Best Incidentals Poems
He kept a small room
he wasn’t in it very often
but it was there and he knew it
it was safe
for though life had opened roads
that needed to be trodden
and he was often far away
his room was
waiting for him
in it was his bookcase
teal blue stained wood
shelves of a life explored
childhood memories
books about dinosaurs and the moon
pictures and piggy banks
old record albums and
his Titanic collection
there were two hickory chairs
old world charm in light pink brocade
a gift of decades past
and his library desk, a rare find
and one to keep for its
mahogany leather embossed top
its drawers crammed with 50 years of
incidentals, papers and letters
and brochures
on its walls, his oils and watercolors
kept guard
his paintings from a long ceased dalliance
in art
he kept a small room
to visit
for though he believed that home
is where love is and can be anywhere
he also knew that a seed planted
can grow and grow
but its roots must survive
Categories:
incidentals, growth, home, life, meaningful,
Form:
Free verse
Your name is a prerequisite
for every final and finale.
An exclamation
after encores.
The truest definition of more.
The atom before cataclysmic spasm
and all creation that evolved
after energies first meeting.
Your name is completely competing
my demise as well as my surprise.
I'll pronounce every syllable
as ride this unbelievable high
Your name produces
beautiful altercations
And the seeds that flow
are no accidental
incidentals.
It's like a one word prayer
that combines
hallelujah and amen
Said softly but it
echoes so loudly
Categories:
incidentals, birth, romance,
Form:
Free verse
"The forest is a sanctuary where you can grow to be you," ... by the Poet.
The passing of a torch, when Spring was announced,
was noted in the melting quarter of winter memories, as a sun climbs in
its forgiving rays; hoping its extent will favor the many listless foliage
that shy away the hours and that will soon purify vividly.
A forest is a sanctuary of admirable heights,
indelible spreads in the reach of golden beams.
The nurturing glow is a blessed welcoming, as glimmerings of first light,
and in its duration;
at the lower regions,
are duly usual reliance on root's deep hold of the earth
will stabilize their stature.
The lesser herbage of lowly pinnacles beneath shades of tree boughs
whereby the sun's light skips and winks a trace of them, is nevertheless
enriched with nutrients that will foster its growth.
These passionate plantings in harsh spotty sites amid forested trees are all
functions of the grand scheme of nature at its finest. Two, of the three
sanctuaries, the Flora, is known as the greater of the living greeneries.
The Funga is the lesser of the verdancy of the woods' life.
Then there are the incidentals of nature, and their animated interactions known as the third sanctuary; the Fauna. They soar, stride, slide, and swim.
Most move free of incidents, and others, not quite so. It's the
beast of the jungle that rules. They set them, and when broken,
there will be consequences. It is the pattern set by nature for the cycle of life.
One life dies as a gift for another to live. These are the rigid realities of the
woodlands, though not limited here,
but relevant beyond this sanctuary's realm.
The entrance of Spring seasons well the vibrancy of greens evolving greener.
Anticipative varieties of colorful flowers can survive the thick overhangs
of a forest.
Fauna, or animal life forms, infest these regions generously.
Spring here in the forested jungles is no different from the expressed lands
beyond its perimeters.
The Wicket of Spring has opened its forest sanctuary.
Categories:
incidentals, animal, bird, creation, fish,
Form:
Free verse
The basilisk is looking my way
Time fragmented into memorial shards
Explosive regeneration hides pain
These flames won't cleanse my wounds
Dark strands of your hair cover me like a cat of nine tails
Each strike harder than the last but I can't look away
This wormhole gateway into your soul fails
But I cannot feel you any other way
Ubiquity of your eyes creates a prison of denial
The pretenders would believe this can be beaten
Hangman is cut loose by a cellar door
Every day I want you more and more
Spare the incidentals and grant me once more
How do I get back there?
How do I get back to that place where I held you?
How do I get back into your beautiful heart?
This wormhole gateway into your soul fails
But I feel you. Every day.
J.Hart 01/30/10
Categories:
incidentals, lost loveme, , memorial,
Form:
That ole' rag mop, the handle's fine,
this is the second, my gold mine,
floors should be vinyl, camper tight
with incidentals, grab & sight!
A new Lab puppy, doorstep night,
left nine (9) a squawking, late, not right ~
cop picked up gently, took inside
first time a tear came, lost my fright!
Now six+ months, growing, I kept one,
a shelter drove here, Texas lass
so grateful, I thought that's real class,
took eight (8) away, all crying, fast!
Not looking back, the "one" is work
she'd chew the lightning from a storm
don't matter what it is, she's prone
to tear it up, still's not fake bone!
I call her, Koda, meaning friend
she always licks your face, say when,
a River campground, easy spend
some playground ethics, still open!
Full grown in six months, but can
I keep the picture, not offend,
called the relation, they say "when"
a full blown "yes" would help this trend!
Are puppys God sends, teach us lots
to watch this energy, we've got
to put them first, the eating list
and not rehearse this "same old grit!"
The trek inside, but yards, "yo ho"
there's more to out there, then just mow
a chewing space, in one big store
the tie ups help, but Lord, Oh Lo!
The jumping, nipping come often
especially when a friend comes by
Could use a "trainer" Sit and Down,
or even learned advice compound!
Retriever Lab, her namesake's breed
can find the "fowl" in River's lead
but growing Season, time's the Creed
learning obedience, not recede!
So help me Poets, where's your stake
at finding lost creation's sake,
advice so welcome, need a break
at hunting dog's conditioned sake!
Abandonment ~ Nine (9) three week old puppies,
left on front porch in freezing weather! It's scary,
they cry like any baby might!
Making friends this way is so heart wrenching!
Neighbors, so helpful. One couple really donated
so much of their energy, bringing extra home made food!
Now, I know, after six+ months, how this tiny pink
and white Labrador pup opened so many doors to kindness,
I never ever expected, last January!
Categories:
incidentals, animal, best friend, pets,
Form:
Monorhyme
Scar-like Healings
by Odin Roark
Scar laden perfections
Where life's training wheels balance
One's child-like trust
Adolescent-like daring
Adult-like intemperance
Scratches
Bruises
Broken bones
History's incidentals heal easily
While
Challenges of the heart
Stalemates of the mind
Failure of one's dreams
Make endurance the battle cry
Invisible damages the struggle
Protection of identity
One's survival instinct
The personified continuance
At all costs
How weary our consciousness becomes
For
Around the corner
Lurks the underworld of lesions
Trusting not the scars
For finite as healing might seem
There remains the lesson to be learned
Time-released torment to be resolved
One's fatal wounds burrow deep
Ignoring the façade of mending
Knowing all too well
What remains buried
Are teachings
Damage never dies
Anguish never vanishes
The chameleon of pain
Nullifies one's senses temporarily
Rendering transient peace
While fate prepares
Tomorrow's pin prick
Wishing one to live
Not languish believing
Scar-like healings
Are real
Categories:
incidentals, pain, endurance,
Form:
Free verse
DISCONNECTIONS
harmony order
reason &
beauty
&
incidentals
severed
by
upheavals
cerebral &
austere
a purveyor of
dimensions
to catalogue
&measure reveals
the obsessive
elaborate
laboriously
constructed
tableaux
of
destruction
so instantly
recognisable in
impressive &
immaculate
artefacts
to
specifically
fire the imagination
&
concentrate
the interplay
of
reason in
perpetual motion
in grappling
&
conveying
the painstakingly
drumbeat
of
sensation
amid the melee
of the
orchestrated
ensembles
at a distance
the measured
mood
detached
artificial
yet in
symmetry
knitting
everything together
in
cool respect
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Categories:
incidentals, poetry,
Form:
Other
No! not about pits
they’re removed
the fruit sliced.
ugly in effigy —
the air turns
their innards
burnt orange.
their rainier skin
scarred and pale —
tasty or not.
i’d rather them red
and plump, but
skinny enough
to fit into
the pitter
and for the pits
to shoot straight
out
not get stuck
like Winnie the Pooh
half in and out —
a honey of an incident,
embarrassing.
i gobble up
nature’s morsels
good for sleep
metabolism and
movements
which i
have a right
to let go.
Let’s not forget
the plastic covering
these incidentals
arrived in
and were shaken loose
from
into a collapsible colander
and given a sprinkling
shower; they shine
their famous; their mine
7/11/2020
Categories:
incidentals, fruit, humorous,
Form:
Light Verse
He'd glimpse her, the peripheral life of her;
she lived in the corner of his eye.
She passed-by, her face and form - tidal,
a tug on his shore.
Perhaps she was salt for his blood, spice
for nomadic mitochondria
that carried her silks and perfumes,
salts to his earth
when flesh grew dry and dark?
He took a mind journey
within the coiling tendrils
of his pith and fiber.
Capillaries traced her imprints,
neuronal fingers tried to define her.
He'd gladly walk into her marrow,
metabolites clinging to her shifting shapes.
A camel-train of visions travels
his corded spine
bearing incidentals, trappings.
He plants glances among ganglia,
feeds on a returning musk,
until she walks among his thoughts.
She is no longer a fantasy, no longer
a salt lick of moth-threads and rain,
but what she is - he could not say.
Categories:
incidentals, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
It's Thanksgiving and the time again
To stop and note each blessing.
Among them we must count of course
The turkey and the dressing.
We're thankful for the pumpkin pie
Cranberries and candied yams.
And if we can find space for more
Some good rolls spread with jam.
We've watched the Macy's grand parade,
And await a football game.
To miss a single one of these
Would surely be a shame.
But these are incidentals,
What I am truly thankful for
Is every one of those who've come
Through our Thanksgiving door.
Thank you God for all these dear ones
Who are today surrounding me
And another happy Thanksgiving
To store in my memory.
Categories:
incidentals, familythanksgiving, thanksgiving,
Form:
Rhyme
PAST
Truly the present and the future
Cannot come and become
Without the past
Without the passing of another day
Today and tomorrow
Would not be here
Rather it would be there.
What a wonderful happening
These events of the day
The sequences and consequences
Is God’s invention of the best
The future and the present
Precedes the past, not invertly and conversely!
People are either or neither
Are major players
But it could be
Antecedents or of the precedents
Sometimes
We cannot accept the past
As incidentals of the present
The future are accustomated by the past…
If you are the past
And never can be
The present and the future
To dare this and that
Would be an absurdity
Lest the experiences and challenges appurtenant thereto
Stick in the present, think of the future and bury the Past!!
Categories:
incidentals, lifefuture,
Form:
Free verse
Where do you work, what is your career?
Well, I'm glad you asked, I have many titles it would appear.
I'm proud of these titles, non of which require a degree.
One of my favorite titles is mom of three.
I'm a homemaker, a cleaning lady, a chef, and a maid;
a run the monsters away when they are afraid.
I'm a librarian and teacher of every subject;
a cheer leader and manager of every school project.
A counselor, a therapist, both physical and mental;
a manager of any and all incidentals.
One may also call me a chauffeur.
Some days all this driving seems much like a blur.
I'm an event planner and activities director,
and I'm putting my years in for debt collector.
A private investigator, a hostage negotiator,
a disciplinary, and a mediator.
A soul protector, security, a body guard;
and a safe place to go when life gets too hard.
I'm a personal shopper, a stylist and a hairdresser;
a go-to for advice when they want to impress her.
I'm a wife to the most wonderful husband and father;
and a listening ear when something's a bother.
Last but not least, I am a spiritual guidance;
a child of God who will always follow in His abidance.
Categories:
incidentals, boy, mom,
Form:
Rhyme
Inside an old library of things uncountable
clippings, extracts, jottings, and snippets.
‘things’
nothing can be
excluded
yes the air is musty, thickly clothed,
muffled and club fingered,
incidentals are listed
on the cuff of the half-remembered.
Mind dust wafts from one place to another.
Orts of loss, tittle, and trifles. A library
in pieces.
A fine looking woman approaches
she has an armful of books.
Maybe she works here
or maybe she works only
in this moment.
Behind her
things begin to fall off shelves.
“Don’t worry.”
She is Scottish and actually says
“dinna fash yersel.”
An old Celtic grandma peeps out of her eyes.
The enormity of every-thing
pecks and probes.
She places more books
on the reading table.
The thought of a ‘reading table’
amuses.
Outside the library the world is simplifying.
A fresh sky begins to write
in a language only spoken of
in empty rooms.
It’s a braw uncluttered daylight
that greets awakening eyes.
Categories:
incidentals, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
FAKING ADVANTAGE
He led her to it
he let her do it
he stood silently by
unsympathetic to the fact that she could die
he watched as the weapon was loaded
with all the incidentals duly noted
there wasn't a lot she'd need
just a few items for this dastardly deed
she was sixteen and he knew better
he knew about the possible outcome letter by letter
yet he let her go ahead with her pitiful plan
for he was one heartless and gutless man
he counted on what he knew might occur
and he didn't really give a f*ck about her
sixteen, naive and vulnerable as well
and men who breed junkies like her should rot in hell
© 2012.....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Categories:
incidentals, angst,
Form:
Quatrain
FAKING ADVANTAGE
He led her to it
he let her do it
he stood silently by
unsympathetic to the fact that she could die
he watched as the weapon was loaded
with all the incidentals duly noted
there wasn't a lot she'd need
just a few items for this dastardly deed
she was sixteen and he knew better
he knew about the possible outcome letter by letter
yet he let her go ahead with her pitiful plan
for he was one heartless and gutless man
he counted on what he knew might occur
and he didn't really give a f*ck about her
sixteen, naive and vulnerable as well
and men who breed junkies like her should rot in hell
© 2012.....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Categories:
incidentals, angst,
Form:
Quatrain