Best Invariably Poems
Who are those funny poets
Be it Jack Ellison or Jan Allison,
their witty pens invariably giggle,
Eileen's passionate words set ablaze
Dave's love lyrics urge us to dance.
While Paul's imagery leaves in awe,
Nette and Andrea trick with riddles,
Linda and Skat the souls of soup,
Carrie's creative brush paints vivid
Frederic lends throbs to emotions
Richard's positivity puts to dance,
Hats off to romantic Tim and Olive
Constance dips her nib in ink of heart.
Judy places at number one to shimmer
Silent one and rob bestow fortunes,
Missed are Carolyn's wise words
and Dr Ram Mehta's brilliant fun writes.
Written Dec 12th, 2015
For contest "Who are those funny poets" by Judy
1st place win
Me....,
a shy ..,
and
bashful guy
always kept me.,
confined to last bench..
down my head,
huddled heart ,
blenched my breathes and
arms always clenched..
Staring with a thief eye
to each one
around me
but confrontation
was not my forte .,
this fragility always
kept me away
from my very interest
and invariably
was a thwart ..
New day in the class,
New teachers and
Classmates too.,
but for me
each day was new
and each one., who?
Newly painted class
curtained each side .,
The Teacher announces
our new class guide...
In actual fact
I wasn't a beauty gaper .,
but this time
she forced me too sharper...
hardly I lavished my time
in any admiration..,
but this would give,
drive to my contemplation..,
breaking the ice to her
difficult and caffeine beauty
eyes were clear and watered ,
lips were glossy and frooty..
Tallest and
her collar in the same way.,
I stared alot but
kept her eye away..
walk like breeze
silent and cool
smile like blooming lily.,
none of her company
can stand by her
she was the perfect dilly..
Crowd would stop
while she starts
mostly buring in vex.,
she wants pin drop silence
in the class .,otherwise,
bitter pills to suspects..
The same rain
I got whole year .,
Whole year
I got ,
teacher will start ,
we all will set ,
and I will get lost .,
The last day of
this beautiful phase
I was loosing carelessly.,
No courage,
No rescue ,
The day cutting readily ..
God miracle or
some boon ,
when she came ,
in her black shoon..,
shrinking and shy
asked me a favour.,
Reaching to the seventh heaven
I started quiver..
Yea....Yea ....
I did it
and then asked my will...
Very courageous.,
honestly it was
to utter such word.,
but......,I knew
It was the
last chance
and never again for
me.....,
such a coward..
So....I did
did it fast.
listening it....,
she got locked.
'No Words'
she said
but I .....,
I did it.
did it.
Yea...,
I do.
by-Shagun
Form:
Cancer, you are an artist
A prolific one at that,
For several dear ones
Have encountered your work.
Your wretched fingers as sculptors
Design imprints of faces unknown.
You smudge white, pain-ridden clay
A little here, a little there,
Till your subject becomes amorphous.
But oh you are not finished!
A red cross encrusted kiln
Invariably cements your doings.
A surgery of crackling and burning,
Until the shape is spit out,
A hard shell lost of all dignity.
Satisfied with your creation,
You give it one last look
Before it rests on an earthly shelf
And another project is begun.
I am sad to say,
You are quite skilled at your craft.
What makes a man a Daddy, let’s give that some thought.
Is it the seed that he donates or maybe some diapers that he bought?
Could it be a video game given, or the latest shiny phone?
Was it when he divorced your mother and left you all alone?
I can’t imagine that a real Daddy could ever abandon his kids.
Isn’t that something that being a good Christian forbids?
Imagine that your children wanted to serve to keep you free.
Would a Daddy kick them out? Think of that family tree.
I believe a Daddy would be there invariably through thick or thin.
No matter what a book might tell him, he would never abandon his kin.
I would give my life for my kids; I would even forfeit my soul.
They will get all that I have, down to my last spoon and bowl.
My children are mine forever, that’s a promise set in stone.
They will forever be welcome, in my unconditional home.
As a Daddy, I’ll show them support, even when I think they’re wrong.
I will never make them feel, like they’re alone, and don’t belong.
In neatly lined up pots in a row
Flaming red and purple balsams in clusters grow
A visual treat to adoring eyes
A haunt frequented by the bees
Do not need much care, but may fade
If not allowed a little shade
Flimsy they are of delicate stems
With light green leaves of serrated hems
Planted in my skilfully laid up yard
They invariably make me glad
Gleaming in the first rays of the sun
By their simple beauty, my heart they won
When the flowers wither, pods appear
In time, for self dissemination, they prepare
When fully ripe, the pods explode
And seeds fly as birdies from their nest to explore!
Thus Nature’s ways are so amazing
Even in plants is an inherent training,
For seeds to leave the comfort of their pods
And find their own space fighting all odds!
___________________________________
June.2.2022
~Placed First~
Purple Flower Poetry Contest
Sponsor – Nayda Ivette Negron Flores
Lost time doesn’t circulate
I was having a hard time finding my light switch in the dark
Colorful, temporary
Grey, permanent
Sore calves and heavy head
Tisses and black shoelaces
I’m 18, and I don’t feel well enough to get up before 2pm
One was too familiar with female anatomy
Shrunken embroidery, spilt detergent
A lisp through the walls
You can feel it now, in the side of your neck
I got 5 hours on Wednesday night
Inability to not do tasks thoroughly
My right eye feels like it’s falling down torwards my left
Ear plugs, melatonin, darkness
How far am I from Earth’s core
Have I corrupted anyone?
It’s still the same but I can control myself
We have a thousand starting points
Everything loses its purity
Everything loses its purity
I don’t water what I’ve already grown
I own acres of land, filled with barely sprouted crop
What is it, if not the individual
Wait for yourself and it won’t go backwards
I’m still here and haven’t gotten much done
I find comfort in discomfort
I will choose to be alone
It’s hard to grasp enthusiasm
I’m angry because I’m foggy headed
Pulse fixation
I don’t think it’s an issue
1,851 on the 17th, 1,740 on the 18th
Fixation on the non-existent or previously existing
Ignorance torwards the currently existing
An ongoing cycle of desire and watered-down hate
Ego, rising and falling
There’s some races you don’t need to restart
Being seen makes me feel vunerable
But I’d rather not direct a world of my own
I dread making decisions
The bad, embarassing thing
Static surrounded shadows
Craved only when reminded
I wish I was a force of some sort
I don’t know if that was part of the reason then, and I don’t know if it is now
It invariably shifted at all hours
There were time slots
Parts of my mind fall asleep so that others can awaken
Form:
Friends are the family we choose to
Rely and count on invariably
In the times we feel low and in need of
Encouragement and bringing forth
New positive energy to propel us to
Distances we dread to cover alone since
Shelter is the invaluable support they provide.
Herein lies the identity of their enemy
Herein lies the description of the abuses
Herein lies the claims against their tyrant
Herein lies the picture of their fixed intolerance
Herein lies their 'no recourse' and plan of action
Herein lie the rhyme and the reason, their right, and their duty
The Americans who led the way, and the people whom they represented, made it very clear that the abuses suffered at the hands of the King of England had become intolerable and the time had come for total separation. No one could have expressed it better than what we now read in in a short portion of the text: ***************************************************************
"But, when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security. Such has been the patient sufferance of these colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former systems of government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute tyranny over these states. To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world." What follows this paragraph is a long list of grievances.
***************************************************************
I counted 18 instances in which the pronoun "HE" was used to initiate an accusation against the King of England. The signers of the declaration left no doubt as to "The Who" of their enemy and "Why" he was so rendered.
In the closing lines of the text, with their backs against the wall and their faces staring in the face of God, it is no wonder that they could say with confidence and faith, "And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor." As we celebrate the 4th of July in 2020, may we, the descendants(Red, Yellow, Black, Brown, and White) of the brave Americans of 1776 think no different and do no less.
062120PS
In tastefully lined up pots in a row,
Multi colored balsams in clusters grow.
A visual treat to adoring eyes,
But never a haunt frequented by bees.
Balsams do not need much care, yet may fade,
If not allowed a little shade.
Flimsy they are of delicate stems,
With light green leaves of serrated hems.
Growing in my neatly laid up yard,
They invariably make me glad.
Gleaming in the first rays of summer sun,
By their simple beauty, my heart they have won.
Unlike the charming red, red rose
Hardly any poet, on them, odes compose
They have no scent, yet as a colorful throng,
In my courtyard, proudly they belong
When the flowers wither, pods appear
In time for self- dissemination, prepare
When fully ripe, the pods explode
And seeds fly as birdies from their nest to explore!
Thus, Nature’s ways are so amazing
Even in plants there's an inherent training
For seeds to leave the comfort of their pods
And find their own space fighting all odds!
When I have a behaviour filled with cruelty,
She kindly holds me in her arms to let me feel guilty,
As if a little goddess appears from heaven, with a smile,
That's my happiest moment, no matter even if it's just for a while,
A blooming flower looks at me which makes me glad,
But I can't realise its beauty for I'm rude and mad,
Yes, when I was there, I enjoyed the glimpse of nature,
And I was invariably fascinated when I saw its creatures,
But a girl like me can never understand its meaning tangible,
So to take the nature's test, I'm afraid I won't be eligible,
So dear nature, I pray you to change me, a hypocrite,
And decide the winner of my fighting two sides
Ever thoughtful and kind, you rejuvenate my days
Making me laugh and smile with your ever shining rays
In truth, you are amazing, so cheerful and so bright
Like a mind-boggling revelation, I can see a new light
I often find myself wondering why we never spoke before
Economics was rather boring, but we found an open door!
Dependently, I discovered one sun inside this darkened place
Invariably I understand that there is good within disgrace
Caught inside the pains of life, your positivity has a power
Kept away from fear and sadness, you sweeten what is sour
I cannot describe in mere words how much I appreciate you
Now I reach into the dark to find something so new
Somehow I will show the world what you have done for me
Onwards into friendship, our light they will surely see
Never forget that you are awesomtastically brilliant, Emilie!
Days until ‘Pride’ fast approaching,
On the phone with mom, she said;
Not to make myself a target by going,
That she doesn’t wish her daughter dead.
Better yet, stay home, she insists,
Everyone that goes is at risk.
As if I should hide who I am inside…
Truly, I understand her warranted concerns,
All the same; the event, for me, isn’t ruined,
Realistically, the fact makes some people spurn,
Gay, perhaps no different, I’m invariably human,
Eventually, everyone will understand and discern,
Then I won’t have to live a suppressing illusion.
Honestly, I didn’t take moment to decide,
Only the one answer buzzed in my ear,
No, I won’t sit by with anxiety and hide,
Especially so, I won’t give my all to this fear,
You can take my life, but you can’t take my pride.
——————
May 4, 2019
Poem Type: Acrostic
From morning to evening if you work hard
Surely peace will flow into your life man
A strange bliss will set in your heart
A feeling of true satisfaction will emerge
Normally sweats will drive away tears
As they do not agree with each other
If we trust sweats, tears will vanish
Its supremacy, sweats will establish
Fools never work and say life is boring
Wise souls toil and reap rich benefits
They have full trust in work's capacity
They believe in the greatness of efforts
Body and mind must work ever together
Great jobs both can render with ease
Due to their synchronized contribution
The owner of them is elevated greatly
True efforts taken with determination
Augmented by hope and firm belief
Will invariably lead to the best end
Life will be glorified and finely honored.
From the moment we became grandparents we have felt conflicted
at the way, in books and media, grandparents are depicted.
But we’ve been grandparents for a while now
(one grandchild just graduated college)
So we believe it is time to share some grand-parental knowledge…
When a cartoonist draws a grandma her hair is invariably in a bun
If she’s not wearing a sweater…chances are she’s knitting one.
When she walks it’s with a cane and we will forever take offense
how she’s always wearing glasses and has no fashion sense
When a cartoonist draws a grandpa he is never very tall
His hair is a vibrant shade of gray or white…if he has any hair at all.
His plaid pants never match his shirt…his glasses are as thick as a window pane
He could be in a wheel chair or like Grandma…walking with a cane.
If you look around at grandparents today, you’ll find us agile and nimble and spry
In fact you’ll discover to your amazement those old stereotypes don’t apply.
Deborah doesn’t wear a muumuu…her hair is never in a bun,
If you ask our grandchildren what they think, they’ll say their Nana’s fun.
She’s creative, she’s compassionate, she’s patient and I can verify
She’s great with babies, loves to bake and sings a soothing lullaby.
As for me, though I am a little bald, I don’t wear plaid pants, never would.
snd if I do say so myself, I make the clothes I wear look good.
I do not fish, don’t watch much TV, I don’t read the Farmer’s Almanac
When my grandchildren ask to play football…guess who’s the quarterback?
Deborah and I will try jumping rope, playing soccer and climbing trees too
because in this day and age, in our generation, that’s what grandparents do!
We are a mix of old and new, we are much cooler and hipper than before
(Even though I’m pretty sure people don’t say cooler or hipper anymore!)
We embrace some of the traits of our grandparents, yes the good ones have survived
but speaking for Deborah and the grandparents I know, a new generation has arrived!
So cartoonists when you draw Deborah draw her with style, grace and fun
And if you’re drawing her baking cupcakes, make sure they’re funky ones.
And when you take your pencils out don’t draw me in a rocking chair
Instead…draw me climbing up a tree or in a top hat
and if you want…
you can add more hair.
Invisible predators steal my soul
taking me to a bowl of stale potato chips
dunking me down beneath the cigarette butts
That were not ever well-hidden in the bottom
Plunking me down firmly with their beady
little hands and their alien eyes. Laughing maniacally
while I thrash around, trying to get free
Then they grab me up having a better idea
And plunk me face down, bound but not gagged,
Which would have been invariably better,
into a smallish bowl of cold, half-eaten oatmeal.
I die ungracefully, and irritated.