Best Intimated Poems
O God of the universes of Creation as a whole
I raise my hands; and open my heart and soul.'
Prostrate I call upon your power, to bless my
Friends in these long dark hours' these days
Long abhorred stand now at their doors, I ask
You gird their spirits with strength; enlighten their
Minds that they drive hence' each evil time that
They may face, pray turn them into typhoons
That will remove each trace; those of fear, of doubt
and all false pride, beside them; I ask your power
Resides, of your angel throng assign to them
More than they ever need, these women and men.'
Andrea Deitrich Michael Tor Heidi sands Connie
Marcum Wong Judy Ball Bill Baker Robert Ligouri
Joseph May Harry Horseman Brother Jacob
Sally Eslinger Sara Kendrick Sam Kaufman Joe
Dimino Len Gasun Pangiota Romios James
Marshall Goff Billy the Kidster Vince Suzdail
Jnr Kim Rodriuges Beta Augustin Rob Carmac
Robert Lindley Brandy Nichole Laura Leiser
And last, but not least B J Legros Kelly '
Much Love to all.'
May they each put to flight any 5000 that come
Up against them in any honourable venture they
Embark upon, be that written spoken or intimated
May you be with them each one dear Lord in Jesus
Name with the Holy Spirit as witness.'
I wish I’d had the courage to ask you
why you treated me so differently to my sibling
You gave her private education at Norland -
yet I did the same course but at the local technical college
You purchased a house for her -
yet I had to save up with my husband to buy our own
You paid for her driving lessons, bought her a car
whilst I had 5 casual jobs and paid for my own
You gave her money on tap
yet I’ve have had to work for everything we own
At the end of the day
you never treated me like I was your daughter.
Since you died …
Mum’s intimated you weren’t my father …
I wish I’d had the courage to ask before you died
NB Neither myself or mum have grieved in the five years since he died - as for my sister I have no idea, as she cut all contact with the family after she inherited part of dad's estate from me and mum.
Norland is a private college in Berkshire - it's where the Royal Nannies come from
awarded poem of the day 9/10/20
awarded trophy 9/29/20
Previously received n/a in courage Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cook
09/09/20
I remember the first time I saw a ball,
Those exquisite black and white pentagons ...
The geometric excellence that intimated such mystery and excitement ...
I HAD to have one, and started saving my money that very day.
I was only eight years old, and football wasn't big in the U.S.,
But I still wanted that amazing ball ...
After a few weeks of saving and doing extra chores,
I finally held my own ball in my hands,
Turning those five-sided panels over-and-over,
Smelling that glorious leather ... I was in kid heaven!
When I took it to school in my backpack my friends went crazy,
All having to hold it and smell it, all filled with the same energy as I,
My gut tumbling in anticipation of what amazing things might happen!
My little town had no budget for American "football" -
With all its pads and expensive equipment, but we did have "soccer" teams,
And I joined as soon as I could, for the sake of that amazing ball!
We didn't get to see the World Cup back then ...
The 60's and 70's being very limited as far as TV sports,
But we all followed it in the magazines and papers,
And when, years later, we finally got to WATCH the World Cup on television,
It was the substantiation of years spent loving a game
That not many people even TALKED about in the United States ...
A game that my friends and family and little town had loved for years,
Now birthed to fruition and delicious reality right in front of our eyes!
My friends from other parts of the country had heroes -
Heroes like Bart Starr and Bill Russell and Micky Mantle, et al,
But MY hero was PELE', though many here didn't even know his name!
When TV brought the World Cup to kids like me, the world became bigger,
More exciting, and more joyous, all because of that wondrous ball ...
So many years before!
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "2018 World Cup" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Sponsor & Judge.
a life is a life
there is no grading scale of value
irrespective of
country of origin
or country of residence
or country of destination
a life is a life
we are all children
of God
there is no lesser God
there is no greater God
there is God
the Supreme Being
We are all his children
we call Him by different names
that is to our own shame
He is the same
a life is a life
not man's to take
not man's to torture
not man's to break
a life is a life
the life blood still seeps
into the ground
while we stand by and weep
and still the question echoes
"where is your brother?
where is your sister?
where are the children?
where are the mothers
the fathers?
whose blood is soaking the ground?"
and still we shamelessly bellow:
"Am I my Brother's Keeper?"
and the answer hasn't change
time cannot change it
nor circumstance
"yes"
......"Oh, Yes!"
we are one family
Don't just let it be...
"Who cares!
it's not happening to me!"
Stockholm and Syria
My heart is crying
endless requiem
for those dead and dying
a life is a life is a life...is a life
one day that life will be mine
one day that life will be yours
that life will be taken
taken by force
who places the value on life?
Silence is the breeding ground
where atrocitiesmflourish
"after all, who remembers the Armenians"
Hitler intimated
as the Jews he annihilated
Speak OUT!
a life is a life
death was not meant to be
not for them
not for you
not for me
a life is a life
Eileen Manassian
trigger warning Rape, sexual harassment
you were 6 when the boy in the desk behind you kept pulling your ponytail till he made you cry. It was okay though,it meant you had pretty hair.
You were 9 when the ball kicked at you by the boys in the field coloured your eye instead of the makeup you were not yet allowed to wear. It was okay though, they did that because you were so pretty you intimated them.
You were 12 when the filthy fingers of the boy next you on the bus marked your thighs blue. You didn't tell anyone though. You knew it was your fault really; that skirt was too seductive.
You were 16 when the man on the other side of the street had the brilliant idea of following you down the road, cornering you in that dark aisle and thrusting himself inside of you. Only to leave you there, a bloody half-naked carcass, repeating to yourself again and again that this was okay. This was okay because boys will be boys. Girls? Well, we just have to take it like a man.
A delusory pleasure bristled the solitary abator
And the dusky night rides down the sky
An ethereal beauty demoed with her au naturel demeanor
The solitary abator bumps with illusions, thus far realisms high.
Elated with red-hot mysticisms the abator closed his eyes
And mildly felt the zephyr over the mum wispy time
She reposed in her bareness beside his devout envies
The abator fluffed up ca-cacing his limbs to ease with spirit and bine.
An awaited soul perked up with flavour of lust and zeal
And the midnight silence prolonged to be livening with insidiousness
She abreast herself over his frvid spirit of unreal
The abator matte-up bosoming her with barmy tenderness.
The ravenous abator intimated himself in the same state of bareness
And the dark moonless night beamed with perfect ecstacy and elan
She ooohed legalizing the demon-ridden enduringness
The abator held himself with an abrupt spasmodic movement of his organ.
The wonky estrus abator coaxed himself with the pleasure of onanism
And the gentle breeze was felt to soothe the pragmatism
Slowly her au naturel beauty faded, idling the eroticism
Bequeathing the abator's midnight oneirism.
As a child and a teenager I used to attend a mission-hall,
Which had an outreach to the homeless of Edinburgh;
And every three weeks until I was about seven,
They would give the last call so that god could your soul deliver.
They said at the end of every sermon,
Every three weeks in the evening,
“This is the last call!” and they meant ever,
‘Cos Jesus could return any time for the believing.
I felt so intimated by it, this unkind presence of mind,
That I could not properly sit on my seat,
But I knew that they were insane with melancholy,
And that it was the real dynamics of life that they could not heat.
I refused to chat with them after services and at the youth club,
About what I believed and about the in and outs of my thoughts,
But poignantly sat down with the Youth Fellowship leader once,
And talked to him about what in me life had very clearly wrought.
When I said outrightly that I did not believe in the Second Coming,
And that life was for keeps, give or take a few possibilities,
It was as if his world crashed down disarrayed in shambles,
As he was shattered by my philosophical sway and confident amble.
He realised fully that I was damning their last call,
The pressure of it and how it riled, writhed and tormented;
That it was for no good reason, for no universal moral principle,
For no disciplinary cause and for no complimentary angle.
So he arrogantly walked away from me, rudely with passivity,
Not aware of his own need of polity, sense and direction,
But it was a triumph for that mission-hall boy worker,
To react to an objector so firmly and not himself recapture.
They were generally unresponsive and indifferent,
To intelligent objectors who had a righteous way,
Because this left them with their day-to-day lunacy,
With reality dressed for them to face another day.
That mission has changed today into a Christian centre,
Bright and refurbished and selling lunches in a cafe,
And I am proud of its journey, how far it came,
Because the transition was by no means lame.
The Busiest swallows and adamant cranes
settled at last
Alluring starlings in murmuration
caught my gaze
Roosting of these birds proclaimed
a marvelous wonder
A beautiful young girl wore
the fluffy gown
and the corners were stitched
with a golden lace
Golden Angel was ready for the photoshoot
against a purple BG
The clear blue sky camouflaged
with sparse hues
Light orange color adorned
the passing clouds
And the mesmerizing purple color
intimated the SUNSET
After becoming confident
(das ernest frank gent) handled ignition
jerryrigged knobs, levers, motors,
nameless other parts quintessentially,
set registers to “understand” vital www xy zone.
----------------------------------------------------------
A blitzkrieg capstone detonated explosive forcees
generating horrendous instantaneous jolt,
Krakatoa lost mighty noise,
outrageous phenomena qualified regarding
tremendous unearthly violent
whiplashing xing yawping zeitgeist!
----------------------------------------------------------
Imagine; The giant from Jack and the beanstalk, deign
Paul Bun, or the Jolly Green Giant,
straddling an imaginary line
between fall and winter. Therein lied the rub
(a tub tub three men in a tub), a question of mine
if pecking peccadillos peculiar per pretend puppies
engaged in any...Snoop...doggy style spine
tingling homosexual behavior,
no who matter intimated naked playtime also flourished
amidst can dyed cornicopia of good 'n plenty eats
contrasted with paucity,
life and death, Halloween evolved
as a celebration and superstition with wine
woman and song. Such weaning of the hallow,
or hallow of the weaner originated
with ancient Celtic festival of Samhain,
when village people would light vanity of bonfires,
and wear politically incorrect costumes
to ward off roaming ghosts of inept leaders
if necessary rivaling Tarzan impressions
swinging on a vine.
The Mound of the Hostages car bon mot dated
(by this amateur sigh hint hussed)
at 4,500 to 5000 years old, or there about
suggesting Samhain celebrated long before
first Celts arrived in Ireland
about 2,500 years ago with no cleats boot riveting clout
Samhain (pronounced /'s??w?n/
SAH-win or /'sa?.?n/ SOW-in,
Irish pronunciation: without,
or possibly Greek to this doubt
ting Thomas – [s??u?n?]),
a Gaelic festival marking the end,
when pollination ceased to flout
ushered advent of harvest season,
and beginning cust tomb of caw king grout,
discussing the epic winter of Gilgamesh,
or the "darker half" of the year,
when one feasted on giblets and sauer kraut
Halloween rooted er beer reed in ancient biers
caravansari doggedly exhumed along route,
66 (the third beastly 6
Hanging is too good for them,
Should cut their danglies off.
Use a rusty jigsaw blade,
They’d be afraid to cough.
Our great Judicial system,
with infinite foresight,
Ignores these sound suggestions,
That you and I think right.
For Judges and the legal type,
at our expense guffaw,
believing that like
God and Queen,
they are above the Law.
It is often intimated,
that despite this regal pose,
they wear peepholes bras
and stockings underneath their
Chamber robes.
No underpants to interfere,
restrict ,affect or stay
thus keeping verdicts
cool and poised
for any courtroom play.
So when Chief Justice
leans or frowns
or shuffles on his throne
Its probably suspenders
that are causing him to moan
Or just perhaps
his strapless bra,
Is chaffing on his back,
perchance his basque’s
laced up too tight,
or his g-strings up his crack.
Some trials that end surpisingly,
the verdict gone askew,
Owe more to misplaced
leather thong,
than legal point of view.
Perhaps the nuts that
need cut off,
are not from pervert kind,
but rather leading Legal ones,
No longer sound of mind.
Ephemeral online moment...
Yours truly plagiarizes himself with zeal
courtesy mental cogs and rusty wheel,
thus no literary crime committed to steel
I broadcast material shown thru rickety
black and white Roman Times newsreel
forthwith shoddy wordplay exempts me
against copyright infringement meaning
only I own privilege to take self to heel,
nevertheless yours truly hoops longshot
to score brownie points a higher power,
I will not cajole, bribe nor appeal...
while sitting on haunches horsing around
contemplating how to clearly expound
idea that the here and now does not exist
cuz no sooner then present moment
experienced than bitta bing bitta bang...
little block of time immediately gone,
hence quite profound...
Whereby present, i.e.
2:24 PM March 4th, 2021
instantaneously becomes past.
Linkedin thru tenuous
webbed world wide
electronic thread defied
no matter flurry of emails/
messages exchanged flattery applied
courtesy transient online
tête à tête downside
cyber venue offers convenient exit
personal aversion, I chide
brevity figurative thorn in side
futile effort Androcles tried
I haint lion, familiarization denied
fledgling cyber acquaintanceships
dead on the vine, yours truly sighed
potential friendship never fortified,
cuz immediate value judgement cast,
instantaneously prejudiced aversion
perhaps hidden agenda implied
maybe intimated illusions of grandeur
netiquette nuances overstepped, I chide
yours truly vouchsafe
absolute zero great expectation
love smitten wounds pride,
the Italian girl in Algiers
inchoate mystique forever unknown
nonetheless fantasize bartered bride
figment of overactive imagination
hence grist for poetry mill
grateful fleeting rapport tried
to take flight before sputtering
doomed to dustbin of history (mine)
filed within memory as template guide
against future unnecessary disappointment
best stick to your guns abide
against infatuation lest
conjured lass doth override
focus on reality no matter who espied
Facebook post, tis foolhardy
to allow, enable, and provide leeway,
hence aimless thoughts elide
dear boy, ya never learned always denied
rapture becoming ensnared
noose sense and sensibility stride
ding blindly, dumbly, foolishly...,
into own perilous entrapment, verstehen?
Linkedin thru tenuous
webbed world wide
electronic thread defied
no matter flurry of emails/
messages exchanged flattery applied
courtesy transient online
tête à tête downside
cyber venue offers convenient exit
personal aversion, I chide
brevity figurative thorn in side
futile effort Androcles tried
I haint lion, familiarization denied
fledgling cyber acquaintanceships
dead on the vine, yours truly sighed
potential friendship never fortified,
cuz immediate value judgement cast,
instantaneously prejudiced aversion
perhaps hidden agenda implied
maybe intimated illusions of grandeur
netiquette nuances overstepped, I chide
yours truly vouchsafe
absolute zero great expectation
love smitten wounds pride,
the Italian girl in Algiers
inchoate mystique forever unknown
nonetheless fantasize bartered bride
figment of overactive imagination
hence grist for poetry mill
grateful fleeting rapport tried
to take flight before sputtering
doomed to dustbin of history (mine)
filed within memory as template guide
against future unnecessary disappointment
best stick to your guns abide
against infatuation lest
conjured lass doth override
focus on reality no matter who espied
Facebook post, tis foolhardy
to allow, enable, and provide leeway,
hence aimless thoughts elide
dear boy, ya never learned always denied
rapture becoming ensnared
noose sense and sensibility stride
ding blindly, dumbly, foolishly...,
into own perilous entrapment, verstehen?
She!
Intimated by guilt broken by perplexity
Waiting for the love her life but until then,
committed to memories of forlorn moments
Threading on the joy rides of halcyon days.
Her!
Heart of a woman in the depths solitude
Plunged and played by people she called friends
Lonely soul tormented even by happy melodies
In her emptiness void her soul forever shivers.
He!
Four and half years in self enclosed walls
Loosing very essence of youthful love in a rage
Finally tumbled down the walls of solitude blind
Enclosed soul spirited away into the blues
Man!
Living in the love of the common people
Somewhere in the back streets of the slums
Upholding the dream of becoming a hero
With nothing more than hope and love from above.
Woman!
Years upon years of sitting at lecture rooms
Graduated with a class but no pass for a job
You know the norm of the day
If it’s not in she won’t be on board
Keep calm hold onto your faith
God is at work .
You!
Balancing ambition with conscience
On the road less traveled.
A tapestry of soul breaking fortuity
That eyes the very core of your maturity.
The start ups ,the gigs and realities you quest,
Gradually you will get there .
I
In my simple form in rolling waves
Light hearted or heavy ladened
With poetry or with spoken words
Even in my nothingness and in my woes
I will forever defy the cryptic void of silence.
She will smile .
Her heart will find home .
Man will find love .
She will be a wife ,A woman of dignity.
His dreams will come true.
Hold on to you faith and let’s go and get it,
Everything we’ve been dreaming.
God have our backs
We!
We are a work In progress
There will be fails but we will never regress
Steady and gradually we will evolve
In love and in laughter all the pain will dissolve
In due time when we are done,
They will thread here to see
From far and near they will travel over the seas
The atheist will sing hallelujah
The doubters will lurk in their disbelief
Our tales will be history
Our memories will be legacies
For we are a work in progress; Winners
within.
Her touch
tempts him wild
A shock of heat
bleeds him blind
The intoxicating brew
of her juices and smells
The lips conjured
An erotic flame.
His fingers exploring
Her tempting contours
sensational rush,
their body quivers...
He see her sway
He see her move...
He see her curves
and felt her skin
silk smooth.
The flow of sensation
sparks like an electric wire
The cold weather
seems to them like a burning fire.
The night was prolonged
with gentle breeze
and her breath
aerated loud
as he felt her navel
with his dewy lips...
the pleasure aroused
as she seized him with her arms
and gently she played with her fingers
On his back to inspire the charm.
She squealed
she palliated
out of prurience and pain
when he felt her
'rose wet cave'.
They savored
they intimated
out of trust and faith
when she cajoled him
withal she gave.
Twas the night after Christmas
Alone with my tinder, ex-spouse
Holed up with this fumigating grouse
Trite presents with her I did douse
Wrapped with old newspaper that she did delouse
With boiling anger she did fumble then browse
From recycled boxes pulled a dingy sweater and moldy blouse
Fueled by spite she began to spew and touse
When to her glee, she my present did espouse
An unwrapped cask of cheap wine, she did uprouse
She intimated that I could now intox and bouse
While she with a better man did carouse
After a few drinks, the blanched holly and mildewing mistletoe did
arouse
A tender feeling for that renovated louse