Best Forego Poems
As night grows short, yet moon and stars are still aglow,
some sleep with dreams which to the world they’ll never show,
and others sleep with dreams that cover up great woe.
But there are some whose minds are dancing to-and-fro,
who find that slumber is a thing they must forego.
They rise from bed; then creeping down the hall they go
where they can put their thoughts to verse because they know
that fleeting are those thoughts which fall like flakes of snow
across their minds. To capture them they must, and so,
the shadow poets pour their hearts out! Even though
they long for sleep, they let their dreams on paper flow!
Sunday Morning
I try not to wake him, though he stirs slightly
As I crawl out from the warmth of the covers.
I'm tempted to change my mind, and stay awhile longer,
But a glint of sunlight peeks through the blind and calls to me.
If I burrow down again, and drowse too long,
This glorious time of day will be gone...until it comes again tomorrow.
I tiptoe quietly and begin the morning ritual.
The splashing of water on my face, of letting the dog out,
Of brewing the dark, hot liquid that will help to
Open my eyes and recharge my reluctant brain.
The inviting aroma finally wakes my senses, and after
The first sip, I begin to feel the desire to join the world again.
I go outside, step onto the weathered porch, down the steps,
Onto the wet grass to retrieve today's bundled news.
Within it comes a page-by-page account of disasters, obituaries and comics...
I decide to forego all that gloom, and lay the paper beside the front door.
Instead, I drink in the morning air.
The new day is slowly coming alive. There's a slight chill.
This coolness will be baked away later, when the sun is high.
I pull my robe around me tightly, and sit down on the stoop.
Birds are chirping, and soon, I see that neighbors are beginning to embrace the
day.
House by house, there is evidence that awakening has occurred.
A car is cruising by our house. The occupants, wearing their
Sunday best, and on their way to an early service to praise the Lord.
While some are sitting in pews, singing Alleluia,
A man down the street is starting his lawnmower.
Not mindful that the Sabbath is a day of rest,
Or that he may wake a late sleeper.
Inside my house, I hear the sounds of water running and dishes rattling.
Then someone calling my name. In a moment he appears
Carrying two steaming mugs of black coffee, one for him, and another for me.
He's come to see what this new day has offered, and sits down beside me.
We sit together quietly, and soak up the morning sun.
It wraps its warmth around us, like the bedcovers we had abandoned.
No words are needed to enjoy this moment.
However, toast and jam, and bacon await us. So we turn and go inside.
When the sparrow meets the long nights
webbed in the gentleness
of every beat that marks your heart;
only then will we find a faraway world coming together
as graceful leaves mix
with the branches of our souls;
for the length of time is never kind though precious--
our testament to be one
connects us through serendipitous pulses :
We may not be together,
yet we feel the same rain ,
same tears, and language unbidden. ..
Is this what long distance love is
made of?
We bind the folds of seasons
and still know how we live
in any moment of an eon--
a love made in a place called heaven's fate,
staying in touch
through deep intuition and prayer -
that we forego season's ticks, sometimes...
A hundred years may pass,
yet we know, this love infinite will bind the hues
of devotion 's thread, stronger than
the fabric of time's test.
palette of seasons
changes from neutral to bold
surpassed by love's strokes
Red, red roses, you flowers of immortal love
You first blossomed in God’s Garden for Eve
In my garden too, you bloom so bright
I tend you with love and care day and night
You gladden me all through the day
That my verse on roses before all, gleefully I lay
Amid stinging thorns and the cover of leafy green
Your frilled beauty is sometimes veiled unseen
But as the wind croons all day in your ear
Your sweet fragrance spreads in the husky air
Thus, we are drawn to your hidden presence
And come to know of your lovely existence
You appear most beautiful when budding new
Lovely you are when your petals glisten, washed in dew
My Garden serves as a therapy in stress and strain
It is there, I forget and forego all my pain
When the first rays of light fall on the flowers
And the leaves are beaded with dew drops in bowers
I get out to work in nature’s household
And it brings me returns and rewards manifold
As I pull out every unwanted weed
A bit of my grief, I am learning to set aside
Sure, the smiling flowers give me lots of cheer
And my health improves, as I inhale morn’s fresh air
Salem
_________________________________________
Unrest of spirit churns behind thy door,
the sin interned therein is quarrelsome
No "witch" that thou hast burned serves to restore
the pitch that has upturned thy moral plumb
Forego thy demons, none would be found here
Such guile belies the pleasure of the young
Until thy trials should rise of fact, not fear,
so will thy measure see the pious hung
_________________________________________
Date: 11/14/2018
Sponsor: Julia Ward
contest: Unrest of Spirit
Your lover’s drawing straws without you, better bid farewell;
he’d never time for rhyme or reason, so it’s just as well.
Slip out the curtained window quick, the future winks and calls,
ignoring paths of pagan gods, where faulty footsteps fall.
Identify faint flashbacks, cloaked and clustered in a heap
and sort out those you treasure most, you need or long to keep;
Forget about the epoch past, which wasn’t what you’d sought,
pursue instead remaining dreams before they come to naught.
Reflect no more on what it was he’d meant for you,
strike out ahead where something waits, has sent for you.
The graveyard night is haunted still, it hovers where you sleep
recalling souvenirs amassed, the ones that made you weep.
The poets poised in dungeon vaults, now growing old and bald,
retrace their palsied pleas in dust, like those that you once scrawled.
Except for runic proverbs carved on stone walls ill defined,
assumptions will not dog you that you dare to leave behind.
The fortune-tellers waiting at the moat for you
read tarot cards while setting sail a boat for you.
The road behind is empty now, the sky is painted black
so gather all the wisdom gained, no time for looking back.
Forego the prophets’ prophecies, so tempting to pursue -
although they might be asked advice, they seldom have a clue.
Reject the secrets they reveal, enveloped in their guile,
which be betrayed between the tombs in ruins of their smile.
They’re waiting with a fractured rule of thumb for you
while beating on a perforated drum for you.
A sand-glass dribbles distant dunes, the sun dial’s shadow’s late,
so now’s the time for slipping through the open swinging gate.
A joker wild defies the fools to read between the lines
in search of cryptic radiance the future world enshrines -
“the days ahead will wake again like waves before the dawn
when picking up the pieces left behind a passing pawn.”
A noble knight awaits to clear the board for you
when, soon, a cup of nectar wine is poured for you.
“Enthusiasm is nothing more or less than faith in action” – Henry Chester
Oh, glitter dreams, I had to let you go
though in my youth, you’re all that I longed for.
Faith fled when my sweet passions lost their glow.
Some plans I made fate forced me to forego.
They vanished like when tides recede from shore.
Oh, glitter dreams, I had to let you go.
One’s destiny can be a bitter foe.
It took from me my fervor to explore.
Faith fled when my sweet passions lost their glow.
When young, I never thought with age came woe.
Life taught me this when hope walked out my door.
Oh, glitter dreams, I had to let you go.
I’m older, and though wiser, dying slow.
Fate tore my wings so that I could not soar.
Faith fled when my sweet passions lost their glow.
I thank my Lord for gifts He does bestow
on me, but pray my good health He’ll restore.
Oh, glitter dreams, I had to let you go.
Faith fled when my sweet passions lost their glow.
Her grace, she moves in poetry,
Tread cobbled path of wandering heart;
She speaks in moonlight spirit,
Thine treasure chest come undune,
'Till I lose mine feathers,
Frozen by her sole divinity;
She, found to mine lost,
Twixt these street exile redefined by her golden glory,
pounding on my chamber door;
I must forego the counsel of my twisted devils,
Rise from lay 'pon this brow beaten soul;
Swell into her wonder... lift love anew!
Heaven restore mine black gloom;
Her grace, she moves in poetry,
Spilleth' over, soothing matrimony.
~JSLambert
© PoeTTreeZ Publishing
My hero is Henry David Thoreau
Rather than pay taxes, to jail he’d go
With Uncle Sam’s hand out
Thoreau turned up his snout
Refused the poll tax, voting he’d forego
An elderly woman across the street
High property taxes she could not meet
Her house went to foreclosure
Homeless, died of exposure
While the politicians live on High Street
Jonah dwelt in the belly of a whale
No taxes on such a home did prevail
But as soon as he got out
Jonah faced taxes no doubt
Moby Dick's "inner condo" is for sale
Entry for the Taxing Times contest
"Criticizing others is akin to criticizing God"
"Moment we are critical of our critic we become a critic"
Quote by Author
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Words pierce the soft heart, stay there forever
Mind recollects them oftentimes in life
Spoken words for lifelong give joy or tear
Still criticizing others is in rife
Feeling worthless, many tears often shed
depression often ends in suicide
Painful thoughts, existing as living dead
If they did the same, wouldn't it hurt your pride
You speak out of hatred, bloated ego
He who can't praise is never respected
Only if your habits you will forego,
you will receive love, help, praise and respect
For critical talks you're hated by all
All condemn, in everyone's eyes you fall
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bhagvad Gita 18.61 - The Supreme Lord is situated in everyone's heart, O Arjuna, and is directing the wanderings of all living entities, who are seated as on a machine, made of the material energy.
Matthew 7: 1-3
Judge not, that ye be not judged.
2 For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.
3 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?
25.06.2021
For Charlotte Puddifoot, Contemporary Sonnet contest
Syllable count checked at HMS
Flavors of Christmas -
eggnog, fudge and pecan pie -
I would all forego
to savor your sugared kiss
underneath the mistletoe
Dec. 21, 2019 for Bobby May's Kissing Contest
Unrequited love is shallow,
lacking depth; it cannot float dreams.
Yet, you will forego happiness
for a lifetime of silent screams.
Both tormentor and destroyer,
doubt devastates your sense of pride.
A heart that craves a love denied
will wilt and slowly die inside.
Wishes attack reality;
striking with irrational force.
Unattainable dreams fuel
frustration, anger, and remorse.
Truth defines the expectations
and anticipations of youth.
And yet, you have fallen in love,
acknowledging no other truth.
Feeling lost, nothing seems real,
drowning in tears, you cling to hope.
Yet rejected hearts tend to break;
finding it difficult to cope.
I shrivel 'neath a scorching sun,
Devoid protection for my skin,
An aching grimace, I'll show none,
Worse burning pain suppurates within.
I wander naked through the rain,
Although my body fully clothed,
This broken love ne'er to regain,
Only in dreams we join betrothed.
I trace her footsteps in the snow,
And further on discover four,
A melting tear I can't forego,
The hurt bites sharp as glinting hoar.
I ramble lonely in the wind,
And taste her breath on every gust,
The rose that on her blouse I pinned,
Dead petals fell, and blew like dust.
I fall thwarted on lush ground,
So soft the breast of mother earth,
From looming hills my cries resound,
She comforts me for all she's worth.
Dim twilight dulled the failing day,
The robin shared her even' song,
And as we went our seperate way,
I blew a kiss !.....but she was gone !
I had to find a bathroom,
A reasonable request,
I was all alone
And my bladder was quite stressed.
So I asked a man nearby,
“Do you know where a bathroom is?”
He merely shook his head,
And went about his biz.
I continued walking,
And sure enough around,
A woman with her children
Could tell me where a bathroom’s found.
She said, “I have no idea,
I’m busy you can tell.”
She fussed to shush her baby,
Who had just begun to yell.
I continued on my quest,
Moving with rapid stride,
When I found a large restaurant,
Surely, there must be a bathroom inside!
I went up to the waiter,
I said, “I really have to pee.”
Slightly irritated,
I decided to forego all pleasantry.
He said, “Oh, ours isn’t working,
Someone clogged it the day before,
But there is one a few blocks down,
About three or four.”
And so I hurried along,
Quite desperate to find the joint,
My bladder was close to reaching
Its natural breaking point.
I reached a tiny gas station,
Where the clerk mumbled to me,
“We do have an outside bathroom,
But someone lost the key.”
I turned and stomped outside,
I wailed out vehemently,
“How hard is it to find a bathroom
In modern society?”
A gentleman heard my plight,
And said, “You know, there’s a store—“
I interrupted, “Never mind,
I don’t have to go anymore.”
From the pleasure of your soul, I glow
Through starlight... a kiss, my gaze can't forego
And dawn approaches upon us to bring
Soft caress of air into me shall blow
'The darkened skies stole my tears'...to you, I cling.
Chorus:
Dearest , somehow my fervent life you hold
Breathless as my heart beguiled... takes a leap,
Then tame me now, let all demands unfold
Tame me now within an affection deep.
~
There are no longer tears, we wander sweet,
Enchanting our eve its heavenly treat--
That pulses heat when charmed laughter peals
Warmer a slow dance, my yearning complete
Tender the gaze, the kiss… our joys replete.
4th place