Best Miscast Poems
Spring awaits its equinox of rebirth
where bluebells display a bed of blue haze,
vivid hues dazzle, delight, upon gaze,
nature cloaked in emerald’s green fresh earth
and I too wait …
Winter awaits its solstice of the sun -
nature rests in silhouettes against light
with season’s monotone palette in sight
that diminishes when nightfall’s begun
and I wait …
New year awaits, held breath, for chimes of time
saying farewell to old - embracing new,
dreams flutter, like confetti, to pursue
as I sit to ponder upon a rhyme
my heart and I still wait …
Alone, lonesome, am I with thoughts to muse
over many seasons that have so long past -
how have the years vapoured away so fast?
Am I at its mercy with all its ruse?
and yet, wait do I …
Cloaked in theatrical shadows on the
great stage of life where I play out my scenes
against the backdrop of changing screens
will I ever shine as the brightest star?
I still wait my heart and I …
I wait to be Romeo’s leading lady
and not a miscast as fate should dictate.
I wait to be someone’s queen not a pawn
when the flow of time is but a stalemate
and I wait, wait, wait …
Spawn of the arcane, glutted, she sprawls upon the sands
of mythos. As victims, star-crossed lovers, outcasts,
we have all seen the traces of these nether lands.
Sphinx-like, besotted, she lays among the bodies dashed.
A pixie smith has cast her silver chains, retained her
inside this mystic plane, stained her hide vintage rose.
Among the cards on the table, it is plain; she purrs.
Do you know what she knows; guess, a riddle she poses.
Protection sought from life's trials is at her command.
But, few coupled or single have journey past her grasp.
Unknown, to the unschooled, their senses unused, banned,
Christendom, the sacred fecund grail has miscast.
From Hatshepsut's visage, bound to Sekhmet she's sworn
beware, beware The Chariot's card once it is drawn.
two septets with rhyme
At long last, my friend, she bears no shame.
She spent a year seeking a soul-mate.
His eyes obliged her life to claim,
yet he could not, he would not propose.
Their calm ship was headed aground
for months she kept it together -
an ocean of hope, her playground.
Fisherman's widow! At long last
she reeled in and quit her searching.
She found her love had been miscast.
Two smiling faces fade from sight,
they travel on two different waves.
Feeling free, both alone tonight,
the settled sweetness of farewell.
inspired by a quote from Andrea del Sarto byRobert Browning,
"Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,"
Nature be my religion;
Prayer be my dominion.
Words felt but unwritten;
In fields of green and crimson.
I am a dreamer and a drifter;
A non–conformist, resister.
The wind is my whisper;
And the moonlight my sister.
I wear flowers in my hair;
Quote Shakespeare and Voltaire.
Have no qualms to swear;
Can make peace or warfare.
I prefer the solitude;
Depending on my mood.
But if a smile be the prelude;
Another may intrude.
The songs I sing are old;
The stories all foretold.
In tradition I enfold;
My blessings, manifold.
Two worlds, present and past;
Dwelling within the contrast.
Enigma or social miscast;
Artistry of life enthusiast.
Born to late;
To change the world's fate.
Too early to liberate;
Just in time to celebrate.
As storm clouds appear;
Between two world's frontier.
I look to those I most revere;
The prophet and the seer.
As we enter the eye of the storm;
The birds of prey become worn.
But in the early hours of the morn;
Sparrow's and crow's flight is born.
Center in the midst;
Find your balance to persist.
Take a hand, release a fist;
We're right on time to co–exist.
entry for Old Christmas Poem Contest by Constance LaFrance
"Christmas treasure? A baby's worth is so complex
God can use all those things we'd mark off with an " X ". by Poet
Twas the night before Christmas, the manger's convinced,
it stands ready to cradle a Savior and Prince.
The no vacancy sign caused men's wonder and doubt,
manger's role is a pivot. God's working it out!
As we gawk, looking on well-known scene from the past
deeming inn-keeper's choice of a manger - miscast.
Though the stable was clean, men have questioned, reviled
why this ignoble place to birth God's only Child?
Host of animals set, angels' message is heard
in the Bethlehem fields causing sheep no small stir.
"Give all glory to God, there's no reason to fear,"
Lamb of God has come down; 'tis the season to cheer.
Time elapsed since the manger, a star claims the scene
in fair Bethlehem town, we find kings have convened.
The star signaled their hope in the easternmost skies
God cut short anxious Herod's deceitful disguise.
Those three gifts that kings brought were the promise and fee
this young family needed when God said to flee.
Christmas treasure? A baby's worth is so complex
God can use all those things we'd mark off with an " X ".
December 17, 2021
H ealth of abundance…I wish to you
A lot of success…in whatever you do
P ride and distinction…may you gain
P romising suitors...may they be sane
Y uletide debt…may it be paid off fast
N ever, I hope…will you be miscast
E verlasting luck…I truly hope for thee
W ishing you’ll never meet…a killer bee
Y our quest for life…may it be robust
E ach of your seams…may they never bust
A nd most of all, I wish you…in this year
R igs full of money…and lots of beer!
He seized the role and ripped it to shreds
He chewed up the scenery like an insane Billy Goat
He snickered, he smirked, he roared, he raged
He bared his teeth, sneered and grinned like a demon
He terrorized and improvised (Heeere’s Johnny!!)
He primped and he pranced
He rocked and he rolled
He had a damn ball…
Jack Nicholson in ‘The Shining’
Jack was also the first choice to play the role of Father Damien Karras in ‘The Exorcist’, but the role was turned over to Jason Miller….It would have been a miscast. Sure, he would have jumped out the window but not to his death, not Jack!...He would have bounced back up and ran off to terrorize the entire neighborhood...
For Frank's contest
to wend through golden grasses of my past
with chill winds at my back from o'er the hill
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
thus far behind me stands that boy, miscast
while just a jester, much too bright and shrill
to wend through golden grasses of my past
the latter lad, thus pressed to love too fast
so saved his heart to burnish, soft and still
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
he stumbled into manhood, loves amassed
with wisdom gained from tragedy and thrill
to wend through golden grasses of my past
encumbrances and burdens grew too vast
while finding warmth in darkness and a pill
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
so now I cross the fields of time, steadfast
renewed with all the love one heart can will
to wend through golden grasses of my past
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Brian's Choice 10, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Your Best 2019-2020 Villanelle" Poetry Contest, William Kekaula, Judge & Sponsor.
The gift of shapes born in a cloud
Could never make my father proud,
Or accolades of merchant‘s turn
My mother’s head toward my return,
Imagination lost on one,
But dad’s shoes worn meant dad had won.
Both parent’s dreamed of child’s success
But other’s pride spelled emptiness
For years they towed the parent’s line
Ignoring blisses grand design
Life’s meaning was vicarious
Their messed up lives beyond redress.
I do not say there was no joy
But expectations plagued the boy,
For if one won the other lost
And keeping peace had quite a cost.
Our meals at home, a tense ceasefire,
Most seasoned by both tears and ire.
My Dad was easiest to hate
He had the means to change our fate,
Mom’s sadness certainly could scare,
Seemed most on Dad, he could not share.
She viewed Dad’s livelihood as curse
And his success just made things worse.
In truth both parents had their dreams
To see the world, an artist’s schemes,
Though Father’s dreams weren’t given voice
And raising kids derailed Mom’s choice,
Dad’s path was not his bliss at all
His family proved his downfall.
That both had lack of empathy,
In retrospect is plain to me.
And now it seems that every fight
Found justice just in being Right
Their politic’s dark history,
No plan to set the other free.
And should God care who wins at last
Their plans for children so miscast?
Shine light upon eternity
And share with all the love you see
That Spring saw grow to mighty host
That served God, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Brian Johnston
January 1, 2016
Dampened, gray, weighty day waiting
Students emerge from school
Baby faces but nearly grown
Men and women life fuel
Just a few years back in grade school
Time has past slowly but fast
The days, hours, minutes, seconds gone
In hurrying miscast
Dying to graduate high school
Dying to marry him
Dying to have children like him
Dying to fulfill a whim
Dying to get children settled
Dying to enjoy grandchildren
Dying to see great grandchildren
Dying to live again
But just dying when living life
Came to a halt, so slow
Time to enjoy each day buried
Buried six feet under so___
sonnetina rispetto
Why are you anxious, O my soul?
Hope thou in God; He's in control.
In mocking tones, my tears have asked,
Where is this God for whom you thirst?
Are you with trouble now immersed?
Has God your destiny miscast?
Why are you anxious, O my soul?
Hope thou in God; He's in control.
As with the breaking of my bones,
my enemies oppress with stones.
In mocking tones, my tears have asked,
Has God your destiny miscast?
Why are you anxious, O my soul?
Hope thou in God; He’s in control.
If you struggle to understand me
You are not alone with this thought
Need a moment to confirm and agree
A questioned mind steals what can't be bought
Friend is the name for those you always trust
I'm not saying that you do or you don't
Sailing on winds of relationship of rust
Right behind an old sinking ship of won't
Behind such reasons, the answers you seek
Like two rivers once branched to the sea
A current we travel both believe weak
Bridge the gaps between doubt or breaks free
Over the years we have decided our fate
Troubled not by the decisions we've made
Water flows freely when feelings stagnate
I came to the conclusion emotions fade
Will we ever know if truth was found
Ease pain from a continued troubled past
Your life and mine soon buried in the ground
Mind that our lives were always miscast
Bridge over Troubled Water Word Acrostic contest
sponsored by Roy Jerden
To strech beyond the endless sky,
with no baggage of guilt to carry,
spread the wings, just aspire to fly,
no wants, no cause for worry.
To plunge beneath the deepest ocean,
wearing a suit, a mask for sight,
tearing shoal of fishes' motion,
and bury many a trivial fight.
ironically,today I stand firm on the ground,
attempting to connect the future to past,
No wings to fly, No fins to drown,
wondering, am I in this place miscast ?
to wend through golden grasses of my past
with chill winds at my back from o'er the hill
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
thus far behind me stands that boy, miscast
while just a jester, much too bright and shrill
to wend through golden grasses of my past
the latter lad, thus pressed to love too fast
so saved his heart to burnish, soft and still
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
he stumbled into manhood, loves amassed
with wisdom gained from tragedy and thrill
to wend through golden grasses of my past
encumbrances and burdens grew too vast
while finding warmth in darkness and a pill
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last
so now I cross the fields of time, steadfast
renewed with all the love one heart can will
to wend through golden grasses of my past
oh how I wish the glow of spring would last.
To the ancient Norse he was Kraken
With a mean inclination,
And the Greeks called him Gorgon
With the same reputation.
But as monster of myths
He's been wrongly miscast,
So I'm here to shed new light
On this poor creature, at last.
An exemplary example
Of his cephalopod race,
With a blob of a body,
The merest trace of a face.
He has eight arms, or legs,
But no fingers or toes,
No waistline or shoulders,
No eyebrows or nose.
He can fly through the water
With the greatest of ease,
And accomplishes it sans
Catapult or trapeze.
When danger confronts him,
He's off in a blink,
And disappears in a cloud
Of stinky black ink.
Octobabies leave home
When the mother gives birth
To be part of the food chain,
Which is no cause for mirth.
Octodads show affection
With indifferent tugs,
But at mealtime they can be
Overly generous with hugs.
The octopus likes his comfort
And prefers to make his home
In more exotically aquatic locales.
It's not unheard of for some,
Who want to see more of the world,
To drift away from their natural venue,
Only sadly to get caught in a fisherman's net
And end up on a sushi bar menu.
At Christmas he's resigned
To passing out gifts,
Though as helper elf his head's too big
To put a hat upon.
And like the squid and the manta,
He can never play Santa
'cause he has no lap
To be sat upon.