Best Locations Poems


Premium Member Write

“Write I will – until my heart stops – when the pen from my hand finally drops.” by author

I write about love and the beautiful dance
between those who fall into sweet romance.

I write on my hobbies, on everyday things,
and the wonderful joy a special day brings.

I write even on every favorite food
that I like to eat and movies I’ve viewed!

I write about friends whose paths cross with mine,
who shine like the stars when our planets align.

I write about family, sisters so dear,
and loved ones departed who’d brought me great cheer.

I write my philosophies. Strange some might be.
But I write of them if they matter to me.

I write of my Lord’s most wondrous creations,
of seasides, and mountains, and other locations.

I write of my homeland with plains green and vast.
My memories of it forever will last.

I write about creatures, both wild and tame,
and each precious pet that I’ve given a name.

I write on the gifts with which I’ve been blessed
and on life experiences that I’ve loved best.

I write on my hardships and sometimes on pain
and dreams I now realize that I dreamed in vain.

I write many ways, most often in rhyme -
oftentimes humorous, sometimes sublime.

I write and I’ll write until my heart stops -
when from my hand my pen at last drops.

Premium Member Heart Spilling Blood

Written: February 5th, 2024
                  _____________________________________

My heart is leaking blood,
I can view hatred flowing,
from every corner of the planet,
a volcano spewing nasty lava,
their voracious acts are suffocating, 
the flower that has yet to bloom.

My heart is leaking blood,
antagonism and skepticism are rife,
a deadly snake is gently coiling,
and choke the breath of mankind,
to further their murderous impulses.

My heart is leaking blood,
since darkness invades the psyche,
steeped in narcissism and xenophobia,
a broken culture has misled people, 
into thinking differently over faith,
both ethnicity and attire face a threat,
In self-interest and as an adversary.

My heart is leaking blood,
a soul-to-mind debate has ceased,
lurking by avarice and false tenets, 
for the eminent aims of foes, 
cultures will spread, 
as history has predicted.

My heart is leaking blood,
In reply to the cruelty and abuse,
executed upon the cult's people,
despite being freed from rivals,
but have we freed our minds?

My heart is leaking blood,
to ignore these savage fringes,
who has infiltrated minds?
eating away the distinctive, 
need mind cleansing before locations,
restored successfully,
everyone must be a self-reformer, 
continually striving to be a dear person,
than they were before. 
the light within will always guide you; 
all you must do is listen and follow.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Food For Thought - With Chris Green

Lyrics start 0.05 - timed to the music

Pack your bags dear, there’s a Croc near
And he’s creeping, through the night
With his eye on - on our old stead dear
And it appears - we’re within his sight

You know when that Croc smiles - shows his teeth dear
Concrete jungles start to spread
Whips the grass from right under their feet dear
Scams now filling, each word he’s said

What no scruples you ask, well he ain’t got’em you should know
Seeks locations both, far and wide
Look he’s sneaking - sneaking down the alley
Is there no - place - left to hide

Another Archway, off the highway down the road
Golden handshakes, don’t go the mile
Men in black suits they make it all happen dear
Sanguine red soon, turns into bile

With our kids dear – it’s the buzz 'we gotta go'
Family meeting place, just come on down
Try these milk shakes - they're just like the real thing
And these burgers, the best in town

Bet you a fiver - oh that bun is barely fresh
Kids now falling sick - while their doctors frown
Green backs talking – they don’t give a nickel
Have our bags packed
‘Cause the Croc is
Look out Sneaky Croc is
 Sneaky Croc’s back
Back in town

EPILOGUE

Oh these outlets they keep spreading far and wide
In a hurry, they just can’t wait
Food so tasty, don’t you wonder ‘bout it all
No time to ponder it’ll make you late

Good old family name – so familiar dear
Look out folks for, deceit and lies
Another archway - around the corner
Now that Croc is stopping by
Look out OLD Croc is back

Footnote:
On our recent visit to Japan I noticed the proliferation of Fast Food outlets. It is such a pity to see a country that was once so fastidious with their traditionally healthy diets and that of their kids, changing their lifestyle and falling prey to corporate fast food giants.  Even the kids are now embracing this way of life. 
It’s sad to see traditional food outlets also losing their livelihood as the trend takes over. 

Acknowledgement:
My deepest appreciation to Chris Green on agreeing to spare some of his wonderful talent and collaborating with me to bring you this arrangement. 

Thank you so much Chris.

Copyright © Maria Williams & Chris Green | 3 June 2017


Little Ol' Me

I wish I could write
like those others before me,
Byron and Shelley and old Edgar Poe

Flowery phrases
Thy love unforgetting,
chasing a raven as ink tends to flow

Follow a sidewalk
in Silverstein footsteps,
sit neath a tree as the apples appear

Doth O’ my feelings
O’er Midsummer stanzas
Dream thee melodic as words of Shakespeare

Maybe some thoughts
in a past tense creation,
deeper in meaning like Sylvia Plath

Or Robert Frost
and the nature he touches,
meandering off through the trees down a path

Emily Dickinson,
aprons and daisies,
words overflowing the tea kettle rim

And let’s not forget
“The man”, Leonard Cohen,
what I would give if I could write like him

Neruda, Longfellow,
Kipling and cummings
so many thoughts in their own point of view

Taking our minds
to assorted locations
every piece speaks of something quite new

So many poets
who weave inspiration,
any or all I can just hope to be

But here I am
just writing my verses,
I guess I am stuck being little ol’ me



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



And here’s a few more,
some you might know
Who inspire all
when their ink it does flow

Charmaine, Paloma,
Heidi and Dee
Victor and Daniel
Catie, Laniey

Holly, Alexis,
Mystic and Rick
Maurice, The Seeker
Eve and Tim Smith

Arthur and Freddie
James, Jo and Jan
Nette, Laura Loo
Broken Wings, San

And so many others
I’ve met on this site
Who each day inspire
this poet to write

If I have forgotten anyone, I apologize. I am still quite new here.

Premium Member Halloween Night

Come with us Halloweening.
We’ll frolic in the streets.
We’ll race from house to house to house
Spouting  “Trick-or-Treats.”

And eagerly we’ll each collect 
Confections in a bag.
Fellow ghouls, we’ll abandon you
If you even start to lag!

No slackers in OUR party
As we dash from door to door. 
Unlit locations far removed
Instinctively we ignore.

Our goal: to get all we can hold
This wickedly winsome night,
This “Hallowed Eve” of children’s dreams
For fancy and delight.

A time that kids’ imaginings 
Collectively take flight
In form of costumes of all kinds-
Of whimsy and of  fright.

For Dale and I, that’s part of the fun,
But even better yet
Is what we’ve counted the days off  FOR-
The bounty we’re going to get!

And through the dark we onward dart.
Watch as we trespass
People’s lawns, but yards with dogs
We cleverly bypass. 

And when we need to go back home
To get more paper sacks,
We drop off  treats we’ve got so far,
Then quickly double back. . . 

Until we’ve covered every block
Of every foreknown spot
That  we had ever frequented
And some that we had not!

Then good and late we homeward speed
With just a little dread,
For darkened windows greet us
And most folks have gone to bed.

We throw our candies on the floor,
So much there is to eat!
We count each chewy chocolate bar,
Each popcorn ball and sweet.

We toss out raisins, apples,
Tiny suckers, silly fruit,
Or give them to our siblings
Who received too little loot.

Then off to bed, our day complete,
We dream of how we’ll feast
Each day with glee, while savoring
Our treasury of treats.

For the Halloween Night Poetry Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron

Poor Eyesight

Have you ever woke up in a rush,
  And realized you couldn’t see.
You look in your usual spots,
  And think where could they be?

I always put them right here,
  But where did I place them last night.
All I know is that it’s hard to find,
  A pair of glasses with poor eyesight.

I have searched my entire room,
  And my glasses are gone.
Now my cluttered room is a mess,
  I must have slept with them on.

You throw stuff around and ransack
  Possible locations in your head. 
Then like nothing ever happened,
  There they are right under the bed.


Premium Member Exasperation Over Expectations

Today’s students strive only to meet expectations
We used to go all out to exceed expectations
Young people have no real goals, just vague destinations
Their minds seem to be set on low-level vibrations
 
Our young people seem to lack worthy aspirations
Discouraged teachers are left with exasperation
With weapons in schools they must avoid confrontations
And keep a close eye on escape route locations
 
These kids can’t even hold meaningful conversations
Or do the simplest mathematic calculations
Their free time is spent in video game fixations
A "C" or a "D" harvests little indignation
 
Teachers get no support from school administrations
Even when students fail final examinations
These unmotivated kids have few variations
They only want to slide by and meet expectations
 
One day these children will be running corporations
Or choosing how governments make appropriations
It’s frightening when you consider the implications
For our world's future, I have angst-filled expectations



* For Paula's "Meeting Expectations" contest

Premium Member Smart and Final Prose

Daylight fades, a city pulsates, and traffic is reflected in store windows.  
Hurrying headlights come out of the darkness. 
They crisscross like dueling knights.  People in the crosswalk scamper 
as if squirrels and streetlights leer gleaming yellow eyes, like watchful hawks.
The shrill trumpets of the charging gale force winds, rattle an awning,
and newly planted maple saplings bend and sway 
in random pairs.  Set in concrete planters, they hang on by tender rooted toes. 
Pages of a discarded newspaper are hurled into the air, 
buoyed on the steely breath of a frigid winter evening.  
Several leaflets scatter into the street and down the sidewalk,
into the path of one lone pedestrian.
He slaps away the sports page, that flies into his chapped, red face. 
Without hesitation, this castaway vagrant, down and out 
by the rape of hard times, will accept an offered dime,
from a passing man in a Red Sox ball cap. 
Head bent low, face hidden, a worn and dirty pea coat
pulled tightly around his thin frame, he carries all his meager belongings
in a large paper grocery bag, wrinkled and beginning to tear. 
Serving as his satchel, the brown bag, damp and worn, 
still displays big bold red and black letters 
advertising "Smart and Final Grocery"--"Located in Three Convenient Locations".
A city bus roars by, splashing through three days of rain, 
and a siren and a blaring horn is heard from the next block. 
The dark silhouetted outcast, stops for a moment, 
peers into a sidewalk trash receptacle, then continues slowly down the sidewalk.
A taxi pulls up along the curb behind him, and the attractive couple, 
dressed in evening wear, emerge, pay for their taxi, and arm in arm, 
enter Mario's Italian Restaurant, the brick bistro 
that sits on the corner of Broadway and 1st. 
It begins to rain again, and across the street people open umbrellas 
and like the afore mentioned squirrels, they scurry home to supper.
The lone man walks in the rain, his pace doesn't quicken, his voice never spoken, 
a spirit broken, ............ his sack held together by circumstance. 
A passerby takes a brief glance...just a quick, chanced moment, 
to take notice of "Smart and Final's" last stance.

Premium Member My Dream Date

My dream date would have to be romantic.
I’m thinking of a long cruise out to sea
with stop-overs at beautiful locations
and with a man with eyes for only me.

My dream date would have to be in summer
so we could lie in leisure in the sun,
sand beneath our feet and playing handsies.
Then on the cruise ship having lots of fun.

My dream date will just remain a dream.
How romantic can my old man get?
He would never set foot on a cruise ship.
Has time travel been invented yet?

Feb. 5, 2023
For Anoucheka Gangabissoon's My Dream Date Poetry Contest

Can Or Can'T Relate

6/8/17


A world full of different colors and shapes
As well as apes
Locations that do or don't sell crepes
Vines with or without grapes
Houses with dark or light drapes
That do or don't have cassettes and video tapes
Near and far from any capes
Surfaces continually getting more scrapes

Each having their own plate
A smile on everyone's face
While one said grace
By a fireplace
Flower vase
And curtains made of lace
Soon everyone took a taste
Then said it was a great
Especially the steak
Later on, all had dessert, which was home-made cake


It's all good if you can't relate
To anything I state
Or paint
A life that is quaint
Currently got no complaints
I ain't
No saint
A lot of things took restraint

Didn't want to let it go to waste
Couldn't always play it safe
Wasn't always worth the risk, and what I happened to make
I can't afford to take a break
Or flake and be late
That'd be more than a mistake


People being honest or fake and like a snake
There's always going to be love and hate

I do more than educate
But hold up wait
Let's get one thing straight
Drake
You were on Degrassi, and I'll put you into your place
See through, not opaque
Soft as a pancake
Grab, pull and throw you out your wraith

I don't care how much your being paid
You can catch a fade

Premium Member You Weren'T Home

I came to your door last night
but you weren’t home
bursting with anticipation
dreams, memories to share
bouquet of wildflowers
plucked from that path near the meadow
but you weren’t home

wanted to confess my ardor
peruse photos of exotic locations
kindle connection
embrace you with arms and words
admit how long this attraction has nurtured
but you weren’t home

should I return tonight
when full moon ignites passions
lovers worldwide snuggle, dance, 
bond beneath a Milky Way of sequin stars
will your lips grant entry
or would I turn away once more 
because you weren’t home



*20 lines

The Secret of Time

THE SECRET OF TIME

It’s the curve of the rail
It’s the bend in the road
It’s the unlifted veil 
It’s the way yet unstrode

That are drawing me on
To pursue the concealed
On a path whither, yon
To what may be revealed

Though there’s joy to be felt
Friends, locations provide
In the known places dwelt
Giving warmth deep inside

I embrace the unknown 
On this bare blessed field
While the seeds may been sown
We await future’s yield

As we seek to know all
Of what is and shall be
Driven on by the call
Of deep curiosity

In the cycle of life 
That must come to a close
Truth revealed? end of strife?
The great questions are posed

As our story is told
With each passing clock chime
Could it be this unfold
Is the secret of time?

Premium Member - Bahamas and Bananas -

In wait for spring, snow is falling
Escape to the idyllic islands of Bahamas

Create your own adventure, the palette is ready
Framed by a gorgeous, mesmerizing blue sea

Eating a banana can lighten your mood
Soft and lovely coral sand, a pink sunset

Get away from the cold and explore new exotic locations
Many hidden gem to discover, just ask Christopher Columbus










02.03.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
(unrhymed couplets)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Paint a Picture With Your Mind

Paint a picture with your mind
Dust out your cluttered head
Close the outer eye and open 
Imagination’s keenest eye within

See now grassy hills that rise and fall
See the crisp blue stream that winds along
Now the downy clouds reflected in
The water far below its floating waves

Hear the sparrow as he trills his song
Crisply over lofty trees of fir
Listen as the brook sings back the tune
Of sparrow’s joyous song of sweet refrain

Never would one be alone if when
Creativity takes him such a place
He could see and hear and touch and taste
The joys which offered elsewhere can be his

If only in his mind’s eye, he can go
Locations that his fancied thoughts would fly
Nowhere is beyond limit for him,
Whose inventions take such grandiose flight





(This is a re-post)

Premium Member My Son - My Lovely Child

I held you in my arms for the very first time,
Elated my son was perfect, he was simply sublime.

New life that I had pushed into the world, 
Precious baby, oh how my emotions whirled.

With light blonde hair and eyes of blue
I fell in love the very second I saw you

Home from hospital, oh how our lives changed
Took its toll on us - our sleep pattern rearranged!

It is quite challenging getting used to being a new mum
I wouldn’t have changed a moment with my precious son

Everyday you flourished I was amazed how quickly you grew
Crawling, walking ,talking there was always something new

I was very lucky and didn’t get the baby blues
You were so adorable, didn’t have the terrible twos

You adored reading books and sitting next to me
Friends would come to visit and you’d play happily

You slept with your teddy he was called ‘Blue’
We had a duplicate teddy...but you never knew!

How quickly the years passed, oh how time flies
It’s over twenty years since I sang you lullabies

From toddler to teenager you were our pride and joy
I am truly blessed to have such an amazing boy

At school you thrived and passed your qualifications
Then worked in computers, traveling to far off locations

Now you are away from home studying for your degree
When you graduate the proudest mum in the world will be me!

You fill our lives with laughter and joy,
I love you so much my wonderful boy.

Contest: My Lovely Child
Sponsor: LuLoo
02~09~16

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