Best Levelled Poems
Savoured roots at the tip of a spade
Dying leaves escape their own tree’s shade
We’re in a draught, spare me your tears
Unless you’re a portfolio full of shares
The land is levelled by green boots
Their orders given by black suits
Does anyone know who invented the book?
The written word whose hand knowledge shook?
I'm the wailing guitar's disconnected speaker
The cure found in the slip of a broken glass beaker
The trillions locked away in a vault of greed
The billions our fear safely breeds
I'm surrounded by a heat of hatred
My peaceful world's smouldering and defeated
Deep in lack of love's crippling frustration
Sunny days clouded in cold perspiration
Life is crawling down the barrel of a gun
In the firing line of death rays escaping the sun
I count my enemies in each empty shell
I pick it up to glimpse down the bottom of hell
I'm seen in forgotten memory
A lost entry in a 1939 Nazi diary
Left out to wet and dry like an old newspaper
Let me fly this wind fate's prepared proper
I was searching for peace and quiet
I couldn't afford to pay a requested quote
So I live up the slippery walls of a bleeding nose
Along the ear channel’s tunnelled noise
I hear whispered dark secrets
Confessions and prayers hummed and sacred
Shouted insults and empty threats
The clearing and swallow of a dry throat
Thabang J. Ngoma
13-12-2015
John lawless’s Where Echoes Hide - Poetry Contest
A farmer met a wizard who was wearing odd regalia
The wizard gave him seed of magic carrots from Australia
You sow them just like normal but they all grow upside down
The leaves will grow like roots, the carrots stick out of the ground
The farmer dug and rotavated, levelled off the soil
He was super motivated, those seeds mustn’t spoil
He worked so hard, that shovel he was pushing and a shoving
When he was done his back was bad and now he’s good for nothing
Those magic carrots, upside down, all turned out to be beauties
But poor old farmer’s stuck indoors on lightweight household duties
He’s standing in the kitchen where he’s washing pans and pots
His wife is in the carrot field and smiling as she squats
Old flame memories, and game show repeats,
viewed through tobacco, it's smoke fills the room,
loneliness, only, stays glued to defeat,
blue-bottles, can't help, but choke on the gloom.
Dreams like the remote, corroded to rust,
unopened, unpaid, bills sit by the door,
surrendered and lost, to despair and dust,
no-one levelled up, around here for sure.
Each day's an ashtray, of stub filled regret,
while moth eaten drapes, block out the world's light,
another neat gin, will help to forget,
added indifference, towards day and night.
The blocked drains and sink, dirty old dishes,
all that remains of, yesterday's wishes.
PRIDE
I went in search of pride
When I found her; she was so proud of herself
She prided herself about like a peacock
I told her the humble truth of life
Pride, you need to get down from your high shoes
Only then can you realize that which you haven't realized
The ground on which you stand is not a levelled ground
This ground you stand on is only a stepping ground to a higher ground
Right now, you see it as a ground higher than mount Everest
Your pride deceives you; you are standing on a ground below sea level.
She is just a girl
She is in herself a self acclaimed goddess
She likes to be in control of everything
When there is nothing else to control; she controls herself
Though not good at it; herself controls her
Pride gets the best out of her; humility is her slave
She is drowning in an ocean of fantasy and doesn't want to shout for help
She doesn't want to get real with reality
She is too comfortable to be uncomfortable in her comfortable comfort
Your pride deceives you; you are living an uncomfortable life.
He is just a boy
He is in himself a self acclaimed god
He likes to be in control of everything
When there is nothing else to control; he controls himself
Though not good at it; himself controls him
Pride gets the best out of him; humility is his slave
He is drowning in an ocean of fantasy and doesn't want to shout for help
He doesn't want to get real with reality
He is too comfortable to be uncomfortable in his comfortable comfort
Your pride deceives you; you are living an uncomfortable life.
Lordvip
HOAR FROST
Multi-fingered trees drowned in the mist
Mist like the cold hand of death coming to Ramses
Last night’s mist - purifying spirit
Enveloping all in the frost
Like a well-tended graveyard
Dead, silent, nothing moves
The ugly old dead trees - and
The lovely young live trees
Are levelled, enveloped,
Masked in a white shroud
Each tree - asleep, dead
Recreated in white
Born again of water and Holy Spirit
Ready to enter the kingdom of heaven.
All souls look alike
All the trees look alike
New souls reborn sinless
Souls of trees waiting
These ghost trees are not real trees
Their previous life forgotten, bees and pollen
All sensual feeling numbed
Their tree souls purified
Pure innocence - sin free
Prepared for tree heaven
Cold joy of heaven
Ah….the forgotten delights
Of being a larch or elder or oak.
The warmly imperfect summer life
He sends me the love of the mountains, where i was born,
Tall and majestic, reaching the sky,
To touch the clouds on a sunny day,
God is powerful in ways we learn to comprehend,
He caresses the mountains like a love from long ago,
Walking through the fields of flowers and green grass,
i am enamored by his presence and his love for humanity,
His song reaches the gods with appreciation,
A concert magnaimos and muti-levelled,
Enhancing our lives in ways that are beautiful and comprehensive,
God's fan personified and real.
A blessing from God and a miracle.
Author: Gwen von Erlach Schutz
A recent Facebook question I did see, asked which of the following are the most important? The question was levelled at anybody who read the actual article.
The list was as follows.
Work
Sleep
Education
Money
Quran
Preparing for grave
I replied and then thought I would write a poem.
Now I have and I shall title it.
Decisions in life
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad author
& A Poetry Soup honourably mentioned poet
Reading this list, I thought I’d reply.
With a poem I thought I’d try.
Money was the first thing I said, with that the rest are available I said.
With money you can get knowledge from education.
With education you should find work.
Even employ others, making your money work.
Love well that’s a funny thing.
As in this world, you should love everyone and thing.
Now the Quran, let me see, a faith, almost like Christianity.
Both prepare us for the grave.
As none of the above from that, can us save.
Today I stopped waiting.
I had promised distance.
I never break promises,
but this time,
it was survival.
I ranted a little,
accused a lot,
a disgusting manipulation,
for I must sew the seed,
the opposite of love.
So I am cut off,
I am hated,
and I have totally lost,
control, happiness, warmth,
but I am levelled.
Today I weigh a bit less,
and I move a bit quicker.
This day I cease hiding
from myself
and the truth I denied.
I am free now,
and I will rebuild.
My house will be bigger,
than even back then,
and it will boast a great Master.
My heart is white today,
it's blackness is gone.
My will serves as a ticket
toward the long journey ahead,
destination is justified and fluid.
Those that leave you,
make you a larger vessel.
Once emptied it will hunger
to be filled to it's brim,
with a gorgeous golden meniscus.
Do not run, do not shield,
for it is a valorous goal.
To know the pain you risk
and the robbing of the time,
preluded by hope and satisfaction.
So thank the lovers in a moment of clarity,
thank the thieves of hearts and memories,
think of them as salient and sweet.
For you are enriched and unburdened,
and you are ready to admit the light.
Rage at the dark,
Rant at the ravagers of souls,
but welcome them to the stage.
For to master the act,
one must first master the rehearsal.
The morning is fair and without compare;
desire to escape commotion in motion.
With apologies to Frost, but I’m lost
in sylvan idyll; my thoughts to distil.
I should have turned left or maybe the cleft
ignored as the bend designates the end.
Peering into the void I can’t avoid
the nagging feeling that the sheep bleating
as they’re trudging through the mud, chewing cuds
on the road most travelled and levelled,
would’ve been easier terrain – not bane
of thorns and thistles. As temper bristles,
thoughts turn mutinous. Incongruously
I’ll save either way for another day.
Poetic form: Lannet sonnet
poeticsonline.com/glossary/lannet/
The day fell,
and the night came,
shrouding me in shadows,
where silence echoed,
and I stood alone,
a solitary figure,
lost in dark thoughts,
weaving visions of a red-flamed future,
glimmering like gleaming gold,
but laced with despair.
Beneath the cold Kachikau winds,
the breath of the late me swept through,
carrying whispers of yesterdays,
and the weight of a world aching,
a bleeding earth,
its crust folding,
wrapping secrets in layers of sorrow.
I saw the end of the world,
a collapse so gentle,
like a rose wilting in the dry season,
the future fading,
petals falling,
each one a memory,
each one a promise unkept.
The walls we built trembled,
cracked under the pressure of our own making,
the rock of my salvation,
long weathered,
her spirit eroded,
whispers of strength now mere echoes.
The Kachikau horizons lay levelled,
a barren canvas where dreams once danced,
the times when you were with me,
when I was with you,
all but a flicker in the depths of time,
a fire burned them to the depths of Sheol,
consuming love, consuming light—
I saw the earth fade,
an artist’s brush sweeping across the canvas,
leaving only shades of gray.
We dug a pit,
and in our haste, we fell,
collapsing into the very void we crafted,
our hands stained with the earth’s blood,
we made it bleed,
our lips consumed us,
entwined in a kiss of despair,
a desperate embrace,
where passion turned to ashes.
Now, the end of the world is near,
a whisper on the wind,
a haunting melody,
and we,
we are all fading,
like stars swallowed by the dawn,
our light dimming,
our stories unfinished,
as darkness wraps around us,
an eternal shroud,
here i am in the flesh
no victim levelled in scope
22 catches im cashing
not selling the dope
i watched the sunrise
used to pray sometimes
kids thatd played outside
tho fate did seem unkind
chased a better understanding
even struck with fear
i snuck the beer
tried to duck my peers
i followed a different meter
nothing a solid measure
chosen to conquer pressure
everything a destresser
heart holding me hostage
molted to honest
i bolted the hardest
when the weather was modest
a mouse a giant in microns
goodbye to those by gones
dont question my sigh wrong
my glance isn't sidelong
grapple like pyslocke
i baffle this time slot
id raffle what i got
if the apple had dry rot
a value subjection
the cowl of perfection
the now in dissection
with an owls direction
i mirrored reflections
considered my being
chose service of special
situations im seeing
putting words to the onset
throwing curves in a concept
praise a merge of the object
from curse to the prospect
Paying Homage
Awaiting the news, anxious for a cash day,
calling friends, only a few replied.
Searching for answers, only music for hay,
returned calls, then you supplied.
Austerity cuts hurting the Western poor,
similar to a normal day for Eastern bites.
Hospital, school, factory workers mop a Northern floor,
left now laminating and missing those Southern nights.
A divisive figure passes, levelled far too many lands,
a magical garden appears in far away sands.
Regrets, threats, defeats, victories; does it matter?
Speaking of current times and old times; review the latter.
Took the choice to move and study those rights abroad,
they had no choice, unfortunate products of the state.
A decade on, worse off, no need too applaud,
takes a tough time to flush out a friend; much homage to a mate.
© Shane Cogan, 2013
ENDLESS END
(i)
Beside the running water
Falling down the hill
I met a young man , handsome and good looking
Yet, frazzled and bored
Sitting all day long
Beside the running water
Young man, why are you
Sitting all day long
Frazzled and bored
Beside the running water
You cannot know and hope you will not be bothered
( in a voice sounding like a moving train: unrest and unbalance)
Many rivers i have crossed
Many mountain i have levelled
Many wide animals i had met
Inside many of the thick forests
As i cross, crossing many borders
Keeping my eyes firmly in a vision
Like a hunter that is hunting for God
(ii)
Many moons i have counted
With sun rising and falling
Day by day, i lingered in the melt of its heat
Searching for the most beautiful in the world
That i may stay with for better and for the worse
I have crossed many rivers
Seeing beauties and beauties of feminine attractions
Still, like a grave, i cried, crying for more
Until i see the lord of all beauty
The beautiful that beautify the beauties
(iii)
Young man, what made thee
Thy little sense carved in a big box
Searching and pondering over and over
A never ending finding : the beautiful of the world
The earth, oceans, rivers and the desert all inclusive
Beauty lies in the choice
He who found choice has found the beautiful
For choice makes a woman beautiful in the eyes of man
I stood atop the fortress Megiddo
plains in the Jezreel stretching all around
from John's Apocalypse believers know
this site where the last battle will be found.
Through God's wrath seventh Angel is unleashed
by quake and fire, hailstorm now levelled ground
wailing from the followers of the beast
earth and man laid waste by trumpet sound.
But now I think that we knew all along
as murder stalks the French and Belgian streets
that in his Revelations John was wrong
here, now, in present times these armies meet.
As words become fulfilled, then by and by
I pause and wonder- could the end be nigh?
The scariest part of life?
When it's rife with strife?
No! Your footing is levelled -
So after you've wrestled
Conflict is settled
here is in my opinion,
A ruler of fear dominion:
When you peer
Into eyes so insincere;
You name them foe.
Deep in their dark glow
You see the reflection
hat upon its detection
You think self-portrait!
But they aren't the hornet
You tried so hard to mask