Best Masks Poems
Fact Or Fool Who be You
I have seen
fools ranting
what's up Pink Floyd
No thinkers, no education
only poets with muse and frustration
The deniers of science
are committing massive crimes
jail should be their only pudding
sadly Covid takes many of them away
I have no sympathy for their ignorant play
the only ones bouncing in their beds
are the scientists
angry that such ignorance spreads
it's always the morons who resist
why do people carry such hate?
to tell lie upon lie upon loathing lie
letting thousands more in pain die
the penitentiary should be their fate
American prejudice has failed us
funding is ever lacking
Teachers who know not what's cracking
No wonder fools get away with the fuss
Science does not cover up
it only learns, adapts and that's a must
over six billion vaccines
thousands of doctors have over seen
The outbreaks now you see
are the unvaxxed injected with stupidity
they blame all the immigrants
hatred always blames the outsider
All in all, stupidity is never very tall
On buses, trains, crowds
they must be worn, but then we
always do, don’t we!
Blood masks the lea, the blasted loam
upon whose breasts soldiers came home.
The earth, herself, held each to chest
the mist of sky killed with each breath
as ruined green became their tomb.
Men strafed by shells and gassed by fume:
cast akimbo, blown to their doom
entrenched, barb fenced; death coalesced;
blood masks the lea.
Eight million French, their valor shown;
most shy twenty lay beneath stone:
Russians, Brits, Italians, Yanks, rest
thirty seven million, our best
slaughtered and listed in old tomes;
blood masks the lea.
An Ekphrastic done as a French Rondeau
after:Flanders Fields by John McCrae
Darkness uttermost
Howl gobblins, gooks, grinch and ghost
Dripping touch of night
Blood like curdled light
Candle tears, white serpents hiss
Shadowing the mist
Hell has broken free
Behind the masked jubilee
Of death's silent screams
Rats, pumpkins, dead dreams
In dried fairytales of leaves
Mark, our prank deceives
The shuddering knife
Not again, jack ripped his heart
With pale piper's fife.
Not heaven nor art
The cold merriment, a wheeze
Of dark wintry breeze.
They never change
These vassals of venom
If only their cups could hold love
Instead of water
Then gardens could bloom in valleys and deserts
As the seeds of love traverse the oceans
Yet they chose to poison the wine
That spreads humanities love
Old men set in their ways
Lost, like fishermen at sea
Floundering for redemption
One day
We shall remove their masks
And rejoice
Love at long last
Notes:
Recently being in the hospital and not knowing if I would get out, I had dreams of both gardens and nightmares, I guess the best way to sum it up, is the garden of good and evil.
Romans 3:13
13Their throats are open graves; their tongues practice deceit; the venom of vipers is on their lips; 14their mouths are full of cursing and of bitterness;…
No More Masks (Nothing to do with the contest)
I had no idea, when we met in the park
that you'd draw a heart in the air
Then you blew me a big red kiss
And I caught it like it was there
After a while that big red smile
Got my heart just pounding away
As I saw you walk against the wind
Although none was blowing that day
So, I pulled on a rope, in having the hope
Of somehow drawing you near
But I couldn't talk, while trapped in a box
With the look of total fear
You know you looked so darn cute
As you descend those make-believe stairs
In that Macell Marsuo suit
And a little black beret on your hair
Now how can I find
The love, that was mime
For I can't remember your face
All songs a poet can sing,
All masks a poet can wear,
All seasons a poet can live,
And all wars a poet can fight.
Colorless is the mask of a poet.
Nationless is a true poet.
All borders, a true poet will cross;
For mankind and the ecosystem, poets shall defend.
Poets poet their poems for you and me;
They are humans like all of us.
The same sunlight, we sunbathe,
And we marinade the same rain.
True empathic and sympathetic, poets are;
My language, they speak; yours and theirs, they speak too.
Mother nature’s language, they better master and utter,
Because she taught them how to speak the natural language.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
Autumn's, veil, misty,
Intrigue prowls-horror’s echo,
Halloween's chill creeps.
Masked-truth’s cleaver guise,
Secrets whisper ‘mongst shadows,
Fear stalks-night’s cruel jest.
I'm okay,
you're okay is a mask in the land of pretend.
Children say what they feel,
their honestly can bubble over.
Little ones have not learned words hurt,
so their tongue flow freely.
The only masks they wear,
is at Halloween.
Turning into teenagers,
they have learned the power of words.
Words can bring joy like a fluttering butterfly,
or pain like a sharp knife in the back.
I'm okay, you're okay is a mask we wear,
wear in the land of pretend.
So many things for us to do today
Here’s a few, what do you say
Call an old friend
And discuss remember whens
Send out some smiles
Watch them spread just like fire
Help someone keep living
Without asking for a ribbon
Clean out a drawer
Give the extra to the poor
Sweep the webs from the corners
Watch out for those hoarders
Clean up your mind
Erase the dirt and the grime
Nourish your soul
Read an inspirational poem
Thank God above
For His countenance and love
Find an activity
Where you’ll smile and feel giddy
Just be your best self
Don’t keep your good on a shelf
Remember our masks
Are made out of glass
Written - 01/11/21
Heaven's storms of fury see behind bland masks of deceit.
To the Masks we Wear all Mortals beware
We all hide what we are from all sight
Why do we stay in fright?
Aren't we proud of what we are
Or do we fear who we are from afar
Do we wear our Masks, not only to hide
by to save our own hide
Who themselves have stared within?
And seen the beast that dwells with pride and delight
If we don't admit to its existence,
does that not remove its power?
Or by hiding do we empower our own beasts with that of fear
Out of all, who can claim to see their inner beasts?
I've seen,
I've confronted the beast,
And all that is left now, is My Mask
The Mask that is me, not the beast, not what people want me to be
Me, little old me, the truest of all beasts and demon
The Mask of blighted light that I can without doubt claim, is me
So, do I wear a mask, or do you put the mask on me?
Next time you stare at someone, remember,
Their not the only ones who put the mask over your eyes
First poem ever on here, so hope it goes well LOL
Oh, venerable mask on high!
You have replaced, my God, so do come nigh.
Of hand-sanitizers do I religiously sing.
No church, no God, I adore social distancing!
I will make wrong, all who wear no mask!
Label them as idiots or freaks ~is my latest task.
The government is my Higher Power now.
I have no time for you God, so take your leave and bow.
I gleefully forgot you already know the day I will die.
So media fear colors my rivulet of days, like sixties tie-dye.
Maybe I will trust you when this is over?
I doubt it though, since I let science and government
I adore, even more than my dog, Rover!
April 14, 2020
11am PST
Masks on the hill
masks in the gutter
used and wrinkled
new age garden of Eden
where everyone's beautiful.
Masks under the shell
shift them around
let the blind guess which one
cloaks the truth of this new age hell.
Mask of Childhood
and Youth —
A Dreamer I am
An adventurer I am
Telling stories with crayon
Riding my Pony into the wind
Bashful I am – smiling at a boy
Inching toward the responsibilities of womanhood.
Busy Mask of
Womanhood —
Loving I am – a man
Passing dreams to children
Adventures encouraging children
Telling stories – now with Paint
Teaching my children how to ride into the wind
Moving toward independent womanhood.
Mask of the
Old — Saying goodbye I am – To my heart / man / boy
But a dreamer I am – still
An adventurer I am – always
Telling stories with poetry and paint
Tending my pony as we remember riding into the wind
Slowly moving toward final goodbyes ....