Best Lour Poems
It is for sure, not springtime here
Shorter days now how bare His trees.
And looking back draws eyes to tear
For waste and loss of all my greed.
To sail the seas and not return
My ship sinks in the straight of dire.
Its keel has split, its hull to burn,
A spark to start my driftwood fire.
My greed will feed this driftwood fire.
Heap high this waif to be no loss.
No wisdom from my follies liar
Burn high! Oh! Burn you holocaust.
My ship of dreams I build no more
Fragments be hacked my vain desire
To toss like trash and be ignored
Upon my filthy, driftwood fire.
Self-indulgence fed driftwood fire
Now as to turn from what it seems
Left to me a works of priers
Never to sail my ship of dreams.
I pondered from my window long
Fanning my passion ever higher.
I cursed His name to sing my song,
A blast to stoke this driftwood fire.
Arrogance torched this driftwood fire.
Let my sins perish with my ships.
To right my wrongs I now aspire.
So let them burn without my kiss.
Resurrecting souls dreams have killed
To pull myself from deep quagmire.
And warm my heart which time has chilled.
Remorse now fuels my driftwood fire.
Self-pride will feed my driftwood fire.
These cords of which I gladly burn
Dreams or follies of mud are mire
No loss to me and no concern.
I've heard the sirens song too long
Uncharted seas with sails which tire.
With all my dreams and fancies gone
Let crackling rings my driftwood fire.
Steam hisses from this driftwood fire.
Stream's me toward sweet isles of peace
Bright flash and gleam of my attire
Shall fall in lour of my decease.
For fortuned Isles my eyes have cryed.
My dreams I leave to whom I sire
I'm cremated before I die
Consumed within this driftwood fire.
Upon my filthy, driftwood fire
When in my grave I take my task
Point for my Lord my vain desires
As chilled ember and cooling ash.
Categories:
lour, faith, me, loss, loss,
Form:
Quatrain
As death creeps out of the darkness,
A mother becomes the rope in a (Tug of war.)
A child reaches to help its’ mother in her weakness,
And stares death in the eye with abhor.
The rope falls limp in sure defeat,
Yet the child pulls on the strength of heart.
Against the evilness and deceit,
Fighting with the will to not be apart.
The hooks of death on weary knees,
Shackling the arms, exposing vulnerability.
Screaming and crying the words of “please”
The mother rests with peace and tranquility.
A child left to battle life’s groans,
Preparing for the encounter and all its’ lour.
For one day she will meet Mr. Bones,
And she’ll be the rope in her child’s (Tug of war.)
__________________________________________________________
Inspired by Brian’s Picture Poem’s Contest
Käthe Kollwitz, Death and the Woman (Tod und Frau), lithograph, 1910.
http://www.mmoca.org/mmocacollects/artwork_page.php?id=31
Categories:
lour, art, death, lifemother, child,
Form:
Ekphrasis
Who were those hoodlum, who wanted thy do lour ,
thou were revered by all the classes , honored by only colors' ,
thou ruled the entire family of the galleys , who looked like the great Hercules ,
who had a large amount of strength , whose strength was impenetrable .
Oh my great - Titanic , thou were the stage on which many lovers passed by,
those lovers who enjoyed their voyage dancing "Hula", which made thee more intensify,
there was a Capella sang by the silent water , which gave color to the entire dance ,
where have thy beauty gone , which have left us back alone , giving no further glance .
It was not thy carelessness , but the carelessness of thy master ,
thy master - underwent enjoying lashings , never thought the approaching disaster ,
in spite of loosing hubris , thou had been praised by all ,
nevertheless it was passable , but thy lifespan had become less and small.
Whom would I like to draw the blunder , for they were also in love with thy splendor ,
thy luxury would result winning bountiful amount of hearts , counting those spirits leaving the globe without blunder ,
I seek pardon to my dearest sweetheart , for my humble tears could sail thy gorgeous carcass ,
I have to get rid of all those pains , by crafting thy beauty to the late mausoleum grass .
I kept dreaming for thy creative beauty , but beauty never thought for my dreams ,
my thoughts try reaching the sun , but thy imagery covers all the sun beams ,
I promise to build a minster for thee , where my dreams and thoughts idolize thy existence ,
the minster would pray the poetic words of mine , never allow my mind-set reveal thy grieve disappearance !
Categories:
lour, absence, dedication, depression, dream,
Form:
Free verse
Like dark chocolate,
She is my favorite.
A redefined taste of perfection and originality,
An embodiment of beauty,
Not in some quantity,
But with endowed with plenty and quality.
Dark creamed co lour,
Enchanter with a pleasant oozing odor,
Giving her epicures an experience
Of absolute brilliance.
O! She is like a unique sample,
Her lips are very tasty samples.
The sun gives her skin a sparky shine,
Like the gold of king Solomon mines.
A bit of her lips are like pure honey.
The feel of her skin is more desirable than money
She is black and beautiful
Her beauty is so edible.
As her looks implies.
She is a beauty simplified
In a complex sense that can not be decipher.
She is a beauty that is a miracle
She is black and beautiful...
Categories:
lour, art, beauty, beauty,
Form:
Free verse
What gives you the right to hate me? Just because my skin is not white.
Do you think our blood isn't the same co lour? Red
We may not look alike, we may not believe in the same things. What makes us are beautiful
things. So don't hate on me because i look different from you.
God see's no colour, he loves us all the same.
Stop playing the race hate game. Down with your campaign to hate. 'An all white Britain' is
what you want. How boring life would be if we all were the same.
God see's no colour, he loves us all the same.
So stop the hatred and live side by side. Theres no place in the world for racism anymore.
Categories:
lour, lifehate, hate, may,
Form:
Like dark chocolate,
She is my favorite.
A redefined taste of perfection and originality,
An embodiment of beauty,
Not in some quantity,
But with endowed with plenty and quality.
Dark creamed co lour,
Enchanter with a pleasant oozing odor,
Giving her epicures an experience
Of absolute brilliance.
O! She is like a unique sample,
Her lips are very tasty samples.
The sun gives her skin a sparky shine,
Like the gold of king Solomon mines.
A bit of her lips are like pure honey.
The feel of her skin is more desirable than money
She is black and beautiful
Her beauty is so edible.
As her looks implies.
She is a beauty simplified
In a complex sense that can not be decipher.
She is a beauty that is a miracle
She is black and beautiful...
Categories:
lour, art, beauty, beauty,
Form:
Free verse
Someday the spring will be ours
Someday loves dice will fall for sure
Some summer when time waits to lure
Our hearts to find just the right hours.
No brook shall steal away the flowers
Nor dirty spring waters pure.
Someday the spring will be ours
Someday loves dice will fall for sure.
Fascination becomes the tour
For springs trumpets are not lour.
We quietly search the towers
Where first we discovered allures.
Someday the spring will be ours.
{Rondel form}
Categories:
lour, love, seasonsspring, spring,
Form:
The sky of strong blue as it dims at dusk,
that I shall in no way look at the same.
A new start in rich, pure, salt scent may claim
the heart of the sea, both wild and calm musk.
By dawn, close and dear lure the sun kissed shores
and when I feel, the fair breast of an hour,
of the wide world I stand lone, and may lour
the tours that laze and taste the out of doors.
Gone far in the hushed land down the rock cliffs
to cold surf, fish safe in tide pools true sight.
Feel the winds change in the pick of hush night;
the soul's high and low show of the waves riffs.
Love the raw grace of the land and surfs, falls,
arts, taste of the past and now, its calm calls.
9/26/2019
Categories:
lour, image, love, nature, ocean,
Form:
Sonnet
Are British Politicians a Little Potty?
At the end of Faust Part Two
Goethe wrote something most true.
The eternal lies in things of time,
the stone you throw, the mount you climb.
the little bird that chirps and sings,
the honey bee that flies and stings
This logic, to its end pursued,
the British teapot must include.
A teaspoonful per person tot,
but, don't forget: one for the pot!
Boiling water then pour in,
Tepid water, 'twere a sin.
Now you let the teapot 'stand,'
or else the taste you'll get is bland.
but let no other danger lour
by waiting more than half an hour.
Soaked too long tea leaves release
what may disturb your stomach's peace.
Persistence, up to a point, does good
Beyond that point you're stuck in a wood.
Categories:
lour, drink, symbolism,
Form:
Couplet
WARNING, this may not be to your taste about hunting paedophiles and keeping kids safe,,
we are hunters from around the world,
looking out for our boys and girls,
keeping them safe when there on line,
trying to protect them all of the time,
there is admins and decoys and trackers to,
these groups look out for you,
the job is hard but very safe,
they chase the paedophiles to keep kids safe,
predators come in all shapes and forms,
they try entice young girls and boys,
taking time they lour kids in,
that,s when the much starts to begin,
the decoys do a very hard job,
there on line punting up with this lot,
predators think there a kids,
that,s the start when hunting begins,
smutty talk and being crude,
no child should Indore to what they do,
the predators also say there a child,
trying to be friends for a while,
they the paedophiles start to making there move,
this is the things they start to do,
but there really not very smart,
as the decoys well know that,
the teams gather what information they can,
this is where it takes time,
getting everything ready to sort them out,
then they chase them hunting them out,
with all the teams that work this way,
keeping kids safe today,
these smutty talks and filthy chats,
all the evidence gathered as much as they can,
then the teams phone the police,
but being calm and keep the piece,
showing on videos to make parents aware,
that these people might be near,
going to court on a set date,
getting the paedophile sent away,
this is all the team wants,
keeping kids safe from this evil lot,
why do they do it we never understand,
loads of paedophiles are also married men,
they have kids of there own,
when the teams confront them the groomers loose the lot,
hope you may read this and understand,
checking kids devices to keep a safe hand,
the teams all do there very best,
to make paedophiles life,s come to an end,
with them all being in jail,
this is why we can not fail,
praise the teams on what they do,
as there the teams looking out for you,,,,
Categories:
lour, abuse, appreciation, child abuse,
Form:
Free verse
Something is coming
We are freezing
Days when we want to do everything
But all we can do is that studying and nothing
After reading exam paper we feel muzzy
And before reading it we feel buzzy
Our minds din
Then we pin
Everything seems lour
But we have to create pour
Wish it could be a strike lab
So we would have become scab
I am afraid they are coming
We are freezing
I pray to those exam days
Please go easy on us
Categories:
lour, books, childhood, children, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
Song for Ballyheigue
County Kerry, Ireland
Twig fire limn
eight fairy
in a lour cave mouth
Four of whom
a tabor thrum
Four of whom
breathe zephyr
through wee fife
All of whom
leap star,
the joy of life.
All of whom
sing lark,
the yet to come
Donal Mahoney
Categories:
lour, fantasy
Form:
Lyric
Is a tree wrong because it leans?
Or is a tree wrong because it is not green
So you tell me what co lour it’s suppose
Too be?
We have to walk in a way talk in a way
Head up high and back straight
Don’t smile to hard cause your not
Really awake being under the
Spell of what the government has
To make
Oh look his shining but really inside his
Dieing
In a circle of a family everyone has
To be as one you try to step out
And you’re classed as wrong
Say too much and you’re classed
As mad and you need to be locked up
But insert of them giving you an ear
They per fur to give you a glair
See a man with a new whip
Insert of asking where he got it you
Per fur to BANG!
And that it!
That’s it not just for him but
For his mum and the woman that
Is carrying his unborn son
In roots, when kuntaka heard
The sounds of the drum he don’t run to
Freedom
He stays with his family and he had to be strong
But in god he prayed that one day his family will
See a better day
Family is a community!
So let us all have a dream that one day are
Community could be clean
Clean of the guns and the drugs
That’s killing us one by one
So I pray for each and every one is soul
So god could make us all whole
And let are feelings just roll
Because you’re not pulling does’t mean
That you’re not killing us one by one
So when we see each other lets
Us be nice and greet your neighbor with a smile
And let god just shine!
Categories:
lour, black african american, education,
Form:
Lyric
Once upon a dry and sunny day,
My head I rest, and on the bad I lay
Thinking of the one true question…
What that is, I just will not mention.
Drifting asleep I vision with grace,
An angel, wrapped in marvelous lace.
Closing in from beneath, I try to touch,
She disappears, probably went to lunch.
Floating on the clouds so soft and silky,
But suddenly, everything becomes blurry.
Falling to the ground I awaken and stare to the floor,
Pondering what the angel represented, was it a lour?
Was she a vision of love, or embodiment of betrayal?
Thinking, lost in my own thoughts, I became frazzle.
Didn’t seem worth the time, so I got out of the bed,
Just so I could be grabbed, by a dark, frightening head.
For I was not awakened by the fall, it was temporary
Again I plundered towards the black deeps so eerie.
The head, who took a grip at me, laughed and let go,
Freefalling I fell, but where, to Hell, please God, No!
Demons and dragons, devils and the big black Cerberus,
Everything present, everyone laughing, realizing thus
That I have become one of the damned, another one fallen,
Down in the pit, away from home, furthest from heaven.
Seeking freedom I wonder meaningless the dark bottom,
But it’s futile: I can’t see where the light is coming from.
Why hath Thee send me down here to rot, decay and suffer,
Why hath Thee sent an angel to lure me here, why her?
Why couldn’t Thee just cast me down, and leave her be,
Why can’t I get her out of my head, why do You hate me?
Categories:
lour, death, philosophy, me, angel,
Form:
Rhyme
Poison ivy’s ruby kiss
Strip all the ink away
Do away with her kiss; ivy.
Ivy’s kiss still stings
clings to a heart that’s inked deep
deeply rooted ivy- spicy leaves…
leaves her mark on a trifling bum.
A bum brim full of hot air teases
kisses out of icy ivy, earns a rash.
A rush of Ivy’s ruby kisses stings
clings to his heart, inked deep
weep away her kiss, ivy, he tries!
denies he still cares: eyes stinging
Stringing her along- rather coyly
another oily tongue that love bombs Ivy
envy not it’s frolics in ivy seas.
See, Ivy wears her poison like an armour
Dour ego: Ivy seized its crown.
down in the dumps it stays
bays all day long, tongue wrung out
strung out, just deserts he gets
he regrets spitting at ivy seas.
See, Ivy wears her poison like an armour…
sour lour is a ruby kissed clown
Down in the dumps lives the clown.
Categories:
lour, emotions, hurt, kiss, relationship,
Form: