Best Paean Poems
Now, at last, I finally understand:
I can never be complete within myself...
without You, my emotions betray me,
my mind counteracts itself,
hope will flee me, despair will eat me,
unless I reach out for Your love
with a child's open arms....
THE MARX BROTHERS or The Unimportance of Being Earnest
I will praise the brothers Marx for their absurdity
As all ‘fools’ who mask high wisdom with the artless
May they lift our spirits faced with an adversity
The rejection of such gladness would be heartless
For when loosed of strictures rife with disapproval
Their spirits could create with wild abandon
Then without constraints demanding the removal
Of that which breaks the sanctity some stand on
So I bless them for activities unbounded
Say our God is not a solemn old curmudgeon
Their folly then belied the earnest tied and grounded
Freed from stark importance laid on with a bludgeon
Could it be they heard on entering The Hereafter
Not only harp strings, but the joyful sound of laughter
10 September
Contest: My Upcoming Birthday Celebrity
Sponsor William Kekaula
What due is this, O feline fierce,
for what affront thus penalized
with calibrated nips that pierce
for soft caress unauthorized?
T’was you with brazen move unasked
who burnished coat upon my limb.
What dire affect iconoclast
did stir your feral feline whim?
The cat is oft like womankind
beyond man's feeble intellect,
a primal spirit state of mind,
requiring manners circumspect.
Disguised as a horse,
Walked the rim of the track
Stepping onto the hippodrome
There was no turning back
Zeus, piqued by this folly
Turned proud steed into donkey
At the wire annoyed spectators
Might think him an ass?
Oh, you daughters and sons of Man,
Latent heralds of truth,
Oh, you pioneers of hope, peace and mercy,
Sleeping apostles of compassion,
Wake up and join our ever-expanding ranks of love,
You, solemn knights of light,
For it is time that darkness sounds retreat,
Beyond the boundaries of earth!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
24 NOVEMBER 2012
Happy May Day, all you PS boys and girls...EVOE!
Squeeze a cherry and let it sit,
And don't forget to take out the pit.
Let it ferment,
At least a day as a rule,
To give it some zing
And a kick like a mule.
Do the same with the blackberry,
There on the vine,
Then fill full the flagons
With festival wine.
From cherry to berry
We'll ramble along,
Our cups full of hooch,
Our young hearts full of song.
Inside the tubs
The fruit still ferments.
Those juices have uses
To enhance our intents
To revel with Bacchus,
The god of the vine.
With each quaff of the vino
We erupt into rhyme.
Be it barley and hops,
Or cherry or berry,
Let flow freely the brew
Whilst we drink and make merry.
Tomorrow's regret
Is tonight's joyful song,
The flesh may be weak, boys,
But the spirits are strong.
Author's note: I'm just doing a bit of reminiscing with this one, dear readers, remembering all those Sunday afternoon "beer busts" and "ice cream socials" that added so much flavor to my university experience. Also suggested by a story on the local news some time ago about the theft of a great number of cherries off trees in a private backyard here. No evidence to suggest if they were destined for pies or, perhaps, spirits like Kirsch or Maraschino. A Wikipedia moment for those who don't know: Bacchus is the Greco-Roman (Dionysus to the Greeks) deity of the grape harvest, winemaking, and wine, and of ritual madness and ecstasy. He was a real party animal.
My door is decked with holly and pine,
The larder’s stocked with fancy food and wine.
Tiny lights twinkle on bannister and tree,
Dozens of cookies to bake, if there’s time free.
Knitting needles flash for each gift,
Presents need wrapping, but my spirits lift,
As I look forward to visitors sharing
This season of love and caring.
Corny old movies to see,
Golden retriever cards sent to me.
Dog cookies and jerky too I’ll bake,
For my goldies to greedily take.
Singing with joy old carols,
Especially if peace they herald.
Holiday parties at friends’ homes,
Catching up with others an excuse to roam.
But after the hubbub a chance to relax,
Wine and pellet stove a soothing anticlimax.
A good book awaits on summer paddling fun,
‘Twill transport me to the season of sun.
So here’s wishing you such happy fun,
Once the bustling about is done.
May love and joy fill your holiday season,
Fond memories made for any reason.
MRT 12-21-15
When David McDee read the news on TV
There never was murder or stealth
Just birthdays and weddings (new recipes, too)
And people inheriting wealth.
How Mrs. McDee's flower bed came along,
How neighbors had torn down the fence.
Such positive bits of informative news
To David, made imminent sense.
When David McDee read the news on TV,
The weather was sunshine and warm.
The sports casts concerned only games that were won;
All losses considered bad form.
When David McDee read the news on TV
Pure innocence lighted our eyes
There were no surprises or odd little wrongs:
All greetings and never goodbyes
Skype tells me it’s your birthday, Polly Ross,
a disembodied message from the ether
that nipped me like a redback. “Southern Cross” –
remember that? So, hurl it in my teeth, or
delete me, tweet me, blank me, come across –
do what you will, I’m living with the loss.
You probably no longer give a toss.
If only I’d a cooler glamour-gloss,
could be more Aussie actor (Meller? Heather?)
you’d see the gold, and set aside the dross.
I miss you, need you. There. But you’re the boss …
A light beacon in the iciest of regions,
Solar winds full of both brilliance and bluster
Glory of trenchant travelers from afar;
Skyward sorcery that time does not mar.
Shining with such a wonderful lustre,
Lantern of lucidity wherefore philosophers seek a Reason.
As every Winter grows thick,
The prowl of the sabretooth,
The hunger of the polar bear,
The pale of the moon's watchful eyeWhen one begins to sigh,
Wondering how your frost-bitten fingers will fare,
Knowing not how to go on, in sooth:
Suddenly, into place your bones and thoughts begin to click
As you look up and see her,
Fluorescing ever more wildly, frantically bright
Shimmering blue and silver
Fiercely haloing over you through the Night.
Her loyalists curse the cold which she can scarcely resist,
Trekking miles to reach her through the Evergreen forests.
She has the heart of a snow lioness
Looking after her cubs through harsh distress.
But though her beneficiaries honour her in a climate that's chilly,
She is not really averse to the comforts of Man.
In fact, she is a Lady of both magnanimity and indulgence
That it is yet unwise to deem too silly,
For she glows beyond all treats to a greater span:
Appearing before earth with a gift of utmost refulgence.
Existing by herself, like a hummingbird on a higher plane,
Where memories ancestral are stirred up, that have long been lain;
She unfurls and recharges in proud hermitage:
Ready to awaken, in you, in loneliest season and age.
Ready to ignite, when all hope seems lost;
Ready to find the Will to survive at any cost;
Ready to make the shoots push up even through the frost.
Ready to bring warmth and nourishment like the perfect host.
Though she is not perfect this much is true;
To the vulgar, her vanity sometimes stoops to kowtow.
Too in love with the humble creatures she ensnares, with a 'wow', and a
'woah'...
Too in love with the image which the crowds drew... So enthralled to the
show...
Hiding from her own lofty view
Her faults - covered by too blinding a virtue.
Mother, I still love you.
In sundry ways deaf to your zeal
Which foxy whims fruitless sway,
My wandering self did finally feel
Pearliest sparks of your legit ray.
Inured by bestial blinding decoys
Which easiest-faring limb obeys,
I did heed a deluding artful voice
That upon artless hearers preys.
For want of fine wholesome sense
Which your ancient anthems teach,
My guessing soul staggered tense;
Serf to a brutish debauching leech.
Yet now have my penitent eyes
At last gleaned your folios wise,
And found therein priceless wit
Sublimer than sage magi's writ.
Formerly the Philadelphia
Electric Company,
I wholeheartedly acclaim
founded in 1881, and
incorporated in 1929,
thence acronym
(PECO) byname
viz this recipient
as longtime customer,
I herewith favorably deliver
unstinting praise, and exclaim
my biased opinion,
sans rewardable, reputable,
and reliable utility
earned local fame
sparring fairly, and
became linkedin
with Exelon
Corporation in 2000,
asper heated
competitive rain dear game,
and if said
Power full provisioner
piping natural
gas (for profit)
analogously personified,
would be
accorded title grandame
forever abiding, deserving,
and enduring
of benevolence
however lame
such a comparison
would acquire
(from me - Matthew
Scott Harris by name)
cuz steadfast
commendable, laudable,
and reliable
quality performance,
this idea overcame
mine haphazard ferreting
for a sedulous industry,
and poetic material
(today October 27th, 2018)
rather brisk temperature
(40+ degrees Fahrenheit),
warranting this overtame
"polar bear club
member" wannabe to proclaim
unavowed, unbridled,
and unwedded warm
noble bliss oblige toward
valuable commercial entity,
which positiveness
I can only reframe
so many ways, asper basking,
experiencing, and indulging
(albeit with moderation) tame
ming (actually bring
to an abrupt halt)
my fleeting fling
to bare the raw cold,
no matter this
indentured knight
in teeth chattering armor,
doth newt cease shivering.
A Paean of Love
I love you so much my Love that I feel my heart will burst,
I crave for you so intensely that you can’t quench my thirst.
You are with me always, whether I am awake or I’m asleep,
Without my knowing, in my mind you always furtively seep.
More precious than all the riches in the world, Love you are,
You seem more attractive than the dazzlingly beautiful star,
When you’re at my side I feel the comfort of the cool breeze,
But when you are away, my whole empty life seems to cease.
My love is aflame and all consuming like a forest set on fire
With every passing moment it leaps up high and even higher.
I’ll love you with this burning passion always and for evermore.
Nestle in my heart my Love! --- Enter through the open door.
Poetic paean to papa's princess
Otherwise titled:
Mien wonderful wedded divine wife
whose piercing deliverance...,
a balm ameliorating tattooed strife
despite being dirt poor,
I cherish her pricelessness, how nice,
a beacon complementing/
supplementing homelife,
who will forever be with me
even during our (mine
atheistic couched) afterlife.
She, the mother
of our deux darling daughters, I adore
though ofttimes, she never knows...
expressing love tis quite an arduous chore
concerning me upon this (we quietly celebrate
wedding anniversary two days hence, whoa...
how quickly time doth pass, cuz we wed
yes already number xxiv, i.e. twenty four)
orbitz around the sun, we reminisce...
So much emotional turbulence
nearly rent asunder,
I accept culpability (yours truly)
strayed against sacred covenant
went wayward intrepid misdeeds
nearly perilously upended marriage,
said vaguely worded insensate blunder
wrought catastrophic upheaval
reigned analogous how millenniums ago
Vandals, Huns, Goths,
et cetera did plunder
and ransack the
outer limits of Roman empire
our pledged troth shattered,
whereby the missus outclassed Zeus,
she emitted deafening thunder,
yet annulment nor divorce,
she would not grant
sigh of great relief
and mystery I wonder...
To this July twenty third -
how hands of father time
speedily lept away
two thousand and twenty,
an (extra) ordinary day
to be alive and appreciate sticktoitiveness
toward her, whose troth I pledged
courtesy thee (sacrilegious infidel)
mine discreet liaisons spouse forgave
NOT telling me hike along highway
and/or boulevard of broken dreams, motorway
avoided, cuz she thee missus
WANTED me to stay
in role of legally wedded husband
(and father to deux special grown lasses)
when they (progeny)...
were just newborn babes yesterday!
Its rich and charismatic smell
Entranced ancestors by its spell.
Caters to all tastes, young and old,
Strikes hot against the common cold.
Its secret lies deep yet well known -
Plucked essence boiled to the bone.
Favourite flavours that go in
Depend on cultural cuisine.
In winter, spring, summer or fall -
One Chicken Soup for every soul!
Fact, not folklore, no need to probe,
Taken as truth around the globe.
CS, like PS poem, indeed,
Heals bodies and cures souls in need!
August 25, 2023