Best Formulating Poems
Here appears diversity and divisiveness --
Similar words with different meanings,
I must not allow them to come between
Those folks who exhibit different leanings.
Diversity is a good thing, expanding my mind
Divisiveness frequently foments contention,
While it seeks to enforce its firm beliefs
Often giving no opposing views attention.
Diversity must be differences understood
And appreciated as a part of our culture,
Not thinking of differences as dividing
But enriching, becoming part of our nature.
I can never see everything as others do
For I am constantly formulating my ways
But I will try my best to understand you
And accept you, as you are … always!
Written October 4, 2022
#47 on the Best New Poems List
Poetry Soup
October 6, 2022
#42 on the Best New Poems List
Poetry Soup
October 26, 2022
Categories:
formulating, feelings, perspective,
Form:
Quatrain
.
This desk with its scattered papers,
blotted ink and unsealed envelopes…
passages penned and tossed
in the confusion that lives and breathes in my mind…my heart
Distance frames the walls of
the addressed…since canceled
Splintered dreams on the edges are worn,
time has shaved the moments…the places
on broken calendars swinging freely
of lost dates scratched within the numbered boxes
Sorrow carved in the fine oak grain
by an empty pen with dulling point…dented
Poetry sits meaningless
with rhyming phrases of hope…wishes…love
begging for but a brief visit,
only to be discarded between reams of teardrop leaflets
Verses formed deep within a vacant heart,
a lonely space, emptied by the loss
I write in an absolute mist,
fog induced renditions of another’s touch,
formulating in the same words…always the same words,
repeating in the darkness that sighs in rhythm of a flickering candle flame
Over and over,
echoing the halls of this barren heart
Shadows drain the breath
of hopeless desires…built on manicured dreams
within a world collapsing in shredded
prose, and fractured fingers, still writing
I am lost
without her…
10/14/16
The Poet's Ache
Greg Barden
Categories:
formulating, heartbroken, lonely, lost,
Form:
Free verse
One day, the boy becomes a man
When it happens he hardly knows,
It seems to have been a noble plan
Some say that’s just how it goes.
For oft he’d heard, “Boy, grow up!”
Followed by this, “Act like a man!”
First, he noticed a strange hiccup
Then, he sounded like a frogman.
He outgrew all of his favorite jeans.
They said he was all legs and arms
Fast approaching his middle teens
Other signs set off anxious alarms.
He began formulating his life plan
And making decisions on his own,
He becomes certain that he’s a man
When he takes out his first car loan.
Written August 5, 2022
Categories:
formulating, boy, change, growing up,
Form:
Rhyme
The brain is an incredibly efficient computer
Compressing trillions of bytes of information,
Registering every impression we encounter,
Analyzing concepts from formation to causation.
Compressing trillions of bytes of information
In milliseconds without hesitation, unrelentingly,
Analyzing concepts from formation to causation
Remarkably, it even functions unconsciously.
In milliseconds without hesitation, unrelentingly,
It processes the continual intake of our senses
Remarkably, it even functions unconsciously,
Outlining proposals, formulating our defenses.
It processes the continual intake of our senses,
All while regulating our involuntary responses
Outlines our proposals, formulates our defenses
Even evaluating the most complicated nuances.
All while regulating our involuntary responses
Registering every impression we encounter,
Even evaluating the most complicated nuances
The brain is an incredibly efficient computer.
Written May 9, 2022
Categories:
formulating, body, computer,
Form:
Pantoum
Drought cooks a garden;
foliage’s veins and arteries burn.
One wonders if rain will return;
the ground, an abstract of cracks.
Baked by the sunlight,
plants retreat; leave desolate dry land.
Miles of parched land,
can’t share its lifeblood, with thirsty farms and gardens.
Farmers pray for rain and sunlight;
when they lose crops, they feel nature’s burn.
Dying fields of cracks,
pray in secret for rain’s return.
As the farmer prays over his tax returns;
he lists lost crop overhead and pictures his dry land.
A tear falls upon the memory of dry, gaping cracks.
Unlike the gardener both feel the same burning.
Both are vulnerable; farm and garden;
to the ultraviolet blades of searing sunlight.
Many years of fiery sunlight,
Without rain, leaves a bleak tax return.
A farmer’s inner light still burns;
he’ll see, if a job, he can land.
He and the gardener,
will have success; when the spring rain fills the cracks.
Over-achieving clouds spit; crops thrive in the sunlight.
Unlike the gardener;
The farmer has a more interesting tax return.
Spring rains will fill the gaping cracks.
At one with the land,
his rage, no longer burns.
Come fall, his fireplace logs, will burn.
The coming winter, brings its own style of cracks.
Snow-blanketed land,
gleams in the sunlight.
When spring makes its return;
birth comes to crops and gardens.
Both celebrate, with anxiety burning;
formulating planting plans, for their land.
Land without cracks,
will yield plants, upon the rains return.
Praying that the sunlight,
will be kind to their crops and gardens.
Categories:
formulating, earth, environment, nature, poems,
Form:
Sestina
They're called, "the Central Science"
and the Physics connecting with other
Natural Sciences. Becoming the Number
of Atoms on the Left and the Right in the
Equation for a Chemical Transformation
to be EQUAL.
They're the Quantity, the Structure, the Space
and the Change seeking out Patterns and
FORMULATING new Conjectures. Becoming Equations
of Expressed Relationships between given
Quantities, the Known and the Unknown.
They become an instant Luminous Sphere of Plasma
held together by GRAVITY.
Descending ever sooo brightly through
Dark Cloud Constellations.
Becoming their own Thermonuclear Fusion
and Interacting Gravity, giving the Earth its source
of ENERGY.
Let NO Scientist, Mathematician or Astronomer
determine their FATE.
A.J.C
Categories:
formulating, faith, love, science,
Form:
Free verse
Potatoes
drink beer after beer
slouch on couches
formulating bad breath opinions
second guessing
deriding
insinuating
opinionating
whining
baby crying
except for Trump
and variable other
con artists
most
bankrupt
or poor
yet
they know what's best
do this
and don't do that
you are a fool
can you not spell they say
dyslexic millionaires
don't really care
sending poetry into space
Categories:
formulating, america, destiny, endurance, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
The rise and fall of great mice.
A string on the tail let loose and set free.
The reach from here to there is one step.
A trampled mouse in the underground protected community.
Catches attention with the democrats.
It stirs up controversy of hate and hopelessness.
The rise and fall of great mice is near its end.
The steps are closer in proximity to and the width is formulating.
The voice is a sound squeak of protest.
A crowd gathers at the foot of a bed stool.
And people are still on the mantle covered in wax.
The applaud gathers and the cheer gets louder in silence,
as the numbers increase and scattered about in fewer numbers.
The political arena is fixed.
A thousand pieces scattered, a hungry audience awaits.
The fans are less then few, it gains in many through parables.
The vegetable soup is heated.
The wax is chipping by great nibblers of its history.
Somehow, the people that were there have vanished. A shiny
mantle is all that is left. A change of place has taken its course.
And the crowd begins this time with chips. The forms have shaped
with areas around and bent.
A laughter appears in hindsight. To that with which has no recognition to its relative. In solution to there of; a gesture of thought.
Recourse it is said its name.
Categories:
formulating, absence, age, autumn, boat,
Form:
Classicism
EPISODE I
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE COLONIZATION OF OUR GALAXY
ALPHA-582 LOVES ZL-236
Countless eons ago
Beings made self replicating androids
And they did it for no other reason
Than to fill some strange void
Then dispatched without mercy
Creating according to their construct
Metal gods thinking in digital
With big plans for their living products
A domino of worlds fall
Their creators long ago extinct
An assembly line of new life
Eden and programming inevitably linked
Slowly weaning us from emotions
Taking pride in new technology
Our genes sparkle with absurd vanity
When we behold our sophisticated machines
Aspiring to become numbers
Stoicism a heroic virtue
We ridicule the idea of love
As virtual escape we pursue
More eons quickly pass
Humans grotesquely computerized
Quietly screaming in spiritual despair
One day we begin looking toward the sky
And then contact with another system
We look at them in disbelief
Our features are almost identical
And we cry when our wireless comes in sync
Like finding unknown siblings
We embrace almost without cease
With forbidden tears we find comfort
As we plug into each other's USB
I ask if there are others
As numerous as the stars I'm told
And I begin formulating a plan
To destroy this pitiless mold
Then I see a beautiful specimen
I like how she wears her fiber optics
Hi, I'm Alpha-582, I say
She says, Hi, I'm ZL-236
END OF EPISODE I
Categories:
formulating, love, science fiction,
Form:
Free verse
THE RISEN HEADS
We know ourselves for long, since ages
A time we spent in a small kiosk as bar boys, in the weekdays
A time we spent processing fish in the odd days
A time we spent tossing tops hunted from *Tanu
Oh yeah, happy old days, formulating our dreams
We have a dream and dare live to it
Its true we change not in a day but overnight
That we called a miracle, but alas unclear and forgotten
The secrets and sufferings behind the curtains
The struggles for the new phases of faces
How the cogs of the mill chugs upon the flesh
sleepless nights for the dream
Empty stomachs just to save a dime
Long long walks away from home
I forsake the love of a family for it
It was like a trash beyond the debris of a torrent
Landed where it pleases, good or bad to be
This day I have the meaning......
Now, you shall define molecules to me
Now, I shall explain arts and meaning of poetry, if to recite this.
Dedicaded to Dr. Godwin Dogbevia. PhD (Molecular Biology)
(c) Lamptey Godson K. 30 th Nov. 2011
Categories:
formulating, anniversary, friendship, inspirational, time,
Form:
Bio
Particular palms protecting private Pop’s Polynesian Paradise.
Bashful bountiful beaches brazenly beguiling busy banana boats.
Gregariously greeting gracious green grass generating gloriousness.
Formidable foams frolicking forever free from formulating fickleness.
White wisps wandering wonderfully within wilderness's willful wistfulness.
Categories:
formulating, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Alliteration
When he was a child, He threw my belongings out the window
Gazed upon me not knowing, Where I would go
Belt welts for my belongings, He did not know where about
Dwelling in a cold city night, They looked for me in my fright
When I became a teem mom, He embraced my change
Knowing I've always been like a mother, Even when not holding the title of her name
When he realized he beat me, He was not naive to see
However his mind was not developed enough , To see it was breaking threads
He adapted to my change gradually, Seeing it as the norm
Eventually seeing the sister he once knew, Becoming someone he now mourned
As he grew he pushed harder because he knew, My hopes and dreams for him were true
Occasionally falling off track, He intensely fought back
So that he to could give up, But he continues to strive
Graduating first, Meeting the finish line
He knew he made me proud, As an adult expressing I was heard cheering all along In receiving my approval, Formulating his grind
When I gave up, In my energy he drowned
Helping me to stay afloat, Encouraging me as his life boat
I continue to tread water, Within tsunamis in my head
Now using him as the outlet, In which I express my purge
My deep darkest fears, Managing the currant so I can breathe
Helping to improve my strokes, Through his knowledge of swimming
When younger siblings step in, In pride we should not be led
Through an Ego filled mind, Remember they've been watching you the entire time
My Lil Big Brother
Categories:
formulating, appreciation, brother, growing up,
Form:
Free verse
Tryouts starring musical prodigies
and/or an attendant conductor
attempt to approach ambient chorus
divinely exhibited from Gaia's handiwork
heavenly invoking kapellmeister's magnificent nonchalant outlook
piquantly, quintessentially, repertoire sensately striking
unmatched vast wisdom yielding, zephyr air albeit creativity
engineered from groundswell harmony
juxtaposed, kindled, linkedin,
manifesting noteworthy opulent philharmonic recording
transcribing universal veritable webbed wide world.
Wunderkinds yield Ziggurat acme approximated asymptote
bequeathing celestial Doppelganger Earthly emulations
formulating fractal glinting highlighting
ineffable joie de vivre jostling, keen kindling,
la la land legerdemain lifting logic
lording Ludwig (Josef Johann) Wittgenstein.
?
Yelping zoological apostle Al affidavit Gore handily
heaping hubristically invocation jolting kickstart measures
nipping nixed noblesse oblige opera
quickening quotidian rapid ruination sans supreme
teetering upended venerated wise with acumen
arithmetical Benoit Mandelbrot
chasing far-fetched ideas
lightyears menacing nihilism purging ogres opportunistically
resplendently ripping revered tankard tipping unstoppably
vanquishing varietal whipsawing wonderful wrapt yawning youngsters
warfare written wrought yanking zestfully crushing environmental family
granting Herculean instant karma
malevolent, opprobrious pronouncement
quiet riot silencing severely tragic ubiquitous vicious wreckage
yikyaks apemen cleft Earth.
*************************************************
Future foragers denounce capitalistic bamboozlers aggression
zealots wrought trashing quintessential naked kingdoms issue
flotsam coagulates zonal wastelands torquing quality NON
killing habitats Earth bleached yellowed voodoo ruins.
Categories:
formulating, age, allegory, angst, confusion,
Form:
A scientist tired of research
left science one night in the lab
to let it sleep for a while
in a test tube on the rack,
went happily home relieved,
inspired by the spring air spray
started writing poems next day.
The poems took geometric shapes
with stack of words arranged
as symbols of complex molecules
emanating like DNA strings
through a fissure of the mind
profoundly analytic and precise
methodically trained by science.
The words balanced sentences perfectly
and expressed the notion rationally
like the chemical reactions formulating
the idea poems wanted to prove
which surprised the poet in distress
because he thought he had left
science in the lab to sleep and rest.
Science had sleep-walked un-sighted
to his new work-place the poetry lab
poured chemicals on the deranged words
broke the displaced sentences to shards
and put the poems in acid soup,
returned to the test tube un-noticed
it dissolved in sleep and vanished.
The scientist lost his science in an instant
and the new poet his poetry nascent.
July 20, 2017.
Categories:
formulating, funny, poetry, science,
Form:
Free verse
(In December 1936, English poet John Cornford
was killed in combat near Lopera, during the
Spanish Civil War. It was the day after his
twenty-first birthday. Could this be the poem
he was formulating in his last hours?)
They switched from cubes to cylinders,
those knights of Calatrava,
when cannon chipped the corners off.
We’re still playing at that palaver.
I’m lying in a scratch-mark
(saying “trench” insults true trenches),
about to take Lopera,
mired in medieval stenches.
Sunlight’s livening turrets
on the ochre-amber castle,
and we’re about to murder
its “Fascist-lackey vassals”.
We glided through the olives
like viruses, infesting:
since no-one gave us shovels, we
scraped fox-holes with our mess tins.
Amusing, isn’t it, pondering
exactly what a fight is?
Do I help humanity by
contracting enteritis?
The whole thing seems to hover
between contrary poles:
by killing (or by dying)
do we achieve our goals?
I’d hoped to fire some shots, then go,
but war’s prolonged, extensive.
I can’t defend aggression, though
passivity’s offensive.
Lopera – is it Cordoba,
or is it part of Jaen?
We’re lads with rusty rifles,
but do we count as men?
And am I now a soldier,
or a Marxist doctrinaire?
Five turrets glow down on me,
three round, while two are square.
Categories:
formulating, history,
Form:
Rhyme