Best Outset Poems
"Butterfly Lust"
Oh sweet and tender butterfly,
how colorful your dance
centered in Earth's naked sky.
Beneath daylights over-cast,
I'm your audience laying about
the green purified grass.
Come sweet and tender butterfly,
land low to the reach of thy lips
with your wings spread wide.
Three yards and a cloud of dust,
I dissect all your desires
borne from the outset of lust.
Oh sweet and tender butterfly,
how colorful our dance
now centered in Earth's naked sky.
Pace, G
INK-U-SCRIPT
11-1-19
Categories:
outset, desire, lust,
Form:
Free verse
The mighty 3rd to the north did steam,
Chasing a ghost not to be seen
Guard the landing your task assigned,
Quiet the day is to be benign
At dawn the Imperial fleet does appear,
Surprise complete, ranging fire splashes near
Outnumbered and out gunned, duty is clear,
Close the range you must in spite of your fear
Laying smoke, a jagged course you take,
An account of yourselves you will make
Steel your heart and make sure your eye,
For each salvo keeps you alive
Toe-to-toe the battle, you exchange mighty blows,
Triumph impossible, yet into the fray you all go
In perfect rhythm, the mad dance goes on,
As smoke filled gunhouse loads powder and shot
Decks strewn with the dead and dying,
Teams repair to keep the ensign flying
Struck and struck again, yet to point blank you steam,
Hard to port, you cross the “T”
“All guns to fire at the turn, torpedoes away!”
The enemy scatters in disarray
Too late, mortal blows you take
To the deep, no more your enemy to rake
One final salute their captain does render,
For you fought to the death and did not surrender
On this all men do still agree,
These were the finest two hours of Taffy 3
*****************************************
On October 25th, 1944, 3 destroyers and 4 destroyer escorts of Task Force
Taffy 3 engaged a combined force of Imperial Japanese Navy battleships and
cruisers in a 2 hour running gun battle to protect the escort carriers and troop
transports taking part in the Leyte Gulf landings in the Philippines. Two of the
three destroyers and one of the escorts were sunk while sinking three
Japanese heavy cruisers and damaged three more. Due to the fierceness of
the attack, the Japanese fleet retired from the area thinking they had been
attacked by a much larger force. At the outset of the battle, the commanding
officers of these 7 ships, without orders, individually decided to attack and
headed at flank speed to the fight all knowing they would most likely not
survive the day. Almost 1600 did not. In a final act of respect, the commander
of one Japanese cruiser saluted the crew of an American ship that had just
sunk as his ship passed them floating in the water.
Categories:
outset, courage, inspirational, remember, tribute,
Form:
Rhyme
Without a word - you speak to me through particles of pigmentation
For centuries held within the grip of linseed oil
Where now I gaze upon the many faces that you wore
And their beauty shakes me to the very core
For in each one I see and feel the life you lived
All the different stages - on which you played
Each faze of life - portrayed in raw emotion
So powerfully and brilliantly displayed:
Surprise, confusion, anger and mockery,
Humbleness, arrogance and gaiety
Contentment, resentment, agitation and condemnation
Impatience, sadness, bitterness, and sorrow
And finally resignation all conveyed -
In vibrant shades of autumn leaves
That without a word, so loudly and profoundly - speak to me.
~~~~
Written: July 8, 2011 - 0:03 a.m.
Inspired By Brian Strand’s contest:
POETA -ANY FORM/ THEME max 15 lines
Awarded: 1st Place
~~~~~~
Note from author as taken from Time Life Library of Art:
No artist has left a loftier of more penetrating persoanal testament
than Rembrant van Rijn. In more than 90 portraits of
himself that date from the outset of his career in the 1620's
to the year of his death in 1669, he created an
autobiography in art that is the equal of the finest ever produced
in literature---even of the intimately analytical Confessions of St. Augustine.
Categories:
outset, artlife, autumn, life, me,
Form:
Ekphrasis
True love for a nerd (specifically a logophile)
True love for a nerd, specifically a logophile... is him not interrupting you while you read, just watching your face, and you, who could read through 7th period in all its rowdy noisiness, who wouldn't look up from the page to see the world end... feel his gaze, and you look up. And smile. And then look down again because, come on, you have to make sure the main character lives.
It's being able to flirt in an extended metaphor in such a way that I'd like to think is at least as poetic as "Oh what light through yonder window breaks."
It's laughing at how disgustingly cliched it all is and not caring.
It's discussing grammar and definitions and both of you are interested in the conversation. Or he pretends, and that's just as good.
It's a bed full of scraps of poetry and suddenly sitting up at midnight because his smile is like daybreak, like summer, and lovely and oh my god someone needs to put it into a poem; sleep is a neccesary sacrifice!
It's letting the person you wrote a poem about actually read the poem you wrote about them.
It's being able to read poetry to someone that actually enjoys it for the beauty of words and not solely because it's horribly romantic... although it is.
It's playing word games, tossing rhymes back and forth until the volley is stopped short in the face of an argument over whether non-english words are permissible.
It's him suddenly saying... "We should read together."
It's him saying he wants me to correct his grammar. It's being accepted as a grammar nazi.
It's hearing intelligent thought come out of his mouth... I am an admitted sapiosexual, and damn, he makes intelligence sound hot.
It's like the unread book that you found on your shelf when you felt sure you'd read them all.
It's the story you'd thought you had predicted at the outset but that surprises you by being unconventional and utterly unexpected... it's almost frustrating... yet exciting.
It's the poem you didn't understand, and then you did.
Categories:
outset, boyfriend, cute love, funny
Form:
List
Down the dreamed aisle
comes the bliss of your sight
Cord of your life
sinew of your might.
Abaft the unending trek
comes the longed outset
A more colorful kismet
under the glorified sunset.
Wishful thinking
ceases the awakening
With thine caring
adoration is everlasting.
Categories:
outset, for her, for him,
Form:
Sehra
The human race speaks of a faraway place called heaven
no doubt there, they’ll breathe easy knowing some still care,
yet to flee from incarnation’s mask, anxious tears so many have to share,
for while we have but a limited time here,
hunger for and pay homage to that eminent gig in the sky,
if only to await one’s promise after a lifetime able to turn
to glance upon the earth, the colour clear, tainted with the blood
of those whom in his name die.
Is it written that evil would survive in many forms
power to wield when humanity spawned
to become a collection of wretched emotions here in the great “Bee Hive”
for eons of tears after creation dawned?
From the outset irrefutable impressionists hold the reigns
dwell in the surge of adrenalin’s rush,
an awareness to inflict one’s pain
with logic; simple minds cannot crush!
They called it religion in the name of;
coerced to sacrifice, manipulate,
a book of instructions a creed thereof
to enhance their powers, stipulate.
The human race, each an individual
yet herds of sheep reliant upon the Ram,
the weakest tossed aside, residual
till nurtured re-educated those the Lamb.
There are many in his name soil their reputation
unjustifiable actions condoned by a hierarchy of hidden agendas,
license to continue with savage mutation
to aid the evil despot, lord of the greatest of pretenders.
Soon this holy mess an ant’s nest deaden
although some the skill to explore the stars,
man will action his very own Armageddon
only to carry on with the emotional scars!
© Harry J Horsman 2016
Categories:
outset, angst,
Form:
Free verse
Fern and her twin sit beside the small creek
In quietness they wait under the shade trees
At the base of the woodsy, rocky, steep peaks
The wet bubbles tickle, Fern sways with the breeze
A cooler place even in the heat of summer
Where they flourish in stability
How Fern longs to be an uprooted number
No longer living in tranquility
They're rumors floating on the stream this day
Of life in the city after sunset
Heterogeneous living with play
A life so different from the outset
Fern is tied, rooted, and bound to the land
One hope is to release youth to life grand
Finis'
Categories:
outset, environment,
Form:
Sonnet
This manifestation of colour that springs from a genome , eternal, nourished, weathered and fashioned by a dyadic fornication cradled in time.
A pigment of hues in an utterance of undertoned, ubiquitous discourses, leaves an impression of stereotype and a plethora of lasting self fulfilling prophecies.
Eyes of blue, green, grey, brown and black see a world in chaos from within the dark, see a postcode lottery determine who lives in peace and who’s under attack.
Born from this colossal chaos are children of men, pure beating hearts that know no colour, that know no attack and are born of wonder. Little beating souls, Tabula rasa’s cleansed from the outset by a Nature's nurture and positioned by fate to their eternal mother. LOVE, love is the battle cry of the ages, But Race, creed and colour, somehow becomes loves significant other.
To breathe is to live and to live is to be, but how can one be if their colour determines, fashions and moulds their destiny
This heightened hierarchy, Noble, dynastic and imperial accost the paupers and protect the privileged. This blend of white creates a world of grey just another spectrum added to this Strata’d state of play.
For no colour will protrude into my life for they tried to make it black and white, yet may they see the four seasons come, may they take back and change what they have done in return, for a speedy recovery of an illness yet unknown, as its no longer children who are above their throne. Can they take on their challenges and reveal their day, can they take away their loneliness and their dismay, from this magnanimous world that is diluted with hate, where its profits before margins, it's no social state.
Categories:
outset, change, destiny, hope, life,
Form:
Requiescat in Pace
Written: by Tom Wright
February 2015
At the outset,
Tears start like dew from a tender leaf,
Then transcend into a torrent;
A mind is a library of thoughts,
Neatly categorized,
Until this contrary wind blew;
Rummaging through past thoughts,
Has left me feeling careworn,
Without experience or wisdom;
As I drift betwixt illusion and realism.
Confusion is cursing my mind,
Leaving pools of passion that sting.
My innermost thoughts are pillaged
As if dementedly abducted;
A short time of elation,
Fails to rid me of a lifetime of sorrow;
If something is truly irrecoverable did it ever exist?
While seeking transition to an amended life,
I realize, that pardon sits roadside,
Going nowhere,
As long as resentment drives the car;
Categories:
outset, death of a friend,
Form:
Free verse
Shall I relay a sidesplitting hoot from my “care-free” on campus fun phase?
It entails a laboratory session involving three mystic world colossal oafs.
One had an unerring penchant for Laurel and Hardy mishaps, the other this beautiful dreamer whose attention span rambled for miles.
a meandering focal point tourist with no yen for one spot or one task.
As for me the fault-prone narrator I had comic book deficits too.
Pulitzer Prize petty fog pinpoint, fastidious fat head by gum!
At the hearth of this tale is a chemistry prep that was doomed from an innocent outset.
It was aptly enough “Anodyne,” this soon to be splitting head bushfire.
From uproarious weighing scale howlers, to starter material gaffes, to say nothing of sequential missteps, Mount Everest blunders galore.
Our ill-fitting glassware threw tantrums, miscellaneous beaker’s burst dams, reactants rose up, a calamitous farce, they shed buckets of organic stuff down the sink.
For all my precision I seemed a right goof with this risible maximum brownie point fetish.
My beautiful dreamer close comrade who by turns Walter Mitty pale stand-in now immune to chaotic abandon at large.
That accident-prone other pal
would be every insurer’s worst nightmare.
Nearby class mates could barely restrain widespread glee at us laughing stock hapless quaint bunch.
The poor teacher in charge had a seizure, quite gormless, green faced and gobsmacked.
“I wonder what next can go wrong.”
“Quite frankly I shudder to think as you merry buffoons soldier on.”
This thunderstruck teacher was known as the “doyen of do it right down to the dottiest detail.”
After a humorous pause his eyeballs rotate in jocular mode then made a ginormous grand gesture.
“Put this jinx ridden self-destruct day in some tuck away memory file.”
“Write a one page report, say the gremlins prevailed and I’ll give you an average mark.”
“For goodness sakes don’t blow this offer like you’ve nearly blown
up my whole group.”
On an ironic note “doyen do it right” gave a brief safety course start of term.
It seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I’ll be blowed as my parents once said when life took a damned awful turn.
We three “Einsteins” in technical garb almost were, blowed that is!
Posted ; 11th January 2022
Categories:
outset, art, character, color, confusion,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Swamy consented to give interview to an Australian team of six men
None of them expected such a stunning miracle that awaited, then
Swamy outlined at the outset oscillating health of the mother of one of them
Who too nodded "Baba only yesterday I came to know this problem"
Mother of mothers mends saying "mother needs you now"
Also at him Swamy added "you have to reach her anyhow"
Simultaneously Swamy materialized and displayed a digital world map
Displayed it on the wall of same room and over Australia, He did tap
Now it become the map of only Australia, spread in full
With His another touch, New South Wales State did unfurl
With next touch, came was the apartment at Australia, where she did lay
With another touch, the wall of the interview room paved for the way
Baba being at Puttaparthi opened the doors of devotee’s Australian home
All six saw the ailing mother, as well Swamy led him into his home, awesome!
Instantly from India to Australia the son reached to care the ailing mother
Before the eyes of the five devotees, everything executed subtly smoother
Swamy closed the door and rubbed over it as the wall of the room got restored
When interview over, the other five devotees came out as amazed and assured
The Lord weaves together in His womb, every creations of this universe
Therefore, Hands of the Lord shall reach the deserved, anywhere to nurse
After an hour interval, when a student phoned to the sixth devotee
He confirmed the safe landing at his Australian home as the realty
Time or space is never a barrier to the Lord
If Sri Sathya Saibaba says or feels to utter a word!
This universe is small in size, in His holy Palm
As time and space falls within His realm
Swamy can do anything and everything, if He wills!
Anywhere and everywhere, genuine prayers He fulfills!!
Copyrights reserved
Categories:
outset, faith, mom, mother, mother
Form:
Couplet
Motherland!
I won't leave you again to ruin,
The pagearity of my soul shall grace you.
Once I left you moulded black,
Now I won't leave you again to rot.
Let my words germinate in your palms,
In vain vanities have I made you vain,
Graceful paths have I crafted for you.
I won't leave you again to rust in vain.
Motherland, I remember your greener pasture.
If there is a fooled love in abyss,
Mine is a divinelove packaged in purity.
I remembered you Good mama, decorated with love,
Cultured in a embeamed embryo of sweetness;
Mechanised pretty star of paradised earth.
If I get locked away in the past,
Your bosom shall I look unto.
Outset of the puzzle of life, you made me.
Motherland, mother hope, mother trust,
Fertiled and honeyed gracefully beyond others.
Motivated at the peak of the wind,
Trees waving in an inspirational move,
Clapping grasses worshipping and praising
A love sweetened flowing in one channel.
Motherland, of a truth you are great and pure.
Here I was born and groomed,
I grew around these tables of peace
Sorrounded by spirited brothers and sisters.
I grew around these watered hope,
I won't leave you again, motherland.
Categories:
outset, africa,
Form:
Hybronnet
From the outset, I felt love and bliss in you
But then, momentarily we slowed down of this feelings
As we tread of our faith, can they be considerate, understanding and caring?
The moon finally is at our side, brighter, guiding and consoling
Although our minds they have their own faults and reservations.
We’ll dance with the music naturally, willfully strong for our cause
We knew, our love is destined and wrapped up as one, we promised!
Both of us are survivors, battered in many ways
Threats along the way true and indiscernible
But we should hold on together, love each other the more
While it’s worth loving each other, we should be careful and vigilant
Our love is for eternity
Falling out of love we cannot dare sacrifice
For truly this love is great!
Entered in a contest sponsored by:
Russell Sivey
Contest Name: Tons of comma fun! |
Categories:
outset, love, love,
Form:
Free verse
Cold and icy passageway to trudge through.
Ships and warships sailed thru the Bering Strait.
In limbo 'tween two nations, iced, staid too.
When I first set out, for thrill I await.
Where ferocious beasts can hunt and roam thru.
Gray clouds with puffy tops hedge their offspring.
Calmly shifting layers, like a stack shades.
Wet and wild park made of stone tectonics.
Not to mention a beard made of green trees.
I saw two black wolves on Eagle Brook Road.
Mountain trails are plagued with random people.
At the outset, there were rocks and small stones.
There are blooms on the young pink rose jungle.
Here, among green discord of willow vines,
Aspen trees clump joined, stay comfortable
Alaska: home to the famed "midnight sun."
Where kids play and grownups lose track of time.
Reminds them that it is time to wind down.
When it gets quite dark they call it nighttime
Bright toughness is a trait with a tough tone.
The place where the Moon is second fiddle.
Matanuska vale's snooze-fest of a town
while moose and caribou withal trample
Move across the railroad ties one side down.
where the grass is green and soil is ample.
Alaska: home to the famed "midnight sun."
The place where the Moon is second fiddle.
Written: June 21, 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Checked by: HMC.COM/ 10 Syllables per line
Rhyme: Rhymezone.
Categories:
outset, analogy, appreciation, beauty, travel,
Form:
Quintain (Sicilian)
The times are fast changing
The certainty of season is
evading
The sure signs of weather has
for long disappeared
Along with our cultures and
moral values has smeared
Oh Arike! may my eyes not see
the evil the day brings
The scorching sun burns so
hot at day
The chilly cold oppresses no
less at night
The youths and young ones
has missed the way
Groping blindly around with
vain confidence in the light
Oh Arike! may you not be deaf
to the wise words of age
Life in the world now seem
strange
Young men move around
deranged
Treating our words with
hapless disdain.
Basking in their own fooly,
prolonging their pain
Arike my daugther! may you
never miss your way.
Day after day our wise words
are ignored
Seconds in minutes
out;pollution permeates our
atmosphere
Caution is thrown to the wind
And we fail to realise the fact
that the man who eats his cake
will never have it.
Arike!Arike!! Heed my words
Like our elders will say;
If the sun claims to be brighter
than the moon,tell me why
doesn't it shines at night?
If the youth claim to be wiser
Why dont they pull a strand of
grey from their hair
Arike! Its high time our words
are heeded.
No man heeds the wise words
of age and still misses the way.
Experience they say is the
better teacher
Lessons learnt from
experience are treasures to be
guarded jealously
The young man who glorious
foolishly in his strength
Is no sooner consumed by
pride than by an adversary.
Arike my daughter! Heed my
words
Follow the path of destiny and
see where it leads
Follow the creator who set out
your life from the outset we
earnestly plead
Heed our words,the wise
words of age
Even though we know it is not
the grey hairs that makes one
a sage.
Nevertheless,it does matter in
the end,b'cos we have been
there in your shoes.
Arike! Arike!! Arike!!! Let it be
known that we played our part
Before the time finally
changes,and the certainty of
season departs
Heed our words and desist
from your actions
He that has got ears,let him
hear...
Categories:
outset, youth
Form:
Rhyme Royal