Best Juxtaposing Poems
Birds of paradise bloom and fall like a shooting star,
Red ones are juxtaposing lips when wrens are kissing;
Brilliantly gliding from huge foliage seen from afar.
They marvelously stand and hung on where they are,
In kaleidoscope of colors, they’re all glistening;
Birds of paradise bloom and fall like a shooting star.
Their lasting freshness is a blessing from the altar
In orange, yellow, red and purple- they’re all amazing;
Brilliantly gliding from huge foliage seen from afar.
Their dazzling beauty is the sweetest song that soothes my scar
In its various colors, red with yellow is the best hymn I’ll sing
Birds of paradise bloom and fall like a shooting star.
Ambling along an avenue of those flowers quite so far
As if leading into the vista of paradise –the most wonderful feeling
Brilliantly gliding from huge foliage seen from afar.
Bestowing its enchantment to someone may ward off war
Red gears for a blazing love , yellow for unwavering spirit of sharing
Birds of paradise bloom and fall like a shooting star
Brilliantly gliding from huge foliage seen from afar.
June 30, 2013 10.40pm
©2013by Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Fourth Place
Contest: Good Poems
Judged: 8/8/2013
Sponsor: Great Poet, Nathan A
Categories:
juxtaposing, flower,
Form:
Villanelle
A poet touched my heart last night, he wrote of deprivation
Of child abuse, starvation's plight, the heartaches of a nation.
This juxtaposing universe so vividly portrayed
Has made me feel discomfort by the message it conveyed.
At liberty in mind and soul and body I am found
But on this self-same spinning globe such miseries abound.
Lord help me to appreciate each blessing you provide
And may I show benevolence with your love as my guide.
11/08/18
Categories:
juxtaposing, africa, heartbreak, people,
Form:
Rhyme
The world spins kaleidoscopic, a whorl of color in revolt.
Oceans quake malleable, molding into fissures of tectonic hunger,
ravaging the deep, stirring the primal need depressing
populations’ unseen to the denizens of land, disregarded in man’s wake.
From the diatom, to the whale, from the single cell to the open hand
from the sun, to the stars, to the mushroom bomb, we’ve light.
Within the orb of eye, retinal flares of light,
an inside-out, upside-down, yin and yang revolution
juxtaposing wealth with poverty, as throngs rise asking for hand
outs, aching with a human need to know, hungering.
Childhood has ended, the tell-tale snake does wake.
Death’s rattle will subside, as the head eats the tail of depression.
Communication will become the global antidepressant.
Natives in aboriginal huts and Inuit in igloos will see the light.
There will be no holding back the tide for hand in hand, each cell wakes.
No longer can knowledge be withheld. “Phone home,” a revolutionary
cry, the tit will not be ripped from the lips of hungering
humanity, the tyrant and the saint juxtaposed, their time at hand.
Instant communication, shall scrape the barnacles of blight handily.
The stroke of finger tip to key shall depress
and ignorance will flee, freeing the hungry
for the way out ,the way up, the key, light-heartedly
heads bowed in prayer, we shall revolt.
Let tyranny be eaten, and righteousness wake.
On the egg of earth, we float in celestial wakes.
Solar tides stir the shards of glass raising death’s hand.
Round and round the top spins each revolution
forced by the pumping thump of rods depressed
rods magnetized and charged with lightening
for we all hunger.
Each evolution a revolution, each thirst quenched brings new hunger.
Repression will never depress the desire to wake,
nor, will the fisted hand ever bring the light.
Categories:
juxtaposing, allegory, childhood, computer-internet, history,
Form:
Sestina
The Wakening World
A new world spins kaleidoscopic, a whorl of color in revolt.
Oceans quake, molding into fissures of tectonic hunger,
ravaging the deep, stirring the primal need depressing
populations unseen to the denizens of land, left in man’s wake.
From diatom, to whale, from single cell, to open hand
from sun, to star, to mushroom bomb, we have light.
Within the orb of eye, retinal flares of light
an inside-out, upside-down, yin and yang revolution;
juxtaposing wealth with poverty, throngs rise asking for hand-
outs, aching with a human need to know, hungering.
Childhood ends as the predestined ouroboros wakes.
Death’s rattle subsides, as head eats the tail of depression.
Communication becomes the global antidepressant.
Aborigines in Australian huts and Inuit in igloos see the light.
There will be no holding back the tide, for hand in hand, cells wake.
No longer can knowledge be held. “Phone home,” a revolutionary
cry, the breast will not be ripped from the lips of hungering
humanity, tyrant and saint will be juxtaposed, their time at hand.
Instant contact scrapes the barnacles of blight handily.
The stroke of fingertip to keyboard or keypad depressed
sends ignorance fleeing, freeing the knowledge hungry;
showing the way out, the way up, the key. Light-heartedly
heads bow in prayer, the we will rock you will revolt.
Let tyranny be eaten, and righteousness wake.
On the egg of earth, we float in celestial wakes.
Solar tides stir the shards of glass raising death’s hand.
Round and round the top spins each revolution
forced by the pumping thump of nuclear rods depressed,
rods magnetized or charged with lightening
will energize the populous for we all hunger.
Evolution brings revolution, each thirst quenched brings new hunger.
Repression will never depress the desire to wake,
nor, will the fisted hand ever bring the light.
Categories:
juxtaposing, devotion, education, hope, mystery,
Form:
Sestina
juxtaposing
melancholy and beauty
one eye observes the abyss
the other
the allure of the moon
Categories:
juxtaposing, beauty, moon,
Form:
Prose
The natural history of some has never been written, We’re but a stream whose source is hidden
The most exact calculator has no prescience,
Our being is descending into us from we know not whence.
I’m many a times moody and wildly wise,
pursuing daring games with joyful eyes,
which chose, like meteors, their way
And rived the dark with private ray:
I am owner of my private atmosphere,
of the ample tears shed in a year,
of pupil’s hand, and oracle’s brain,
of Lord Christ heart, and prophet’s strain.
I am one found overleapting the horizon’s edge,
searching with host’s privilege;
through man, woman, sea, and star,
Glancing the dance of nature forward far;
Through demensions, races, terms, and times,
Beholding melodical order, and juxtaposing rhymes.
I’m one treading fountain-heads and pathless groves,
Spaces which pale passion loves,
Starlight walks, when all the fowls
Are safely sheltered, save bats and owls,
A midnight bell, a passing groan,
Such are the sounds I feed upon.
Categories:
juxtaposing, imagination, life, nature, philosophy,
Form:
Lyric
Avalanche
Avalanched blizzards' cold dustings
envelope:
forests, gulleys, hillsides--
intentionally juxtaposing life...
making necrose obstacles
painstakingly quiver,
releasing Snow!
Tons!
Ubiquitous vagabond-wielding
Xenophobics'... Yielding Zone!
©deborah burch
3/27/2012
Categories:
juxtaposing, adventure, natural disasters, nature,
Form:
ABC
Actual aptitude and action almost always align aright.
Beautiful bliss, beastly belligerent behaviors: both burn bright.
Caringly convinced, cantankerous curmudgeons collapse, contrite.
Disdaining darkness, devoted disciples dig deep, discover delight.
Erudite, eager efforts encourage, energize, even excite.
For faithful few, fortitude, ferocious fight favors failed, feeble flight.
Gesticulating graders generate ghastly groans grinding graphite.
Happily, Horton has highly honed hearing; howler has humble height.
Invite ideas, ignite ingenuity, illumine insight.
Jaundiced jackboot juxtaposing "justice", jubilation: Jacobite.
Kindly koala kid keeps knitting knotted kaleidoscopic kites.
Levity lifts languishing leanings, leaves listeners luminous, light.
Mellifluously mild merriment mellows mad, malevolent might.
----------
Lol, this is an abecedarian monorhyme of alliterative monokus.
Not sure I'll get to the second half
Categories:
juxtaposing, silly,
Form:
Monoku
Sometimes I wake, at least believing I have,
but find that I'm wandering about,
perhaps dreaming while walking in a mist,
through empty halls where moonlight
doesn't stream through windows on walls.
I'm alone in lush jungles of canopied forests,
and bathing in pools behind waterfalls.
It's a strange realm of a juxtaposing existence
where my words and thoughts mingle,
trying to blend like slow-running river currents,
flowing into roiling tides of ocean waves.
It's the place where lost love lingers
and grief echoes its mourning call
trying in vain to heal in silence
and sobs are stifled throes of sorrow
as their cries are only heard by me
as they ricochet through my mind's tunnels.
In my poetry these corridors exist—
these hollow spaces and empty places
I create in journeys between sadness and joy,
hope and heartbreak,
life and death
and where with each breath I take
holds gasping ghosts of lost loves
as they hover, unheard but felt in the ruins
of what once was a lamplit rendezvous lieu,
now withered and cold, a cavern of darkness.
There's stark sadness some would label madness
found in dreams that leave my body and soul
aching and craving to come awake.
Whether I wander in a blossoming garden
in these reveries, remembering candlelight nights
of passionate kisses within love's arms—
they're only a worn tapestry of broken threads
from the many textured fabrics of my life.
Some became tangled and some unraveled,
others frayed and were pulled apart
that had to be stitched in the wounded places
with a patchwork of bloodied cloths to cover
the scars that form crossroads across my heart.
More often the dreams that find me in slumber
now take me to happier places where smiling faces
surround me and ease the pains I've borne.
Though time in those spaces flows too quickly,
like grains of hourglass sands sifting and shifting
like dunes formed by errant Zepher winds.
Now, as I walk in the warmth of sunlight's rays,
erased are the hovering ghostly shadows.
From those ruins where life was lived, I'm drifting
past the perished caverns from my yesteryears.
Categories:
juxtaposing, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
A fabrication forged by fear
A fading message held so near
“Thou shalt not become inclined
To undermine the truth inside”
Settling the dark below
Juxtaposing with my soul
Frustration and a pain unknown
Too terrified of letting go
Encumbering to see the signs
Unable to finally make the climb
A destination never planned
Is burying me in its sand
A fealty born not of love
Afraid to ever push and be shoved
“Thou shalt never raise thy voice”
This silence giving me no choice
Breaking through the great below
The contradicting, burning soul
Reconfiguring its truth
It must find its love, and find the proof
The weight of letting go of all
Within there stands a mountain tall
A destination never planned
Will place the map in to my hand
Categories:
juxtaposing, solitude,
Form:
Lyric
He stood still~
Eyes travel faster than a lightyear;
The many battles fought~
Still fresh in his mind~
The brilliance of his golden helmet
never fades~
Like the tenacity of his conviction
to fight and never surrender.
The man wearing the golden helmet
Must be also wearing a golden heart;
He must be a sweet husband
to his beloved..
and a protective father
to his only daughter..
He must be my father.
01.10.2021
Notes: (Credits to - © 1st-Art-Gallery.com 2003 - 2021 - All Rights Reserved)
The Man in this enduring canvas titled Man in a Golden Helmet by Rembrandt and dated 1650, is a particularly captivating and meditative rendering of a time-worn face beneath a majestic, almost juxtaposing, helmet. The contrast illuminates the painting with a profoundly moving sense of time having passed, at once both sentimental and sentient. Admired by the Impressionists and portrait artists throughout the centuries.
Categories:
juxtaposing, appreciation, art,
Form:
Ekphrasis
Winter tested my endurance with its sharp and burning cold and now the warm lavender evening, with its smells and sounds of spring seem like a gift. The breeze is warm, and even the broad zones of shadow contain an inviting warmth. The campus lamps should ignite soon but groups of students are milling, talking and laughing as if no one wants to let go of the day.
As Lisa enters the courtyard the campus lights flicker to life. As she approaches, she lets her book bag slide off her shoulder. Catching it by its strap a millisecond before it hits the ground as she reaches me - without looking - like a practiced trick.
Taking my hand in hers, she asks, head tilted slightly to see my eyes, “How’d the test go?”
I’m the first one in our squad to take a final - most are next week. “Cinchy,” I say with a grin and a flick of my free wrist, “not comprehensive - it just covered the last section.”
“Yea,” she says, “look at you go!” A warm breeze wells to obscure her face with her flaxen, cornsilk hair. She lets her bag fall the last inch, and ponytails it, two-handed, with smooth, practiced ease.
Finals existed, like ancient, cultural crucibles, long before our time, but these are ours, as if they’ve always been waiting - just for us.
Yale is still new to us, but we talk, juxtaposing experiences, challenging and comforting each other, even though we’re on slightly different paths. It seems that everyone is pumped up though, a little stressed maybe, but more than ready to hit it.
Categories:
juxtaposing, friendship, humor, school, student,
Form:
Free verse
Prescribed blood tests
present no qualms,
unlikely nothing askew i.e.
ticking time bombs
nor prone to catastrophization,
albeit anticipatory anxiety
plus demeanor of poetically titled
medical practitioner allays, calms
alleviates agitation exhibited
by dad's and/or mom's
panic minimizes si? no sweaty palms,
nonetheless precautionary measure taken
thumbing apostle Matthew psalms
ayee feel grateful relatively
clean bill of health.
Nine thirty morning
appointment earlier today
September tenth two
thousand nineteen no way
found yours truly bright
tailed, and bush shay
eyed, cuz mine circadian rhythm
(reed sleepiness), I cannot betray,
yet medical plight concerning
bowel movement analogous to clay
stool pigeons ever ray
now and again plague me: hay
4 four at aye
oh elle dot com, alias math they
you scott harris happy as jay
bird for personable rapport
she, said practitioner did display
offering friendly feedback
proactive measures to avoid
finding mine psyche
analogously scrambled (think) souffle
even absent such agreeable
pharmacological medications keep at bay
panic stricken state
seeding additional gray
hairs (matter of fact
synthesized prescription -
pills selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors)
only necessitate small copay
Medicare bonafide dogsend
whereby nurse practitioner equal
however much she doth weigh,
in salt, though an oft worn cliché
feather in her cap coup d'état
personable, laudable, hospitable...
winning accolades regarding
humbleness and modest stay
expertise within her craft hoop fillet
staving off general mills concerns
reason I wrote rhyme, eh somewhat passé
even Mister Ed would neigh say
so with his horse sense to stirrup
unbridled jollity - me hoof finds rein
ching words cathartic je ne sais quois
experimenting with this, that,
or t'other typed out array,
perhaps hashtagged as tripe courtesy quay
zee poor ah shunned poet fray
ming tropes distinguished (ha)
even if garnering no pay
English language I play
juxtaposing incongruities
to tease out reactions probably lay
build rickety lettered edifices
manuscripts best sentenced to sauté
within steaming vat
fed as swill to petsmart hogs
grunting as they fertilize mulch greenway.
Categories:
juxtaposing, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
What The Bleeping Bleepers?
What the bleeping bleepers
what the blankety blanks
what the freaking freaks
what the hellish hells
what the palish pales
what the fracking fracks
what the ducking ducks
what the bucking bucks
what the tucking tucks
what the plucking plucks
what the glucking glucks
what the mucking mucks
what the Kanting Kants
what the geezing geezers
what the retching retches
what the wanting wants
what the tarnating tarnations
what the condemning condemnations
what the murdering murders
what the hating haters
what the loving lovers
what the juxtaposing juxtapositions
what the perceptionalizing perceptions
what the darnating darnations
what the reaping reapers
what the creeping creepers
what the streaking streaks
what the leaking leaks
what the what is happening in today's society
what the what are our solutions in order to fix this world
Categories:
juxtaposing, fun, funny, giggle, hilarious,
Form:
Free verse
By her tongue, honey gold,
Tipped with steel lashes;
Eyes behold with narrowed ire,
Stinging welts; and crashes
Through the barrier of skin,
The naked perimeter fence,
A culture clashes in some
Past or present tense.
Substituting words to heal
With jackal-lipped unkindness,
Juxtaposing dark for light,
My love accepted blindness
At each and every stroke,
By her tongue, poison black;
I forgive and kiss her lips
For all the times she took it back.
Categories:
juxtaposing, forgiveness, life, love, mystery,
Form:
Verse