Best Guessed Poems
My Birthday,The Calendar Speaks
Since January 4, 1951**********
(Written for the Shanks, the Youngs & Jim)
“...Raging glory...Forever young...”. Bob Dylan
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The calendar speaks
Of this day, seventy years ago, when
I was born. Around 6 p.m.. Wearing a crown
Of thick, black hair. And a never-stop smile,
Instilled to fight the blues. I will not
Want to imagine my mother in the pain of birth...
Only her joys in holding a daughter. My mom
Without any clues (thank God) to imagine all
The pains and demands
My growing would cause. Over and over.
Whoever would have had the thought that
My growing would go on this long?
Most likely, only God, who put the maps before me
All along the way. But, easily I can see
How his plan unfolded perfectly:
From my doings to the coursings of my heart;
From illnesses to ecstasies of my spirit’s growth;
From palettes to pirouettes to poetry.
Who would have prognosed I’d live this long?
Certainly not I. From outrunning my mistakes
To fighting beasts; churning through shadows,
Longing always for the light;
Praying for friendships with angels, and to be
Worthy enough to hear the psalms of Eden — which
Would have taken longer than this long — but,
Whoever would have guessed I’d live this long?
Not my doctors, not my teachers, not my neighbors.
They never saw life’s lessons feeding me to scream
Survival, then passion, and desperately to keep Knowing the smiles that blessed me from birth!
Thanks. Thanks, then, to life and God, and
Love, yes...
Love has held me all along. Thanks, too, to
New Poetry soup friends, so great
********. ************ ********
(c) sally Young eslinger for 1/4/2021
Thanks be to God
I love all the ladies, perhaps you've guessed
Obsessed is probably how I'd describe it best
They're always so sweet
Offering wee treats
You know what they're called, yup naughties, you guessed!
Still designing stuff at this ripe old age
Keeps me going, keeps me still engaged
On the top of my game
No fortune, just fame
Who woulda guessed I'd be still be all the rage
(tongue in cheek lol)
© Jack Ellison 2015
Three innocent children by cancer stricken
touch a Samaritan who then offers to help.
But a dark-hearted joker comes charging in,
ranting the gesture is a result of liberal guilt.
Oh boy, what has this crazy world turned into?
even good intentions are second-guessed!
She came in for an interview.
Her answers were spot on.
Her references were glowing.
Her manners were beyond compare.
So, you hired her? I guessed.
My cousin gave me a “Hmmmmmmphhhhh”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I could not get past her nose ring.”
you were a lady’s man
a shameless flirt
a game player
it was ironic
how you fell for that free spirit
who somehow unbeknownst to her
turned you into a little puppy
following her around
till you couldn’t stand to be away
losing your freedom
giving it up freely
the two little words 'I do'
finally sealing the deal
now here we are
blissfully married for ten years
and now through chaos as it swirls…
it’s us against the world
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on March 23, 2019 for contest FREEDOM TO NOTHING TO SOMETHING sponsored by DELILAH VENTURA
A digit on the digital
trying to escape the inevitable
everything,
they say
is possible
I wait to be convinced.
You must think on this:
time travel will
and happen it did
hid from mere mortals
by Gods.
if it's going to go
it already has.
These things are always this way
like Thursday always comes
on Thursday
I'm not surprised, not anymore
in fact the fact becomes a bore
wish that there was...
....but that wish has been
wished before.
the analog ticks on
unaware its time has
almost gone,
almost
but not quite
I wish to touch a black hole
and feel my fingers gone
You would not know what I have in mind
You would not know what I think
Would you have guessed?
Love
Lord
She was not a unicorn pink castle princess girl
her attitudes leaned more toward blacks and blues
she could find the horribleness in every situation
we understood this, but not her reasoning
we heard she had a tattoo, guessed it was a coffin
or a skull, or burned flesh, something macabre
Her tattoo was gorgeous, monarch butterflies
nothing we expected, a cousin we really did not know
On the day I met your smiling facade, I should have guessed
That you are a mapless labyrinth, an enigma clothed in the false light of evening,
A guide to wanderings, where my steps lost their echo,
And your gaze, a deserted lighthouse, left me to navigate in the starless dark.
Fate carried me to you, a shipwreck promised from the start,
To learn the art of rebuilding from the ruins of my soul,
To paint dawns over my dark nights, to clothe my days
In the colors of sunrise, in an endless spectacle of rebirth.
Become all you wish, in the whirl of change or the calm of stagnation,
I, unchanged in my essence, will remain steadfast in a love that crosses eternities,
Even when you chose to turn my feeling into a doomed chess game,
Leaving my heart to burn on the altar of your unshared passion.
You became the executioner of my feelings, a magician juggling flames,
You abandoned me in your labyrinth, leaving me to melt in your obsession,
From my ashes, to raise a seed of hope, to harvest happiness as forbidden fruit,
While I, turned into fertile ground, will nourish the roots of a new beginning.
On the altar of silence, where the echoes of love fade into the mist of oblivion,
I became a pilgrim in search of light, crossing the dense forests of longing,
Within me, a universe opens, a gate to unseen worlds,
Where each step is an incantation, and every breath, a song of renewal.
In this hidden sanctuary, where reality intertwines with dream,
Your love, once a living flame, now a falling star in my twilight,
I learn to dance among the shadows of memories, to carve my destiny
From the magic of silence, turning every scar into a sacred sign of wisdom.