Best Issuing Poems
I let you break the door to my soul,
You savoured the flavour there in
Only you did,
But the broken door gave me pain
I let you, cos of the sweetened words
Issuing forth from your honeyed lips
I let you, cos those words tells of your love for me
And it enchants me,
It sapped me, and pets my stubborn soul
You kissed me passionately
With the girdle of your muscular arm all about me
You cooed words laced with rhythm like strains of Celine into my tender ear
I quiver like a leaf by a flowing river
As I opened the passage to my soul
You entered me, you took me
My painful moan tickles your shaft
You unleashed your manfulness over me
And I felt with all the nerve in my body,
Your shaft stirring the abyss of my hole
You quiver, like you were epileptic
This time, I heard your groan-moan
And a milky fluid from your shaft rained on my navel
Weariness engulfed my whole
I barely could raise a bone
I saw you walking to door,
Hoping a meal would follow your return
I made out of the bed to bath
And await your coming
Alas! My wait was a waste
Categories:
issuing, betrayal, emotions, feelings, lost
Form:
Ballad
Listening to New
Age music
and relaxing late at night
Mellow sounds
remind me
that the time has
come to
put
away
thoughts
on paper
Realizing that
once
you
are
published
You've blown your cover
After inscribing
this ode
I will focus on the
pretty sounds
issuing
forth
from my TV
Let my mental state
become one
of peace
and
soon I will go
to that temporary death
called sleep
Categories:
issuing, music, night,
Form:
Concrete
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by, and
That has made all the difference".
The Road Not Taken. Robert Frost
We deem it normal for babies to cry when they arrive.
Perhaps it's the best indication that they are alive.
But in their minds, it seems they are issuing a protest.
Notwithstanding, it takes only a little bit of loving caress,
and, just like that, newborns succumb to affection and tenderness.
It's as if a baby accepts it by saying, "Now that I am here"....
What if we were just as adjusting when life presents us with the
unexpected? "Now that we are here" would be a calming and mature
manner of course. We will never know the difference our lives would have been or would have made had it gone just as we had planned or how we
had prepared for it to be.
Before now, I had not given much thought to what might be happening at
birth in the minds of the baby, but I believe that there is a God-designed element within us at birth that gives us an untrained instinct or hidden
desire to make adjustments when so required.
Sometimes, when we are drawn into places that are unplanned and unsuitable, or by our own intention, we have every right and a need to
protest and seek an exit. But then, there are times that we of necessity
must bow to the situation and say, "Now that we are here", let's make the best of the circumstance. Let's reevaluate and recalculate. Let's reconsider and recheck the GPS that God has given us.
"Now that we are here", who knows but what God has brought us or allowed us to enter this place, this season, this misfortune, for such a time as this?
Like newborn babies, let us indeed protest this strange turn of events. We
absolutely have been given a will, a uniqueness, and a mind of our very own.
By the same token, we must occasionally turn aside and say, "Now that we are here", what now? Now that we are here, a place we never intended to be or to go, what shall we now do? Does this way lead to my destiny? What new ideas and inspiration await us? I know whereof I speak, and I must say, mine has been quite a ride.
031923PSCtest, Now that we are here. Unseeking Seeker
Categories:
issuing, career, destiny, god,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Urges ushered Est’bel out of her abode –
a cottage cobbled together from cobwebs and clapboard –
and she scuttled forth,
her nesty hair tousled
by a leaf-laced breeze
In her bony hands she clutched
dregs of a nightmeg broth
in a porcelain jar stoppered
by a coffinwood shard
Her bare feet stepped on thorny twigs
but she felt them not,
for her soles had been hardened
by countless treks across hot coals
washed up from stygian shoals
Leftward she turned,
meandering down the narrowing, twisting path,
where uprooted mandrake tendrils
clutched at her anorexic ankles,
while ravens pecked at her frayed follicles,
until she snatched a leaf
from a passing philodendron,
folding it into a tri-cornered hat
and plunking it atop her pate,
rakishly askew
Dewey sap from twisty-trunked trees
dripped onto the nape of her gnarly neck
and a raven on a nearby branch
cawed his amusement,
earning him her owlish scowl
She spied a row of rotting poppies
and plucked a bunch,
sticking them into a crevice of her hat,
then stepped onto a walkway of cracked shale slabs,
which shunned her footprints,
replacing them with snail streaks
to mark her passing
She made her way to a listing tombstone
atop a gnarled knoll encased in gelid moonbeams
and fringed by shushing sawgrass
She took a small vial of indigo glass
from beneath her shabby shawl
and pulled out a stopper made
from a finger bone of an unfaithful lover
whose pickled tongue hung from a
silver chain around her neck
She poured the contents of the vile vial
into the porcelain jar and
listened to the fizz.
It subsided into sloshes,
reminding her of the sounds
issuing from demented shells
snatched from the forlorn shores
of stygian shoals
She gaped at the sky
as an owl flew past the moon,
stirring the dark craters,
which broke up into swirling spirals,
sucking lunar beasts beneath the surface,
where they dissolved in the ceaselessly sliding sands
And Est’bel raised the jar to her lips
and drank a toast to the moon,
and awaited the enshadowed shades
drifting down the snail-slimed pathway,
propelled by a leaf-laced breeze
Categories:
issuing, magic, moon, night, woman,
Form:
Free verse
The sword in my hand
is a pen
Sharp is the dried ink
I electronically send
Like all the mighty men of old,
I’m not afraid to speak the truth
Children of Judah walk like lions,
we stride bold
Idol loving liars beware,
I love hunting your beastly sins
I love catching you in the dark,
then smiting you with my pen
The sword in my hand
is a Goliath-killing pen ...
it’s fire forged
Slinging a smooth, small stone of truth,
I took the big sword
out of my enemy’s hand
Now it’s a giant sword I’m wielding
So I ask, as I approach: are you foe or friend?
Wrong answer will get you cut down,
struck dead by my pen
Truth is a double-edged sword,
its words are sharp
Blessed is he who has the words of God
issuing from their mouth
Faithful is he who holds that sword
resting on the hot coals
Devoted is he who unsheathes this pen,
ready to join the battle
of Good versus evil
Categories:
issuing, poets, religious, spiritual, truth,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Methinks Mine Earlier Rhyme Came Across Desperate...
For Hard Cold Cash
This small medium at large
kibitzer did appear
more brash (albeit) poetically,
and insinuate with soft pedal blare
perhaps at the expense of dare
ring to losing followers, this crash
test dummies star performer
did not mean to ensnare,
perhaps hypnotically tugged
heartstrings with his flair
analogous to birds eye glare
ruffling tail feathers of
a frosty buoy hoar gull (hare
reed) loon seething with hormonal
secretion and the brink to engineer
foolproof mating elaborate fanfare,
when bytes of my obviously clear
expression to succor minted heir
to a fortune (courtesy
anonymous philanthropist), now leer
re: asper point blank plea
for wads of moolah, but mere
lee issuing agitation where
substantial outlay to repair
(passenger side rear)
brake assembly, the automotive
technician espied situation where,
abrasion and erosion clear
as day, which critical assessment
warranted me to declare
an immediate affirmative
decision, which near
broke ma stainless steel piggy bank
to tune of six hundred bucks - hair
reed, an understatement, almost near
lee six months to the day, a prior reap
pair cost similar dollar figure,
which even at present
found yours truly still in despair,
then only to experience,
sans "FAKE" foreseer
(as ordained by Oracle
of Delphi) despite prayer
for me to vouchsafe share
ring at least one daily
compliment to the missus - neh veer
being privy (during our
twenty second plus year)
of whetted bull
lust stick missile exchanges, there
came shortfall of forced favorable blare
ring of said utterenced, thus superstition
an ugly head didst rear.
Categories:
issuing, addiction, culture, green, heaven,
Form:
Bio
American green
The tree of life gave birth to a nation and these men who helped nature
shape it. The father of our Country George Washington the 1st President.
There is Thomas Jefferson author of the Declaration of Independence.
There's ol' Abraham Lincoln issuing the Emancipation Proclamation
he enforced, and Alexander Hamilton the first Secretary of Treasury
and most famous dueler of course. What about Andrew Jackson the Indian
remover and election winner but loser, or Ulysses S. Grant victorious Union
General, boring President. Next is William McKinley Spanish-American War
winner and assassination receiver. Don't forget Grover Cleveland only man to
be elected president, then lose, then get elected again. Our third President
James Madison who fathered our Constitution and a guy named Salmon Chase
but ambition killed him. Last on this list Mr. Woodrow Wilson who brought us into
and out of World War I, that was fun...Do you yet see these men's commonality?
They are the faces of our wealth for they are all money green...
Categories:
issuing, america, money,
Form:
Free verse
In reservoirs, far underground,
where stalagmites are sometimes found.
In lakes and ponds and puddled pools,
in mist and marsh and snow that cools,
I hide beside my sisters.
In issuing springs that sparkle bright,
on stony slopes of shade and light,
to flowing streams that twist and turn,
past meadow banks of grass and fern,
I glide beside my sisters.
In river reach with rippling flow
‘tween rush and reed I always go,
to delta mouths both deep and wide,
which seas contest at every tide,
to glide beside my sisters.
In raging rapids torrents race,
or waterfall’s tumultuous pace,
in storm lashed seas, which crash and break,
on shingle shores that white waves rake,
I ride beside my sisters.
And who am I that rides so free,
who glides and hides so easily;
a mermaid in the salty sea,
a naiad or a white kelpie?
A water nymph you just might see,
me ride, beside my sisters.
Categories:
issuing, fairy, nature, water,
Form:
Quatrain
Lustrous black hangs over pale skin
Gleaming green under deities sight
Wheeling toes transfer lanolin
Watchers skill shadows this neophyte
Who's damning dexterity draws in
The old woman watching weaving
Whispering advice to halt spokes
But fibrous boasts offend mountain
War horns sound an electric warning
Arachne's eyes roll with faster strokes
Athena whets sharp javelin
Circling pressure spills lymphocyte
An emerald eyed grimalkin
Issuing challenge instead of a fight
To save face in front of kin
Anxiously she begins fabricating
Charring wood, wisping smoke
Arachne remembers old sin
Clean fingers start recording
Twenty one episodes to provoke
Woven lust impregnates linen
Details capture birthright
Divine lashes flicker, flecking venin
Mortal legs levitate, threads snap and choke
Defiant victory from the coffin
Punished and reborn with aconite
To appease her guilt for relaxed reign
Arachne is transformed and hanging
Always spinning; a masterstroke
Categories:
issuing, inspirational, old, old,
Form:
Ode
So many emergency numbers to call
covering every situation under the sun
at the end of the telephone line
human helps there making one run
But these humans can't do it all
the spiritual is beyond their reach
only the supreme spiritual can do
that leaves mankind in total breach
This is where God steps in
clearly issuing his words 'call to me'
promising that he will truly answer
with our eyes great mighty things, we'd see
So this is our great God and saviour
the one who always answers his own
being at their side awaiting their call
sending his love from his heavenly phone
God's emergency call number
being Jeremiah treble three
ring it and receive a triple blessing
from the saviour who sets us free
('Call to me and I will answer you and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.')
Jeremiah 33:3 (ESV)
Categories:
issuing, bible, god, spiritual,
Form:
Rhyme
"Hindus" that call themselves,
Regard It as a holy tree
Which alighted from the sky--
Originated from the churning of sea;
One of the fourteen 'Ratnas'
I happened to have a look at,
Which has as its guardians,
A bunch of bearded religiocrat:
Whilst I was nearby it,
I looked at it as I'd at any other grove;
Not even once it occurred to me--
The thought of its sanctity--
I was in a state of emptiness;
I had only come here to enjoy Nature;
This is when I made a move...
...Insensitive to anything but blissful greenery
Prevalent all around,
I made a jump to pluck off a leaf--
Just overhead,
And lo!there were issuing sounds
From the mouth of the sagacious,
And miscalculated words were hurled
For me as a curse...
But what could I do?I stood there,
In an imprudent fashion and kept smiling
At the miserable state of their thoughts:
They abused and mouthed obscenities,
They asked me if I was Indra
Or an inhabitant of Swarga--
The abode of the Holy tree--
I had no answers and no other expressions
Tried to cross my face--
I smiled and looked at them
In a state of serene calmness...
By the by, I took a look at the Parijat,
That Arjuna had summoned to earth;
Then I witnessed the blue heavens
And walked away as another gust of wind
That had rustled the leaves on the Sacred Tree...
Categories:
issuing, religion, satireme,
Form:
Free verse
When issuing Globalist threats
it proves best to shed all regrets
of Dull Care lingering,
still busy fingering
all across those DNA frets.
Categories:
issuing, mystery,
Form:
Limerick
A. W. Nutter
Daughter of Satan and Jezebel
Obeying the wishes of her father
Sent from the fiery depths of hell
Issuing a decree for the Reaper
Reveling in the darkness
A soul, black as the night
Never seeking forgiveness
Announcing death, her delight
From the chalice of fear you sip
As you view this female demon
Incantations spewing from her lips
Summoning the ferryman, Charon
The Reaper suddenly appears
To harvest your evil spirit
Wipe away your foolish tears
Kingdom of hell, yours to inherit
Categories:
issuing, death
Form:
Rhyme
Gikuyu the father of the peoples
Came down from the heavens
Accompanied by a spirit - Nyaga
They came to this realm earth..
The soul Gikuyu and the spirit..
Journeyed from the land of light..
Touching down on the sacred mountain
Kerenyaga - they surveyed the land.. Bururi
It was home to beautiful ridges and valleys
Spoke the spirit Nyaga.. Son this is all yours
Tend the soil its your inheritance..
Surprised for the spirit had been silent..
Silent from the beginning of the journey
Only issuing telepathic communication
Gikuyu turned to where the spirit stood
Now stood the heartbeast - Ostrich
Then the Supreme deity - Mwene nyaga
Addressed gikuyu thus.. Man master the land
The land will offer you life and possessions
From today you are a mortal your immortality
Nonetheless rest in your soul... in your blood
I have bestowed dominion over all..
Whenever you or your descendants are in need
They shall come to the sacred mountain and offer
A sacrifice to the supreme creator Ngai Murungu
You and the spirit Nyaga owe obeyance to Ngai...
The seers in their wisdom say life came from
Water, Earth, Air, Fire and a foreign element
They use the symbol of the ostrich.. Esoteric
They say life- muoyo.. came with Nyaga.. Ostrich
code 254
LKN
Thoome wairegi
King's Counsel
Categories:
issuing, africa, myth, mythology, religious,
Form:
Narrative
About my name.
If only I could have had more input!
But you were so busy reading
"What to Expect" that you
Weren't expecting how much everyone would hate my name!
Rhymes, people, rhymes! Why do you think I was kicking so hard?
About a name.
Shakespeare said a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
Hmm. You could hand me the most beautiful bouquet of roses,
But if you said, "I got these Fart Flowers just for you," I'd be spelling my name for the judge issuing the restraining order.
Changing my name.
Please don't make any suggestions;
We all know how well your first choice went. My closest friends have all put in their two cents:
Chatty, Fatty, Sweet Cheeks, Banana Beak, Mommy, Daddy (no more martinis for my husband) and others not fit to print.
My chosen name.
So many choices: Nobody doesn't like Sara Lee! Or the person formerly known by a loser name!
No. I picked a winner. Sexy. Addictive. Welcome at any party!
Smoking hot, never a cheap date and so good you'll want more in a few hours! HI! I'm Mary Jane!
January 16, 2017
Categories:
issuing, funny, growing up, silly,
Form:
Free verse