Best Occurring Poems
"Sequence of Love"
Love possesses many faces
occurring in romantic places
culminated by embraces ...
Love illuminates the soul
intertwining halves to whole
fulfilling a human, earthly role ...
Love radiates rare quality
increasing to a sweet degree
of everlasting ecstasy ...
Love invades enchantingly
perhaps, appears repeatedly,
but only once, comes sacredly ... eventually ...
What is life?
Euphonies, cacophonies and chromosomal anomalies
intertangled destinies and illusive methodologies
Occurring in obscure dimensionless time
Millenniums fertilized to create the sublime
Perceived by ideations so pure it would seem
To exist beyond mind and to all in between.
Lingering as lore to an all distant past
There is no redo, there is no redraft.
The questions, the answers so rightly proclaimed
are composed and transported by thoughts still unnamed.
In limited struggle, the moments unspent
Become the result of a living lament.
In what and wherefore and why and with whom
we unwrap our existence in this paradoxical womb
Can we find meaning, a clear sign that we see
inclusive to all, this existential decree.
From naught made of all and conceived in a star,
we landed on earth, neither near nor afar
For reasons unknown and telegnosis unclear,
These salient projections are all jockeyed by fear
We stand in the way of unknowing surmise
And find the world is still much a surprise.
A quest overwhelming in distressed sanity
For answers not known play havoc to vanity.
To end these remarks with a questionable phrase
all becomes known in 'one of these days.'
SYNOPSIS
From the moment of birth to when we die, life presents us with dilemmas and questions that amuse, titillate and confuse us. As we get older, we realize that what we thought we knew was all pure conjecture. This poem is meant to reflect the myriad of disjointed thoughts that have run through my mind throughout the years. The "why me?" and "what is my purpose in life?" questions usually are met with ambiguity and incoherence.
Many of us are beleaguered with these conceits and although some find solace in religion, for people like me it becomes an existential never ending struggle.
CAK 8-18-2013
Where forests stretched for miles, and Spirit Lake
lay at its foot, there stood a rebel peak.
One day the earth beneath began to quake.
What havoc Mother Nature was to wreak!
The tremors kept occurring till the day
two craters which had formed began to merge,
erupting ash. Wise folks left right away,
for that volcano soon would surely surge!
Some met their death that eerie Sunday morn
of May eighteenth. The deer began to flee.
Then from the mount, a burst of cloud was born -
a mushroom cloud which bellowed boisterously.
It grumbled and it rumbled, rocketing
for fourteen miles to sky its ice and ash.
Land slid. An avalanche was covering
all things within the path of its mad dash!
By 10:15, a wall of water rushed
down to the river, tearing up the trees
along with boulders as the ash still gushed.
Destruction had been wrought with greatest ease.
The news said Mount St. Helen’s lost her head,
and trees, like matchsticks, lay upon the ground.
Amazingly, despite such loss and dread,
there is new growth of beauty all around!
Written Aug. 13, 2014 for Wordscapes Contest of John Hamilton
Let me pass under the tunnel of trees
While shrouded in mist in tropical breeze.
Let island mysteries slowly unfold
As customs remain from centuries old.
Let me rise up to the Pali so rare
As I feel it's strong winds lash my long hair.
Honor ancestral spirits that surround
This beautiful 'aina and sacred ground.
A place where spirits of dead still abide,
Where a battle took place and suicide.
A warning to those who visit at night,
You'll meet with oddities causing great fright.
Viewing stunning Kaneohe below
Where with fierce tenacity trade winds blow,
My view from Pali I'll never forget...
That Time, too fleeting, I'll ever regret.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Nuuanu Pali:
“This is the last major battle that Kamehameha fought. This united all of the islands other than Kaua‘i, and, from this point on, for the next 20-some odd years, there was peace, other than the preparation for the battle of Kaua‘i.” Kaua‘i ceded its sovereignty peacefully to Kamehameha in 1806, without that battle ever occurring.
I find beauty in the unkempt places ~~
Sticky beehives with perfectly formed combs,
A child's playground sea of dirty faces,
An overgrown garden with ugly gnomes,
Sagging gables of long-deserted homes.
I look for more than people likely see ~~
Wondrous events occurring in past tense,
Places long untouched, lovely by degree,
Feelings of beauty lit from innocence,
Well-crafted stories hinging on suspense.
I long for beauty in the dour mundane ~~
Making the minus a clear positive,
Finding some loveliness in the profane,
To be learned in the raw provocative,
Turning low grades into superlative.
[LIFE]
SECOND PLACE WINNER
Written July 1, 2022
For "It's All About Three Q's" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
[15-10 syllable lines in 3 Stanzas checked by HMS
The ababb of the English Quintain with rhymes
checked with Rhyme Zone]
#16 on Poetry Soup's 100 Best New Poems List
August 24, 2022
#20 on Poetry Soup's 100 Best New Poems List
August 15, 2022
The air is still, you can hear
Buzzing of bees, feeding on nectar
And pollen of fruit trees; we
Slowly walk through with gentle ease
Grateful for a small measure of shade
That tease by uncomplaining trees,
We stop. Sit for a wee rest upon earth breast
Beneath the pavilion of overhanging limbs,
Dangling leaves and fragrant blooms
At that moment, time runs out as the clock
Keeps ticking. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock
Ceaseless beating of our longing hearts
Our future naturally occurring now,
Our lives are worth, but a second
We see the past, present, and future
The infinite and eternal nature of our soul's
Bathe in a warm trance that can only belong to us
7/6/2020
Time- 8 Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: A Dear Heart
1. time 2. moment 3. clock 4. ticking 5. past 6. present 7. eternal 8. infinite
STAND WITH A FACE OF HUMILITY
Thou curse a great angel to fall
from the heavens of glory and power,
though let man build towers for himself alone
letting him gaze on earth down.
Daggers are unknown but
they are directed to oneself
piercing six-inches deep in the heart
though made unreachacble stars of ruthless dreams,
there bete noire, implacable enemies abounds ,
occurring impossibilities cause bitter torments
art a fortress a defense for nothing, nothing?!
A sneering wall for a human being
the lowly thou had trodden down
callused feet has stepped upon.
The anon ignorant void of wisdom infuse a poison
drops dripping from temptuous cup
of sweet assurance, of self-ambition and arrogance.
A pedestal thou arts amidst life's superficial ways
a courage to lift up a haughty face
the narrow rocky roads thou dwell is full of blooms
but will the ends refrain from drowning doom?
Poor man thou hast enslaved
in thy ruthless breaking embrace
secured within thoughts of highness
knowing not where he will stay.
Above, may he think and look unto the ground,
a place of fifth to step upon
for alas he has partaken from thy cup,
so now he's done.
Thou made a distance so near
yet to very far, unreachable.
A human never a god
harsh and vicious
are the gigantic trials knocking him down
Imposing.Intimidating.Haunting. Freezing
but must they be?
Must they be or should he rather
open his eyes and flee
to the flying flicks of times?
Crepuscular are the cascading days
but always they pass epiphanies.
A heart of stone melts but
from it births the human heart
who is able to choose paths which lead them
to face the world not with pride
but with humility...
__________________________________________
Sponsor Name: Broken Wings
Contest Name: Any poem trashed in a recent contest
~~6th Place~~
Olive Eloisa Guillermo
12:38 pm. August 01, 2015
(to Mittens)
Schrödinger’s Cat is where it’s at,
nor live, nor dead, nor purring.
With half a chance she’ll live to prance
the worst may be occurring.
There must be something I can do
that Nature says is not taboo
to rescue this poor Russian Blue.
But if I’d look I’d lock her fate.
Dare I disturb her quantum state
when spooky action at-a-distance
could conclude poor cat’s existence?
Somehow unseen I need to see
behind that curious curtain,
where “God plays dice” with cats and mice,
where Heisenberg was uncertain.
Where large meets small, and cause effect,
where fact finds science fiction …
It boggles my small intellect,
each way I think of to protect
her has some contradiction.
Where simple seeming Maxwell’s Demon,
if programmed to assist …
To no avail, he’s doomed to fail,
he clearly can’t exist.
Where mighty minds have failed before,
what chance have I to best Niels Bohr?
Poor Einstein nearly fried his noggin
when he tried at Copenhagen.
Then, at the Solvay Congress, rambling,
suffered his cerebrum’s scrambling.
Each clever loophole that he “found”
failed, for Bohr shot each one down.
Where the world’s four known forces and all its best minds,
couldn’t save kitty lest they Unified.
So, he tried and he tried, and he tried and he tried,
still, we weren’t Unified on the day Einstein died.
Then followed footsteps, Steven Hawking.
Though he didn’t do much walking,
wowed us with his brilliant squawking:
“Black holes have “hair?!”
Could information
in pairs of virtual creation,
entangled but with separation
by a great wall of gravitation
as “hairs” of “Hawking Radiation,”
repair in Grand Unification
to spare this long-hair’s ruination?
Might yet unwritten cosmic laws
apply behind those blurry walls
to spare her furry feline paws?
I can’t remember if I cried
when I read that Steven Hawking died.
Such sadness touched me deep inside,
still, we were not Unified.
So, confidence I can’t exude.
The only thing I can conclude:
Alas, I lack ability
to tinker probability.
But I will give you even odds that all our odds are even.
This odd result results because we’ve mixed our rhymes with reason.
So be it odd to play at God … by God there’s a solution!
I have free will and will by God will out her execution.
So, by stroke of this pen I do decree:
This story ends here. Happily!
Thinking myself unborn
I can’t help
Wondering what the
State of non-being
Must be like
If opposites attract
And that’s a
Naturally occurring fact
Then perhaps it
Stands to reason
Darkness is out
Of season when
Light comes pouring
In like sweet
Summer shower rains
But not if
Existence doesn’t matter
And all is
Nothing more important
Than the unborn
Dreams of many
Not yet shattered
Such as the
Un-poetic poetry posing
Like masquerading mannequins
In storefront windows
And songs unsung
By the old
Masters who were
Never allowed to
Create something new
Because they too
Were left unborn
And every breath
They never breathed
Is still waiting
Patiently for them
In the airy
Skies where birds
Nest and fly
And the leaves
Bend and bow
Knowing strangely somehow
They’re not alone
And when fall
Comes calling them
Back once more
To the ground
Whence they came
They never complain
No need to
Explain to them
The reason for
Their own mortal
Worth which is
Nothing less than
Their miraculous living
Dying and gratifying
Moment of pure
Unimaginably timeless un-birth.
It is hard living with asperges
Everything is black and white
Nothing is illogical
Day is day and night is night
You can not read emotion
You don't want to cause commotion
All you want is love and understanding
Not grief and people just demanding
It's hard to show compassion
It's the mind too a fashion
It's not lack of empathy
It's just that you cannot see
It's not a tantrum that's occurring
It's the mind that is over tuning
No point in saying get over it
It won't help just make us want to fit
We know what is right from wrong
To a point of an OCD
It's pretty much autism in form
But not knowing what is the norm
As a carer of someone with this fate
Show understanding and not hate
It's hard to know what to say
It all depends on that day
No negative vibe or attitude
This will make them clam up
Plenty of love and gratitude
They be at the top of the cup
So stop and think and wonder why
What has made them start to cry
Thier is a reason in thier head
Try and resolve this before bed
Now this isn't in every case
Before you screw up your face
This is just sufferers that I do know
I just want to help and show
English oak tree, named Quercus robur; though known as Her Majesty now
Named Majesty of the Woods; etiquette requires in my presence one must bow
Growing my branches outwards, thus enhancing the width of my canopy
Lifespan extended as I nurtured my limbs, stretching them horizontally
Its 700 years since my acorn was sown, as I slowly became Her Majesty
Supporting more wildlife within me as no others have my capacity
Hosting hundreds of different species whilst aiding biodiversity
Olden and ancient aged 700 years, my limbs now gnarled and knotty
Acorns grow great oaks you see ~ 10 million acorns just from me
Kerfuffles no longer occurring, decomposition is now obligatory
Written 1st January 2020
Contest: I am a tree
Sponsor:Delilah Ventura
Contest Strand Choice 5
Sponsor Brian Strand
1st PLACE
(Elizabeth II 1926-2022)
Are we - crow, blackbird, sparrow -
aware of what's occurring?
We cannot tell, they assume,
but gape and gaze from up here.
This is a land with a departed monarch.
We - sparrow, blackbird, crow -
flit or sit above the richness
of that marching red regalia.
Thousands of arms stretch, sinews strain,
cameras are held aloft
to catch the start of this queen's obsequies,
such elegance, such grace.
We - blackbird, crow, sparrow -
observe orb and sceptre on the magnificent pall,
witness the splendour, the spectacle,
delight in the sound of vocal souls.
Millions have viewed that coffin.
We - crow, blackbird, sparrow - see them gaping, gazing,
with its eight pallbearers, in their blood-red flame,
as this Abbey welcomes what they carry.
(Sep 2022)
(You may wish to see also "Trooping the Colour" of June 2022 and "Coronation for a King" of May 2023)
Where are we heading
Human nature helplessly wondering
Mother Nature hopefully warning..
A submerged universe
By a torrent of floods curse
What is coming hope not worse..
A world of less and less meaning
For all those on the surface floating
Solid grounds nolonger touching..
To what is occurring inside unaware
Unable to see the gloom and void in the air
Drowning in a daylight nightmare..
Trapped in a web of wealth and profusion
Full to the brim the sight in confusion
Bathing in fathomless wells of delusion..
Where is your balance if I dare ask
Why in a fake glory you still bask
When will you wear off your dehumanised Mask ?
The Lighthouse for so long deserted
Its Light and compass inverted
The human mission there is simply averted..
A universe of less and less essence
Thrown into oblivion its inner balance
Wholes falling into holes of decadence..
Minds seized in captivity
Souls stained in their Beauty
Bodies withered in passivity..
Human bonds with iron fists ruled
With velvet gloves Man is fooled
In Humankind decay well schooled..
Detached I keep observing
Absorbed I am suffocating
Involved my voice spilling..
Would I to life flow surrender
Stop considering the offender
And being a determined defender..
I am but a word devotee
Addressing every bel esprit
In my heartfelt poetry..
Inspired by the latest masterpiece of my dearest friend and poetess Maria Williams.
You can pick and choose your friends,
who is true who is pretend
Who needs you then they leave you
If it suits them
then refuse them
Are they there
do they care
do they have nerve
do they dare
is it all one way and nothing back
Are they owed a favour broken track
Looping around and using you
never occurring they should too
It’s not time that makes them close
It’s what they do when you lose hope
Do they celebrate your victories
And sit with you through your miseries
When you use up your energy
If they don’t they’re an enemy
Are they quick to point out what they’re owed
they want it paid back what they’ve showed
Think they’re smarter than you are
Push their luck and go too far
Friends aren’t always what they seem
they’re not always what you need
Sometimes you should up and leave
Even if they feel aggrieved
Their probably a victim
If so they are restricting
Time on them but if removed
Time on you sees you improved
The centre of my universe
A place, together we laid
We’d talk, we’d share, just be
We cried, we hoped, we prayed
The world outside was turning
Yet I never really knew
Births and deaths occurring
My focus stayed on you
In that bed I dreamt
In that bed lay me
Vulnerable and insecure
Needing to feel free
Free to examine life
Free to feel alone
Free to make my own mistakes
Free to come and go
I let go of your guiding hand
Jumped into life’s deep sea
Never understanding why
I felt this need in me
I still don’t have the answers
And I still don’t understand
But I miss your love, your kindness
And how I miss that hand