Best Keener Poems
2
My head’n’eck will be saved,
it is where everything else exists,
not just my hair, though that's also okay.
3, 4
My arms, right (3) and left (4),
I'll need them for heavy lifting,
and probably some other stuff too.
5, 6
My legs, neither has a keener number,
they love to run
and I love them to run me around.
7
My torso, you have to keep the torso,
I'd look a damn fool
with arms, legs, head’n’eck weirdly joined
without a torso to keep them from arguing.
1
Before I'd even started on things 2 - 7,
I would expect to have saved
a heathen's prayer
to Him/Her/Them,
That which I do not know,
a prayer that I may succeed
in saving things 2 - 7,
so that I might see you again.
14th February 2019
For Seven Things Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
Categories:
keener, love,
Form:
Free verse
I was strolling through Evergreen Cemetery the other day,
Glancing at epitaphs etched upon various stones along the way.
Some flowing verse was out of this world but I can only assume,
That the authors were forthcoming in how they met their doom!
"Should an inconsiderate bird upon my stone alight,
Please do me a favor and remove the blight!"
"Here reposes a dude who tried to rob a lady teller,
But she was a keener shot than this unlucky feller!"
"Here sleeps ace pilot Captain Cletus Cole;
His wings were clipped attempting a barrel roll!"
"Here reclines butcher Clyde who cheated on his wife.
Unknown to him she was also adept at wielding a butcher knife!"
"Here lies Hank his mortal shell riddled with lead.
He was nabbed rustlin' steers and the sheriff shot him dead!"
"Here is deposited the corpus of Eddie a top-notch baker.
He is now serving assorted donuts to his beloved Maker!"
"Please relay your regards as by this way you pass,
But for heavens sake, keep off the cottin' pickin' grass!"
"On a banana peel the dear departed slipped and fell.
We pray he landed in paradise and not in hell!"
"He didn't know his Volkswagen had all that power.
He met his doom head-on doing 90 miles per hour!"
"Fer nigh on 40 years old Hank rode this earthly range;
Now he rides in that final roundup on that heavenly grange!"
"Gambler Jim has left very few friends behind to grieve;
He was caught with a couple of aces up his sleeve!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
keener, death, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Sympathy
BY PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR
I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—
I know what the caged bird feels!
I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting—
I know why he beats his wing!
I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—
I know why the caged bird sings!
Why Do I Write?
You ask me why I sing?
You ask me why I write?
You ask me why I bleed?
What choice have I besides?
I long to fly, to run away
To some safe haven just to play
To see the light of blessed day
And give my longing heart full sway
I want to grasp the star and moon
And live my life; t'will end too soon
And kiss the clouds up in the sky
But here am I, what choice have I?
Why do I sing?
Why do I cry?
Why write of pain
No lullaby?
What choice have I?
I want with zeal to be adored
And I want Fame there at my door
I want IT ALL and so much more
Tell me, is anything for sure?
Why so I beat my wing?
I was born to soar…
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Categories:
keener, bird, life, poems, prison,
Form:
From my mother's womb I yelled into the room,
mattress on the living room floor,
my bro I replaced as the youngest, his face
as he screamed and ran out through the door.
I tell you (no fooling) my years of hard schooling
I'll remember as long as I live
Johnny Cash got it right sometimes you gotta fight
but my name isn't Sue, it is Viv.
My first crush was Joy, she beguiled the boys
with her cool attitude and demeanour,
but in the school yard I didn't try very hard
and lost out to Nigel who was keener.
My senior school was a boy's own affair,
all mortarboards, chalkdust and gowns,
atmosphere never placid, like Hogwarts on acid
at home it took hours to come down.
Exams taken and passed and so onwards at last
out into the big wide world of work,
how well did I do at my first interview
I'm surprised that they'd take on a jerk.
After six years of grammar that felt like the slammer
with no females on a daily basis
this place was Nirvana I tried to keep calmer
in this female infested Oasis.
For a short while I waited then finally dated
the friend of a colleague, named Ruth,
wedding plans from her lips, I took fright and jumped ship
I was too immature, that's the truth.
From there my next job for an extra few bob was in warehousing,
driving fork trucks,
stacks of pallets to lift on horrendous night shifts
but to honest I didn't give a hoot.
I was by then resolving with my problem solving
to find me a niche in I.T,
nine to five, air conditioned, needing no permission
to break for a smoke and a tea.
Nine years flew by me and also my family,
my mother began to be ill
I quit work and stayed home, looked after her alone
watching sadly as she went downhill.
She finally went and as was her intent I care for my youngest today,
these trials we have to bear, no-one said life was fair
but I won't have it any other way.
The good lady's poorly and sometimes I'm sorely
being tested, but I keep good cheer,
the days may seem long but I cannot go wrong-
I've got Poetry, music and beer.
For contest 'where are you from', sponsor Joseph Soper
Categories:
keener, humor, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Sometimes, I find myself on a battleground
in the present or in sieges from the distant past
It may be a war I've been waging within myself,
a thorn that needs plucking so that I might heal
I wear no crown, nor do I wish to be gowned
in regal robes and sit upon a throne looking down
on anyone. For me, those things hold no appeal
I am rebellious against the many wrongs I've seen
and if you think it's mean of me to feel that way—
You don't know me well enough to pass judgement
With regret, I've been the cause of an Angel's weeping
when down a misguided path I chose to walk
Mistakes? I've made my share of them, maybe more
but I've always tried to amend my faults in some way
Indemnity is not always reimbursed with coin
More often than not, my tears the price to pay
Sometimes, even I have not found the sentience of it—
things I do; emotions I feel. No reason as to why except
that I am compelled without restraint or prudence to try
I refute the need to live by the creed of the golden rule—
for only a fool would claim the world is a righteous place
where smug faces play fair in games of love and war
If I am defeated, I never hesitate to stand again
for I've always despised the thought of white flags
and retreating like a coward again and again, in sad refrain
I garner resilience and strength from every enemy I meet
and in defeat, my stratagem sharpens much keener
I am not a warrior; that's not the path I want to take
I've been storm tossed in seas of turbulent weather
When faced with animosity, I will not shiver and quake
Offered silk or suit of armor— I prefer a softer demeanor
Self-professed I am supple of breast
Heart not crafted from leather
From flesh, blood and bone
Of the gender called woman
I was not chiseled from stone
Categories:
keener, how i feel, woman,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Her love is a hot pot of oats
Radiating all the warm colour codes
Fuel for their endless conquests
Homing for her love requests
She lends them her wiser ear
Learns them her fine wear
She imparts her keener senses
To their lesser, commonsense(s)
Go my princess, go and find your toad
Leave breadcrumbs on your chosen road
My spirit will follow your byways
My hope will guide you always
A mother to all of the big five
In the deep end, ever ready to dive
She carried all five on her back
Barefoot, blistered hard as a rock
Categories:
keener, mothers day,
Form:
Rhyme
I heard the owl call my name,
like a backbeat in a child's voice,
etched in shadows of a father's grave,
lonely echoes on a frosted night...
at dawn I'll be immortal again,
renewed by a workaday
and the frigid fiscal year,
my soul stays leafless in damp moonlight...
do we end days defibrillating
in hospice and parchment or
under foreign suns twitching and fluid,
while kestrels dive as doves take flight...
why only in the dark hours,
the soul's midnight,
can we see farther, deeper,
nightdreams wander like a restless wight...
experienced or just imagined,
dreamt but never realized,
conceived yet unexecuted,
an inner eye begs keener sight...
as yellow eyed and dark skinned children,
play with tattered banners,
laughing at rusted armor, bleaching bones,
and history cries that might makes right...
as I, stale pilgrim of no progress,
catch faint odors of war,
in the molded root cellar of my mind,
as hope catches wind like a child's kite.
Categories:
keener, dream, war, , cute,
Form:
Free verse
The Dignity Of It All
Don’t look me in the eye
Don’t look at me and sigh
Or shake your head and wonder why
As I walk along the street
Ensuring our eyes never meet
I frown, and look down at my feet
A mere and simple cleaner
Don’t laugh at my demeanour
Don’t be sad, for there are no keener
No barrister am I
No educated guy
Don’t look me in the eye!
That dirty, menial task
Which for nobody would ask
(Nor do I behind this subtle mask)
I pick your rubbish of the floor
While you hurry through the door
Who am I to ask for more?
But if you gave another look
You’d surely bring yourself to book
For my “lack of pride” you’ve sure mistook
I may clean up all your dregs
But I’m not one who begs
Not while I can stand on my own two legs
Don’t think that it’s a pity
As you travel through the city
Don’t dare question my dignity!
For you see I’m very proud
Of that I’d shout aloud
Above the heads of any crowd
Because, in my mind, I guess
Somebody must clean up your mess
Though it’s me I am no less
An honest person - just like you
Who takes pride in what they do
(Is there a moral in here too?)
Don’t look me in the eye
We just can’t see eye to eye
As I pick up your junk and sigh.
Categories:
keener, appreciation, identity, london, pride,
Form:
Verse
Popular opinion over rules
some may say.
If one could comb through hearts beyond name and number.
The real would reveal
truth yearns to bleed.
Secrets whom cards would never concede.
Hands stay in line with dull color: barren, bland, and broken.
How can one find true color when you attempt to paint in the likeness of them all?
Can't.
You'd know not your city, country or continenet.
Burnt bridges.
Your true self makes a slip to a highly alert audience.
In malice
they long await a slip.
Back pedal your true color.
Time and time again.
Smear, swather and smother.
Smear swather and smother.
Smear swather and smother.
What does it take to confront the inner demons that rob you of self worth?
Courage.
Who holds claim to your existence?
None.
Worst still...
Why do you believe them?
Fear.
Where's the clear water to wash away the mixture you long to depart from?
Inside.
At what point and time does one get fed up?
Today.
Will it take the loss of all of you before you come to grips that you'll need impenetrable grit?
Maybe.
The only true crime you're guilty of is to have an opinion.
How valuable is it to you and what are you willing to lose to uphold it?
Everything.
If it is your make, mind and model.
Best believe it's beyond anything money can buy.
It's worth speaking boldly.
It's worth living in the outskirts.
It's worth being rejected.
Out there in the open...
The stars shine brighter
The creatures sing louder
and the grass is surely greener.
That, my dear friends, is always keener.
Categories:
keener, allegory, anxiety, change, courage,
Form:
Free verse
Oh Sweet Island! Thou tropical paradise:
Miles have I traced upon thy ceaseless reach
Of ocean-choked shorelines owed Heav’nly device
Sheltering I, this marooned guest on thine endless beach.
Safe House against left alone misery;
Whereby, alongside thine evergreen canopies full
Darwinian mysteries perched high atop their home,
Do I maintain nourished in flesh ‘n faculty
And keep this wit sharpened when blunted dull
Should become elements awash reduced but to roam;
Added all, all for sake of thine increased covenance,
That keener my eyes and keener my tongue
When my throat succumbs thine euphoric abundance;
Pink spilled over warmth -
Else-wise myself, by self, selfishly by now would’ve hung;
For if not for that which is thy sun (may thy sun also hear praise)
My sight might yet be withheld those rare flockish friends
Who keep in time the shared sweetness of functioning words;
Therefore to thee, and to they of thee, whom of wing’ed realm I appraise
As reason unsought are frenzied neurotic ends;
True thanks directed thee and thy mystic splendors; thy talking birds.
Alas, sadly, not even thou distills lunar ascensions
By which subside hopeful rays in thy sobering night;
Nor be those which aviate above as homing pigeons
With beaks to carry silent pleas where may come ends to my plight.
Thus, this I ask thee; What good is time spent when time’s spent alone?
Yes, thou provides: plentiful shelter, plentiful warmth, plentiful food
As well as fiery fuel to fend off critters of strife –
But, this be thy kingdom, not mine. Here, I sit on a remembered throne
Where days threaten months threatened by years in which strangers brood –
Oh, Sweet Warden; Relinquish me! I beg thee on behalf of slipping sanity;
Let this rambling sentence end
So I, once again, may stand by my daughter and wife.
1/28/2017
Submitted for: Tropical Island
Categories:
keener, loneliness,
Form:
Ode
Honesty begged an answer
from me it asked impossibility
Forgetting my place within time
I spoke the truth, almost benign
Thunder split the world within
First a crack then a fissure
Old souls cried a sorrowful song
and blood-drenched the lids of eyes
Knowing truth as some may say
is keener than a sharpened blade
Sometimes best to hear a wind
than feel the storm of emotional pain
:: ~ ::
Categories:
keener, poems, poetry, poets,
Form:
Free verse
Ranger joe
He always knows
Which way to go
How much to fight
Or what's too slow
Never quit, never surrender
That's the oath
He'll always remember
Who is too weak,
Or which one is strong
He'll cover down
And won't be wrong
He'll sing along with every creed
He will never miss a beat
Nor a bullet, nor a friend
His heart is strong,
But in the end,
The faster,
The smarter,
The keener,
The wiser,
The hiss of a mortar,
It just won't matter,
Because the good die young,
And the bad live longer,
To spread disease,
To make life harder,
To do more harm than good,
And make the good even better...
Categories:
keener, military, poems, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Success in my hand
The power and the glory
On top of the world
I am invincible; me
The little ones left
by the wayside without care
I take what I want
and to hell with their despair
for my life is mine
and I do not care for them
they raised me up high
and now there's no need of them.
their pitiful cries
as they ask for my help; no
they are beneath me
I'm on top of my game; go
they should work harder
for I have attained it all
their jealous actions
they can't wait to see me fall
And fall I did for...
I discarded my support
there was no one left
to encourage through nought
I was abandoned
and fury; my demeanour
for once I had all
but my loss is now keener
struggling to rise up
cannot bear to look, to start
reclusive I am
the world I knew fell apart
avoiding my life
as I sit in the darkness
squandering choices
hiding from my own smartness
and do nothing but
nothing for that catharsis
depression my friend
the filth it stacks up; a mess
I cannot clean it
the will has left, I have stress
no need to arise
There is no appointment set
lay here, die in shame
for a prouder time frames bet
energised to sloth
I have become the mundane
through lust; greed attained
I kept it all, unshared, vain
And wallow in self
My shame defined - reality
To those I have hurt
discarded and used, malady
I need you all now
If only you'd forgive me
but here I sit; spent
I'm denied all connections
and life passes by alone.
25/10/2018 - Edward Ibeh
Categories:
keener, humanity,
Form:
Choka
Nowhere in the wide world
is death so stunning,
so beautiful as in our
wooded lands-- a plethora
of colors and shades
as dying leaves clutch
desperate to their trees
until they can no more.
Here and there
a Japanese Maple
seems to burst over-
night into volcanic flame,
its leaves dripping the
molten red of lava
as the lowering sun
streaks through
its myriad spires.
And we walk like kings
on thick carpets of gold,
feeling keener of life
by the sharp cool air,
a temp somewhere
between the deep,
deep heat of birth
and desolated
frozen death.
For some of us,
autumn is sadness
personified: presage
of one's finality.
For others, it's a
season of glory,
death's door
adorned.
Categories:
keener, allegory, angst, beauty, celebration,
Form:
Free verse
Has anyone ever seen the fertile Felix Ager,
which the Romans called, " The happy land?
Along the astonishing coastline are found:
the odorous lemon, orange and pine trees
that overlook the limpid and calm Tyrrean sea!
Feel the warmest breeze and breath the freshest air!
I was the boy from Campania, vibrant and restless,
exploring landscapes and valleys...climbing cliffs;
I wasn't born to be a poet, but I became one by the presence of beauty!
Lay down on a lustrous meadow and wait for the breath-taking sunset:
you'll see creation unfolding itself under brush's strokes of the Masters!
How can anyone not be impressed and moved by such a majesty!
I will lead you by hand to all the places you have never seen:
to hills and mounts towered by picturesque towns with fortresses and castles;
Naples,Amalfi,Sorrento,Positano,Ischia,Capri and Gaeta are the jewels of this pristine sea!
Take that long journey with me: you'll be utterly breathless,
and appreciate Nature with a keener understanding and dwell here like others did!
Drink the sparkling water of the purest springs and eat the fruits of my amazing land!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Categories:
keener, art, inspirational, nature, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse