Best In Turn Poems
When a Man Loves a Woman
A man who loves a woman in the way
a woman wants him to will love her true.
He’ll hold her close, and never will he stray.
But there is so much more this man will do!
He’ll build her up because her self-esteem
should matter, and a woman valued can,
in turn, fulfill her husband’s fondest dream.
How fortunate, indeed, is such a man!
When generous with kind words and his time,
the man who loves his woman heart and soul
will find himself enjoying life sublime
because he will have taken on the role
of not just a provider! He will give
his heart, and like the king of hearts he’ll live!
When a Woman Loves a Man
The woman who adores her man will be
his greatest fan; she will not criticize
his faults, and she will pledge fidelity,
for life with him is something she will prize.
Her tender love will be her greatest gift
that she can give to him, and she will show
appreciation. Always she will lift
him up so that the man she loves will know
beyond a doubt she always will be there.
When times get tough, she won’t give up on him.
Who doesn’t want some tender loving care,
especially when things are looking grim?
The woman standing by her man this way
will be his queen, and happy they will stay.
Written Jan. 5, 2016
For Mark Massey's Two English Sonnets Poetry Contest
A book that I plucked
from an antiquity of books
filled my nostrils
with a smell that I will always know
and always love.
This love cannot be explained,
but neither could any indifference.
At the back of the hall,
distant from and opposite to
the comical speaker's rostrum,
behind rows of chairs filled
with the attentive and the obliged
and the hands raised in angst
to express righteousness
and cleverness
(look at me ! hear me !),
I, too, would be righteous
and clever some day
(wasn't that clever ?),
but those dusty old books !
And who could forget God's hand ?
It thrust earthword,
its sword gleamed
a split second before cleaving
a wicked man in two,
skull to groin,
a dusty old book
among dusty old books,
explored with petrified daring
by fingers so tiny they're forgotten.
A platoon of books competing,
all to be explored in turn,
some more readily than others,
all old, all dusty, all so rich in scent,
none to be forgotten,
never to be forgotten.
5th July 2020
I shore up my doubt, behind a loosely bound hope
Which in turn is propped up without foundation
Cynical of a life, at the mercy of luck
Collateral damage feeds my reservation
I shore up my tomorrow with what I see today
Without conspiracy or investigation
I place trust in all that’s completely unfettered
For fear, I’m left to this present resignation
I shore up my life with whatever came before
Not hindsight or academic education
The oblivion traversed until I was born
Strings along primal echoes of information
I shore up my conscious with bliss and ignorance
Interspersed with indifference on occasion
It’s not I don’t care about suffering and death
Rather, I’m desensitised by their pervasion
I shore up my denial with an open mind
Which is nothing except raw interpretation
This planet spins correctly, even though tilted
Not by wishful thinking, but strange gravitation
I shore up my boredom, trying to fall asleep
When really tired, will attempt hibernation
Anything to forget this human condition
After remembering, I’m long past salvation
I shore up my heaven, by creating a hell
Balance looks more appealing, in an equation
Gaze upon purgatory, and share what I see
Not because I’m kind, it’s more my destination
I shore up this poem by claiming it’s my own
But in truth, it’s an open collaboration
I conspire with the musings of all that’s unclear
They dwell inside me, in flawless aberration
- - - - - - -
(And as the sky darkened I heard these words)
better to face hell alone ~ than bring the whole world along for the ride
said the moon eclipsing the sun ~ who replied son I’m right behind you
A visitor—
icicle fingers
tapping on my windows' pain—
white blanket in tow
Hurting enough, I paid him no mind
so he kept tap, tap, tapping
‘til cobweb-like cracks appeared:
a final, gentle tap
shatters my windows
My rainbow world
now smothered, pallid,
forced into boredom and slumber,
sunlight chased away
and I am never the same again…
Soul gets plunged deep in the cold
blinded by whiteness, numbed with simplicity
there is an eerie stillness,
almost as if no one dared to breathe,
even the barren trees refused to quiver
brittle dendrites seem to claw the sky
futile though, for they are frozen,
grasping at nothingness,
clouds stubborn and stoic,
brooding in silent grayness
…and then from within, a filigreed whisper escapes
palpable and brave~
it weaves its way through the branches,
gathering strength wherever it went
it beckons to the sky, which in turn
gives in and celebrates ~
letting dainty confetti fall
white, yet amazingly graceful
each flake falls softly on the ground—
a fashionable brocade
trees softly sway now,
and dance to a winter song
the sky weeps with happiness
for seeing a glimpse of life—
diamond teardrops
they catch a bit of evasive sunlight,
of which I thought I’ve lost
and give birth to miniature rainbows…
all this time, Sunlight was there
I just
never knew
how to
catch
it.
an audio of me reciting this poem
http://www.4shared.com/music/Q_tqp2LEba/suncatcher.html?#
My mental health is complicated
Now euphoric, next sedated
Nightmares daily duplicated
All my friends are alienated
Happy times? They're confiscated
Mental health is complicated
My mental health is temperamental
One day strong, the next I tremble
Demon thoughts in turn assemble
Scars you see? Not accidental!
Happy/sad so incidental
Mental health is temperamental
My mental health is so unstable
Able battles with Unable
Joy is nothing but a fable
Traumas each a different label
Hide then dance up on the table
Mental health is so unstable
My mental health is oscillating
Praising now, then deprecating
Morbid days turn scintillating
Love now, hate now: aggravating
Soothing words are non-placating
Mental health is oscillating
My mental health is so confusing
Flattering and then accusing
Comforting when not abusing
All my sanity consuming
"End it now" my life pursuing
Mental health is so confusing
The Master left to go away,
But, being wise and just,
He first called forth three servants and
Placed Talents in their trust.
According to their proven skills
He portioned out their share:
Five to the first, the second two
One to the last man there.
And once the Master went away
The man he gave the five
Invested what he had been lent
And made his Talents thrive.
The man who had been given two
Worked hard to earn yet more,
But he who had been given one
Hid his beneath the floor.
After a time the Master came
Returning from his task
And bid his servants come to Him
With but one thing to ask.
"With what I had entrusted you
Now give me your account."
The man to whom was given five
Had doubled his amount.
In turn, the man He'd given two
Had turned them into four.
The Master said, "Well done my sons,
Now I will give you more."
The last whose Talent had been hid
Rushed forth to plead his case.
"I have protected what you gave
Within a secret place."
The Master, disapproving, looked
Upon his share returned.
"What good can hidden Talents do?
They yield no profit earned."
That Talent then He gave to he
Whose faithfulness was proved,
And from the man who had but one
His little was removed.
The moral of this story then
If you have ears to hear
Is we are given portions of
Which we are overseer.
Don't let your talents waste unknown
Whether they're small or great.
Whatever talents you possess
Should even more create.
9.16.18
Contest: Parable of the Talents
The give and take in love should reach a mean
whereby the two be equally disbursed,
so givers' hearts would never suffer lean,
cold hungry hours without love reimbursed.
And those who take would never reach the stage
of ravenous and selfish, one-way traits.
Such balance would create a better age,
if give and take maintained their equal weights.
But somehow this could never balance out,
for givers give beyond the gifts they bear;
in turn, must feed on crumbs, for without doubt;
the hungry takers take beyond their share.
While takers tip the scale with all they gain,
the givers, weak and thin, smile through their pain.
Sandra M. Haight
~7th Place~
Premiere Contest: Any HM Ever
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 01/22/2017
~ Honorable Mention~
Contest: Love Justice
Sponsor: Justin Bordner
Judged: 01/24/2015
A wordless song drifts from your eyes
with rhyme disguised in poems lost
from heavens smile your heart replies
assuming risk, no fear the cost
You dare not weep to dampen dreams
but pledge to take this hand of chance
no less from love this passion streams
in turn of fate not circumstance
Left breathless from a lovers kiss
this treasure found its place in time
a pleasure true, no more than this
not once rehearsed in pantomime
Within each heart pure beauty lives
When fancies flight is there to give
04/04/2017
Like a frozen soul in silent stillness,
crisp mist returns like forgotten debris.
Carpet of scarlet leaves lay on green grass,
dew drops seem like tears from crying trees.
Lost in thought in a world I’ve created
Gazing at trees in their autumn attire
Tears are falling like the vibrant leaves
In their final grand spiral of fire
I am the sadness of the season
in turn I anticipate the impending chill
Stability fades and my emotions churn
I can’t see beyond this steep hill
Nature's palette has turned my golds to grey,
as broken branches compose songs of sorrow.
Canopy of clouds mean sun casts no shadow,
and each path before me is dark and narrow.
A collaboration between Silent One and Judy Stickels.
15 October 2020
Judy has not written in a while, so I wanted to encourage her to write.
The beauty of poetry is that we can share and together make words stronger.
The space between stars contains countless hidden gems
A locked tight treasure trove, opened up by our lens
Prisms split apart light spectra, and dopplers change shifts
We watch galaxies do cartwheels across great rifts
The space between stars, zooms us backwards in time
Before gods arrived, to claim the cosmos divine
In turn challenged by telescopes on trellised stilts
Optics probe heaven, to find it’s still being built
The space between stars is empty, No! not a chance
Black holes wolf down photons, spinning neutron stars dance
on nebulous clouds, stirring up pillars of dust
Remnants from a time, when supernovae went bust
The space between stars, is black magic synergy
Far-out matter thrives, tripping on dark energy
All goes unseen, beyond the human naked eye
Minds can sense its presence, but are stripped bare of why
Of course we share gravity, and are loosely bound
Tests our reason, so hermetically profound
The draw of the universe will never expire
Its paradox tears apart, yet keeps us entire
I shore up my doubt, behind a loosely bound hope
Which in turn is propped up without foundation
Cynical of a life, at the mercy of luck
Collateral damage feeds my reservation
I shore my up tomorrow with what I see today
Without conspiracy or investigation
I place trust in all that’s completely unfettered
For fear, I’m left to this present resignation
I shore up my life with whatever came before
Not hindsight or academic education
The oblivion traversed until I was born
Strings along primal echoes of information
I shore up my conscious with bliss and ignorance
Interspersed with indifference on occasion
It’s not I don’t care about suffering and death
Rather, I’m desensitised by their pervasion
I shore up my denial with an open mind
Which is nothing except raw interpretation
This planet spins correctly, even though tilted
Not by wishful thinking, but strange gravitation
I shore up my boredom, trying to fall asleep
When really tired, will attempt hibernation
Anything to forget this human condition
After remembering, I’m long past salvation
I shore up my heaven, by creating a hell
Balance looks more appealing, in an equation
Gaze upon purgatory, and share what I see
Not because I’m kind, it’s more my destination
I shore up my poem by claiming it’s my own
But in truth, it’s an open collaboration
I conspire with the musings of all that’s unclear
They dwell inside me, in flawless aberration
- - - - - - -
(And as the sky darkened I heard these words)
better to face hell alone ~ than bring the whole world along for the ride
said the moon eclipsing the sun ~ who replied son I’m right behind you
By
David Kavanagh
In the warmth of a summer sunset, I sat idle,
on the sea shore looking at the grey enormity
that heaved and swelled in turn.
Before me was the wild brutality of the sea!
Though at times she is calm and windless,
a smouldering volcano lies beneath her surface.
I sat away from the crowd in a cool square of quiet
inhaling the briny air, enjoying the foam and spray
My mind then was light as that of a child,
that plays on the sea shore, making sand castles.
I watched small boats carrying men.
They were heading towards the Casino moored in the inlet of the sea.
I felt those men were like flies lured by the flame.
They come either to perish or to prosper,
most of them go back with empty wallets!
My eyes stretched far into the horizon.
Swallows were circling beneath tangled clouds.
The tall masts of ships could be seen at a distance
and ever growing waves drifted and strayed
as the fabric of blue got continuously shredded.
For fun I scribbled my name on the sands,
but a wave came crashing against and washed it away
Was it here or there, I had scrawled my signature,
I don’t know. It has vanished leaving no trace.
Suddenly from a child, I grew into a sage.
How transient is man’s life on Earth
How very tiny we are set against the vastness of the sea
In the wide expanse of life, as on a sea shore,
we scribble our names to stay.
Alas! Some unknown hands wipe them away
Abandon Dead Trails And Thy Sybarite Lust
If Nature's earthen-fires thy bosom holds
and thy heart's countenance mind's eye thus sees;
life serves best those adventurously bold,
walking worn paths, resting under its trees.
Seek in truth the great beauty God has made
the opulence of colors in blue skies;
let not dark, thy human empathy degrade
to sorrows that in turn, love's joys deny.
Instead, denude kings of their purple cloaks
and the golden castles they have stolen;
take time to visit regale forest oaks,
ride the rapids of rivers swift and swollen.
Abandon dead trails, thy Sybarite lusts
in Nature's awe, seeking heart there adjusts.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-18-2018
Sonnet, ( Nature's Great Gifts And Its Awesome Healing Powers)
You abused me physically and mentally,
I believed I was everything you said.
I thought you had my back totally,
But my belief in you was hanging by a thread.
I was locked in a mental jail cell.
you were a warden of abuse,
our union together was pure hell.
You would often say I just blew a fuse.
Your vicious attacks tarnished my self worth,
that I constantly questioned my birth.
When I finally got the strength to leave ,
I sabotaged relationships like you wouldn't believe .
Because I was still in a mental prison of abuse,
you remained the warden of my life.
I gave up on relationships and said what’s the use,
my life with you was pure misery and strife.
I hated you right down to the core,
my hatred for you was never a bore.
Until someone shared the good news,
of Jesus Christ, I had nothing to lose.
I accepted him in my heart on that day,
he represents love and forgiveness.
By showing us how to live, he paved the way,
he walked in love and kindness.
He forgave me for all that I had done,
and it felt really good .
I accepted that the victory was already won.
I took my power back, like I should.
I felt free and no longer bound,
therefore I was able to stand my ground.
I had no choice but to forgive you,
and I am no longer sad and blue.
In that moment I took my power back,
I didn’t stress over what I lack.
I want to share my freedom with others like me,
so they in turn can be totally free.
Inspired by the “Healing Power Of Forgiveness.
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Note* I made some changes to the original poem due to contest requirement. I am most happy with the original version. Let me know what you all think.
10-30-17
Big things in small packages, so goes the phrase
And astounding, a spoonful of snow, in such ways
A thousand frost miracles, and identical, none
Innumerable prisms making rainbows from sun
Each with its detail of wonders, unique
Chilled to perfection to tickle your cheek ...
Spoonfuls, that if balled, are fun to be flung
Pleasurably melted when placed on your tongue
Just enough snow for a friend, I would think
To get their attention, or cool down a drink
Limpid complexities with formations, fine
Chiseled by a physical process, divine ...
Jewels from the heavens as winter clouds weep
The crystalline tears of a season's cold creep
Transparent and clear, and cleaving the light
Yet bundled together, the whitest of white
Like so much we see, they're plain at-a-glance
Yet examined up-close, are sure to entrance
So ...
Maybe there's a lesson that we can thus learn
To look at each OTHER more closely, in turn
For the inestimable qualities surfaces hide
And the precious complexion of what is INSIDE
By remembering always, wherever we go
The amazement and magic in a spoonful ...
Of snow.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Christmas Rhymes" Poetry Contest, Kim Rodrigues, Judge & Sponsor.