Best Oldest Poems
Purring
contentedly
just being with my love
and basking in the afterglow
of our ascent to the peak of pleasure,
I now settle, spent and cozy,
in the crook of his arm
like a kitty -
purring.
The oldest profession, far from abating,
has lost it’s long time faux pas rating.
Now … it’s simply called dating.
(Triplet Inspired by Brian Strand's "Whatever" contest.) 5/12/11
Daggled and bloodied, the young man lay upon the ground where he’d been
left.. .left by vile men who, spurred by senseless hate and ravenous for a taste of
violence, had lured him with false fellowship and brought him to this secluded spot
by veil of darkened day. At first, they bound his arms, rendering him defenseless to
what was to ensue. After dragging him a small way from the back seat of their van,
they proceeded to pummel his stomach and his face, breaking his nose almost
instantly. When he stumbled to the ground, he received the heels of their boots as
they kicked at his extremities and then again, he received their cruel blows to his
stomach and face. When certain they had done enough damage so he would not
last a night in the cold, they spat on him and drove away.
As his attackers sat far away in a bar, drunk and boasting how they’d “done the
world a favor,” he’d already passed the stage of vomiting and gasping for his
breath. And though his brain was writhing with awful pain, with knowledge of his
sure obliteration, his chilled and broken body stayed inert. Reposed as if inside the
womb, he felt the ache receding, and before night’s shadows passed into the dawn,
his blood had stanched.
Now as flesh turns into carrion lying undiscovered in the dust, his spirit… never
quashed. . .cries out for justice.
I took root in a stand of golden aspen trees
My bark resembled dark eyes all over me.
I am the oldest of the ancients in my grove,
spared thus far from the fires of a stove.
Every fall I'm forced to forfeit my dense leaves.
They're taken by the wind, and my heart grieves
but nature has to obey and follow its course...
for there's no escaping its incredible force.
My Spring clothing turned into golden dresses
that appear to be sheered as if they were tresses
upon my branches and limbs, curved and bent,
Another season passes me by; another year spent.
I'll have to face another Winter, arms laid bare
for my leaves were taken, and none were spared
to keep me warm on those cold January nights
but I will dream of Spring instead of my plights.
My Oldest Brother
There is a story in the Bible about a young man name David who slew a giant name Goliath. My oldest brother was also name David, and he too slew several giants of a different kind. Please allow me to name just a few of the giants that my brother slew.
The name of the first giant was MR. POVERTY, and David slew that giant by being a hard worker. This David who was my oldest brother slew a lot of giants, and I think those who knew him would agree. David slew Mr. POVERTY by taking advantage of every good opportunity that came his way.
The name of the second giant was MR. MAKE US RICH, and he killed that giant by not spending his entire life making other people rich. In stead, he believed in himself and started his own business.
The name of the third giant was MR. RENT RECEIPTS, and he slew this giant by purchasing his own home and other properties. In so doing, he stopped receiving rental receipts and started giving them out to others.
The name of the fourth giant was MR. SELFISHNESS, and he destroyed this giant by helping other family members like myself to better themselves.
The name of the fifth giant was MR. I CAN'T, and he slew this giant by helping me and many others to realize our own success. The jump-start that he gave to others and me enabled us to go as far as our dreams would take us.
The sixth and last giant was name MR. BE LIKE US. My brother David killed this giant, and just like the David in the Bible, he cut his head completely off. This giant wanted everybody to be like him, and David did not try to be like everybody else. He just wanted to be himself and do things his way. I never knew if David had a favorite song, but if I had to guess, it would probably be Frank Sinatra’s song, "I DID IT MY WAY".
10/26/2013 (Contest, Older siblings)
Idols and Trinkets
Prayed to by women of night
Crave skin sacrifice.
He’s brazen,
But downright smart too
He’s the eldest of my kids
Blonde, blue eyed, smart and handsome, he is
He doesn’t know that at all
Honest and humble
That’s my boy!
Septet syllable count is 3,5,7,9,7,5,3, unrhymed
Sammie is a Tabby by design and recognition as far as a mental picture would be
He first came home to us from a shelter as a kitten and made us a family of three
That was about ten years ago, and Sammie has grown and is a pretty big cat
But he is still very playfull and energetic and loving and like our child is his hat
He also wears the hat of older brother to little Pepper who came about a year later
He came to us from being a feral kitten among the many we would cater
Recently Sammie developed a tumor on the lower part of his right hind leg
We took him to the doctor and got a diagnosis that took us all down a peg
For the real bummer was that there are more tumors inside
So instead of taking the one off, he said to just let it ride
Sammies life will likely end he said sometimes in the next one to three years
So the news is not very good and it brought us all to share some tears
In the mean while we rub his belly where the tumors are all at
And pray for some majestic energies to be unleashed on our little cat
So if you also are of a mind to share a prayer
Little Sammie loves you and is so happy that you care
As Yggdrasil stretches into heaven
Hyperion watches a new Armageddon
As General Sherman towers above
Methuselah cradles a mourning dove
Old Tjikko refuses to bend
The baobab thwarts the wind
The Tree That Owns Itself
Will never, ever be compelled
The Cedars of God remain
Despite any flood or hurricane
Oldest tree,
where Black River old-growth weathers
wetland over millennia.
Your ancient sinker roots
in dank swamp muck.
Primordial conifer,
Are you the sacred tree of Artemis,
or part of Aristotle’s potential actualizing?
What epic epoch do you realize?
What timeworn bones in your woodland knobby knees?
Your primeval bark peels the pages.
Your hoary trunk holds the saga in wooden tissues
of flood and drought, fire and freeze.
Patient and resolute, growing, undergoing,
unrelenting in the passage of episodes.
The endless patterns of wild came and died.
You watched liars lie and cheaters cheat.
You watched men in war and peace like brief mosquitoes.
What human acquaintance impressed you?
Was it Native Americans you first encountered?
Your bare boughs advance aloft in steady penetration,
a secret sapience silently submitted.
We, the fleeting fevered furious might grasp
your stable constant lessons of careful exhibition.
You reach ever and ever for larger continuance,
pending purpose for your conscientious growth.
Life’s intention is your sufficiency.
Flourishing in your adapting seasons.
Yes, we too can reach and rise in rapture.
:??
The oldest child.
Or the second parent.
The one that everyone relies on, the one who's need to be the model for the youngest siblings.
Who have dreams but soon turned into nightmares. Childhood? No, the oldest child doesn’t really have one, taking care or the youngest siblings were childhood for them.
Is the one who get blamed one for mistakes that youngest siblings have did, clean the mes from other, doesn't earn the respect they truly deserve.
Need to be successful to make their parents proud, carrying the weight of endless expectations on their shoulders, put on fake smiles too make everyone happy but who makes the oldest child happy?
They live were already written before they even existed and forced to grow with it.
Never heard the words" I am so proud of you" buts words that they were used to hear as"Why couldn't you be more like you cousin/friend)
They try their best, but somehow their best is never enough.
But you may ask" How do you know if all of that is true?"
..well I am an oldest child too, sad right..?
everything said the painter
is only creation
and then he died.
OLDEST AND BEST VALENTINE
oh dear, me-oh-my
valentine’s day, all the rage
the headlines – front page
two weeks away, but big news
and here i sit – lost my muse
oh what can i do?
i must invent clever words
sweetest ever heard
searching, everything to lose
and here i sit – lost my muse
this desperate thought
world’s biggest box of candy
a handy dandy
as last resort let’s try it
but no! she’s on a diet
i must give up
cannot even make a start
save her broken heart
just three words will have to do
i’ll kiss and whisper, i love you
Across the oceans crossing ferocious dark barriers of time
I've floated from Midway Atoll with fervent waves that chime,
humming melodies of my journeys to distant lands
making my own way through colorful windy strands.
I opened my eyes on a swaying grassland in recluse
azure horizon kissing shades of mauve golden hues,
sprinkled on sand long back as I took my first flight
I remember soaring with lamb white clouds so bright.
Flew across different continents in changing seasons
my little ones merge my legacy with joyous reasons,
I sing of raging storms and bravery on ancient beacons
on voyages I calm scared souls when their spirit weakens.
I find my way back home to meet my beloved every year
my memories of wetland behind fierceness I hold dear,
recognized as the oldest living wild bird I spread love
known as 'Wisdom' I still live to soar freely high above.
Poet's Note: The oldest living wild bird(banded) is a female Laysan albatross that nests within the world's largest albatross colony on Midway Atoll National Wildlife Refuge in the Hawaiian islands. She is at least 69 years old and is believed to have laid nearly 40 eggs over her life. She survived a tsunami and was first recognized in 1956 then again over a span of many years(through her band). In 2006, she was named 'Wisdom' as a symbol of hope for all species that depend upon the ocean to survive.
July 22, 2020
I am a Bird - Personification Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
~Winner: 2nd Place
I am the oldest daughter,
But that isn’t just privilege.
I am the oldest daughter,
And I have no more to salvage.
I am praised for my good behavior,
And it teaches me to be perfect.
Nothing less is acceptable,
No excuse can be my savior.
I make a single mistake,
And it’s the end of the world,
But really the bar is too high.
I’m sitting in the corner all curled.
Held in one spot,
But I’m told to get up and walk.
I am asked to speak,
But I open my mouth and am told not to talk.
I am the oldest daughter,
And I was born imperfect.
Why am I the oldest daughter,
When I can’t do what they expect?
I wasn’t made to be the best child,
I was made to bring out the best in others.
All that it seems to do,
Is bring more judgment from my mother.
I can choose to cry,
But they will only give me more reason to.
If I shouldn’t cry or hold it back,
What am I supposed to do?
After all,
I am the oldest daughter.