Best Fully Poems
Don’t waste your time with pieces,
with “almost” and “not quite.”
Life’s too sharp for half-hearted choices,
for living in the in-between.
Either speak, or stay quiet,
but never let silence be a whisper
you didn’t mean to make.
Don’t wait for the right moment
to give your whole self.
Half a truth is a lie in disguise,
and what you leave unsaid
will live louder than anything you speak.
Don’t walk halfway to a goal—
it’s just a road you’ll never finish.
Dream only what you can touch,
and hold those dreams with both hands.
There’s no room for waiting
for someone else to fill in the blanks,
no one else will show up
to finish your story for you.
A piece of love is no love at all.
Neither is a moment shared
when you’re not really there.
What’s the point of a laugh
if it’s caught halfway in your throat?
What’s a promise
if it’s never fully given?
Half a life is like a house
that never gets built,
a song that doesn’t end,
a dance with no rhythm.
Don’t just exist—
be fully present,
not a shadow of who you could be.
There’s nothing wrong with starting over,
but never start only to stop.
Don’t live in the spaces between,
but fill the room with everything
you are.
We harvested the grapes in late autumn
when ripeness of love was at its best,
but deceit in the time of maturing
changed the passion to wrath and unrest.
Acerbic vinegar replaced sweet wine
and richness of flavour ceased to be mine.
Betrayed was the pledge of a tender vine.
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Syllable count: 10-9-10-9 10-10-10
Rhyme Scheme: a b c b d d d
Novel: Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
Contest: Titles of Novels
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Placed 3rd
© paul callus ~ 10 June 2016
‘Let the honor and the money of your friend
be as dear to you as your own’*
~ speaks of friendship fully grown
____________________________________________________
*A combination-condensation of two statements
in the Talmud: Pirkey Avos 2: 15 & 17
Seduced by the selective solitudes...I pick one
I chose the 100th... amongst the sacrificial setting sun
Frost filled frozen forests...forever frowning
As my breath spreads thru the vastness...forever drowning
Tic toc tic toc...my thoughts trapped in an elliptical time
100 years of solitude... panegyrical punishment for my crime
What am I guilty of?...daring to...Love!
TITLES OF NOVELS - Poetry Contest
By nette onclaud
One Hundred Years Of Solitude ( Gabriel Marquez Garcia)
June.10.2016
My form...a mixture of alliteration, rhyme and free verse.
Rhyme scheme aabb,cc,...d
His bluest eye, oh that blue,
Like the azure sky above;
As deep as the blue ocean,
Dead eyes, fathomless.
______________________________
June 23, 2016
Poetry/Dodoitsu/Part 2- Fully Booked
Copyright Protected, ID 16-803-635-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Inspiration - "The Bluest Eye" Novel Title
For the contest, Part 2, Fully Booked
sponsor, Nette Onclaud
Third Place
Christmas celebration is not fully banned
Cheers! Governments explained to the locals:
For whatever reasons, that would be impossible
For Anyone gonna have a Street or public show
Finally, they haven't forgotten to overemphasize
To the young people, never forget, they said:
Christ is a Western deity, not a Chinese and
Christmas is a western festival, NOT our Traditional
Today is Wednesday,
and the sun rises with the certainty
of a life half-lived,
a life daring to dance on the edge
without plummeting into the abyss.
I sip my hazelnut coffee,
nutty as my long-gone mother,
pondering the balance between zeal and prudence,
the knife’s edge where dreams and sanity coexist.
In the stillness of dawn,
I hear the grass groan,
pressured by the audacity of dandelions,
their yellow faces turned toward the sky,
defiant, like a heart unafraid to love.
Finite possibilities etched in my brow,
a map of roads taken,
and those feared.
I trace them in the mirror,
wondering if today I’ll find a new path,
or merely circle the familiar.
The radio sings of a world
that sometimes feels distant,
words of number one hits
lost in translation.
Do they know this dance of ours,
the tightrope walk of living fully
without the fall?
My daily poem complete,
ink still drying,
I ask the morning, what mischief shall I seek?
Perhaps I'll flirt with serendipity,
or brush against adventure's hem.
To live to the brink,
is to court the thrill
of the unknown,
to feel the pulse of life in every vein
without succumbing to the siren song
of excess.
Today, I'll waltz with wisdom,
twirl with daring,
find the sweet spot where dreams and reason
meld into a symphony
that is my life,
played out on the strings of possibility.
What mischief shall I seek?
The kind that leaves me breathless,
yet whole,
that whispers of a life lived fully,
a life danced on the brink,
with grace,
with wild, unyielding grace.
TV has captured me fully today.
I am not struggling.
Sophie dog is loving it.
Peapod snuggled in our dual Lazy Boy heaven.
Bag of salty chips and tissues at arm’s reach.
I give Sophie gentle pats
Wondering if she notices
Her snores are loud
Lulling me toward nap-like feelings.
We will move to the couch next
To stretch out more fully
Until bed time.
Perfect winter day where school was cancelled.
Stinky-Butt crawls
like a snail and leaves a trail.
My baby brother.
.
Part 2 - Fully Booked
War and Peace
Praise the rights that all mankind
live together in sweet peace.
Damn the wrongs of bitter war...
choices...live or die.
Sandra M. Haight
~4th Place~
Contest: Part 2 - Fully Booked
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Judged: 06/25/2016
War and Peace (Leo Tolstoy)
In sentient shades of silence
The heart endures from tyrants
Love lives lachrymosely long
My heart shows its prong.
June.22.2016
PART 2, FULLY BOOKED - Poetry Contest
By nette onclaud
~compose ONE dodoitsu: 7, 7, 7,5 syl count: 4 lines
*The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter ( Carson Mc Culler)
The lovely bones are buried deep
inside the cold and black hard ground,
yet near the beast she always hangs around!
Meanwhile, her loved ones worry and they weep.
A pity they can’t know the ghost of her
now daily plagues her murderer,
because her spirit would not sleep!
Written June 11, 2016 for the TITLES OF NOVELS Contest of nette onclaud
Title used is "The Lovely Bones" (Alice Sebold)
My poetry form rhymes a/b/b/a/c/c/a.
The syllable count from line one to line seven is 8/8/10/10/10/8/8.
Destruction, devastation,
murders, mayhem, anarchy,
ravages and the ruins of wars...
Lost therein is peace.
~Part 2, Fully Booked contest by nette onclaud
~Title: War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy / 06/23/16
The person inside who you love and care for
You knowingly take it all
The good and sometimes the bad
My past, present and future
Something I never had
And all along did I ever believe someone would find my childhood memories cute?
Giving your body away to someone is simple; done every day
Without a name exchanged
But money given- we are knowingly ruled by cash
A cheating husband to the wife at home..
Wondering again what she's done wrong
Every human so corrupt, and yet
Somehow I still feel naked as I speak
But you look at me and smile, I can tell
It’s too genuine and I’m not used to this
I’m being vulnerable, but this
The silliest things it seems
Bring the feeling on, but
There’s a reason behind everything
Every feeling, every word spoken
A story behind the scarred wrist
Or the lonliness and sadness
Which brought on every tear that will ever exist
All I know is this:
When I’m alone with myself
it’s only you that I miss
This is an age old story
it could be a country song.
Some may find it enchanting
while others say it’s wrong.
I like home automation
and the feeling of control
the response to simple voice
commands seems to satisfy my soul.
I got into it slowly
but it soon got out of hand
when on a cold black-Friday
I bought an automated man.
His physique wasn’t all that defined
and I wouldn’t have called him handsome
but soon I was trolling the aftermarket
for jail-broken enhancements.
He can’t take his eyes off me,
his omelettes are the best,
and when he puts his arms around me
- he never needs to rest.
My mom appreciates him,
his work ethic has her impressed.
She has no idea how handy he is
as he helps me get undressed.
My friends say, “Wow, you look HAPPY!”
I feel I’m blooming like a flower.
I anxiously wait for him to fully charge
and we have unscheduled hours.
p.s. I write short stories too =]