Best Looked Poems
Dear Mom,
I looked for you today.
I found you in the smell of coffee,
as I passed our favorite café.
I felt you in the cool breeze,
that traveled fiercely up my spine.
I put my face toward the sky
and found you in the warm sunshine.
I looked for you today,
but I didn't have to look far.
When I lifted my head up high,
I found you in the stars.
I will never stop looking,
because I know you're always around.
I know you have never left me,
you're just waiting to be found.
May 9, 2016
YOU LOOKED TOO DEEP
You looked too deep where no one's seen before
into the very deepest part of me
where hides my very breathing soul and more
I'd not allowed the world to even see.
You made your way right through my heart and mind
and opened doors I thought were locked up tight
through mazes quite complex that twist and wind
into what makes me tick, but out of sight.
The walls came tumbling down--you stripped me bare
between two heartbeats you came all the way
to see my greatest fear that trembled there
and then you let me know you wouldn't stay.
I sit and look out windows to no where
and think of all the nothing that is there.
© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
I Looked To Heaven That Christmas Night
What shall I do, cast far away my pen
Should wizen Cheshire cat stop its grin
Mighty Amazon stop its massive flow
I paint my Christmas scene devoid of snow
Nay, surrender poets must never do
Snap out of it, sling a new verse or two!
I once a grieving teen, found hope to write
After the shadow of death took a bite
And father went beyond the purple veil
Life fell into abyss, maddening hell
Years flowed past, a zombie I became
Fight the world, slay it was my morbid game!
Just before Christmas, our daughter was born
I saw life, love , hope- left behind my scorn
An angel, with blonde hair and sweet blue eyes
Gift divinely sent from heavenly skies
That very night, my pen spoke words to me
A treasure was given, now you are free!
Renewed the bond and joy again found
Oath to live, a poet honored bound
Given was again dearest saving light
I looked to Heaven that Christmas night
Nay, surrender poets must never do
Snap out of it, sling a new verse or two!
Robert J. Lindley, 12-20-2021
Rhyme, ( Based On A Life As Has Been Lived )
Dedicated to my beloved daughter
KaShaundra
Note:
These last few days, a gloom had came
I waded darkness, forgetting my name
In misery, I drank for sorrow's well
Was this world still here, I could not tell
I woke at dawn and saw a shred of light
Heard a stern voice say, rise thee up to fight
Give life a chance, are you not yet alive
Grab a pen and into poetry dive
Christmas is near, just a few days away
With that admonishment, I knelt to pray.
THE WAY HE LOOKED AT ME
The way he looked at me?
No particular expression
Strange dude
Strange only because of surroundings
We’d spoken before
A few words
Can’t recall what about
But now just now
The way he looked at me?
At me but right through me
One of those nebulous stares
Could have meant anything
That look?
Almost collegiate
Certainly with a collegiate air
Well how dare he!
I do recall how he walked about
Rarely a smile
He seemed to fit into the throng as though somehow towering
Somehow aloof
At a time like this one examines self – all the social graces –
Coming up with glaring negative respectabilities
How ridiculous these momentary speculations
Yet?
The way he looked at me?
I would rather have had words
Her eye’s looked out with smiles of love
That left my heart amazed.
In wooded graveyard high above
With Yew Trees we appraised.
We traced our roots that clawed the ground
In mind we felt the clay.
Of hearts and souls rose too profound
And toxins came our way.
In love the Yew’s are similar
So beautiful and true.
Beware the poison in their bark
That killed the dove that flew.
I looked off
Into great distance…
Little things
No longer distinguishable-
Those subtle differences
I could never name
Anyway,
Could never paint,
Stubbornly refusing
The prime of my colors,
Shapes and strokes
Of my pithy brush-
My mind a sieve
Of contours
And dripping questions
Muddied
In rivers of endless
Flowing debate…
It is here
At great distance,
Where topics come together
In a somewhat-blur,
Clearer for lack of
Definition,
Sort of like
Closing one's eyes to see more…
Or one's ears
To feel vibration
Of deception,
And sense true
Hearing inside,
And sound an honest
But dull imitator-
The real mystery of
Resonance-atmosphere
One it will never give up-
A jittering tease
Of provocative molecules…
It is here in distance
I come to retrieve myself-
That stick I long tossed
a time ago-
The reminder I placed
In a bottle
And pitched to sea
Way back when,
Now washed ashore
Seal intact-
Ink fresh as ever-
The near twinkle of glass
The same twinkle I sent
On its way…
It is here
In distance
That I find you near-
The macro
Out of the micro,
The world-speck,
Grown universal-
Sails
Not pointed up
Nor down
Nor out
But in-
To the here vastness,
The seal of self broken,
To be read fresh
Back from the dark of searching,
In new light
The star uncovered
I always had
And needed blinding to see…
This site is looked after by the cops
poets are drunk dopers
losers and boozers that never win
the cops are coming after the poets
they are checking names and records
and entering accusing words
while sitting and eating doughnuts
the cops are locking up the poets
drunkards druggies get rid of the dirt
cops are reading your poetry
taking aim at you
and child support
run run run hahaha
Limerick : Once a Nanny looked for a Manny/Mannie
Once a Nanny looked for a Manny
And found the father of her Kiddie
Poor Cuckold gave assent
With his Girlie’s consent
Now all five live in One Bliss House free.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Arise dead ones; the grave has been loosened,
It has been crumbled up, like a man crumbles up a dream.
I Looked into myself, to the emptiness that is me
A dream lies before me
My foot has crushed it and in anger I have buried it
I have closed myself to it
For a buried dream must not be looked upon
It must not be remembered,
It must not be spoken off
For in the eyes, in remembrance, in the word- the grave loosens it.
-one
love
i
have
looked in
every corner
through
every tide
both
far and wide
but
where
to look
for
love again
oh love
i
have
looked for
thee
inside
To: Mandy Jo
She called me her friend. She was one of the few.
She saw in me things that no one else knew.
I was backward and shy, a chess club bore.
I had tape on my glasses. Need I say more?
She was one of the “popular” kids at the school.
But she crossed the line, broke an unwritten rule.
Intrigued by her interest, seduced by her smile,
she freshened my outlook and polished my style.
She taught me to soar like an eagle would fly.
I gave her a shoulder when she needed to cry.
We promised that no matter where life would lead,
we’d always “come running” if ever in need.
She married a friend and moved far away.
Her homesick heart was begging to stay.
With nowhere to turn and no friends to find,
she created a place to escape in her mind.
With an inner-rebellion that raged deep inside,
she barely resembled that beautiful bride.
Her body was ravaged. A self-induced crime.
She’d withered away in such a short time.
She looked in the mirror and actually said,
“I’m so over weight. I wish I were dead.”
Prophetic words from the shell of a soul,
who engaged in a battle and lost all control.
As I ran down the hall to the emergency door,
a shake of his head said, “She’s with us no more.”
Anguish screamed out at this undeserved fate.
My promise was broken. I’d shown up too late.
I wanted to tell her but I was too scared.
I’d practiced the words that never were shared.
Why didn’t she stop? Why couldn’t she see?
Why didn’t I help her like she had helped me?
I saw in her things that no one else knew.
She called me her friend, but it wasn’t true.
In honor of Amanda Jo Abel (Carnegie)
Unfortunately, this is a true story of a very dear friend of mine. Anorexia is a devastating
and hard to understand disease. I do understand that there was nothing I could do, it doesn’t
help. The memories of her beautiful spirit does. Thanks Mandy, I’ll see ya' someday.
Sassy Irish lassie that is clear But I think too much green beer Teasing with the stripped clover All the fun and games are over Awoke to lose her charms, Oh Dear
unexpectedly
volcanoes spewed hot lava…
the end had begun
undersea earthquakes
produced many tsunamis…
life on land succumbed
then a meteor
destroyed the last plot of land…
Earth engulfed by sea
spirits were rising
all kind souls entered heaven…
and no one looked back
*Entry for the Armageddon – End of the World” contest.
I still remember the day -
first time she looked into me.
She was quite a beguiling beauty
enriched with miracles of nature.
Within a single look, a connection
was developed between us
as I was quite a charmer myself.
I enjoyed her company very much
as she frolicked in front of me
for hours with a blink of an interval
every now and then.
She was at the prime of her youth
and she knew how to draw attention
as if that was her only joy
to be the center of attraction.
She was always seeking opportunities
to exhibit her lovely self.
Soirees and celebrations were her life.
Soon after marriage
and giving birth to three children,
she drastically changed.
Most of the time she was worried
about getting old,
afraid of losing her luster
and she blamed me for it.
Her eyes would widen with rage
and dissatisfaction as she looked at me.
She started to spend a lot of money,
effort and time to regain
her youthful look with cosmetics.
Even the layers of make-up
didn't make her happy.
Her obsession to be eternally young
made her do a lot of strange things.
By the time she was fifty,
she lost her sanity.
One day out of disgust
she thwacked me down the wall.
Years of loyal service
and this is how she paid me back
by shattering me into pieces.
You see being a mirror,
I was only doing my job
by projecting her true reflection.
I'm not good with illusions at all.
It was her who couldn't help herself
accepting reality and nature's course.
Before I was dumped in the garbage,
her last words to me were -
"I shouldn't have looked into you."
04/21/2018
The soil and my wallet was exceedingly poor
Like building a house without any door
My garden needs flowers but nothing would grow
People were coming to visit the show
So I planted some pips looked like speckeldy seed
Compliments were flying as did those trumpeting bells
Just when I thought that no one could tell
" Sir this is not Beaumontia Grandiflora"
Said a nerdy old lady surrounded in aura
White flowers enhanced by the backdrop of green
Stopped oohs and aahs and the Parisienne perfume
" ..best looking Jamestown weed that I have ever seen"
Stuck like syrup on my fingers somewhat in between