Best Navigated Poems
A Debutante’s Ball to Remember
In the autumn of my life, oft have I recalled that superb summer night,
when I finally experienced my long-awaited heart’s delight.
Family and close friends were all ready for my entry into society,
to celebrate it with a grand debutante’s ball filled with gaiety.
In a dreamlike state, I felt like a princess with a golden crown,
making my grand entrance wearing a champagne chiffon gown.
With matching gloves, and a pair of satin shoes on my tiny feet,
my auburn hair was adorned with butterflies and posies sweet.
The ballroom was magically transformed with gas lights all aglow,
and a glittering chandelier reflected on a highly polished mahogany floor.
As the orchestra played, my body and soul were enraptured and consumed
by its rendition of Ravel’s enthralling “La Valse” which pervaded the room.
Elegant ladies were all dressed to the nines in exquisite pastel gowns
of winter white, baby blue, powder pink, pale peach and beautiful browns.
In tacit competition to out-best each other, social charms were well-honed,
as they daintily fanned themselves and gossiped animatedly in hushed tones.
Refined gentlemen in their finely-tailored tails navigated the room to mingle,
keeping an eye out for eligible heiresses beautiful, graceful, and single.
Wafts of mild masculine colognes came from discretely dabbed faces and hair;
while the fresh feminine floral scent of French perfumes permeated the air.
Armed with a full dance card, I waltzed the night away with ardent admirers,
curtsying and coquettishly smiling, moving on to more exciting suitors.
My enchanting evening climaxed with Strauss’s “Vienna Waltz” filling the hall.
Oh, what a tale I will have to tell as my granddaughter prepares for her first ball!
11-21-2014
Contest: Your Favourite Old Poem (06-08-2015)
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Placement: 1st
Contest: Ballroom Delights (12-16-2014)
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Placement: 2nd
Categories:
navigated, celebration, dance, fun,
Form:
Rhyme
Hoisting passions fervid, probing celestial height,
Hypnotized we stood, enthralled in smile of June,
Caressing dreams flirtatious of a romantic night,
Reaffirming love, beneath the strawberry moon.
Pulsing beats heavenly, fantasies esoteric chased,
Thrilling realm of love, resonating deep in your heart,
Content in your embrace, as memories intimate traced,
Echoes of promises eternal, forever vows impart.
Seeing you rejoiced, snuggled in my loving arms,
Nary a cloud dared to encumber cerulean skies,
As you navigated sight through opaline sea of stars
Tantalizing flame of passion, sparkling doting eyes,
Having been wooed by mystical glimpse of Luna,
Proffering blush of aura, tantalizing romance,
Bedecking tints orange upon luminous rosy awe
Seducing stance-entranced of enamored glance,
Gazing with throbbing hearts, where desires croon,
Hypnotized we stood, enthralled in smile of June,
Humming melodies, in sync with the celestial tune,
Reaffirming love, beneath the strawberry moon.
Categories:
navigated, moon, romantic,
Form:
Rhyme
Written: December 23, 2023, For Robert James Liguori Contest
________________________________________
Life must be navigated without family pain.
Sins that grab the dirt below leave a stain.
Wrongdoings profoundly wound the heart.
Wrongs compel us to feel like targets apart.
Can we avoid future wrongs if we forgive?
Is it better to let go of grudges or to sieve?
Life is full of hurts and scars that all us face.
Disdain, pride, criticism, sarcasm, disgrace.
No type of love that can weather any storm.
A display of virtue outrivals a hatred swarm.
We are in an era when love is seen as a delight.
A bond falls when there is no sense of insight.
Rejecting wickedness is a crucial life insight.
If a smart person bears evil well, we can fight.
The grace to endure affliction and shame.
To fight off evil, avoid reprisal, rage, or declaim.
Was forgetting a condition of forgiveness?
To ignore it is to miss the tip: lenient grimness.
A major harm can't be erased from memory.
Pardon is a duty to offer optimism and reverie.
To some, forgiveness is a sign of weakness.
Forgiveness needs heroic work and boldness.
Furious individuals escape quite easily.
Creative dialogue solves this issue gleefully.
The best approach to surviving this world.
is to request forgiveness and be unnerved.
A balance is present in this chaotic universe.
Just let life happen and live it without a curse.
Allow God to handle the care of the wrath.
Love is the central theme; it paves the path.
By forgiving injustice, humans can heal.
Man needs time to forgive; thus, mercy is a deal.
5th place contest winner
Categories:
navigated, analogy, angst, appreciation, forgiveness,
Form:
Rhyme
I envy those living as part of the wild
For I too, once heeded its call
A smoldering ember since I was a child
Urge, and belonging all part of the thrall.
I’ve enjoyed the fresh taste of a sparkling stream
Felt the tremble as you push through your fear
Stood high on a peak admiring Gods scheme
Felt both delight and remorse for taking a deer.
I’ve walked for weeks through valleys and trees
Traversed mountains with lush native grass
Felt the warmth and the cold of high country breeze
Navigated tussock, forests and high country pass.
I’ve smelt autumn rain as it mingles with dirt
Enjoyed the isolation of me and my views
Valued crude shelter while nature unleashes its hurt
Watched forest birds doing their best to amuse
But I’m now destined to be one of societies slaves
In a world where worth is measured by cash
Where worry and stress are delivered in waves
Where those without are regarded as trash.
I felt most alive in the middle of nowhere
Now dead when hemmed by city and streets
Nothing compares with fresh mountain air
Living free, no money, bills, or receipts.
Categories:
navigated, humanity, journey, life, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
4/27/17
Winter, Spring, Summer and Autumn
Changes rarely or often
Occuring by the top of the river mouth and at the bottom
Near and far from fruits and vegetables still fresh or rotten
As well as any flowers starting to blossom
Fields full or barely with any cotton or pollen
House that do or don't have a black cauldron
On the walls paintings or posters of batman and robin
I stood solemn
And navigated inbetween columns
Before I saw a downtrodden
Individual with the stature of gollum
They were drinking some concoction
Out of a goblet and eating an opossum
Inside a sodden area full of toxins
I had options
But stopped to talk and help if they had a problem
Untrusting and unresponsive
Until they started to soften
When I spoke truthfully, they began feeling awesome
Then reached the goal, by using their noggin
Realizing we all are allotted
So much time even if more is what you wanted
Whether or not you paid homage
And seeked wealth and knowledge
Always had a little or a lot in common
Many a times I have fallen
Been long forgotten
Heed with caution
And watch it
I'm coming in with more speed than an aeronautic rocket
And the force of a super sonic comet
Sorry that it makes you uncomfortable and on the verge of being
about to vomit
No I'm not, to be honest
The reason the house is so called haunted
The monster underneath your bed and inside your closet
With more clarity than any prophet
Amid molecules that split or bonded
Lines remained dotted
Or connected in and out of any quadrant
As the universe was in constant
Motion with occasional paradoxes
By: Dalton Ogletree
Categories:
navigated, poetry, rap, word play,
Form:
Rhyme
Within my psychedelic psychosis divided by hell’s malignant mitosis,
Navigated by narcotized neurosis absorption through opiate osmosis…
Within my lunatic leverage of will, I needed to miraculously madly mill,
The negligent neurons of my ill amidst a faltering fragment of my spill.
My eyes that bear the bevel upon derelict distortions of a devious devil,
Laboring the leprous level of the seismic seizures that I neatly nestle…
In the abyss of my lacrimal laugh, I stand segmental with my satirical staff,
Decorative deceptions on my behalf as I stare at the world a genuine gaffe.
No real resolution to ponder for the quicksand of mind quivers yonder,
A sinkhole of a weeping wander amongst sacrifices of a slaving squander…
Thus in my sanctimonious seclusion within my catacombs of confusion,
The universe disperses diffusion along with programmatic parallel illusion.
June.06.2019
Eight Word Challenge
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Placed 5'th...Thank You
Categories:
navigated, identity, mental illness, solitude,
Form:
Rhyme
Mom’s Night Before Christmas
T’was the night before Christmas
Downtown stores they were packed
Shoppers looking for deals
Bargains bound to attract.
My mother navigated crowded streets with care
She put off Christmas shopping until Christmas Eve
Knowing the sales would still be there
She would check off her list – this she believed!
Every year, the same game
This her habit, her tradition
Christmas Eve shopping – her claim to fame -
Like a wise woman on a mission
All parking lots said no room in the inn
Garages full, nary a spot in sight
But mom didn’t worry, slowly she grinned,
She knew the secret for parking this night.
Singing Silver Bells, her favorite carol,
With visions of gifts purchased, just in time,
She wore her mantra like festive apparel
“There’s always room at the head of the line.”
Lo, and behold, what appeared
One parking place at her favorite store
Quickly she zipped in filled with Christmas cheer
Ready to finish her holiday chores.
There’s always room, her holiday legend,
One she passed on to me, thankfully,
When finding a mall space I look to Heaven
“Thanks, Mom!” I say with Christmas glee.
Miracles happen at this time of year
In positive thinking believe
A star in the sky – a Savior appears
All of life’s burdens to relieve.
12-6-22
Contest: T’was the Night Before 3
Sponsor: Joseph May
Every year on Christmas Eve my mom would drive downtown to do her Christmas shopping. With every garage and parking place taken, she would, every year, find a place to park in front of the door to her favorite store!!!! Her mantra lives on – “There’s always room at the head of the line!” Perfect for the belief in miracles at Christmas!
Categories:
navigated, christmas, mother,
Form:
Rhyme
I saw a dazzling rose,
Whose red petals cast blinding hues upon me.
She shot her cupid arrows from the Kabaka’s backyard,
And punctured the cocoon of my innocence.
My heart burnt for a feel of her spangled petals,
My ferocious passions lost their sturdy grip on restraint as
I, like a pollen-famished bee, sniffed her whiff;
I gorged on her rosy scent, like a Don Quixote.
Then, I plucked her off the tribal bough;
And navigated the Nile River with her,
Tacked in the valves of my heart,
For a cross boarder allogamy.
What a welcome from my kinsfolk!
Furrows ridging the faces of my kinsmen,
Spittle of disgust masticating the hungry soils,
Grey beards wagging and waging a silent war;
Alien!
Categories:
navigated, lost, lost love, love,
Form:
Free verse
try as I may I don’t remember
the forest from the trees
neither surreal lands journeyed
nor celestial seas I’ve navigated
all faraway beyond our earthly realm
no not one meant for mere mortals
in the morning the slate wiped clean
I have no hint of recollection
a vague reminiscence of mystic travels
amnesia of my rendezvous with you
I can’t remember the trees
from the forest of my dreams
but if that’s the price to pay
that’s fine that’s fair as long as
I keep waking with a smile and
in a haze the memory of you
knowing some day my day will come
and together we will be
your hand in mine you’ll walk me
through the forest and the trees
AP: 3rd place 2021
Posted on April 12, 2021
Categories:
navigated, dream, fantasy, grief, lost
Form:
Free verse
The Timeball
sits atop of a tower
at Point Gellibrand - a quaint
relic of the past when,
well over a century ago,
ships at anchor in the Bay
would set their chronometers
as the ball descended
at precisely 1pm each day.
The Timeball is still in use
though not for its original
purpose but to serve
the curiosity of the tourists.
I often sit there
and watch the spectacle,
the ball lowering at 1pm,
check my phone time to see
if both are in sync - they
always are. I think
of the seafarers who navigated
the high seas with instruments
tuned to its time. They are all
gone now, exist only in old
photographs hung in the local
maritime museum.
The Timeball survives and I
wonder whether if they,
like me in darker moments,
saw it as a slow guillotine
slicing yet another day
off their lives.
I wonder too if they, like me,
looked out over a wider
world beset with strife,
saw the Timeball fall as if
counting down to some
uncertain catastrophe
gathering somewhere ahead.
For them it was the horror
of two world wars.
For me and my age it is
that thick, sulphuric mist
spread out on the horizon,
still shapeless and yet drawing
ever nearer and will not stop.
Its menacing advance measured
day by day at 1pm
when the Timeball drops
Categories:
navigated, future, history, time,
Form:
Free verse
In Space or Spaced Out
Bones grow feeble without gravity
This is a serious matter, not to be taken lightly
Blood fails to reach the brain
We must bear this in mind
Space cannot be navigated by the light headed
The semi conscious, on a journey with such a faint map
Think on this seriously, it is not a joke
Spaceships lost in the heavens is a hellish consequence
Sentient beings drifting half conscious is senseless
Concentrate your thoughts so that we do not scatter
Debris in the galaxies, cleverly made
And stupidly lost.
Categories:
navigated, adventure, confusion, humor, lost,
Form:
Blank verse
Five gray, silver, and white haired crones
Navigated slimy green stones
Like tight rope walkers
Having been summoned by the wind talkers
They crossed a shallow creek
Each feeble and weak
They entered consecrated woods
Wearing cloaks and hoods
Upon awareness of being pursued
Their minds were filled with frantic thoughts of how to delude
The shadow of death
With quickened pulse and breath
One step ahead of the reaper
With soothing thoughts of being embraced by the time keeper
Five naked, old women swayed hand in hand around a fire
As the flames got higher and higher
They called the watchtowers of East, South, West, and North
And owl, bat, and snake to guard the circle as they issued forth
All while chanting hail and glory
To the goddess of folklore and story
Hecate-protector of witches
Grantor of youth, abundance, and riches
Torch and key bearing Lady of the crossroads
Divine matriarch of ancient wisdom and hallowed codes
The crones mixed a cauldron brew of aconite, mandrake, and myrrh
Intoxicated by the fumes-their vision began to blur
They drank their potion from a dragon engraved silver chalice
Upon the wings of ecstasy they ascended to Hecate’s palace
With the matron’s touch their third eye was opened to sight
The could see all that was once concealed and interpret at the speed of light
They began passing through life fast forward then reverse
Five old women joined together to avoid life’s inevitable curse
They danced and chanted from midnight to dawn
Wrinkles and sagging-fading-then gone
Eyes locked, stumbling, and entranced
Being transformed and enhanced
Gifted with immortality
Enlightened by the superior mentality
They Rhode the lightening back to the earth realm
To walk forever in the shade of the witches elm
Five blonde, red, and brown haired ladies
Escaped from the brink of Hades
Departing from the Goddess’ embrace
Five youthful women left their Divine Mother’s sacred, secluded place
With her guidance, they strolled out of the woods, and jumped a shallow creek
No longer feeble and weak
They returned to civilization
Disguising themselves and their realization
For they would be persecuted and walk through the flame
For bearing Hecate’s name
But one day upon hearing the Lady’s command
They shall rise up and once again take her hand
Categories:
navigated, magic, , cute,
Form:
Rhyme
A poem I shall attempt to write of heavenly delight,
About all the wonders that shine deep in the night.
There is so much more than the Moon and stars above,
From the earliest navigators that fell heavily in love.
All those that sailed across all the known seas,
They all relied on the stars and many of these.
Often they would follow the morning and evening star,
Just one of five planets that they knew of so far.
Mostly guided by many and many they certainly knew,
Galileo saw much beauty in the Southern Cross too.
The Earth spinning at one thousand and forty miles per hour,
Still, they could master the art of using star power.
So what could they do when a storm came through?
Just stay at the helm and keep the wheel true.
And what could they do if the wind blew them off course?
Pray to the heavens that their sails could take the force.
For life as a sailor meant much more than hard labour,
They had to read stars in constellations to favour.
Forty-eight constellations before eighteen hundred and eighty-eight,
They existed well before the others gathered at a later date.
Then becoming eighty-eight constellations for a general to know,
And used the Pole Stars that never disappeared as they go.
Using particular stars that would always rise and set,
Knowing portside and starboard and which side they met.
In the third century BC, the Greeks used the Little Bear,
These days called Ursa Minor, now navigated from there.
Once Draco was closest to the North Pole than Polaris,
Between Ursa Major and Ursa Minor are the stars over Paris.
The sextant became the most used instrument for navigation,
Before then they had to understand the winds interpretation.
Today a compass is used with the true direction of North,
Every ship you will find has one that leaves every wharf.
But a star gazing soul has no use for a compass rose,
They'd rather get lost and just follow their nose.
For there is something to be said for this lost ancient art,
And I'm sure a true sailor is born with stars in his heart.
Categories:
navigated, beauty, boat, ocean, sea,
Form:
Couplet
Sleeping through a sturgeon moon:
Plump with caviar roe, green like corn,
swollen with grain, full and red burning,
squinting through forest fire,
pigeon-holed by sky and telescope,
barked at by howler monkeys at dusk,
woken by screecher owls at dawn,
navigated on by explorers,
wished upon by natives,
wondered at by archaic sapiens.
Your pull is strong, I’m sleeping through
Wait for the wane, anticipate the new.
Categories:
navigated, august, conflict, earth, nature,
Form:
Free verse
We were out on our yacht for the long weekend.
We boated in luxury until Monday did descend.
Lake Winnipesaukee provided a spectacular view.
My father-in-law Frank, and our two dogs made up our crew.
Our chow dog Molly particularly loved the boat.
She drew a cheering crowd when we were afloat.
We set off with the blue skies, and a refreshing breeze.
My husband Dave navigated the big boat with ease.
We rode for about an hour until we picked our spot
To anchor and swim, as it was getting hot!
We stayed there swimming and enjoying the time,
When I noticed a parasailer starting to climb.
I was enthralled with the parasailing sight,
And wanted to experience a flight.
We motored over to the parasail boat,
And before you know it that was all she wrote.
I was 200 feet in the air, flying like a bird.
I was euphoric, and my joy could be heard.
When I came down from cloud nine,
Frank became a believer that parasailing was divine.
Looking back now, we shouldn’t have entertained the thought.
Frank was eighty years old, and disaster could have been brought.
But Frank had decided, and they hooked up his harness.
We prayed all would go well, and be harmless.
His Dad slowly ascended toward the azure skies.
This was an old man that was flying high!
He soared like an eagle high above the lake,
Then returned smiling, proving he had what it takes!
Your Very Best Rhyme Contest
Brenda Chiri sponsor
6/9/17
Awarded third place
Categories:
navigated, adventure, boat, family, memory,
Form:
Rhyme