Best Introduction Poems
She slipped into the single’s club,
where an assortment
of horny guys and lonely hearts had assembled.
Some were there hoping to find that "special" someone
and some had come to chase away the blues,
tinkling ice in cocktail glasses soon to be refilled.
Others, who might be labeled commitment phobic,
had simply come to case the place for an easy lay.
Swinging svelte, mini-skirted hips lasciviously,
she strutted over to the counter
on legs that looked their longest and most shapely
from being hoisted on high red heels.
Every pair of eyes was trained on her.
Some in the club gawked
with eyes that hid beneath mascara-painted lashes, flitting envy.
Others leered with pupils dilating lust
from ogling the two soft protrusions in her tight white turtleneck.
Then with pink champagne in hand,
the goddess turned and surveyed her audience,
most of whom by now had looked away.
One remained, mesmerized, with eyes riveted on her.
He quivered when she caught his gaze
and strolled over to where he sat.
As she approached, he marveled at her face -
the chiseled cheekbones strong and high,
the dark eyes, luminescent and immense,
and curiously, an upturned nose so delicate
it seemed almost too perfect,
like one acquired from a sculptor’s hands.
He gulped when she asked him for a dance,
and as he asked this intriguing lady’s name,
he wondered at the timbre of her voice,
so provocative and low as she tossed dark brown locks
and said seductively,
“My name is Lola. L-O-L-A , Lola.”
Inspired by an old song from the 70's and
used now for Skat's the Premiere Contest number 10 Poetry Contest
(A Correspondence Course for Anyone Who Would Be Loved
by Someone Like Me)
Of course, it is clear; you deserve to be loved,
But your 'romances' so far are not going well,
It seems those you're attracting are all immature,
But, except for that fact, things "are great" you can tell!
You're open to love almost all of the time,
But more serious people are nowhere in sight,
And it seems so unfair that they're hiding this way,
How you long for a partner to hold you each night!
It's good though that you're not ashamed to seek help
And I promise to work hard to further your cause,
No one doubts your intention to marry my friend,
But to be safe on road heart must know driving laws.
Your license so far has been "learner's permit,"
And a person must practice to play a good game
You can see it in ones that you date, not yourself?
Win Gold Medal in Love when your own heart's not lame.
Brian Johnston
4th of June, 2018
Poet's Notes:
I hope to make this a series of poems! Keep your eyes open!
And Good Luck! Noone ever has more love than they need! Love that overwhelms is not love!
Will take you to my leader,
for this I'll be obliged.
Not a problem, will do that,
my leader I'll provide.
To my leader, you will go,
you are a special guest.
Am sure will make you satisfied,
you should be quite impressed.
My leader is responsible...
confident and correct,
True leaders are respectable;
so others will respect.
Mine is no exception,
she's brave and also strong.
Commend when one is righteous,
calls out when one is wrong.
Without hesitation, t'is an honour-
introducing to thee,
Soundly and profoundly-
MY LEADER IS ME.
I gave myself this name because it describes me well
I enjoy writing about my happiness and where I fail
Just by reading my poetry you're getting to know me
If I haven't introduced myself I go by the name Key
Keyonda is my full name although I don't like it
So I use either name depending who I'm talking with
I started writing poetry at the age of sixteen
Keeping me less stressed and balanced in between
An emotional person is constantly busy in the mind
Although on the outside everything seems just fine
Expressed emotions are better when written down
Emotions that are real gives them their unique sound.
Blues and white blowing
On top of green, peeking through
Spring new beginnings
As I Recall, is a collection of humorous and heartfelt short stories and poetry sharing moments from a life full of laughter and love. I have long wanted to record memories of my childhood for family and friends. But, I was so busy with life, I didn't take the time. I'm older now, and have even more to share. And, I'm a grandfather who feels a desperate need to preserve memories of his life for another generation. Early in the process, I discovered more than a need to leave something for the family. I found a new voice that was filled with colorful and descriptive passages to deliver my messages. The voice has an understanding of the human spirit base upon experiences as a son, brother, friend, husband, father and teacher.
I hope you find this book entertaining, compassionate and as much fun to read as it was to write. Maybe it will inspire you to write a book of your own.
Ray Dillard
May 19, 2013
This is the introduction from my book. It is available online from numerous bookstores in soft cover, hardback and ebook formats. Look it up and read sample stories to find out if the introduction is adequate. RAY
Take yourself on a journey into the past with this remarkable first book in the series, Sword of the Holy Grail. Award winning author and poet Isaiah Zerbst brings you his first novel, Oake of Caemarthen. Set in the breathtaking grandeur of the Welsh mountains and the mysterious wolds of England, this book depicts with startling historical accuracy the adventure-filled life of several families that lived during the Medaeval era.
Replete with tales of knightly daring, chivalry, and courtly love, this epic tale traces the campaigns of the final Welsh Rebellion until their conclusion, when the three mighty Welsh warriors, Oake, Tristan, and Afenedd return to their castle with their entourage, only to find their loved ones in the power of their mortal enemy, De Valence. Nothing but the very power of heaven and men willing to sacrifice their lives for their family can free them from his cruel grasp of iron.
Though Wales is torn by war, bereavement, mixed loyalties, and the death of their beloved King Llywelyn at the hands of the invading English, there is still room for miracles, good times, and the courtly elegance of romance.
This special first edition contains numerous poems by the author, as well as many authentic songs, ballads, and hymns of the time, over four hundred pages of edge-of-your-seat reading, and more than fifty truly astounding full-page colour illustrations, painted exclusively for this unparalleled novel by the renowned Scottish artist, Elgin Cannaught.
Written by Isaiah Zerbst on May the 22d, 2013
AN INTRODUCTION OF NEFREDA MARIA CASTLE OF THE BEAN PEOPLE
I am Nefreda Maria Castle of the Bean People.
Today, I feel appease and pleased by the peace I see in Giantvillism.
Giant and Maddy are an ordered paired in harmony in that they are structuring a meaningful world.
My husband, Jake, and my children; Jake. Jr., Nefreda Marie, and Joseph, and I have travelled afar to this beautiful existence beyond.
We bring unity in the belief of what the future holds for all of us.
Therefore, we are prepared for the troubles that confront us and we are armed to protect and defend each home front.
Nefreda Maria begins to sing…
A SELF-IMAGE
I am a lifespan.
I am a journey partook.
I am woman.
I am the light and the truth.
Within destiny, I strive for meaning and peace.
I am a schema of thorough belief -
A base of knowledge that breathes discovery.
I am life now and I am here to acclaim my own.
Imminently, I frame.
I am a niche in a divided space.
Proclamation of the existence of personal recourse –
I am a voice, a look, and an expression.
I am a Bean person.
In years to come and not beyond that, life will span.
The future I am not.
I am here to create a better tomorrow.
My destiny has not been perceived.
I am my creator.
Life formed for meaning.
Peace is an ideology.
I am a lifespan that endures.
I rather be rich than poor.
I am a self-image by the way I live.
Life is only a span of time.
The future is infinite.
I am here as I am now.
Bean people are limited.
Many bridges will be crossed.
Life formed to structure.
Within this medium, my life spans.
I am proclaiming my own.
My niche is well-defined.
I am a self-image refined.
______________________________|
Penned May 29, 2015!
We spoke in images
Our hands our mouth pieces
Oiled by plum brandy
And the certainty
That what I said
You understood,
Or wanted to
Which is all that you have to do
To make an outsider feel welcome.
Ravenous kiss
I feel the electricity
Adding to your toxicity
The “Saga” of the Lonely Cactus
by Miriam McCue
Introduction:
:
Characters in order of appearance:
Lonely Cactus: He is a 6 foot Saguaro cactus with two arms (kind that looks like a man from
a distance.) (In real life these cacti have to be around 75 years old to get an arm.)
Kieran - My granddaughter
Aunt Mikey - My youngest daughter
Alphabet City - Part of the Lower East Side of NYC
Desert - This refers to desert surrounding Phoenix AZ
Manhattan - Name for the island of NYC, not including Brooklyn, Queens, etc.
Super - Nickname for the superintendent of a tenement or apartment building.
Assorted city street characters - Anonymous
Greenwich Village - West of the Lower East Side NYC
Lower East Side - Part of NYC ( name of it describes where it is)
Alphabet City - Part of the Lower East Side of NYC
Assorted city street characters - Anonymous
Central Park - Large man-made park in Center of NYC
Big Apple - Nickname for NYC
U.P.S - A delivery service (In poem pronounced by letters, no as “up sss” )
Casino - We all know what that is.
Donald Trump - Famous prominent business man
my name means flames that crawl down your face and ruin your night
it's when you laugh so hard you break your spine
but then realize you never had one in the first place
it's when you beg God to make an optimist out of a suicidal headcase
it's when you sit and think "what's wrong with me"
it's shades of blue in the minor key.
the color of the sky, the warmth of sun and the way she lovingly lights up
the moon the stars and the clouds,
it reminds me of the sound of chains hitting the ground
the sound of goliath tumbling down,
the way the earth shook as the prison walls gave in.
it reminds me of the beginning.
in any case, it's beautiful.
even Heaven sighs.
my favorite poets: speak not in stanzas but in verses.
they speak in major and minor keys,
requiems concertos and symphonies.
they speak in the secret chord that David played,
and it pleased the Lord.
but you don't really care for music, do you?
you'll often find me searching for a magic pill to cure my sober thoughts,
clinging desperately to a burning makeshift Cross.
you'll often find me sinking into a white pillowcase
but it won't be long until it's covered in stains,
mascara and tears,
expired dreams and growing pains.
you'll often find me with a crackling voice.
i can't find the right words to say anyway,
so let's just talk tomorrow,
though i'm certain the result will look the same.
but anyway,
if you want to find me,
that is where i'll be.
hello my friend, stranger walk by,
borrow a moment, spare me your lie,
through pen of the narrow and mist of an eye,
below absolute zero, someone will die;
sentence to rambler, apple hereby,
flute of the meadow, mandrake will cry,
in front of the riddler second might try,
get out of here mortal,
exit near by-e.
angry as he strike out his pen,
get out of here demon, get out of this den,
in thousands of years how long has it been,
when scriptures wear sandals;
on meadow you land, many bear seasons,
stakes shall bend, lantern still burning,
your letter is send.
Now that I have gotten that over with,
Being straightforward as a piss-ant on fire,
Telling you it just is what it is,
That behind all the frizz,
Is a beardless fake whose heraldic bearings
Are the arms of a sickly snake,
And that all this derogatory self-derision is decisively the result
Of a disease smitten assault by a prodigal bug
Whose virility is known to create sterility of poetic taste-
Oh what a waste to find oneself in such a caste,
Outcast in a landless mire of sea,
Where there is no Sea king to lead back to land,
Where seeking leads not to seeing
But only to being the miserly plot written by this poetasters hand-
Now, to repeat, that I have gotten that over with,
I can really try,
Once and for all,
To really get it over with.
Like really really real.
So here it is,
In medias res,
The big ordeal:
Merde! Merde!
J’ai oublié on this very day,
To have taken my ressurectine,
The nectar which this fool requires with some dismay
To not forget his pointless points.
Where is my medicine Edison?
Where is my pill?
How shall I cart this over the hill?
O’sir,
Dear sir,
For in the middle of this rabid petri dish of sheer excitement,
Close to moiety’s shribble,
With voice shrill,
Ready to take aim and avoid all shame,
I was, I was, I was, I swear
Almost there,
But alas,
I am,
Now out of gas,
With nothing more to gain,
A timid loveless swain,
A witless poet with no further words to amass,
A neutered puppy in a jungle,
Without a rumble,
To stumble upon just the right word,
To close off looking less like a turd,
Then this early morning bird,
Preferably one day,
Could theoretically mumble.
Did I mention that between finding Absolute Knowledge,
And miming Absolute Knowledge,
I would like to find myself snuggly ensconced in the arms,
Of not only Winnie the Pooh,
But surely Yogi Berra too?
sweet sand, embrace me
introduce me to charlie
i long to be lost....