Best Harks Poems
On a harbor of restless shore
she scans across the deepened waves,
to end pain’s grim just like before...
as necklace breaks, in chilled farewell.
By edge of evening, time races
with hope to drown in circling tides.
Not a chance to hold stars’ graces,
a wish tangled in poverty.
Big dipper heeds her whimper, faint
as dazzling light soaks in blue sea.
Until her child harks ,” Mom, have faith;
I'm here with you, through love’s glory.”
By questioning the bleak of life
her truth alights, now out of strife.
Suicide Prevention Month Contest
Sponsor: Laura Loo Rhyme-- Sonnet Form
Re-submitted 9/16/2017
Categories:
harks, angst, lost,
Form:
Rhyme
Sandstone erode into dust harks history's fade
Effected by events, weathered
Crept century torture administers eventual taint
Withered time drives incessant
Battered slate roof removed promotes damage
Cold rain and blazing sun hurt
Cyprus seeds challenge infertile dust, establish
Passage through gathered dirt
Co dependent pieces redefine a weary structure
Fed full on counterpart stength
Capability maps character, freshened functions
Exchange worshipped sentiment
Protected rod trunk tree intersects better entity
Deep dug roots, a chasm shielding
Tumult inevitably threatens to reinstate tentative
Pledge prevails, reliance appealing
Dedicated to tasks, support and every day bolster
Ruin renewed by flaura's courage
Offers availed are automated, mutual responders
Hold each firm in order to flourish
23rd November
Categories:
harks, age, appreciation, blessing, crush,
Form:
Rhyme
There is a lark who is born to live in the meadow,
perched far above the smooth mountain stones.
She will rise from fields of the cloverleaf cradles,
with a foxglove petal, riding her wings.
A feather she's worn, will flutter on down,
to welcome us here, and to tickle our nose.
With a moment to cling, it is soft as a dream;
then it lifts into streams, of the sweet morning breeze.
She must sing from the heart, to awaken the dawn.
Her valor will linger, in the late morning sun.
Her tempo, announces a thaw in the spring,
Bringing a promise, of flowers and green.
Her voice has a cadence, a solo, ascending,
that comes with an encore, tremolos impending,
so fragile, it harks as a piccolo, playing.
She circles at dawn, to wake you and cheer you.
But at sundown, she croons, a soprano to soothe you.
She's a lark from a meadow, that mellows the heart
___________________________________________________________
Categories:
harks, bird, nature,
Form:
Personification
Ebony and ivory, noted for sound,
Digital playback, sleight of hand.
Songsters echo, vibrant pound,
Upright, organ, cottage, grand.
Strings attached, taut with suspense,
The Master Key hammers home
Letters of note; chords of tense,
Past and present; timed metronome.
Naturally played with flat and sharp
Sweeping the board. Ayre of nonchalance.
Orchestral manoeuvres performed with harp
Brass and wind; counter balance.
Peddled depression, ayer lingers on
Distant wave; caressed...pianissimo.
Emotive conductor, under the baton
Chorused voice harks, keyed to the piano.
Categories:
harks, music,
Form:
Light Verse
RECIPE: "Poulet Roti" French Style - Le Chant Royal (Instalment 4)
(Note: Rhyme scheme of “Le Chant Royal” where capital “E“stands for refrain, thus – Stanza: ababccddedE, Envoi: ddedE)
STANZA III
The idea's to pluck the chicken naked dead
But to keep it alive so long as there's fun
Stick pins and needles all the time on its head
So that when the COQ crows you know the bird's done
Was Marquis de Sade Torquemada's agent
The Socialist Mayor now out on tangent
Wishing spindle glass tower turns ivory
To keep him in power sans democracy
Get henchmen to preach comeuppance damnation
Tighten screws on chicken spit sans clemency
Now that lame bird can't fly away sans nation
ENVOI
Vain Socialist pique harks back to idiocy
Lax morals sport with intellect's papacy
Skinned and spiked chicken calls for condemnation
Do Napoléons fear Waterloo or Holy See
Now that lame bird can't fly away sans nation
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Categories:
harks, anti bullying, family, father
Form:
Ballade
The Jackal's line of demarcation ye souls' furlough for interim...
Today, cockcrows perturb in a gala thrice for thee quiescent stay,
God's Park of Ephemera, sashays the daggled the minder harks,
a chest not in to rest, of dais edicts, cudgels so contagious;
haughty wheels peddle rashly between two havocked hearts,
foisting wintry fobs of progeny pleating to let pigeons exeunt,
if bedlam trotting by pothers ye, the cob, yet calmly sings,
"Fare-thee-well, Oh snowflake in dwindle, hallow me next spring,
via crepuscules, cleaved like vacant aulas crescendo conveyance,
wholly abutting city lights, this chimney calling cannot sight!"
Jolly pedestrians twinge at our capitol! Touring a mindful chance,
Ample of verve, knowing mortuary amblers must get their fight!
"Fountains, thawing ye? Janitor, what does the blind really see?"
tryst squelch time, squirm squander squalors n' ante antiquated feet,
Jocund or beh£s belief! Ye! Behind bellicose belletrists by beggars!
When baubles full-fledged, hast consummated thee to hobnob no more,
jongleur sloshed anchors on mimes bare laid laic stoolie, loupe aims,
Headmost, request lasting breaths above broadcasting fortune n' fame,
Then fated fires the Sniper jostles from home to goad n' prod,
Ye kindred stanchion and I, skimmed, the sunset even with me...
Categories:
harks, adventure, imagination, nature, on
Form:
Free verse
he waits in the eaves
for his nameth to be call'd,
summon'd by those more selfish than he coulds't ever fathom.
he harks to their sorrows
and grants naught but kind words-
courageous and fill'd with everlasting grace.
he dost not tireth
despite the yearning
inside his soul.
through't all
nobody wond'rs how he's learn'd just the right things to sayeth,
to the cutter-
the drinker-
the loneliest forgott'n.
nobody sees beyond his façade of impl'ring inspiration.
but-
'tis those who hath tast'd sorrow,
commun'd with it,
accept'd it,
embrac'd its bitter agonies-
that smile the brightest,
p'rhaps, to mask any cracks.
oh-
he'll say he doth not mind.
but within, he screams f'r help,
as he fights demons that hast
poison'd his past
and stripp'd his desires.
and yet,
he will nev'r stop his pl'ght.
despite discrimination of the mind,
the haunt'd ghosts,
and ev'ry single letd'wn-
he pushes through life
and can't stop w'ndering
how easy-
'twould be-
to turn an accid'nt
deadly and fatal.
he doth not seeth that the things he speaketh art f'r him besides.
-and he is w'rth so much m're to me.
I am charg'd as guilty
of taking advantage
at my l'west-
but 'tis nay excuse
for the h'ly invalidation
of creature as p're as he.
anon, I lie awake,
imagining how he waits to be us'd again.
'tis sickens me.
I h'pe he will be selfish 'ne day-
and the drops of sorrow he shedeth
'twill be abs'nt for the m'rtals
he seeks to comf'rt,
and instead-
be f'r the angel-
who casteth aside his wings
to saveth a lost soul
liketh me.
Categories:
harks, angel, depression, forgiveness, how
Form:
Free verse
Past harks out in chirp, those sad lores
that have dried tears wrapped in autumn leaves
hopes and aspirations raped till blue
grief taped tight like glue.
Years went in events failed
in wounds ,salty fingers railed
everything tried
eventually cried.
Now is no better
just got a broken one
and a bone setter
cracked three
as I tried
the jump,
did I crash
with a thump
that I did
did not matter
I won
a gold
in my hold
did ..!
This day and this hour
seems like I pay well for
what I do win
with hard work or sin
with perspire or grime
but it is not all lime.
Dunno what holds in dark
is there any spark
away from the bloody stark
there is that green park
where I sit and ponder
eyes going yonder
did I not do enough running
should I not stop gunning
let the targets walk
let them stalk
you run
as a shadow
and let them follow
like sun.
Categories:
harks, inspirational, lifeautumn,
Form:
This one
Tall whale
Squirts bad sperm
Marine girls beware
It will give you teratology
In your womb
Plant seeds
Of extinction
I can't breathe sea harks
Up the creek
Krill die
Evil. We cannot ride high
No high lands
Water everywhere
No water
Water is fiend
Rats ‘congress
In dead-end streets.
Hey, Call it a day
Time to die.
Global Poetry - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Debbie Guzzi
Poet: Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
Categories:
harks, earth, sea,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Sitting in my rocking chair
I feel myself relax,
A quality that every couch
Or stool or loveseat lacks.
The gentle back and forth harks back
To infancy, perhaps,
When we were rocked while being fed
In moms' and daddies' laps.
No matter what the reason
There is nothing to compare
To an hour spent unwinding
In my comfy rocking chair.
Categories:
harks, home,
Form:
Rhyme
Banal secrets…
Just another night.
He leaves
a bagful of snacks,
cans of emptiness
scattered on the lumpy couch,
in front of the tube
now broadcasting
a series
on those who are yet to return,
the traceless ones
the lost ones.
The verandah on which
he comes out at night
comes out amid night,
is touched by a sudden gust.
The wind has passed rivers and mountains.
It whispers the name of a sister,
full blood sister of this middle aged man,
who has kept her in heart
and in lungs, there is those nicotine sponged.
The waft calls his lost sister
Traceless, fade away.
He face the brazen night. Dark.
A clueless dog is barking. Is there an entity?
May be just a shadow from the life
he has buried in the town they used to live;
a town which has consumed
a girl returning from school; a town which has always
known this man’s, this brother’s folly.
But
he has only pushed her teasingly; a mere play;
the canal, the greedy canal, which has sucked a girl
sure is the one to be blamed for.
Still
he harks the screams in his suppressed dreams.
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
Categories:
harks, allegory, angst, artsister, lost,
Form:
Free verse
Tryst edged ... Aurora whisper serendipitous saffrons,
e'er forging balms beamish strands to aerate crown's expanse, whilst bestrewn
lissome mists waltzes amongst errant gasp caught in rapture.
An ephemeral cloudburst evaporates on supine
silhouettes of the gods. Pristine manna with a sigh ... midst hollow
utter, guides dulcet zephyrs to petrichor arousals.
Purged euphoric realm steep in its prismatic solitude
poise, waft chimerical imagery effervescent caprices,
volley afar ... harks labyrinths mellifluous murmur.
Vesper, yon the zenith of Terra, breathe his claim toward
the cosmos, granting resplendent panacea a vestured vault,
... occasions an epiphany as moonglade o'er a lake.
Categories:
harks, creation, extended metaphor, imagery,
Form:
Sijo
Isn't it amazing
to reap what you sow?
Now harvest. Before, plow.
Categories:
harks, life, philosophy, uplifting
Form:
Senryu
The Bad Old Days.
As one get older the mind harks back to the past
to find what has been overlooked and the field of
memories is not bare, in glints of forgotten items
some of are not flattering for my self-esteem.
There was this problem of taking umbrage for
the slightest offence, or rather what my young self,
saw as slight against me.
There was this rage against people, who criticized
me, I was full of what I today call poor man´s pride.
When some kind folks gave my mother I threw
the damn coat out of the window, never should we
take charity; I was fifteen years at the time; mother
needed that coat she jumped out of the window too
– it was a year with much snow- she landed softly,
grabbed the coat and went to bed with it.
Oh, field of memories let me forget the past, if I can´t
forgive myself. if you want to give me a winter coat
I will accept, it gets cold in Algarve wintertime.
Categories:
harks, childhood, family, humorous,
Form:
Blank verse
Patrick Kail
There are silent deeds which needs be done.The sorts of which the Wicker Man would whisper well in a whetstones way.As a well honed edge waits in stealth for the prideful whelp who swaggers tall.Before the footfalls not quite not quite heard but minded , muted , then dismissed.As mostly musings of a childs fear , each step fell mired in the madness blind.Slowly slipping from his mind.Though in truth not far behind him there came that of which no words describe.Other then a Darklings Gift He should beware of.Were He though his fear would quicken.Coagulating slowly at first;Urine:The blood lust.That which bumps within the night is better to be what is heard.Then what harks the call of silent deeds which needs be done.Whilst something wicked this way comes. James P Kail Friday December 14th 2012 as of yet an untitled work verse 1
Categories:
harks, dark, fear,
Form:
Narrative