Best Intermediate Poems
A Burst Of Orange
By Lauren Hardman
For me,
Orange
Bright and new
Symbolizes warmth
Acceptance
And strength.
Orange blends well
With fuchsia pink.
The two colors
Match up nicely
To construct
Alluring sunsets
Along with sunrises.
Orange has
An intermediate tone
That isn’t black or white.
It allows for great contrasts
With numerous colors.
That’s a facet of orange
That I appreciate.
It’s kind of like life.
People need to be different
To be united.
The brilliant color
Makes me feel elated!
It uplifts my mood,
Molds my personality,
Puts my mind at ease.
It unfolds a creative
Sweet side of me.
That lets me be
Who I am.
I realized who I am
By doing things I love.
Singing,
Playing piano,
Drawing designs,
Examining various colors,
Crafting poems like this one.
I believe that
All colors tap into
The depths of your imagination
And provide
Great insight
Into who you are.
In the intermediate zone between heaven and hell
opinions and complaints, after much moaning, may
come to be held in common.
The way a flock of chickadees
moves through the woods, cheerfully,
each bird taking a turn on point.
All meaning must be found, here, in the middle zone,
notwithstanding fears that rend and own us,
of dying unknown.
A Spring day
the flycatcher broke its neck against our bay window
nothing changed.
I buried it, somewhat reverently, in a shallow grave.
No differently, really, than I would a man
who'd died suddenly.
Who'd left footprints in the snow
which became wild lily-of-the-valley, running pine
then snow again in time.
After long enmity
Sally hugs me, asks if I've been happy.
A moment in a year.
February, the light is long, more direct.
It's meaningless, repetitious
but held dear.
'Vanity of vanity, all is vanity... and chasing after wind'
evokes a mood of despair, precious few grins
Ecclesiastes is read in most synagogues on Sukkoth
though it might not win any congregants' votes
Yet after chasing rainbows and riches throughout his life
King Solomon, who after all, married hundreds of wifes
Came to the conclusion that most eventually do
Our fortune is there in our home, right in plain view...
Be kind, do good deeds for others
All men are your brothers
Fear God and fulfill His every command ~
The ultimate purpose of Man
______________________________________________
Notes: The first line above is quoted from Ecclesiastes 1:1.
The last two lines above are taken from 12:13.
The Festival of Sukkoth (rhymes with 'boat') begins 20
minutes before sundown, Sunday, Oct. 09, and (the first
part) ends 45 - 90 minutes after sunset on Tuesday, Oct. 11
(There is an 'intermediate portion' of the Festival from Tues-
day night through next Sunday afternoon, followed by a con-
cluding Festival, Shemini Atzereth, from Sunday evening
through Tuesday night next week. (And yes, it can get con-
fusing, esp. with a Sabbath during the intermediate days).
How happy is the imperial kingship!
And who is our just King, Jesus, Jesus;
A kingship is royal, a kingship is regal;
Our King is Jesus;
a kingship is majestic, however,
Mercies reigns abundant;
As I’m giving joyful noise to Our Father;
Our only one provider;
a kingship is majestic, however;
Mercies reigns abundant;
One afternoon I said to myself,
What must I do to be saved?
Shall I do it in haste, for Jesus is on His way
"Why isn't my life more intermediate?"
Are you upset by how forward it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the my sins soon forgiven?
This so the world asks, you got to be kidding??
Are you upset by how fine it is?
Happy is the imperial kingship!
And who is our just King, Jesus, Jesus
A kingship is royal, a kingship is regal;
Our King is Jesus;
a kingship is majestic, however,
Mercies reigns abundant
Kingdom Mercy Kingdom Light
4/6/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr.2019
-Colossians 1:12
Intermediate truths must do for now ~
Until God’s grace does not wisdom endow
We are in distress and so seek solace ~
Clinging to a faith to garner God’s grace
We look to the sky, thinking God’s out there ~
It’s a guessing game, of mind unaware
Every ism worships a different God ~
Is not sun the life source, that leaves us awed
Scriptures we believe in, bind and confine ~
Why not simply, with pulse of love align
The path is simple: meld head with the heart ~
The truth is oneness: all one, none apart
I am teetering at the brim of progress
The self I spend to be of worth
Is the same self that I had to earn
And to what end?
I ask,
At what fee?
The ones that stand down do so for free
And all that’s left is work for me
(Fr ,
PdV)
I hauled up, masochistic Sisyphus
All they did was balk
Scatter, Jack and Jill
Emptily talk
About how hard, how far
Never
I could not
And then for an instant I was on top
[King parenthetical]
They stood with their calculators
Screaming
But negative RTlnKeq ???
Kb T times ln W ???
Enthalpy minus T entropy,
Gives us the standard energy ???
I saw the people finally sap
It was halfway forward to halfway back
I felt something snap
And I fell unfathomably far
To a different bottom
A different problem
I stood intermediate at the foot of the unknown
Before a taller peak to dethrone
--
Note: Gibbs Free Energy (delta G) is a thermodynamic parameter used to describe reactions and stability in chemistry. It is common to see a diagram of delta G vs. reaction progress. These free energy diagrams consist of continuous curves with peaks and troughs. The lower the energy, the more stable.
Unfortunately you have to have significant background knowledge in chemistry to understand every reference.
Limerick: Once a Woman-Cleanser in Malawi
for Seodi White
Once (a) Widow-Cleanser* in Malawi
Insisted (on) being paid double fee
The dead man made certain
Left gift (on) this side (of) curtain
Now Cleanser on (the) dole with H.I.V.
• The “Widow-Cleanser” is a Malawian professional
“intermediate husband” of widows imposed on women
who cannot – under the laws of Malawi - own anything
legally, EVEN their bodies. The Woman-Cleanser sleeps
with widows for a fee ($50/-) in order to prevent widows
and future husbands – from being polluted by the dead
husband.
This limerick dramatises facts divulged in a CNN interview with
valorous women-rights lawyer: Seodi WHITE on March 17, 2013.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Is it fair to judge someone based on their experiences in life and write about them?
I've been told that I express too many feelings about my past...
How can that be? Why would someone say that?
My feelings were hurt...I used to be an introvert...
Not anymore..I've lived. I've learned. I admit I have been burned...
Days turned into months and months into years,
and here I landed, where I am at this exact moment in my life.
I have been through hell and back...and back again
and I know many people have too.
Whats the difference??
I find that writing about my past brings healing, and healing helps me learn lessons and lessons turn into blesso'ns.
My accumulation of knowledge I own today has expanded far from my yesterday's.
My internal knowledge I share today brings increasing hope for my tomorrow's.
My present remains just that.
An intermediate between the past and future.
And today is a gift.
I haven't always felt this way.
See, no matter the circumstance
no matter the reasoning
no matter what the false people proclaim, I am me...I am here..
and I am proud of myself.
It would be amazing if there is someone
out there who has been through the same thing I have been through
and felt a sense of hope and redemption.
I have conquered addiction.
I have faced many losses.
But..
I also have fought through them with all my energy
and every ounce of determination I had.
Writing about my obstacles and how I faced them
brings a sense of healing through my pen onto paper.
Many have been where I have been.
Many know about loss and the convictions I have faced.
I am not afraid to share my circumstances because
they made me who I am today.
And I wouldn't want to be anyone else in this world.
I am Laura.... This is who I am....
Date Written: January 14, 2016
Written By: Laura Loo (and proud of it)
The four lettered word spoken,
by your aggrandized soul,
has spiritually awoken,
revitalized and made me whole.
Your aura is a heavenly halo,
a circle of light above your head,
known for the warmth you throw,
I cry as your whiteness spreads.
Sensing your internal light,
wherever, whenever, in day or night,
conceived by your beautiful sight,
forgetting all about the pain of delight.
Your aura reflects like a prism,
during mid-summers day heat
and yes I'll follow your rhythm
and If needed, I shall repeat.
Your field of energy, not invisible,
distinct intangible intense quality,
our completeness is invincible,
reaching the highest velocity.
Sacred reflections understood,
you and I share this secret,
declared free of falsehood,
our desires become intermediate.
I whisper, “My sweet Nicholas,”
you whisper, “My dear Laura”,
I wish the whole world could witness,
our shared consecrated aura.
~Written By: Laura Loo~
~Written Date: February 1, 2016~
Fingers pirouetting semi-nimbly on the keyboard
the intermediate ballet course of my muse
encoding the fleeting images and rhythms
before they escape, a joyous outflowing
And from the rough direction of the office,
or perhaps the Throne Room next to it,
a shuffling sound, crinkle, rustle, whoosh
like the printer whirring to life
Identification of the sound brings a chortle of defensive laughter
the cat scraping litter to cover her own joyous outflowing
printing out a good one, like I hope to
my muse dreams in four colorful dimensions;
my poems print in merely two flat, ink-and-papery dimensions
how many dimensions does the cat’s muse touch,
given that she just printed in three-dee living color,
her inspiration complete and satisfying, with no editing?
Again I reflect on the destiny of our efforts
both hers and my ephemeral creations bound for roughly the same fate:
the landfill, eventually, in one form or another,
loved but forgotten
7/24/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
If cloth was a fitting and a rope was meant to be warn I have to,
Say I be the teller because I get to dress you head to toe,
See the sophistication of the clothes is not the prices tag,
But thoroughly in intermediate of changing not clothes but tone,
And if I am to loud from the shoulder down to the hip what place,
Is a little more thick,
Women are told that can read a man in ten second but what behind,
This eyes is a sense of morality even the dead could not wake such a soul,
The dress that the teller appeal is sense of more then morality,
Such symbolic color and shape meaning and culture are coded down,
To the heme of the shoes that could mean grace be to the god never going cheat,
Or in next year divorce and aliment is on the way,
Why rush in love because lost love is the most dangerous,
Why not be friends to start,
Because you are truly appreciation,
That is the word for today,
Appreciation.
“The accumulation of KNOWLEDGE I own today
has expanded far from my...
-yesterday's.
The accumulation of WISDOM I share today
brings increasing hope for my...
-tomorrow's."
My PRESENT remains just that, an intermediate between my past and future-
the longing I release into my intimate experiences f r e e me from affliction.
My quill has bonded with my parchment and together has created a suture-
writing each day is but a piece of granite engraved with a WISE inscription.
Rhyme Scheme: A-B-A-B
One and One - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Rick Parise
Date Written: September 3, 2016
It was a winter morning, last November
I recall my journey from my treasured frames
of amasses, titters and acts.
She was in an intermediate between red and blue
and her eyes pored out from all realisms
with a smile unnoticed on her face
Yet she burst forth with glory of her own platonisms.
Who so ever knew what she was questioning
But the forbearance that glistered
My heart answered for once
She wants to be the female monarch of her own world.
It was my keen ballet from core of my heart
her arrival was greeted with a rousing fanfare
I ruminated my own euphony
whether I'm being enamored or was it a desire.
I arrogated myself for a rime to perorate
I expected somehow to discover a woman who would love me
and embellished some oneirisms in my heart
A feeling that I was afraid of but then it seemed like am living for once.
Note: Dedicated to my Love, Piyali Shome
I sat down... down... down...
falling into retributions of lost souls with
heavy hearts.
I stood up... up... up...
standing high enough to see the pain
crowding over the decades
of intermediate relations.
I fell down... down.. down...
deep enough to catch a glimpse
of the fires of the hell I created.
I flew up... up... up...
high in the sky with hawks
tearing apart their prey
like it was nothing.
I was your prey.
You were my hawk.
I was your hell.
You were my heaven.
I was your lost cause.
You were my purpose.
I walked toward... toward... toward...
the black door of goodbyes...
I ran away... away... away...
far enough to not see my past,
yet close enough to still feel the pain.
Written By: Laura Loo
Date Written: March 29, 2016
I climbed to the highest mountains
and swam across the seas,
thinking what's the universe,
this earth in it,
and us, little brave creatures.
Wisdom I searched for,
not to be wise.
Like the air of the wind
and the light of the sun
is the knowledge of wisdom,
can't catch it,
need device to harness.
Difficult knowledge,
concealed nature of the things,
the tree of knowledge without roots,
knowing but... doubting,
feeling to learn it in an other way;
wisdom is not only to know,
it's to devise the known
to look as if it was unkown.
Experience and intuition,
insight, and common sense
are there, blended together
and maturing over generations.
No one claims ownership,
in due time, becomes gold,
precious, forbidden by its own value.
Precious wisdom is: hunger
and war must not exist.
Never claims the victory of shallow pride.
So confident !
Droplet by droplet leaves
a mark on the hardest of rocks.
Philosophy got to know wisdom's
value and made friends with,
still lives; 2500 years later
stays young and wanted,
lighting our way to the nature of being.
Write a book wise :
'introduction to wisdom',
'intermediate wisdom',
'advanced wisdom',
then count the wise,
no more added.
All the wisdom of the universe
is trapped in a seed,
see in silliness wisdom too,
the behavior of nature's
littlest creatures,
the bee's pollination,
and the change of seasons.
Tame the senses,
don't live life, smell it, taste it.
caress life from a distance.
No matter what I did, there remains the unknown to blame for my misfortunes.
Nature's wisdom, drive my thoughts.
At the edge of the universe is the edge of existence.