Best Likened Poems
Perhaps in a row they sit on their chair.
At their small object they all like to stare.
In an upside down world, the room’s silence grows.
They sit on their chair, perhaps in a row.
With both thumbs moving, such dexterity!
Faster than cheetahs their thumbs seem to be.
Some with small headphones also are grooving.
Such dexterity with both thumbs moving.
You utter a word; I doubt they will hear.
On screens, words are better than in one’s ear.
Conversing sans screen they might find absurd.
I doubt they will hear you utter a word.
I see them in class not looking at books
in spite of their teachers’ dirtiest looks.
Tell them to stop; they just give you their sass,
not looking at books! I see them in class.
Their phones are in use all hours of the day.
Do not even try to take them away!
You might be accused of phone/child abuse.
All hours of the day their phones are in use.
I see moms alone with a child that’s hurt,
Not even giving their child some comfort.
Nothing else matters but their precious phone.
With a child that’s hurt I see moms alone.
The cell phone’s their all - their almighty God.
Anything else for them must be a fraud.
Some only text you; they won’t take your call!
Their almighty God - the cell phone’s their all.
When did this begin? Bringing phones in school?
Kids who don’t have them are thought not too cool.
To take students’ phones is likened to sin.
Bringing phones in school. . .When did this begin?
A time and a place there is for all things.
I hate at the movies when a phone rings!
Cell phones at dinner? An utter disgrace!
There is for all things a time and a place.
Sadly, much worse, there’s texting while driving.
If you’re not trying to be surviving,
do it! Your next ride might be in a hearse.
There’s texting while driving, sadly much worse.
Nothing else matters to addicts, I know.
*Every cloud has a silver lining though -
Less actual talking with those mad as hatters!
To addicts I know, nothing else matters.
inspiration from the Metallica Song: Nothing Else Matters
Written April 28, 2016 a
using Swap Quatrain style, a form created by Lorraine M. Kanter and described at Shadowpoetry.com.
A Tree
I’m a tree lining a country road
Along with hundreds of other
Trees in the direction of a verdant
Forest—full of scenic wonder and
Teaming with life.
All of us stand tall and firm with
Such majestic beauty and geometric
Symmetry and precision which is
Evident from the angles and curves
Of each tree and the fact we all
Practically line up in a straight line.
The simplicity and beauty we display
To the human eye disguises the actual
Complexity beneath the surface of our
Existence which could even be likened
To some form of a thought-provoking
Algebraic equation.
We all represent the wizardry of Mother
Nature and the divine thought of God and
Have been an integral part of this Earth
Far longer than Mankind—and do we have
Some stories that we could share with you!
As a tree I’m nurtured daily by our Earth,
But as I take, I also give back and help to
Bring balance to Earth’s daily Carbon
Dioxide output in the greater scheme of
The worldwide environment.
And so, as a Tree, my life and function
As a living organism and an entity here
On Earth is a testament to the wonder of
Creation, and both the marvel and mystery
Of the Universe, and the omnipotence and
Divine power of God.
Gary Bateman and Ingrid Krukenberg-Bateman
– A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(May 12, 2015) (Narrative)
*Originally written on February 15, 2015 for my new book.
It was on a Kansas farm
I saw the beauty and the charm
as I sat gazing out across the hills
Not a car or man in sight
just a blue and cloudless sky
and the smell of barley wafting from the mills
A rabbit scurried fast
and a meadowlark flew past
and I could hear the quiet ripple of a stream
As the sun set miles away
I had hoped to keep this day
as I likened this adventure to a dream
As I lie upon the grass
with no rush to hurry back
to the city with its bustle in the street
I closed my eyes awhile
and in classic country style
I held a blade of wheat between my teeth
The ‘nothingness’ was there
yet it displayed a certain air
and the splendor of the tall grass was pristine
It was on a Kansas farm
that I found this scene of charm
and my heart rejoiced in all that was serene.
The poet dreams, and with a simple glance
at trees or sky or at a mountain spring,
begins to write, endeavors to enhance
each sight of beauty with imagining.
He paints midsummer as a day of gold,
the song of birds at twilight as the tune
for his beloved, whose aspect is extolled
and likened to the splendor of the moon.
At times, his heart is pained. It seems that doom
pursues him in that chasm where he grieves.
He finds he still must write. . . and there may bloom
sweet wistful roses on his journal’s leaves.
Though meager be his assets, he bequeaths
to us a treasure with the words he breathes.
For "A Poet's Worth" Poetry Contest
Scrambling tooth and nail for a patterned fate
I approached the lofty mansion of Learning's Gate.
All cued up for a slip of paper - the one they call Degree,
halfway convinced that I hallucinated humanity.
For who under their own free will would venture
into this spiraling sameness:
this illustriously-in-debt, this Regal Club
of the Nameless?
I bellowed my voice into the air
(This great atrocity!).
But not a single student seemed to care:
So well fashioned they were,
adorned in their prized medals of mediocrity.
Along with their unwillingness to ever stray,
all too content to be but rainbows dreaming of gray.
I hung my head in such morose emptiness.
As I fashioned myself: the uniquely ubiquitous.
And what a fool I was to join the crowd - and yet so halfheartedly.
Striving for the cirrus clouds, the silver moon, and then the galaxy.
For my actions didn't match my cerebral creativity
I was statue still cursed with a meandering mind
(and other such extremities).
Exploding with hopes large enough for two
I sat clearly convinced languid leaps would do.
But one cannot daintily decide to dream the Dream
for it is merely the seed, another earthly deed.
You're not allowed to walk away, gandering as it grows,
for we are likened as the summer sun - keeping the rivers a'flow.
"Picturing profits in your hands
do not till the all too ready land"
explained the elderly gent with leathered palms,
"Someday soon you will understand."
And though we aim to be ourselves
gravity inevitably
brings us to the grid.
Imagination like a heavy rain;
we the paper people
so helplessly hid.
But fear not ye denizens
of the cherished cubbyhole:
where you keep under lock and key
your dust-laden soul.
If one burgeoning blunder
tore it all asunder
surely one single spirited spark
could heal even the most
dormant of hearts.
So fare thee well oh Cookie Cutter Coop -
Another day on that wretched plain, and I'd surely die.
I'm glad just to sever sameness in one fell swoop
by hanging on a star in the midnight sky.
NOTE: I always enjoyed using alliteration when I could... and with this particular one I went a little bit nutty... but I think it turned out okay.
His deepest belief was in truth,
His greatest faith was in God,
He was selfless in his pursuit,
Millions followed where he trod!
He wore no crown, robes or tie,
He was no king, had no kingdom,
Thin and small at five foot five,
He won his people their freedom!
He lived life about the same time,
Adolf Hitler unleashed his anger,
millions perished to Nazi crime,
But Gandhi put no one in danger.
race discrimination he boldly fought,
in South Africa as a young lawyer,
No guns or swords he ever sought,
But he lead by fasting and prayer!
He was by birth a religious Hindu,
But respected all the world beliefs,
All religions were one in his view,
They were same in their motives.
Love, peace, path of nonviolence,
were all his weapons of resistance,
Absorbing anger, showing patience,
he lead India to its independence.
Great minds, common people like us,
Called him Mahatma, a great Soul,
He was likened to Jesus and Moses,
As they revered and pursued his goal.
He fasted to unite the rioting people,
Who killed because of religious strife,
They prayed in mosques and temple,
And thay all prayed only for his life!
On a prayer morning in late January,
Two hate bullets tore his loving heart,
His life put out by ignorance and fury,
he was killed by a world torn apart!
Even several decades after his death,
His message of love shines through,
Like many prophets before his birth,
His life’s mission, to save me and you!
*2nd placement in the contest
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke
Your Favorite Legend ' Contest
Written 10/03/2020
Along this foggy daybreak stroll,
I tread along the intersection
between Mabini Street and EDSA boulevard,
crossing number 25 Ortigas Road.
I breathe in the same grain
of Manila pollen and dust itching
my throat ; an acrid mound of city garbage
gathered by rain’s aftermath,
as if to beckon another tropical deluge;
and the loud chatter of headlines
from the newspaper stand pierces
the lobes with a burning jolt… a bundle
of political scoops and trade rumors
grating an otherwise neutral hour.
Few distances away, a flea market stand
vibrates with energy; pedestrians milling
around to check buko pies, plum bits,
and homemade guava jams… the exotic aromas
mixing with smoky flavor of dried bamboo leaves
on top of abaca wares; all these catering
to small pleasures of the low-middle working class.
Curving through Francis Square, a deluge
of movement initiates the 7 30 am rush…
buses, cars, and taxi- stands unload
a giant hive of wayfarers coming from
different points of the map; dragging
their skeletal frames like ticks of a clock.
Amidst a Friday hub, I stop to glance at the
towering statue of Mother Mary as a
cart-pusher slowly wanders by; his warm
smile bearing a contrast in a region
where the rat race of man is typical.
Surrounded by a collage of fragrant
eucalypti and mango trees, I breath in
a sense of delight likened to my
yard’s garden, this time, with heady scent.
The plump oaks at the front lobby
of Pharmo Industries are shedding
foliage, while a painted splash
of native robins cruises from laced twigs,
far beyond the clutter of newspaper stands,
market place, and taxi-stands.
My gaze casts inward to balance my thoughts,
as I begin my protracted stay at work.
Stand Contest of Debbie Guzzi
and Nathan's One of Your Best
by nette onclaud
I searched only to find,
days more survived,
th'n wooed by life,
asking the heavens why.
Her name held a promised vow..
likened to a solitary bell,
from tall steeple's climb,
oh, how far I fell..
for one called Michelle.
I'll meet you in starlight again..
if rightful universe is willing,
to lend a helping hand.
Maybe, just maybe,
if they hear me praying,
where winged angels go singing..
her laughing eyes still playing.
Night passes on,
awaiting tomorrow's dawn,
somewhere a lone bell still ringing,
where queen takes pawn.
Two lover's lips willing to relearn,
whispered in a wishing well,
softest voice' heralding a return,
the one called Michelle..
There are a lot of word Smiths on this site
Who pen good poems that are out of sight
Its likened to attending a beautiful feast
Or eating good bread with just enough yeast
However, I must point out, and it's not a myth
I am in no way, shape, or form a word, Smith
But, I marvel at the talented people here
Viewing their various poems fills me with cheer
I am forever thankful I found Poetry Soup
This community is such a fantastic group
Finding the gift of words saved my life
It rescued me from heartache and strife
So, although I don’t cross every “ T” nor;
Do I dot every “I” writing means much more
I know some could care less about my poetry
It’s ok, well all have different tastes, you see
However, we must respect one another
By not saying nasty things to each other
Isn’t this lovely site about sharing poetry?
The backbiting needs to stop; It’s no mystery
Amid a few bad apples on this amazing site
This will always be a place for me to write
Alexis Y.
08/18/2022
My life started with adoption
then realizing had a stammer as well
struggle through school glad to leave
at fifteen still struggling to tell
First job was electrician so spark
but colour blindness put that off rail
then worked as storeman rest of career
in various places never going stale
Got married to Jean in mid-twenties
but she passed away in less than year
that night I fell on God's merciful grace
received Christ who became so dear
Then nine years later met Christine
got wed after nine months courtship
now last year celebrated silver wed
a blessed marriage such sweet fellowship
But the frozen tongue has remained
has gone up and down many a hill
it's likened to an iceberg at sea
people only see the tip as you will
Like the iceberg real trouble down below
all the damaged emotions lie at foot
getting over them still all frozen
needs real heat to melt way at root
So persevere on to loosen tongue
some progress is at winter season
writing poetry brings real calm
summers pushing ice onto easing
(I had written this concerning my stammer, hence my frozen tongue all through my life but thought it showed one idea of being frozen in time.
This was written a number of years ago but thought new friends may like to read it.)
And my eyes are beguiled
to climb into the grace
of his evening’s mystery ,
likened to a fragrant embrace
so radiant in its spell : that I glide
through a cruise of dreams,
enchanting as summer's warm river
flowing gently into me.
His whispers bid my lips closer
while the musky dew, the moist hush
quenches us into the moonlight;
bestowing duskfall, our communion...
that from morn beginning, love's silence
holds me tenderly nourished.
Best romantic write May-July 2017 Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton Reposted 7/26/2018
I cradle and rock him,
He's so fragile a thing in my arms,
So perfect, so innocent,
So unlike his mother.
His mother was broken and wicked,
A being rotten from within,
But I had loved her still.
It was foolish, I know,
But is that not what love entails,
Accepting someone for who they are?
She likened herself to a grey petaled rose once,
Sere and dying.
He'd likened her to a little candle,
Hidden beneath a bushel.
She called her life a colorless canvassed painting,
With him only as red.
When she saw only lifeless skies and muted chaos,
And her sanity danced away;
To some silent unheard rock music,
He fastened to her hand and danced with her,
Till the music turned gentle,
And it's tempo slow.
I had known she wouldn't stay for me,
Believing otherwise would be naive.
I had thought she would stay for him;
Our little boy,
Thought she could lock away those parts of herself,
That part of her mind that played terrible scenes;
Of still bloody rivers,
And terrific demons,
And scattered husks of men;
All in haunting recaps,
That compelled her to recreate such destruction.
She did not think she was worthy,
To look upon a thing so perfect and innocent,
And call her own.
She was broken and wicked,
And she was rotten from within,
But she knew in her black shriveled beating-box,
That he would take care of him,
Like he had done for her,
As her healer and her friend,
Though he was not his own.
So she'll close her eyes for just a little while,
For she believed all will be well,
And she hoped to go where there was silence,
Flawless emptiness.
It would be beautiful to her if death were like that.
She'll love them both still,
In that world of total blankness,
And isn't that what love is about,
Letting someone go when you know you're not right for them?
So thoughtfully busily going to the tomb
Were you enamored with words from the womb
Verbally gurgling did you succumb
Or did it come later in life
Likened to lightning spelling you under
Suddenly there before hearing the thunder
Rapidly vapidly words in your head
Were ringing and clamoring yet to be said
At work in your garden editing hedge
Trimming unwanted excess
It smacks of sedition this growing ambition
To put plants in orderly rowed inhibition
Sun reaching in silent distress
The beauty of discipline held up to view
In close captivated submission
In ranks and in rows uniformly disposed
Earthbound and holding attention
Yet openly Stubbornly free
They continue to grow.
To Flander's field poppies
And crosses akin
They are harvests of memory to reap
Promises planted to keep
Why should I be as one to veileth
herself, asking God, why thy Lilith?
You who made me of filth and impure sediment
Unlike the first man, made of dust or earth
What cause am I to deserve bedevilment?
Beneath him I am bitter like the root of myrrh
Snake charmer with cymbals
capture's men devout to her
Spell binding for the lout
A silky veil of crimson
drapes her luminous skin
Like the blood seen
from many a slayed men
Zills made of human bones
Imprinted are erotic symbols
Shrouded are her features
Lacen'd silk brush velvet lips
Intensity blazes as
sparkling ebony eyes appear
Raven hair flows wild
like glossy black feathers,
Bare feet buried in nights cool sand,
Swaying hips from side to side
Alluring goddess, she ascends to the sky
Her wings fan the flames
traversing through ancient Syria
Her equality shall be her alibi
Lusty lascivious lovers!
Sons of fathers, the unbaptized
doomed to the fiery hells
There in languid desire she dwells
Why should I be as one to veileth herself?
I am the first feminist
Likened to the glow of the moon
Lilith Luna, she roams
Any time anywhere and very soon
Director of destructive electric storms
To all who shall not escape the flames of fire
Her wistful wings fan the flames
My spirit shall be lifted nevermore only to enquire
Why I should be the one to veileth
herself, for I am Lilith
First woman on Earth
Scriptures declare that believers be true
to be faithful to Christ always in His way
being not unequally yoked to unbelievers
obeying God's word stand fast they would stay
Righteousness can't compare with lawlessness
it's totally opposite having nothing in common
just like back and white so colourfully distinct
remember your place not to be forgotten
A believers fellowship needs are akin
to those of similar likened taste
so that unity blends uniquely together
making your pilgrimage have no waste
The sweet communion of believers faith
be full of Christ's abundant light
giving no room for any darkness
making fellowship such precious sight
Believers need be equally yoked
filled with Christ's love for each one
enticing others of what's true love
be separate unto Christ God's son
(Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. For what partnership has righteousness with lawlessness? Or what fellowship has light with darkness? What accord has Christ with Belial? Or what portion does a believer share with an unbeliever? What agreement has the temple of God with idols? For we are the temple of the living God; as God said,
“I will make my dwelling among them and walk among them,
and I will be their God,
and they shall be my people.
Therefore go out from their midst,
and be separate from them, says the Lord,
and touch no unclean thing;
then I will welcome you,
and I will be a father to you,
and you shall be sons and daughters to me,
says the Lord Almighty.”)
2 Corinthians 6: 14-18 (ESV)