Best Impels Poems


Premium Member Sky of Fireflies

My head feels like it's being squeezed in a vise. Eardrums must have blown out from the explosion since I hear absolutely nothing, not even my own breath. Slowly rising to my feet I survey the damage. Left arm    gone    from the elbow down. Flesh hangs from my right forearm exposing bone and sinew. I don't even want to know what my face looks like but my cheeks are burning     white hot.

Suddenly, I am keenly aware of the immediate surroundings. The twenty story office building I call my second home is utterly    destroyed. Smoke and haze are everywhere. An acrid odor fills my nostrils with each breath. Scanning the vicinity I see body parts strewn about. The urge to vomit overwhelms me. Afterward, I begin to shake and sob uncontrollably. My God, why? 

Home is five blocks away. My wife, my daughter    are they alive? No idea how many bombs were dropped. Must get home. Each step brings excruciating pain, but the adrenalin pulsing through my veins impels me forward. Finally reaching my neighborhood, it quickly becomes evident that it too was   targeted. Rubble and debris surrounds me. In the distance, what was my house, leveled to the ground. The cries, the screams of others sifting through the debris make me question my sanity    did my hearing return or are the screams in my head? 

Reality sets in   coldly   as I discover the bodies of my family, partially buried under the rubble. I have no more tears in this moment. Instead, my mind drifts back to former days    happy times. Myself, Najwa and baby, lying in our back yard on a comfy blanket, staring up at the stars, watching the fireflies softly flicker in a dreamy, summer night sky. We had    peace   then. Now there is nothing but bitterness and hatred in my heart. I gaze at the sky, now black as sin. All the stars are there. But the fireflies    they're gone. I can't help but wonder, what will become of me?

Flicker flicker fly
Stars above to light the sky
Angels weep goodbye
© Tom Woody  Create an image from this poem.
war
Form: Haibun

Premium Member Living In the Dark

It is the night, in deepest dark, that death foretells
the demon heart in which all lonely feeling dwells.

Yet, in plain sight, our eyes can’t see what life impels,
emotion’s plea, our deepest sorrow love dispels.

Blind are caustic ink filled visions, all light repels,
like charred decisions, ash from crematory tells
a tale where quietus intrepidity sells
the silent impetus toward a life of many hells.

Walled inside this ebon murk, my emotion wells;
beyond they lurk, those who are sane, their tale retells
how life is to live, and the end but brief farewells.

Though my will may bend, it is I that death compels.


02/16/2018
Form: Monorhyme

In Pursuit of World Peace

When I reached at 4,
My father brought, 
A packet of gift;
Held me to heart,
Kissed my cheeks,
Then handed to me, 
Saying "happy birthday my son,"
Opened and showed,
The Sten gun and pistol toy"
Saying "this is a perfect gift for boys";
Taught me how to use, 
Saying "Perfect machine 
for your 'war and peace' game";
Paused for some time,
Then gaze in my eyes,
He pulled the plastic trigger,
Displayed usage of toy,
Saying "world is violent, 
May need one day";

World spends more on weapons,
Than feeding needy poor;
Impels the innocent poor,
By provoking slogans,
of religion and race;
Stimulate virgin minds,
"To hold the gun in hand,
And ask for peace, parity";
Weapon deals are 
So profitable business,
All benefit whosoever involved;
Reaches to Hungry and poor,
Where Food and medicines,
Can't reach;
Weapon sale gets momentum, 
In the name of peace;
They know how to split,
Divide and rule;
In the name of world in peace;
Fly dove of peace in the sky,
Then give weapon to shoot;

© sadashivan nair


Premium Member Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

Distort of sounds strum his bow —sawed heart rhythms,
mischievous fool impels my mind's rapt boredom.
The devil's finger warns and pivots, sedates,
adrift among alleged stolen dreamscapes.
The jester sleeps all day, perplexed I awake.
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.

Sailboat - a Shape Poem

~                               Sailboat,
                                  in
                  ~~~        calm
                                  weather
       ~~             you  are wasted
                       but if  the winds gust
                and howl  you are hastened. 
        ~       So I too,  through adversity,
             ~~   am as  you are indeed.
                          For  turbulence
          pulls taut the slackened lines of apathy, 
             it fills torpid sails with purpose, 
                and impels me to proceed.
    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
© Jesse Rowe  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Shape

Premium Member Creating a New You

Written: August 28, 2023
______________________________________________________________

If you don't covet where you live, my friend,
Imagine a fitter home, a place to mend,
A sanctuary where dreams come alive,
A space where bliss and hope will thrive.

Picture walls that tell stories, so grand,
Of triumphs and adventures, hand in hand,
Each brick whispered tales of joy and pride,
Where memories of smiles will forever reside.

In life's vast garden, we all wander free.
Seeking souls whose presence brings us glee
If those you are with don't share your happiness,
Find raw companions—a tribe of blissfulness.

In the field of labor, where dreams collide,
Lies and truths are often hidden deep inside.
If your task doesn't bestow joy to your heart,
It's time to embark on an untarnished start.

Our time is short to be spent in despair.
Toiling away with no joy to share.
If your days are filled with boredom and dread,
It's time to tailgate your heart instead.

Even the shoes you wore last year
Need to be replaced, my dear.
As the seasons retreat and forego,
So too must your footwear flow.

Don't be embarrassed to experiment.
Wear modern shoes and embrace merriment.
Let your feet move to a different rhyme.
Discover a style that impels you to feel sublime.

Gone are the worn-out soles of the past.
Step into unknown and persuade your stride last.
With each step, you'll feel the ground anew.
Leaving behind what no longer serves you
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Madras

Madras

Hotel lobbies, hotel bars
Hotel rooms, air conditioned cars
City sights and sounds and smells
A smile, a frown, a shout impels
The thoughts within to exude
And express themselves without interlude

Here no blossoms, no sweet fresh air
Save the scented jasmine in the women's hair
And the two don't mix, as we all know
Like the fires of hell and virgin snow

Flowing bright and silken dress
Saris adorn the putrid mess
Hems lifted gently to protect them
From certain ruin in the amalgam

Of open sewers - each gutter one
Of refuse tips - the pavements on
Rotten, decaying, organic matter
Dried up dung and vomit spatter

From the mouths of the unlucky
Poor and destitute - never plucky
"They are content with their lot"
(Steeped in drink, their guts they rot)

Laying near the dirty door
Their filthy rags bright no more
In the street or on a stair
Ignored by all without a care

And yet...and yet, life goes on
Each to their own - their God isn't one
Some are born to thrive and prosper
Others to poverty and despair

And here we are, visitors just
Though we discreetly watch - as we must!
And absorb each heart rending sight
Forsaking those in their plight

But if we give - sometimes we do
There are no thanks, nor feelings due
Because are we helping them buy food
Or alcohol which kills? Then we brood

And the rich they come in chauffeured car
Or the latest model bought by Pa
In designer clothes, their scarves unfurled
The stench, the poor? Another world!
Form: Verse

Premium Member Conscience

Sleepless nights of tossing and turning
wonder what if or what for, even why not.
Battling decisions far from reach or
just a breath away.
Casting doubt to be trampled and buried
under glass; where it is seen and still
lies within reach.

Head pounds with thoughts; not giving in,
not relenting, or leaning this way or that.
Voices cry out with confusion that builds
and packs a swollen brain to shut down.
Escape has no chance to override the
conscience act.

What impels the mind to split and pull
one way or another?
What creates the thought of right or wrong,
of good or evil to overpower the heart
to decide last and for all, what to do?
Who or what whispers softly in your ear
guiding your steps to take the right road?
MOTHER…

Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey

The Last Goodbye

The time has come to bid farewell
To all these earthly toils and cares
To nobler heights the soul impels
The time has come to bid farewell
And join the angels where they dwell
Now comes the climb up Jacob's stairs
The time has come to bid farewell
To all these earthly toils and cares.



                        Timothy I. Brumley
Form: Triolet

Premium Member Ramadan Is Here

"Alhumdulillah, Ramadan is here! 

Its the month I eagerly await, incessantly praying to Allah in hope and fear. 

Giving up food and water is only for his sake, just fast for a few hours, and then you can savour your delicious homemade cake.

Allah opens the gates of Paradise, and closes the gates of Hell, 
And he chains the devils up, so that you can be free from their despicable impels. 

Fast with complete faith and hope, my friends,
Before you regret your holy Journey as Ramadan ends.

Its a peaceful month, filled with abundant blessings and love,
At  every second of your life, Allah is watching you from above. 

Pray and pray, and repent and repent,
Don’t you want the hereafter? The taste of delectable fruits and beautiful Paradise scent? 

Ask forgiveness from Allah, the Most High, the Most Great, 
Do not think that He won’t hear you, He is the All-Powerful, the Changer of Fates.
Open your fasts with sweet, sweet dates,
But don’t forget to help your mother wash the dirty spoons, kettles and plates.

Try to complete the Quran, try to get closer to your Creator, 
His punishment is great, but his Mercy Greater."
Form: Rhyme

Ballad of the Bouncing Self

At times I, like a butterfly,
May flit from bloom to bloom,
Or with my whimsy set sky-high
To outer space may zoom.
And yet, when all’s been said and done,
I follow what my fate has spun—
For some may strive and ne’er succeed,
While others simply do the deed.

A Muse impels me on a spree
Of whirling swirling craft
Where poems must not mean but be…
Until I’m going daft.
But words, albeit finely wrought,
Can only catch a passing thought—
For some may strive and ne’er succeed,
While others simply do the deed.

When my reality looks pale
I frolic in a theme
From vivid myth, folklore or tale, 
Where dreams are what they seem.
And there where’er I romp and roam
I always feel a welcome home—
For some may strive and ne’er succeed,
While others simply do the deed.

I’ve often fallen to the ground
And picked myself back up.
I’ve hungered for a loving touch
And sipped from passion’s cup.
My longings, cravings ruled my will;
Still never could I drink my fill—
For some may strive and ne’er succeed,
While others simply do the deed.

A life led wrong, though full of song,
Will cause us to regret,
When pondering the winters long,
Our faults we can’t forget.
And then we’re washed in bitter tears
For senseless youth and wasted years—
As some may strive and ne’er succeed,
While others simply do the deed.

I said I want to live before
I die, in villanelle,
To learn where lies true wisdom’s door
And shun the gates to hell.
Yes, wayward ways can still begin
To seek and find the Way within—
For some may strive and not succeed,
While others simply do the deed.


– Harley White (July 4, 2014)
Form: Ballad

The Skaldic 1- Death Has An End

Bound by the unchained*the brave Scald                                                                Behold though pain*knows sacrifice                                                                          waters hot falls*desires run cold                                                                                     a thrust through awl*thrice the hellish hound                                                     Poe with poem*pen the ode scoldDestines rhyme chimes *road ends for death                                                                 wail flail crux impels*Prince of Life                                                                                  Logic of death's* dawns self -destruct                                                                         Had they had breath*would not design
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member What Bell Rings Out So Clearly For You

What Bell Rings Out So Clearly For You?

Hells bells, the ringing always carries on
Life be it beautifully great still endures
Ravages, we in this dark world, are cast upon
Temptations, great multitude of dark allures.
What bell rings out so clearly for you?

Massively sad are the long and crying bells
Peeling out that string of long blue notes
The ringing sends the message that tells
Nobody needs to send out words they wrote.
What bell rings out so clearly for you?

We may hear, not know for whom the bell tolls
Dire such bells ring in with a call to alarm
Such is how Fates streams in rushing flows
So unlike cow bells singing out on the farm.
What bell rings out so clearly for you?
 
For many happy events beautiful bells extol
Signal to join in the joy or meet to pray
This the sound that all God's children know
Calling out, walk calm in the Christian way
What bell rings out so clearly for you?

When loved one is sick, off goes alarm bells
Ringing in your mind like a dropping shoe
Then the call to prayer rushes and so impels
Miracles often brought if your faith is true!
What bell rings out so clearly to you?

Xxxxxx - X - XXXXXXX,   07-28-2015

Note- Written for Debbi Guzzi's contest
Form: Rhyme

One

I will flow 
where the energy 
of love impels me
to flow—

just as wild rivers 
pursue the pull of the 
distant waves—to
each kiss from the salt 
of the ocean—

to become whole—
One.

Emotional Attraction

EMOTIONAL ATTRACTION

While in this world it seems opposites have attraction
Male - female, plus - minus, north - south, captain and crewman
Between these terminals, force yielded by interaction
Drives the machines of existence material and human

Another vector impels not by contrast causation
Draws together the similar and those of perceived relativity
Thus species, races, interests, languages and nations
Coalesce, combine, blend and merge with close affinity

In human life, its creations, exchange, let alone sin
Our actions and products are coloured by our emotion
Thus what attracts tends to match what we feel within
This accord can account for affection or even devotion

But away with these generalities and abstractions
So before your eyes are completely glazed, near closure
A case: those who find dismal poems to have an attraction
Have within themselves some sadness they're not yet over

As it's been observed, behind faces of calm insulation
There may be hidden emotions well concealed
Many living lives of quiet desperation
That are, in their responses, unwittingly revealed
Form: Verse

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