Best In Stages Poems
Leaves talking, beautiful demise
If a leaf could talk, it would say, please, take your time
life is acted out in stages, every song has it's rhyme
When a leaf dies, its dynamic impressions in its flight
a stunning display of artistry, dazzling to the sight
Green turns to crimson, flaming tangerine and gold
a leaf's transforming demise is a beauty to behold
As sap runs dry, youthful vitality turns evanescent
the beauty of a leaf's demise is resplendent iridescence
A leaf's downfall, granted, is a casualty of the season
it's journey into oblivion, is transfixing beyond reason
When a leaf, takes its leave, exits gracefully the scene
We're left breathless with the vision, an event to be seen
September17,2016
"Tightropes of the Three Graces"
Tightropes
for hanging clothes
on a line
each piece
pegged wooden
held between closed fences
misfortune's breeze lifts
sleeves like covers
pointing the way home
books and their pages
for The Davenport dancers
all's well that ends well
scene perfect
imperfect fortunes
throughout their ages
the balancing act
seeking Life’s rhyme
saving fates in stages
odd numbers
are never easy,
never graceful
the balancing acts,
tightropes
of the Graces
saving fates in 3 stages
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
mlb, klb, llb
Édouard Bisson , French Pre-Raphaelite
“Die drei Grazien”, 1899
Hans Baldung, German Renaissance and Mannerism
“Three Ages of Man”, 1541 -1544
“Three Graces”, 1539
Sandro Botticelli, Italian Renaissance
“The Three Graces”, 1485 - 1487
From our youth, we have been taught that beauty is only skin deep;
and “It’s in the eyes of the beholder”, is what we like to teach.
Many a head has been turned, and our hearts have taken a leap.
It was breathtaking, as our captured hearts skipped a beat.
I absolutely understand this, and I do tend to agree.
Many were the working hours of driving through the marsh mellow wetlands.
I paused but could not stall as I took in the blessings of beauty in the Fall.
So pleasing and peacefully, the feathered fowls played, rested, and feasted.
So honored and privileged was I just to watch and breathe with the birds.
I have witnessed the carefree and feathered beauty of butterflies flying by.
Such artistic mixtures of colors often arrest and capture even this stoic guy.
And I’m reminded that such beauty was earned in a cocoon, and not given.
It was born out of strength and patience, and not made-up quickies.
Time was crucial, and the work was hard, as the moth long endured.
The butterfly has taught me that beauty develops in stages and unfolds over time. I must continue to learn to wait and dutifully labor through the hard times. Millions of the Monarch Butterflies spend their winters in Central Mexico. Come Spring, may I too, like butterflies, spread my wings and take flight.
12052015PS Contest: For Men Only( Would You, Could You) Write About Butterflies. 2nd contest entry 6/29/20, Butterflies And Marshes Mellow,
Kai Michael Neumann
She has remarkable social ability
To charm with humor and empathy
Her graces are of southern variety
A renaissance lady in modern society
Our journey of life's ups and downs
Is that of long talks, smiles and frowns
When one is lost we go to any length
To help the other find inner strength
Her will is of steel and heart of gold
Wit is quick... tells best stories told
Once faced down a roomful of lawyers
Strong is her faith in the Lord's powers
Our secrets we share - hopes and fears
In stages and layers of laughter and tears
We share our families and our friends
Will nurture and cherish to the end
To have such a friend I am beyond blessed
I don't tell her enough, I must confess
April 23, 2018
New Poems Only - 2 Contest - By Emile Pinet - Theme - Friendship
Eighth Place
She smiled at him on the stairwell
He smiled at the man at the door,
He in turn said "Good Morning"
To the lady sweeping the floors.
She nodded at the passer by
Who then turned around,
And gave a smile to the little girl
Who was wearing such a frown.
The little girl started laughing
And simply passed it on
To her Mother who was with her,
Then they hummed a little song.
The painter in the hallway
Felt tired, and very blue,
Till the old gentleman said
"What a beautiful job you do".
If we would do this everyday
It moves along in stages,
When you smile at everyone
It truly is contagious.
Lynn Barany
I Am A Book
By David J Walker
I am a book of Unread pages
I am a book
I am a book Written in stages in
A travel log On a road called Time
With the foreign stamps Of Passport Ministers
Checking my credentials along the way
I am a book
I am a book Of unread scripture
With the lectures on faith
In staggered chapters and the
Tattered chronicled collections of
Odd jobs We have asked of a Loving God
Written in a foreign language
I am A book
I am a book Of erotic poetry in
Pictograph albums Scrutinized and analyze
Then censored By holier than me censors
I am a book
I am a book With pages numbered
And then sealed Its secrets to be
Revealed in full on an unannounced
Judgment day with Disputes left in the hands of
A Divine Defender
I am a book
I am a book
To be colored Everyday
Where the lines do not matter
Only the hue and The view
In which you see me
I am a book
I am a book Not to be left On the dusty shelf of
A forgotten library Rarely opened in a
Distant history I am a book to be read
And even if misunderstood To be savored
I am a book
It can't be over
You say you can't trust me,
that, suddenly I've changed
what gives you that impression?
it's you that's acting strange!
You know I've always loved you,
more than anyone can
you've been my one and only
and I am still your man
Chorus
I can see you're on your way,
slipping...away from me
starting your new life...
and I'm not in your plans
you really took me by surprise
whatever happened to forever?
It can't be over,
cause I just don't understand.
Why can't you believe me,
there's no one else but you,
I guess, you never knew me
if you think I could betray you!
We've lived our life in stages,
beat the drama, beat it all,
I can see you've won best actress
it's our love's final curtain call
Chorus
I can see you're on your way,
slipping...away from me
starting your new life...
and I'm not in your plans
you really took me by surprise...
whatever happened to forever?
It can't be over,
cause I just don't understand.
There's a war inside you,
I can see it in your eyes
I love you more than ever,
is this how our love dies?
You must fight your delusion,
that leaving is your fate,
I pray, that you'll believe me,
and come back... before it's too late.
Chorus
I can see you're on your way,
slipping...away from me
starting your new life...
and I'm not in your plans
you really took me by surprise...
whatever happened to forever?
It can't be over,
cause I just don't understand.
Repeat chorus
fade to zero
John Derek Hamilton
September 04,2017
Depression fluctuates
It rises and falls in stages
It can make you feel the lowest of lows
like your locked in a bunch of cages.
You don't know what is wrong
and the hallow feeling just keeps
lingering on until you began to fade.
You try with all your might to hold on
tight to the person that flips the pages.
A talent you shall have from the one up above
Words given then written from memory with love
A clever thought of wit and rhymes through time
Transferring them onto parchment written down
Thou shall never look to another for praise
For praise feeds the ego filling the mind with haze
It is the soul that touches others blending one another
These written words shall stay in the heart like thunder
Clipping with roaring wonder though your mind
Each placed together as an orchestra of harmony in time
For the shallow mind will only see blank pages
But, a deep mind will see these memories in stages
Created with letters placed together into one melody
With eyes wondering in thought with intriguing meanings
Reading your mind as if you have become one
A simple poem created by a mind with wonder
that being:
You!
"Because you've deepened the conviction in my soul. I am woman.” Ray Burton
Restful repose.
Seemingly without clothes,
Yet adorned with a quilt.
Serene, no concerned guilt.
Appearing to slumber.
Six women in number,
Or is it just one
In stages til life’s done?
Woman, slyly awake and alert.
Wiles of a temptress she'll assert.
The delicate virgin surrounded by flowers.
Buds turn to blooms as do woman’s powers,
Becoming full and plentiful.
The Painting acts as a sentinel.
Through the ages, she loves and will reproduce,
By gentle round contours her body will induce.
Creating splendid sensuality,
She possesses untold morality.
Depicting an older woman back to the virgin so grounded.
Her gown in purple and blue the maiden is surrounded.
Fertile spirals depicted swirling in reverse,
Showing ever changing woman, in the universe.
I'm a man of many faces
I've carved out over time
I carry them around with me
In a leather bag strapped to my side
Usually I'll leave it up to others
How it is they set the mood
The way we interact
To what face it is I choose
I have a face I use for concern
One I have that looks deep in thought
I'm still working on the one that looks like it's in love
But I'm not sure I'll use it a lot
I've got one that's fairly happy
It's taken years to carve it out
Five different ones in stages of sadness
Two that are riddled with doubt
I hold onto one that no longer fits me
I haven't worn in quite some time
It's the face that I was born with
The innocence of a child
One I've carved over and over
Cause I wear it out all the time
It's the one with the look of disbelief
When it gazes on the state of mankind
I have a face with which I greet strangers
One I use with friends
Also a face that says I'm sorry
If I need to make amends
But there is one I don't carry with me
The face I leave at home
For when I lock my door at night
It's the face I call alone...
About a month or two ago I had this great idea.
To open up a Haiku Shoppe – kinda like a cafeteria.
I knew they were tasty bits and went real well with beer –
But just how many made a mess was never made quite clear.
There are little ones and big ones but somewhere in between
Exists the perfect haiku – ‘bout like a butter bean.
The best ones, they exist beneath the nibs of poets’ pens.
And maturity comes in stages just as harvesting begins.
Baby haikus are the size of grown up mustard seeds
But when harvestin’ is over, they’re just the size you need
Inside the tiny seed, you see, lies a miraculous surprise.
For instantly this tiny seed grows into eatin’ size.
So if a haiku farmer it is your goal to be
You’d better sit awhile and listen close to me.
Government inspectors soon will visit you.
They’ll ask about your farmin’ and tell you what to do.
There are so many dangers in raising fine haikus
And many varied body parts that you are apt to lose.
I’ve seen and heard some awful things – all were very lurid.
But none as painful as the time I sat on some as they matured.
Written by John Posey
12/23/12
It's funny how everything turns around, travels faster than the speed of sound.
how easy we forget the things that matters the most; from every nation to every coast
everyone from all ages are in tune to life's many changes.
It's funny that there's no love anymore and if you do find love after sometime all that love is out the door, it's no pointing of the fingers it just ranges all because of life's many changes. It's strange how you can say one thing and it means another; like "i am here" yet the heart says its a bother.
It's funny that you feel free, no slave masters, no bars and no chain,
you are no one's prisoner but you can never free your brain.
our past teaches us how to embrace the future but what is the future when life is a cycle.
Everything in stages nothing is the same when you turn the pages.
All you see is life and it's many changes.
You will learn and not understand, you will gain and also lose at the sametime
you can be certain and at the same time be filled with doubt, words are effective in actions never when you shout. Sometimes it is in the wrong that we find solutions, there are times when mistakes must be many to arrive at a conclusion. peace is for the peacemaker and animals are for cages it does not matter where you are or who you are life will include you in its many many changes.
Blueprint is to plans as budget is to finance.
Water is to life as accidents are to rages.
People are to mistakes as life is to changes.
It's no mystery, its just life and its many changes.
To welcome rest with dreams and sensation
This reverie of the mind in stages
A sensory input of cognition
And fleeting reality of its pages
Oh, that perception be so reasoning
To wander its world unrecognized, still
To search its furtile fields for everything
Challenge its misty outcomes if you will
Passing of day turned night to day again
Dreams become reality until awaken
To find its realm, this shadowed time of when
Now winding through dreary thoughts forshaken
To close my eyes and claim a space, to rest
Find refuge in dreams, an invited guest
Contest A Dream
The deepest ocean
Becomes shallow at the edge
How deep will you go?
Co-inspired by Raul's contest and by our minister's talk today on Integral Spirals of
Consciousness, going higher and deeper in stages and states.