Best Leavens Poems
Every resonance
that seems to bring into life
It makes one's being
a likely confounded mind
yet leavens its fleshliness
03/25/16
Note:
* "Like a bee in a bottle"
is an idiomatic expression of
resonance
*Thus, this poem has something
to do with the law of resonance
4th placer in a contest (April 23, 2016)
please meet me as the sun is setting
by the old mill road
we’ll spend an evening not forgetting
sharing heart’s abode
we’ll take a stroll down to the river
by the city park
and cling together as we quiver
feeling chill at dark
then count the stars up in the heavens
lying in the grass
while holding tight as passion leavens
touches that trespass
I long to hear your gentle whisper
softly in my ear
sweet words of love that make heart blister
begging to endear
tonight, my love, let’s meet at sundown
through the park we’ll stroll
together far away from uptown
losing all control
December 13, 2018
Homey eyes of peasant stew
A cozy-colored mossy mew
Stony cottage, snowcheeks bleu
The forest fins for frosted fruits.
The warmest thought speaks crumbly bread
A partridge purr puffs through my head
That grants the grunkest grue a ‘Get!’
To packrat out the paquerettes.
Don’t see the speech I say with sneer
As something to be had with beer
Don’t bucker bricks of buttered bleers
And sift strunk talk through quandarous weirs.
The clothes and shelter of your mouth
Has cleaned my frame as cold as south
For queeks are quay, oh when you quoth
And yokel twirls are yaws of youth.
Clearings clean, as cream is crisp
With cluffs of clementine in risp
The grout of your cuts, freed of lisps
Your watch turns wandering whelks to whisps.
Sweet as sneezes from a lamb
As cozy as a Christmas ham
To jaunt with you with bread and jam
Is all I am, is all I am…
A blanket for the rawest nerve
A babe beyond the laws of earth
A smile sways the swooping surf
And gifts sweet goods of grinning girths.
Your hair? An electric guitar!
With sprinkles of suburban stars
Might smell of smelting lemon bars
Each strand a sacred seminar.
That hark the realms of Everfar!
And halt the helms of Neverare!
That licks the lich that leavens scars!
Screams “Non septimo, sempris quar!”
I believe you’re Good, I mean you’re blessed
With holy elks that guard your breast
Whose rumps remain on royal chests
And watch for wendigos out West.
A soul of Greyhound bus views darkly
Hushed in cornfields crumps so starkly
With windmills waning wicks so barky
Olive Garden oligarchies.
Clearings clean, as cream is crisp
With cluffs of clementine in risp
The grout of your cuts, freed of lisps
Your watch turns wandering whelks to whisps.
Sweet as sneezes from a lamb
As cozy as a Christmas ham
To jaunt and jibe with you with bread and jam,
Is all I am, is all I am.
She is adorn in henna blooms
Her lips as red as crimson
Her fragrance fills rooms like pillars of smoke
Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense
Betrothed to One Husband
A marriage of minds
A virgin hard to find
A chaste virgin Bride
She is called to be Holy
Pure and intolerant to sin
A spotless wife without blemish
She bears pleasant fruits, the very best
She has marred her beauty
She has turned away and is gone
She has given in to idolatry
Espousing to another deity
She’s like a leaven that leavens the lump
The Bride in town is corrupted
“Your garment is greatly polluted; you have played the harlot with many lovers,
yet return to me”, says the Lord. Jeremiah 3:1b
Sands of Time
these grains of sand passing by I find
are like the memories of lives gone past
and as these sands of time flow through my mind
I wonder when I will find the key at last
living in caves searching the heavens
fishing in streams and hunting my meals
and each morning as the sun star leavens
my mind turns like stone age wheels
a million years have come and gone
I suppose a million more will pass on by
the age of man has hardly dawn
I look up and wonder why
why am I here just what is my purpose
sometimes I feel this is such a cruel game
in this ring of a crazy circus
am I a fool should I feel some shame
some say just keeping faith is all you need
I think that's a hopeful guess
you cannot know from where came the seed
it is impossible to say truly yes
many before me and yet more will come
to trudge through the desert of life
the sands of time shifting beat like a drum
and we dance on to music from the fife
I can only hope that when I have gone
no one will shake their heads and say
he followed in line just like a pawn
retracing steps of another day
once again I look to the sky
ever searching for inspiration devine
feeling tears fall from my eye
tears of all mankind not just mine
Gomer LePoet...
An adjustment of ageless allure,
Buzzing bees, chirping birds,
Conversations confused, girls play coy.
Disconcerted; demanding; desire.
Early stages evolving each day,
Form like fiddleheads frolicking free.
Geographically girls giggle and grow.
Heartache upon heartache, puppy loves.
Inquisitiveness highlighting “I.”
Joys and joviality gyrate.
“K-I-S-S-I-N-G” song starts.
Love laughing like time never ends…lost.
Multifaceted mysterious.
Nervously naughty or not teens date,
Obsessed with opulence and opposites.
Quiet quivering excites each touch.
Restraints regress as id versus superego.
Summertime separations suffering,
Teen bodies attain spanking new shapes.
Until one day, change is in full bloom.
Violets and roses scent life’s richest love.
Willfully, sometimes not, passion arrives.
Xanadu escapes from childhood dreams.
Yesterday leavens into tomorrow’s maturity.
Zestfully, adulthood thrives.
Copyrighted October 18, 2014
If a poem or essay can end with a conclusion or its opposite, either one,
Can it be of any use to anyone?
Do the discrepancies and disparities, dualities and densities, reflect only
the dementia
Of the bearer of the pencil?
First entertain, then enlighten if you can. One stretches truth in order to
pretend,
Another leavens with levity one’s inevitable end.
Most days it's not possible to bring your life into an expressible state.
Disparate hopes, arduous chores, word choices. And, of course, the
state of the state.
Driven by ideas rather than rhymes, for it is not metres, but a
metre-making argument,
That makes a poem. Convenience store or university English
department
The day's disputes, down to the meaning of the weather, leave you
indisposed
To share your heart of zero and your inner rose.
It is the strong force, the energy of the loved ones combined with
cooperation for good or war.
Dad's years in New Guinea fighting Japs, he said, were his best by far.
The best that can be said or done is Be where you are. Love the one
you're with
Not necessarily an adult of the opposite sex, perhaps just a kid who
hates math
And school, dresses goth, reads rarely but learns a lot from movies and
YouTube,
Has the presence of mind to say I am who I am, deal with it. That's who
I want to be
And have always been. Today clean the house, again. Woke up this
morning to two thoughts:
How sweet to be alive! Life is tough.
A bang rattles the heavens,
The earth shakes, jiggles, and leavens.
Silence swarms hell. Black darkness!
Humans wonder, panic at the madness!
Close to an hour, darkness prevail.
Close to an hour, hearts fail.
"What happened?" whispers creep in fear.
Then thunder booms from heaven's rear.
Light balloons, sweeps the world.
A voice rings, across the earth whorled:
"It's finished, Death 's dead."
© 2013
Light leavens leaden doors.
Genealogies of genocide are lost
in long night rides through thistled trees,
dark reunions of distant blood.
Kinships are recounted, mantras murmured
of summer savory and sorrel flaxseed
like scars on wrists, a sparrow grass of needles.
We are immutable, terra cotta with wild glints
of sea-flecked eyes--
a mask of freedom, a final submission.
Origami moths mime legends in tallow lights,
stigmata their small dyings with rites of regeneration:
bleeding dim faiths, sealing silent sins
with the infection of sky.
We become insane shadows, cloistered cousins
of a dark, moist marrow
mythological as opaque men in pale pearled sheets,
chiaroscuro faces written in a white rage of worms.
A meal worm eats me like a gourd of flesh,
this slimy beast I dread; two weeks or more
until my heart's (that once was young and fresh)
a hole that brims with the plaque of its gore.
Soft-bodied, legless, and writhing, this meal worm,
like yeast that leavens a raw loaf of baked bread,
or phage that necrotizes like a germ,
consumes its host until it's thoroughly fed.
Elongated and portly, like a porcine
(a fat creature and ravenous parasite!)
with the over-sized appetite of a swine,
you threaten me with a sick, terminal blight.
But if I were the brave one, O meal worm,
I'd make a meal of you and watch you squirm!
The Lever (1) of Faith
*
The lever we need to move earth, if not heavens,
is Science, my friend, not your ‘take’ on our Bibles
(some mindfart of personal prejudice)! Players
take truth out of context to justify evil.
The ‘Saved’ aren’t much better, board Grace like ark’s lifeboat,
think the phrase, “I love Jesus!” means God’s in a headlock!
‘Saved’ dream this proves ‘FAITH!’ But FAITH’s dead when one’s certain.
*
God’s presence is palpable, ‘Love’ knows no curtain.
We scramble on earth, but God’s Truth is not adhoc.
Truth IS (like I AM!), God writes text, we’re time’s footnote.
We’re art still evolving, man’s pallet’s primeval!
We flounder on privilege, hang out in ‘Hooters!
Best Science more models what’s real! Fake ‘truth’ libels
when all’s said and done, while humility leavens.
*
There’s virtue in thinking, more sin in emotion!
Can merit attribute for acting on instinct?
What sin could condemn those whose thoughts fail in logic?
But faith (that’s not action), Christ says can move mountains, (2)
can prosper Good Works that are what God’s Will mainstreams,
while good works ‘you’ author casts light on worm leavings!
What’s not in God’s will might be works of the Devil.
*
It’s Faith or good works that more signal devotion,
a heart that’s a servant? Could real God be hoodwinked?
Faith’s lever can pivot on mass (geologic)
or fulcrums on God’s Will? Bathe heart in Truth’s fountains,
doubt easy solutions, don’t marry your daydreams!
There’s more to success in this life than our cravings.
Digest food life feeds you and play on the level.
*
*
Brian Johnston
5th of December in 2020
Poet’s Notes:
(1) Archimedes – “Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to
place it, and I shall move the world.”
(2) 1 Corinthians 13:2
“If I have the gift of prophesy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if
I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.”
When existential angst and doubt meet faith,
the saved hold on and cleave unto their God
through prayer; like Job's wife, apostates oft' saith
“Curse God and die!” when lightning strikes the rod:
consumed by the bolt's power, it loses
hope in the celestial Creator (leaven
of doubt leavens the saints; even Moses,
the Nile-cruising infant sent as from heaven
by Lights, could not invoke ten commandments
from the Mount to erase Israel's trespass
of lacking faith.). The old and new testaments
of antique, ancient time (when giv'n en masse)
reveal and offer for posterity
faith's assured reward and reality!
The Bijou Gift
David J Walker
Lifestreams from mountains
Into pools of liquid blue
From heavens golden fountains
On paths that we once knew
The sun shines on halos
A prisms filtered awed
A mystery Incognito
Reveals the face of God
Clouds part the heavens
The fog must surely lift
consultation sweetly leavens
Reveals the Bijou gift
Know ye not,
a little leaven leavens the whole lump
Mix in a few little lies,
and make the unleavened bread rise
Puffed up full of pride
Mix in a little leaven,
and you gotta toss the whole batch out
Same as when Satan got tossed out of heaven
Know ye not,
a little leaven of wickedness mixed in,
is gonna cause spiritual rot
Nothing but a batch full of sin ...
throw it all out
Then make a new unleavened lump,
of only truth and sincerity
Know ye not,
this is the pure way the holy bread of life be
A little leaven leavens the whole lump,
A moment of festering,
The whole body is thrown off balance,
The whole body is out of coordination,
A moment of taking off the eyes,
A moment of negligence,
Wound festers and pesters the body,
It is infected and
defects the body’s mechanism,
Let wound be washed clean,
Disinfected and protected,
Covered with a sterile covering,
Its healing, our benefit,
Its rejuvenation, our energizing,
Festering wound,
A bane to mankind’s pursuit.
March 8, 2022
Pick - A - Title Poetry Contest: Festering Wound
Edward Ibeh