Best Garners Poems
My mortality,
I once deemed far away
For I was young and strapping
But winds of time cause thinking to sway
Bringing thoughts to bear of my eternal napping.
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TOM WRIGHT
Brother Larry,
When young, mortality,
Scarcely garners many passing thoughts,
But winds of time metamorphoses our thoughts
From what was, and is, into what will be.
The greatest decision we are called upon to make in life
Is the acceptance or rejection of Jesus.
This determines where our eternal sleep will be.
You did a superb job at Sister Irene’s funeral
A job that we could never have done;
Hence the reason that God gave differing talents.
We pray that everyone in attendance
Has taken a hard look at their life.
We are so proud and thankful
For the young man that you have become,
And feel privileged to call you our nephew.
God Bless you and your family
In all that the Lord leads you to do.
My skin prickles, hair on my arm
flag-raised.
Quite peculiar, actually, someone
or something, is watching me.
I recalculate my senses, dusting off
pre-conceived notions of paranoia.
Across the room, a dull thud garners
my attention. Searching, I discover a
doorstop has simply tipped over, quite
impossible, I conjecture!
I pick it up and feel a distinct burning!
it's hot to the touch!
Dropping the fiery doorstop, I hear an
otherwordly chuckle emanate from
somewhere above me, reloading my
sense of apprehension.
Not to be ill-prepared, I crouch in a
defensive position, peering this way and
that, ready to defend who knows what.
I turn to evacuate the premises,
and come face to face with a grinning
disembodied head!
Punching my way through the
phosphorous face,
I escape!
Wakening
From
My
Dream
02/15/14
© All Rights Reserved
Swift bee, the gilded messenger of bliss,
Begirt with golden stars of Heaven’s span,
What draws you to the clover’s gentle kiss?
Sweet nectars, that the strongest drinker can
Carouse with dreams and dizzy waves of sleep,
Or mocks the freshest breath of summer’s clime?
Swift bee, a flame-plumed star of black and gold,
Why do you with your mouth, completely reap
The liquors that each golden bud does hold,
And lulls with somnolence the might of time?
Oh, bee, you spread the tufted pollen clouds
Like nebulae of opal stars crossways
The delicate, soft digitalis crowds,
Which passionately garner sunbeam rays
Within their coral shells. I can’t express
How much your toil’s worth to coming spring,
And how so passioned glide your wings around
The purple, gentle harebell’s loosened dress,
And make, through pretty hums, spring’s hopeful sound
Oft too profaned by your most fearsome sting!
Oh, pretty hummer! Hearty worker! Bee!
I see you roaming round the garden’s bend,
Where sweet, white daisies wreathe a canopy,
And make you but a hearty, cheerful friend.
Swift bee, the aching, swollen heart of mine
Desires comfort where pain knows no ruth
The buds hold, like rich garners golden grain,
Ambrosia of the gods, dream’s honeyed wine
So bring and let dear bee, such moisture stain
My lips and warm my heart with spring’s bright youth!
© 2014 Gleb Zavlanov
Villanelle: Stringent laws only serve to constrict the heart to hate
For all Eric Garners who went down breathless
Stringent laws only serve to constrict our hearts to hate
“Nur wenn das Herz erschlossen Dann ist die Erde schön”
Put the blame on Bushmen genes which wandering mutate
Yea put the blame on the Maker too for making world rotate
Way we’re all made contend we not for the one an’ same bone
Stringent laws only serve to constrict our hearts to hate
Some people who on this earth set foot much too late
Still hope to displace take and hold on to what others earn
Put the blame on Bushmen genes which wandering mutate
Those who love to lick the chokehold sweat mostly gravitate
To the force that arms preserve till eternity burns in urn
Stringent laws only serve to constrict our hearts to hate
All that happens be it not the changes wrought by climate
If the winds just blew one single way will none ever moan
Put the blame on Bushmen genes which wandering mutate
Everything happens way it does to keep from kicking planet
Sans white or black beauty nor butt we’ll all die of boredom
Stringent laws only serve to constrict our hearts to hate
Put the blame on Bushmen genes which wandering mutate
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
The honeybee; the maid of flowers:
Selflessly she toils for hours,
filling up her pollen stores---
never grumbling at her chores.
Sips of nectar keep her strong
as she labors all day long,
pollinating field and arbor,
and making honey in her larder.
Humble as her kind may be,
their loss would be a tragedy.
The earth would shed a mournful tear,
were honeybees to disappear.
The cockroach is a great success,
a paragon of hardiness.
It serves no queen and tends no hive;
its sole concern is to survive.
And this it does---to our chagrin:
Wherever we home, it settles in---
to feed and breed at our expense,
exploiting without recompense.
A champion at adaptation,
it garners no appreciation:
Were cockroaches eradicated,
their absence would be celebrated.
Two species doing what they do best:
The one a friend, the other a pest;
one a blessing, one a blight:
Worker by day or scourge by night.
According to its occupation,
each kind has earned its reputation.
Consider, now, society:
Are you a cockroach, or a bee?
PASSION UNFETTERED
There is a force within a few that stands aloof,
Jealously gazing at the eyes of lovers brimming with expectation,
But something stays frozen-- in disjointed time,
Afraid if the precocity of love is brilliantly returned.
The truly beloved err,
Like a force of nature
the sweetness will be drained from the soul,
Leaving a husk
Withering
Never to be regenerated.
If this tale of passion is true
We are helpless toys of
a fickle god….
Who garners
passing amusement orchestrating loss.
If the action of love proves untrue,
The Lovers are simply actors .
Mouthing empty lines,
Doomed are all to eternal isolation.
Warily venture.
the Blundering Hopeful
Spiral dizzily from elation,
Soul Splayed --
Adhered naked to the sullen earth
Held by invisible stakes of humiliation and discontent.
Alert for independent action
Survivors swathed in stealth
Endure silent screaming nights--
Appear Sleepless and Vacant.
(but in truth, they are in constant vigilance—)
Seeking the moment when a slash in time
Will offer unknown hope
Unfettered
Escape
At last--
And free to fly
V. Anderson-Throop 2014©
On a moonlit rendezvous,
feelings merge and interlace.
And like a creamy toffee,
sweethearts meld as they embrace.
Love garners sweet candied dreams
from reality's mirage.
And hungry, compliant lips,
share a gummy bear massage.
Sweet, sugar-coated wishes
morph into chocolate hearts.
And make peppermint kisses,
scrumptious as honey-dipped tarts.
A confectionery treat,
love is something you treasure.
For its indulgence brings such
extraordinary pleasure.
no designed gem creation
gathers my stunned elation like earth's jangling flirtation
of dazzling rain drops forming on a green leaf foundation -
a pertly dancing sensation
garners my soul's ovation
Poems from the heart I encounter with blissful delight
Offering vicarious insights in this welcoming global poetry site
Exposing myriad realities expressed in artistic might
Taking my empathy prowess to the next level of sensitivity-height
Reviving my poetic soul to express what’s right in the light
Yes, I’m thankful to God for PS ad the privilege to write!
Seeing my poems published is indeed an extraordinary blessing
Opportunities for faith-growth drives poetic accelerator increasing
Up I mount toward poem-contribution with mentor-poets’ appraising
Pursuit for craft-honing, along word-skill harnessing
Endeavoring to learn in this community, I keep on pressing
Refreshed with fellow-soupers' posts, delightfully pleasing.
Elated am I every time my entry poem garners a place
X-rays of judges keep me poetically fit in the race
Propelled to prevail along N/A (nice always) cheerful days
Enlivened by words, penned with life’s breath-grace
Ready for corrections I regard as worthy praise.
In Poetry Soup, I’m nourished with good comments’ bounty
Empowered likewise to assert truth upheld by biblical certainty
Nursed readily by prayer against attacking distress and anxiety
Cheered up to enjoy life amidst buffoonery masks’ dainty
Enriched to share poems’ wisdom, precious throughout eternity!
Acrostic with rhyme
*Deuteronomy 27:3 And thou shalt write upon them all the words of this law, ...which the LORD thy God giveth thee, a land that floweth with milk and honey; as the LORD God of thy fathers hath promised thee.
May 15, 2018
3rd place, "New Poets Only" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet; judged on 6/12/2018.
In times of transition, as we walk a tightrope of hopelessness, the shadow comes to claim us.
The shadow descends, reminding us that there is no way out of the endless darkness.
The shadow screams at the top of its lungs, “there is no hope my child.
Your destiny is to wander in dark places with quenchless thirst for a new beginning.”
The shadow surreptitiously insinuates itself into every aspect of our perception.
The shadow ensures that when trials come they descend like an avalanche,
And we feel like the darkness is infinite and that all things begin and end in suffering.
But all shadows need light to accent their darkness.
There can be no shadow without light.
And while a shadow is delimited by shape and form, light is endless and eternal.
There can be no shadow without light, and the light from which the shadow garners strength is endless and eternal.
I do not express this through emotion or inspiration, as my emotions are buried beneath the debris of depression’s languid odor.
All I sense and smell, all I feel or see is darkness enveloping me in the deception of the shadow.
But there is a knowledge of light that cannot be vanquished.
And it is with this knowledge that I declare that all shadows must eventually succumb to the light which begets them.
And this light is wondrous and glorious.
This light is more than enough to lift me to the sky and beyond.
And so I say, even in the grips of hopelessness, that light is the truth of all things and this light has claimed me.
Transfixed by the thunderstorm of raining thorns
I taste the violet vapor that rises as smooth spirit
while my sensitive gaze garners generations of grief,
for those that follow the Savior must suffer like the Savior
and so they shall, feel the iron of violent institutions
their sacrifice will be spectacular
amid emperors and paupers alike,
on my seat of Delphic dreams
divine light washes my fertile face
blond tresses wave from under the hood
of my cobalt cloak, my lap draped in glowing gold,
I hold unborn history in my hand,
my cherubs exhaust themselves
on the years foreshadowed...
J.A.B.
Boys or girls matters not
Birth is a divine gift.
Blissful in every way,
Blessed by their parent's love,
Breast fed garners good health.
Beaming faces bless us...
Bringing us happiness.
8-15-16
Pleiades B Sponsor Kim Merryman
(1.)
Where Green Forests Wrap Desirous Land
Across the midnight divide in a shroud,
this soul sails upon glistening gold wings.
There with vanity and what pride allowed,
my seeking heart wanders along and sings.
Beneath snow covered summit my joy shouts
where green forests wrap the desirous land.
To find me, hire the greatest Native scouts
for I move on with the animal band.
Near to the sweetest flowing river's banks
each morn, I rise to give eternal praise.
Give this, my Native American thanks,
escaped I, from dark cities wretched haze!
Deep in that huge divide my spirit dwells,
no longer enduring man's living hells.
Robert J. Lindley, 3-13 2016
Sonnet, ( Remembering where the wolf prowls and the panther hunts )
Native American blood speaks.
100 words..
(2.)Saddest Blues Flow Through Winter's Icy Frame
Saddest blues flow through winter's icy frame
Even when its cold winds no longer chill.
Sure, white snow at Christmas garners great fame
Oft forgetting blizzards God's creatures kill.
Horrible sights seeing, hard frozen scenes
Realizing death travels in its breath.
Bitter truth, I found in my early teens
When my puppy escaped and froze to death.
Yes, I was far too young to understand
Winter is Nature, as death to living.
When seeing, ice frozen across the land
Heart yearning for Springs new, greener givings.
That moment, those sad blues are tossed away
Anticipating Spring's first warm green day.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-25-2016
Sonnet, ( Looking at Winter In a Different Light )
100 words
Poetry to me is a very beautiful thing,
It’s about your identity and community,
About friends, family and kind feeling,
And it’s about how you place in society.
It reflects upon your sexual partners,
References them as your mind’s pivot,
What love’s base is, about its garners,
And what should be loves fine ingot.
It explains sociology, culture and trends,
Shows your diversity, admits your choices,
Specifies any displacement for kind amends,
Any disorientation for your readers’ voices.
I believe poetry can just be for yourself,
For your own edification and collection,
Because if by it you identify as an elf,
You won’t be defined as uncanny deviation.
Indeed, deviation does not exist in poetry,
Nor does it form the reason for its writing;
Poetry embraces honesty, love and sobriety,
With an imagination where truth is flying.
The credibility of poetry goes unquestioned,
Because if you lie by it, you’ll feel the traction,
It always takes you seriously unreasoned,
Never disqualifying a difficult emotion.
Your awkward emotions are disquisition, code,
Eagerness and enthusiasm are their reception;
Sociology by it can become your chatting mode,
And politics can become your injuring person.
Poetry as a literary art is fructuous with stance,
Offering a handshake to any from a dumb;
Sets alight concepts and feelings to enhance,
Lives that may otherwise be under the thumb.
A trip that’s many, many miles
Is worth it if it garners smiles
When you’ve arrived at long, long last
Despite the hours that have passed.
For if that traveling has brought
You to a place where joy is wrought,
Then that resulting fellowship
Proves how worthwhile was your trip.
So many people never roam,
Preferring just to stay at home;
But when you let your boundaries grow,
You’ll reap rewards, more than you know.