Best Incessantly Poems
cascading
sheets of silver water
spill incessantly into the lake
thundering
beauty before our eyes
beckons us to bathe in radiance
lost in froth
we find ourselves engulfed
by nature’s pulse, shimmering delight
lost in love
my heart is pounding too
falling with the water - into you
Written Oct. 30, 2014
for the SOME FORM OF CRYSTALLINE Contest of nette onclaud
Now for A Strand (1063) Poetry Contest
Each day dawns laden with secrets.
The morning dews are crystal balls,
each holding a secret trailer of
a fragment of day.
The birds, chirping incessantly,
gossip among themselves about the
delightful things you’ll find at
the weekend market.
In the crevice between the sun's
virginal light and last night's shadows,
an old friend waits for a
scheduled chance encounter,
bearing a gift of forgotten memories.
Fresh brew drips into the carafe of your
old coffee machine, tapping out
a Morse code of the new
thoughts and feelings that will percolate
into your brain in the hours to come.
And the curtains billow with echoes
of the laughs to be laughed.
The day is waiting to confess
its plans for you.
The scarlet of the sky recedes from sight,
and whisperings of wildness are heard.
As shadows rush to fill the summer’s night,
they’re ushered in by call of mocking bird.
On pebbled shoreline of a shallow pond
appears a fawn once hid behind a tree.
The forest creatures murmur from beyond
damp spots where frogs now croak incessantly.
I hear soft sound of splashing and I rise
to see a duckling paddling along.
I watch him disappear, then close my eyes. . .
this time, to hear a night bird’s soothing song.
And though the ground is hard, I know that I
will dream in bliss to Woodland’s Lullaby.
For 'A STRAND (1062)' Contest
Faraway, across a widening
Expanse of vacant fields,
Dawns slated light is gradually
Awaking;
And too soon new Morn's stilled
Indifference
Determinedly steals
Into the abstractions of my fitful
Dreams,
Where, deeply concealed,
Many forgotten memories from days
Since past -
Ne'er once unto me unworthy...
Although long be they in their
Forsaking.
Those languid days, that, lately,
I quite often see and hear
Crowding throughout my wandering
Slumbers;
Vivid recollections, interns of a
Jumbled mind - for ages absent,
Beginning now to inexplicably reappear;
Insistent murmurings troubling -
Troubling incessantly:-
Unwelcomed guests from
Yesteryear...
Strange impositions, of a sorts,
Burdening upon this weary soul,
Which, encamped within my
Dampened Spirits -
Doth so unwittingly encumber!
A Birthday Poem For My Very Special Friend
(This is also composed for my dear friend, PD)
Your birthday is indeed a great time of gaiety,
It calls for a celebration, a Grand Poetic Party
But, what I have just said is only a secondary
Most importantly, your life is great and healthy.
I am writing this poem first and foremost,
To send my love and best wishes to the most
For all the dreams of yours, let’s make a toast
May they all be fulfilled without any cost.
Since, I don’t have here your complete address,
I cannot send you chocolates, cakes or roses
So, I’ll just send my fervent prayer for success
To God, He may protect you, guide you and bless.
I will also enclose in these lines of my poem,
My songs of bliss for you and your family at home,
May you be free from all worries and gloom
Age added but, you’re a gal who incessantly bloom.
My dearest friend Linda, have a very happy birthday,
If you are only here, I’ll dance with you today,
Like a lady on her debut on the 18th Natal Day
You’re our Grand Celebrity in ‘tis Land of Poetry.
Note:
(Reposting)
This will be my advance Happy, Happy Birthday Poem to my DEAREST friend and CO-LIBRAN on the Soup, LINDA or PD. Three days from now will already be her BIRTHDAY MONTH. I AM SO EXCITED AND I AM LOOKING FORWARD FOR THE DATE, OCT. 7. Honestly, THIS POEM WAS ORIGINALLY WRITTEN FOR HER BECAUSE I KNOW HER MORE AND SHE ACTUALLY HAS GIVEN ME THE INSPIRATION TO WRITE A BIRTHDAY POEM FOR THE CONTEST !!ADVANCE HAPPY, HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY DEAREST FRIEND!!! Love yah!
Written: Sept. 25,2012
Truth burns at the center of all occurrance,
it is a heat that motivates appettites to enlarge,
truth is a multiplier of quests,
satisfaction always arrives at the porch of a new path,
truth does not reveal endings, only beginings that behave
like currents pushing towards a shore,
truth demands stamina from the finder as well from the seeker,
it dashes in delight from the tired,
indolence receives no invitation from truth because laziness is a debtor,
a fish with no gills,
credit walks not from the bank steps of truth,
one must exchange, transact with it, as wanting is to worth,
Truth holds strength in one hand and suffering in the other,
He gives quarter and meal to surviving artificers who are organizing
their talents for future enterprise,
to the brigand and beggar He puts on a pewter plate
bland beans representing distance,
disillusionment preceeds the knowledge of utility because
new truth means fallacy is an ancestor,
an anthropologist is truth, observing your traits,
orbiting the ability of your judgement,
some of Truth's revelations are more expensive than others,
sometimes He will take your Past and grin like a haughty antique dealer,
truth will invest in your Future as a gambler revisits old glory
speaking fresh fortunes in cold ears,
He is an opportunist incessantly offering information for spirit,
without the ignorant truth becomes a vagabond in a vineyard of sweet rust,
the secret of truth is that it is ours
if we wish to be honest with ourselves,
truth is the inheritence of the strong who know how to make it,
oppossed to those waiting for it -
J.A.B.
Try opening your ears and shutting your beak
You never listen, incessantly you shriek
So now that my claw has stifled your chatter
I’ll give it to you straight; here’s what’s the matter
The hatchlings have flown, you’ve empty nest syndrome
You’ve even tried squawking at the garden gnome
What you’re experiencing is menopause
Please realize that this is part of nature’s laws
One of our babes invited me to her nest
Where I will be treated as an honored guest
I would suggest you try finding a new spouse
One who doesn’t mind listening to you grouse
If need be, I’ll get a restraining order
I’ll take no more of your panic disorder
If you try stalking me, you’ll get a surprise
Such attempts might lead to your own demise
I am retiring and just want some peace now
The cat’s my friend, so beware of his meow
The cottage reeks with
fluid tides of hope,
incessantly commanding.
My baby’s here.
I’ve still no word
coming down the line from Dover.
Winter’s gone...
Spring rains have come
and with it comes the tears all over.
I weep again, my child it seems,
will never know her father.
Today down by the spring
I prayed the prayer so often said,
sorrow turned desperation.
I found a ring left in the cup, since
yesterday laying there, scribed “M”
upon a jeweled stone.
My heart leaped in
expectation.
I heard his voice inside my head,
where also his face I saw.
I turned and looked...
no one was there...
please God give me
this one discretion.
There must be peace somewhere to find.
I look but must be led
by your grace and mercy.
Again at chores, the babe
asleep, the knock came loudly.
A letter from Michael O’brian maam,
please sign here for delivery.
I hurriedly skimmed,
he was dead,
two days before,
of pneumonia.
Our little Rose, still in my care,
to receive his name
if she so chose
and all else he owned in Dover.
A ring for me
it seems was gone,
a large garnet with the letter M
on the stone, had disappeared
completely.
EPILOGUE:
A seed was planted in winter,
planted in sweetness of youth.
It was a gift from Michael.
He left me alone in the spring---yet,
his flower grew in my garden.
Our error was human.
First feeling trapped, then love,
from this Rose in my life.
Forgiveness is divine.
Love is eternal.
11 Jan 2011 Charles Henderson
Some people take to Facebook
In an effort to create
A safe and pleasant habitat
Unfriending those who wish debate.
But still rile against a college chum
Who's not lost their winter weight.
We drone on about the weather
Far too often before we die.
Talking incessantly about our children
To those unfortunate to catch our eye.
But fail to address substantive issues
And I have to question why?
No religion, politics or talk of sex
To free us from our doubt.
Avoiding issues that may offend
Seems the safer route.
But spotting the neighbor wearing spandex
Deserves a rapid shout.
No fossil fuel or global warming talk
To change us from our course.
And any attempt to grow our minds
Is met with dogged force.
It's far better to speak of gardening tips
Which we heartily endorse.
We close our eyes and dim our ears
To the thornier things in life.
And may indeed find sweet sanctuary
From unwanted social strife.
But rest assured we'll have wasted much
In a desire to escape our neighbor's knife.
We avoid such talk and play it safe...
Our true essence hidden from the fray.
But I have to tell... my greatest fear
That haunts and tasks me to this day.
Is when we stand before the gates of Heaven...
We'll have nothing much to say.
The End
*Check out my cartoon on Webtoons Dave McHattie.
The Smeaton Eddystone's architecture
First lighthouse protecting navigators
Light blinking, pulsating, luminously
Loud foghorn resounding resonantly
Guides shipwrecked mariners vigilantly
Or swarthy seafarers incessantly
On oceans perilous, tempestuous
A sailor’s salvation eternally
09~19~14
Jan Allison
Contest: The Lighthouse
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Form: Rhopalic verse
~awarded 1st place
Dear Heart,
You are the great fulcrum of the human machine
So integral to keep us alive and leave us healthy
I know you work incessantly day and night
Neither taking rest nor seeking respite
By defiance, on any day, if you go on strike
Alas! All our body functions will come to a halt
Though a sinewy piece not bigger than a man’s closed fist
You are the seat of umpteen thoughts and emotions
A wondrous magic casket holding love and hate
A pouch that can contain so much of treasure
A sponge that can absorb any amount of pain
A hidden cave to stash away so many secrets
So deep and vast as a fathomless sea
You are so full of spiraling eddies and currents
Who can fathom your horrendous depths?
Who can explore your hidden recesses and crevices?
At times you stay still like a placid lake
Silent and unperturbed without even a ripple
At times boil and spill with emotions and feelings
Pounding like lashing waves of a stupendous sea
Sometimes like a swift bird in flight
You take off on wings to alarming heights
Or like a gambler’s horse on the race track
You keep galloping in lightning speed
Sometimes you are hard and resistant as a rock
But don’t be insensitive and unfeeling as a clump of wood
That’s my only prayer to you, my bosom friend
Store as much love as you can and lavish it as a millionaire
Do you know how much I love and value you
I feel there is nothing greater vouchsafed to man
Than the gift of an ever loving palpable heart
I relish you and wish to hug and caress you dear!
Much Love,
Jan.30.2023
~ Placed Nineth~
Dear Heart Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mystic Rose Rose
Melting through glass like sand through the sea
Burning like fire through the evergreens
When you touch me
Fingers trembling in the extremity
Sprouting to life, a little blossom on a branch
Falling through rocks like an avalanche
When you hold me
My heart flits and flutters incessantly
Floating along a river with a cool summer breeze
Drifting to the heavens under skies like these
When you love me
The heavens and stars are drowned in ecstasy
On the park bench in the starkness of a city facing darkness,
I was drinking, feeling tipsy, working on some poetry.
Close by me was something lurking; suddenly it started jerking,
and it seemed that it was *twerking!, How could I write poetry?
“Will you stop!” I fairly bellowed, “I am writing poetry!”
But it jerked incessantly.
I was reaching now my limit, but it acted like a dimwit,
covered up by nearby bushes. What it was I had to see!
Though the thing was well in my sight, how I wish I had a flash light,
for it had become a dark night, and this thing was close by me!
Poetry was fleeing from me. This thing was too close by me,
and it twerked incessantly.
I could see the bushes moving. It was like the thing was grooving.
But to what could it be grooving with no beat or melody?
What it heard, I was not hearing; in the shadows I sat peering
wondering if it was leering. How could I write poetry
if that thing was leering at me as I wrote my poetry?
It just jerked incessantly.
Though my heart was filled with such dread, boldly I spoke up and I said,
“You there, like some kind of pervert, just how crazy can you be?
Show yourself. Why are you irking me, like Miley Cyrus twerking
in the bushes where you’re lurking oh so close by me?
But the figure uttered nothing though it was so close by me
twerking on incessantly.
Finally I got much bolder. Getting up, I walked right over
to those bushes where the figure hid. I had to see!
What I saw in New York City in that park was not too pretty!
And for me it was a pity, it destroyed my poetry,
For I’m finding out now when I want to write more poetry
it flows not incessantly.
In my mind it stays forever. Will it ever leave? No, never.
What I saw still haunts me when I try to write my poetry.
I just see that creature lurking in the bushes ever jerking
with its tiny butt a ‘twerking. What an ugly creepy monkey
Why the heck can’t I forget the sight of that dumb monkey
twerking there incessantly?!
*If you don't know what twerking is (one poet didn't) see About this Poem for the link!
(A parody on The Raven, trying to use the same meter and line length of Poe's poem. My apologies if I veered too far off course in how it inspired me!!)
About head high, two bluebirds built a nest
Outside my window, in a young oak tree
They built their house complete with nursery
Last spring she chirped a lover's sweet request
It wasn't long before their home was blessed
Three little ones that chirped incessantly
They raised them to live independently
Last week they left no forwarding address
But I have hope they will return in spring
Rebuild even remodel, either way
Each day they said hello and were so kind
How beautiful it was to hear them sing
Perhaps, next year I'll ask if they can stay
Because good neighbors are so hard to find
November 20 2016
Italian Sonnet
The era of catatonic self-destruction has risen yet again from boulder-blocked caves,
Whose cavernous stalactite incisors drip with the blood of thorny crowns,
Worn in punitive irony for the subversion of fertile inferiority,
Which, like rabbits, duplicates and hops about in trouncing contentment.
Yet despite the grin stretched beneath empty eyes,
Which are eclipsed by dilation of cimmerian shades poured from tipped inkwells,
Darkness ripened by age has inflated its penumbral grasp upon the solar plexus.
Hearts beat now to the false circadian rhythm of telemetry.
Screens fueled by waves polluting the air scramble for attention;
Screaming as if the spotlight has slithered away from their thespian heads.
But even so we watch as if waiting for a nothingness we know.
Petulant performances pretending to perfect the perception of reality persevere,
Despite their lack of empirical validity.
Our bodies and the space around they occupy have become irrelevant.
Experience and physical stimulation have been replaced by mirror neurons,
Firing incessantly at the sight of electromagnetic facsimiles,
Which are vomited in projected disproportion into our unwitting faces,
From nauseating mouths of those whose disease has spread to lower echelons.
And so we sit and stare upon the square on walls and in our hands,
As the prefrontal cortex and its dehydrated lobes succumb to the reptilians.
Another era of lack of mind borne from the fruitlessness of parasitic seeds,
Planted by the pretenders who swim in the wealth of our applause.
Clap away, we will, until we collapse in the arthritic solidification of redundant repetition.
Welcome to the show; a televised apocalypse of thought.
Where worlds were once created in cognition,
They're now created in the lenses of cameras.
When worlds were once refracted light coruscating from the eye,
They're now flickered in slides reflected from the television.