Best Generally Poems
Mirabelle orb ascends,
under clementine and pomegranate skies.
Absent,
in delight of daylight.
Eyes set adrift in dawning daydreams.
Calm heart is an oceanic concerto,
flowing along sapphire tones.
Deep breaths walk upon water,
caressed by Poseidon's piano keys.
Pulsating palpitations beat eloquent echoes,
rousing freely along rhythmical ripples.
Searching for symphonic serenity -
composition of waves, amicably,
pave a path towards destiny.
Hope vibrates like Apollos's lyre and lute strings,
as winds whistle lost tunes from Athena's flute.
Melodies of the silent sea summon torpid tides,
as desire merges in harmony with the harbour -
passionately embracing barren shores.
Aroma of dusk's dew cools in night's velvet sheen,
as sinking sun is submerged into the deep blue sea.
Sprinkling of pearls appear - their reflection
shimmering upon watery midnight blue stillness.
In silent clarity of blackness,
flowing footfalls of fate purify -
awakening mind from its reverie.
The Silent One
6 September 2020
Mirabelle - a plum, also known as mirabelle prune or cherry plum, is a cultivar group of plum trees of the genus Prunus. It is believed that the plum was cultivated from a wild fruit grown in Anatolia.
Poseidon, in ancient Greek religion, god of the sea (and of water generally), earthquakes, and horses.
Apollo has been recognized as a god of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the Sun and light, poetry, and more. His two musical instruments were the lute and the lyre.
Athena was a talented flute player, as she created it, but others ridiculed her when she played due to her cheeks. In disgust, she threw away the flute and said whoever picked it up and played it would be severely punished.
In Our Blindness, Chalked Up To Just Be Fate
Life, its complexity truly astounds
astounds this old soul so sadly earthbound
earthbound but not without imagined flight
flight into blue heavens's glimmering night.
Night of ill winds that beggars disbelief
disbelief of blindness that brings dark grief
grief of those lost, dying with no recourse
recourse from disease of war's killing force.
Force spilling blood, war's sad barbaric score
score of flesh and bones, as death demands more
more as heaping mounds of worthless refuse
refuse this world considers of no use!
Life, horrors often born of man's dark hate
Hate's dark blindness, chalked up to just be Fate!
Robert J. Lindley, 11- 21-2019
Chained Sonnet, ( War, Its Savagery And Its Bloody Costs)
( Where Peace And Beauty Can Be Shattered In An Instant)
Perfect 100 words hit...
Syllables Per Line:10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words::::: 100
Chained Sonnet definition:
Chained Sonnet ( or linked sonnet), is a sonnet that uses the poetic device of chaining.
The elements of the Chained sonnet are:
1. the verse is written in any sonnet form.
2. chained when the end word of the previous line is the first word of the next line.
3. flexible, at the poet's discretion, to bring the sonnet full circle the first word of the sonnet is the last word of the sonnet.
Pasted from http://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/forums/topic/1053-chained-sonnet/
Thanks to Judi Van Gorder for the resource at Poetry Magnum Opus Site.
## Note::Classified as “Gadget” Sonnet, as they have refrain, or have construction or length requirements
which fall outside of the “standard” sonnet area, which generally vary only in meter, line-length,
rhyme pattern or volta requirements. Reference:: http://poetscollective.org/everysonnet/gadget-sonnets/
Source: http://forums.familyfriendpoems.com/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=130578
I live on an island in the Pacific region
The largest body of water is the OCEAN
Like, can we be more Pacific?
I think Christopher Columbus got lost
Because the directions were not pacific
Oh, excuse me, the Pacific Ocean
Where you will find the small islands (micronesia)
Where you will find the black islands (melanesia),
Where you will find the many islands (polynesia)
Generally, the islanders are like coconuts
So hard on the outside
But succulent on the inside
Yet they always end up wanting Samoa
Get this,
An assault by an Islander
is called a Hawaiian Punch
At times, these islands need a therapist when they are in a tropical depression
Some islands have sunk
Oh no do not laugh
That is not funny atoll
Sea yourself out
Therefore, I live on an island
A small island
I am a MICRO
I mean, how can I get more pacific than that?
Over The Horizon, Dedicated To Andrea
Beyond normal sight and imagination
Tho' perhaps a dear new sensation.
Hidden rainbows kiss blue skies
shall we issue cries?
Love begs not
Lies
to thus blot
out what truth decries
as life's greedy little tries
to dismiss such new titillations.
Beyond normal sight and imagination.
Robert J. Lindley, 10-02-2021
Form: Andaree-
Thanks given unto my friend Andrea
For gifting us this truly brilliant new poetry form.
This my first ever writing with this new form dedicated
to its immensely talented and massively gifted creator.
Mine is not displayed - as centered.
Note: - Form: Andaree
It is syllabic, with lines of 11/9/7/5/3/1/3/5/7/9/11
Rhyme Scheme: AabbcbcbbaA
It requires a Refrain: Line 1 is repeated as Line 11.
Generally displayed centered.
Note: Had to list it as "Rhyme", instead of its correct list of "Andaree".
Which PoetrySoup has no current listing for.
"Fragments and crumbs of life,
all the little pieces"
John Ruskin 1853
Having lived with our Mom in Sydney for six months
Federal Police returned us to live with our father
He had begun working as the art teacher
at a small Christian school in Tasmania
He and other staff members lived at the school.
I was 8, my sister 6. Geneva was experimental then.
Elementary students were taught together in one hall.
Desks divided from next, talk was completely disallowed.
An American curriculum called ACE was adhered to.
As the art teacher's daughter, naturally I washed all the brushes.
Three utterances compiled in class per day earned detention.
Despite it being 1991, rulers whapped knuckles on occasion.
Cherished butterfly catching buddy, best friend, Penny
Fed apples from ample pile to fence wire necked horses
Dawn saluting dairy sold milk for locals, chapel on site
Peers lived a wall away, an idyllic community lifestyle
Generally, three afternoons per week, my father took
My sister on playground, shopping outings.
I stayed home. Instructed not to go outside.
Staff's children grassy antics gazed at through glass.
I ate vitamin c tablets by the dozen, and scrapings of butter.
A staff member bought all our groceries from a limited list.
I sang for company. There was no radio or TV.
My Dad and sister returned at nightfall. Chewing on sweets.
Alone in the house, I imaged it was a cruising ocean vessel
I sailed down the dim driveway, swamped by giant pines
I took apples, a cow, a Bible, pencils for sketching horses
Sailing on jaunty sun hugged foliage, I was captain
'Geneva Has Evolved'
Constance La France
All The Little Pieces Contest
25th August 2020
Have you heard of Fisher Folk
Masked and disguised
Often difficult to see
When in front of your very eyes
Some will see through the disguise
Once engaged in conversation
Others will never see a Fisher Folk
Blinded by their manipulation
Fisher Folk do not fish
In waterways of any kind
They only fish in ones psyche
Fishing…. human minds
Fishing information, only for personal gain
Needing constant compliments and praise
This is how Fisher Folk
Spend their devious, “its all about me” days
Also known as “Me People”
And other choice names
Pretending to show interest in you
When ‘Self ‘ is the name of their game
Some will never see a Fisher Folk
Being blinded by their camouflage
Others will see straight through it
Quickly seeing the mind sabotage
Fisher Folk are generally likeable
Often intelligent , charismatic ,smart
Though their interest in others is inauthentic
Not from a genuine or loving heart
Now Christmas in July seems crazy - I’m sure I hear you say
That has got to be plain silly - but this is the Aussie way
Christmas is in December you insist it’s a well-known fact
But in this land way ‘Down Under’ our seasons are ‘out of whack’
July is Aussie winter while in December it's scorching hot
Those Three Wise Men may know the reason but then again maybe not!
A time for relaxing with family and friends spreading the good cheer
Sip a glass of Lilly Pilli wine or toast with a VB beer
Frosty Christmas in December - for some it seems so right
Tinsel and baubles festooned - Oh what a delightful sight
Presents around the Christmas tree decked with lights and holly
Cheery little Santa’s look so happy and so jolly
In December air-cons turned cold mimicking our winter in July
When Santa rode his sleigh down south to Oz coming from the land up high
With a Ho Ho Ho he now powers his jet ski - riding mighty waves
He coasts straight onto our golden sands joining parting people and raves
Remember my friends it is a time filled with Peace and Joy
To commemorate the Special Birth of a Baby Boy
Worry not friends we don’t miss out on all that wintry good cheer
For you see folks here in OZ - Christmas always comes twice a year
Author’s Note:
'Christmas in July', which is also known as Yulefest or Yuletide in Australia. July is generally the coldest month of winter, so celebrations emulate the atmosphere of the northern hemisphere winter. So that means hearty food like roasts, and warm drinks in front of fireplaces and bonfires. Don’t be alarmed folks! – Just for the record, here in Oz we have a second helping and do celebrate Christmas on 25th December with the rest of the world.
~‘out of whack’ - An Aussie term for ‘Out of Sync’~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Synopsis from the composer of the song and clip -
"The Aussie Christmas Song" by Batesy. Published on Dec 18, 2012
‘One Christmas eve I was singing carols about dashing through the snow & a white Christmas and thought "Aussies don't have snow at Christmas" and it was also 30 degrees outside, so The Aussie Christmas Song was born, it's about sun, sand, backyard cricket, pavlova, and a cold beer - Ah!! - Sing along!!!’
i dont ask for alot out of this world
just enough to bet by
im not trying to be a multi millionaire
just looking for a small peice of the pie
not trying to buy a great big castle
a simple house will do just fine
and maybe i dont need a limo
just a car that i can call mine
and all of that gold and jewelery
dont have to be hanging around my neck
as long as i can afford to pay my bills
and hold my head up with respect
i've never been that picky
i generally take what i can get
i just hate to be stressed
by living from check to check
forget about the jones's
who cares how they live
i'm just trying to keep my head above water
and not worrie about paying my next bill
and all the fame who needs
to be reconized everywhere they go
i just need to feel loved
by the few people i know
as long as i can afford the things i need
and feel everythings going to be alright
that's all it really takes for me
im ok with the simple life
I was reminiscin' the other day about times that were more sublime,
And got to thinkin' about those old stores called Kresge's Five and Dime.
I recall browsin' through Kresge's Stores as a lad with Mom and Dad.
There ain't no more Kresge's Stores as far as I know and that is very sad.
There was a Kresge's in every sleepy town along Main Street.
Sittin' on a stool at the lunch counter was always a special treat.
Munchin' on a hotdog and tater chips and then a slab of cherry pie,
Or maybe a sundae concocted by the soda jerk would lighten up my eye!
Notions galore were displayed on tables, bins, racks and shelves.
Friendly clerks stood by to help but folks generally helped themselves.
The cashier put yer money in a tube that sailed off into space,
And in a trice returned yer change from some mysterious place!
I recall the squeaky wooden floors and visitin' the store at Christmas time,
When Santa Claus doled out bags of candy to kids at each Five and Dime.
Alas, those neighborhood stores have been replaced by huge national chains,
And only pleasant memories of Kresge's Five and Dime Stores remains.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
The Old River Bridge
There’s an old river bridge outside my hometown.
I wonder if they’ll ever tear it down.
It’s always been a part of me
And it’s anchored in my reverie.
It’s stood many years of use and wear
From all those travelers going somewhere.
And its silhouette I will never forget
Like it was built with a giant erector set.
I think of cars I’ve crossed it in
And filed some memories deep within.
When going home it was generally known
As you crossed the bridge you were a mile from home.
Roads and oceans and mile high skies
Took me to many a travelers’ prize.
From seaside to some mountain ridge –
Nothing compares to that old river bridge.
Though I’ve traveled far this wide world o’er
My mind drifts back to days of yore.
And I feel my childhood each time I see
That old river bridge in front of me.
Written by John Posey
10/28/13
Below a Douglas Fir tree one beautiful moonlit night
I sat there with my Missy as we viewed a lovely sight
The aurora borealis was lighting up the sky
Then something to my right suddenly caught my eye
A gem from outer space tore across the cobalt blue
Leaving behind a trail a quite spectacular view
Two in trapped capture witnessing a shooting star
We wonder where it came from, out there from afar
We sat there for ages chatting about the sight we seen
Phenomena such as this are generally seen in dreams
Below the Douglas Fir tree that beautiful moonlit night
We marvelled at it's arrival as it disappears from sight
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-13.php
I have been called a sex god
It has been said that
I radiate an aura of pure sexuality
I stopped telling my friends stories of my exploits years ago
Because they don't believe me
For instance
My last lover was a 54 year old paraplegic actress
I once gave a girl dozens of orgasms within a single minute
And can reproduce this feat at any time on any woman
Every inch of my body is fantastic
Like a machine fine-tuned for sexual pleasure
My sex drive is monstrous
Unending
Makes me crazy
I only stop to smoke cigarettes once every few hours
And I don't have a refractory period
All this is true
I'm probably a nymphomaniac
But it doesn't matter
Because I hate people
Because I hate dating
Because I have nothing to prove
Because the cosmos are indifferent
Because economizing sex disgusts me
I'm generally quiet
Try to keep a low profile
But inside
a Martian sex dragon
Breathing passion and lust
Inside
Roaring madly alone, tortured
Clawing at my skin
Chomping on my bones
Gnashing on my brain like a chew toy
I pretend not to care
I like to think it doesn't have an affect on me
But it is me
And I hate it
And I love it
Afloat I am,
The blind horizon spreads to no end.
O river of rivers,
The queen river,
Flow as you wish,
Gather silt forever
That on your shores
Men may harrow, then sow
The seeds of happiness
And sorrow to grow.
Afloat I am,
The blind horizon spreads to no end.
Hilsa leaps at the moon,
How wondrously they blend!
Hilsa leaps at the moon,
How wondrously they blend!
O river of rivers,
The starry river,
Your blinking waves drum
Of Behula's shiver.
I too am lost,
The tattered merchant fool,
My peacock barge rides
Fate's whirlpool.
Hilsa leaps at the moon,
How wondrously they blend!
When the whistling wind wakes
All courage is pretend.
When the whistling wind wakes
All courage is pretend,
O river of rivers,
The wise river.
Who would speak for us?
If not you, may be never.
Yet the mountains rise
From the hearths' ash,
You are silent, while
The history is brash.
When the whistling wind wakes
All courage is pretend.
Heaven's horn blares slender silver
For whom to comprehend?
Heaven's horn blares slender silver
For whom to comprehend?
O river of rivers,
The hungry river,
The consort of Ruin.
An arrow in Falguni's quiver.
The infinite wasteland beckons
Hold onto heart's dream,
One more sun above
Anguish and scream.
Heaven's horn blares slender silver
For whom to comprehend?
Afloat I am,
The blind horizon spreads to no end.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Form: Bhatiali
Date: 19 / 11 / 2016
Bhatiali is a form of folk music native to Bangladesh and Bengal. There is no place for Taal (a term used in Indian classical music for the rhythmic pattern) in pure bhatiali. Even rhyme is not that important. Generally, these songs are sung by the cattle herders on the fields or the fisherfolks living off a river. Among the several subjects of folk music in all of Bengal, that includes Deha-tatva (about the body) and Murshid-tatva (about the guru), Bhatiali deals with Prakriti-tatva (about nature). Probably the most renowned poet of this form is Jasimuddin. Some of Rabindranath Tagore's songs can also be categorised as typical bhatiali.
My Love Lives In A Maiden's Fallen Tear
I saw sweet love in maiden's fallen tear
a racing orb of light so very bright.
A love lost, great tragedy so many fear
as small children do darkness of night.
If only to live and not be too late
for the appointed day that I died.
Mend the widening cracks in my plate
careful to eat my stolen eggs fried.
Should a poet compose for me a monody
I shall rise again just to hear.
For my sweet soul fled my tortured body
but my love lives in a maiden's tear.
Will I ever hear sweet song sung in tune.
Or peacefully sleep beneath crescent moon?
Robert J. Lindley, 10-25-2015
Note-Tried to go to sleep,but that wicked muse
of mine, demanded just one more! And it had to
be a sonnet!
(1) monody-
Monody | Define Monody at Dictionary.com
dictionary.reference.com/browse/monody
Dictionary.com
a Greek ode sung by a single voice, as in a tragedy;
lament. 2. a poem in which the poet or speaker laments
another's death; 3. Music. a style
of ...
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Monody dictionary definition | monody defined
www.yourdictionary.com/monody
yourDictionary.com
pl. -·dies. in ancient Greek literature, an ode sung by a
single voice, as in a tragedy; lyric solo, generally a
lament or dirge; a poem in which the poet mourns ..
rendezvous in sun
hummingbird's plight on ocean
solo odyssey
June 25, 2022
Nature-themed Summer Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Syllables checked by HMS.com
FIRST PLACE
Brian Strand's Premier Haiku Contest
Notes: The ruby-throated hummingbird is a species of hummingbird that generally spends the winter in Central America, Mexico, and Florida, and migrates to Canada and other parts of Eastern North America for the summer to breed. It is by far the most common hummingbird seen east of the Mississippi River in North America.
During migration, some birds embark on a nonstop 900-mile journey across the Gulf of Mexico and Caribbean from Panama or Mexico to the eastern United States.
Wikipedia