Best Mollify Poems
My strides left shallow imprints 'pon a sandy shore
Gulls cried out in alarm and swarmed cornflower skies
My thoughts turned to Avalon of King Arthur's lore
while dawn broke as an amber yoke in morn's sunrise
I shielded my eyes from the sea's shimmering waves
sauntering restlessly with a sorrowful soul
mourning my aggrieved heart, a heart that love enslaves
My grief spills in the shallows of this rocky shoal
Salty breeze, please chase away my tears of despair
Tell me how to heal or in anguish I shall die
Wounded by pillaged love, my emotions laid bare
I walk this shore, begging my ache to mollify
My footprints 'pon the sand and hope submerged in doubt
I plead for a flood of faith to end passion's drought
October 1, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 15
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Displacement
_______________ = Velocity
Time
An equation with little importance
A lesson taken in physics class
But, something the physics teacher said made deep thoughts emerge
He said: “TIME goes on and never stops”
Places are visited and memories are cherished
Pictures are taken and smiles are captured
Walls embrace stones of reminiscence
TIME passes by, wishes are made, and we are enraptured
Age secretly whips pieces of our memory
Eyes narrow to symbolize remembrance
Then, we believe those pieces are lost
And our good TIMES vanished
These are nothing but mere ploys
Played by our mind
For those memories are at the back of our heads
Ready to appear whenever you, dear reader, want
To me,
T ales tune temperate
I dioms idealize indigenous innuendos
M ajestic mnemonics mollify memoirs
E xistence ends, Eternity endures ecstasy
Remember, dear passenger, that you are the leader
Lead TIME to the pleasant manors
Show TIME the warmth of what is within itself
Reveal the secret of importance to every second in TIME…
“Time is like a river. You can not touch the same water twice, because the flow that has
passed will never pass again. Enjoy every moment in life…” –Anonymous
Horse Story
Whatever you do a horse will not be accepted in
bar or an inn, our horse after hours of ploughing soil
was give beer to drink, this because the home made
beer the farmer had brewed wasn’t any god.
The horse drank deeply but after a rest it got truculent
and refused the harness, The farmer gave it more
beer to mollify the horse, but no this was a day when
it said no. The horse trotted to the nearest town
found an inn and asked for a beer, deep silence, drinkers
joined AA, no good for business the innkeeper called
the police and got a the horse back to the farm where it
had to sober up in a field tied to a tree, and the farmer
had to pay a fine for giving alcohol to an animal
It is Labor Day
I am paid not work
but what am I to do
the festive trimmings are not attached
so the perk is an useless quirk and
my boring schedule quickly fills in the gaps
as usual, my alarm sounds at 6am
the coffee maker perks at 6:15am
my rested body flings away the covers
I watch the Today show while shaving
fetch the newspaper, quickly scan the headlines
wait, I have more time my curiosity to prime
but the dog is on his normal morning schedule
so I speed to the door, his bladder to mollify
no fancy holiday breakfast awaits in the kitchen
so, on cue, I grab an egg, poach it, down some juice
my family sleeps on through the holiday mirage
my engine is in overdrive, but where to go
no parades, pageants append this vapid day
but there is no reason to stay at home either
no arriving relatives to amend the boredom
still, I have one day's free pay to spend
maybe, I'll take the car to the wash
nah, that is a weekend ritual
perhaps, I will canvas Pro Bass Shop
nah, the drive is longer than my work commute
OK, I will stay at home and be a utilitarian
I can finish trimming the bedroom shutters
but wait, I am out of that flossy white paint
and didn't my wife need the car for her
annual holiday shopping spree
I could re-mow the lawn to give it
a manicured look, but nah
to labor on Labor day is too oxymoronic
so I curl up in front of the TV
finish watching the Today show
contented with the lofty notion that
I am being paid to while away the day
Horse Story
Whatever you do a horse will not be accepted in
bar or an inn, our horse after hours of ploughing soil
was give beer to drink, this because the home made
beer the farmer had brewed wasn’t any god.
The horse drank deeply but after a rest it got truculent
and refused the harness, The farmer gave it more
beer to mollify the horse, but no this was a day when
it said no. The horse trotted to the nearest town
found an inn and asked for a beer, deep silence, drinkers
joined AA, no good for business the innkeeper called
the police and got a the horse back to the farm where it
had to sober up in a field tied to a tree, and the farmer
had to pay a fine for giving alcohol to an animal
Ladies and Gentlemen, good folks gather round!
What I have here to show you is worth every pound.
It will soothe your dry bunions, seal your canoe,
Moisten your leather, and stretch your shampoo.
At my own huge expense, from India to thee,
The famous, spectacular, Big Jumbo’s Ghee!
I’ve used it as wheel lube from here to Mumbai.
It can quiet your babies at night when they cry.
It can mollify itching from poisonous plants.
It will ease the infirm of their ravings and rants.
No sir, not a swindle, this is no evil boast.
You can even put Ghee on your pancakes and toast!
Just so, Sambo travelled from hamlet to town,
Selling his Ghee; a half-cup for a pound.
Word spread like wildfire, for this was no hoax.
Just a golden-brown product that’s good for all folks.
He lived very simply, for Sambo was blessed.
And sent home his millions so Mumbo could rest!
5/30/17
For the contest “Little Black Sambo by Helen Bannerman”.
Sponsored by Debbie Guzzi
Why does the heart get all the credit for love?
By so-called affairs of the heart,
that most storied of organs is not unduly inconvenienced.
It beats,
now faster, now slower,
that is all, its task ever unvaried.
But the brain.
The brain is swarmed
by a scream of consciousness,
the amount of work that lands on its desk
swollen by an epidemic of incoming data
as body-wide receptors caffeinated by intimations of love
report frequent sightings of
unexampled beauty followed by euphoric contacts.
Every signal, real or illusory, is taken into custody and interrogated
to determine its authenticity or duplicity.
Every word is a code that needs to be deciphered with a
clear-eyed detachment it can no longer muster.
Every look is transferred to the left side
for facial-contextual-inferential analysis but often hijacked by the right
for the purpose of aesthetic appreciation.
Every scent is identified and catalogued with
a perfumer's olfactory precision.
There are hints to catch,
spats to be postmortemed,
crucial dates to be inoculated against amnesia,
preferences to be recorded, compared, grafted,
model answers to catch-22 questions drafted,
declarations of adoring allegiance crafted.
The subject’s mind is apparently required to be read,
two sets of past, present, future to be crossbred,
blindness to other females pled.
There are virtues to exaggerate to divine proportions,
flaws to modify to virtues with willful distortions,
desires to mollify by counseling patience,
thoughts to be felt,
feelings to be thought,
vertigo to be fought.
Still the to-do list grows,
the repairing of an attention that no longer spans,
the mistaking of what happens to millions of others daily
as a unique personal miracle,
the confusing of being loved with being special,
the projecting of an untested passion into an eternity,
the steadying of feet that has taken to walking on air,
the murdering of ballads meant to be trilled,
and the admonishing
of that nonchalantly speeding heart
to be still.
WHILE YOU SLEEP
while you sleep
my fingertips
ache and throb on
the keyboard of
my vacant mind
you are my night
that arrives in
one gigantic
step over the
polite lines where
we cast our skins
and slide into
another life
you are my tears
that mollify
burnt moon spheres
upside down hearts
of dripping wax
warnings and fears
you I touch with
feathered intent
over shoulder
blades of tension
easing your pain
tracing a finger
into the dark
corners of your
abstract mind
empty spaces
away from your
embrace
I echo words
onto vacant
pages of your
beautiful mind
© Kim van Breda—11 January 2016
Once upon a time
In the distant past
There was a country
Built by the sweat of her adopted children
And painstakingly through thick and thin
Became God’s own country
The light of the world
Whenever she spoke, the international community stood still
Enemy countries quaked and trembled
While allies scampered to mollify
The police officer of the world
Once upon a time
His Excellency epitomized leadership in times of global emergency
Today that is no more
Glory has departed from God’s own country
She has become a laughing stock in the comity of nations
A vicious and unscrupulous dictatorship is on the prowl
A clown in the mold of Donquizote is holding sway
Executive mendacity has become the order of the day
Don't cry to me America
Rescue your country from American dream gone awry!
Here we are
come ~ bring it
in the morning
at noon
and in the evening
and if time permits you
and your legs could walk you
in the small hours of the night
like one, or two, or three
Here is our dwell
the comforts of all daylong
the market that markets us to feed
Here are our hands
stretch in front of us
awiting you to drop your lacks
You want progress?
You want to ward off evil spirit?
and many more deep down your mind
We are the needy
always at-alert to take your lacks
to mollify our lacks
Come ~ bring it
Ayetoro is our dwell
Be in the raining
we never retreat
rather, we stand and recline our back
on the wall, faces the road
fiddle palms to the merciful lord
who created you and us
Disequilibrium
to take off the barbaric rain
which falls on the young
with no respects for the old
and infuses us pleasant cold
and we shiver like leaves on the stream
although we are one with it
Be in the dry
we never retreat from the endless sun
that burns the skin like igniting fire
our bodies are the junction of dust
although we are one with it
We love and we become one
so we increase as the day moves on
with hope that our posterity
would write a new story
Ayetoro (peaceful life) is a well known street in Osogbo, capital city of Osun State Nigeria.
On dreary morns when rain is nigh
I'm weary of the misty sky
when Autumn's season comes to call
and russet leaves begin to fall.
To Summer I whisper, "Goodbye."
The lilacs petals wilt and die.
Blustery winds cause me to sigh.
Can't cajole them to stop or stall
on dreary morns.
No slumber when things are awry.
Maybe an etching I should try.
Strumming my guitar won't forestall
time that now has come to a crawl.
Foul weather I can't mollify
on dreary morns.
MESSENGER
Blue circles
white lightning
my days vivify
ease pain
mollify
fright nights
and sleep
fighting
red numbered spheres
three bouncing dots
forgive and forget
me not’s
conversations
reparations
private jokes
and
innuendoes
soul breaking
life saving
love in
dialogue
© Kim van Breda—1 January 2016
An Autumn Intermingled
When twilight sends lavender to the sky,
And reflections of light ignite the orange,
(Alluring colours of autumn mesmerise),
Sickle of moon is unable to cut the dark,
(Unfathomed beauty in orange and yellow),
Robust waters of rivers to shores' embark,
(Trenchant evanescence of greens),
Crispy leaves with breeze flutter around,
(Unfeigned emotions true up in zest),
Yellow, orange and red hues surround,
(Mollify the fiery torrid days),
An autumn night awaits a warm welcome,
(Nautical furnaces red on edge of horizon)!
Written March 2nd, 2015
By Dr. Upma A. Sharma
For contest "Intermingle" by Craig Cornish
Awarded 7th place
Original poems intermingled are ------------
1. An Autumn Night
Written September 6th, 2014
For contest 'Autumn night' by PD A
2. Autumn
Written Oct 2nd, 2014
For contest 'Season acrostics' by Charlotte Puddifoot
Among Crowds Mingle
Among crowds always like to mingle
Which does make my soul tingle
Seeing how happy people are
In America in bright new car
An RBI can be caused by a single.
Jim Horn
Here is another word you can think about
without any doubt.
mollify
verb | MAH-luh-fye
Definition
1 :
to soothe in temper or disposition : appease
2 :
to reduce the rigidity of : soften
3 :
to reduce in intensity : assuage, temper
Which is what we need to do with everyone's campaigns.
(In memory of my sister, Linda)
When she appears,
It is my silent call she hears.
She is not a vision or an apparition,
I'm startled, spellbound and mesmerized.
It's a feeling of heaven sent,
With an overwhelming feeling of love.
When I feel her presence,
She has calmly arrived, and is by my side.
The emotional pain begins to ease,
My attention and thoughts mollify.
I hear her whisper, "It's alright."
Just as she did when we were kids.
Although she's gone,
I'm aware of her presence.
It is the little things noticed,
That make me aware she's near.
The fragrance from long ago,
Just a whiff of her perfume.
Her bracelet when I wear it,
Feels so comfortable and warm.
Although people pass,
They are not really gone.
They hover and gently let us know,
They are present, just out of our sight.
©2015 by Lee Christine Brownlee