Best Land(A) Poems


Premium Member A Nook and a Storybook

What I wouldn't give most days
to run from the world and just hide
in a corner nook, with a storybook.
I'd immerse myself and time I'd bide

A foreign land, a new romance.
Swept away by the written page.
Where love is forever, happiness reigns
and every heroine's passions rage.

Life can be repetitive, numb,
but immersed in stories everything's new.
The best escapism is by far
found in a good book, this is true.

When day is done and time my own
I'll curl up in that corner nook
and let myself be taken away
inside the pages of a storybook.



22/04/2016
Categories: land(a), books,
Form: Quatrain

A Sculpture of Shadows and Lines

She is in her bed,
lights filtering through crown glass,
shadows and curved lines
playing with her nudity,
an old erotic sculpture.

Shadows and curved lines-
they know how to play with her,
where to land a kiss
where to give a paint-brush touch
how to caress silky curves.

Each line tells her tale
each curve longs for more caress,
shadows crowned by lines
perfect Michelangelo,
a sculpture of light and shade.


© kash poet
============================
© Kash Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: land(a), imagination, romance
Form: Tanka

Premium Member Eve Will Remain With Adam -Chris D A

A DINNER INVESTMENT (for Eve)

My husband Chris Adams loves to wine and dine my needs
In the most expensive places, one can eat.

Arriving in LIMO style
A humble waiter greets
After I viewed the menu I replied, 
"Hun I am ready to order."
A T-bone steak -- fully cook the meat.

At our table, walked a gorgeous snake-eyed women
She leaned over my husband's seat
Approaching Chris with a big wet kiss
I stomped on my husband's foot
I gave him  the look, of all looks
She slithered with her tongue in Adams ear 
She whispers 
 "Go to that hotel and relax, I need some cash"
With one stare I yelled, "Chris how dare you cheat!"
"I had enough, I want a divorce MR. ADAMS!"
I reach over to slap him,  
He replies, "She is my mistress Bath-Sheba my dear EVE!"
"I do not love her."
"I understand if you want a divorce!" Mr. Adams replied.
"But, remember, no more furs, luxury suite, 
 Winters in Barbados,
 Summers in Tuscany."
"Infinity or Lexus, and first class plane seats."
"Forget about the Yacht Club."
"Party by the swimming pool, that land a hundred feet."
"It is up to you my Kitty Skat Eve to give it all up."
"You decide if these diamonds you want to keep."

Without thinking of taking a leap.
I saw Mr. Adams business partner Cain with a Jezebel in his arms.
I ask my husband Chris in a small peep. 
"Do not tell me that Cain commits Adultery too?"
"Cain's blonde looks really cheap as if she works the street."
"Well, our mistress is prettier and looks real sweet."
"Honey, our mistress Bath-Sheba is worth the keep."
"Mr. Adams tonight you can call me Steve and not Eve,
 Whatever it takes to satisfy your needs plus my gold lust!"
**************************************

(The moral of the story is what some Eve's  
will do to keep their investment, I mean Adam's.) 
A joke and dedication to  Chris D. Aechtner 
For THE Eve in Eden* (Contest) *
© Skat A   Create an image from this poem.
Categories: land(a), addiction, anniversary, art, betrayal,
Form: Narrative

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Return To Wagon Wheel

The clouds have formed a mare’s tail in the sky,
a fitting image, for I’m being led
beneath them, where in eerie silence lie
abandoned stalls, untended land, a shed.

And on a gate, like some strange souvenir,
a halfway broken sign reads “Wagon Wheel.”
That horses once were bred and ridden here
both grime and span of time cannot conceal.

But farther down a lane, behind some trees,
(where happiness once lived!) awaits my spring -
a large house, shuttered, with its memories.
In front of it still hangs that wooden swing.

Above long grass and weeds it starts to sway.
The ghost of me has now returned to play.


For the Love and Loss Poetry Contest
Categories: land(a), loss,
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member With Enchanting Winds, Her Pledged Guarding Hosts

With Enchanting Winds, Her Pledged Guarding Hosts


In yonder land a princess lives,
With gentle winds her guarding host;
Suitors gaze as her beauty gives
Her sweet elegance, all the toast!

Yon dark castle, Dread lays in wait,
Its black anger, hating her charms;
Vows he, her enslavement tis Fate
Tho' it be by great force of arms!

For her kind heart it wants to bleed;
Savage her and sate its evil,
Yet Fate, grants mercy to her need
destroys this monster primeval!

In yonder land a princess lives,
With gentle winds her guarding host;
Suitors gaze as her beauty gives
Her sweet elegance, all the toast!

Robert J. Lindley, 2-19-2017
Poetry form,
Lin Crazy Eights, Tail-Rhyme , 100 words


Syllables Per Line: 8 8 8 8 0 8 8 8 8 0 8 8 8 8 0 8 8 8 8
Total # Syllables: 128
Total # Words: 100
Categories: land(a), art, creation, princess, repetition,
Form: Rhyme

Slip of the Tongue

I was a city born and city bred young fellow,
whose shoes had mostly only touched concrete and tar.
Oh yes I had seen grass, but out on a footy ground
and my entertainment was drinking at a nightclub bar.

As a city bred young bloke I had never seen the stars 
for blanket smog and neon lights had blocked them out.
I never knew what clean air was, nor really cared at all,
and rain was just a nuisance that I could do without.

I had no idea where food comes from - why should I?
I just hand across ten dollars, and bingo! In my hand,
is warm and crispy chicken with leaves I throw away,
and chocolate milk comes in a carton with a brand.

But I’m informed one morning, this is not the case.
Milk, like cheese and butter, and yoghurt too somehow,
comes to the city from the country, for us city folk. 
And I didn’t quite believe - from the inside of a cow.

A cow! I’ve never seen a cow. What’s a cow look like?
That’s right! I admit I’d not seen a cow in all me life.
I barely knew the difference, between a cow and a pig,
until in a nightclub - that’s where I met me future wife.

Jean is a lovely girl; so pretty, and near rural to the core.
She knows every breed of cow that is written in the book.
Jean has milked them, immunised, dehorned them in a crush,
so she’s quite strong in the arm and can land a great left hook.

I’m talking of me own experience; me jaw is still quite sore.
The lesson that I learnt is to choose words more carefully.
I’m not sure if the listeners sed at what I had said,
or were pleased to see an enraged woman acting like a bully.

Since we had married in the city, and lived in a city flat,
me darling Jean for many months suggested time and time again,
we should go back to her hometown where Jean promised me,
that I will finally see a cow and Jean won’t have to explain.

Now I’ve seen Friesians, Jerseys, Guernsey’s, Ayrshire’s;
I’ve eyed Poddy Calves, yearling Heifers, Bulls and Steers.
I’ve become an expert on cows, and just what is required.
I know everything that’s needed about cows so it appears.
 
But when lecturing colleagues with Jean close by me side,
it became the catalytic weapon to cause a murderous scene, 
for I proudly uttered loudly without consequential fears,
that I had never seen a cow until - I met my wife Jean.
Categories: land(a), humor,
Form: Rhyme


The Penguin - Long Version

THE PENGUIN

Way down south on a continent frozen
The penguin a tough life has chosen
Though you’d think he’d be coy
Like a super-cool playboy
You’ll find him out preening and posin’

With movement on foot unexciting
He shuffles along then goes sliding
Though on land a slow coach
In depart or approach
In the water he goes like greased lightning

He’s a little short in the leg
Dressed bespoke (can’t wear off-the-peg)
Hand it to this ice capper
He always looks dapper
Even when he is hatching an egg

So the penguin’s no slouch, he’s a winner
By sartorial standards no sinner
He’ll emerge in a trice 
From the Antarctic ice
Already dressed for dinner
Categories: land(a), animal,
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Autumn Reflections

Crisp, fresh air breathes a caress over my frame
Filling me with inspiration for the season aflame

With vibrant and bold hues of crimson and gold
Musical whispers, both brilliant and uncontrolled

Dancing, vibrating with life, the leaves come down
Soundless and gentle as a soft kiss silencing a frown

Echoes of serenity trembling across the forest floor
Leaves twirling joyfully with a yearning to explore

Miracles radiate from the soothing touch of the sun
Amid naked limbs where leaves wouldn’t be outdone

Breaking away from the sighs of softly falling leaves
The caress of moonbeams trail a prayer that believes

Rich, warming shades from God’s stunning paint brush
Hesitate to reveal the compassion that ignites a blush

Joy follows the ripples of autumn’s haunting heartbeat
Praising the thought of One who does forever complete

Shimmering summer sun falls silently beneath the fall
Who has come to enlighten spirits before the snowfall

His decorative touch has given the land a second chance
To be filled with enthusiasm and mystery at first glance

Giving thanks for all He has provided; hope, faith and love
Gifts and treasures shining on us, sent from heaven above
Categories: land(a), appreciation, autumn, faith, inspiration,
Form: Couplet

South of the United States Border

South Of The (United States) Border...
(Reigns A Welter Of Disorder)

Caravans comprising multitudinous
     peoples plodded a steady course
analogous to iron filings drawn by
     strong magnetic force
gravitational pull generated

     by North America
     an irresistible source,
which tug felt
     nearly all the way round
     webbed wide world beckoning

     for waves of humanity
figuratively donned as spawning fish,
toward which currently dimming
     beacon of democracy flickr
     Trump might extinguish

though tis quite heart
     breaking to experience
vicariously as one collective soul,
     these desperate folks
ambitious to seek asylum,

     (and eventual citizenship),
     while this "FAKE" president
     invents many a...holy SMOKES
outrageous, nefarious, and malicious
     dagger o type cruel barbed wire

accusing, condemning, and emasculating,
     (I could continue),
     but ye dear reader would tire
unless individuals 
     affected by xenophobia

     countenance same stance
     as Commander in Chief,
     or contrariwise some
     like minded 
     thinkers, rack coon sitter
the migrant situation dire,

     would effectively serve me
     as preaching to
     the Unitarian choir,
yet any sensate 
     person must admit
tis quite upsetting, lamenting,

     and agonizing to witness
     hordes of persons treated like
     some pestilential 
     eyesore dagnabbit,
yes this chap can
     endlessly spout flibbertigibbet,

though thee crux of my opinion,
     inspires a poem express
     sing supportive emotions
     particularly acknowledging,
     how these masses (thousands)

     of vulnerable individuals
show true grit,
nonetheless yours truly,
     would be hard pressed
     for an immediate

     humane solution to corral
this extensive kit
and caboodle, though this generic guy
with a poetic knack
shakes his noggin

watching armed flack
delivered from border patrol agents/
United States military, lack
restraint, and who outright attack
trespassers at point

     blank range that pack,
a deadly (Judge Judy ish
     huss) punch smack
king young ones
     upside the head forcing

everyone to backtrack
to their homeland of
     persecution by crack
headed gang members, which thugs
     violently land a deadly whack!
Categories: land(a), abuse, america, break up,
Form: Ballad

Premium Member The Velvet Beach

Let me walk along the velvet beach,
collecting shells upon crushed stretch.
Sun rearing-up a nine year old — teach 
her to be happy, care-free, an oceanic sketch.

Eyes wide open, examine the gifts of the sea.
Brunette hair cascading over the shoulders.
Her bare feet stride through shifting sands free.
The past warms me in this present colder.

With curiosity in seaswept zephyr-ease,
each open shell would land a nesting place.
Her caress of lovely fingerlings, bent knees,
behold a prize...the shellac of time and space.

Piece by piece, a plan from Auntie’s coving.
We’d dip into the shapes, shades, and whispering,
pleasure and pleasantries ensconced in loving
of the sea through the inner ear of offerings.

Tunnels of God—great in mercy and grace.
Small but cared for, this daughter and niece,
sister and friend — so much ancestry to trace
in each universe of person, place and the deceased.

5/17/2021
Categories: land(a), childhood, family, memory, sea,
Form: Quatrain

For Them

For them.

To her the word love refers to a boy.
Something she yearns for and misses dearly.

The day they met was cold and fraught with January chill.

“Oh, that does seem so long ago.”

That is the untarnished memory she replays over and over again when events in her life go array.
Back then it was tangible and real, their lives together had not been succumb to so much misery and woe.

They have triumphed, failed, and even caused each other more pain than can be imagined; But through it all they always walked the path together, holding each others hand.

She loves him unconditionally and for that some people cant understand but love needs no excuses, certainly not for them.

She adores him for working so hard, slaving to the man trying to base a future and a plan for them, but she feels guilty that  their small American dream over the years has always led down a dead end.
With today’s hard times she knows they are not to blame, but still her idol hands carry burden with them.

A plot of land, a small farm, and a home to call their own so they may grow old.
that’s all the pair desire.

He loves her to, a thought that at times is unfathomable.
He admires her dreams, even if they are bigger than the world and never distills fear in her that they wont one day come true. She thinks ill rationally and believes in things as a child would, but this merely makes him smile at her spontaneous outlook.

To him she is like a wild bee, searching ferociously for something.
At times he doesn’t think she will ever find it, that’s why its so hard to see her cry.

Life hasn’t been fair for them.
It’s a tragic book that just keeps reading on.

But they muscle through living on their dream and knowing that as long as they have each other, everything will be alright.

And as they drive home to their house with no walls, catching glimpses of each other in their ratty car they don’t feel so alone.

Behind those blue eyes, she will be forever nineteen to him and to her, as she gazes into his brown large pupils; the boy she knows has grown into a man and at that moment they know, one day all the sacrifices they have made will pay off.
Categories: land(a), inspirational, life, love, day,
Form: Ballad

Premium Member Project Eden

The crescent moons of the auburn sky
The acid rain clouds dance, purple, by

The air it stings as I respirate
A strange howling noise as the storms berate

This tempestuous land, a million clicks from home
My genes robust; Seventh Generation Clone

As I stand here longing for the ship's repair
To accelerate, under robot's care

For the time is short as the signal's down
Only two more sols. We MUST leave the ground

A hundred brothers and sisters too
We escaped our home as the lucky few

In our AI ships under proton power
Left in final days of the meteor shower

With just enough time to load species galore
Under Ark Project VII, just like Noah, once more.

With hope we can find an Eden like Earth
Only this time we'll treasure, for all she is worth
© Sam Scott  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: land(a), earth, science fiction, solitude,
Form: Free verse

Footpaths and Foresights

IN PRAISE OF FOOTPATHS
Across the land a web of footpaths weave
The veins that nourished nation’s interaction
Cross chalk down ridge, and sylvan lane, conceived
By feet of ancient Britons, Celt and Saxon

A mirror web of thought now spreads world wide
Where words not footsteps trace a myriad tracks
Each traversed packet bears the key: decides
It’s destination; choice already packed

No need, in flesh, to bear our information
Impart it face to face in person meeting
While Porlock caller mayn’t break a poet’s gestation
Nor may they both perceive delight in greeting

When we go old ways we choose the place we’re heading
We might also  choose the path on which we are treading

AND OF HISTORY
Just as our paths through space trace footsteps past
So tracks through time tell stories of our history
Each step then taught a lesson that might cast
A foresight to illumine future’s mystery

There are those who say the past is another land
Which can tell us naught to guide us through these days
That all lives we lived before be laid ‘neath time’s sands
We should now tear down the casts the past portrays

Revolutions come and go, revered or morned
Often countless lives were torn in violent spasm
Seen in ruined buildings, streets with blood adorned
And through it all, nihilistic iconoclasm

So let us preserve our past to learn and measure
Those  tattered maps may lead to future treasure
Categories: land(a), history,
Form: Sonnet

Internet Liars

Have you ever stopped and asked yourself why
So many people on the Internet seem to lie
Instead of complying and relying on
What lives deep down inside
To spin their awful lies
That forces us to amplify
Because at the end of the day
A lie is still a lie

No matter how much you cry
These people think they are so sly
Betting that you will not pry
They only want to tell you enough to get by
How they think their story is ever going fly
Sooner or later you know
They are spinning a lie

Cant, they see it leads to our demise
Don't they realize any Internet lie
Always leads to goodbye
To their surprise, some of us are so wise
We see it's all one big disguise 
Having to rely on what I know eye to eye
I'm the kind of guy
Who is always going ask why
You feel like its ever okay to lie
When I told you none of it would fly

If you cant back up what you say
Why did you bring me all this way
Just to treat me like prey
If you have no intention of being what you say
Oh Lord I pray
That it's not always going to be this way

I long for the day when the Internet
Can be like someone you just met
Instead of so many
Who makes it full of regret
Rather than a beautiful sunset

I won't let it discourage me
That kind of women just don't see
How important their word must be
To land a guy like me
Categories: land(a), bullying, emotions, loneliness, loss,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Art of Negotiations

Meeting begins, each puts best foot forward,
in as outer appearances do go,
behind banter lurk motives untoward,
sweet words incongruent with intent low,
just waiting to land a deadly death blow.
Weary of blood and gore, been here before,
we sift subterfuge and get to the core,
our call being, it’s not winner take all,
both sides must rejoice, seeking an encore,
in righteousness thus, players standing tall.

11-April-2022
Categories: land(a), visionary,
Form: Dizain
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