/1/2019
Categories:
forceful, love, metaphor,
Form:
Rhyme
**Sun Tan**
Forceful ray printing dark skin
Sunbathe, aquarium sky
Peaceful trace beautiful line
Sun comes alive
---
**Hourglass Horizon**
We sit embracing sweet time
Beautiful amber lit eyes
Red dawn mist, loving moment
Holding mommy's hand
---
7-5-13
Categories:
forceful, beauty, summer,
Form:
Dodoitsu
There was no finer detective than Inspector Thaddeus Tweede of Scotland Yard!
He was most astute in solving crimes and could quickly detect a fake canard!
He joined the force as a 'bobby' working himself to the peak of his profession.
You daren't pull the wool over his eyes when he was seeking a confession!
Ah! He could have been cast in a movie since he was a detective's prototype,
In his tweed suit, tweed cape, tweed deerstalker's cap and ever-present pipe!
When investigating crime scenes he'd mull the facts with his chin in his hand,
Puffing his pipe making copious notes should he be called to the witness stand!
The highlight of his career was solving the case of Prime Minister Percival Hoar,
Who was found by his maid one dark and stormy night sprawled upon the floor!
There was no evidence of forceful entry or anyone breaking through the door,
Nor was there any sign of a struggle, bullet holes or oozing, bloody gore!
Who could have done this dastardly deed that brought the minister to his doom?
He took prints, photos and noted a strange odor as he moved about the room.
Thaddeus called on all his experience and training to solve this mysterious case,
Muttering to himself and doing a lot of 'hmming' as to and fro he did pace!
Eureka! He noted a bulge in the prime minister's jacket he hadn't noticed before!
Gingerly lifting a bottle from the pocket he deduced he needn't search anymore.
It wasn't a gun, the butler, jilted lover, political enemy or an envious friend
That did the terrible deed - 'twas demon rum that brought the minister to his end!
Categories:
forceful, funny, mystery,
Form:
Rhyme
Leaves a’ rustling
So near to me
I feel your hot breath
I smell my fate, close
Wild
Wild I started
Grew too fast, too bold
Grew beyond myself, grown far too old
Yet looking back now
I regret, I fear
If this is really the end...
How did I get here?
My skin, now so dry
So vibrant it was
My colour now gone
Gone forever, anon
As thoughts peel from my frame
My solid roots fray
I glide through sky blue
I drift in breeze fair
I’m watching all again
As if I were yet to press play!
I land on moist soil
I rest on this rich earth
Eyelids heavy
I’ve found my last hearth
My resting place
My journey complete
My adventure has ended
I cecum to fates grace
That breeze was so sturdy
That wind so forceful
It carried me quickly
As if remorseless
Yet as I lay here
Thoughts are so peaceful and clear
I see myself, I see my worth
What I did to this world…..what I left in my berth
I now know why
As dawn becomes dusk
I’m finally satisfied
They saw enough.
Categories:
forceful, bereavement,
Form:
Free verse
Why is life so difficult?
All the time I wonder,
Why I stand against lightening
But I cower from the thunder.
Lightening is life.
It’s what causes me to make a choice.
The sweet yet forceful sound
Of thunder is the sound of your voice.
When I cry my endless tears,
Why does my heart forcefully bleeds?
Why am I constantly torn
Between my wants and my needs?
I have only one want
But my needs are what I need to do.
If my needs help hold a better
Than I want to need you.
My heart says it can
Take any blow she will throw,
But can I really trust my heart?
I don’t know.
I want the sweeter things in life
But I need the bitter.
If my wants lead me to death
Then I need to be with her.
Categories:
forceful, loveheart, sound, heart, life,
Form:
The old man sighed
Sitting on a rock next to a pond
Crookedly balancing Yin and Yang between his eyelashes
Conversing with the Lady of the pond
Jade eyes and un-wrinkled time
In Her beautiful face
Held in his hands
An old fishing rod
Bamboo
Bends and flexes with the times
It holds and catches even the biggest
Devils in the water
The lotus flowers embrace the jade tide
Soft-hearted water caressing unmovable rock
Trees bent in silent reflection
The ultimate knowledge, the Lady whispered
Lies between the murmur of the leaves
The laughter of the lotus
The bend in the trees
Listen! Listen!
These will outlast everything
He thought
I shall give knowledge to my sons
And teach them
Soul
The old man contemplated
The secession of his life
There is a time to hold on and a time
To let go
This time, his time
Is over, long gone with the Maiden on the Moon
Beckoning him home
He taught the young men
To bend with the rod
To bow to the spirits
To be one with God
To be forceful, to be soft
To listen and to speak
Wise Man’s words
And Foolish Man’s dreams
He told the Old Stories
He sang the Old Songs
Traditions and ancient verses
To light their path through life’s courses
And as each of his sons threw the rod on the ground
Frustrated with the old man’s ways
Outdated methods and foolish wishes
The heavens opened and unleashed
The ultimate Father’s Rage
The rain pounded on the once peaceful pond
Dismantling the flowers and smothering the land
With a wrathful urgency
Drowning the Lady in the lake
Her beautiful jade eyes never again to reflect philosophies
Hidden in the reeds
The lotuses closed onto themselves
Never again to give such a sweet smell
The old man sighed
It’s out of his hands now, it’s out of his hands now
And this,
This will outlast
Everything.
Categories:
forceful, time, beautiful, old, water,
Form:
Narrative
~~~
Tis a gladness found in sadness
mostly pleasure
wince of pain
From an odor round the barroom
none the boys could e'er explain
Like a billowed line of washin'
after gentle fallen rain
Tis the wail of spring befallin'
on a barfly
oh ... the shame
~
Lo
there's homework
I'm the tender
to a list of things that broke
Ere the boss be sharing surely
words no poet ever spoke
Lazy good for nothing boozer
paint the fence and fix the gate
You want a pint ... you must be kidding
Plow the forty ... 'fore it's late
~
Down the misty path of memories
thoughts of Kelsey's brew appears
In a vision almost godly
round a table rests my peers
And no memory tarries longer
forceful
clearer
sweeter
stronger
than ol' Kelsey pouring liquor at the bar
I sheds a tear
~
Summer sadness tans bare shoulders
to replace the winter's shun
And the kids each day
they greet me ... Morning Dad
YOUR IT ... then run
Lord
I never knew that Heaven
'twas the place beyond my wall
Till I heard my children laugh
while toasting mallows in the fall
~
Though breath of Heaven
washed the aftertaste
of Kelsey's from my life
And forever I'll be holding ... dear
new memories
with my wife
I am angered at the sign
that hangs atop ol' Kelsey's door
. . . NO BARFLIES . . .
. . . CASH RESPECTED . . .
~
Sure
His wife now runs the bar
~~~
Categories:
forceful, addiction, change, emotions, ireland,
Form:
Rhyme
Greetings from Canada dear readers ! Let me cajole you with a wee bit of fun
and ardent banter. Well, obviously I am Canadian and we are very polite and
charming people, we are sorry when we are guilty of nothing. We say please
and thank you and your welcome often. It is drilled into us from childhood.
You bump into us and lickety-split we will say sorry! It can all get quite absurd.
Talking about absurd there is a real rigmarole going on with a groundhog, a
rodent who predicts if we will get a long winter or a short winter. What kind of
nincompoop believes in this gobbledygook. The story goes that if the rodent,
excuse me, I mean groundhog sees his shadow we have six more weeks of
winter. Now, being a fairly intelligent girl, I say in a forceful voice, balderdash!
I could have predicted six more weeks of winter. Without getting cantankerous,
it is bloody freezing outside! Apparently this pampered, Willie rodent saw his
big fat shadow and it was declared. What a brouhaha that caused. Why did they
not just ask me ? Oh, we may get a little melt, to tease us but the snow and
cold will stick around to torment us, the wind will blow and the snow will fall.
the bare branches wish
for soft emerald green gowns-
snowflakes swirl and twirl
_______________________
February 4, 2018
Poetry/Haibun/A Bit Of Lofty Chit Chat
Copyright Protected, ID 18-9895-87
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Eloquent Banter; You tease me so nicely
sponsor, Edward McCall
Honorable Mention
Categories:
forceful, fun,
Form:
Haibun