Best Original Poems
4.
Now things started to become clear,
Both Alahsar and Salahmar in the same space,
One would find Victory, the other, leave this place,
light and dark in the eternal battle.
Alahsar, of God's light,
Salahmar, of dark's evil joys,
which of them would wane away?
Devil's fear, or Heaven's glory.
For Alahsar, the city of light,
mortals, their lives laying down,
numbers falling as Algahrs push forward,
is this the end of light, hearts filled with hate.
From the golden gates a mighty moving,
women, they come forth with speed,
hate filled eyes and trembling cries,
yelling out their cry of war.
Still the foe were many more,
the Algahrs always to the front,
mightily they begin their push,
the might of dark within each beast.
Too hold the foe would take great strength,
strength was fading, ebbing away,
the Algahrs now did mighty push,
death and destruction on Badicha lay.
Still mortals stood, though blood did flow,
man and woman, power decreasing,
children watch from mighty walls,
as parents and friends meet their end.
Dark Man fighting, vengeance dear,
Warrior Queen spreading fear,
the bloodiest scene before the gates,
blood for blood,by sorrow's river.
Utamol, with almost life of own,
cutting, slicing, stabbing home,
Dark Man with his awesome grace,
Sends evil from this land of light.
Warrior Queen with power and speed,
destroying all this evil seed,
cries of pain are everywhere,
so many lost, their dead eyes stare.
On the plain great dust clouds rising,
screams of mortals and beasts fill the air,
lightning flashing, thunder crashing,
onward the struggle of life goes on.
Within the heart of living terror,
weapons crashing, teeth a-gnashing,
will miracle come to Badicha?
Shall mortals halt their slow retreat?
Alahsar's own are falling back,
dead and dying are underfoot,
now mortals they must hold the foe,
forward warriors, toe to toe.
No battle ranks or strategy to follow,
Hold position and strike down the foe,
Dark Man now in heat of battle,
Arlaghs feel the hate of Utamol.
In this time before time,
sorrow's song, the last song to be sung?
Strike with rage, power and might,
Become battle Gods, the power of light.
Cry goes up, "Walk in the light,"
the arms are weary, still fight for life,
still the battle crashes on,
what end shall be, before the dawn.
To Be Concluded..........
• Connecticut
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Famished and flagging footsoldiers;
formerly fitters and farmers.
Facing fatigue, fitful fever,
faeces and foul, foetid fungi.
Fostering feelings, frustrated,
for this faraway, foreign field.
Forsaking fissures and furrows,
forced forwards with fleetness of foot.
Firearms flash and fragments fly far,
feigning the firmament aflame.
Fighting so fierce and ferocious,
fratricide set free on this field.
Fuelled by freedom, nay, falsehood;
for their fellows and friends, foremost.
Forays so fraught with fine failure,
fatally fettered from the first.
Forged by such fatuous fawners,
focus firmly fixed on this field.
Forfeiting furtive and fiendish,
fulfilment was falsely forecast.
Fate flexes her fickle fingers,
future’s foretold and foreshadowed.
Faustian favours forthcoming,
for folly to feud for a field.
Families of fine forefathers,
fought fiercely, for fear we’d forget.
Forthright and filial feelings,
forgo fun and frivolity.
Familiar flora forms focus,
for the fallen in Flanders Field.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
8 syallables on every line (www.howmanysyllables.com)
November 2018
(This is my original / extended version)
I wanted to do something special - and a bit different - to mark the centenary of the end of The Great War (11 November 1918). This poem is dedicated to all the brave souls lost defending freedom during that terrible conflict (and all conflicts since).
the natural glow of unfeigned traits of the imperfect
outshines fake glittering pretence of the so-called perfect
Date: 09/27/2021
Your Best Rhyming Couplet Poetry Contest
Sponsor: L MILTON HANKINS
in the name of living art
pushing the limits risking it all
i put myself out teetering on every ledge
i stand where everyone can see
my nakedness flaunted as body art
i dare to expose my vulnerability
my passion lusts boldly for innovation
an unbridled vision steers my powerhouse
flashing artistic flair of feral imagination
hardcore inspiration with no map or guide
driven by the spontaneity of it all
never sure what outcome to expect
living on the edge of nonconformity
concepts blasting boredom out of existence
an animal survival instinct is what drives me
my art is a living organism
i’m radical no matter what the cost
i don’t care for labels but
at my core i have the heart
of a bona fide performance artist
AP: 2nd place 2020
the lifestyle
avant-garde
unconventional
in every way
artist at heart
eccentric
original
his look unique
unlike another
a trendsetter
with
swaggering
flair
AP: 3rd place 2020
When the news of a child is heard by the parents,
They buy a lot of presents.
For their cute & little child,
Who's skin will be so soft n mild.
And finally when the child is born as a girl or boy,
They buy n give them many a toy .
They take so much care of them,
& keep them happy upto the brim.
They fulfill all their wishes that are needed,
And buy all the necessary items for them to be feeded.
And as they start going to school,
They give them all the important instructions n tool.
They are given valuable lessons,
At starting and ending sessions.
But as they start to grow,
Their tolerance began to get low.
And this makes the parents feel sad and gloom,
And they start falling in their mental sickroom.
And with passage of time they becomes a woman or man,
And thinks that they could do whatever they can.
Thus , this thought comes to their mind,
That their parents would make their ways shrine.
So when all the properties come to their hand,
They made their their parents life fully banned.!
And they leave them in an old age home,
To make them sleep in a rubbish foam.
And then the parents realized ,
That their child was the biggest reason of their demise.
But now no option was left alone,
Rather to die together in an old age home!
..
By alfia ahfad
C olorful vibrant sparkling and joyful
A ccomplished artist and poet
R acy imagination to spare
E mbraces life with gusto
N aughty and nice a friend to all
K een advocate of the sisterhood
R aising the bar of exuberance
U topia the goal within reach
T enaciously bubbly every day
S tudio bursting with passion
I nstincts to assist the weak and lonely
N egative vibes abruptly challenged
G argantuan heart houses love for all
E pic is the legacy she leaves behind
R ows of children whose lives she touched
AP: 1st place 2020
My eyes' amnesia if you'd never be —
The crying like seagulls from throat unclenched,
And if those same waves go on without us
When washing away the glass from my seams,
My shaking water with us in between —
A heart moved through harpoon's death darkest drench,
Where needing viscerals bathed in light pant,
The ripping of eyes' sails beyond this sea
Love is original sight of all sight
Where lids opening shore open to hue,
Alone we were though with the going tide.
The sea melted for seagulls' holding to
As it caught contact our glistening eyes —
Long before unconscious heart ever knew.
Kids should be city architects.
What a lovely world it would be ~
Every street would be magical !
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION
As Adam and Eve walked through the garden
Their love grew and grew
They gathered berries for their supper
And leaves for a brew.
Later as they lay naked under the stars
Adam kissed Eve and gently stroked her thighs
They heard a sound, turned in fright
And saw a vision before their eyes.
'Stop, sin no more or go to Hell'
Spake the fanged head
But then it spoke no more
As with a stone Adam hit it till dead.
Adam turned to Eve with a smile
'We still have much to learn and see
But what I'd really like to know
Is what was in that tea?
(in John Deere green)
The décor paid tribute to an American icon,
a way of life that built this land.
Did the owner's ancestors farm nearby,
his memories the reason for the John Deere green?
Green everywhere: tablecloths, wooden posts
trim strips on walls, wind-chimes and hanging plants;
not garish or overpowering, but subtle, and pleasing to the eye.
Ceiling beams were lined with strings of Christmas lights,
every bulb in John Deere green.
One old children's hand-tooled saddle—with sheepskin lining
and a cinch made from woven rope—sat astride a dividing rail.
A small shaped mirror near the door, wore a horse-collar frame.
John Deere tractors adorned an entire wall,
displayed on shelves, in framed photos and metal ads,
reflected in large mirrors—evenly
spaced— on the opposite wall.
Locals ate, took no notice. I was enthralled, and ordered
biscuits and gravy, my mind full of memories
of life on the farm, in John Deere green.
Born without spot, all equal in God’s eye
Yet, on winds aloft, Envy’s cursed seed.
Hatred warms the bed where Evil will lie.
The fertile soil beguiles, rooting on the sly.
Black veils of mistrust tinting each good deed!
Born without spot, all equal in God’s eye.
Despair rides the rails without alibi
Gaining companions, divided by greed.
Hatred warms the bed where Evil will lie.
Privilege and fame, an Icarus sky
Blinds my soul, I turn from truth before me;
Born without spot, all equal in God’s eye.
Honor’s reward illusive, cry or try.
Bind me to my conscience, with chains I plead.
Hatred warms the bed where Evil will lie.
If submit we will, our death awaits neigh.
We will to Envy’s sour fruit concede.
Born without spot, all equal in God’s eye.
Hatred warms the bed where Evil will lie.
Contest Entry: A MAJOR WORLD PROBLEM
Sponsor: L. Milton Hankins
Submitted: 4/29/21
Placing: 8th
Two rose petals fall
one on top of the other
fragrant delicto