Best In Reply Poems
Written: February 5th, 2024
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My heart is leaking blood,
I can view hatred flowing,
from every corner of the planet,
a volcano spewing nasty lava,
their voracious acts are suffocating,
the flower that has yet to bloom.
My heart is leaking blood,
antagonism and skepticism are rife,
a deadly snake is gently coiling,
and choke the breath of mankind,
to further their murderous impulses.
My heart is leaking blood,
since darkness invades the psyche,
steeped in narcissism and xenophobia,
a broken culture has misled people,
into thinking differently over faith,
both ethnicity and attire face a threat,
In self-interest and as an adversary.
My heart is leaking blood,
a soul-to-mind debate has ceased,
lurking by avarice and false tenets,
for the eminent aims of foes,
cultures will spread,
as history has predicted.
My heart is leaking blood,
In reply to the cruelty and abuse,
executed upon the cult's people,
despite being freed from rivals,
but have we freed our minds?
My heart is leaking blood,
to ignore these savage fringes,
who has infiltrated minds?
eating away the distinctive,
need mind cleansing before locations,
restored successfully,
everyone must be a self-reformer,
continually striving to be a dear person,
than they were before.
the light within will always guide you;
all you must do is listen and follow.
The mountains and hills shake at His tread,
"Resurrection is nigh", He calls to the dead;
The moon in the heavens grows pale at His wrath,
The sun of the morn disappears from its path.
God of the universe, maker of all,
We ask for your mercy, at your feet we do fall.
The earth's stealthy riches are exposed to your sight,
Nor veiled from you are man's deeds of the night;
The beasts grow timid as they bow at your feet,
And the winds of the sea at your command retreat.
Forever Your greatness over all things,
Maker of all, our King of kings.
When mountains erupt their flames to the sky,
And Lightning's forked tongue, shouts back in reply;
When the stars in the heaven died in their place,
And the malevolent man laughed in your face.
With infinite mercy your anger grew still,
Our crucified Lord on Golgotha's hill.
Yet you forgive all, dear Father above,
And we owe all for your infinite love;
The hands pierced with nails you give for our aid,
You speak through your word to be not afraid.
You are able to comfort whenever we call,
For you there is nothing too great or too small;
Always you hear when we kneel down to pray,
Precious redeemer, help us find our way.
Where would I be without Casarah and Tim?
Would I remain here or just leave on a whim
Usually first to make a comment on my latest write
Both commenting on people’s poems even late at night
They lift my spirits so much during a dark dark day
Join in the banter when my world's in disarray
Continue with the humour and post poems in reply
Make me laugh so much a tear forms in my eye
Incredible poets in their own right
Reading their poems is a sheer delight
Tim’s an incredible dad
Casarah an adoring mum
Little Abby one day a poet will become
Just want to say thank you to such loyal friends
Let us be here for each other so our friendship never ends
Love and Hugs to you both
Jan ***
6th August 2014
The Haunted House
‘Room to Let’ the signage read,
and though it looked run down,
I’d found no other place to stay
since I was new in town.
When I knocked upon the door,
a voice called out, “Please enter.”
“Hello,” I answered in reply.
“I’d like to be your renter.”
A lovely woman greeted me.
She had a toothy smile.
“It’s nice to have the company.
It’s been dead here for a while.”
Outside a wicked wind blew forth.
The front door slammed with a crash.
Just as quickly every window
fell down in their sash.
“I guess a storm’s a-brewing,” I said,
covered in bone-chilling sweat.
“Let me show you to your room.”
replied the shapely tall brunette.
“Some steps here may be rotten,” she warned.
“I urge you to beware.”
Moaning fell with every step
as we climbed the creaky stairs.
The room she showed me looked quite sparse.
Inside was just one coffin.
“Please excuse the dust,” she said,
“I don’t come in here often.”
She wiped away the cobwebs
once we got inside the room.
“It really is quite cozy here.”
Then pointed out the tomb.
“If you like the chamber,
I suggest we both get started.
No other soul will bother us,
They have all departed.”
I laid inside the casket.
It was a perfect fit.
“I believe I could be comfy here,”
I hastened to admit.
“No one here will vex you,”
She signaled with a wave.
“You will find this haunted house of mine
as silent as the grave.”
“I’ll need a small deposit,” she said.
Then, bent and bit my neck.
As she sipped away I asked,
“Do you take traveler’s checks?”
“I’ll take this as collateral.”
She said after she drank.
“There’s no need for money here,
I have my own blood bank.”
August 17, 2018
Sponsor- Dear Heart
Contest- The Haunted House
Title your poem - The Haunted House
I am the maestro
Of land sky and sea
I am
A living
Breathing
Symphony
Of many sounds
And sights
That I have found
Like the BOOM
Of the ocean
When I lift her up
Then throw her down
Her roar
When I roll her
To crash upon the cliffs
Along the shore
Or the tinkling
Of her shattered pieces
Falling back
Into the tide
As I fly - Fly - Fly -
High
Beneath
The blue
Of a North Carolinian sky
Over---
The burning sand
Slipping through
The slender
Sea Grasses
That whistle
As I tickle
Every strand
Whooshing -
Through the cities
And the towns
Tumbling
Bramble bushes
All around
Slamming shutters
And banging doors
Before I leave
Turning every leaf
On every tree
As I fly- fly- fly-
Higher and higher
Piercing
The heavy black clouds
To make them cry
With screams
So loud
They crack the sky
That thunders
In reply
Throwing
Bolts of lighting
Pelting drops of rain
As I fly- fly - fly -
Through the night
Into another day
Where
My concerto
Finally
Comes
To rest
Upon
MY
Dying
b
r
e
a
t
h
What a load of malarkey I just read...
befuddled in disarray inside his head,
but let me make it clear. The message I see
is a misguided statement left for you and me.
It's another 'Hey diddle diddle' moment
for the chap who writes in riddle.
Who gave women the right to breed, he wrote...
taking the chance of birth defects. What the heck!
That kind of mulish thinking I cannot promote,
but since it's his right to post as he may,
I shall take the opportunity to also have a say.
God gave women the right to breed,
in the ability to grow within them a seed.
If He wanted an embryo to proclaim,
"I'll risk being born with half a brain.
and risk the life of my mother, too,"
He'd given them voice before they were born.
Audacious statements made by those who oppose
the will of the Ancient of Days.
That would label them as 'one of those...'
A shortsighted man who'd take such a stand,
thinking he knows best what is wrong or right.
How would he handle having a womb with eggs.
Maybe he would consider soldering shut his legs.
A blowhard whose mother suffered giving birth
for she made the choice to feel the burden of pain.
If she knew what she'd bred,
would she value his worth?
Cold clear water lapped
against the tall green grass
from lakes filled with bass
and red and black robins
stand splashing their backs
Among green waving ferns
lying on the sandy bottoms
As mists gently tiptoe through
on silent feet in early Autumn
Bright yellow dandelions
and white daffodils dot the wilds,
as fragrances of wild rose drifts across the fields
Puffy white clouds hurry by in reply
A shiny red apple hangs alone in the sky
Three girls lay white in the sand
And snow lands gently on feet and hands
Brushed by the wind it wanders thru the night
And each one arrives clean and bright
Red ripe strawberries snuggle against bright green nests
While lazy white rabbits and big black owls rest
Orange and gold leaves float serenely by
Tracing patterns in the fading twilight
And still three girls lay white in the sand
Form:
We wrote poetry in the early dawn
I tasted each line through your parted lips
Desire was penned in whispers softly drawn
Your hand inked strokes upon my curvy hips
We kissed while reciting words of passion
Our tongues murmured love sonnets in reply
Ardent verses are always in fashion
Each breath we took, a pleasurable sigh
I lay beside you, head on your broad chest
Listening to Quatrains in rhythmic beats
The beauty of prose sang within my breast
Romanticism written on silk sheets
Imagery remains inside my heart
Love is a journal of poetic art
>>>>>>>>*
I Am A Waiter
“I am a waiter,” the man said to me,
“ I wait in a restaurant serving luncheon and tea.”
“I am a waiter,” I said with a sigh,
“Where do you wait?” he asked in reply.
“I wait at the bus stop and wait for a train,
I wait in the surgery and wait for a plane.
I wait in the sunshine and wait in the rain
And on a day with nothing to do,
I go in to town and wait in a queue.
Then at the Superstore I never can win,
The next queue is quicker than the queue I am in.
I wait in for hours as instructed before
A van load of deliveries come to my door.”
“A waiter in your restaurant?" I asked, "That would suit me.”
“Yes,” said the man, “Now, just let me see,
It’s thirty minutes for luncheon and fifteen for tea.”
Will You
=====000=====
Will You?
Will you walk with me?
I’m not looking for marriage
Past loves left me so lonely
This pain – I come with baggage
Will you talk to me?
For you erase my sadness
Your counsel helps so much, you see
Without you, I fall to madness
Will you accept me?
Trust issues I tote along
I have fears of what’s to be
But I vow I’ll not do you wrong
By:Carolyn Devonshire
================000===============
Carloyn Devonshire.One of the brightest stars of this site.A poet with a big heart.
And she bares it in her poetry.Very few poets do so.I remember when I joined this
site she always used to encourage me with her inspiring words.That time I felt my poetry pages were incomplete without her comments.She is one of those who
helped me to grow as a poet.In reply to her questions in the above poem,I would
say-- YES CAROLYN, I WILL!!!
A monument to precious arts, a masterpiece you are
With imposing high Baroque columns regally looking down
Upon the dream of sculptors and vision of the Roman era
Evoking ancient memoirs from grandeur of renaissance.
Tickling your marble stature, foaming water giggles down
As you empower Oceanus on a chariot lead by Tritons
Beaming your glamorous sight on authentic ornate art
Dazzling decorative architecture for enchanted crowds.
When street winds bellow in, shimmering bright light-beams
In your stare you hold strangers, as they sing your praises.
Enhancing theme, Trevi Fountain, you arouse playful gleams
Flaunting your smiles upon glittering green water streams.
Splendor of Neptune emanates from your renown beauty
Granting wishes of the sensuous amorous sensibilities--
Seeking sea-God's blessings, they toss in two lucky coins
And in reply you echo their vibes: the wish was you and I.
June 15, 2019
Placed 2nd: Your choice (10) personification contest by Brian Strand
NOTE:
The Trevi Fountain is a tourist attraction located in Rome, Italy. The fountain is famous for its Baroque architecture and decorative ornate art. The center piece is the Greek sea God Oceanus (representing the sea God Neptune), riding his chariot pulled by two sea horses and accompanied by two Tritons. Throwing two coins in the fountain symbolizes romance. One coin assures return trip to Rome. Three coins symbolize wedding bells.
The black moving night a covering shawl
Will circle the world ahead of the dawn
While we underneath are always in awe
Of changes in the light we look upon
Beautiful colors from gradual change
They enter the eye of the artist's mind
As pages are filled, descriptions exchanged
The written word leaves pictures to remind
The hand of the heart holding flowing quills
To describe and lay across the pages
And words from artists could never fulfill
Changing skies they have seen through the ages
A bow to the artist who paints the sky
And poets, for words they write in reply
Fields of stars blanket warm summer skies
Songs of crickets and cicadas overwhelm the senses
In reply, fireflies dot the lawn
Full of dandelions and buttercups waiting for dawn
Far away flashes of summer heat strike with no sound
Showing distant lands and tops of massive thunderclouds
Soft shadows decorate the walls
upon silent ears quiet murmurings fall
a transistor radio blares its tiny sound
of ballgames in concrete stadiums ,
bright lights and a pitchers mound
Overhead fans stir dark sleepy rooms
Screened in porches give way to fleeting cool breezes
Heavy lids with dreams in flight
Soften those warm summer nights
Form:
Written: March 09, 2024
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It's utterly aquiver and ambivalent
With is a glimmer of modesty
His fame stems from promoting peace
But who holds the power to bedraggle?
Let's embrace bel esprit, compassion, and mercy.
There is a path betwixt utterance and ubiquity
where knowledge flows freely
In quiet sternness, it evolves...
It wraps with a meandering debate.
Behold those who wept covertly,
Who wastes these precious tears?
When some dreams come to a halt,
Life endures and perseveres.
Who moistens their life, oh you?
Who bathes, but why won't submerge?
When water drifts away and out...
The monsoon remains never fades away.
A sacrifice can lead to martyrdom,
They have a way of shaping history
And confronts the dishonesty.
Fostering defiance and optimism,
aim for an idyllic future,
Leave a legacy.
And participate in upheaval.
What purpose does the blood serve?
Is it futile to draw that to a boil?
What's beneficial is the blood?
Is there a way to safeguard the soil?
Everyone raised a voice in reply,
Ahead of us is a fierce opponent
For the sake of the homeland,
We will shed our blood.
To pause and ponder on what could have been
And visit, a time of love, not distort
To change its outcome of judgment turned in
And seek a new trial in my heart's court
Yesterday's embers have grown dimmer now
The evidence suggests nothing would change
Wishes and hopes can raise a folly's brow
To relive what was before and rearrange
To dream of love as it was to begin
And light the stars bright in a darkened sky
To kiss my love's mouth with passion again
And feel the pulse of her heart in reply
Would that I could turn back the hands of time
And find it was the love of a lifetime
10/8/19 contest If only we could turn back the hands of time