Best Oversee Poems
The Haunted House
Driving with my date at midnight, looking at the August moonlight,
lonely road, no one in eyesight, searching for a place to park.
Off the road a mansion ‘pearing, in the woods, back in a clearing,
all alone this mansion fearing, stands deserted in the dark…
the mansion stands there in the dark.
Vacant now for many ages, rotting as her time turns pages,
legend of her haunting rages, haunting ghosts that oversee.
Eerie winds around are blowing, in the window soft light glowing,
curiosity is growing, soft light beckons us to see…
the soft light calls for us to see.
Feel like we are strangers poaching, on this haunted house encroaching,
front porch creaks as we’re approaching, and the front door open wide.
Through the door now we are heading, on the inside odor shedding,
musty air with dust is spreading, leaving us red blurry eyed…
the dust makes us red blurry eyed.
In our ears there is a droning, down the hall we hear a moaning,
sounding like an old man groaning, leaving us to wonder why.
Down the hallway we go searching, knowing not what evil lurching,
through the door we see there perching, skeleton from days gone by…
bones sitting there from days gone by.
On the floor there is blood pooling, ‘neath the ashen bones so grueling,
such an eerie sight befooling, tell my date to turn and run.
Chasing close behind I follow, for this fear I cannot swallow,
felling like my life is hollow, thinking that my time is done…
I’m feeling like my days are done.
Wake up in a forest clearing, in the sky, sunlight appearing,
from the night my mind is veering, how I got here I don’t know.
Leaving now my gut is churning, don’t think I will be returning,
evil place my mind discerning, wrought with spirits from below…
the evil spirits from below…..
this haunted house has got to go.
August 18, 2018
The seashore is a wondrous stage, for in the sun's delight,
I sit and watch a play unfold- it's there within my sight!
Those beauties, young with golden tans, demurely sashay by
In search of those admiring eyes that peep so deft and sly.
While young dudes with their virile forms and sun-bleached wavy hair,
Strut back and forth so confident with sort of haughty air.
Small children, filling up their pails, build castles made of sand,
While fathers take a break from rest to lend a helping hand.
And mothers being what they are- in their protective lots,
Are ever rubbing suntan cream on freckled, sunburned tots.
Those chunky mid-life guys and gals packed tight in swim attire
Add so much fullness to the scene, for those to see, admire!
And oldsters wrapped up tight and snug to shield from wind and sun,
With eyes shut under hats of straw, in dreamland have their fun!
At water's edge, the tame are found, waves rolling at their feet;
While further out, some brave the swells to make their fun complete.
And there, up high on pedestals, bronzed lifeguards oversee
With ever watchful, cautious eyes, the shore's activity.
And here I sit, a spectator, relaxed this summer day-
But, am I too a character to those who look my way?
April 20, 2015
Premiere Contest: My Favorite Vacation In Rhyme
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
Diana, Nature’s Guardian
Defending purity, virtues, by preordained, destine.
With faithful diligence I oversee all life that’s birthed.
Celebrating nature as its radiant guardian
Fulfilling life’s desire with independent strength girthed.
I am Diana, Goddess of hunting wild animals.
Protector of the natural world both domestic and wild,
Camels, beetles, jackals, deer, hogs, flowers, myrtles, squirrels -
All in my magical care live wonderful lives beguiled.
Fertility and childbirth, my responsibility,
Accomplished spontaneity living, functioning well.
Reflecting light among the beasts with great nobility.
An accomplished war-like goddess guarding while lives impel.
Hunting dogs track down their prey; fearful deer run. I am there.
Staying in the midst of them observing, balancing, and keeping.
Preying is part of life’s design sustained with greatest care.
Plants and animals live mortal lives wisdom possessing.
Plundering men cause great concerns that must be soon resolved.
Wreaking havoc here on earth, plowing jasmine, balm, mugwort,
Destroying creatures, felling trees, habitats requiem.
Man must change his wasteful ways to prevent my last resort.
Mother to the animals I recycle elements.
Wildlife conservation thrives, careful awareness acting.
Take heed ravenous plundering men, lest my anger vents
And another species takes your place, last choice exacting.
You can find me in my sacred place among quiet oaks.
Cherishing my own chastity, purity makes me swoon.
Walking in my natural world hearing each frog that croaks.
Living flawless beneath God’s sun, reflections from the moon.
© August 1, 2010
They've tuned into your frequency
And watch you from your TV
Invading your privacy
As your thoughts they oversee
They hack into our cell phones
Stealing all our pics
Everything we own
They find by just a click
Big Brother's always watching you
Through a secret door
They have us under full review
It's nineteen eighty four!
.-.
3/8/17
Will the human race actually feel triumphant
with the extinction of our African elephant,
why don’t humans believe it’s preposterous
that Earth only homes two hundred Rhinoceros,
I being a human feel that I’m a total rotter
contributing to the demise of our giant otter,
do humans think land only belongs to man
creating inevitable extinction of Bornean orangutan,
shouldn’t wildlife be like sheep is to a shepherd
not to oversee the inevitable loss of Amur Leopard,
why do we rejoice, eager to explain our merits
hurrah saved from extinction the black footed ferrets,
we can always tell our children a fascinating tale
about the time we saw on Earth an amazing Whale,
explain what’s that human like creature when they see
a film or video of what was once a chimpanzee,
perhaps if we could stop killing ourselves and animals
then our planet will not seem such a desperate shambles.
Conception
There
In seconds words birth
A phrase laboring me to pen
Anticipation of a perfect offspring
Contraction squint the mind for me
That shudders a intent, until
It flops on the page, kicking
Father critic oversee sternly
At times pushing me to the side
I separate from a creator
A witness as it breathes
The air is a touch of Intellect, soft
It’s a raindrop in my lover eye
Or sharp carom in the back
Pain echoes for immortality
Joy wanting the freedoms lounge
Clarity in the pitch black
Or the divine shine,
Like the lamp beside me.
Not only is he my friend;
He’s the Mayor of my hometown.
His eyes oversee the place,
That I so love to be around.
Whether it’s canvas or a page,
He graces it with artistic hands.
Bringing out his desired emotions,
That his patient heart commands.
With a love for teaching art,
His creative mind explores.
And amps up all who know him,
To want to accomplish more.
We have the same passion,
In the landscapes that we shoot.
And have our haiku sessions,
And post them on Poetry Soup.
He has a vast love for helping,
And dabs carpentry.
He gives his best to the canvas,
And to the stanzas of his poetry.
His giving heart keeps giving,
And he loves it, is what he says.
He’s a master of the short form,
And his name is Abe Lopez.
________________________
For Abe Lopez, a fellow souper
and friend for his support on and off
Poetry Soup, God bless you.
I have no wings only cold feet of clay
And I'll never touch the farthest round sky
Days come quickly and pass along the way
Forgotten and silent, no one asks why
My dreams will never be rendered again
They all died in the hollow of my mind
As fragments dispersing from my dried skin
Tattered reminders that were left behind
I lay in blackest earth that I defend
Where darkness rules and only bones survive
While soil covering grows thick, I pretend
My bones are found, to show I was alive
I'll dissolve, only time will oversee
And lay silent still, remembering me
contest.. make their jaws drop
I walk down a road
on my way home
it gets dirty at times
many bumps to oversee
with pebbles in the way
I have to watch
out for the holes
not to fall upon
to be stumbled and weak
Look now there is the creek
Providing all around with water
and transporting nutrients
I come upon the bridge
That continues to show me
across the road I am walking
Giving a way to overpass
My feet once would hurt
on this road home
But now I have the best shoes
as if I am gliding
I come across many signs
some say turn left
some say turn right
some forsee a dead end
But I will continue to go straight
to follow the one way in route
avoiding all uturns
For I am being guided
and pulled toward my home
The estate of my spreading life
has been plowed over many times.
Plantations have withered and been replanted,
grain fields have turned to dust,
have laid fallow for years
yet now the corn is high and golden again,
trees felled and burnt now grow tall.
Mind body and spirit maps
have had to be redrawn,
shorelines and boundaries moved.
However now I can walk my mind back into past times
and circle all the seasons of my existence
at once.
Barn doors are wide open to tomorrow lands,
My earth is still rich and good,
my store runneth over.
I am not the master here, just a worker following
a tilling, plowing, and seeding Owner;
I am charged only to oversee
this landscape of me.
When this soil I have worked
at last is blown away on the winds of time
a plantation of plenty
will be reflected in the mirror of eternity,
and I will be a servant of my most High Self
at home once more in my Master's mansion.
A wise man said “all you need is love.”
To satisfy our dear Lord above
God made us hoping we’d live in peace
That earth would be a gleeful retreat.
Imagine being in mist of war
Living in fear behind one's front door
Afraid to sleep, in a living hell
Listening for the latest bombshell.
Seeing dead bodies strewn all around
Innocents sadly heavenward bound
Glorious buildings raised to the floor
Been and gone, destroyed for evermore.
The Lord must weep to oversee this
It’s not the way we’re meant to exist
God created a world full of grace
For everyone in the human race.
Most folk on earth have a sacred heart
Knowing what’s right and wrong, from the start
All we need is love, those words so true
From a songster, who died from hate too.
Where the haze of the soul and heart meet
As darkness wiggles and enigmas excrete
Whispers hit over an unfathomable abyss
A story of love and shadows starts to wiss
Amid a mist of ambiguity and skepticism,
an opus of whispers bursts aestheticism.
Invisible hands oversee the visceral dance,
When light and shadow share a glance.
Soft, seductive, shadowy muttering,
Raising awareness over innate yearning
Such ethereal sparks on a gloomy night
Sparking zeal to sustain the fire bright.
Within the eerie abyss of one's heart
Love and gloom share an intense start.
Our bond is a tango of dim light and shade
As tales disappear and real facts are laid.
"In the misty corridors of the soul"
The harm of gossip is lasting and taking its toll.
Inextricably linked with affection and gloom
A dance of lies for all to witness and bloom.
Murmurs resound with an introspective tune
We're reaching closer as we quest and swoon.
Digging into the worst depths of our appetite
Grasping the reality that generates love tight.
*3
These are the men who go off to war
They go overseas to an uncertain shore
It’s hard to recall what they’re fighting for
But we’re all told we’re gonna need more
These are the men
These are the men
These are our men who conquer the land
With heads held high and motives so grand
It doesn’t take long; we don’t understand
Why it’s not working out as it was planned
These are our men
These are our men
These are our men who sail on the sea
Protecting the people like you and like me
It doesn’t take long before we agree
Right here at home is where they need to be
These are our men
These are our men
These are our men who fly through the air
Incredible courage, where no one else dares
But after a while, we all start to care
Why they’re not here and why they’re over there
These are our men
These are our men
Most of these men are scarce more than boys
They should be at home playing with toys
Without a care, finding life’s joys
Not the tip of the spear for politic’s ploys
These are our men
These are our men
When will this end, Lord? When will it cease?
This striving for war instead of for peace
The world is a hostage in need of release
And Satan’s dominion just seems to increase
These are our men
These are our men
Come, Maranatha, yes, come, Jesus, come!
This battle is over; You’ve already won
Deceiver defeated, he’s now on the run
Praise be to God: Father, Spirit, and Son
These are your men
These are your men
I will trust you, Lord, that you’re in control
You’re here in the weeping, You’re here to console
You oversee all, watching over my soul
In You all things fit, in You all things whole
This is Amen
This is Amen
--------
This is one that I read to myself in constant time, 4 beats per lines 1-4, 2 beats for lines 5-6
I keep changing the refrain. I think I like this best - move from impersonal to personal to realization that they are in the Lord's care, and finally, 'let it be so'.
5 These are the boys (2x)
6 Seems to increase (2x)
7 Father and Spirit/Father and Son
One never knows when flowers once
afforded healthy bloom
Whose tending in the bed of love
rewarded fragranced hue
May oversee a consequence
of shadowed, barren gloom
When overnight it seems the sun
will never shine anew
It seems the sun will never shine
Sometimes, when shadows fall
It’s then, but then, we must believe
And rise above it all
A wilted rose will bow its head
to weather such a storm
As deep inside its will to live
is rooted yet to grow
A fresh and lovely stem of pink
or yellow gold may form
To flourish once again and brim
my garden’s lustrous glow
I try to understand the thorns
reminders they must be
To help appreciate the sun
each time it lights my day
When suddenly the clouds roll in
to umbrage what I see
I worry not, for I believe
that soon, they’ll drift away
Everyone has to stand
Either side of the belt
In two big lines.
Line managers fill
Reserve boxes full of nuts.
Then comes the chocolate.
A column of chocolate.
We have to stand and
Watch out for the frays in the belt.
We must stay in our lines
And trust the boxes have been refilled
With nuts.
Unending boxes full of nuts,
An unending formation of chocolate
Coming closer to where we stand.
Moving hands ahead blur the belt,
Quick and steady hands keeping in line.
Already the boxes look less full.
The bosses in blue hairnets refill
The boxes full to the top of nuts.
They oversee the decoration of chocolate.
Every day and they do this by sitting
By the boxes on the side of the belt,
Chatting, or milking power out of nuts.
And it’s us on the line
Who get the blame when the boxes are empty,
And chocolate goes by without being nutted,
And they have to chuck away trays of chocolate,
We’re sweating from their shouting but we stand;
We keep our places by the belt.
Our place is by the belt.
Either side of the line.
We do not wait for the nuts to be refilled.
If necessary we will take them from our friends
We think only of the chocolate.
For as long as it takes, we stand.