Best Negates Poems
Follow me, my dear, to mythical shores of hypnotic dream,
Sail on my fantasies, driving passions of your zealous theme,
Afloat on tides of longing, musing on love’s passionate seas,
Vying paradise of bliss, propelling desires love-notions seize,
Savoring you in embrace romantic, ecstatic till the end of time,
Extolling life’s moments euphoric, alluring our love in prime.
As gilded smile of rising sun, sparkles gleaming skyline blue,
And ruby rays of dawn twinkle from glinting morning dew,
And meadows of spring-blossoms enthrall your fervid view,
And songs of our doting hearts, strumming love-tunes woo;
Cherishing memories enamored, forever vows we renew,
In Elysium of happiness, fate designed just for me and you.
Follow me, out of bleakness that questions meaning of life,
Follow me to enlightenment that negates angst of strife,
Follow me afar from the void of materiality, ego, and pride,
Follow me to the realms, that wisdom and virtues abide,
Follow me to self-awareness, questing halo of inner light,
Follow me on path to eternity, within walls of this life finite.
Azure-accentuated ambiance awaits aspiring artists
Baby’s birth brings blessings, blowing boredom-blues
Cool calmness charms circumspect chefs to create cuisine cravings
Daybreak dos and don’ts discipline drivers from direction-dazzles
Enlightenment-exercise empowers engineers in their endeavors...
Fiery fluorescent fearlessness fuels firefighters’ faith-fortitude’s fervor
Glowing grace of God gears guardians for guiding governance
Hope highlights health-helpers’ handlings midst heightened heaviness
Illumined instructors inspire with their influence-iridescence
Justice-jubilation juxtaposed with jurisprudence-judgment joins jury...
Kaleidoscopic kindness-keys keep kinship’s knot kindling
Light’s luster leads liberation-lovers to lift the lamenting and lowly
Morning’s majestic magnificence moves mothers with mercies'* might
Nourishing nurses’ nurture and nature negates night’s negligence
Overwhelming opportunities open officials for output-optimization...
Peace-packed period pulls prayer-partners into Providence presence
Quality quotes quiet the querulous' qualms and quixotics' questions
Redolent reflections refocus reviewers against regretful reveries
Spiritual songs by soprano soloists shut silence-stillness
Triumphant thanksgiving tops tight timetable of tenacious teachers...
Ultimate urgency upholds undaunted umpires unto usefulness
Verses vanquish vanities vying against vision of the victors
Watchfulness warmth wakes the weary to welcome words of wisdom
X rays of ‘xpertise ‘xamination x-out ‘xpectations for a Xanadu
Yes-yells yearn for youth yielded yeah-yowls from yesterdays’ yets
Zion's zephyr zooms the zealously zestful to zenith of prize-zillions!!!
*Lamentations 3:22-23 It is of the LORD'S mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning:
great is thy faithfulness.
Abecedarian and alliteration forms
July 28, 2018
Edited on May 19, 2022
1st place, "ABCEDARIAN POEM" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger; judged on 6/4/2022.
The sound of silence- writing on the wall;
do not disturb their sound of silence song.
They turn their back- aversion to the brawl;
it's not our problem- license for their wrong.
They know, and without looking, close their eyes;
it's not our problem- so they shut their ears.
The sound of silence rings throughout his cries-
the victim now, abandoned, with his fears.
The writing on the wall- the message sent;
the victim stands alone- his hour of death.
Their eyes and ears are shut to his torment;
the sound of silence heard in his last breath.
It's not our problem, 'sound of silence' screams.
Their backs are turned, alone the victim lies;
the writing on the wall negates his dreams
of strangers who could stop his sad demise.
So like a cancer silence soon surrounds-
much harder to react than walk away;
creates a barrier to sights and sounds.
It's not our problem- sounds of silence say.
Oh Love- how it sweeps in and grabs two hearts
It makes two souls never want to part
The excitement and wonder that feels the spirit
Negates any cynicism, it just won't hear it
There's courting, commitment, even marriage
Time brings a bundle in a baby carriage
Circumstances get harder and money gets tight
It often feels that nothing goes right
Words are spoken and feelings get sore
It just isn't the way it was before
The fighting gets frequent-- part of everyday life
He shuts down and she's a discontented wife
They both hurl around the word divorce
And after the battles, there's no remorse
The mind rules the ego and shuts down the heart
Husband and wife spend more time apart
Baby's in the middle; it's a cryin' shame
Mommy and Daddy are pointing the blame
Somthing's got to give, what will it be?
Could love be gone so completely?
Save it or leave it are the only two choices
Listen to your heart and no other voices.
The quote is from William Shakespeare's play, Hamlet,
spoken by Hamlet in Act 3, Scene 1.
"To be or not to be, that is the question."
But, what's the explanation of- to be?
Hopes for more than only one suggestion;
and so, I offer this which pleases me.
To be is that one choice tween life and death,
not only of the flesh but of the mind.
And choosing life is being with our breath;
and feeding thought creates life well-defined.
Yet, some may say that life's not just to be,
and brush off any joys it holds within;
to shut their minds to blackness others see
no matter in the ground or 'neath the skin.
Some say great life just happens on its own-
those highs and lows exist beyond our will;
that happenstance determines path alone-
in what we'll end up feeling- pang or thrill.
The choice is yours: with hope, it is to be;
the opposite negates life's grander prize.
Must live life to its fullest guarantee;
block not- just be, no need to compromise.
Not for the contest
No more do I despair
writing for contests with an off the wall theme
Those that want me to create a nightmare
from what was once a beautiful dream.
No more do I care
about Marvel characters who fight and kill
I'd rather spend my time writing silly limericks
for fun and honing a particular poetry skill
than worrying about meter and syllable tricks.
No more do I write
for contests where a sponsor forbids me to choose
how many spaces I indent each middle line
by someone who thinks they're a bard. No, I refuse
to write for a yobo whose rules constrict and confine.
No more contests
do I enter for judges who hold grudges and spite
or who offer friendship placements with a wink.
It's not fair to good poets who get N/A'd as a backbite
I've no more interest in participation with pen and ink
No longer care
to write for judges who give novel length instruction
Yes, rules should be followed, but not to such extreme.
It negates poetic license, serving as a poetic obstruction
making that contest sponsor, head of his or her regime.
No more writing
for those who prohibit adjectives and adverbs be used
or if the sponsor has never written in the specified form.
The power that some feel as a judge can be abused
while preaching about dos and don'ts from a platform.
Oh, spare me
from those who don't know the use of literary devices,
metaphors, proper grammar, and over doing alliteration.
To anyone who wants to enter contests, my advice is...
"Don't take a crown seriously. It will lead to abdication."
No more issues
to deal with sponsors who change their minds midway
through contests because no entries for the theme... bizarre,
and decide, without warning they have the right to say,
"I can do what I want." Who made them the contest czar?"
No blight is this
on judges who sincerely host, giving up their leisure time
to make PS a place where everyone can take an active part.
Those who appreciate good fun in free verse or with rhyme.
I applaud the fair-minded sponsors who have a good heart.
A few weeks ago, I decided to not enter PS contests any longer.
Your voice in echo haunting me
Whisper words that resonate,
They call in dreams persistently
And speak of Love that Truth negates.
For you were gone before the morn
You grayed the sunshine from my days,
The faded Trust was never born
These tears remind me that always.
If Sleep would come without a dream,
Oh such comforting release!
The gentle Silence sings it seems
Of songs that drown your voice with ease.
Your echoed Love, please speak no more,
Accord me rest and new tomorrows!
Mute that voice just like before
When my heart knew of no great sorrows.
August 3, 2009
Cynthia BuhainBaello
The only thing that hurts me so:
Your saying, "No can do."
I burned my list of painful things
And crossed the line for you.
I know you mean not shatter hearts,
A noble deed indeed.
But sometimes fact negates intent
And crashes at full speed.
My love is not conditional,
But I must gain control.
I must restrain myself so much
It empties out my soul.
Promise me that you will try,
A promise you won't break.
I'm not supposed to speak a word.
A risk I had to take.
I can't traverse back to that place
'Cuz I've been bad enough.
My friendship you will always have
As long as you hang tough.
I know not what you're dealing with
And maybe that's for best.
I can only sit and hope
And pray you pass this test.
There's one thing I must Post Script.
You know you're my North Star.
We cannot correspond like this,
But I'll never be that far...
A mi Estrella Norte
“God alone is, the all there is ~
Feel within, His vibrant bliss fizz”
_____________
Inbuilt prejudice,
as beliefs that hiss,
negates divine light
and bliss beats delight.
Mind’s designed to size,
compartmentalise,
whilst God and we’re one,
glowing like the sun.
Innate aliveness
is one with oneness,
until scarred by mind,
gripped in ego’s bind.
Jesus and Buddha,
Shiva and Durga,
are each love essence,
God’s luminescence.
Religion’s a crutch.
Learn to love by touch,
each moment complete,
vibrant, bliss replete.
21-June-2022
Within a night, a simple crop field has been transformed into a magnificent work of art, the overnight cryptic formations capture the attention of all as the large section of the crop has been tamped into marvellous morphic designs of art, rings and other intricate accomplished geometric patterns.
Edges so neat, it appears that they have been crafted meticulously with most advanced gadgets, with such precision that even though the stalks are bent, they are not damaged at all.
One scientific theory explains the spinning columns force a burst of air down to the ground, which flattens the crops, yet the myth remains how can a few seconds works of spinning air creates such intricate and absolutely perfect circles, sometimes plain, sometimes circles within the circles with myriads of meticulous patterns within patterns? Some says aliens hands behind, some negates them as man-made hoaxes.
Wonder! People close to those rings of crops, encounter strange physical and emotional reactions as the circles rotate clockwise and anti-clockwise as unseen hands or remote controls are controlling them from unknown realms.
From Hollywood magic to spirits of secret weapons, from evidences of UFOs to erudite explanations, there is something hypnotic in their architectures, in their cryptic presences, in their aesthetic textures for inquisitive minds to continue further quests to unravel their enigmatic riddles.
© Silpika Kalita
In this world that I live in, man has lost over and over again.
He can’t win from his sins and he is damned.
He formed a country for his freedoms, but he enslaved people and
oppressed the origin and now he negates another.
When will he learned that forgiveness is not known.
That his tomorrows are his troubles for what he has done.
Hello (from) the other side.
I know I ruminate the mind.
Within the statuses of man, life is prominence to the power he has.
His significance is that of enslavement and oppression.
His freedoms he demanded brought him to our shores.
That of North America.
Once vacated, he manifested his vision.
His mission has become tainted and his life is unchained to do more evil.
Hello from the outside.
Your reflections - described.
Rune descents pit.
Symbolizing terrific fits.
Massive to suicide as they take lives.
Focus is occult.
Terror diabolically sought.
Will it stop - Will it stop now?
Hello (from) the other side.
A mind - revived.
Caucasoid
White boys
Who I speak of?
What is wrong with this world -
No true religion?
Are they atheist – non-believers?
Hello from the outside.
Harbinger of time...
A free thinker personified.
______________________________________|
Written January 16, 2016!
stagnation a trait
which many soon come to hate
for what it negates
refusing to look, see, hear
beyond beliefs most hold dear
hardening one's mind
to those seeming unrefined
yields socially blind
unaware people are blend
of diverse thoughts, forms and trends
becoming like rock
which requires an extreme shock
to look past own flock
know evolution's in play
existence makes new each day
stagnation a curse
making humanity worse
stuck on self-same verse
closed minds have great distinction
which leads straight to extinction
THE X-FACTORS
I was told that structure forms from idioms.
That to construct vision is a way of seeing what needs to be done.
This is when norms of humanity are formed.
However, do the norms of God supersede all?
Would this mean a voice is only a voice?
That laws do not have to be followed.
That a hidden culture is manifestation of a society that is lawless.
Being that laws can be removed by mediums unknown,
Like fabrication that corrupts a system such as judicial.
A circumstance, quality, or person...
A strong but unpredictable influence...
A factor that is label with an X.
A crisis that must be corrected.
The statuses of a mind significance must be rightful.
To allow lack of discretion though illogical intelligence, destroys the powers vested via the Constitution.
To establish an instrument of government, is to become a language understood.
A voice that brings logic to the multitude.
Yet, do the norms of God supersede all?
As a world govern by created life, our composition is to establish law.
Why walk a mindful journey along?
The X-factor labels wrong.
A strong but unpredictable prejudice of power.
A crisis that must be remedied.
A circumstance, quality, or person that negates social justice.
An erratic onset of disfavor through social injustice done by political leadership un-indemnify those that are injured.
The X-factors must be destroyed.
A political focus that can manifest war.
____________________________________________________________________|
Written May 25, 2016!
Here stands a man who's just about to blow a gasket,
he has far too much washing in his basket,
he never asked for such a load,
and he feels it's time to hit the road,
before he does something he regrets,
I wouldn't be placing any bets,
on him sticking around for much longer,
the feelings inside him are growing stronger,
by the second, by the minute,
he really feels he's landed in it.
And all because his employment,
takes all his time, negates enjoyment,
he feels that it is sucking him dry,
and he really has the urge to fly,
to get away from his wage slave life,
the daily back watching, for the knife,
that is often stuck into the unwary,
the workplace is becoming very scary.
No loyalty exists there any more,
I think a lot of people know the score.
A numbers game is all it is,
the bottom line, do the biz,
because if you slow down, there are many,
worse off than you, who to make a penny,
they'd gladly jump into your shoes,
and ensure their gain, would mean you lose!
As a writer, people are my vocation.
As for humanity, men, women
And other abstractions,
Their interests constitute little more
Than my hobby; I can only deal in people.
As soon as I start dealing in sects
And sections, I am either an insider
Or an outsider, and I feel lost as either
And as soon as I feel lost,
I make no attempt to find myself,
But simply retrace my steps
And return to the people.
You can call me detached if you like,
But you see, the only way
I can remain sane as a person
With such an all-consuming instinct
For attachment, is to be detached.
The world of subjectivity
Holds no sway over me,
Because it is paradoxically impersonal,
Being affiliated to partisanship,
Sentimental causes and other such abstractions.
I couldn't possibly belong
To a school of orthodox thought
That accepted me as a member.
I don't believe in myself
Other than as a crystal clear container
For the freshest cream of human individualism.
When I was younger,
I ached to be famous for the sake of it,
But now it occurs to me
That anyone can be famous
Provided they are sufficiently audacious
And thick-skinned, and I desire fame
Not so much for the vain satisfaction
Of being seen and known and heard,
But in order to guide others
Towards a happier way of being,
The only precept for celebrity,
Indeed for being in general, as far as I can see.
Adversity seems to be my fate,
As well as fortune.
The meek ones gravitate to me.
I'm the prince of the hurt ones,
The damaged ones.
I resent all success and authority.
I'm so affectionate one moment,
So icy and evasive the next.
I'm in love with many people at present.
I over-accentuate my individuality,
Because sometimes I look at myself
In the mirror and I say:
"Who's that pathetic wreck?"
The more complex you are,
The less you like yourself,
Because you frighten yourself.
The more I find myself liking someone,
The more I doubt us both.
Liking someone negates them for me.
("An Aphoristic Self-Portrait" was based on a series of teeming informal diary entries made in various receptacles in the late 1980s. "The Compensatory Man Par Excellence" originally formed part of a novel written - at an estimate - around 1987. Its fate remains a mystery. "Self-Portrait" may also once have been part of it.)