Best Go Poems
"Letting Go!"
Behind that garden rail
Where worms squirm and roam,
They dig into every bad part of my day
I feel them crawling, making my hide their home
They feast on my will and my dead walking soul.
Slowly I am fading away into a cloud of nothing.
I find myself reminiscing the moment I meet you.
With scars and guilt, I won’t let go!
I’m cold and miserable inside
Different emotions, I can no longer hide
I can’t seem to heal the deep cut within
Echoes twist the mood that has no meaning
I sit with a jar full of tears, holding on tight
Afraid of letting go!
The hollow walls slay in every way
The abyss of a waterfall resides in my heart
This throbbing starvation, repeats the taste it longs for
I have no control, I can’t feed without you by my side.
I won't let go!
by:PD
I think no stimulus could be
as potent as the one to pee.
A feeling frequent and innate
is this - the urge to urinate.
It comes each day to everyone
at work, at play, or on the run.
It comes sometimes as home you drive,
and soon you're hoping to survive
the bursting of your inner dam
while sitting in a traffic jam.
Then down the street you drive distressed
with thighs together tightly pressed.
You wish so badly it would cease
and then you pray for sweet release.
And as you drive, you ache and ache
and curse that drink you had to take.
You want to speed, but big surprise -
a cop's behind you. Squeeze those thighs
to keep inside what wants to flow!
You do not dare to let it go.
Few impulses can so compare.
Oh, how you'd love a diaper there!
Then home at last, you do a dance.
You run while pulling down your pants.
And horror, if when once inside,
you find the bathroom occupied!
WEll, just be glad it's mountain dew
you're holding in, not number two!
Ink of life cannot bleed for eternity,
so I place dried petals in between,
crucial chapters of my memoirs.
When we stop breathing poetry,
our crestfallen pen, left in silence -
where do we poets go?
Is there a special place,
where the ink flows forever,
like waterfalls of mercy -
where thirst quenches
through poetic potions.
Releasing unspoken words -
can you hear the messages?
Floating in the tepid breeze,
brushing against your face,
forming goose pimples.
When our spirits make love to poetry,
we radiate like rays of sunshine
warming the world.
We do not speak poetry,
it whispers to us,
like spotlights in the sky,
soothing scars upon the moon.
When we cry poetic tears,
we pour like raindrops,
refreshing seasonal blossoms.
Our muse battles storms,
like lilac lilies in the snow.
We illuminate like a timeless rainbow,
absorbing all spectrum of vibrancy.
Glistening after clouds clear,
from red to yellow to green.
We the word collectors,
soul connectors,
forever weaving like
spiders spinning cobwebs.
What becomes of us
when our pen's shadow
no longer appears.
We may never write the perfect poem,
but poetry reminds us we are alive -
as our words become immortal.
Simple Musing
Silent One
25 November 2020
Where on Earth or far beyond do we poets go, you ask.
My thoughts willingly stretch my imagination with this task.
I would reply...in any direction our ink chooses to flow.
To the light of dawn or to dark telltale shadows of Poe
There are no boundaries that could rein in a poet's mind,
even if we have the mournful misfortune of going blind.
A poet is not harnessed by sight like a horse to a carriage.
From memory our vision serves us in a sort of marriage,
a bond without rings and vows that gives us wings to fly
among stars, or to realms a common man cannot descry.
To know sin's sorrow, we would walk through a fiery hell
if it would give us the insight that living could not quell.
Inspiration is our weapon, feathered arrows we shoot,
aiming for the rhyming words and chasing in hot pursuit.
Though our muse flees, and crumbled pages lie at our feet,
our mind struggles in unrest but will not concede defeat.
On ventured missions, traveling where our hearts will lead.
Among distant galaxies, where we collect poetic seed
to plant in fertile delta land or in sandy deserts on Earth,
cultivating cogent lines, to which our scribing gives birth.
Fathering or mothering verses from infancy to fruition.
Editing until at last, our brainchild is worthy of submission.
We see far beyond mundane realities of life and reason.
Writing from the heart, rebuking the penalty of treason.
We wind through mazes of each personal poetic anecdote.
Exposed is our nakedness in each lyrical line we ever wrote.
June 20, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney.
Words can be whimsical, a merry-go-round
They run in a circle, they bounce up and down
They play hide-and-seek, until they are found
Look how quickly the little ones grow!
Words can seduce like a scandalous dance
They'll perplex the complex, if given a chance
They're as sincere as England, as sexy as France
As reckless as the caution they throw
Words can get tipsy if taken too much
The pretentious go on-and-on about such-and-such
The brutish ones can bail you out in a clutch
The foolhardy don't know they don't know
Words can be tacky, tongue wagging gabs
Words can be lavish and leave you the tab
Words can covertly steal and grab
Their smile is only for show
Words can impulsively issue a dare
Words can react with extravagant flair
But words must always be handled with care
When timing's too slow, for words on the go
Look how quickly the little ones grow!
As reckless as the caution they throw
The foolhardy don't know they don't know
Their smile is only for show
When timing's too slow
For words on the go-
8/7/18
On Christmas day before he died,
I went home to visit my dad.
The house was full of family,
our mood was quite somber and sad.
We drifted in and out the room,
where he lay dying in his bed.,
Each of us sharing memories,
saying the words that needed said.
Those last days perhaps the hardest,
as death became reality.
We made the promise to ourselves,
to hold on to his memories.
We were grasping for any hope,
all my brothers, sisters, and me.
We had not yet convinced ourselves,
it was time to let him be free.
Be free to hunt that long coon hunt,
that will never come to an end.
To dance his jig among his friends,
to lie beside his wife again.
Goodbye my beloved father,
in my heart you will always be.
Place a kiss on my mother’s cheek,
and tell her that it is from me.
Their lives begin, that special day
Your hardest job, is on the way.
Walking and pacing, all night long
Knowing that one day, they’ll be strong.
Watching them crawl, then walk and run
Treasure each moment, share their fun.
They grow so fast, enjoy each day
For sometime soon, they’ll move away.
Years of school, sometimes they will drag
We’re filled with pride, we parents brag.
Teaching our kids, always be kind
Lasting friendships, many will find.
Do as I say, not as I do
We all have said, our parents too.
The truth comes out, don’t cheat or lie
Don’t try and skimp, to just get by.
Take the right path, we try to guide
Sometimes they don’t, we let it slide.
Knowing they must, find their own way
Life is tough, on track they must stay.
Bumps in the road, many will hit
We as parents, just have to sit.
Learn from mistakes, it takes its’ toll
Their independence, that’s our goal.
The hardest part, is yet to come
When high school years, are said and done.
We’ve done our jobs, as best we could
We must let go, or so we should.
Give them their wings, and let them fly
As we sit back, and often cry.
Turning the page, is hard to do
Wondering if, they listened to you.
Reach for the stars, follow your dreams
It takes time, forever it seems.
Your heart will break, can’t let it show
It’s so difficult, letting go.
Remember years ago, when you were fit
Now you can't stand too long, before you have to sit
And all the times that you ran to catch your bus
Now it just passes by and you stand and cuss.
In the days gone by you'd eat like a horse
Now when you go out it's only one course
And much smaller bites when you do eat
Because your sweet tooth has cost you your teeth.
And the beautiful body you had as a young teen
Now when you go to the beach, you hope you're not seen
And tying your laces it's hard if your tall
You have to rise slowly because you might fall.
You go up to your bed feeling alright
Chances are you'll be up in the night
Having an accident is something you dread
So you put plastic sheets all over your bed.
And your eyes are not as good as they used to be
So you have to wear glasses just so you can see
But it's not all gloom there is the odd perk
You can stay in bed later, because you don't have to work.
And you've been through life you're wiser too
When your family need advice they'll come to you
So burn the candle both ends, just have a ball
And enjoy your life until you get the call.
Written 1ST February 2018. ( POTD 2/2/2018)
For POTD Poetry contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux.
I remember receiving a comment congratulating me and I must be honest was gobsmacked to receive the honour of POTD.
From the comments I received I could see that many on soup could identify with some of the things I had mentioned in my poem.
The general feeling to sum up was ( GETTING ON IN YEARS SUCKS BIG TIME )
so we really have to make the most of what time we have left on earth.
P.S. have read your verse 'Broken People'
(Female) O' Lord where do I go
Just what will I see
And when will I know
What truth means to me
Male) To who can I Turn
Who Can I ask
When will I Learn
If I'm up to the task
(Both) This life journeys on
That's so easy to see
Like words to a song
But who's singing to me
(Male) Lord hear my plea
And answer my prayer
(Both) What's that we see
Is it him standing there
(Male) Closer he walks
with me and my fears
(Female) Softly he talks
And dry's all my tears
(Both) Whenever we're lost
And in need of a friend
Our heavenly host
Will answer again
Whenever you're lost
And in need of a friend
Your heavenly host
Says let's start again,
Let's start again...
One half is submerged in light,
the other in darkness.
Half says goodnight and the other
tugs the harness.
Kids climb backyard trees tinged
with school bus yellow.
As lovers play hide and seek
in the nighttime meadow.
Training wheels lay abandoned -
youthful eyes bear cornea confidence.
The silver spokes whistle through copper leaves -
once in a lifetime decadence.
August stars say their last farewell
in glorious beelines.
Whilst wrinkled fingers grasp the moon
in delicious daytime.
A woman dressed in white walks down the aisle -
her father proudly flaunts.
As a preacher recites Scripture at a funeral:
The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want...
A newborn's laugh lights the whole world up
with effortless ease.
Whilst a pair of liver-spotted legs
unbuckles its knees.
One takes the first step -
the other reaches the end of the line.
One is a wealth of wisdom -
and the other is a gift divine.
Tiny toes to caress the sand,
ashes to sprinkle in the sea -
as if Nature itself has read aloud
Ecclesiastes Three.
Sitting upon the shore
time seems to move so slow.
Watching waves I adore
as reflecting stars glow
Tonight this night is mine
just me and the mute moon.
Tepid breeze feels so fine,
as birds sing their sweet tune.
Mind begins to ponder,
why life sometimes goes wrong.
Thoughts begin to wander,
fed up of being strong.
Sad eyes gaze into space,
tongue utters a deep sigh.
Rain drops caress my face,
masking tears, I can't cry.
Life's questions defeat me
answers I'll never find.
Waves rush in from the sea,
tide surge plays with my mind.
Their call sounds so violent,
soul yearns to drown in them.
Heart tells mind: be silent!
Sweet songs it starts to strum.
Thoughts tame, turning tranquil,
sunshine brightens dark skies.
Rainbow smile brings goodwill,
as phoenix spirits rise.
Silent One
21 January 2018
Experimenting with 6 syllables per line.
Beneath the sunlit sky I see your face,
and in that moment you reveal your touch-
I feel the way you’ve mastered your embrace,
and through the night your passion is as such.
Above the twilit moon I need your kiss,
I beg of you to keep my secret safe-
For when away your fondness I do miss,
and as we said we need our tender faith.
The way the spark is lit beneath the sheets,
reveals the gentle ways you swiftly trace
my body like a sketch down to my feet,
for in your arms is where I leave my lace.
Before the Lord made man you loved me so-
But now it’s time for me to let you go.
October 21, 2016
Erin Go Bragh
At Ben Bulben’s feet Sligo stands,
The home of such creative hands
Where poet William Yeats did grow.
The Nobel Prize his poems did know.
On my trip to this emerald isle,
I yearned to visit a long while.
As sun poured through the misty sky,
Shedding warmth with its golden eye,
I stood beside the lough in awe
At dancing diamonds that I saw
Near Connemara’s tall twelve bens
O’er lands of ancient souls that wends.
I sense their haunting watchful eyes
And feel my roots where rivers rise.
I hear their voices lost at sea,
They echo on eternally;
As with the thousands who took flight
During the worst potato blight.
Their sadness streams across the seas
Where most souls died with unheard pleas.
Those sad and tragic days long past,
And Erin’s joys returned at last
To verdant Lee and sandy shores,
To music heard across the moors,
To people with the kindest hearts,
Is what this isle to me imparts.
Repost from © 2013
*Erin go bragh means "Ireland Forever"
*lough means a lake
*Ben means Irish, a mountain peak
Happy St. Patrick's Day Everyone!
My thanks to this wonderful website:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VAviOxkIhXE
More interesting the way you wrestle
never meaning hurt..
flirting.., with a skillfull mind
and matching tongue.
Twice as agile your swift feet, gleeful toes,
play like little lady fingers, jabbing,
bobbing and weaving in the morning sun.
What a change I witness when the gloves come off
colors raised in stormy impassioned eyes.
So many dimensions,
when you go hard..
even more uncovered..
when you go soft.
Light coral shaded lips,
paler still long neck, brimming in fire.
how the veins sing to me..
though quietly now,
grow insistent.
Getting close, like a creature
not used to light.
A waterfall effect lost
in finest peach hair fields, many
curves and valleys explored
in mosquito nets of night.
Endlessly curious to know,
what a fighter wants..
what a fighter needs,
in love.
Return now from the ropes to knock me off.
My eyes anxiously await a detente
when yours turn soft.
With enlightenment, not inhalation,
drawn from Jefferson Airplane's (Starship?) 'White Rabbit.'
(written by Grace Slick)
A Monotetra ~
Don't be drawn into that fairytale
with the Cheshire Cat's grin and tail
He'll lure you in and leave you frail
To weep and wail To weep and wail
If you're in the Red Queen's palace
Don't sip wine from her gold chalice
Her evil thoughts reek of malice
Go ask Alice Go ask Alice
You look weak, skin sallow and pall
Your White Knight's steed is in a stall
Alice won't save you when you fall
She's ten feet tall She's ten feet tall
Don't chase white rabbits down a hole
Deep descent will devour your soul
It's time to wake and take control
Don't pay the toll Don't pay the toll