Best Novelties Poems
sporting a colorful chemise
a camera and a valise
temptations so easily tease
roaming as free as honeybees
tourists hear beckonings as pleas
and capture beauty with much ease
tiny things no bigger than peas
or vast expanse of deep blue seas
weeping willows in the breeze
ornate houses of bourgeoisies
candles lit to divinities
friendly playful bitty chickadees
lovable girl about to sneeze
a soldier's return from overseas
referees calling penalties
lovers creating memories
strange amazing intricacies
silly whimsical fantasies
many types of absurdities
two elephants on a trapeze
seven vine swinging chimpanzees
bears savoring delicacies
oddities among novelties
unavoidable catastrophes
moments of awe you want to freeze
as many of these as you please
photos are lovely memories
many worthy of galleries
each artist a fan of what he sees
Published in PoetrySoup's first anthology "PS: It's Poetry: An anthology of contemporary poetry from around the world" Paperback 2020
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~THE MIND'S CANVAS~ 2023
AP: Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2021
February 27, 2018 for FAVORITE RHYMING POEM EVER CONTEST sponsored by LAURA LOO - RANKED 2ND
January 1, 2018 for BEST RHYMING POEM OCT-DEC CONTEST sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON - RANKED 3RD
November 30, 2017 for MERAKI CONTEST sponsored by SILENT ONE - RANKED 1ST
1/16/21
Pure silence or the sound of wind chimes
Willing to do anything to save their own hides
People still committing horrific crimes
During low and high tide
It's been one hell of a roller coaster ride
A whirlwind inside my mind
All these rhymes
Days and nights spent getting sky high
It's seeming like a sign of the times
I say I'm fine, but I'm not alright
Always feels like
I get nowhere when I climb
No matter how hard I try
Can't even look me in my eyes
Quick to assume I'm telling lies
Wasn't the first and won't be the last goodbye
If you let it, quickly time will pass you by
I was reaching the skies
Then taking dives
Achieving nearly every prize
Or living among the mosquitoes and flies
I had many lows and even more highs
I've been a fool, but I'm still wise
You better recognize
And realize
I still get butterflies
While I'm living life, trying to survive
Seeing the moon's glow or watching the Sunrise
Sometimes
It hurts
Feels like I'm cursed
Still I delve and search
Across the Earth
Too many perverts
And jerks
Continue to lurk
Meanwhile snakes out to usurp
As well as nearly every other twerp
Which is why I stay alert
Similar to Captain Kirk
Ready to put in work
First things first
To me it doesn't matter if you did or didn't go to church
For what it's worth
Better or worse
Before I'm in a hearse
And the dirt
I've still got an insatiable hunger and thirst
I know there'll be no effect or a ripple that can domino
Time will tell if we truly are or are not alone
I got to go
And roam
Across the globe
I want to know
From here to way beyond the Galapagos
As well as Guantanamo
Humble and Heroic, doing the impossible
Paying homage and occasionally saying 'Geronimo!'
Feeling like Socrates
Don't need apologies
Traveling across the seas
And on lands fraught with trees
Constantly
Saw what others would not believe
And am going to continue the odyssey
Traveling vertically and horizontally
Staying still or moving with velocity
As folks hold on to animosity
Forever unable to display camaraderie
Not focused on such novelties
People with good and bad qualities
The same can be said for policies
I remain an anomaly
With my own methodology
And ferocity
Holding on solidly
While remaining an oddity
A shored life
awakes the old
patience is a virtue
a wondrous light
a way for the world
one way passage
yielding trifles
abundant returns
nameless faceless
novelties in scrolls
constant to air
The Book of Life
accounts tallies
clearly visible
hidden from sight
chance of a lifetime
warps through glass
bottled sealed.
"Life is an expedition to unknown territories. Adverse winds may veer round and the calm may be disrupted any time, but don't lose hope and pull on" ~ By Poet
Leaving the sheltered confines of the past
We embarked on an expedition, fresh and new,
With the present volume and its contents closed down
To open another and pore over its pages anew.
Everything was calm and still as we set out,
Except the pain of being cast loose from our anchorage
Over the swelling magnitude, we sailed past,
To alight into the novelties of another world.
On the bosom of a tranquil sea, with fleecy clouds above
We moved on to realms, fanciful and new,
And continued to sail over the lolling waters,
Gazing at the finny herds in undulating waves.
But sudden was the turn of wind and weather.
The waves rose to mountain heights.
Thunders bellowed over the wild waters.
And the sea into an aggressive fiend turned.
The billows lashed and crashed over the rocks.
All around was the booming sound of rushing waves.
Flashes of lightning left rents in engulfing gloom,
And the ship, adrift in the roaring currents.
At a point when it was about to drown
The tempest subsided; the sky turned clear.
What Providence has saved us from our peril?
We keep wondering now and ever!
Knowing that tempests will again strike,
And our vessel will be rocked hither and thither,
Now, with greater caution in every move,
With the riggings once more fastened tight,
And with the blue line of a cherished past,
Receding quickly away like a cloud in the horizon,
We continue our expedition, braving the waves,
And sail past to regions far and unknown!
So many years ago but some memories just don't fade.
This wondrous island I lived on is an adventure I'd not trade.
To see things now like I did then through wide and awe-swept eyes
would make me think of a bigger place yet it was a small size.
Twenty two square miles of beauty,coastline,rocky shore.
A biological station that was closed now and even more.
Where we lived a perfume factory used the passion flower.
That pungent fragrance carried through the air with so much power.
Little brother and I would run down to the cliffs below.
We'd search the horizon for ships with many goods in tow.
Deep-sea expeditions were carried out there too.
And not too far from our house was a wild safari zoo.
When we went in to St. George's town we'd wind up on the square.
It was fascinating to see the British selling their wares there.
Silks and jewelry,finest china,novelties of all kinds.
We learned to count in pounds and schillings and had to use our minds.
One day we moved back to the states but I really missed the island;
the cobalt skies and azure waters and crystalline pink sand.
It was a child's paradise with plenty of wonderful things to do.
Those memories have lasted a long time and will forever it's true!
Luna Mutt Natalie’s Puppy
Little Luna licked a lot of lamb lollipops.
A lot of lamb lollipops little Luna licked.
If little Luna licked a lot of lamb lollipops,
Where’s the lot of lamb lollipops little Luna licked?
Mama’s mutt makes many melodic muffled musings.
Many melodic muffled musings mama’s mutt makes.
If mama’s mutt makes many melodic muffled musings,
What are the many muffled musings mama’s mutt makes?
Natalie’s nipper nudges newfangled novelties.
Newfangled novelties Natalie’s nipper nudges.
If Natalie’s nipper nudges newfangled novelties,
Where’s the newfangled novelties Natalie’s nipper nudges?
Playful puppy perched on a purple platform.
On a purple platform playful puppy perched.
If playful puppy perched on a purple platform,
Where’s the purple platform playful puppy perched on?
Bury my heart in trivia.
Keep my mind stuck in minutia.
The dam internet's a sham,
designed to drive man,
off the road into distraction.
Keep me from knowing what is right,
directed by detours to spite,
the dam internet's a scam
designed to drive man,
off the road into distraction.
Instant knowledge gains attention,
knowledge without wit or wisdom.
Human touch replaced by a mouse,
human feelings contained, in house.
conversation within glass fibers.
Real replaced by sad virtuals.
We keep the mass hunger sated.
We keep thinking minds muted.
Bread and circus work to perfection,
novelties make roadkill of traditions.
Real streets contain violence, racism, and malice,
while we genocidists, well protected
and free are now off on a spree
down cyber route six sixty-six.
Is this simply a lone luddite's lament,
or someone's conscious coherent comment?
I no longer know, reduced as I am,
to hitchhiking through mist on a mantra.
The dam internet's a sham,
designed to drive man
off the road into distraction.
Two societies, two cultures, two ways, two worlds,
But the same mechanisms, glares, shuns and goals;
No-one knew the other, but the church had words,
For the special disabled school to adjust their bowls.
No pluralism, no perspective, no individual identities,
Just a passionate disabled self to only mix with flames,
Never allowed to cohere with or love outside entities:
Was indeed suppressed and thwarted for playing games.
This world holds all people and is made of communities,
Which habituate diversities and not similar creations,
That can’t often be specified because of rare novelties:
When an identity is just emerging, it has no derivations.
Acceptance is the yeast of decision, it gives us stance,
And betterment will only come whenever we assimilate;
Integration does not transcend from condescendence,
But prevails when affection does blossom to mediate.
narrative
Precious novelties, rare and unimpaired
reminder of events I'd love to share.
Recalling special trinkets in a hutch
for display only, labeled "Do Not Touch".
Awaiting finding of a misplaced key,
a new piece tempted curiosity.
Too precious to ignore, my small grandson
maneuvered carefully, warned by his mum.
Rejecting caution, which kids oft ignore
forgetful child just left it on the floor.
The next day, sister found it with her foot.
One piece, now three pieces, ruined, kaput.
Comes precious moment, happ'ning on my watch.
The brother faults his sister for the botch
who then returns accusatory blame.
Routine occurrence, 'companied by shame.
The moment builds, we search the house for glue.
Some chips still gone? Hurrah! we find a few.
Together, we three, talking as we work,
accountable, not acting like a jerk.
A precious moment in our history
when that collectible met surgery.
Four years later, standing tall, gath'ring dust
a priceless symbol, joint endeavor, plus.
written Jan. 2, 2013, revised June 29, 2017
Abecedarian
Definition: Abecedarian is an alphabet poem of 26 words in which every word
begins with consecutive letters of the alphabet. It may be in blank verse (not rhyming).
Here, I used a stock market scenario, but please, don’t look for investing advice:
The Stock Market Abecedarian Style
By James E. Tate ©
After building carefully
diversified entities,
Felix gradually helped increase
justifiable keepers.
Leveraged mega-novelties
objectively placed,
quickly rallied substantial trust,
until victims whispered,
“xyz.com yielded zip!”
I dwell on virgin moments lightly spent
beyond the lips of verdant fairy glens
A grand invincibility was mine
and life, ah life, the sweetest purest wine.
I danced on dainty rings of dryad saddles,
I fought and died in bloody, death-less battles
but always mother earth denied a tomb
as though a rootless seed in fruitless womb.
A wild and reckless heart so often pleased
while thrills were fresh and rousing novelties.
When youthful whimsies never found a yawn,
between the ocher fires of dusk and dawn
and life's bold color spectrum never grayed
the sunshine eyes of vibrant, youthful maid.
But then I dared to chance a fatal dance,
escape, be swept away in the romance
of damning, mortal love so circumscribed
by life's short boundaries that death applies.
And in those borders such a fury raged
it slipped my mind that he was Time engaged.
I yearn alone for Time before I learned
to want, to need, to hurt, to love, to burn
for more than what the earth and sun could grow;
for him and mortal life that comes and goes.
No grave-spared hearts could have survived my sorrow,
the anguish greeting infinite tomorrows
for closing peace prevails when death endures
and ends the war with Life's one fated cure.
Eternal life, no less, my gift, my curse,
my soul forever knows a deserts thirst
its mouth wide open dragging sorbent tongue
with these forever cravings of the young.
I'd gulp a bloody Nile, consume Earth's breadth
to quench the thirst, the hunger snubbed by death.
No blade of respite either kills or stills
discomfort in my cries, insanely shrill.
Ten thousand wounds can't bleed the noxious taint
of mortal love complete with Death's constraints.
Nor can the magic of the vernal Fae.
take from the Earth a mound of pall decay.
I loathe the way that I anticipate
the lonesome endlessness of constant fate
when once before I lived for nothing more
than just to see what sunrise had in store.
Ah Life! I would, could I find exodus
espouse my ever-living flesh to dust
or maybe find contempt for Man’s love spells
and damn the man I loved to hell!
One of my relatives, at my mom’s funeral viewing, I can’t remember who
Told me, in a feeble yet vivid voice, how my life will be much easier
Now that my mom is gone and that I can now concentrate on myself, for a change
And I just brushed it off, like how I brush, dusts off of my shoes
Because I knew that she didn’t know me very well, justifiably
Because she has never seen how my heart can open up, like a faucet
Because, she has never seen the depths of me with my passion
And how, in a good day or maybe even, on a bad day
They just, come, pouring out of it,
Come pouring out of me, like raindrops off of my eyes
Like trickles of tears from the murky clouds of the heavens
Like rain on a winter’s night
They are unstoppable
They have a mind of their own,
And they just naturally, come, as they please
And forgive me because I’m just a newbie at this myself
A baby who finally just learned how to appreciate the beauty of each drop
It’s funny because, I’ve always considered myself an artist at heart
Even when my heart has no such novelties to show for it
I’m that singer who can’t sing
I’m that dancer with two left feet
I am that painter who lacks paint
I am that writer who’s afraid of words
I am that poet who writes for no one in particular
But somehow, it just dawn on me like an eclipsing of the solar moon
That I am an artist because I believe in the authority of love
I believe in the language that all artists can understand by heart
And that my mom has always been inside it
She is the poet-extension of me
She’s my muse as well as my fuse
And so in regards to what one of my relatives once said
I really can’t contest any of it now
Because maybe she’s right in some form or another
But not because of my mom being gone
But because of how I feel every bit of my mom essence
Flowing inside the artist in me
December 20, 2015
Turning fortune wheel
picking up creatures at whim
swept up like water
from familiarity
to unscripted novelties
Seeds blown by the wind
odd mix landing where it will
new cycle begins
sprouting in golden riches
or withering poverty
Sickness or beauty
even the power to choose
ends without notice
the judge remains and recalls
choice made to hate or to love.
Secon Place: John Anderson-A Garland String of Tankas-1/12/26
Tenth Place: Brian Strand-All Yours-1/20/21
When the mama doesn't cry
She smiles and kisses her child goodbye,
I see the tears behind her eyes,
Sparkling like sunshine:
"Baby..come back soon"
She says,
But her baby was gone.
Baby Jane had left the world
Hung like the mobile above her cot,
As her mama stood beside
She soaked in the scent of freedom..
The bars of the window that separated them
Spilled assurance from the vacuum
That dwelt within her gullible mind:
Mama smiled again..
"Bye my Baby, Be good my child
Homely charms call me...
Back to my village I shall return,
Before the clouds go wild.."
She waved her hand by the turn,
And Baby Jane was happy..
The eyes she had, had the curious gait
Wandered deep and innocence, bait
The dabblers that didn't notice
Had died her living death.
Rosy cheeks and sultry hair
Doe-eyed beauty, thorough fair..
The novelties of charm for her
Had been mere indulgence of ardor,
She saw the dads and the mums,
The beggars with their deceptions,
Families with happiness strewn
Like flowers on Heaven's doors..
Lone warriors with baggage demeaning
The pursuit of happiness,
She wondered if her quest for life
Had been an oblivion..
Nirvana had led her to..
Baby Jane looked by the turn,
Strangers fluttered like wild butterflies...
The waving hand was just a vision
She sat quietly by the window,
On the leaving train.
Time’s masters, tamers of Nature;
Hunters upon deserts and rocky plains;
Enemies of failure and all the detractors of human stature;
United States; a united people;
Novelties of age but veterans of success,
Inclined to abolish depravities that cripple
The sons of men who with faith profess
Extra-precious abilities of mankind
Denied by the tyrants of ages behind.
Solemn fighters against the recalcitrant norms,
That have separated brother from brother
And maimed the fraternal warmth in homes.
Terrible storms you’ve braved;
Extensive are your boundaries,
So numerous are the paths you’ve paved.
Over division unity of all you’ve chosen;
Fallen are the fetters that bound so often.
America the land of bounty,
Millions are your citizens;
Ever filled with patriotism true and loyalty lofty.
Rich in glory and full of fame,
Invincible on both land and sea; of an indelible name;
Caring for the lame and mindful of the old,
Advanced in civilization; unmatched in silver and gold!
(I dedicate this composition to the dignified people of the United States of America)