Best Opposing Poems
So many words
lost in my soul.
Yearning to bleed,
but the ink is shy.
It does not want
to make you cry.
No more words,
as soul is found.
No temptations
when ink is brave.
All it wants is
to make you smile.
If I last another day longer than you, you WILL be in my memories. If not, perhaps I'll be in yours. Blessings all.
As the mornings sun - begins to shine
And memories of yesterday - I leave behind
I get to see - another rising sun
And store more memories - when the day is done
Thoughts in my mind- Which I hold true
My life - what I've been through
All those nights - when I dreamed deep
My all-nighter's - I couldn't sleep
Remembering thoughts - from new, from old
Good times, bad times - I still hold
But tomorrow's sun - again will rise
I may not see it - with my own eyes
For if I don't - and I... not awake
I hope the sun - is yours to take
To let you dream - into the night
Save your memories - see the light
That will rise again - with tomorrow's sun
And leave you memories - when the day is done
Your thoughts in mind - that you hold true
Your life - what you've been through
But if you don't - your eyes...not awake
I hope the sun - is mine to take
So that I can remember you - memories I'll keep
All those nights - when I dream deep
GOOD TIMES, BAD TIMES- YOU STILL HOLD
REMEMBERING THOUGHTS- FROM NEW, FROM OLD
YOUR ALL-NIGHTER'S- YOU COULDN'T SLEEP
ALL THOSE NIGHTS- WHEN YOU DREAMED DEEP
YOU'RE LIFE, WHAT YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH
THOUGHTS IN YOUR MIND- WHICH YOU HOLD TRUE
First six lines of my triolet entitled “Wrapped in White” followed by my contrasting six lines which I’ll entitle “Crestfallen in Snow”
I long to tread upon the snow
in hush of winter, wrapped in white;
in feathered mounds serenely go.
I long to tread upon the snow.
The boughs hang low; no wind doth blow.
My love, come see the wondrous sight!
Who wants to trudge in knee-high snow
especially in cold of night
when wind chill factor’s ten below?
Cars slide off roads and fierce winds blow.
Boughs break and icicles hang low.
Stay, Dear, instead, by our firelight!
The first stanza is from my poem- Almost Xanadu
I see everything clothed in glistening sheen.
Around me, all I see is beauty and grandeur.
Heaven seems to have come down to earth.
The sky and the Earth, draped in great splendor.
Anyone who lands in this ‘Elysian Field' will loudly exclaim,
‘If there is a Paradise on Earth. it’s here, it’s here’!
I hear the howl of death and the smell of blood in the air
Monstrous shadows lurk and it's too dark to see.
No beam of light falls, this land is parched and arid.
The only sound is the cry of men who from the face of death flee.
Anyone who steps into this war-torn site will loudly declare
“If there is a hell on Earth, it is here, it is here”
POETRY DOESN'T ALWAYS COME TO ME TIPTOEING IN A VEIL OF IMAGINATION OR RAGING LIKE A TURBULENT STORM
IT DOES EMERGE WHEN WAKING UP, I GAZE AT THE ENCHANTING VERMILLION SKY AT DAWN, MAJESTIC SUN RISING IN THE HORIZON.
IT DOES WHEN GORGEOUS SUNFLOWERS IN MY GARDEN BLOOM, FLAUNTING THEIR MESMERIZING GOLDEN PETALS!
MY HEART LEAPS AND FLUTTERS LIKE A BUTTERFLY ENRAPTURED WITH COLOURS
IT DOES WHEN A MURMURING RIVER CROONS A TALE OF PASSIONATE LOVE
SPLASHING THE PEBBLES WITH TENDER KISSES!
Poetry comes to me rushing in a chariot of imagination, not tiptoeing like a bride!
Doesn't emerge, unless I gaze at vermillion sky, majestic sun setting at ocean,
It doesn't, unless glorious sunflowers bloom in my garden, petite and shy, until
My heart quivers and shivers like dewdrops, in euphoria,
Poetry disappears unless I listen to a brook humming a tale of romantic love...
When the rocks are caressed by the rivulet with wild emotions!
Brilliant and dull,
Losing and winning,
Seeking and finding –
Among the dreams, a feeling…
She risks her heart,
And, finds her hope.
She rises in the morning,
To erase the darkest fears.
She wonders through shadows,
To abide beneath the light of love.
She kisses away the past,
With laughter because she’s gone.
Beautiful and hideous,
Winter and summer,
Chaotic and peaceful –
Despite her faith, she blunders…
She lingers in her self-pity,
Still facing the battle with vigor.
She wrecks the music,
Playing notes of pale and weak.
She invites the prayers,
Then silences her screams.
She is an echo of yesterday,
While still awaiting tomorrow’s lease.
She is wild and willing,
Welcoming the moments, while…
She decides who she will be,
Her heart and soul grow wings,
And she is awkward in her melancholy.
But, she still grieves…
Pieces of her destiny, pieces never settled.
Black and white,
A frown and a smile,
Right and wrong,
Even what she knows grows thorns,
She reaches for the stars,
While playing in the dark.
She embraces the gentle ones,
Never sure of their calm.
She dreads Autumn’s close,
While the snow accumulates in her soul.
She is the end and the start,
Where she goes, hope follows her home.
She regrets those barren years,
But her heart remembers and fears.
She is good. She is bad –
Yet, her faith is like her breathe,
Always there, always exhaling…
Moments in prayers, prayers who know,
Beyond this world, there is life –
Love so amazing - it is her reason for praising
Humble and prideful,
Abundant and wanting,
More or less..
She is everything and nothing,
And, always… she knows she’s been chosen…
For this very moment, for this very life,
For this very joy and peace – love that never leaves,
Because, forever and always – Oh, yes…
She believes!
Written: December 22, 2023, For Di11y Da11y Poetry Contest
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Awful rumors arose on a rainy day at twilight.
Dwelling in darkness, guilty of stealing light.
Drops in rhyme, color-and-time lyrics draw me.
Through vibrant strokes, a love riot sings poetry
Wonderful truths spread on a sunny day at dawn.
Embracing brightness, innocent of sharing sundown.
Rises out of rhythm, monochrome-and-space verses repel me.
Through dull strokes, a hate calm whispers poetry.
I strongly believe that the wheels of fate
Are not controlled by some empty chance,
For if they were, I would not have found
Your life-turning love and gripping romance.
I believe there’s some unseen benign hand
That spins the direction and the strides of men
Toward the compass of their ultimate joy;
And that arm led me to your sweet poetic pen.
Your syrupy kiss is not the work of mere luck,
It is the considerate ordination of the divine arm
That comforts lonely hearts and sullen spirits
And waters the arid hearts with caring calm.
But then there is another opposing hand
That tosses whatever Providence has wrought;
The evil hand of hate and greed and parsimony,
One that smothers love in the face of drought.
The power of truth be
With he who insists
That God, unlike man
Has omnipotent hands
And persists
And persists
And persists
The burden of lies be
WIth he who insists
The product of man
Has a divine plan
And exists
And exists
And exists
** Thanks for reading... Anton - www.foesofprose.com **
Right now if I am to be truly single, then I want to unwind and remove all I have
believed and subscribed to.
If I am to muddle through life alone, then I want to relieve myself of the dreams held
dear in the depths of my human experience.
What is the bare reality for my life that I can know the way to traverse?
Which is wholly true and sure for me to brave and navigate?
Which way am I to turn to fully and so abandon one thing or another in its comprised
settings?
What IS the cold truth... or resolute hope?
Which am I to resign and resolve to and face squarely?
Both are shrouded in fog and obscurity to clearly discern, so I know not what to do
or say.
No beacon shines casting light to reveal my next step, and no crisp sound is
emitted to point direction.
I wrestle with these opposing realities and I am weary!
No glorious epiphanies or visions pristine banish my oscillating struggle... and no one
casts a rope of hope to cull me out gingerly to one... or another!
The heated glory of my chief dream deeply entwined with my heart remains engaged in
this troubling tug of war!
Whilst I wait on this solitary road at this very intersection, I wish for resolve and
direction with the oil of truth to become a comforting salve... at last!
Elements of light
elements of dark
walking magnets
attracting like sparks
Your true nature
your true fire
what do you attract
what do you inspire.....
I’ll meet you halfway
set fire to both ends
Kiss you in stasis
as our world upends
God it feels so good
when balance transcends
Separated yes
the crossing’s now ash
Lost due to movement
and one lonely splash
Our love abridged? No
devilishly rash
I May or May Not Be Opposed 1-3-24 Original Poem Tremolo Torrents
I could not get the bold function to work so I put the original lines in parenthesis.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Opposing Tremolo Torrents
“Thundering fat raindrops fall
Driven deluge in wild squalls
As torrents pelt the thirsty ground
Sheer rain staccatos resound
Tempests fury rides the storm
Wind-swept raindrops leap free form.”
Whispering mists kiss the air
Float on sheer quiet prayers
Murmurs of a zephyr’s sigh
Tiptoe through a misty sky
In rhythms of hazy veils
Gentle brumes rest on cattails.
I can’t stand to sit…
Waiting to be included
In your anecdotes,
The missing piece,
Yet, I love to hate…
My absent reverie,
Lost somewhere
Between oceans and mountains.
Feeling like I’m right of left…
A discombobulated mess,
Issuing faint poetry
For the sake of communion.
My heart is back to front…
Of the distance,
Smashing head-long
Into being there.
I try to forget remembering…
What it’s like
Being among you,
And want to cry.
This wet thirstiness…
Is drowning me,
Aching for the creativity,
Waiting, sitting, standing,
While I become a squared circle.
An ultimate showdown of courage
When opposing forces have to meet
Unlike gunfights in an old western town
There's no standing in a hot dusty street
Not wanted but desperately needed
Closed doors keep this challenge discreet
Bravery is buried beneath a frown
as I sit down on this cold toilet seat!