Best Maneuvered Poems
While walking amongst an angry crowd,
trying to escape the turmoil surrounding me,
Hope appeared. I took her arm;
She guided me through the chaos.
In the sea of mayhem, we were separated, I lost sight of her.
Frantic and overwhelmed; dizzy with the shifting of the crowd,
a small opening appeared; I maneuvered my way towards it.
As I stumbled, the opening changed direction;
an exit pattern laid out before me.
Focusing on the exit, I realized I had not lost Hope,
she was clearing the way for me.
With the roar of the crowd behind me,
Hope and Peace stood before me.
Originally written: June 2016 for Paula Dyer after the tragic loss of her husband, John Dyer.
Date: Jan. 7, 2022 entered in Brian Strand Poetry Contest
Placed 1st in contest
Date: Feb. 3, 2022 entered in Hope Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mohan Chutani
Placed 3rd in contest
Categories:
maneuvered, anxiety, hope, inspiration, peace,
Form:
Free verse
A GIFT
You've given me
a piece of your soul
inside a sunken brown envelope
written handle with care
as if I was born heavy-handed.
You've telescoped
my soul once more
in its caravan
on a mountain slope
stooped by a bulky backpack.
It's good you've frozen
that portion of my long journey
I could have missed the sun
just because I stooped too low
that I could only see my heavy footsteps.
I've always known
when I unwrap your love
with my crystal-pure letter opener
I've trapped a powerful force
that allows me to forge ahead
with its timely smiles.
what I just received
is static showcase of a dynamic love!
NOW I KNOW
Now I know
you covered yourself
in coming to me
for I was too green
to know myself
that outgrows my form.
I am sorry
if I hated anything
that didn't speak
my unfulfilled language
though what it attempted
was to enrich it and my world.
You spoke my language
nonetheless
and maneuvered me
into marching
to my inner heart.
How could I resist
from following
strangely familiar footprints
to a wide lawn home
almost forgotten
in the dark smoke
of my activities.
WHY YOU
Could it be
That my footprints
Have lead me
To meet and see you as beautiful?
I could have seen you
any other else
If these noise
would have stopped crowding
about my sensitive ear.
Maybe I was formed
To see you as I do
And there's no way
To be otherwise.
Or if there is
It could be a slim probability
I could not wait
For time to unwrap
Your true worth
For I have my heart
Filled with pregnant rose
And to wait a little longer
Would mean forever.
It could be
that you are an eclectic
of personalities
that lighted my footprints
or, perhaps, watered them with tears.
in my case I chose you
and that's a footprint hard to erase!
Dalila Agtani
Categories:
maneuvered, love
Form:
Free verse
The Painful Facts
The nervous system originates in the brain.
Nerves send and receive signals to feel pleasure, fear or pain.
A baby’s diaper rash causes crying, pain and suffering,
Her torment needs attention , care and buffering,
She is so sensitive to pain, as were you and I ,
The slightest discomfort caused us to cry.
But because this is pain we can not now recall,
It does not mean we didn’t experience it all,
The nervous system is developed in Mom’s womb long before birth,
Of course, most people know this fact, for what it’s worth,
Why else does the babe instinctively move away,
When the medical probe is maneuvered her way?
She does not know the terms “women’s rights“, “choice” and “abortion”,
As she is killed, screaming in a fear and pain filled contortion,
But that baby’s pain simply doesn’t matter in this world of darkened lights,
She missed the boat when the flag unfurled for choice and women’s rights.
Dear child, you are just not old enough to be without pain and fear,
You see, we have too many excuses times one million a year.
May God buffer your pain my little friends when your shortened time is through,
And forgive your Moms and Dads for we may or may not know what we do.
And ask God to have mercy on us self blinded pretend Christians too,
As we vote for politicians who promote killing your siblings and you.
Dedicated to Chantel
This is a repost of the poem written 5/01/2010 in answer to a charge that babies don't feel pain anyway so it's okay to abort them.
The news today 4/17/2012 (AP news) reports that the fetal pain abortion law which recently came about in three states because of the scientific proof that unborn babies do feel pain is now under attack because people want to kill the little ones anyway in spite of their proven torture.
Perhaps some day our society will become civilized and history will reveal these acts for the barbarianism that it indeed is. Until then let's keep praying for our youngest most vulnerable minority friends.
Apparently now, Jan in the year 2019, States like New York have opted to let go of civilization altogether and drown their laws with paganism and child sacrifice. Lord God have mercy on us !? or not?
-Robert A. Dufresne
PS.
ET TU VERMONT ? FEB 20 2019
Categories:
maneuvered, holocaust,
Form:
Rhyme
As a pilgrim* in this enigmatic world
granted freedom for wondrous exploration
I’ll journey along life’s varied avenues, or highways
cognizant of rough roads, valleys, and even hills to trek
trusting my God, the perfect Guide toward streets of gold.
My soul I’ll yield with submission
for triumphant driving of the Holy Spirit’s power
maneuvered by clear directions for kindness' gesture
while consulting the Scriptures, divine compass and map
pleading the Lord to help me overcome the wanderer’s snares.
I’ll fly with Christ in my goals
achieving for His glory and honour
fastening my desires to His sovereign purpose
soaring above earthly gains to seek what’s eternal
propelled by His guidance to rise above clouds of doubt’s turbulence.
Sailing against tempests
I’ll travel with my faith’s Captain, Jesus
anchored upon His steadfast truth and love
fighting selfishness-piracy; winning over apathy
for worthy reaching-out voyage, indeed blissfully blessed.
Midst pilgrimage
toward the celestial
I'll enjoy sojourning moments
sharing compassion and peace of the Almighty
with fellow voyagers who seek to arrive well, hurdling rigorous trips.
*1Peter 2:11 Dearly beloved, I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul.
January 6, 2021
3rd place, "My Spiritual Journey" Premier Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker; judged on 1/10/2021.
Categories:
maneuvered, blessing, christian, faith, god,
Form:
Free verse
The nervous system originates in the brain.
Nerves send and receive signals to feel pleasure, fear or pain.
A baby’s diaper rash causes crying, pain and suffering,
Her torment needs attention , care and buffering,
She is so sensitive to pain, as were you and I ,
The slightest discomfort caused us to cry.
But because this is pain we can not now recall,
It does not mean we didn’t experience it all,
The nervous system is developed in Mom’s womb long before birth,
Of course, most people know this fact, for what it’s worth,
Why else does the babe instinctively move away,
When the medical probe is maneuvered her way?
She does not know the terms “women’s rights“, “choice” and “abortion”,
As she is killed, screaming in a fear and pain filled contortion,
But that baby’s pain simply doesn’t matter in this world of darkened lights,
She missed the boat when the flag unfurled for choice and women’s rights.
Dear child, you are just not old enough to be without pain and fear,
You see, we have too many excuses times one million a year.
May God buffer your pain my little friends when your shortened time is through,
And forgive your Moms and Dads for we may or may not know what we do.
And ask God to have mercy on us self blinded pretend Christians too,
As we vote for politicians who promote killing your siblings and you.
God bless you Chantel.
This is a repost of the poem written 5/01/2010 in answer to a charge that babies don't feel pain anyway so it's okay to abort them.
The news today 4/17/2012 (AP news) reports that the fetal pain abortion law which recently came about in three states because of the scientific proof that unborn babies do feel pain is now under attack because people want to kill the little ones anyway in spite of their proven torture.
Perhaps some day our society will become civilized and history will reveal these acts for the barbarianism that it indeed is. Until then let's keep praying for our youngest most vulnerable minority friends.
-Robert A. Dufresne
Categories:
maneuvered, caregiving, daughter, life, people,
Form:
Couplet
"Reality is something you rise above."
-Liza Minelli
RISE ABOVE
Judy, darling, teach me to pray -
your arms wrapped around my teeth,
so white, pristine. . .
I’ll take my bows,
my arms maneuvered by strings,
my waist meticulously child-size, bends.
My mother was ten feet tall...
My mother ain’t nothing at all...
except her majestic voice,
her time on a barber-chair stage.
Liza, darling, teach me to pray -
my dreams of playing all day.
Popping pills is our skill -
it kills the time,
helps me rewind.
Oh sweet child of mine,
lay your head on my lap -
face the audience.
now, sing...
Liza marries the chair,
snaps her garter on,
personality charms her velvet hat,
spreads wide her sexy black boots
and belts out a tune
as she floats, far away from reality…
2/24/2020
She Inspires Series - LM Poetry Contest
Sponsor is Maureen McGreavy
Categories:
maneuvered, image,
Form:
Free verse
Just a poetic (souper) side note courtesy chief
wordsmith brother unaware ye experienced grief
diagnosed as walking pneumonia please bull lief
yours me, he doth care and breathes sigh of relief.
Gratis the miracle of modern medicine wife
of Richard McGeehan, he offered succor
during serious bout when ye suffered strife
lovingly tendering lifelong counterpart
spelling finis regarding any galavanting nightlife
nurturing mother of their grown son (Brendan),
who immersed her whole self as housewife.
How aware ill luck of the draw
found thee inexplicably stricken
with serious malady against the law
nearly necessitating travois
(maneuvered by Kit Carson)
to transport thee to medical center.
The above stanza unbeknownst to you
analogous to current reading material
myopic eyes of mine view
historical fiction titled
"A Most Desperate Situation"
authored by Walter Cooper,
I just might maintain as keepsake
among various and sundry other books
lined up like soldiers upon shelved queue.
Courtesy perusing selective material
not so much to become boastful
self pedagogical ace,
but merely to expand knowledge base,
whereby latest erudition
preoccupies mindscape with displace
called realm of imagination
allowing, enabling, and providing me
to travel into hyperspace
only welcoming family members
like thee dear sister into myspace
a beloved sibling
thirteen plus months older
glad ye got begat December 1st, 1959
whereby ye got fifty two plus weeks headstart
to join (chance throw of genetic dice)
entrance into human race.
Though Amelie Beth Harris-McGeehan born
more than three score and three years ago
if series of unfortunate events would befall thee,
this sole brother would certainly mourn
and with futility emasculate and scorn
himself until... his own plaque
designating his buried cremains
in lieu of tombstone worn.
Categories:
maneuvered, angst, blessing, brother, december,
Form:
Rhyme
"Noli Me Tangere"--Ode to Anne Boleyn
Beguiling and strong willed,
Thick hair and black eyes--
Average beauty at best--
Maneuvered Court, so skilled
(Though taunted by their lies)
The King you put to test.
Oh, dear Anne Boleyn!
You chose not your fate.
'Twas your father's sins:
Greed would not abate
His ambitious yens.
So, Queen you were--
Amid the hate--
The peoples' cur;
King's sonless mate
Bearing one
Queen to be
Of England's
Future
'Golden
Age'.
~deborah burch©
07/02/2012
Categories:
maneuvered, history, tribute,
Form:
Diminished Hexaverse
Our Sid felt well-jaded
his sweat, it cascaded
he feared the end was well-nigh
his head was a-pounding
a hush ultra-sounding
he all but stared death in the eye
Steadily declining
whinging and whining
to the good wife, who had a short thread
she saw a good chance
eyed him askance
said: I'll book you a hospital bed
Afore rushed to hospital
sweated and spittled
he eyed her boobies in double-D vision
for sure he'd have flown
had he but known
he'd been booked for a quick circumcision
Foreshortened but sharper
wooed by nurse Harper
he contemplated suing for cash
with his wired-up jaw
he sipped through a straw
animal innards and veg pulped to mash
Nurse Harper, aflame
with nary no shame
tended his uncalled-for member renewal
she was drooling and crooning
and dream'ly swooning
admirin' his family jewel
In her somewhat dazed state
her aim was not straight
she inadvertently turned on the gas
his urge was to flee
of his wires wrenched free
maneuvered escape from the lass
From two storeys high
(a short distance to fly)
which in retrospect is soundly insane
he took a long jump
balls-down with a thump
now his crotch is perm'nently sprained
**************************************
For Joann's copycat's contest. Initially written by Sid, our mad poet. I copied the poem to my hard drive but somehow the title got lost. Maybe he can help us out with the title he used then. Sid, you're the bomb, me man!!!
Categories:
maneuvered, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
We meet on equal playing fields,
we strivers wielding pens,
with timid hopes, exposing thoughts
to harsh or candid critique.
The selfsame words are ours to use
in manner of our choices.
They lay in helpless, inert piles
until maneuvered by our pens.
Just as the paint and brush await
the artists soulful touch
or notes without composer's skill
are only noisy sounds;
just so a simple word can be
an ignored out of fashion thing,
until lifted by the poet's skill
into phrases for the ages.
Some have used proud words in prayer
that others use in curses.
We poets take them charily
and in literature we mold them.
The gifted take a simple word
and recognize its virtue,
They can combine, connect and phrase
as no one has before them.
Dear Reader, take these offered words
and mentally assess them.
The author hopes the unity of thought
will have made them worth writing and reading.
(Reworked and expanded July 30th, 2014
From short rhymed poem written earlier and
named Mystery of Words.)
Categories:
maneuvered, word play, writing, ,
Form:
Free verse
Adventures With James My Grandson
by Joan Donnelly 1995
He doesn't walk but runs to his subject on interest,
and upon arrival, leaps into the air.
With bended knees and flattened feet he lands like an athlete,
and his welcoming, "Hi," cuddles my heart as I wipe away a tear
Then he wraps a wee hand around my finger leading me into his realm of
Adventure and joy.... with enthusiastic anticipation,
though he hasn't turned two yet, my youngest son's eldest boy.
He guides me to a rest area and seats me by patting his hand on an outdoor substitute for a chair.
At his, "Sit, Sit,"I oblige him as he runs through rain puddles...then..
gifts me with a bouquet of dandelions and a honey-filled , "Here."
Once I presented him with a learning toy, his repsonse delighted my soul,
"Awh, Awh,"he uttered appreciatively while tilting his head ia sideways to and fro.
One day he noticed a kitten curled up 'neath a sheltering tree
Swiftly he raced toward her with an over-the-shoulder, "Come," to me.
I couldn't help but chuckle when he repeated, "Come," once more.
He never caught the enlightened feline but brightened my day for sure.
Then he ran down the street where he sighted a wooden plank on the ground.
"Bat, Bat,"rang his happy chant at the treasure he'd found.
With effort he maneuvered the narrow plank over his shoulder gleefully
"Ball, Ball,"he urged and I followed his searching eyes co-operatively.
To my amazement, as if waiting to be found ,lay a beach ball on a grassy mound...
Though I've not known baseball to be played with such.
It was of balloon size and as I looked into James' sparkling eyes..
I wondered if he'd become the baseball player his Dad hoped for so much.
I could see James straining to keep the awkward bat raised so with a..
"Ready, Set,"I pitched ball and prayer as James let out a sigh.
The bat he forward inched as he licked his upper lip and by gosh got a hit,
Then said, "Cool,"as we watched the ball fly.
"Get it, Nanny,"James gave me the order and I retrieved the ball intending to extend our fun........when.....Was it my imagination or did I hear....a crowd in a filled stadium cheer at the announcer's , "Well I'll Be, Folks! Young MacMaster makes another home run !"
Categories:
maneuvered, grandson, love,
Form:
Verse
“WELCOME
New inductees,
To the great American Society
Where dreams like sirens
Beckon,
But the distance before such dreams are reached
Increases with each step you achieve.
The land where meeting opportunities
Depends on mobility,
But beware of people in your passenger seat
Our air bags cause injuries,
And our auto companies
Will deny any direct responsibility.
Life here is a routine day in day out
Maneuvered through by most sleepily
And all lives carry a dollar amount,
Set by a millionaire’s Congress whose skill is stupidity,
While you live hand to mouth.
But here you’ll drive beautiful scenic views
Beautiful people to meet
But don’t be fooled,
Many believe God speaks through the T.V.
And protect and serve applies to minorities.
Here your youths
Will struggle to get through less than new schools
While you pray they make it home each day safely,
Then with their Master’s degree they can work fast food
Or retire from the city with a gold watch after twenty.
Here products are designed with life limits,
Repeat business is how they justify it,
Then sold for as much as business can get,
Because courts say second rate is just good business.
But don’t be dismayed
This is an amazing place
Of Hollywood screen parts
Snake oil, fake body parts,
Magical face creams, and cash until payday.
Plenty of people here will give of themselves,
Just remember to watch your health
As you try to make something of yourself,
Welcome”.
Categories:
maneuvered, encouraging, hello, society,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
thinking of turtles
I go straight to fables: The Tortoise and the Hare -
and how slow and steady wins the race
that same old story, been there, done that
think back think back - I’m back in grade school now
Mom didn’t like dogs and cats,
so she got us a turtle which died in weeks
probably not a good idea -
one small shared turtle passed around
among six pairs of small eager exploring hands
I think that to live a really long time
a turtle needs to be gigantic
like those huge ones on Galapagos. . .
how I loved learning in junior high geography
things like how those tortoises can live longer than my grandma
and how folks can ride atop their hard shell backs!
riding riding. . . now I’m back in high school
riding in a boyfriend’s car, sure I must have been
snuggled close to him, but maybe not
he was really into rules and I can’t remember
when wearing seat belts came to be a law!
Alvin was the name of this tall good looking guy
a year or two ahead of me in school
but in a different school from mine
across the Mississippi in a town of Illinois
his hair was dark and wavy, his eyes were brightly blue
even his nose was perfect, and he was so sweet
when he invited me to church camp across the river
for hours playing handsies covertly on our pew
we listened to religion droning on and on
and my mind was not on God
later at his house, making out
I never would have let him get too far
but I could tell he thought I was too fast. . .
I remember thinking as he drove me home
how slowly and carefully he maneuvered that car
how slowly he articulated
every word he spoke
and it entered in my mind
this religious rule abiding boy with the perfect face
and lips that gave such perfect kisses
drove, talked and probably thought
as slowly as a turtle
Alvin never dated me again
I wonder sometimes what he’s doing now
and if slow and steady
won the race
Categories:
maneuvered, analogy, boyfriend,
Form:
Free verse
Ytb! Ytb! You understand we had a contract?
But what happened ytb?
You were such a savior to many,
A dream come true for many,
Why did you abandon us ytb?
We came to Turkey you were nowhere to be seen,
We thought you were busy but you are never free,
We looked for dormitories on our own,
Although you had promised to help,
The journey was like Winterfell at kings landing.
In the dorm, we meet angry and furious face,
You could think they were chasing dragons mother,
They gave us tea without sugar, cheese without bread,
We complained in murmuring voices like ants,
But they said “burasi turkiye”.
Ytb! Ytb! Why did you tell us before?
We went to the streets and avenues for fresh air,
But we meet, green, blue, red and brown eyes examiners,
Didn’t they ask how are u? No! No! they just asked,
Musluman misin? Nerelisin, turkiye neden geldi?
Of course, we didn’t have answers to that.
Ytb! Ytb! Our only pride was being at Tophane,
Where we meet a lovely lady called Gözde,
She was the only queen of the throne in our hearts,
She gave us hope, listening to us like john snows,
But we still waited to hear from you ytb.
The worst wasn’t over as soon as we left Tophane,
Be it in bus, train, or “vapur” we survived through suspicions,
Turkish men looked at us as if we were competitors in their small ecosystems,
They maneuvered like the Shannara chronicles with prying eyes,
Closing the gaps of their fangs as leopard crushing Zebras bones.
Ytb! Ytb! Did you know that the dorms we are leaving 4,5,6?
The smell, snoring and farting atmosphere creates ozone layers?
The “yurt mudurlar” are always praising how they offer world-class services?
Ytb! Ytb! What went wrong with “world-class experience” promises you gave us?
Anyway, we are still waiting for you our dear friends Ytb.
As I wrap up ytb, Istanbul is the best place to have your offices,
To help and motivate the “çocuklar” in our universities,
Don’t deny them Erasmus because Turkey is home to them,
And they want to visit abroad also,
Ytb! Ytb! Hope we understood each other.
Categories:
maneuvered, hilarious, international,
Form:
Free verse
nervous system originates in the brain.
Nerves send and receive signals to feel pleasure, fear or pain.
A baby’s diaper rash causes crying, pain and suffering,
Her torment needs attention , care and buffering,
She is so sensitive to pain, as were you and I ,
The slightest discomfort caused us to cry.
But because this is pain we can not now recall,
It does not mean we didn’t experience it all,
The nervous system is developed in Mom’s womb long before birth,
Of course, most people know this fact, for what it’s worth,
Why else does the babe instinctively move away,
When the medical probe is maneuvered her way?
She does not know the terms “women’s rights“, “choice” and “abortion”,
As she is killed, screaming in a fear and pain filled contortion,
But that baby’s pain simply doesn’t matter in this world of darkened lights,
She missed the boat when the flag unfurled for choice and women’s rights.
Dear child, you are just not old enough to be without pain and fear,
You see, we have too many excuses times one million a year.
May God buffer your pain my little friends when your shortened time is through,
And forgive your Moms and Dads for we may or may not know what we do.
And ask God to have mercy on us self blinded pretend Christians too,
As we vote for politicians who promote killing your siblings and you.
Dedicated to Chantel
This is a repost of the poem written 5/01/2010 in answer to a charge that babies don't feel pain anyway so it's okay to abort them.
The news today 4/17/2012 (AP news) reports that the fetal pain abortion law which recently came about in three states because of the scientific proof that unborn babies do feel pain is now under attack because people want to kill the little ones anyway in spite of their proven torture.
Perhaps some day our society will become civilized and history will reveal these acts for the barbarianism that it indeed is. Until then let's keep praying for our youngest most vulnerable minority friends.
-Robert A. Dufresne
Categories:
maneuvered, family, life, love, god,
Form:
Couplet