Best Masters Poems
**
T~ This is for all the great master poets of art.
H~ Having the skills, the words, and the smarts.
E~ Emotions you've captured, the thoughts you provoked.
P~ Pouring your heart out with a pen in your hand,
O~ Orchestrating your words like no one can.
E~ Elizabeth Browning, Dickinson, Shakespeare, and Poe,
T~ Twain and Frost - these great ones you know.
R~ Reflecting on their works, that have brought us to tears.
Y~ Yes, yearning for more, we felt all their fears.
M~ Masterfully crafted their words - they can fool,
A~ An artist on paper, their pen is their tool.
S~ Strategy, playing with rhythm and rhymes,
T~ Touching our hearts and enriching our minds.
E~ Experts and masters, their poems live on.
R ~Reflecting on your memory now that you're gone.
S~ So, thanks for your poetry. I leave with this thought, "How do I love
thee?" *
Acrostic ~ Rhyme
4 - 19 / revised - 4-4-22
* How Do I Love Thee? is a Sonnet
written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Acrostic Poetry Contest ~ 4/19
Sponsored by: Family Friend Poems
~ 1st ~
The month of April is designated as National Poetry Month.
This poem was written in honor of well-known poets.
Like Harry Potter, the sorting hat (my mom)
has placed me in a bloody, crimson colored school.
It’s disorienting, as I go about, the logos are wack.
Poor little rich girl
no beachside lovers
this interminable, scorching summer.
I’m swept up by scholastic spirit.
Can you hear it? Cause it’s deafening me,
on this cool, dry, Boston orientation day.
As we finished our morning 8k jog,
the sunrise blossomed, painting hot lava clouds
with hues of yellow, orange and pink.
We’re traipsing unfamiliar paths,
It’s not what we’re used to, the roads are uneven
and the architecture’s all boxy and wrong.
.
.
Songs for this:
New Toy by Lene Lovich
Better After All by Jonatha Brooke
Now At Last by Feist
Whitman wrote of a great Captain
Keats Ode A Nightingale
Frost took The Road Not Taken
Donne knew For Whom The Bell Tolls
Thomas raged against The Dying Of The Light
Like Poe's Raven they are Nevermore,
But their works live on evermore.
This soul must yield to a Master's hand
At path's end, with toil endured
Destined worth, its truth assured
As winters frost nips at the rose
Shorn from time, as cold winds blow
This soul must yield to a Master's hand
With source of light that guides my way
Beyond these shrouds before me lay
A peace, nor I could understand
This soul found hope with a Master's hand
Such repose within this heart I felt
With veneration, my will has knelt
The warmth of spring doth fill the air
As only one could answer prayer.
“TALENTS," WORK FOR THE
MASTERS INTEREST
Working against master’s interest
wise slave not want to do.
Nor should any Christian today
Including me… and you.
Imagine, one talent’s value
way back in Bible days.
Laboring man earn in fourteen years
what silver talent... pays.
Talents were given to each slave
according to ability.
Not like, one mina for each slave.
this time talents …did see.
First slave given five, second, two
to another, just one.
Illustration, shows the privilege,
increase followers…each one.
According to ability
Masters goods, in slaves care.
Should show interest in his estate
build up their…Master’s share.
Even if didn’t want to invest
or diligently trade.
Deposit in the bank so sure,
some interest would be made.
Wicked slave, one who did nothing
with silver that he had.
Buried and hidden, laid idle
didn’t make Master…glad.
Working against Master’s interest
In effect what he did.
Are we in some way doing same
Pray not…heaven forbid!
Working for our Master’s interest
what everyone should do.
Are you out making disciples?
If Christ did…we should too!
-
September 21, 2018 copyright
All rights reserved
They stand in regimented
order, lined up on the seawall,
all facing into the wind.
A slight turn of a body
catches a squall and sends
an errant gull off balance
forcing it to take flight.
Overhead, some hover,
others bank and sheer off
into the distance,
coming back to hang
in the air before
descending to the ground.
Seagulls are masters
of the wind, feathers tuned
to ride each gust and gently
float the chaos that boils
beneath their wings.
The air is home to them.
Then suddenly, such mastery
collapses into to a ball
of feathered fury, all grace gone,
fighting over the remains
of a big mac flung out
of a car window,
but leaving the pickle.
The Masters Touch
sweet child, catch a firefly
and gaze upon its beauty,
see it shine and echo
of heaven's divine touch
for its life is a sweet sign
of the master's vivid glory
10-1-09
Written: October 19, 2023, For Tania Kitchen Spooky Halloween Contest
___________________________________
Hope is buried, gulping Satan of the Night.
Its odd, dreadful beats drove in schizo sight.
Sweet dread awaits the fair-headed, awful stride.
As fear drew closer, it heard the sad words abide.
They were expressionless, their bodies obeying.
Love, it's ignored—bleeding hearts break, swaying.
They recall dread and can tell a horrific story well.
A red-hot sword could lure Satan from his shell.
Haunting, poltergeists, and zombies are the core
At Halloween, they shine as murderers may abhor.
Undermining existence in horror's catacombs
Blood and mayhem are the spooky twin gnomes.
Become a demon, and I'll stay at Dracula castle.
Awaken afraid from a lucid state, scared of hassle.
Amidst a Halloween party, I was stuck in despair.
Fear remains upon me after a spooky nightmare.
Return of the Kung Poo Masters
Spring came around the bend
As YES, Dragon is at it again
My roses have compost more regular than rain
As, Dragon goes at it, claiming its Zen
Yep, He’s dumping his loads as I try to stop him in vain
So the Kung POO Masters I did call
This time it was not one, but all
I declared who ever can bend
Dragon’s poos and great winds
Will be crowned the greatest Kung Poo Master of all
One of these was found tied with his robes in a tree
Another under a great pile of Dragon’s debris
But this ain’t the end
For a mysterious friend
Used Dragons curiosity to bend him… to his knee.
Each day the Kung Poo Master refused to come back
Or to reveal himself… as he was hidden… all in black
If Dragon didn’t comply to his potty time rules
Such a clever rule, for he wasn’t a fool
As Dragon finally complied
Then he stubbornly refused, until next year, to unveil
That didn’t last long, as Dragon blew a fiery gale
But The Kung Poo Master wasn’t hurt
For he had on a fire proof shirt
For he was the Sheriff of Crazyland, goes my tale
He won the crown and our respect all around
Now he comes each morn to wake Dragon with loud sounds
Dragon always jumps up and a chase unfolds
And if he dumps a load, its littering he’s told
Now my roses are flourishing in abound.
Now when he’s good… Dragon is given a treat
And the Sheriff gets breakfast here all very neat
Then they’re off to the park to meet Dragons destiny.
For Dragon has become the new Sheriff’s Deputy!
Finally… our… peace …is… complete
If the masses works a slaves and servants
For these politician… great and giants
Poverty will prevail
More families will fail
There will be a war of the plants and ants.
For follow the leader contest
Masters of Architecture
The air heavy with scent of August blossom
A warm and still day indeed!
Sitting by the lakeside
Watching fishes dance in the water
A twittering in the trees
Then captivated my attention
Above was a party of beautiful birds
Singing in the orange tree
I remember a cool day in January
When I stumbled in the realm of birdlife
About their intricate domed nest
It was in a gorse bush about half a mile down the lake
Both the male and the female
Brought building materials into the nest
This was about four feet from the ground
They are amazing architects!
Imagine the busy birds
Piecing in lichen,
Animal hair and cobwebs
Leaves tightly clutched with beaks
The oval-shaped domed nest is ready
With door at the top
Their elaborate building,
The best thing your eyes could behold
Studying my books,
Deadlines set close together
A lonely, hard time
With a brush of creation and a hammer of the gods
The Titans climatically clash against the will of all odds
Creating creativity that hits at the corrosive core
Chaotically colliding to settle the submissive score
Perpetual paintings and seductive seditious statues
The world is greatly gifted as they acrimoniously amuse
They bring down the heavens with a brush and chisel
As one stares at a rock and the other does scribble
Euphoric eruptions that calculably come out
Majestic Masters in a beguiling battling bout.
July.03.2016
Historical rivalry-Part 1- Leonardo vs Michaelangelo - Poetry Contest
By Marugu Mo
Masters of flight,
Marvel of sights
Flying in from all over Europe,
Asia, Africa and America
Hovering and performing sharp manoeuvres
With successful acrobatic flights
And their wings constantly changing shape
The flap of their wings,
The envy of aviators
Believe it! The airplane is no match for them
As they stay airborne through wind gusts, rain and snow
Flying without a map
Following no prescribed path
They come in their thousands
Beautifully dressed for dinner
Very distinguished with their white heads
And showy white tails
Feathers fanned out for braking as they land
Masters of flight
Marvel of sight
Majestic soaring eagles
.
The wild wind’s whisper haz
touched the budding roses
giving them life
The gawp from the writer
before the readers
yep
wuz jaw dropping
Yep
I’ve seen other roses
budding
yet these which were before me
yep
tumid
and were an umber
sought by many uh poets
Yet
I
yep
I
have outwitted
the masters
*Les clins d'oeil de poete