Best Implores Poems
Love neither gives or takes but from itself.
Be not wiled by fantasies of arrogance.
Take no more than is offered by yourself.
Leave nothing trapped in tortured irrelevance.
Seek not a barter for desires that sue your heart.
Worthiness is the only tender that comes due.
Suffer willingly the melody of pain it may impart.
Bleed joyfully from the wounds that will ensue.
As tree branches lift their hopes towards Heaven's door,
hands together reaching higher than alone will seek
heights that love's imagination most beautifully implores
that from a poets words unending ecstasy must speak.
Whatever you desire your life to be,
may loves reflection be all you see
Be it known as convenience food, junk food or munchies;
whether spicy, melt-in-your-mouth soft, or crunchy,
food, inglorious food, seduces with ease
and ensnares with the emptiest of calories.
Disguised as a comfort food comes macaroni
with creamy Alfredo and kin, Fettucini,
To not be outdone, spaghetti entices
with large fattening meatballs and sauce rich in spices.
“Deep fried” knows our weakness for fat, which gives pleasure
and saturates fast foods, it seems, in great measure:
KFC (finger-licking), batter-fried fishes
and chicken fried steaks -high cholesterol dishes.
Even fruits will attack with enjoyment unhealthy
as tarts, pies or pastries. That apple is stealthy!
Veggies can also be treacherous things
in guise of corn fritters and gold onion rings.
Too much of a good thing is pizza (so cunning,
so meaty, so cheesy), which no one is shunning.
The taco, burrito, and big burger too
in great numbers descend on us. What can we do?
Those delectable luscious desserts that we eat
have only to sit there; we cannot retreat!
Candies and chocolate, our decadent sin,
sweetly defeat us. We simply give in.
Ice cream, a smooth foe, knows when we are blue.
On a cone or a spoon, it drips, waiting for you.
As a milkshake, a frosty, a sundae or float,
or between split bananas, it sure floats MY boat!
Buttered popcorn is one salty foe, and we love it!
The hot dog implores in our mouths that we shove it.
Baked bread, so alluring, entraps with its scent,
which wafts through the air as if heaven sent!
The standards of junk food -America’s pride -
crisp bacon and nachos, chips and foods fried,
invade our malls’ food courts and lurk high and low.
Their smells overwhelm us wherever we go!
We might try but we can’t make our junk food desist.
for only the health nuts can dare to resist.
In the war with inglorious food I adore,
I say, Bring it on! Here’s my plate; I want more.
For the The Synathroesmic Cat Contest Poetry contest of Suzanne Delaney
*So now you can all know why I try to get to the gym a lot. hahaha
Bluebells in chime are shadows in training,
beech trees rising in a sheltering sky.
Sunlight peeks through, the merest of raining,
to guide the mauve buds to darkness close by.
Wind in the forest wafts in refraining.
Violet implores the young they must fly.
But until they're ready fledglings must wait
to one day assume their amethyst fate.
1st Place
Early July Standard Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
7/4/17
The Wishes of Winter
A wish upon Orion
As winter broods upon a nest
Of sheltered evergreen boughs
For hope
Cradled in a bower formed by archangel wings.
With weathered sighs,
Living in the presence of the Creator’s plan,
Winter gazes on a world come alive
In Genesis
Full of grace in pure distilled merriment.
Bronze wishes, like pennies,
Heaven sent with nascent joy
For every heart to magnify
Brilliant glory
And Noel’s anticipation to remain.
A wish upon a winter star
For memories of generous wonder awe,
Frozen in shouts of jubilation,
To nourish
Starving souls imagined by the Word and Light.
Icy solstice in hibernation
Sends a plea through longest nights
Divine whimsy to swoop away
Invading darkness
With perpetual aurora dancing dawns
Intercession implores goodwill
Permanent uncontrollable mirth
To abide in the whispers of gladness
Silver linings
New Genesis at redemption’s first watch
12-9-21
Contest: Winter Wishes
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
**V**
\ /
\ /
v
He is her knight in shining armor in all angles and sight…
He has all the courage to go and ask her hand,
From the woman’s father who’s well-known as a noble man;
Words of humiliations, he swallows them all,
He is a commoner but his love for her is so true and pure.
Despite their opprobrium, he keeps fighting for his great love,
In a humble way, he begs for her parents’ blessings
knocking their wooden heart;
Bowing before her father… he implores…
Making faithful promises to keep forevermore.
His heart of gold and few hectares of land
enough dowries he can give,
all for his dearest one.
For she’s their only daughter,
their lovely princess
very precious,
and so pretty-she really is.
The suitor’s words are passionate, fervent and firm,
The man is so adamant, he still refuses him,
His words continue…spewing cogent powers…
Finally melts her mother’s heart---
His struggles to win her and be both blessed will soon be over,
He’ll surely conquer for his love is so great proven to last forever.
Sept. 17, 2013 9.25 pm
©2013by Leonora Galinta
First Place
Contest: Epic Only
Judged: 9/24/2013
Sponsor: Greatest Poet PD
Ninth Place
Contest: In Honor of Painter Charles Haigh Wood & His Painting
Judged: 10/1/2013
Sponsor: Poet Isaiah Zerbst
My head rests on the doorframe, as I'm watching him at work.
I'm jealous of the devotion, and the motion of his hands,
much surprised at the green-eyed dragon that lurks within my mind,
while he rubs the pungent oil into muscles of the pine.
With rolled up sleeves, a sweaty brow, his rough, sandpaper hands.
he hones a smile along the aisle of every strand of wood
With even strokes, a time-worn cloak is peeled back and released,
where the onion skin of years and wear
had been entombed beneath the grain
He groans with satisfaction, (this Frankenstein, of mine),
while something worn, and tossed away,
is brought to life.
Back from the dead
A shimmering sheen, patina gleams while morning light slides in,
I think I see a swirl of smoke that curls above his head
And the warmth of the wood has sizzled hot, as if the sun came up
No awareness of the passion, engrained upon his face,
he sees me not, .... or my jealous want,.......His needs have been erased.
The lingering scent of linseed has claimed my breathing space
There are swarming nests of sawdust , cart-wheeling in the air,
a strand of hair, falls out of place.......and I cannot tear my eyes from here
The sensual, taunting, simple grace.......my eyes have begged to stay
I stare and marvel, for awhile
A shiver up my spine, implores.....to touch the man I face,
release his trancelike state of mind,
and let his fingers trace
________________________________________
I would like to ponder wisdom
loving relationships and things
A life lived beyond good intentions
What it means to have strong wings
To know that life has a purpose
When it is lived beyond myself
I don't need to fill all my cupboards
It's better that I share the wealth
All those things I think I'm needing
are trapping me within the want
I see heartache written in graffiti
Why am I blinded by colourful font
If my more means that I'm taking
Is any of it truly gain
Others find food in dumpsters
and I am ignorant to their pain
In this world of want and plenty
I know I have more than my share
By remembering where it came from
I should know I have plenty to spare
God implores me to be giving
To have faith He won't let me down
These hands have a special purpose
If I'm willing to venture down town!
The waves crushing her tiny body with striking blows
White creamy wash caresses her golden skin as the wave slows
Moving sluggishly towards the horizon
Because of a recurring vision she hopes she’ll arise in
Her feet digging deep into the sand as it sinks between her toes
Emersed, with arms folded she prepares and off she goes
The cool oceans breeze kisses her beet-red cheeks
It knows what she’s come for and what she seeks
Sunshine drips onto coppery auburn locks shimmering, it lifts
A pale honey-wheat straw sunhat spins away and drifts
Almost completely submerged in salty brazen waters
Compelled at this point with the nauticus mythic plotters
Shut against blaring sunrays are her deep emerald eyes
Her sunburnt face gazing up at vanilla skys
She meditates on what had before appeared, a glimpse
Of the siren with long flowing raven hair and other nymphs
Teeth chattering to tapping sounds like wooden castanets do
Contain her trembling lips she can’t, they turn purplish merlot-blue
Shaking from an Autumn’s cold spell, she imagines she’s a mermaid
But diving in opaque murky silt wasn’t what she had expected
Her bare flesh emerging from impure poisonous rot of green
Blood red ripples dripping from the clouds that are unseen
Neither she nor the fierce Cyrene, Apollos wife the naiad should dread
Numbing overcomes her at last she hears the siren singing in her head
Paralyzing fragments of her hallucination now bestow
A gifted sacrifice her (secret thoughts) needed for soothing waves to flow
In the distance a cranberry sun sets, now streaks of pink implores
A darkened blue-green sea, maroon and sapphire shores
A beautiful mermaid appears and thanks her for her secret thought
That only love for the deep blue sea (the ocean is life) and to all this be taught
Societies Shame
02/09/2018
Toothless grin implores
Pleading eyes so pained
People passing ignore
Beggar should be ashamed
Compassionless society
Lazy get a job
Regardless of sobriety
People lose all hope
Victim of circumstance
Job loss, mental health
Heartbreaking happenstance
Me relative wealth
Reach down deep
Cashless society
No place to sleep
One eye open nightly
No change given
Change a mans life
Suicide driven
Problematic rife
Never with cash
Unable to help
Make a mad dash
Bank Commonwealth
Change for a man
Giver not receiver
My helping hand
Made a believer
Help others I implore
So much to gain
My heart left raw
Society to blame
Passion has this unyielding power
Filling our desired need
Entirely so free of greed
Like the sun beaming on a flower
A wanting yearning aching urge
Bottled up hidden as we grow
A fairy tale we crave to know
A longing for our love to surge
Magnetic chemistry silently implores
Creating a desire burning deep
Sizzling kisses no longer meek
Lovers curiously eager to explore
Passion an undeniable emotion
Always lending us what we crave
Being adored by a heart so brave
God blessed us all with this devotion~
The rain outside my door
Its talk, a calming effect
Upon my restless spirit, implores
the need to reflect.
The rain, drenching the moors
Its pounding upon rocky crests
Like the clapping of hands, soars
Upon the senses, dissolving stress.
The rain inviting me outdoors
Its plead to leave the comfort of concepts
Exchanging the warmth of safe indoors
For the dramatic cold of clarity, intercepts.
The rain, cleansing a downpour
Its relentlessness stripping the walls erected
Around the damaged heart, explores
Upon new possibilities, wider directed.
The rain, beckoning a force
Its puddles upon my feet impress
With childlike laughter, a dance extorts
Revving the spirit, the genuine soul expressed.
By CarolineCécile
copyright © 02.06.10
Rebirth
Grey ghostly clarions
Swiftly travel
To the east of darkling day
Riding on a dirge wind
Blowing harsh
Over waters that reflect
The fading dawn
When they turn to blood red,
Glowing crimson,
As they color the vast and swirling grey
Trumpeting to the earth,
With light retreating,
The call of night
Where black and twisting tree limbs
Stretch
Into the clarion sky
To grasp at daylight fleeing
While through their naked
Leafless fingers
Arias of monotones
Rise up on whistling winds
As unbelieving earth implores
The gloom descending,
With feeble lights,
Be gone!
Then wait beneath the clarion shadows
Entombed in sleep –
Still as death, chilled and numb –
For the morning star to spread
Like warm fingers
Across the ghostly clarions
Turning them into the daystar’s turquoise pearl,
Telling lightless earth
“Arise!”
See life reborn in light!
Love -implores
Lust –explores
Hunger-feeds
Craving-needs
Having -delusions
Being -confusions
Waiting is a waste of time
Doing quickens the sublime
Wisdom rules
A world of fools
My wounded heart implores
Me for the people and places before
Gentle things and sincere
I still feel them oh so near
Did you remember to say thank-you
For those things they did for you
Harken back and feel it inside
Less is more for you to abide
I would like to see them again
And speak to them as family and friends
The moments then not outstanding
Now to me inside demanding.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Fleeting light streams through the broken window pane.
Flickering, as the only movement trying to bring life in vain.
The stillness is dense and dust lays thickly as all is grey.
The old house utters the softest moan, resisting evident decay.
There is an aura of shame, that it has been discovered this way,
Yet a distinct welcoming can be felt, its coupled with dismay.
The peeling paper on the walls, its former charm subsided,
The floorboards dry and cracked, beliefs of safety are misguided.
A yearning can be felt, a plea to resurrect it to its former glory.
Neglect has cruelly buried many a wonderful forgotten story.
The old house stands defiant against the storms the wind and flood.
One hundred years ago it was built with sweat, tears and even blood.
From its eaves and rafters to its foundations, it was built with pride.
A murmur comes from each empty room, heard faintly from deep inside.
Tears of its soul are felt. Whispers “rescue and restore me” it implores.
Gone are the wonderful stories, as the oncoming bulldozer roars.