Best Peculiarities Poems
~ Frost
by
design
~ delicate,
crafted in the night,
dainty — like lacy handiwork
~ inspirational, like twisted wire, a story told —
details meted out behind heaven’s door, with peculiarities that we adore
~ O
please
inspect
windowpane
crystalline effects ~
~ seraphic white silver and gold —
the finest craftsmanship, twisted with Eden’s treasure ~
filigree beads of angelic hoary-breath, reminders of the invisible God
~ Rime
clings
to soil,
inspired world —
embraced by cold hands ~
fragile tendrils spread like ivy,
intricate cherubic smithing — like spider webbing,
subtleties sensational, O how it sparkles ~ seasonal diamondiferous earth
1/24/2018
The Magic Of Three
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
Fibonacci (8 lines) x 3 = 24 lines(pattern- 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 syllables)
Inside-Out with all the psycho-babble.
Multifaceted melange - merry and melancholy.
My pen’s prophetic,
authentic,
inadequate.
Hazel eyes that ponder divinity:
See the world.
See God through the world.
See the people.
Empathize with earthly beings.
Fall to my knees.
Seek inspiration.
Grab it with gusto.
Don’t wait for the brain to catch up.
I observe the peculiarities in my familiar space.
I often hide behind the blinds.
Occasions, work, and friends -
push me out into the serendipitous sun and clouds.
Clench books on dusty shelves.
Throw them into a shopping cart -
they’re all free.
Attempt to organize floaters -
those iotas, that crystallize,
to form a complete thought.
Exhaustive concordance of my travels -
violets, forget-me-knots, tulips,
and fear and sorrow
The viscous web of grandiose heights -
zip lines, edge of mountains, glacier treks.
Falling...falling back on my knees.
Confident? Conceited?
A poet - that’s me.
And ideas materialize -
with family and strangers,
life and death.
The affectation of emotion, pondered.
Like a journalist, I report roller-coaster happenings.
You see, I used to merely have an emotion,
get comfortable in its chair.
Now I play with it,
craft my joy or despair.
The mirror cracks -
my reflection
as I grow wizened,
with a chromatic symphony
of mystique.
Written: August 05, 2023
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I alone agnize myself, a soul set free,
In the depths of my being, I truly foresee,
Asking for aid shows self-respect and awareness,
Strength in vulnerability is a testament to fairness.
Changing my opinion is not a sign of defeat
But a strength, a willingness to grow and meet,
My proven ability backs each choice I partake.
With confidence and conviction, no room for mistake.
I encourage others, as I do myself,
To embrace their dreams, to seek and delve,
For You can ask for what you wish and need,
For in unity and support, we shall succeed.
Allow me, oh world, to feel awe-inspiring,
To explore and soar, life's beauty aspiring,
My life can balance leisure and exertion,
In harmony and rhythm, an idyllic fusion.
Others support me because I'm whole,
A soul set free, a beacon of soul,
I alone cognize myself, my true essence,
And in that knowledge, I find my presence.
So let us all embrace our inner strength,
And show the world our true extent,
For in self-respect and awareness,
We can achieve greatness, beyond compare.
I alone agnize myself, my deepest desires,
And with each step, I bear passion inspires,
In the journey of self-discovery,
Lies are the key to unlocking our true identity.
Every morning rain or shine,
she has breakfast with her flock.
The seasons change and
each has their peculiarities.
Still her faithful companions
visit daily at the appointed hour.
She leaves them seeds so they'll know
they're always welcome.
She hopes they'll come this spring
to build their nests within her flower garden.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Tell all the worlds about the treasures found
Renaissance trace spellbound in the ancient form,
Tender and haunting; an era of time curves around
Past the present to a future beset with tech charm.
Historical pages cling romantically to our eyes,
Each epoch defines a sparkling gem of surprise,
Their fluttered rebirth is like stars changing sizes
Release by time flown from the damp demise.
That dip their limbs to bow unto gloss modernity
Like the artist and sculpture, they paint a world.
Of aesthetic peculiarities and lofty discovery,
Longing to find a place soaring free in the soul.
A vault of citadels says much; then said no more
Deep within, ancient wonders rise from the ashes
Talented beauty weaves from centuries we adore,
The time and place asleep in a waste wilderness.
The plague of colors survives in medieval triumph,
England, a literary monument of architect literature.
Finds the noble heart to express cherished breath
Creating the etiquette claimed by French culture.
Such dept alone could not be paid by metamorphism
Humanism fading in a mist has its place in society,
Heightened with extreme lust and erotic mannerism,
Italy removes the conscious veil from bizarre reality.
Ceiling significant through music strings serenade,
Renaissance dazed; allusion lay dreaming half awake
The inquisition of fate went on pilgrimage made,
German sentence commute through the classical gate.
The Netherlands explore and navigate all the distances
Byzantine adherence goes beyond impregnable walls,
depict faces of the Tsars persist in the military hypothesis,
And labyrinths take refuge in Russian banqueting halls.
The richest measured proportion of distilled beverage,
Vodka values more than all the dull limited senses,
Spanish religion repository of the myths and rage
Set the path where new western experience commences.
Portugal selfie, the pinnacle piece that thirsts for commerce
Lisbon flourished paints and medicines with Flemish.
Poland concept and conflict gain border land dominance,
Spice trade rises high and makes indiscreet allusion flourish.
We travel far beyond renaissance to the greatest monument,
When the transition of culture from the middle age evolved
Mesmerized art is a rediscovery of an enduring cultural movement,
The monarch of the Roman Empire renaissance man inspired.
Wrote my dream woman on a blank piece of paper,
Said she was this, and this, enjoys this, and that,
And most important of all, she must laugh at my jokes.
(You see, my darling, I do them no justice)
Said list was long, but I found it acceptable and true,
It was, however, uncanny how it seemed to be you,
Fitting into the interlaced riddle of my specified peculiarities.
(The chicken and the egg conundrum thus begs itself)
Were you simply the fit, or were you, in fact, the mold?
Are you the dream realized, or did the dream just materialize
After having only gotten to actually know you in this life?
(I'm just going to take a shot at making you laugh)
How did the chicken go to the other side? It crossed
Knock knock! I'm the one who's there.
My dream woman, and you. Now, which came first?
(Psst... The answer's here, but I'm not telling you where)
How strange it is to see clocks on the branches of trees.
Their appearance to be melting adds to the peculiarities.
High cliffs are in the background against a stagnant sea.
Does this scenario seem a bit strange to you or me?
That thing in the middle has long eye lashes and a nose.
Unknown is what the man was saying here. What do you suppose?
This was the artist’s escape from the realm of reality.
In New York’s Metropolitan Museum, that’s what you see.
This little oil painting is “The Persistence of Memory”.
It is the product of the late, great, Salvador Dali.
Everybody knows the spot of the nose
It sits facing lighthouses, look up
Some guide ships, and stays lit
While the nose sniffs everything.
Have you seen anatomical perfection
On someone you know
Good spine, great waistline.
Looking downstairs
Nothing there, seem out of place
Some nose have wooed, wine and dine
Foreigners, even stars.
Never mind few nose have peculiarities
All else is fair
Or handsome, as with English dandy.
To add to the joy of the nose
Give it a job
Then again, the nose have been boss
Regardless of its class
Thank God, credentials rule.
If I could change something of my making
Lord knows, it would first be my nose
But the great aunt once said it suits my face
You decide. I'm on facebook, and poetry soup page.
Have you seen certain nose from around the globe?
Some will look you up and down
While others soon learn to look heaven bound.
*
The joys of married life far outweigh any minor discrepancies
Such as throwing pots and pans or other minor irregularities
Must turn a blind eye
As dangerous stuff flies by
It all part of the charm, ignore the unavoidable peculiarities
The causes of World War I,
factors such as political,
territorial
NATIONALISM,
and economic competition,
BENEFITS,
and not to let it ocur,
the breakdown of the balance of power
SUPERIORITY
as well as a series of diplomatic clashes
PRIDE
The causes of World War II
strong currents of revanchism in German politics,
PRIDE;
the worldwide economic crisis,
BENEFITS,
many people lost faith in democracy
and countries across the world
turned to authoritarian regimes,
and their ambitious and aggressive domestic and foreign policies
NATIONALISM
To those three peculiarities – NATIONALISM, PRIDE, BENEFITS,
we should also add two more today – OVER POPULATION that the earth cannot feed,
and CLIMATE CHANGE
What do you think the causes of World War III will be?
Well, no need to be a prophet to say what will happen
Now all those outcomes are visible in our time
Nevertheless,
The only thing that we want is
to live all around the world in peace
how can we manage to do that?
In the way one of the greatest leaders in history,
Mustafa Kemal ATATÜRK said
“PEACE AT HOME, PEACE IN THE WORLD”
'T was a pen pal that commence,
H appy sharing we comprehend,
A ll seasons get along its drench,
N evertheless acquaintance never change,
K ey word is hope and confidence.
Y et, a dream and admiration,
O h! how earful consolidation,
U tmost understanding with direction.
M ishap and short comings awaits
Y et we feel the ambiance outright.
W hispering strive and years of Love,
I nner desire of romantic wave,
F riends, families, come and observe,
E ternal binding agreement engraves.
R ing this affair to all our contemporaries,
U ltimate comprehensions are legendaries,
B ring peace and harmony with clarities,
Y es! you paint colors to my life peculiarities.
Sweet Blessed Poetry
55.
There is a ripeness to our labor
As tumbled words are laid to bare.
We strain against the sands of time
To preen the thoughts found there.
If our beatific Muse be predisposed
To divulge that which ought to be.
We get to peek behind the curtain...
Oh sweet blessed poetry.
The End
Love's Address
56.
I've put my house in order.
I've made peace with those above.
I've set aside my peculiarities.
I'm ready now for love.
But my efforts are contentious
And this haunts my every prayer
As love holds no current address
For which I am aware.
The End
Loss
57.
How does someone over-come
The loss of a child? An affliction
Of such magnitude... all others
Pale in comparison. A huge chasm
Opening the soul to such misery
And sorrow... both fair and foul
Succumb to tears. The comfort
Of others becomes trivial and
Unimportant. Love evaporates.
The putrid air reeks of discontent.
You cannot breath. You are alone.
You are as close to Death as a
Living person can be. You are
The walking dead. You cannot
Imagine how life can be so obtuse.
Someone tells you, 'They're in a
Better place.' Your fists clench In
Rage. They wisely walk away. You
Cannot eat. You cannot sleep. Your
Mind races to make sense of it all.
You drift back down the stairs.
There are brownies... your child's
Favorite, cruelly baked by a well-
Meaning neighbor. There is a note...
'Tomorrow will be better.' There is no
Tomorrow. There is only an endless
Parade of what you feel today.
The End
A virginal banana
gives birth to
his inner masculine
peculiarities
by peeling back
the layers of
his latent
sexual machinery.
Self-gratification
is an insincere
occupation,
a contemptuous
pleasure-seeking
leisure interest,
satisfied only
by the dexterity of one’s
lust filled imagination.
Alas,
he could only
handle his own
diminutive stature
if his blossoming bonanza
was viewed through
the magnifying glass
of a short-sighted,
armless geriatric.
Oh, to be a child
whose soul ambition
is to play
doctors and nurses
with the girl(s)
next door.
Turn around! Turn around!
In perpetual spin memories abound.
One gown, long to the ground.
Antique white - quite profound.
A mother’s right to sow seeds.
A holy Father’s to yank weeds.
Snowbound virginal waist.
No legs, the hem was chaste.
Turn around! Turn around!
In perpetual spin memories abound.
Took the dress out for a formal spin.
Line dances would break her in.
Innocence with natural beige and blush.
Looks like a bride; there is no rush.
A mother’s right to sow seeds.
A holy Father’s to yank weeds.
Thrice used for the thrifty -
sceptical mightn’t find nifty.
One gown, long to the ground.
Antique white - quite profound.
She, the dress, looks like a bride -
the prom goer would confide.
Turn around! Turn around!
In perpetual spin memories abound.
The cake topper would be baby’s breath.
A mother would provide before its death.
The death of the gown buried in drawer,
found and tried on at least once more.
In secret, her daughter found and dressed.
Who knows if she was impressed -
however looking forward, she’d pick out
her very own ankle-covered knockout.
One gown, long to the ground.
Antique white - quite profound.
Only today, I discovered similarities -
a mother’s and daughter’s peculiarities.
Turn around! Turn around!
In perpetual spin memories abound.
5/17/2023
Sponsor: Brian Strand
By virtue of its peculiarities
The gaze is at liberty through
chains of fragmentary images
The eternal light captures the attention
At sunset rise, with mystery of increase
Truth is mightier than the shroud of sin
Without confusion and uncertainty,
double-born in eternal love
The shadows of the earth in unprofitable strife
the silence reflects the sinful song
A living beauty all divine
twin tears of gratitude filled with the light of heaven