Best Part With Poems
Standing in the heart of this city
in awe of spectacular lights illuminating tall buildings.
Millions of strangers rush to and fro.
Who would've thought I would be here of all places.
But here I am feeling misplaced
in a place where no one knows your name.
I fasten the winter coat tight
to keep my heart wrapped warm,
because this city of strangers is so cold.
People wandering like bad actors struggling
to play their part with faces lacking expression.
Concrete towers seem to imprison me
in a place my soul does not belong.
I walk the same path monotonously,
wondering where it all went wrong.
But here I am feeling lost and alone .
I'm smiling but only to keep the dancing tears at bay.
I can't be someone who I'm not,
nobody seems to appreciate that I'm misunderstood.
And the dream that brought me here today,
now wants me to return home.
As my naked breath freezes in the air,
for a moment tired eyes close.
A smile sneaks through reminiscing Chamorro dreams.
Bathing under a blazing sun whose rays
glow through clear azure skies.
Crystal sapphire seas invite my soul
to immerse in tranquil waves,
peacefully admiring pestrel and
shearwater birds soaring high above.
I can almost hear warblers chirping melodic songs
of home, perched on a parade of paipai and coconut trees.
Scents of colourful plumeria and hibiscus petals
draw my senses closer to my heart's province.
Old foot prints have now washed away.
How I long to walk on sands of my forefathers,
where loved ones await with open arms.
A major honor to collaborate with Silent One
12 January 2018
Categories:
part with, absence, desire, home, longing,
Form:
Prose
Be strong in your beliefs and opinions
Give and receive them respectfully
Discuss , debate, disagree ,
Devoid of anger and intimidation
Be polite and behave graciously
Don’t try and change opinions
Or what others believe
With intimidation and insults
Just amicably disagree
Why the desire to be hurtful
Trying to out-speak and outdo
Using sarcasm just to be heard
Desperate for control and that final word
Stop being childish and hateful
Bullying is not a game
Spewing ugly vindictive words
Is not the way to make positive change
Insecurities play a part with bullies
Due to lack of self worth and self esteem
Feeling stronger in who they are
When humiliating and simply being mean
Strive for a better way
Strive for a more positive you
There are no wrongs or rights
Just different points of view
Try kindness and compassion
Seek qualities in your fellow mankind
Don’t engage in belittling interactions
Igniting troubled minds
Life is not a competition
A constant game of tit for tat
Being confrontational and critical
Is not the way decent humans act
You have created your own personal battle field
Fuelled by antagonism and controversy
It must be so emotionally draining
Being consumed with malice and negativity
Categories:
part with, anti bullying, change,
Form:
Rhyme
They tell me: clean all the closets --
give away clothes, things you'll never use--
toss it all, decorate anew -- but,
must I part with what you
touched -- what you gave life
by using, by cleaning,
by valuing? What to me
had no intrinsic worth
you made precious, and
now these are not mere objects:
the trinkets, utensils, furniture,
clothes, pictures, car, house --
machines, implements, tools, books --
all the trappings of our lives.
Discarding them will be
another step erasing you.
Putting an end. And of
my losing you -- again.
Categories:
part with, absence, allusion, angst, anxiety,
Form:
Free verse
I sat on the edge of your mattress, unsure what to expect; I kicked off my shoes and took in
your bedroom for the first time: the bookshelves, the plastic stickers wreathing the windows,
your little brother’s action figures mid-battle on the carpet, the clothing stretched out into
long piles beneath your feet.
I remember thinking you so strong and confident, wondering how we ended up beneath the
covers together. You reassured me as you crawled out to take down your blue jeans. I looked
away for fear of seeming too eager. (I wanted to look.)
Your hand trailed over my back, tracing my stomach. I had never been touched before;
every inch your fingers followed burned a path into my memory. I was sure there were
scorch marks on the sheets.
We kissed and kissed and I gasped and we kissed and I fumbled, I heard my pulse throbbing
in my ears and we kissed and I couldn’t believe I had gone my whole life without knowing the
feeling of skin on skin.
Then, you were forcing my lips to part with yours, and your tongue surprising the inside of my
mouth, a slippery, rubbery thing. I let it wander.
You curled a loose hair behind my ear. I imagine you framing my face in your hands and
bringing my chin for another kiss, but I find my memory inventing moments between us that
never passed.
But, I am sure of the sleepy look on your face every time we pulled away, the half-pouted
lips, and the pressure of your hands on my back, urging me to never stop.
Categories:
part with, angst, loveme,
Form:
Prose Poetry
The daylight is dying
Twilight comes flying
Purple and crimson blaze in the sky;
The sun's in a rush
To part with a flush
And kiss the meadow good bye.
An hour for trysting
When you come unresisting
Precious and eager on hesitant feet;
Shadows disguise us
Rose scent to baptize us
Scenting our bed with odours so sweet.
We can't know the reason
Or the span of a season
But eternal the stars shine up above;
We never had sought it
We never had thought it
Were it not jeweled with the beauty of love.
But all is forgiven
By chance that has given
An hour for the transition of youth;
We never will know it
But our dream will now show it
Changing it all to astonishing truth.
The fireflies ignite you
My breath will delight you
Nothing will vex the passing of hours;
Come, I await you
Night is too late for you
Come while the dewdrops are kissing the flowers.
The wind of the night is
Fragrant with lilies
Touched by a moonbeam, kissed by the dew;
The garden lies breathless
Where love awaits deathless
Under the starlight, I'm waiting for you.
Categories:
part with, love,
Form:
Rhyme
I wrote this in memory of my uncle.
Flowers die and pictures fade,attempting
to erase every memory ever made.
Letters are lost while the clouds roll in,
letting the rain pour and the sadness begin.
Feelings are lost and people pass on,showing
us we're the one's who have to be strong.
GOD gives us strength to keep our head held high,
not letting the wonders of the world pass by.
Love everyday and you will see,miracles
happen when you believe.
Nothing can stop you from living your life,
even when the pain cuts like a knife.
Some family we've lost and some still remain,
leaving only love and happiness to be gained.
Some memories fade while the best never die,
leaving you with feelings of wanting to laugh and cry.
People make the biggest impact without even trying,
then everything changes when they are dying.
Ton's of faces get lost in the crowd,
to your surprise certain one's stand out.
GOD gives you love and never leaves you alone,
providing a loving family along with a good home.
Life will bear obstacles and put you to the test,
but you have to be strong and always try your best.
Never back down from any hardship thrown your way,
it will make you stronger until your last day.
Say what you feel in your heart and never back down, even
when your taking your last breath take one last look around.
Angels are singing a song only you can hear,
complete the last part with an open heart,
and absolutely no fear.
Flowers will die and pictures will fade,
but your memory is one that will always stay.
In Loving Memory of my Uncle
You will be missed dearly.
MAY 28th 2012
Categories:
part with, tribute, family, lost, memory,
Form:
Free verse
This is the last piece to go. All the others are sold.
I hate to part with it, but now that I've grown old
I need to find the right home for it before I die.
I'll explain its importance if you're wondering why.
You see, it's been a treasure since before I was born.
My father found it buried in a city that was war torn.
He marveled that among all the rubble and concrete,
no scratch marred its beauty nor was it burned by heat.
It graced our living room with the status of a Queen,
Most beautiful Brazilian Rosewood vanity ever seen.
Father had to have it to match the great beauty of his wife,
Adrianna, was fragile and giving birth to me took her life.
Father gave me the vanity, a priceless piece, an heirloom.
One rainy day I was bored and was dancing around my room.
I bumped into the vanity and from behind a drawer fell a note...
"Who ever finds this, look for the secret," my Mother wrote.
That was seventy years ago, and no secret did I ever find.
Age has taken my strength away and now that I am blind,
I can no longer search for the secret within this vanity.
I want it to belong to someone kind while I still have my sanity.
It's being auctioned by verbal bid so I can hear the voice
of the one I deem worthy of my treasure. I'll make the final choice.
Money is no longer important so the auctioneer will look to me
when that special voice I hear, I'll nod and that bid will be the fee.
I've set no starting bid and no reserve for it's time to let it go.
Come, take a look. Rub your hand across the wood grain's glow.
I hope you will find the secret my Mother hid so well inside,
perhaps a young man will take it home, as a gift for his bride.
The value to me is priceless, and I would sell it for only a cent.
If I hear something in your voice, I will know for you it's meant.
""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
February 24, 2016 " The Auctioneer Contest by Mystic Rose
Categories:
part with, feelings,
Form:
Rhyme
What loathesome burden wears your weary heart
a trinket on a cold and hoary hand?
And in its dark tide drowns the cheery part
to keep you bound, a pet, upon its strand?
Without a keel, alone and sad, unmanned
to sail the main and brave the tempest storm;
it claims the fairer part with stark demand,
and wails its horrid knell upon reform.
Stand now and rend the pall that kept you warm
and stagnant to the early morning light.
Cast out the deaf'ning rage of crushing swarm
and air the sweetness of your bitter plight.
Release your deathly grip on this disease,
And from your fingers let it fly the breeze.
Categories:
part with, introspection
Form:
Sonnet
Standing in the heart of this city
in awe of spectacular lights illuminating tall buildings.
Millions of strangers rush to and fro.
Who would've thought I would be here of all places.
But here I am feeling misplaced
in a place where no one knows your name.
I fasten the winter coat tight
to keep my heart wrapped warm,
because this city of strangers is so cold.
People wandering like bad actors struggling
to play their part with faces lacking expression.
Concrete towers seem to imprison me
in a place my soul does not belong.
I walk the same path monotonously,
wondering where it all went wrong.
But here I am feeling lost and alone .
I'm smiling but only to keep the dancing tears at bay.
I can't be someone who I'm not,
nobody seems to appreciate that I'm misunderstood.
And the dream that brought me here today,
now wants me to return home.
As my naked breath freezes in the air,
for a moment tired eyes close.
A smile sneaks through reminiscing Chamorro dreams.
Bathing under a blazing sun whose rays
glow through clear azure skies.
Crystal sapphire seas invite my soul
to immerse in tranquil waves,
peacefully admiring pestrel and
shearwater birds soaring high above.
I can almost hear warblers chirping melodic songs
of home, perched on a parade of paipai and coconut trees.
Scents of colourful plumeria and hibiscus petals
draw my senses closer to my heart's province.
Old foot prints have now washed away.
How I long to walk on sands of my forefathers,
where loved ones await with open arms.
Silent One collaboration with Akkina Downing
12 January 2018
Categories:
part with, absence, angst, home,
Form:
Prose
What I miss:
The scents of fancy foods and good intent
The hugs of friends at church and sinners' lament
Foods we share on celebration Sunday, rest in my chair
Sometimes I think this whole situation totally unfair
Substitutions I like:
Riding down to Flint River, a sliver of respite
Gone from cesspit of isolation and COVID 19 the despot
Then go by Diary Queen for a treat; so, so neat
A two for one on Sunday, a Sundae full of sweet
What I miss:
The weekly visits inspissate family ties
When we come together, no matter the weather time flies
We enjoy a meal, have our fill until
How the time flies, we part with goodwill
How God blessed from the herb garden:
Tiny yellow butterflies, such small fellows land
Their presence upon the pineapple sage so grand
Hummingbirdmoths feed at the troth of Maximillia sunflower
The giant fuchsia zinnias compliant to Monarch's scour
All in all God has blessed
He lifts me up; He's my guest
Sometimes I'm lonely and sometimes sad
But God fills voids and listens to my request
Finis'
Written: November 01, 2020
Sponsor: Joseph May
Contest: In Rhymes Sublime
Categories:
part with, age, introspection, people, places,
Form:
Rhyme
Touched by a moonbeam
Touched by a moonbeam with you I glide
I can now drink from a well of stars
staring out at this night’s friendly guide
my spirit knows no more bounds.
Touched by a moonbeam with you I glide
your warm glow melts away my core
drying up all tears in its outpour
in your orbit I am now released;
your presence pacifies my fears
ripples back the years
as my eyes search your face
by this secret light,
the light of the moon.
Touched by a moonbeam
with you I glide
swiftly on this path of elation
I crave your affection.
Dawn its gift of light I bid delay
a blissful encore I’m asking your way
for a touch of eternity in your embrace
I felt dear moon, dear friend,
I’m touched by your graceful ballet
the waning of your rays
I beg you to stay, beg you to stay.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
(orchestral part with soaring music)
Touched by a moonbeam
with you I glide
swiftly on this path of elation
I crave your affection.
Dawn its gift of light I bid delay,
a blissful encore I’m asking your way
for a touch of eternity in your embrace
I felt dear moon, dear friend,
I’m touched by your graceful ballet
the waning of your rays I beg you to stay,
beg you to stay, beg you to stay,
for a touch of eternity in your embrace
I felt dear moon, dear friend
I’m touched by your graceful ballet,
the waning of your rays
I beg you to stay
beg you to stay.
note: Dear reader, I beg you to try and slow down your reading so that you can match the pace of the reading to the music. (I have tried to match my lines to form a lyrical piece. ?)
The composer, by the way, is Brian Crain.
Categories:
part with,
Form:
Lyric
Lady laughed manic, scrubbing hands
blood stained fingers washed one another
The water, scalding, removed any trace
that evil had transpired here
Her eyes wide and wild...recounting, remembering....
...reliving...rejoicing. He lay dead, face down
Vengence surged euphoric
She whispered through smiling teeth
'You won't hurt me no more'
removing red spattered hand made dress
Naked she laughed and knelt to the splintered floor
piece by piece she pried the wood
Fumbling with foreign tools
Creating this corpses tomb
Rolling this limp, lifeless mass into the earth below
Her bruised, weary face stared down
His eyes, one stabbed, met hers as she smiled
pouring lye over his hated face and limbs
Tossing the dress down to the crypt
She grabbed the knife to follow it's path
thought better of it...keeping it gripped in hand
....a symbol of her new found strength, she couldn't part with it
Replacing planks of floorboards like jigsaw puzzle pieces
Hammering them in place to make a more familiar scene
The table was pushed over to conceal the calvary
She sat...eyes wide and wild...to a dinner made for two
she sighed...naked and relieved...slowly carving the meat
Categories:
part with, lost love
Form:
Narrative
The inspiration becomes a song
depending on an oceans verse
a seagull's cry calls upon the ancient mariner
Enchanting riches turns to dust moulded
Singing sunrise over horizon's mist
on the dark side of a moonbeam lost
Howling into an empty void
blood drips upon material planted
rays of light paints with hope dwells peace
From it's seed grows the apple bitten
once sewn deeply shades the blossoms pink
flowing rivers turning tides over
The seas part with death tolling time's reflection
watered by dewdrops sparkling green pastures growing
stronger for living pierced within daggers hurled by hate
Salted the remains of injured spiced injustices bring
perfumed inside regrets a living truth expelled nightmares
we all become haunted by ghosts of a past life
hunted by the wolves whom pack abuse unrelenting
We become the sheep
through eyes of forgiveness
held forever fragile within cotton wool
dancing away with the clouds
makes way for the sky to open your eyes
to colour through our optic nerves
one vision in words to complete
Categories:
part with, beautiful, beauty, emotions, faith,
Form:
Narrative
Sins Of The World Washed Away:
The mist shrouds and floats in the valleys,
gentle wind moving it slowly.
Overcast skies, day gloomy,
bringing forth small rain drops.
Refreshing the trees,
cleansing nature
all around.
Renew.
Green.
Fresh
the air.
Moist petals.
Snails now roam.
Droplets of water,
clinging from all the leaves.
Now a rainbow does appear.
Everything seems bright and new.
All the sins of the world washed away.
Steven Beesley (c)
Double Nonet:
A double Nonet has 9 lines in the first part with 9 syllables in the first line and descending in 1 syllable for each successive line. the second part of the Nonet starts with 1 syllable in the first line and ascends to 9 syllables in the last line.
18 lines in total.
Categories:
part with, life, nature, world,
Form:
Nonet
I'm the ultimate
bookworm
my mother, God Bless her,
taught me the joy
of reading
of writing
of using thought
for something
a little more meaningful
than cars, popularity
money or fame
in books
your mind can travel
there are no barriers
for you
each book adds
another flavor
to your being
another star
to your mind's sky
they are things
of beauty
because you share them
the reader and the author
each merged together
somehow their minds
make more than two
so I have spent
a king's ransom
in the years when
I could afford
to accumulate
these golden treasures
far more rich
than gold or silver
I made the master bedroom
of my current home
a library quite extensive
where my mind can roam
I have so many books
I could not fit them all
but part with one?
never....
for any reason under the sun
I have diaries from the civil war
faded slightly
but still a wonderous mirror
into a time and life
never to return
many other treasures
but books among my best
I could never be
a librarian
little work would
I get done
my eyes would be stuck
inside my charges
and no one could
withdraw a one.
Categories:
part with, childhood, education, mother, on
Form:
Bio