Best Intact Poems
care for your body--
it is God-given; keep it
intact and holy
.Give me extra strength, to the love in my heart
to deal with absence,when we are apart
the distance be close,but feelings so strong
i don`t care who says what`s right and what`s wrong.
For i am intact with emotional ties
the little things in life,do make me cry
aswell as the tragedys,throughout our land
to beggars,homeless holding out a hand.
Paul Beadnall;
Sponsor Brian Strand
Contest Name TWO TO FOURTEEN any theme/form MAX 14 lines
Pride comes before the fall
under a tender gaze of midday's sun
Our Sunday cross
is being turned upside down
incorrectly sponsored by none other than the arts council
as it carries their logo seal of approval stamped all over it
With groups promoting sin unholy acts attack
Abortion takes the centre staged arena
dark nights follow anyone supporting
such an ugly vile deed unchristian barbarism
tearing a child from the tree of life
Blind beggars God is not with them anymore
innocence is now plucked from the vine of the living
condemned to death
Also un-natural against the good living is speaking out of turn
trying to twist their sins as if born to do so deeply disturbed
family values is the most productive role in society today
to overshadow it against creations seed sewn treasures
The true values we hold are held
truth inside our mortal souls frame of mind
Born from the spirit of injustices a fire burns
crying to the Heaven's in dread filled shame for mercies sake
unhappy victims they become whom
are chained by incorrect choice
dressed down silenced good
yet remains to speak firmly on ignorance
in an open verdict time
will catch up
when the judgement bell tolls
Numbers each and every single beast
corrupt to the marrow
I for one condemn this false face called liberal
arrogant tunnel visioned traitors
Removing our Divine King as Lord
in our most Sacred Heart blessed
we are protected under his Holy mantel
INNOCENCE IS STILL INTACT
Innocence is still intact,-
no matter how bad this life attack me,
at night in my cold darken room
where it is I cry,
I would wrap my self in blankets
where I felt safe,-
where I kept my faith
and I would pray….for this nightmare to go away.
I know I am strong enough
to fight this agony,-
Oh, how the rush of a cold crying wind
would soak me down in tears,-
that brought on the fears,
that lasted for years,
Where all my strength begins to fail me.
When I saw those hollow eyes staring back at me
where shallow lies,-
in those painful times,
as this darkness breed on the mind,
where all I hear all those cries.
Oh, my dear God what is happening to me
Why, do I keep having these bad nightmares?
But when I awake, I found myself in lack of faith
because Dark Angel was standing before me.
Poetic Judy Emery © 1982
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
In honor of mothers who keep their sons pure,
And of uncut men, I thee reassure
You are perfect and wholesome just as you are.
Born in God’s image, you’re already a star.
Your foreskin’s a blessing, so think and be wise,
And give thanks to all parents who don’t circumcise.
God made you complete in the womb, yes God did.
God loves you like that and therefore doth bid
That you stay as you are, in your natural state,
So that when, at last, you meet your soul mate,
You’ll unite, both of you, a half and a half,
To make passionate love, a love that will last,
Without a thing lacking, you will be truly whole,
With eternal fulfillment in your heart and soul.
Your God-given potential for heavenly pleasure
To share with your true love is something to treasure.
So take not for granted that flap of loose skin,
So seemingly useless, toilsome, and thin,
Your manhood deserves the wrapping its in,
For to butcher a creation of God is a sin,
And a gift to all humans who preside on this earth,
It is time now to cherish what you’ve had since your birth.
Sanguine fluid hemorrhaging from a contrary source
My credence wavers at your broken promises
I once abjured all of your fatuous wars
Until I too was branded on your canvas’
Some tawdry amusement you secrete
Only to emerge in your tenebrous off time
A murmured melodious beat
To make a pedestrian appear sublime
I feel your jurisdiction, forced upon me
Subservience is yours only till my hands are more
Pride in your villenage, underlying acrimony
For the malevolence in my eyes, an unbroken core
Infuriating your might, nothing can defeat you
Animosity ablaze, cauterizing me, so cold.
Behind the pain you inflict, you find impenetrable fortitude
Your brawn may vanquish my body, never my soul.
I’ll walk away with heart intact
No need with blood to sign this pact
When pain abounds, I need to act
I will survive, now that’s a fact!
No use for love, oh, can’t you see?
Much happier, I'm sure to be
Heart strings I've snipped, now I am free
To touch the dreams that live in me
I will not be a love sick fool
To be abused and treated cruel
When deep inside, there shines a jewel
I’ll bring my heart back under rule
Love shifts so much like desert sand
Can’t be confined in heart or hand
I need a rock on which to stand
So from my heart, this love is banned
YES! From my heart your love is BANNED!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I had overeaten.
So I reached inside myself
And pulled up whatever could be pulled up
From strength that I could muster up
I labored long and hard
And eventually brought forth
Snow capped mountains
And sky scrapers dignified by the rays of the sun
And the tallest pines with cones intact
And stars draped with clouds, silver lined
And song birds with half-sung melodies resting on their beaks
And butterflies with awe-inspiring wings, extended and poised for flight
And rainbows that captured the very essence of past promises.
Exhilarated and exhausted, I wept
Not due to any emptiness or lack
But due to the incredible, unspeakable beauty of the lone rose
That remained anchored to my innermost parts.
I was spent but at peace
" Can you feel the soul of an abandoned house;
can you hear the whispering?"
quote...by Constance La France
As I approach the abandoned house of my youth
rain is falling
I came to remember its sights and sounds
without the illusion of youth
before it disappears in the void of years
only the footstones seem intact
leading to the crumbling porch of decaying wooden planks
where my grandmother would sit in her rocking chair
as I played on the steps of Pinewood
the oak tree I climbed is covered in Spanish moss
its limbs dying
the swing set I used is laying in grasses of brambles and weeds
having rusted away
the front door languishes on a single hinge
cocked to the side
allowing dust and dirt to be blown inside
I slowly step inside, my eyes scanning the shadowed light
feces of critters lay scattered on the floor
my mother would constantly sweep clean
the scent of rotten wood and mold
have replaced the smell of my dad's pipe
my hands touch the walls
as I walk from room to room
each one filled with voices and memories
rain is pouring through the roof
onto the floor of my yesterdays without mercy
there is nothing here in this empty barren space
hollowed out from time
leaving the ghosts of yesterday
hidden in the dim-lit shadows of decay
their remembered whispers follow me
as I leave, I look back
with a sadness that will linger in my mind
5/26/23
contest Writing Challenge "C" quotes
sponsor Constance La France
We tend to cringe with a thought of a media bliss/
Yet some may insist it's their entitlement ?
Exposed from what is real truth/
Surreal from the actual norm !
Yet what hurt's you the most ?
Hence, to expose the big lie !
Settling for a fish with a side of fries,
Tormented to change,
A given chance at which to rearrange/
The old man is destroying you !
Still we smile to call it a good day/
Inside the pain seems so intense/
Building up amidst the given pressure,
We fall prey to the compromise,
They are the control freakss'
That so often promise nothing in return !
Falling so often head long to a terrible selfishness intact !
Still many there be that pay little to no homage,
Thay hide in tiny holes,
Behind the hidden garb of tender compromise/
Yet can't they see through all those sullen faces ?
Traces with fallen fields of lies;
Having fangs for teeth,
They run away and hide,
Afraid to take off their mask/
Too afraid to expose their true inner self,
So they pretend to smile/
To call it a happy good day,
It's not the real thing,
It's all a fantasy,
For some they oft settle for compromise before going ahead to win the bigger prize !
Even in old age I still find,
I have more questions than answers.
Like when I would not even be considered for Father of the year,
How have our three children flourished,
And been witnessed to be happy on occasions?
Could it be that Base Camp has kept it's original address,
And the welcome mat can be seen from space.
A place where Dinosaurs still roam.
The structure may creek and groan,
Under the weight of all the years,
But the integrity of the main beams is still solid,
And there are still embers in the home fire.
The original custodians are still in residence,
And in no hurry to move on,
The grounds may be a bit unruly,
But there is a bigger supply of fruit than before,
And sitting outside no longer necessitates putting up sunshades,
Wood for the fire is supplied on site.
New varieties of Birds can be seen and heard chirping,
There is no shortage of worms to help turn the soil,
Flowers and butterflies flourish among the weeds,
And buzzing of the bees drowns out the noise of the flies.
The garage may be a mess,
But there are tools enough for the job,
And some spares in case the children, or friends forget to bring back,
What they borrowed.
This home base may not feature in Home and Garden magazines,
But it has stood the test of time,
Is still the starting point for many an adventure.
With new offspring in the family,
And new offshoots in the garden,
I may have one less Question,
Requiring an answer.
Discovered Seashells
(More or Less Intact)
More like seashells on beaches, encounters with love
may enchant, disappoint us, but offer assurance.
Love blossoms through chemistry though the first art
(not the artist) is sand now and work of new life forms
make sandbanks a tapestry, literal canvas,
a wall to delight both the staid and the wild.
May each husk (I let go of) bring joy to some witness,
for all love has meaning beyond understanding,
and colors though minted by mollusks are proof
of connections we share with the future, the past,
of more Natural Laws which suggest that Creation
has boundaries also, that God, too, is bound.
Aren’t all poems creations? Is poetry found
like a shell on life’s shore or in mind’s evolution?
May God rue the day I pray muse wills a fast,
that I disown past musings my present finds turnoff,
or lean more toward rhetoric linked to grandstanding.
Let poetry serve more what Soul should confess.
Show Your Grace to what’s gifted. Let gifts each prove love child
that honors its parent, both yin and yang novice
of catholic rhyming, reject what conforms
to idolatrous prattle. Does Mozart break Glass?
It’s the poem asp profits when pride proves more pretense!
Though poets lack wings, rhymed verse soars like a dove!
Brian Johnston
17th of May in 2020
Things having no limit is seen intact, say sky but things which have size is seen big or small
Solemn day, as solemn as any day can be
but yet how can I portray it to be
The harmonic duet of the bird and blooming wild flowers
prove me wrong
Love, a distant theory is also a quilt of comfort like
Shakespearean prose
the heat, the warmth on a cold winter's day
Love, a springing halt to collateral damage
the only measurement withstanding the ferocity arises
as does a question
How can one live to love if to live and love is evil
spell them backwards, the theory becomes a tested hypothesis
Maybe the conclusion arrive in the form of another riddle
or maybe the man in the moon will descend and live happier
Every time I gaze at him, he wears an expression of agony
in the loneliest morning and darkest night
like his wife has died
Fright, what is it; it's a method, a state of being
an epidemic, a disaster
Could it be a symptom of lust
not knowing what's to come bolting through a closing door
or an attempt to keep a presence intact and forever perhaps
One can never know unless one already knows
omniscient, omnipotent
but then again, it's similar to asking for aid, paid in full
for an unknown someone to help pull the trigger
right between the eyes
Every day I wake up with my inner core still intact,
And that is an established fact,
So, I seldom worry about that,
Even when I take off my hat,
Or decide to pick up a bat.
I don't know what makes it so,
I only know it can take quite a blow,
Though the outer core may start to glow,
And burn marks start to show
My inner core is still good to go.
It is still a mystery to me,
Why others cannot say the same,
And find it hard to stay in the game,
Which is I think is quite a shame.
Contact with friends helps strengthen my inner core
Of this I am sure,
A joke or two seems to please it some more,
The right food to the fore,
Helps the core,
To do more,
A good night's sleep reduces the chances of stress on the core,
And although children are quite a chore,
They tell us when we are in danger of becoming a bore,
And we need to go out the door,
To learn once more to explore,
To Lower the temperature in the inner core.
Every day I awake with my inner core still intact,
I know I must have shown some tact,
Failed to overreact,
And others did not decide how I should act.
Though every day I give thanks that my inner core is intact,
And I am glad to do that,
There is one thing I don't know for a fact,
Does it live under my hat?
Or if I take off my shirt,
Will I find it resides inside my heart?