Best Indicates Poems
it's not the same anymore
this is a haunted place
all the living
happy and smiling
writing a pretty line
feeling sublime
but....it's a ghostland to me
drab
drear
desolate
poets I used to know
those on fire
dripping passion
after a fashion
laughter resounding
keys getting a pounding
poetry driven
friendships? A given
throbbing...alive
Now? Memories survive
for slowly they perished
not being cherished
tired and sore
they couldn't take more
and they....walked out the door
dead to this place
they left just a trace
their poetic legacy
forgotten camaraderie
leering at me
word ghosts that haunt
rhyme echoes that taunt
empty places
forgotten faces
I'm one of the walking dead
your words alive in my head
So much left unsaid
The ghostland? It's here
more will leave, I fear
the precious, the dear
but as for me?
I'll remain...complacent and plain
feeling the drain
emotions slain
thoughts on the wane
I remain...I stay
hitting that replay
of your memory
ghosts of what used to be
your words living, breathing
here....
inside of...
me.
Eileen Manassian
*Since this has become POTD and will get exposure, I need to clarify something. This came to me, in part, after reading the news that Jack Ellison is thinking of leaving PS. He's a dear soul. I wrote this because there are several poets whom I miss....poets who are not as active or who have left altogether. This poem is not reflective of PS as I know there are many who are thriving here...AS THE POEM INDICATES. It's just my personal feelings. Thank you for respecting that.
You, my friend,
Are not a king or a prince,
Neither are you a nobleman
Of
A higher or lower rank.
You are just another poor man like me:
A citizen of perpetual want,
Yet
You carry within your heart a kingdom,
A kingdom, you very well could inherit
With God's grace,
If only,
Lord's divine Word, you choose to
Listen to, and follow virtue's path that
He indicates!*
© Demetrios Trifiatis
29 APRIL 2020
* Was honored as POTD.
Thank all my friends for their love and support.
Plus thank the site!
Poetry,they will dissect you
ignoring poet's bleeding heart,
a judgement today for you too,
poetry, they will dissect you!
So many knives to cut you through
a bleeding heart will fall apart.
Poetry they will dissect you
ignoring poet's bleeding heart!
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Contest-TRIOLET
Form-TRIOLET : A French verse form. Its rhyme scheme is ABaAabAB and all lines are in iambic tetrameter; the first, fourth and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines, thereby making the initial and final couplets identical as well. The features of the Triolet are: 8 lines. Two rhymes. 5 of the 8 lines are repeated or refrain lines. First line repeats at the 4th and 7th lines. Second line repeats at the 8th line. Rhyme scheme (where an upper-case letter indicates the appearance of an identical line, while a lower-case letter indicates a rhyme with each line designated by the same lower-case or upper-case letter)
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Having loved ones is an incredibly comforting feeling, but when you enter the vast
landscape of the mind and see only depression and despair, you become aware
that you are alone in your misery. Clinging to the last threads of sanity It feels as if
you are spiraling into a bottomless black abyss.
All sense of responsibility, joy, hope, drive, ambition and any concern for life are
gone like a whisp of smoke. There is no comfort offered when looking deeply into
who you are. Everything that you once held dear seems so pointless in the eternal
perspective of time. There is no escape from the futility of it all. Will I make a
difference or at least be a descent human being. If I do, what difference will it
make. Countless times have I looked into the never ending realm of insanity and
longed to leap into its welcoming arms. I can think of no greater blessing than to
lose one's capacity for self awareness.
Would I fall for all eternity or through the destructive force of madness find
normalcy. It all seems so hopeless. Some say life passes so fast that you should
cherish every moment. But, living out the drudgery of each day seems an eternity to
me. If I focus hard enough my minds eye sees exactly who I am. I have a self
loathing, over burdened, depressingly active, mentally challenged, sarcastic, twisted
thinking process. Process usually indicates order. Not in my case. My mind plumets
into a cold unfeeling wasteland that sends me into fearful fits of confusion where I
am overwhelmed with unrelenting incomparable anger. I ponder an escape , but I
realize I am destined to wallow in the company of despair and futility for all eternity
and deservedly so. Then it finally dawns on me that through my foolish decisions
and self destructive actions I have fulfilled my mission in life to be a stench filled
mass of human waste. I grieve for those who know the loneliness I feel when
journeying into the depths of the seemingly twisted internal machinations of my
mind. It is the only place that in all respects you are truly alone. I no of no other
place where hopelessness reigns as it does in the deep recesses of who I am. It
makes me wonder if I might be God's only mistake.
If you had a choice
Which would you choose
Red or yellow
Or purple or blue
Your choice indicates
Happy or sad
Do you wake up each day
Feeling good or bad
Do as I do
When I first open my eyes
Say to myself
Today is a prize
The smell of the dew
On the new mown grass
The sun shining brightly
The shadows it casts
A wonderful feeling
The fresh morning air
The world's your oyster
A life without care
This is the way
Life's meant to be lived
Forget all your troubles
The headaches they give
You'll find there are days
Much harder than some
Keep your eye on the prize
Till the sadness is done
Tomorrow's are bright
And shiny, full of hope
Laugh at the world
Tell yourself a good joke
It's worked for me
For many long years
It'll work for you
Just shoo way your fears
If you had a choice
Which would you choose
Red or yellow
Or purple or blue
© Jack Ellison 2013
edgy ink*lings
starlight *singers
un-*ring the moon
herald of *dark
disem*bark coal
breed *sparks gem stones...
cover our *wounds
with sleep *sound's tick
mon*soon midnights
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Contest: Than-Bauk a Twilight
*indicates the word or syllable
of the word which rhymes
[4th syll.,3th syll.,2nd syll.]
Creatures Of The Flame
Fierce friend or foe...earth element of fire;
In many ways advanced our humankind.
Relentless when unchecked, a beast so dire,
Engulfs and smothers, leaving ash behind.
Fire shaped the path for humans to progress:
provided them with warmth and light at night;
by chance, found cooking meat gave tenderness,
so eating more increased brain power's might.
The flames of fire kept beasts of prey at bay,
so humans slept in caves instead of trees.
Less vigor used to chew and climb paved way
to think, invent, develop skills with ease.
The gift of fire revamped the human game
when we became earth "creatures of the flame."
Sandra M. Haight
~6th Place~
Contest: Elements Part 4: Fire
Sponsor: Brian Davey
Judged: 05/03/2016
Reference: Discover Magazine: Archaeologists Find Earliest Evidence of Humans Cooking With Fire: "The altered anatomy of H. Erectus, Wrangham wrote, indicates that these beings, like us, were creatures of flame."
YES !
Written in my palms
Within the plasma tempest of my cellular flow
Courses in the pulmonary oxygen
The direction linear fate
Souls writing indicates
Always through pass of time
Reverberates
My breathing in
Links my hands
Physical over mental
Pours consistent
Suffused empire shudders
Tangible still earthquakes
On a single point
Of longing
Yearning
It filters me
Through the hours
Designs my wishes
Sleeping naked
In a diaphragms rising
Lake of want
Each morning in helpless moans
At this state
The continent
The ocean
Of my empty arms
Emptying this need in me
Fills me more
Than any love
I have ever
Known
Re-born
I hanker in swelling desire
Even lust exhales
Its animal fire
And swims in the sails
Expressive
Storm wracked and howling
As I sit motionless
In this envelope
Of aching final
Suspended
In what it means
To be
To me
Completely
Powered by an undeniable
The force surge
Inscribes
Etches
Ensnares
And capitulates
To recognition
Without resistance
Builds a formulation of my destiny
Written in my palms
Within the plasma tempest
Of my cellular flow
The thunderclap
Resounds from above
YES !
I am in love
( And I weep
And I laugh
Each morning in helpless moans
At this state
The continent
The ocean
Of my empty arms )
*holorime/ holorhyme (a French adjective), means "whole rhyme" and indicates
homophonous verses; that is, two lines made up of different words that sound the
same. source: about.com
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*fireflies in lusty glow, darting in neon-colored eyewear
tempting icy nights: oh come for me, your frilled garments i’ll wear!*
all rights reserved
©
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*Brian Strand’s “ What You Will” Contest
Jesus did teach us to turn the other cheek,
But never suggested we ought to be weak
In those instances of obvious wrongdoing
He sent the moneychangers gelt strewing,
And he called out the miserable hypocrite
In the strongest of language, as he saw fit.
Keeping the peace is good, I certainly agree,
But not at the expense of a bully’s spree,
Who goes about inflicting pain unchecked,
Comes the time when they must be decked.
For bullying indicates feelings of superiority
While it actually cloaks an inner inferiority.
We need to show bullies they’re not “all that,”
Sometimes it calls for knocking off their hat.
Letting them know we will be calling their bluff
When we are fed up with their hateful stuff,
Not allowing them to feign self-righteousness
As they hurtfully nose into another’s business.
It is always preferable to be meek and mild
But not when an adult acts like a spoiled child
Taking pleasure in causing others’ distresses
Probably struggling with their own sad messes
And acting like their way is the only way
While refusing to allow their victims a say!
Written December 8, 2022
A spent sun, sullied and bleeding,
starts to sink, defeated by Night.
And chameleon clouds blush pink,
absorbing drops of crimson light.
Vermillion inks the horizon,
like luminous carnival glass.
And a pitted, golden moon shines
like a sphere of unpolished brass.
The sky is cloaked in black velvet;
an ebony softness that flows.
And sleep's allowed to wander free;
to tend to fantasies and woes.
The sun rises like a phoenix
from the charcoal ashes of Night.
And sets the eastern skies afire;
ignited by Dawn's breaking light.
Peach, strawberry, and cinnamon;
tint, scattered clouds of misty grey.
And this mix of pastel colors
indicates that Sol's on His way.
Shifting shadows detach from black
when the sun chases Night away.
And twinkling stars swiftly vanish,
washed away by the light of day.
"If having a sense of humor is considered crazy,
tell me I'm zany before you walk out my door."
~ by poet
My poetic friends are very zany
Their humor indicates they are brainy
Limericks they oft' write
Bring laughter to the site
They are rays of sunshine when it's rainy
Zaniness is an art that gives pleasure
Such quirky talent goes beyond measure
Their farcical style
Makes many of us smile
Witty minds are valued as a treasure
Labeled bizarre, whimsical, or sappy
Zany cockamamy makes us happy
They take away a frown
When we are feeling down
Even if their limericks are crappy
Distill emotion
to one cliché “I love you”
call it poetry
Wrap all your feelings
in colorful box, ribbons,
call it greatest gift
Inflated ego
sworn superiority
call it all I need
I hear no trace of
regret in the voice speaking
of indiscretions
I see no sign of
truth in the dark eyes that claim
to love me only
I feel not the touch
of kindness from hands that give
only when they need
Hit-and-run kisses
when all I need is for you
to linger a while
Beware the high ground
only time until the fall
inevitable
Singular captures
only the essence of one
and that one is you
I lost myself there
sometimes I think you love me
for bending to you
So say it’s untrue
though every verb indicates
quite the contrary
I can not believe
manipulated words when
you’re hiding your eyes
Redeem, for this heart
that fell blissful into you
is reaching out still
I am an ephemeral purple flower, a rare variety,
named as most beautiful!
Did that arouse adoration to a mother’s heart?
She chose the name for her baby in the womb,
She thought, my name suits best for her girl
Who was going to arrive soon!
My name kindled her imagination…and she
remembered the Princess of Malawa in disguise,
the enchanting dancer and heroine of Sanskrit classic...
Prince Agnimitra enamoured by her
beauty, grace and talents - happy ending to the historical
Romance, although after gripping intrigue!
Part of my name indicates a garland, usually
used for worship ….to the mother I symbolized
all the traits - kindness, strength, wisdom, and grace...
she wished her daughter to possess!
Cut your bleeding heart out,
And place it on the ground,
For all those to look,
Deceiving those around,
Lock your bleeding heart in a box,
And give it to those in need,
Hold back all of the tears,
Block out all of the debree,
But does your bleeding heart deserve to be protected?
Given and taken from the wrong,
The wrong notes and words,
That now make up your love song,
Shatter your dreams with your bleeding heart,
Prove the innocent of their hate,
Fall to your knees and expire,
As hopelessness always indicates,
Stay up late with your bleeding heart,
And discover the truths of your veins,
The blood is soon to run dry,
Bringing back all of your pains,
Your bleeding heart cries for my blood,
But you’ve already given it all away,
Wasted it all of the wrong,
Causing panic and then decay,
You begin to hate your bleeding heart,
The innocent can’t renew your soil,
It’s Your veins, Your soul,
That are running out of oil,
Cut your bleeding heart out,
And lock it in a box,
Listen to every single beat,
With it, you’ll never be lost