Best Integrity Poems
A poet enters a private sanctuary,
A sacred place where the imagination
Dwells with a mélange of emotions
Conceived by aesthetic beauty,
Often divine and esoteric in nature;
That comprehensive longing to
Express through common language
That which is so vitally uncommon.
Words that seek to form a bridge
Between intellectual abstract thought
And the world of the inarticulate.
A way to express the depth of sorrow
While having it become a cathartic
Release, thereby relating to others
In commiseration and heartfelt empathy.
Poetry has the ability to help, to heal.
To reach souls enduring that same pain
May be a blessed gift poetry genuinely
Offers in a nonintrusive manner, helping
Lonely souls know they are not alone.
No-one escapes the loving light poetry sheds.
It dwells inside each of us, realized or not.
It teaches with simplicity, expands the mind,
Ingratiates itself without any effort when
Expressed with forethought and integrity.
It may stir emotions from the most stoic.
Speech itself, lives and breathes, and is poetic.
Acquiesce to that silent voice inside which
prevails upon the heart to be released in verse.
Poetry may elevate our spirit with such intensity
To generate a feeling akin to euphoric bliss.
Poets, honored in past glory with the status of Kings,
Now dwell in a world often misunderstood by the
Masses too busy to take the time to regard its worth.
How fortunate for the insightful who appreciate and
Embrace the ageless, immortal soul poetry provides.
They are blessed and will give birth to future poets.
© Connie Marcum Wong
I remember
when I was a poor boy
and nobody loved me
mamma's tears felt like acid
burning holes in my heart -
I became breathless
triggers came without a guarantee
violence swept like an adversary
in silence i found my sanctuary
my bubble an escape from reality
grenades of my ancestors
detonated along my destiny
I burned in a bonfire of misery
papa's demons were too loud
so I hid my heart behind a shroud
as fatal tumors cursed my tongue
my sighs turned into a melancholic song
triggers came without a guarantee
violence swept like an adversary
in silence i found my sanctuary
my bubble an escape from reality
as the novelty of poison wore out
through the Devil's death i began to shout
his assassination set my soul free
childhood pain became my poetry
once I was a poor boy with silent ink,
but in adolescence I've learned to think
i used to wish I had never been born
but it's pointless living with bitter scorn
As withheld words escaped through winds of change
regretful tears from fears were blown out of range
Having lived on earth for some time now
Impatiently he dwells, harboring self doubt.
In face of impediments he loses his mind
Acquiring dispositions like hate and lies,
Hosting showmanship to look good and wise.
Never does he claim his world to be saintly
Letting dreams reign and thoughts go wild
Acknowledging failings incapable of verity.
Risking happy tears, triumphs he celebrates
Saving saddened ones to mourn disasters,
Banking on the strength of worn-out hands
As unforgiving minutes tick-tock forever.
When he gets a turn at the wheel of fortune
Losses seem to mount at every pitch-and-toss,
Regretting moments when he says:"hold on"
For he loses the ground on which he stands.
Yet he carries on, in treacherous currents
Swimming boldly in shark-infested waters
Accepting the reality of fish-eat-fish world.
Unsatiated reveries bestow vacant dreams
Never ever venturing to walk with the Kings,
Commoner he is, like his friends in drudgery.
Pride and joy of his family, a Man he's already!
Truth he owns, is the truth he delineates,
Being a flawed man, for forgiveness he prays.
October 21, 2018
Poem of the day on October 23, 2018
Placed first in..In response to Rudyard Kipling's poem IF
Contest by Silent One
Placed 3rd: Strand select 12 by Brian Strand
I think I know the Name of Purity,
It is Your Name -- it holds clear water well!
A Chalice carved almost to shattering,
A white rose, that alone, grows in the dell
With drops of ice adorning its still face
The warmth of heart that comes with falling snow
The few flakes that adorn your lashes, by grace
Delightful cold that creeps up from below
Loquacity that speaks only the Truth,
Amazed by every small, delightful thing
Ubiquitous praise and unbroken Youth
Right Trust, that gave your finger to the Ring
Inevitable Joy, and whispered Love
E'er faithful, that this all is from Above.
2/11/2019
Submitted for: Standard Poetry Contest 175
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Silence Felled
Lurking in dark corners
The swamp stirs in the night
As the deceiver rises
Begging to share his illusions might
Only behind the veil
Does he let his murky words sail
Deceiving the lady of the house
While he runs like a little mouse
He drinks a mans ale
Then double crosses once stale
Armies can’t fight the silent one
He hides in the corners of your mind
Draw blood with your pen
Let him flow towards the hither end
The skeleton can’t do much with his quill
Stabbed of his devious will
Will You See Truth Beyond That Dark Stone Fence
Can you feel true heart in early dawn's light
soft grace and gentle winds in Spring's new flight.
Can soul feel Nature's benevolent course
from open mind, mankind's weakness divorce?
Hear morning doves as they sing out soft calls
let kindness escape from imprisoned walls.
Gather knowledge, true strength from mother Earth
seek truth in doing right with all your worth.
See brilliance in every golden sunset
cease striving for all earth's wealth you can get.
See Nature, its great eye-opening gifts
let grace come as your spirit it uplifts.
Will you see truth beyond that dark stone fence
find calm over world's chaotic suspense?
R.J. Lindley,
April 14th, 1982
Sir Poet, Hold True To Thy Gifts Long Given
Sir poet, why hast thy broken thy true pen?
Are not thy words intended to help and heal?
Pray thee, returneth to world of gentle men,
Let both thy mind and fevered blood softly spill!
Sir poet, why hast thy burned thy greatest writes?
Are not thy word-gifts bearing much needed fruits?
Pray thee, this sad, dark world sees thy ink-bright lights,
Begs thy kind soul return to poetic roots!
Sir poet, write deep to heal thy wounded heart
Embrace yet again, thy soul's truest call to arms
Find thy calling, begin an earnest restart,
Seek thee to help not this rash act that so harms.
Sir poet, hold true to thy gifts long given
Join again, poet's rewards in true liven'.
R.J. Lindley
Sonnet (11)
Jan. 20th 1990
Syllables Per Line: 11 11 11 11 0 11 11 11 11 0 11 11 11 11 0 11 11
Total # Syllables: 154
Total # Words: 122
Take AI’s verses
and make them yours,
fake wisdom through
generated synonyms,
stolen from
the thesaurus of thieves.
Maybe there are no pages for
inkless minds
that lack creativity,
or maybe pigments
in their ink have no stability.
Originality comes
from an authentic realm,
so why become a poetic predator,
stealing this pain,
and claiming it
as your own
testimony of healing.
Think twice when
you confuse
my silence as blindness.
I can see through
those soulless words,
that hold no
meaning nor insight.
You influence me to
question if your
quill actually
comprehends the
depths of the
metaphors I’ve woven.
Poetry is not always
defined by iambic pentameters,
nor by syllables
and insincere irony
articulated as
illusive imagery
in your fabricated foolery,
as every stanza is
how a poet perceives the world,
weaving words
into artistic confessions.
A poet’s heart is
graphically
bleeding upon
the edges of a canvas,
sketching sentiments
in shades of scarlet and sangria,
dipped in acute
amaranth acrylic.
You copy generated
text on
your virtual feed,
finding opportunities
to paraphrase someone
else’s personal prose,
yet remain ignorant to
feel their aura
from screens far away
I’m at my happiest
When my heart overflows
With kindness and gentle compassion
And feel the energy of the universe
Radiating from my heart
I feel my best when I resonate
With the harmony around me
Finding ways to enhance
The tapestry of mankind’s brotherhood
At times by gargantuan efforts
At times by seemingly trivial deeds
Always on the lookout to help and contribute
To make this world a better place
There is no end to the ways
I can have a significant impact
Though there's no way I'll never know
The ripple effect of my kindness
I’m at my happiest
When I recognize the beauty of humanity
And feel we are meshed as one solid community
Because I fit in and it is my honor and privilege to
Bestow kindness every hour every day of my life
Submitted on November 25, 2018 for contest A LITTLE KINDNESS NEVER HURTS sponsored by BRENDA CHIRI - RANKED 1ST
In silence, when darkness
envelopes the sky,
unlock the glass windows
of your mind,
forgive the stars
that veiled their silver,
for it is in times of
confusion and calamity,
we paint our own
rose wine twilight,
that scintillates beyond
fleeting fog of time and sanity.
Sometimes, we forget to
appreciate nature’s performance,
as life seems to be a
black gold theatre of
manipulative mantras.
We rise as actors dressed in
dancing stripes of integrity,
pirouetting like a merry-go-round
of lights, guiding our destiny.
Where melodramatic monologues
of melancholic laws
remain tucked away deep,
beneath a charismatic mattress
woven across turquoise trampolines,
of tranquil testaments and tiger lilies.
But as the curtains swiftly fly
into thin crimson layers of air,
trust the silence, for when
everything’s louder,
we find contentment in
compassionate places we encounter,
sowing seeds of love, whilst we hope;
brushing off negativity’s echoes,
to clutch onto inner healing’s rope,
and surrender to its throes.
So allow the invisible wand
of your soul that sears
to sprinkle pixie-dust upon
the backbone of cascading fears,
let your heartbeat ring
and strum every
metallic string of faith,
whilst thin veins in
throbbing waves hum,
“Kindness is the healing
stone and stoicism is the key of life”
INTEGRITY
Integrity is being true to yourself,
And having the courage
To admit when you are wrong.
It is choosing to do what is right,
In a world that's full of deceit and deception,
And stand firm in what you believe in.
It is being humble,
And treating others with respect
No matter who they are.
Integrity is something you're not born with,
It is something that is learned over time,
And is embedded in your heart.
Integrity is not focusing on who you are.
Or what you can gain from the world,
It is what you can give to the world
With truthfulness and faith in God.
Beneath embered brands of burning roof,
The firefighter waits.
His mask is on; he’s donned his gloves,
Ready to enter the fiery state.
Once again to battle beast,
Whose heart burns with flaming hate.
On hands and knees he treads with care
Over blackened brittle floor.
Making way through smoke dark rooms
Fighting fear from door to door.
Outstretched arms reach for muffled screams
Heard above the deafening roar.
Hoping to find before too late,
The source of curdling screams.
A scenario played all too oft
Within the hero’s dreams.
The task at hand his only thought
And the safety of his team.
Crying, scared a young child waits
For rescue from choking heat.
Then through the blackness something tugs
And pulls his trembling feet.
A Vadered voice says “it’s OK”
And hugs him to the street.
The fire alone remains to beat;
And return to fight he goes.
To find the beast alive and well;
Destroying, as it grows.
He aims his weapon at the seat
And from it water flows.
The devil dies as fire gives in
To the water’s cooling spray.
The house is gone; but at least,
No lives were lost today.
So back he jumps on bright red truck,
And into night he rides away.
In quiet contemplation,
The firefighter stares.
Holding back a hundred thoughts
That known might seem him scared.
But he pushes fear aside,
And treads where others do not dare!
Paul, Peter and the Tweeter
Why not choose,
a billionaire leader?
One who is not
an eloquent speaker.
Trouble rises,
he robs Paul to pay Peter.
The bold rich need tax savings,
forget about the meeker.
From a distance,
we watch the kingdom teeter.
Him smirking on high,
he thinks "What could be sweeter!"
Why oh why,
did so many choose that cheater?
Global temperature rising,
things aren't the same.
Scientific facts need hiding,
isn't that a shame?
There's new logic he's applying,
says coal dust isn't really flying.
Even though the fish are bitter
and you can't see them under the litter,
no one can turn down the heater.
"Fake News" he says,
check out T-Man's Twitter.
The Country is "Great Again",
cause he ain't no quitter!
Yet people are making less than their babysitter.
Good jobs will go with free trade,
might as well become a waiter.
Otherwise you’ll starve sooner or later.
People happy,
he wants to build a wall.
Mexico will pay,
so build it tall.
More immigrants?
You don't need them at all.
But no one left to pick the fruit,
or to be at your beck and call.
Watch it all fall,
for sure the economy will stall.
No one buying nothing at the mall.
Meanwhile
Klu Klux Klan standing tall.
If they ask him,
T-Man will let them guard his wall.
Look for all the signs,
a leader who's a hater.
Mastertweeting, flatulater.
A logic lacking debater,
self-loving,
self-promoting, congratulator!
If he pushes the button,
we might become a large crater.
He'll spin it and tell those left,
"I'm the great emancipator!"
If you don't believe him,
You’re just another disloyal traitor!
Sitting in a cloak of black conservatism:
I feel my hands,
oily on the desk like shortening in
slate gray cookie pans,
the speedway inside forcing the absence of
reabsorption,
And my thoughts,
so flippant to implore
if a man with a chartreuse neck tie
can see the long wet streaks
across the cherry plane.
He speaks,
a sequence of interrogatives
common to the bored walls
of serious conference,
evoking tone inflection
in the pattern of polite.
Darest I mention truth?
I am your whore;
infect me with smug integrity,
smack me with false prophet leadership,
just leave some crisp bills
on the nightstand, sugar.
Yet my voice models his wavelength,
relaying back the catchy tired language
of one hit wonders;
eyes brighten,
hands extend
from the man who owns a chartreuse tie.
Sigh.
Still,
complacency
awards a loaf of Wonder bread,
and a two bedroom lower.
There is not a poem that you fail to read
Or time that I’m away you don’t ask, “Why”?
There is not a time when you don’t plant a seed
Of joy into my heart when tears I cry
You’ve helped me to believe in what I give
Seen beauty in the silly lines I rhyme
You’ve helped me want a better life to live
And shown me Godly love time after time
You will not leave my writes without a thought
Oh what things need to change for smoother flow
A friendship true like yours cannot be bought
You’ve helped my heart to breathe, expand, and grow
A Guardian poet you have been to me
Accept my thanks and loyal constancy
Jade (Eileen to you, Richard Lamoureux)
This is my second poem by this title. Richard Lamoureux has been a constant friend, mentor, and guide. I so appreciate his integrity, honesty, and spirituality. He's encouraged me over the years I've been here.....to keep writing, to enter contests...and to believe in my self-worth, a precious gift. When I'm gone...he'll visit my older writes and leave a note. :) I've gained so much by reading his book- Dummy: Hurtful and Healing words which is so full of precious insights on the power of words to heal or destroy. Well I know this power. Well have I suffered because of it.
People come and go...It's good to know some are there for the long haul. Some are there simply because they care...nothing more...nothing less. Thanks, Richard.