Best Irrigated Poems
The rivers rise, released, unrestrained
Reborn of unrepentant rain
Recalling remnants of rimrock gained
Wrecked residences, drifting rafts, remain
Though dawn's rays reveal ruin and regret
Resolve ran through the returning vets
Of robust wars, whose rigors met
The rate the sliding roadblocks set
The ramparts raised, unrestricted
Remorse, redirected and evicted
Replacing rusty banks, constricted
Rebuilt runs regulated, predicted
They'll ride the restored, irrigated plains
Until the red ridges reclaim the range.
3/26/18
Categories:
irrigated, community, endurance, leadership, natural
Form:
Alliteration
Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver
Contest Name 'New Beginnings
20 thousand and more years, then,
We came away from Mars,
Gravity ships with field deflection,
Electromagnetic with the stars.
Come we then amongst the humans,
Tiny short and feeble be,
We were 8 feet tall, us true men,
They might make just 5 foot 3.
Sent to bring them from the darkness,
Bring the light to all who’d see,
To use the mental might a blessing,
See it happen, to make it be.
Rad Arrigo met a maiden,
fine of feature yes was she,
Amber Aqua little maiden,
soon had children, one two three.
Challenged by a Chieftain was the Arrigo,
Changed his mind and let em be,
Mentally taught him love not hate now,
Arrigo willed it, saw it, see…
Perfect were these little women,
Innocent and so coy you see,
Improve the race, life so grim then,
Giants in the land it was to be….
So the crops were started irrigated,
With food came huts and prosperity,
Temples built big blocks migrated,
Mentally cut, sized and shaped by we.
Mind the creator does it all,
Fixed broken bones, so visually,
See it happen walk ye tall,
Mind can fix it, you will see.
Healers learn to use the picture,
See her face just mentally,
See her aorta a bulging,
See it shrink and shrink, heal thee …
Be thou patient with thy learning,
It takes time to get for ye,
Be consistent with your yearning,
Keep the faith and it will be.
Don Johnson
Anti gravity was provided by two electromagnetic fields on board which negated
Gravity of the Earth to free it from the planet using the stepping stones of space and the
attracting gravity magnified of the planets…
Categories:
irrigated, fantasy
Form:
Ballad
intoxicated by entwined souls,
breasts beating, breathing
in the amalgamation of us.
trust in lips, tongues, stress
of otherworldly communication.
neo-occasion of bare skin,
slightly shy, surrendering
to the shift and slide—
sensuality played portentously…
innocence irrigated…
blind.
intoxicated by the itch;
you scratch
my back like a kitten.
my feet and knees
find your warm precipices
of carnal knowledge.
together we learn
there’s an inner universe;
exploration
of mysterious habitation.
in practice, in habit
tingling of dendrites
over and over again.
intoxication’s jealous—
jumps for joy
at your touch…
knows where your headed
north or south…
intoxicated by extremes,
the shudder of sensuality,
shamelessness of dreaming
in your bed, calling only
your name, stamped
with approval— our’s,
story comes to
a climactic conclusion—
Your Welcome.
9/9/2021
“I'' Contest New or Old
Sponsor: Constance La France
Categories:
irrigated, marriage, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
Wisdom's tree could never grow
Unless
It is constantly irrigated
By
The tears of suffering
And
The sweat of toiling!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
26 July 2019
Categories:
irrigated, sorrow, wisdom, work,
Form:
Free verse
UNCONDITIONAL LOVE
Part 1
Of all the different kinds of love.
Some are gentle.
Some are oppressive.
Some come with pre-conditions.
Some come from expectations.
Some come with zesty flavors.
Spices and exotics.
In a secluded corner of an antique mind
time enshrouded locked away in a jailess cell
is unconditional love, a withering shadow,
a remnant exiled and contagious
plagued by insidious expectations
grieving, resolute and alone.
Some try to hide the keys
from the trolls that invade their thoughts
lest the viruses of doubt
penetrate the sanctity of pure intention.
The myth of unconditional love.
Part 2
The loving heart soon decays
amidst the mistaken belief
that there are no conditions
to unconditional love;
there always are.
One must possess a loving heart,
open to all, not segregated and formed
in irksome contemplation.
When one is not loved back,
he/she loses his/her impulsion.
Emotions then become tempered, irrigated
flattened and distributed in a kind,
of non-vested washed out amusement
drying naked tears in a windless environment.
We become the product of our salient beliefs.
That is why the religious profess
God's love as being unconditional
because it is almost non-existent in man.
Unconditional love?
There are always conditions,
some obvious, some hidden,
some obscure in confused enigmas.
CAK 02-16-2013
Categories:
irrigated, emotions, feelings, love, passion,
Form:
Blank verse
Journey To A Sceptred Isle -
Mysterious land's of lavish greenery
Breathtaking view's. Indescribably scenery.
The land and irrigated pastures, ever so fertile
In the midst of the Atlantic, a floating pearl, a magnificent isle.
An island inhabited by the mighty and proud
Siberian winds circulate the lonesome isle. A quintessential shroud
The upper north. Rough highlands and mountains
The lower south. Fine abbeys and fountains.
An island, a speck. Minute and petite
Do not forsake this treasury of power. It's aura emit's mystique.
Follow the beckoning light. Think not of these lands barbarious
Expected the unexpected. A famed nation where men grow victorious.
Clasped the entire world in it's tight fist
It's tongue and culture spread like a soulful mist.
Grasped the lands of their forefathers, with its might
Undeniable power - an empire which exceeded the sky in height
The lands where the chilling winds bite
And the glaring snow, creeps in through the whistling night
Yet the extreme south experiences a Caribbean breeze
In the midst of a humble, everlasting freeze
The lands of inspiration and desire. A cornucopia of hope
A gamble, which only the brave and bold, take and cope.
An open chest of emeralds. A civilized society
What is the price they shall pay, discrimination, and labelled the minority?
The lands great King’s and Queen’s viciously fought
A place wise sage’s and priest’s exhaustively taught.
A place inhabited by the pompous and the scrupulous
However, like all goldmines ; come impurities and the perfidious.
We pay our respect to Haji Naushah Ganj Baksh, now starts the adventure
Farewell Hindustan – land of the Indus. Into the Unknown we venture.
Drawing near and near, to the mysterious lands. Sleep deprived, induced insomnia
Their feet’s touch the fresh grass. Can it be? Mighty Britannia.
-My fathers spiritual, and emotionally crushing journey to set up a new life in the west. dedicated to him.
Categories:
irrigated, allah, courage, father, grandfather,
Form:
Rhyme
The Providentiality of Farming in Giantvillism (Continued)
Jake: Make sure the crop is irrigated Giant.
Giant: That means make sure we provide water to each acre?
Jake: Yes.
Maddy: Would you stay for another two days to help us develop a plan?
Jake: Yes, my plan was to stay at least 8 days to ensure you know all the ends and outs of farming.
Giant: Well, let’s get something to eat and we can begin our discussion, once our dinner is consumed.
*******
Dinner was ingested and discussion therein took place.
An irrigation system would be placed in the southwest of the Village by way of small canals.
The first canal would be built in three days if all goes well.
All the Village would be involved in constructing these dams of blocks mortared and also loosely piled rocks.
Haphazard flooding would happen, but controlled water was more often.
There would be fifty-seven (57) small canals or storage dams completed.
Jake would stay to make sure that the Village people was well-schooled by knowing the blueprint and design.
He would begin his journey home on day nine (9).
_____________________________________________________________|
Written October 14, 2016!
Categories:
irrigated, adventure, appreciation, art, best
Form:
Narrative
Cobblestone Echoes
by Odin Roark
Ancient stone
keeper of darkness
of auras reaped from high seas
vast is your harvest
from earth rumblings beset by molten tears
to charred obsidian made hard
glass reflecting where primates once clamored upon
From paws a running
sniffed calloused drippings in peril
where sandal swathed footsteps
dodged blade and spear
as wash water dumped from high
added slippery footing for predators ever lustful
ever hungry
ever historic
Now the high noon of modern life
the wonder among your melodies
amidst recent fabrications emulating your path
you the wrinkled skin spirit of ancient masons
who served sun-baked feasts
from the past of pasts
Alas…
Genuine micro-canyons of irrigated seed and drift
send the spirits aloft from once grasses high
reminding us that while calendars may crumble
time’s enduring stone of old remains original
transcending the language of vowel and consonant
acknowledging the reach of sentient eye to eye
the whispered caress beneath a Nike sole
sharing the tongues of old
echoing the murmurs of weary travelers
the severed limbs of warriors
the rivers of plasma-red passion
polishing fossils within
within
within
Yet many choose faking Nature’s setting
even making ready counterfeit copies
to pacify the blind living without preference
massaging serpentine monsters of ignorance
whose Gucci laced feet now prance upon this facsimile
sold as make-believe
glittering’s bondage
hidden in fakery
having not a clue of the Carthaginians
or Mediterranean isles of blood and sweat
from whence it all came
For like Rodeo Drive’s cobblestone plazas
where modern celebrity prisons of today
masquerade as credible reality for borrowed tomorrows
knockoff décor identity everlasting
unaware their own history
reaches inevitable fade out
may never know the hidden messages
Perhaps…
The subtle cacophony of shadow and whisper
cobblestone’s enigmatic infernal
made orchestral for those who can hear
those who dare see through the darkness
those who can be moved and touched by
shadowed silence protected with truth
will experience the magic
How few seem to hear the deafening message
Categories:
irrigated, history,
Form:
Free verse
I did see the buoyant bubbles of bliss
fizzing out of my charming muse's smile.
A bubbly butterfly that she is,
was fluttering and whirling around me with verve.
She was so excited to explore the beauty of nature
and capture some thrilling moments as remembrance
for me to string those rosy memories
into pretty festoons of verses and rhymes.
But alas, she went and came back with an ashen face
and harsh rock-hard facts; when hit by those...
causes insufferable pain.
With angst, I deliver this grievous message
about the horrors of extinction inflicted upon Mother Earth
by the very superlative breed of hers with ravenous greed
they feed on everything to suffice their need to succeed.
An empire of dreams they want to build
on grave of ailing nature.
Enchanting hues of dawn and dusk are overshadowed
by hazy clouds of smoke that smothers each breath.
Economic growth thriving on combustion of fossil fuels.
Always caring to reap more than they sow,
countless trees are brutally chopped and their trace effaced
in the name of luxurious development.
Where once they stood with their crowns held high in the sky
and welcoming arms extended for shelter and shade
to so many birds and animals, are now replaced by
concrete towers and skyscrapers.
Bravo, such a triumph for axes, chainsaws and bulldozers!
Succulent fruits and vegetables sweetened with saccharin
and their skin rubbed with wax for sheen.
Plumper they are because of hormone injections.
Soil fertilized by corporate compost
and irrigated with water that is not crystal anymore.
Every drop is infused with wasted toxic chemicals
and surges the stench of disposed garbage
that begets monstrous diseases.
Even the depths of the oceans are not safe
as marine creatures are dying and lying on the shoreline.
Cheers to the sewage that adds to the quality of water!
A paradise that provided us life is pleading for mercy,
to be saved from the hellfire that we are stoking.
Do we really wish to be the curse for such a blessing?
Date: 06/28/2017
Categories:
irrigated, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Come blessed compassion, come,
The glaciers of accumulated wealth to thaw
So
The arid land of the needy to be irrigated
And hope, into their troubled hearts to grow! *
© Demetrios Trifiatis
27 January 2016
* Recent studies show that 1600 people hold
more than 60% of world’s wealth while billions
live in poverty. If compassion existed...!
Categories:
irrigated, money, poverty, world,
Form:
Epigram
For years, the ominous signs were palpable
The deep fraternal mistrust festered and discernable
Propagated by colonial masters to divide and make Rwanda malleable
And left lingering became monstrous and uncontrollable
Snowballing in 1994 into an orgy of murderous hate
As Hutu brothers turned against their Tutsis siblings
For three cruel months respect for human life was obliterated
For three bloody months sanctity of human existence perished
As the government of the day made killing an obligation
And mobilized the population through official propaganda
To destroy all Tutsis and saboteur-Hutus
At the end of the Holocaust over one million Tutsis were sent to the great
beyond
Dreams and hopes were shattered
Loved ones massacred in the most agonizing and cruel manner
While the indifferent international community looked on unconcerned
Just like after the rain comes sunshine
The blood of the martyrs of Rwanda has irrigated and purified
The country of a thousand hills
Which has risen from the ashes of the gory tragedy
To a land flowing with peace and tranquility
To a Haven for tourists and investors
To a land of calm and forward- looking citizens
Committed to work and put their past behind
And queuing behind their charismatic Leader
They cry unceasingly and with one voice
‘’Never again shall bestiality descend in our clime’’
Categories:
irrigated, abuse, anger, conflict, discrimination,
Form:
Free verse
12/28/21
"Dodging Karens"
So easily time is merely wasted
Hidden or in fine print, not always clearly stated
People often irritated
You and your bull leaves me infuriated
Stomach such a serious statement
Every day I'm severely faded
Damage being done, much deteriorated
Disappointed in myself, some of it nearly hated
Meanwhile on a yearly basis
Areas poorly or properly irrigated
Goes for all not just a pessimist
Near and far from any precipice
All this petty s***, has no effectiveness
I shouldn't have to mention it
But go ahead and second guess this quick
Does no good remaining directionless
The same could be said for negligence
While indoor or out among the elements
In a world full of good intentions and deceptiveness
Just a game or serious matter involving counter intelligence
It's of importance or no relevance
Looking at it negatively and with a dark view
Quick to argue
Reaching for firearms too
Little if any regard, their intent is to harm you
Sad that such things are true
When problems arise they give up or march through
It hit home or was sounding strange
Compared to what was there has been astounding change
While far away or within a mountain range
Areas thriving or barren
Running errands
Dodging Karens
Driving like I'm in a McLaren
Flying high as a Great Blue Heron
In and out of a greenhouse
Never give up or just continue to dream about
What you desire, while still having these doubts
I'll give you a three count
For now, I'm going to peace out
Categories:
irrigated, dark, deep, life, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
can a war zone hate in the autumn?
better asked in the spring
life takes on more fecund roles
robins bouncing on the sod
spring peepers drowning out
my dreams
and symphonies of war
germinating in sterile soil
of hatreds and the vibrant world
furrows, like lines in sand,
lie fallow in droughts of compassion
irrigated by greed and ideal
the state, a negligent farmer
the cleric, a dark eyed plowman
and we
the silent few
hang saddened
twisting in a drier wind
stuffed full of straw and tatters
fowling-pieces staked to iron crosses
as crows with crimson eyes
flay the parchment of our skins...
Categories:
irrigated, remember, war,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Bravely young lieutenant standing in the battle field hurtlessly.
He captured their enemies very lightly.
His stylist, romantic war, the shield dazzled to see.
He is fond of war and kissing delightly !!
His shiny hair leap and mould prince of wars luminous.
Once he passed, seeing the valley of roses.
He ponder slightly odourless flowers of roses.
Amazingly, he allured aura inside the valley of roses.
He dreamt that he is in the world of roses.
His heart fluttering and his eyes filled with roses.
The sudden fragrance pouring with gems festival rollick.
But the veiling Rose disappered with ivory smiles.
His shying dawn bring coloring lunar reflect his love.
Rosy thorns narrating the gregarious story of loveth.
His rose-world sprouted rootlessly and moths kissing rosy-cheeks.
He seek flower's bazaars also rose wreath.
He sculptured the statue of rose express his love.
Her eyelids feared, roses winging for flowery love.
His rose-blood beloved rose-girl and forgets the bloody war.
He feels like nestling, rose nest covered by love.
The beautiful love period perfumed, the white roses flare as of love-lyre.
He lisped love-language to the fairy rosing.
His enemies pursued and watching his actions in hidden.
In a night of rain he sung songs of love, roses floating !
His enemies played their sword at his rose-fairy.
At most joy, her heart fell, gushing rose-petal.
Rose petals mixed his blood and irrigated the valley or rose.
One who see this valley, roses sprout the odour of love natural !!
Categories:
irrigated, inspirational, love, sad, heart,
Form:
Ballad
The Braille of Cobblestone
Keeper of darkness,
of auras reaped from high seas,
vast is your harvest
of earth rumblings beset by molten tears
to charred obsidian made hard glass.
Such reflects primate-memory
once clamored upon by man and beast running,
dodging blade and spear
as wash water dumped from windows high
added slippery footing for predators ever lustful,
ever hungry,
ever historic.
At the high noon of one’s life,
we wonder among your melodies
amidst recent fabrications lining your path.
you the wrinkled skin of ancient masons
serve sunbaked feasts
from the past of pasts.
Your micro-canyons of irrigated seed and drift
send spirits aloft from grasses high,
reminding us that while calendars may crumble,
your stone of old remains young,
transcending the language of vowel and consonant,
acknowledging the touch of phantom eye to eye,
even whispered touches beneath a Nike sole
speaking the tongues of old,
echoing the murmurs of felled travelers,
the severed limbs of warriors,
the rivers of passion red,
polishing fossils within.
Still…
Others would fake Nature's setting,
even make ready counterfeit copies
to pacify the blind living without preference.
Such serpentine monsters of ignorance
whose Gucci laced feet now prance upon your offspring
sold into bondage, interspersed among the fakery
having not a clue of the Carthaginians
or Mediterranean isles of oar-navigated ports.
For like Rodeo Drive's cobblestone plazas,
where modern slavery prisons of today
masquerade as knockoffs once authentic for tomorrow,
your history is reaching fade out,
sans your hidden messages,
your quiet cacophony of silence
made orchestral for those who can hear,
those who dare see through the darkness,
those who can be moved and touched by
the brail of cobblestone.
Categories:
irrigated, change, history,
Form:
Free verse