Best Obliged Poems
On the edge of silence
beyond the mossy-muffled stone wall
a wind chime chants — faint, like falling sparkles of stars—
honeyed musings of a wind spirit on the move
from west to east a bridge of broken chords.
Cosmic animation stirs my domestic pulsation
in a supple sweep from beyond the western dusk fallen,
soft notes jangle in sweet saunter — so like you,
an angel’s riff on an airy whiff —
O wind chanter, I hear you
and I linger in my undying love for him – for I hear you, singer!
Sing to me of his approach!
For alone, on the cold stone of a lifeless dusk,
I mourn the most.
Like powdered night wings looping the lantern’s glow,
I feel the brush of your touch amid the moments’ flutter
a flirtation with a long tress and frills of my nightdress —
O bittersweet enchantment!
O wild yet tender wind — O miraculous visitor!
But how do I hold you? How do I hold the wind, my love?
Always, always! You slip away on blank paper wings!
My human nature aspires to fly but my every heartbeat caged
ironclad in mortal armor obliged in the grasp of gravity’s greed.
Damn this bane of my spirit’s capture
and this coupling yoke of love that did not die with you!
Damn this bane of my lifeblood, bound to its streambed!
Though my wilted river rises with the throb of a tide robbed
not even a river’s rapture can compete with the thrills
of your unbound freedom — oh death’s freedom!
The ringing sleigh bell singing of spring peepers intrude —
O wind chanter – distant wind chime – your tinsel talk fades.
Alas! He is lost to me again—lost! lost! lost!
Categories:
obliged, grief, longing, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
A book that I plucked
from an antiquity of books
filled my nostrils
with a smell that I will always know
and always love.
This love cannot be explained,
but neither could any indifference.
At the back of the hall,
distant from and opposite to
the comical speaker's rostrum,
behind rows of chairs filled
with the attentive and the obliged
and the hands raised in angst
to express righteousness
and cleverness
(look at me ! hear me !),
I, too, would be righteous
and clever some day
(wasn't that clever ?),
but those dusty old books !
And who could forget God's hand ?
It thrust earthword,
its sword gleamed
a split second before cleaving
a wicked man in two,
skull to groin,
a dusty old book
among dusty old books,
explored with petrified daring
by fingers so tiny they're forgotten.
A platoon of books competing,
all to be explored in turn,
some more readily than others,
all old, all dusty, all so rich in scent,
none to be forgotten,
never to be forgotten.
5th July 2020
Categories:
obliged, memory,
Form:
Free verse
At my ripe age it's plain to me
That wisdom can come painfully
But found within our trouble, too
The best of what we humans do
All that's drawn from mind and heart
Is what weaves object into art
Crimping spouts of twisted metal
Changing common can to kettle
Time and Heaven's weep remake
A meager pond into a lake
The finest instrument lays quiet
Without a skillful hand to ply it
Still and barren, paints and brush
Until obliged a master's touch
Pen and paper don't enthuse
Sans a poet's poignant muse
And I am but a hand-less glove
Without my faith in God above
A walking, breathing implement
The tool for His divine intent.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Standard Contest Number 70" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Kettle, Pond, Lake" Poetry Contest, Nayda Ivette Negron, Sponsor.
Categories:
obliged, analogy, art, faith, wisdom,
Form:
Couplet
My Lord, Just One Day With You.....
My Lord, just one day with you will bring my life
back from all the sins that I have done myself
Its true when you had time for me to talk
then I was not prepared to listen to you
But now I realized that your golden words
are the precious to listen and live in this world
My Lord, just one day with you will erased all my worries
from my heart which I have made through sins
Its true you want me to be good and listen to
your precepts but I did not obliged to your words
But now I realized that your precepts are precious
to learn and live happy life in this world
My Lord, just one day with you will bring happiness
into my heart from learning all the lesson from you
Its true when I am under your shelter then the heaven
will keep me away from my worries and fears
But now I realized that without your heavenly blessings
there is no decent life for me in this world my Lord.
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
All rights are reserved @ 2016 Ravi Sathasivam
Categories:
obliged, faith,
Form:
Light Verse
September meets with warm embrace,
quickening the harvest pace,
though looming autumn can't efface
what's left of summer's arid grace.
The linen hanging on the line
dances with the gust and shine,
while maypops heavy on the vine,
with honeysuckle, twist and twine.
The cool grass tickles naked feet
while weaned lambs in the distance bleat,
and find some shelter from the heat
'neath leafy canopy retreat.
The gentle wind so jaunt'ly plays
and tousles copper hair ablaze
like furious dancing autumn rays
from Mabon's fiery upraise.
Through rustling leaves the sunbeams glint,
I catch the balm of sage and mint,
and every herb and floral scent
blown to me by the wind's dissent.
Breathing deep olfactory prose
until the old red rooster crows
waking me from my repose
and from beneath the tree, I rose.
When as I rose, a red leaf fell,
wisping down its last farewell;
a changing season to foretell;
the coming bounty doth compel.
Cicadas loudly buzz along
and sing their end of summer song,
o'er by the thorny brambles throng;
unto the prairie they belong.
By and by, I turned my mind
back to the farm and daily grind,
collecting eggs where I can find;
inside the henhouse, else behind.
The hens put up a bitter fuss
with feathers flying from the truss,
so I let out an angry cuss.
Still, they obliged; allowed me thus.
Upon it all, I took my leave,
finished with my blast and thieve
much to the angry birds' aggrieve;
giving them a day's reprieve.
Outside the coop, behind the fence,
my greedy boar approached me whence,
grunting for his recompense,
and so two eggs I offered thence.
Then on, as careful as I might
into the farmhouse kitchen white,
delivered up the shelled delight
to feed the morrow's appetite.
Upon the ending of this chore,
I happened back outside once more,
to watch the day fade into lore,
and Luna make her grand encore.
-----------------------------------------------
Categories:
obliged, autumn, day, farm, september,
Form:
Rhyme
Accosted many years ago
By the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe
I'm now obliged to come forthright
About that dark eye-opening night.
It's only fair to let you know
I've held a torch for Mr. Poe
It's all because of the ink of his pen
That my love for poetry did begin.
(His sad, sad tale arrested me;
the saddest tale I've ever known.
Small wonder then when he chose me,
an easy prey, home all alone)
Toiling to write like him for years
Happy was I when his ghost appeared.
A tragic figure past, present and now
He entered my room with a humble bow.
And fixed me with a haunting stare
And whispered softly 'life's not fair.'
I nodded my head just to agree
When a strange sensation took hold of me.
Possession felt more than 9/10's of the law
I felt frozen and badly in need of a thaw.
My body, not mine now was his to command;
Just a shell, a mere puppet, at the will of this man.
His voice so melodic, belied malice or vice.
He drew near to the fireplace, the warm hearth felt nice.
There was music, a waltz, seemed familiar {mere chance?)
Embracing the moment we started to dance.
His thoughts were with mine now
And mine were with his
And I swear by my bank book
As long as I live
The unbearable pain of his loss gripped my heart
And the moment I fainted we were ripped apart.
He was anguished at how he had handled his grief,
How his life was cut short by his own inner thief.
He'd wanted to write more
His mind was an ark
Just those few moments with him
Woke the poet in my heart.
And so it happened in just one night
He taught me verse; he taught me rhyme
And stretched my mind to higher heights
That's quite developed over time.
He's never visited my bedroom since
Or with my body had his way.
He left me with this gift or sixth sense
Of a fire for poetry that burns in my veins.
Unfinished business is quite finished now.
Passing on I imparted to him 'quid pro quo.'
'Rest in peace, the whole world
Knows your name Mr. Poe.'
-Reta Pruitt
July 22.2018
Categories:
obliged, emotions, imagery, inspiration, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Omen of hope divine
Oasis of blessed calm
Orchard of my plenty
Obscure, yet almighty
Obliged, I seek you out
Obeisant, I kneel down
Obeying your command
April 5, 2021
Pleiades O Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kim Merryman
Six syllables per line (howmanysyllables.com)
Categories:
obliged, prayer,
Form:
Verse
Never felt obliged
To ask the soil for her thoughts
Before I planted my seeds
Watered and weeded and fertilized
With hands guided by my heart
Not only do I doubt
If she would have given consent
I honestly don’t know
If she would have welcomed
My yearning soul into her home
Of warm, brown earth
Softened by sun and rain
Breathing only precious beads
Of dewdrop dreams
And autumn leaves decaying
Into the depths of her tenderness
Never once did I feel the need
To ask this loam for permission
To plant the flowers and vegetables
The fruits and scrumptious herbs
Which gave me so much sweetness
To feed my palette and vista
I wonder what she would have said
If I’d only asked, possibly pled
For the chance to plant a seed or two
Give into the soil’s longing for compost
To nourish her and give her sustenance
Cuisine made up of manure and muck
Meant to provide her with nutrients
Food to enliven, enlighten and brighten
Her dreams of good things so she’d thrive
Still, I remained silent in my guilt
Stealing her dirt with my shrubs
Never giving her the opportunity to say
If she was ok with my cultivating
Plowing and growing in her reservoir
Of soft, warm soil meant for a nursery
A garden of hopes and dreams and ideas
Gentle lights fading into the shadows
Behind the oaks and pines, where I grew
Truths that remembered to pray
For the sunshine and the rain
The food that would sustain
My stolen garden, grown without consent
From the heart of the earth’s glorious gifts
Categories:
obliged, flower, garden,
Form:
Free verse
I wonder,
Is the soul as happy when she leaves the eternal to be enclosed in the temporal, As she is when she starts her trip to return to her celestial home?
I wonder,
Whether the enlighted soul is as worried when she enters the ignorant body,
As she is when she leaves it and has to account for the success or failure of
Her mission?
I wonder,
Whether the soul is incarnated out of Free Will or is she " obliged " to go Through such an adventure called life?
Finally, I wonder,
Whether one day, we would find answers to these pertinent questions, either In the physical or in the metaphysical realm?
Till then, my dearest friends,
Let our faith lead the way up to our last breath with confidence and trust to
Our Lord's divine plan!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
14 December 2022
Categories:
obliged, god, life, people,
Form:
Free verse
It was time to visit the stars
To embrace them with my senses
Though the price was astronomic
I saved up for the expenses
Most think stars are unreachable
Due to the heat that they emit
But perhaps they’re very cautious
Just like a candle barely lit
To my delight way out in space
I manned microphones to listen
And those astral bodies obliged
With unheard of stellar hissin’
Yet as I approached a star’s sphere
After flying the cosmic trades
The brightness was so intense, that
I had to double up my shades
And I can describe what I saw:
Just imagine a sunrise view
As seen, not through a broad window
But rather in the room with you
So no doubt that shine would lead one
To coming to the conclusion
That stars are inhospitable
But my suit was safe for fusion
I attempted smelling their scent
But was honestly not impressed
As the smell was like burnt popcorn
Which is an odor I detest
I couldn’t say that star was burnt
For that flawed logic is misplaced
Yet that stench made me hesitate
To give a roasted star a taste
Sure it twinkles in the dark sky
Like a sugary cosmic treat
But just like mentioning candy
It would probably wreck my teeth
Lastly, touching a star is like
A swimming pool in the hot sun
With those spots of warmer water
Times a million degrees, plus one
Visiting the cosmos was worth
Having stars arouse my senses
Yet it isn’t for everyone
And comes with some consequences
But don’t you take my word for it
When you are traveling in space
Since stars are an acquired love
To be approached at your own pace
Categories:
obliged, adventure, senses, stars,
Form:
Rhyme
When God said, "Let there be light,"
Nature obliged, with the Sun.
And in the farthest fringes
of deep space; galaxies spun.
Ethereal rays of light;
imbue magic to the day.
And color cottony clouds;
when Dawn chases Night away.
The Sun's coronal aura;
harbors hope's eternal spark.
And illuminates the sky;
shooting sunbeams in the dark.
Darkness is forged from shadows;
where nothing's quite what it seems.
And yesterday's promises;
where scribbled on dying dreams.
You are a creature of light;
that's why you love it so much.
And when Sol caresses you;
your heart revels in His touch.
Categories:
obliged, beautiful, faith, fantasy, imagery,
Form:
Quatrain
Open Letter to Thomas Jefferson
You sir, destination unknown, I dare
To address. A son of worthy causes
For land vast in majesty and vast as
Vast can be in matters of liberty;
With ideals so prim and suffused with
Philosophical forethought derived from
Your bumper harvest of keen knowledge from
Poetry to paleontology;
You the offspring of music and science,
Master of the whims of public forum,
Framer of destiny of the nation,
Bearer of the conscience of masses and
Winning hurdler of political kinks.
Now, the moldering public discourse is
Unbearable. One can no more cover
One’s nose. Nowhere is a silent shelter
From megaphone of ubiquitous din.
Where is a refuge? Simply, know not I.
I beseech you, sir, for learned counsel.
As thundering wildebeest migration
Clouds the slopes of national horizon:
Tulip of your acclaimed Law of Nature
Lies in the path of a roaring rampage.
I beg to ask, why uncanny tactile
Projections of your mind failed to measure
And forecast proneness to such afflictions.
Sir, you did not proscribe such maladies,
Or provide cautionary bells, at least.
Where have all the magistrates gone, I ask?
As I flip pages of your Summary View:
Prefaced by a motto of Cicero:
“It is the indispensable duty
Of supreme magistrate to consider
Himself as acting for community,
And obliged to support its dignity,
And assign to the people, with justice,
Their various rights, as he would remain
Faithful to the great trust reposed on him.”
Your pristine flora of the applied skills
In statesmanship and proper decorum
Is being supplanted by scurrilous
Scions of egocentric rhetoric.
Pails of justice are perceived as empty
By the parched sectors of land of plenty–
Await quenching rain of tenderness, but
Clouds of compassion remain unseeded.
Please forgive the outburst of my verses.
To rein my pen is to muzzle my soul.
Categories:
obliged, america, character, patriotic, peace,
Form:
Blank verse
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,"
Categories:
obliged, 11th grade, farewell, fishing,
Form:
Rhyme
The Lying Tongue
sang a song
The Flattering Tongue
played along
The Know It All Tongue
intended the composition
The Meddling Tongue
held it's position
The Harsh Tongue
kept quiet for once
The Tactless Tongue
reluctantly obliged
The Rude Tongue
got annoyed
The Loquatious Tongue
was soon overjoyed
The Discouraging Tongue
hummed on
The Self-Depreciating Tongue
became withdrawn
The Argumentative Tongue
thought it all wrong
The Boasting Tongue
thought it right on
The Hasty Tongue
felt it was contrite
The Discouraging Tongue
and all this singing
The Indiscreet Tongue's
awkward whistling
The Complaining Tongue's
plodding drone
The Cursing Tongue
let out a no-no moan
The Judgemental Tongue
liked that a lot
The Self-Absorbed Tongue
rolled it's eyes
The Retaliating Tongue
held out a hat
The Intimadating Tongue
offered a prize
The Cynical Tongue
just laughed
The Accusing Tongue
choreographed
The Gossiping Tongue
signed autographs
The Doughting Tongue
crooned the refrain
The Accusing tongue
blasted the blame
The Hasty Tongue
fanned the flames
So the Belittling Tongue
dismissed the party
The Devisive Tongue
composed the ending
And the Silent Tongue
looked on.
* All tongues borrowed from
Categories:
obliged, 10th grade, anti bullying,
Form:
Free verse
Consummated under sheets of inspiration,
Conceived in cryptic dreams,
Created from cloudy concentrations,
The words flowed onto a wrinkled sheet of paper.
I concealed the verse under my pillow,
Entombed beneath my peaceful slumber,
Safe from grating barbarians.
For I do not reside in a steel fortress.
But the poem demanded breath,
And I obliged with wary trepidation.
Exposing naked insights of thought,
To public opinions and consumption.
I was misunderstood in some quarters.
My uneven stanzas documented in dorm rooms,
Lack of rhythm noted in offices,
And style criticized in coffee shops.
But my work was greeted warmly from African savannas,
Treasured in Scotland,
Saluted in London,
And praised from India’s sacred rivers.
In the heartland, school girls knew my name.
Southern belles toasted my talents.
I was pondered over breakfast in Florida,
Embraced in backwoods hamlets.
When I look within,
Searching for the brilliant author,
I question his existence.
The trance, that special state of mind, has passed.
In conscious lucidity I ask the stunning question,
“Who wrote this poem?”
Categories:
obliged, on writing and words
Form:
Free verse