Best Implies Poems
There is no power greater than the Lord's, but there is a powerful lesson to be learned by not stumbling off on a fool's errand. That idiom is a phrase that explains the undertaking of a futile effort to find or prove something that is an impossible task. Thus, the effort becomes a waste of time and a fool's game to play. It is doomed to succeed from the start, even if the journey taken is by one with a good heart. The goal will never be reached when shrewd ones preach one thing and hand out rose-colored glasses to disguise words they speak but never practice. They tickle the ears of all who will listen, but the truth is what the naive ones will never hear. The real fool's errand is trying to unveil the fools who in spite of all efforts to conceal it, reveal themselves when the truth will out.
it's a waste of time
to go on a fool's errand~
fruitless endeavor
The phrase itself implies that it would be an unproductive effort and a lesson in futility such as Sisyphus rolling a boulder uphill only to watch it roll back down again. So, don't allow yourself to be disappointed, nor disjointed when the foolhardy in the world ..."don't know how to get along, yet, they pretend they've done nothing wrong."* It would be much wiser to avoid engaging with those who are always caught up in the throes of what they haughtily impose upon unsuspecting others. Excuse these added idioms, but they will help make the point about not getting a nose out of joint thinking a fool's errand is 'not my cup of tea.' Or, I'd rather 'call it a day' then chase a fool whose life has gone astray. Don't 'shoot yourself in the foot' by being a fool on an errand that will only prove to be 'a wild goose chase.'
in a world of fools
don't be duped to prove them wrong~
prove yourself wiser
* Sandra Feldman in her poem: 'Foolish World'
One brother, not well-liked by me,
is friends with early light.
Born in a prior century,
he measures day from night.
He comes with neither fangs nor claws,
and yet it makes me cringe
to see him at my door because
he darkens evening’s fringe.
I much prefer his modern kin,
who from man’s tampering,
keeps coming round and round again
to greet us in the spring . . .
A rescuer this younger one!
His middle name implies
he lengthens days by helping Sun
prolong light in the skies.
That brother, Daylight Saving Time,
the one I like the best,
departs each fall. Oh, what a crime
He’s not a constant guest!
For the SAVING DAYLIGHT Poetry Contest of john lawless
Love Is Our Prize
Love is our prize, for we are true,
Thus beats my heart, so claim your eyes,
When in unison two souls coo
As night romantic blushes skies.
How stars twinkle, moon glistens highs,
When Venus grins, charming our view,
While she affirms, as passions rise;
Love is our prize, for we are true.
For long it’s been, just me and you,
Feeling blissful when dreams surmise:
Our love's real, meant for just few;
Thus beats my heart, so claim your eyes.
We rejoice kinship love implies
As fervid vibes of romance woo,
While hearts echo our cheerful cries
When in unison two souls coo.
Sharing secrets, we barely knew,
Grim past we shed held in disguise
And moving forth, vows we renew,
As night romantic blushes skies.
Love genuine will not surprise,
Hosting harmony, tuned anew,
Ensuring souls strum as allies;
When hearts synchronize, as we do,
Love is our prize.
March 23, 2023
Placed 1st: Double The Fun Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Eight syllables per line
Rhymes: A1B1A2B2; babA1; abaB1;
babA2; abaB2; babaR
When silence sings
A memory rings
A heart springs
And words wear wings
*****
I compose my rhapsody
Passionate and full of melody
With shades of artistic unity
Satiated with peaceful beauty
*****
There’s a poem in your eyes
Raw feelings of Nature ties
And all the wonder it implies
Your verses in my mind I eternize
*****
Your hidden rainbows of the mind
To every single hue I relate and bind
A magic wave of wand, one of a kind
A treasure of human nature is mined
*****
Timeless streams of secrets
Shall retain their mysteries
And the sacred words of poets
Shall go down in histories.
Written on June 5th, 2022
Word prompts by Silent One :
"When silence sings "
"There’s a poem in your eyes "
"Hidden rainbows of the mind "
"Timeless streams of secrets "
Migrating southward before Autumn dies;
flocks of geese split the air with honking cries.
And snow clouds dapple Winter's ice-blue skies;
as winds kiss the trees with audible sighs.
Dawn's first light ignites an ice-cold sunrise;
long-gone are the songbirds and butterflies.
Yet, some creatures have learned to improvise,
turning food into fat, they winterize.
Hibernating bears must bulk up their size,
not gorging in the Fall would be unwise.
A long Winter could lead to their demise
should the need to wake up early arise.
Inclement weather tends to brutalize;
for nature doesn't react well to surprise.
Fighting starvation and all it implies;
some species evolved to cannibalize.
Baby brother, your naughty smile entices
A chuckle ringing through the night,
While those eyes blue wink like stars
That I'm pretty sure , we are alike...
If Aunt Nora pinches those rosy cheeks
Yes, I'd whack her leg, she'll never know-
For now, you're saying, let's peek-a- boo
As moon face jiggles up and down,
Till Mama yelps, 'No, our babe might toot gas!'
And peachy feet, they would outgrow mine,
Then we’ll ride on airy coastlines
Sharing guy secrets and watching the girls--
Maybe, hug one or two in Dad's bike
That's what your laughter implies...
O you giggle, mouth without teeth yet;
Not to worry, I am sneaking yummy jello...
Eat that quick! It's all over your bald head
We'll make it look like soap bubbles--
As the hero, I'll tell our parents, the milk
Flushed through the crib...You agree, snickering,
Naughty brother, we have more pranks to go!
Baby Face What's You THINKIN Contest
Sponsor: James Edward Lee Sr.
Visual C 1/19/2019
Created to belong to the one soul
For whom my heart would beat
Rhythmic beats of thirsting desires
I have,
Since times immemorial
Enjoyed this state of being
A slave to Love!
Why, loving requires patience,
Submission, abandoning my throne
And even accepting to disrobe my soul
Among gaping crowds,
Made of souls who understand not
That I am the whirlpool, raging forth
And Love, remains
The river bed, calm and soothing
To allow me to simply keep on being!
Why, being the slave of love
Allows me to imbibe in gloomy souls
The musical tunes of love, tuned correctly
Of course, meaning solely
To give their hearts wings
As to wish to experience its magic too!
Pray, being the slave of love
Requires of me to be virtuous
Made of morals, of principles, of tears,
Of blood, of forgiveness, of acceptance,
Of blinded will, why, of passion,
So deep and so fragile, that it can be
Mistaken to be a natural calamity at times
And a fragranced flower at others!
Of love have I made my master,
As such was willed to me by the skies
I have accepted it and am ready to die for it
If need be,
Though the lover in me yearns to be held in
Between warm palms and to be asked
Of why is it that I still hold on
Even if doing so implies swimming against the current!
A slave of love am I
Enjoying it as long as I have enough strength to
Dancing on its tunes
Meditating on its peace
Writing of its hidden meanings
Waiting for it, waiting
As the drowning do,
For a hand to pull them up!
For Contest Slave to Love
Written on 3rd July 2019
Deep into meditation
I finally let loose useless desires -
those desires that in the end
have been so meaningless
I feel myself lost in a moment -
which to one like me implies
always being caught up
in things for which
no catching up is needed
except in others’ expectations for me
In my mind’s eye,
am I seeing God?
Love for everyone floods my body.
In a moment of cessation,
bliss blossoms
Words For Those With No Voice
For every pair of shoes
All the burnt bones and woes
In the millions, in the mud
All died alone
Starving of food and having lost our souls
Our god abandoned us so
Mother father
Sister brother
Fuel for the Reich, we lay slaughtered
Some of us were saved
By those whose honor made them brave
We must salute them all, the bold and the dead
Even if we have only skeletons to mark their stead
Now that time has passed
There will be contests, it will be a blast
Who wins first? Who wins third?
The holocaust deserves no prize
Why must we die twice, this is absurd?
Honor me with a prayer
A poem
A moment of silence
A heart felt thought about humanity
Prose and verse, to remember the atrocities
This is the honor of men of a higher velocity
Never make a circus of the horrific gas chambers
A contest of who makes the horrors more real or titillating
Its not you the writer or the reader that feels
It’s us gassed and burned and buried with our id numbers
Asleep in the fields in slumber
Yellow stars fading away in silence, in tears
No grave markers to shout out of atrocious fears
The subtly of honor is lost on the crass
Maybe it’s them who should be buried under this grass
Notes:
I realize this is a delicate issue, I wrote this poem only because is of my opinion, that having a contest on such issues unless for specific venues, causes, etc. is somewhat tasteless. There is no right or wrong, this is simply by view or take on things and thus have expressed so via this poem. A contest implies a prize or reward even be it praise, and so to profit from so many peoples suffering, well I have explained why. However that being said, any expression or illustration dedicated to honoring and bringing to the light such atrocities, is a different issue.
That being said good intentions are just that, no matter how misguided they may be. We should be grateful we live where we are free to express our sentiments, feelings and beliefs, without fear of repercussion, and that by its very nature will mean many have diverse opinions and views on any issue.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
But only elegant people can have beauty in their eyes
Only great people can compliment another
And bad ones see with eyes that is sly
Trying to judge using their own ways on others
Seeing not any compliment no matter how you try
But nice ones have eyes that see further
Knowing what the empty page implies
When complimented, know the complimenter is excellent too
Because he's seen through the hue
She's left the spoilt and picked the good
Only a thieve can predict a thieve
Clothiers best know the quality sleeves
And only weavers see through the best weaves
Scorpions never compliment but sting
Empty barrels only tink
But lovely people give you wings
thanks to Dalia for the inspiration...
Sleep.. indigo’s eyes, night loving allies,
Sol’s flare is stars' disguise dawn till dusk’s reprise,
peach awe-inspired skies effuse juice sunrise,
east, grapefruit pink lies - lemon slice rhapsodize.
Pastel wash replies to Zephyrus sighs,
morning glory highs yield to afternoon’s surprise..
wings golden butterfly's, squires sun clockwise,
ruddy west implies cocktail hour’s devise,
sunlight’s demise creeps in blueberry dyes,
plum, mango fraternize as prim-rose chastise.
Sunset complies sending signal-light fireflies,
Wake! indigo’s eyes, night loving allies,
tantalize poets to romanticize.
Susan Ashley
August 17, 2017
~ First Place ~
Contest: Your Best Monorhyme
Sponsor: William Kekaula
Rhymes checked at (RY) rhymer.com
Love should feel like a burning flame of fire,
fueled by everlasting bonds of trust.
And not the promises of a liar;
distorting truths in the pursuit of lust.
You feel the tears building behind your eyes
as your hopes sink, scuttled by betrayal.
And realizing what each drop implies,
dreams collapse as anxieties prevail.
An unbearable pain pierces your heart
when truth dispels the illusion of lies.
And while doubt and mistrust tear it apart,
depression devastates trust as it dies.
The empty promises your heart endured
were a mix of fantasy and pretense.
And juvenile dreams that never matured;
spurred a catastrophic set of events.
Like a river, destiny sets love's course;
and yet, you choose who will be by your side.
So, if fate veers and heads toward remorse,
change direction to stop the hurt inside.
To write in a way so it comes across
With meter and rhyme so nothing is lost
Sounds easy to most but Oh pray tell
Like adding cadence and metaphor well
But I'm no expert so I seldom comment
I mostly enjoy reading without lament
A finely crafted poem, a life of its own
Effects me deeply, gets me in the zone
Though I will admit I'm just an old softy
Most that I've read did touch me subtly
Since I was a young man with pen in his hand
Tried to mimic the greats and think I was grand
As the years rolled on I could see the truth
I was just a fool who quietly seemed aloof
Remembering the world how it used to be
In a simpler time when Bards roamed free
As something came from nothing we surmise
I lived my life with all that it truly implies
In the spirit of good fortune, I write in my rhymes
And try to incorporate the feelings and times
At times, the feel of the sun on my whole body is delicious
How warm, how comforting, how addicting
Of the sun's rays I shall never have enough
Why, amidst life's harsh darting arrows
The warmth of the sun is like a protective umbrella!
At other times, the caress of the wind is arousing
It tends to guide me towards adventure
It tends to bid me to listen to its call
To imagine that somewhere, on high grounds
It can take the form of hot air balloons and just swipe me away!
More, each time, the touch of the rain feels soothing
The flames that inhabit my body die out
And cooled off, I can shake my toils away
And smile at life
As if I were its own queen!
And of course, the wet and cold grass is inviting
On it, I do feel like reclining
For as long as my free time shall allow me to
Grass, smelling like the paths of the other worlds
Bid me to smile, at nothing and no one in particular!
Pray, to enjoy the display of nature
I have chosen to remain unattached
And carefree
Unburdened, even if this implies
That I shall have to be penniless!
Yes, there, scotched on the mountain side, I get to dream
Of flying like birds
Of flying without wings
Of swimming in torrid waters
Of touching the moon, while keeping my feet on Earth!
Pray, I shall not get home tonight
I shall sit and wait on the mountains for the moon to show up
Who knows, I might turn into a werewolf
Or meet a romantic vampire
Who knows where my nature-bent imagination shall take me?
My flowers had not yet even bloomed,
But evil demons gaped at me,
Lust making their eyes sparkle
And saliva drooling from their lips,
Hungry,
For the shade that my garden
Could give to their scorching skin
Their thirst pushed me towards an abyss
Falling into which
I stopped living,
Existing as a mere puppet would,
Needing only my food and my sleep to sustain myself!
But the abyss loved me
To such an extent
That it rejected me back to the surface
And morphed into a man
With eyes so deep
That gazing into them while he cured me,
I felt like I was floating in the abyss itself!
Cured, I was taught to fly
And while flying,
The skies whispered to me
Of those same words that they had spoken to us
Eons ago, but, which evil demons would only
Care to pretend to laugh about, for,
Being what they are implies
Being protected, at all levels, physically and spiritually!
But the bells of time shall ring
The dues will have to be paid
Since I never wished for this experience with death,
I had been pushed into it!
And when those bells shall ring,
My poetry shall heal the world over,
And I shall swim in the cool waters of the abyss,
There where I felt like I was its ruling queen!
13th August 2022
For Contest This or That, Vol 13
Contest Sponsor: Edward Ibeh