Best Meddle Poems
Temple of the Gods
Within the realities, unseen deified admits a parallel preen
A shielded smokescreen for their succus is made unclean
In the matriarchal machine a throne tallat for the Queen
A calumnious convene in illusions that dered and demean
The fallen Angels level in their banishing bedaubed bedevil
In ruins ravaging, they revel a tenacious tenet of their temple
For their mendacious meddle we are the reifier of our vessel
We wilfully wrestle and retire in our denned deceived nestle
We are the many among the few evitative as we quietly ensue
For we must rise and renew all sexes seduced within their skew
Time to be trusted and true him or her who sees the veils thru
Constructs that construe dimensional drifts solos in the goo.
A Palindrome is a word or phrase which reads the same backwards as forwards, such as madam
deified – past tense of "to deify", meaning to consider as a god
succus – any of various liquids excreted by animals or plants
tallat--A loft.
dered – past tense of "to dere", an archaic word meaning to harm
level – various common meanings
tenet – a belief or principle
reifier – someone who reifies (considers an abstract concept to be real)
denned – past tense of to den, meaning to live in a den
evitative – a grammatical case indicating fear or aversion.
sexes – plural of sex
sees – third-person present tense of ‘to see’
solos – plural of solo
May.08.2018
Palindromes
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Tension crawls into the pores of crashing contemplation
Why has it become so hard to breathe?
If only it was known what this dejected heart is saying
As she sobs poetic lines of wordless woe
She is cradled in the tempo tempest of this reflection
Pulsing in the unfeeling land beyond her bodily home
The blood pumping sweet iron grief spurts
The soles of the feet throb at the impact
As the grass cools only to recall the coldness of the present
The impact…
Of a tear falling to the floor
The droplet so gentle… in clear-watered, grounded rapture
The energy of the sorrow befallen is perilous
One with many roads leading to frail fantasy
Aggravated tear…so atrocious, envious
There is something more whirling in this déjà vu cycle
Being crushed many times
By lackadaisical, ever-traveling minds
It is too easy to be tossed to and fro
Between conscious leisure and provocative pressure
Sub-dominated by sumptuous conviction
That word—love—a furtive dagger
Driving a gaping hole of shame and unknowing
Straight into her
Wracking around in this meddle
Of emotion and reason—shooting up falsehood full throttle
Drifting there again
In a solitude almost consoled by the earthy coldness
Of his fowl glare…
Every unsaid word frazzling to the mind
Tearing me and lifting me high
One must wonder if you watch as the fragments fly
As they float for only a few seconds
Of your precious time
And fall back down below
At your very feet
Where the grass is warm, and hopes are high
Please don’t leave them on the floor with the tear
The tear that never quite gets absorbed
The tear that chillingly consoles that bleeding heart
Destroying me
As she thrashes in the maze of bones and matter
Each hollow pathway of the marrow leading to a dead end
Or an ever-winding way downwards
They say each body of water leads straight to the sea
Where will the tear I abhor…lead me?
Is He watching?
When my tongue thirsts for sin,
Gamble my faith with filth,
When my tongue spills its worst,
My ears long to be filled with corruption,
When my fingers linger to steal,
My feet tread over and along faults?
Is He watching,
My unrepentant soul thrive?
Growing more in strength and glory?
Hardening it’s shield against good,
Gambling what is right and wrong,
Yet making the choice to dwell in the wrong?
Feeding itself with shades of deceit?
Is He watching,
When I am unrepentant but care less?
When I don’t consider His feelings?
Strive to please me rather than Him?
Meddle in the pleasures of earth?
Dump off the cares of my Christian race?
But I know the truth but become blind to it?
Is He watching,
When I return spite for His care?
Neglect His expensive price of love?
On a daily routine visit the gallow of sin?
Clad a false Christianity in my personality,
Yet judge others at the slightest fault? Still nurturing the hypocrite I protect.
Is He watching,
My unrepentant soul thrive?
My unquestionable strategies of pride,
When I stay balanced in the kingdom of the enemy?
Stain my soul constantly in mire,
Even when the truth hits me hard.
Brings to my realization how wrong I am?
Is He watching?
When I lay finally to my last rest,
And stand before Him to be judged?
When my soul headed to Him is rebuked?
When my deeds in my face is reproduced?
How my own vanity has chosen for me doom?
So helpless to reality I stand.
Is He watching,
My guilt wager my strength as I spare not tears?
My offense like chains stroke my existence,
Hangs my living in the face of death?
When my past with pride divulge my wrongs?
Plastered with faulty stains I forever I’m gone,
Lost to the sins I once chided unethical.
The black river mills are seen in the distance
The red skies show spiraling, gray clouds
The earth is man’s canvas
And the mills slowly mix the paint
We have seen the devastation
We have felt the desperation
Some of us wallow in our watercolor
And leave the canvas blank
The mills crush their bones to the bottom
Mixing them nicely into the paint
People are pushed in without thought
Others go in willingly
The river mills are closer to my view
And my brush is stiff and unused
Women and children walk alongside the rivers
The elderly follow and sometimes shake their heads
On a cliff, I watch them all
My brushstroke stiff and worthless
Shakily I climb down the precarious cliff
Brush in hand
Canvas in view
Watching people suffer in the paint of their mistakes
People wanting to be part of the picture
I never desired this. . .
I wanted to create a masterpiece
The women and children are gone
—except one
I see a little black boy standing alone
He is watching me curiously
Tears in his eyes
He is a watcher
He was born to suffer
He never desired this either
“I’m sorry.”
The boy smiles sadly and takes my hand
“It’s okay. I understand.”
I shed digital tears
And program some control
It is quiet, save for the sound of the river mills
It has mixed well
The colors are astounding
“Are you sure you want to stay?”
The boy nods.
“No one wants me mixed with them.”
He is a creator
He is a watcher
I dip my brush into the churning waters
I then hand it to the little black boy
“The world is your canvas now. . .” I whisper.
It was NEVER mine to meddle with. . .
And we are set apart for a reason
But together we are incomparable
Walking through the autumn leaves
Crunching and cracking beneath my heels,
A small green stem and bright red petal
On a journey to where it will settle,
A dozen plaques of names gone by
We lay a wreath some may cry,
Courageous beings that gave they’re last breath so we could be free from birth till death.
11:11 on the 11th day
We hold our poppy together we pray,
For what they have give us and what not to repeat
A tragic loss from under our feet,
A shinny meddle that came with such fear
A veteran of the world one trickling tear,
A day to remember stood in the wet
3 little words...lest we forget.
Just keep it simple
Don’t clutter your head
Clutter causes stress
Too much stress makes you dead!!
Just keep it simple
Try a slower pace if you can
Life is too short
To act like a madman!
Just keep it simple
Don’t sweat the small stuff
Try positive not negative
Not grumpy and gruff
Just keep it simple
Don’t intentionally cause strife
Don’t be a busybody
Or meddle in others lives
Just keep it simple
Be nice not mean
Show respect ,be kind
Not rude and obscene
Just keep it simple
Be humble ,don’t complain
On this earth only once
Make the most….Don’t let it be in vain!
...for my sons Keir and Evan
Truth is a two-edged sword,
you will be cut by nonsense,
not by circumstance, my son,
and blinded to its darker side
you'll drift in seas of innocence,
carefree as a neophyte
with all the answers pending,
daft and delirious, your youth is fully spent,
and dreams are never-ending,
immerse yourself in fantasies
as long as you are able,
and nestle, tightly held in heaven's tending.
The twin deceits will wriggle as you learn,
and even good will bring you sorrow,
as the ways of evil cause you strife;
differentiate, discern
that which you can beg or borrow
to lend a sweet contentment to your life.
Everyone will aggravate and meddle,
good and bad will jostle for attention,
the guilty and the innocent,
whatever they can camouflage or peddle
to cheat on their redemption,
(beware the sly recalcitrant!)
The glory of the earth is set before you,
flora, fauna, the duplicity of man,
the dust of stars, the rubble of creation,
the planets slowly spinning into view.
Amidst the whirl, the waste, do what you can,
identify the source of inspiration,
the sounds of summer singing in the grass,
birdsong, and the bliss of flowers in bloom,
the unity of things, below, above.
You'll make a difference in the days that pass,
as you give your fellow seekers elbow room,
uncompromising in your search for love.
Wouldn’t meddle in Math
For I fear and respect her.
But love her figure!
— Ram, R. V.
Joys of Spring
An onset of early spring,
Benevolence floats in air,
Colours full of romance,
Dancing greens to trance,
Eternal bliss !
Flowers bloom to enchant,
Golden millets of wheat,
Happiness will surely greet,
Iridescent bow in sky,
Jazzy kids jiggle,
Kites fly up so high,
Lovers craving for meets,
Meddle into the streets,
Natter and laugh out loud,
Oblivions the talk of the town,
Passion in heart grows,
Quaffs the sorrows,
Reminisce and reveal,
Salients of joy unveil,
Thrive to show the zeal,
Unending positivity,
Vows to fill the air,
Wanderers waited out for,
Xenons at the night shout,
Yearnings ride a high horse,
Zephyr sets the perfect flair !!
Written Feb 22nd, 2015
For Shadow's contest
Awarded 2nd place win
Now for Linda's contest " Any poem contest #33 "
Now for Shadow's "Abecedarian" contest
Fresh upon the morning grove,
With day becoming hot,
And sitting there upon the stove,
A kettle and a pot.
The kettle blew and lifted high,
And poured into the cup,
With that to see it’s bottom by,
And so the pot spoke up.
“Pardon me to even know,
For I don’t mean to meddle,
But you are all black down below,”
The pot said to the kettle.
For a moment to rebuff,
The kettle answered back,
“I’ve seen your bottom oft enough
And yours is just as black.”
Looking down and much contrite,
The pot did then exclaim,
“It seems that Kettle, you are right,
I guess we’re both the same.”
I write so when i'm wrong i'm still right,
I fly words like planes the wright brothers rite?
This is nothing new you could of knew what i'd do.
After ware and tear I wonder where you could wear a new outfit.
Go to the store to get chips, fruit snacks too, not a pack maybe two.
I wish I had a rode mic to use on the road,
Or a face cam to record while I rowed.
I just yawned but we're almost there, that's their way of saying they're tired.
The letter after S is a T, in my white tee, I drink tea and sing the alphabet.
In Spanish I know Si, yes I like the sea, someday i'll see, after my A B C's.
Pare look on my face with a pair of pears being tasted.
I sent cents to the scent store cause tax for her perfume was 4 pennies more.
I turn the bass low so I don't scare the bass in the water.
The tigers prey while I pray.
Duel fighters dual.
I meddle, in the mettle, until I get the medal.
Wether they know it or not the weather might change whether they like it or not.
They're on their way over there now.
I'm sure my principal knew the principles.
I'm about to cite what I sight on the site tonight alright.
You can vote at a poll in the north pole.
I bawled when I seen I was bald.
You ever seen a bear bare naked?
Don't bark up the wrong bark of tree.
Will you ride with me on this bus?
I promise the trip is in no rush
For the driver is careful and gentle
He will forbid danger to meddle
Will you ride with me on this bus?
Comforting and void of all the fuss
Guaranteed seat for you to take
Well designed for passenger's sake
Take a ride with me now on this bus
In a condition you can't make a refund
For the fare is free for all destinations
Welcome to people of every nation
Ride with me now on this bus
Take my word, we are in good hands
For the One above is our careful driver
Driving our lives so we may not suffer
Elastic stretches bit by bit, around your thick dimension
Lets you wiggle, if you're pudgy, from too much fudge retention
A second portion...now, you're ecstatic....Alas, you've licked the kettle!
Should I tattle or meddle much, or call for intervention?
Thus, your middle may need attention, is it a time for fudge redemption?
I hope you won't judge my good intentions, or hold a grudge.... OOPS!
Caught by chance, I wear stretch pants!! Your fudge tastes quite fantastic!!
_________________________________________________
9/24/13 For Andrea's "Seven" Contest
Let me tell you straight-up that I been in too many relationships where the sex was
not about fulfillment, therefore, I do not want to deal with the stressors.
You see I need a certain man to take me as I am even when I am in my mood swings.
The frustrated points, the agony in wanting, and the denial of desires unfulfilled is
nothing more than incompatibility.
I do not like being under pressure.
My mind, my body, my soul are not interweaved.
These are three different aspects my man must perceive to conceive.
I do not need a war zone in that this occurs when you lie about who you are.
A domestic violator from herein is palpable.
You see I want to be a whole person.
Do not meddle my mind.
Do not deny my body the enjoyment it desires.
Do not play in that we are of the same vibes.
I just want a lover that realizes that I am his to cultivate.
He is there to soul mate.
Insofar as we may part eventually, he will be forever a part of me.
Please understand.
I merely intend for love and happiness to win.
___________________________________________________________|
Penned February 25, 2015!
I will always remember,
to persuade myself to forget,
something of random regret,
for ancient images still linger.
Distilled from dreams of days,
When I was silent and younger,
creeping dearly to be a stranger,
Thinking I decided novel ways,
Images those meddle duly in vain,
To bring me back my innocence,
My fancies and sighs of indolence.
But what passed, brings more pain.
When perception tends to be late,
Manipulated by unclouded choice,
with a sound taken for a voice.
Far drifted, I loaf on paths to fate.
Thus feeble, I float on a logic flood,
Lost among places like paradise,
With acrid tales of open blind eyes,
Reciting words those swiftly scud.