Best Pairings Poems
I turn to my girl highlighting Mayday is near
A day of spectacle that the whole village views
There's Jesters of folly and Knights without fear
Witnessing lances and jokes, always going askew
To view such we can venture along different ways
We can stroll by the river listening to many sounds
In awe as we walk amidst most wondrous displays
That on any given day beautiful vistas abound
Decisions, decisions, as we contemplate which way
It's such a special day wondering what to wear
Beauty personified will my Olive be on this day
Knights or Royal Princes, all they can do is stare
So tomorrow we've decided to be our chosen route
Two hearts in decision, declaring what's their suit
Mayday morn now greets as I turn next to me
She my guiding light as beautiful as the dawn
Excitement illuminates for into her eyes I see
Onto my back I lie, that feel she's now upon
Into this day we go heading along the river
Crystal clear translucent such serenity in it's flow
Under greened canopies cooled shaded deliver
Wafting leaved dress in delightful fanned throw
We sense the clearings near for scents we sense
Sporadic clusters in capture of welcoming eyes
Mayday games have started, distant heard suspense
Knights on horseback mounted, now in espy
Now we're in amidst encapsulated we now are
She's here to cheer, her Sir James, soon to spar
Balcony she now awaits, white steed he's now astride
Blinkered pairings gallop towards intended foe
To win this Mayday he, to fight for her his bride
Eliminate his enemy, witness his crimson flow
His lance in now connect, thrown metal disperses
Petals of beauty hurled of rainbows selected
Images of we, now thinking marital rehearses
To know on this day, her intended she's elected
Moments of their previous now in recent past
Knowing they're now free in kaleidoscopic stream
Spectrum of feelings now in view full cast
In colourful extremes, fight for your dreams
.
Ecclesiastes 3:1 [King James Version of the Bible]
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the
heaven:
Prayer makes man human for in our innocence, we pray.
Knowing, that we're limited in sincerity; we seek.
Palm to palm, oft on our knees, childless, we of clay convey
the hope for healthy children to the Universe, we speak.
Our pairings blessed, our off-springs bloom, each yin seeks a yang.
Coupled moving forward walking hand and hand, yang calls to yin.
All we've known is but a part, a grain, falling from His hand;
adult children pray oft on their knees since, we are akin.
Around and round the cycle rolls in Universes untold
whether the parts know or seek the whole, still they grow, and go.
Yet, only the sentient pray and dream, eyes half open, behold
the Eternal wonder of creation, yet ... who knows, who knows?
Does the quark pray for a quark, does the sun pray for decay
does the Universe seek black holes? Who can say, who can say?
You were placed on the planet
to write rhymes
but to many times
people tried to fit you
in between their lines
Their prefect pairings
not caring or wanting to be fair or kind
They couldn’t possibly see you
They were bonafide blind
not understanding you
unable to peek into your multifaceted mind
You say “Darkness and Negativity”
But you are starting off in the right place
praying on your knees
No, not needing the societal disease
Who cares if it’s man you please
Only God has the answers
He holds all the keys
He gave us the birds and the bees
and lets us build our houses
out of his trees
Change is coming
I can feel it cold blowing
on the breeze
Maybe God will show us
what He sees
I know sometimes
That mirror feels cracked and broken
The image you see is frozen
Words stuck on the other side of the glass
your reflection has never spoken
When you stare into those eyes
You wonder
What things will be discovered
as your spirit is awoken
Get on the love yourself train
God’s blessed you with a token
Don’t worry, I think all of us
feel incomplete
doing the life sad shuffle
just off a bit by a half beat
yet we get off our asses and repeat
Nothing ever got done
spending to much time in a seat
Get moving guy
bring out those happy feet
You’ve got things to do
and people to meet
Put words down on paper
Take all those thoughts
the good, bad, bold and beautiful
flow-fully fill up that stark white sheet
Like yours “my reality”
is imbedded within my insanity
sometimes I’m the victim
of my own voracious vanity
I think I need to go it alone
While needing something
to fill up this heart cavity
Sometimes I feel like floating far far away
yet I can’t escape emotional gravity
My loneliness is my own preferred prison
I am my own worst enemy
Is this a strange self fulfilling prophecy
Do I need to be separate from society
If so why do I want people to look and see
To read the essence that resides in me
It’s only when I write that I totally feel free
I guess in the end I’m who I am born to be!
Inspired by Christen Foster’s “My Reality” piece.
Join me in welcoming a new poet to our family.
Blank sheet, taunting me
Daring the person I used to be
To blurt it out, let words flow free
But too deep into my insecurity
I have drowned, no hope for me
What happened to my pen and pad therapy
My safe place, infiltrated by doubt
Nothing from within, brave enough to come out
Generic pairings of letters seeking clout
Simple ramblings, who knows what they’re about
Any ounce of approval, no matter the amount
Rusty thoughts like the abandoned Tin Man
Cobwebbed brain needing “oil can”
Hoping out there is just one fan
Follow through, girl, you made a plan
Death ...
Death is NOT the enemy
It is but the longest part of eternity
The essential part that gives life its preciousness and value
It is the body's rest, the spirit's release, and the soul's freedom
When we again join tenderly with the Universe ... coalesce with the cosmos.
Apathy ...
Apathy is TRULY the enemy
It is the thief of all that's good and estimable
Its complacent dynamism will rob you of all you feel and find of value
It is the lie of substances - the voice they whisper you, sweet
That life is for THEIR purpose alone - the endless pursuit of euphoria.
Escape ...
Apathy's true and wily ambition
The artful, errant ambition it has perfected
Escape from worry, escape from stress, escape from pain and pity
But in truth, escape from love and emotion and responsibility ... and LIFE
An escape that is permanent, impervious and cold.
Death ...
Death can come to you in many ways
And it can come long, long before you breathe your last
For substances - the great lie - will strip your passions, for good and gone
Even if you are released from the grip of their addictions and affects
Your heart will never thrum - never MOVE - with the sacred intensity it did.
Poet ...
I am a poet, among other things
I do my best to write honestly, with unusual phrasing and imagery
Melding fresh word pairings and ideas with classic style ... and emotion
Imagine what I could write - the Sonnets and Odes and Verses and Rhymes
If I wasn't cursed by my own poor choices, to never feel DEEPLY ... again.
Fool ... oh, fool!
trees dilly-O sing.
mellow skies surmise —
they’re not quite blue, white nor gray.
knocking in front and back —
pileated woodpeckers, shockers
with crests, crafty
to home owls and bats,
like royal courts of yore
dillydally the enemy within
mine walls.
the oaks shade their eyes,
press into my panes,
scratch during a storm,
rain on my parade.
yet, I can’t help...but adore
the pines and oaks,
ivy that wraps serpentine around bark,
wild flowers ready to leap
on ballet toes,
touch my nose with romantic scent.
so Spring,
the sachet of hidden things,
like a freeze game come to life
with intrigue, potentiality
of pairings — doves, robins,
crows and the like.
what if i could climb the tall trunk
high, below the unseen clouds —
easy does it.
my hair sailing like a pirate.
my grin foolhardy.
my heart doesn’t know what it needs.
it needs trees.
2/27/2021
To mill pond at dawn's new day
rippling sunbeams over the calm surface play
freely amongst the stately swans gliding there
in contented pairings, turning sees' a hare
and leveret munching on borage and honeycombs
breakfasting, as a polluted tributory stream foams
with poisonous effluence five hundred yards away
to mill pond at dawn's new day
His picture was fake, but she was truly PHAT,
Liking her, he messaged her to chat back ASAP.
While chatting, she was shown the guy's true image: “WTH?”
she texted back to her gal pal, throwing in - SMH.
Acting all nice, she told the guy, “BRB.”
Privately she was wearing a BEG.
He believed for a short while that the girl was simply AFK.
Instead that PHAT ended up completely MIA.
March 25, 2021
for the Acronyms In Couplets Poetry Contest of L. Milton Hankins
PHAT = Pretty hot and tempting
ASAP = As soon as possible
WTH = What the heck?
SMH= Shaking my head
BRB = Be right back
BEG= Big evil grin
AFK= Away from keyboard
MIA = Missing in action
(I tried to match syllable counts per individiual couplet pairings, with the PHAT of the last line counting as four distinct syllables)
We big, tough, well-thinking male bearberries blew and we snarled and we spouted and we blew.
But those danged dandelions obstinately kept their tops on, no matter how much we did fuss.
Come on fellas, I said to my fellow bearberries. Here is just what we’ll do…
“I’m not taking them!” I screamed at B.B.2, our leader, a passive little cuss.
I was talking about those damned tiger lilies, our groupies.
I am so sorry Tiger Lilies, he told them. It’s just us bear berries today. He shot an apologetic look to T.L. 1 and T.L. 402.
I am sick and tired of my whole life being video- recorded by those selfie-taking nut-buckets, I told him, indignant, and with an angry face.
They will clean your house, wash your floors, pay your bills, wax your car, and do your laundry, said B.B. 2.
I don’t care if my house implodes on its dirtiness, I retorted. Just keep them in their place.
I was talking about those damned tiger lilies, our groupies.
Tiger Lily 58 sneaked back into the Bearberry Lodge, where Tiger Lilies are never supposed to be.
We did not see her at first as she used her invisibility tablet to reach us; I felt her heat on the back of my neck, before I saw her.
She began to give me a really nice, warm, massage and sweet backrub which was the best I had had times three.
Wow! What is that? I asked myself, as I began getting tingly and happy all over, and down under.
I guess I was talking about these wonderful tiger lilies, our allies.
My dad had told me a long time ago that the best pairings in the meadow was always a BB and a T.L.
Who are you? I whispered to Tiger Q. Lily 58. I am your soul mate, she responded, can you please meet me at 2?
Where? I wondered, and she immediately conveyed that she would be at northern rise of Bunny P. Hill.
I will be there with my matching rings, I told her. Are you ready? Yes, she agreed. No one else will do.
I am now hitched to a wonderful tiger lily, and all my mean thoughts
toward T.L.'s seem pretty damned silly.
(And I don’t care whether or not the dandelions ever lose their
tops. They are of no use to me now.)
Dated: May 12,2018
The Beer Drinker
Seven, the shop in the village closes at eight, something my wife
needed...so ok. I took the narrow road the one that has trees on
both sides it is a bit longer and I did not have to do this but I had
been drinking beer didn’t like to be stopped by eager police they
have been coming down on foreigner, giving fine for anyone over
the legal limit they get a percentage of the fine.
In the middle of the road, I stopped light from my car casted
a un- earthly impression and I saw wolves crossing the road,
wild boars galloping as avoiding an enemy or enemies, hares
in burrows and glades trembled. The nightlife of the damned, their
night was not a cosy fireside where fairy tales were told, a struggle
to survive this night, to forage food, they are more scared of each
other than of me. Life of wild animals is short sharp and painful,
- or is it- yet we have no right to interfere for they are free and
live a life that within its confine has mirth and happy pairings.
And then the full moon came I got out of the car undressed
and bathed in its blue, silvery light, shivering but it was
worth being at one with nature which we lost and still think
we can regain. My wife never got her the garlic, but I was not
bitten through the night, but my love for the woman who
married someone else still appears in my dreams.
SETI
SETI is non-sense. Intelligences we have experienced visiting us in Unexplained Aerial Phenomena evolved so very, very long ago that any electro-magnetic radiation
They may have manipulated have long ago dissipated beyond the detection
Of our receivers.
We observe quantum “phenomena,” and have even manipulated
This ?“Spooky action at a distance.”
To our visitors this realm of reality is the fabric of their civilization.
Their communications aren’t mystical telepathy, they exist entangled between energies’ pairings.
How then can our multi-billion dollar ears hear that which exists in realities beyond our
Technological senses?
Somehow they and their vehicles translate into quantum energies,
Able to communicate, even commute through “matter”
Across the universe.
If we survive, we have billions of years of catching up to do.
? Albert Einstein, 1930
Sweet Dawn Kisses
Woven patterns of
tapestry blushings,
threaded pairings of
non-metallic shimmering
wait beyond -
soft feathered breaths, hazed visions,
flowing on a pale horizon,
weeping within a forecast of darkness -
dreaming only of the light
draping gun metal skies
in effervescent brocade blooms
Moon glow sonatas
echo between pearl drop
starscapes whispering
a fond farewell -
and a songbird choir
harmonizes with glistening dew drops,
reflecting sweet dawn kisses
on plum petal cheeks
as morning returns
finding you in my arms
once again
Good morning Soupers
How curious it is a simple word
Chimes a memory with one syllable heard
Glorious pairings smoothly roll off the tongue
Tease the lips, oh, air from lungs
Notes of a sentence play a true melody
Chords together, a balanced harmony
Limitless expressions for my soul to capture
The sheer pleasure to pronounce : Euphoria, Bliss, and Rapture
Our old clothes are stained rags,
Filled with holes, torn from snags,
Hung from bones since we were born,
Totally tattered and overly worn
But a new wardrobe has been bought,
Paid for with blood—that of the Begot,
Hung from a cross all beaten and bruised
To give us the following, each garment new:
Patience is our pants (both start with letter P)
Our shirt? Think sober of self, a.k.a. humility
Walk in forgiveness (how else shall bitterness lose?)
—Makes sense that it's our socks and shoes
A kindness coat gives an impression that lingers
Mercy and meekness: mittens for fidgeting fingers
I made these pairings, most off the top of my head,
But God stitched them with love, a most powerful thread
The Palinend
the Palinend is a form of poetry that the last word of each line is spelled backwards from the last word of the line before.
as such it always has an even number of lines.
ideally the words are spelled exactly, but the order of the sounds is paramount, that is, deer and reed is ideal, but dear and reed are still properly within the form.
Minimally there should be at least six syllables per line, and at least six lines per poem.
A variation would be where the reversal would be spread across more than one word.
Here is an example: Steve Irwin, Moses’s Mom, and Me
in amongst the Nile reed
she trusts what she held most dear
out along the barrier reef
is where he faced his fear
though through this world we strut
it is in God that we trust
thus we discover how powerful we are
in this moment, or any era
if i can stay in the now
then i’ve truly won
In this example, the first two couplets are good examples as they have the sounds in order (but not the exact spelling) The third couplet is weak, Strut and Trust are not exact reversals of each other. The fourth and fifth couples are spot on.
here’s another: reward
the part of me most reviled
is the part that will deliver
so with my spirit i will tinker
and together my parts will reknit
so i’ll dig back into that dark drawer
and there find my great reward
This one is a bit tighter, as all the pairings are exact.
If you give this a try, please post a link to your effort here in the comments, or at erbiage.wordpress.com/2016/11/04/the-palinend/