Best Ovation Poems
In one of her melodies of sundresses,
Heavenly Light erupts in full blaze,
well dressed in yellow, orange, and caramel.
The audience is passionately waiting
to bathe in her extraordinary performance,
of her golden rays.
With the evening coming to an end
creation cannot hold back with a standing ovation.
6/21/2017
Conductor’s wand in final phrase
Forestalled the anticipated roar,
Cast deafening hush of silent awe,
Leaving the audience ablaze…
May 10, 2021
raindrops fill petals
summer lily bows her head
takes gentle applause
(For contest 'Traditional Haiku #2', sponsored by Shadow Hamilton)
July 2nd 2015
no designed gem creation
gathers my stunned elation like earth's jangling flirtation
of dazzling rain drops forming on a green leaf foundation -
a pertly dancing sensation
garners my soul's ovation
Bright sun and cool breeze
Through green branches of tall trees
Along the park's trail
Reveal whitest clouds
And birds in flight and song as
We walked hand in hand
Guitar;
black slick
acoustic difficulty
for minds that show teeth
grit
defiant stand
serve as road block
in the way of raw expression
ART
bullheaded you
self made doubter
lover of fail at yir' right hand
tripping over what's left
notes chords
waiting on deck for launch
beside yir'self with holding back
somewhere
beneath hard crust
molten lava pops
pours
and subsequently maneuvers
right through the ********
to seep through
porous walls you've built
so get busy playing that Ovation
and channel some of that pent-up guilt
Heard upon the heavy, humid air,
now unpleasantly warm,
came further reverberating rumbles,
that proclaimed an approaching storm,
and we were made very much aware
Nature’s ire was evident,
as with bolts of forked lightning,
towering clouds were rent.
Seen in angriest dungeon,
as befits a brooding sky;
and mesmerised by her fury,
we watched, as it drew ever nigh.
But once her awesome power,
was unleashed upon the land,
our hypnotic trance was broken,
and we saw danger lurked to hand.
It was now the time to scatter;
to seek shelter where we could,
for thunderstorms can oft prove fatal,
if caught in open field or wood.
As we ran to seek our refuge:
we’d little time to spare,
we hoped her fury was short lived,
as lightning filled the air.
We knew we’d be acting foolish,
if the storm we’d think to brave,
so with safety our first concern,
twas our skin we sought to save.
Next calm air was pushed aside,
cyclonic down bursts seen:
whilst trees bowed their obeisance,
in the nearby wooded dene.
When overladen clouds then burst,
in sheets of solid rain,
so the humid air dispersed,
and the world was fresh again.
Next, when thunder clouds split asunder,
to leave the world clean and bright,
we saw skies in all their grandeur,
as shafts of golden light,
broke through the storm tossed clouds,
now fragmented and torn,
and as the sun emerged again,
we saw a world reborn.
Though thunderstorms intimidate,
such times we do adore,
for it is a time to savour:
despite our fear and awe.
Rhymer 10th August, 2016
Time's gears move trickling
At the speed of sound,
Jotting verbs and urges
To make it sexy selling
Souls for fat drunken minutes
Draping rustic yeas and nays
To the critic, it's his job, you know.
Guys waiting, in line with their own,
To catch a glimpse and rote autograph
Signed 231 times today,
Stand and be worshipped,
Exiled author,
Tear down that wall,
Sweat the sweat of the sweet
Sweet sinner.
Crowned immaculate, and hung out to dry,
Beloved, curtsy god-given, and
Pull tight a freedom flag.
to face that winter night
to watch the heap below
the sweep, the belching chimney pipe
and lights, dulled by fog and snow
the wind, as well, it swallowed whole
became that final movement - the last ovation
and winter took its hold.
and, in watching this unfold
I saw the soul of man, who was alone
that is to say, he waits for spring
until, at once, she took his hand
and losing sight of all that cold
the wind, the snow, the buried heap,
that tired soul of man, asleep
with frost upon his weathered brow
and leather on his feet
You ever live a life full of mysteries and
Just wonder.....
Who are you destined to be and what kind
Of things you were destined to do....
Coming across with people who open the doors
To success... so every new accomplishment
I hold up a fist symbolizing my individuality as a human
Person but think about it harrd it really means
The success of a young blacc youth....
Who is Mel some may ask......I who you call the most efficient with words with
sympathy converting into harmony and as my words of metaphors enlightens
thoughts in ya heads....the progress to my Panamanian dream becomes reality.....
Ladies and gentlemen I present to you what is called
Reality in the making.
Walking in the light in which I can say if I aint getting noticed let myself be
Burring my past and creating a new beginning
Remember No sacrifice equals no victory
And as my epitome of taking my poetry
reflects a hidden talent within me I hold up my fist once
More and say I don't hold up not only for the skin color
Of for the broths and sistah that made history
I hold it up because of my individuality and
Stand as a successful brotha to become history in the making
And as I live under one nation and its under god
As the blood rushing my vein burst out the color red white and blue
I repeat myself again....I hold up my fist not because of my broths and sistah who
made history
I want to make history
And when making it to the top I look down on my haters as they struggle to make
their way to the top
Im over the edge so I say.......Who ARE YOU?
And the Oscar goes to………..
your performance was brilliant.
But don't think for a second that
I will give you a standing ovation.
Alexis Y.
12/23/19
Sense altering fertility:
a stoic female falters
Seven consecutive avid hours in each four weeks
I mull over mitigating my chosen ongoing celibacy
Primitive drive permeates realms where pleasure peaks
Stomach burgeoning coersion detects digital delicacy
Needy as a newborn, abdomen aches, resonates reason
Discarded inhibition of prudence pursues resolution, swollen
Tulip bulb split, affliction's blister is conceived procreation
Stupendous scenarios sordid, fluent imagination draws on
Widened with aspiration, desire requires instant unbridling
Materialising gluttony beckons with incandescent distress
Moans cryptic as ocean speak, freed from concious conspiring
Unboxed frolicked fathomings become loitering brain's duress
Don’t provide a culinary delight
On a gourmet’s table like a goose
Instead, stand up for just causes and alight
Your upward mobility flight of stairs like the Indian grey mongoose
To strut your agility to take on and slay cobras
Which in one form or another your tranquil life attempt to plague
As verbal problems in Algebra
You crack with ease in the league
Where mathematical equations you munch
By the dozen to feed the appetite
That taps and harnesses the curiosity branch
In your bid to develop the tripartite
Arrangement in which your soul flourishes and nourishes to while away time
Productively when from mundane platitudes
You take leave, preferring instead to climb
The ladder of conciliation and reconciliation on platforms where positive attitudes
Couched in genuine concern you reinvent
Curiosity in techniques that slay animosity
Embedded in foibles that vent
Frustrations in ways that conflate religiosity
With mumbling and mouthing nonsense
That the less pious you treat
Like lesser Christians whose sense
Of spiritual uplift you greet
With disdain and reluctance
Although Jesus preaches accommodation
Of sinners and backsliders without grandstanding askance
That salvation mission meets without any standing ovation.
Pain sometimes rains strain
That catapults us either to seek to inflict punishment
On others as churlish challenges drain
Our stamina until if misused pain robs from our judgment
Powers of discernment essential
To separate fiction from fact
Trash from quintessential
Enabling us to care and to detract
From misdirecting our energy
In spreading pain
Slaying synergy
If we deign to enable the reign
Invaded by misconception
To twist our perception
Surrender to the mirage of deception
To betray the correct conception
Of the role pain in our lives plays
In God’s grand scheme
Where pain slays delays
In reaping opportunities to reap cream
From shafts of pain meant
To elicit the best
From pages sent
To prevent the pain test
From degenerating into a curse
That worsens our fortune
If from our belief purse
We stress the tune
That strays from the narrow path
That leads to our salvation
Promised to Sylvia Plath
If we are to earn from God a standing ovation.
It is no secret that some people crave affirmation
Seeking anyone who will give them confirmation,
Apparently not grounded in their own foundation
Wanting anyone to tell them they are a sensation.
What a pity! For every person is awarded citation
Here, in life, for having their own unique duration
Keep in mind, not many will get a royal coronation
But be happy, for you deserve a rousing ovation!
Written March 21, 2022