Best Personal Poems
oh. dear. gawd.
another patently
meaningless
crush of stanzas, jam-packed with
adjectives and color words
straight from Roget's,
strung together in
strands of misuse and
improper context -
syntax-scraping adverbs and
prepositions dangled
at inhuman angles,
rushing in torrents to a
head-scratching conclusion that
leaves lips numb and dripping clear liquid,
fingers combing deep the
strands to tear out in horrid disbelief,
jaws left agape in
utter confusion and
hopelessness ...
it all settles like
brick-heavy clay in
the gut, that this vile destruction of
the English language and
its artistic forms -
this uneducated and
brutal bludgeoning of phraseology -
words replaced
willy-nilly by thesaurus-crazed maniacs,
(all for the sake of
impressing the masses
who don't know the difference),
is garnering dozens of
enthralled ignorance-is-bliss
comments, and placing
first in
contest-after-contest!!
how could any sane,
serious weaver of words
NOT want to blow
their freaking brains out?!?
the coronavirus pandemic
has been NOTHING
compared to the sickening
misuse of words
that flows on-and-on from public
poetry sites in crushing
waves of feigned
eloquence and verbal vivisection ...
could it be, perhaps,
that the circle writing ISN'T inane,
but rather a strangled striving
for the breadth of
non-linear orthography??
welcome to the
ultimate zero sum game -
the mangy monkey in the monkey
puzzle tree,
Schroedinger's kitty,
skinned and nailed to the barn house ...
fan-freaking-tastic ...
let's kill this clairvoyant clown,
quickly ... quietly ...
cuz ...
it. never. ends.
(lack of proper punctuation and capitalization very intentional)
Personal Memories - Three Generations
Three generations in between them now so kindly lie;
sweet great granddaughter and great grand-papa can now belie
those years. She reads to him, and he so tenderly sits by...
two children now, they share these moments that now clarify
the bond of one on one where young and old does not apply.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Personal Memories-Monorhyme Poetry
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Iambic Heptameter - 14 syllables and 7 feet per line
Judged: 03/30/2016
Used Photo #3 - Laura Loo's daughter Ella reading to her great grand-papa
Mugsy and Milo
Meet Mugsy, the pug with mostly tan hair
and Milo, a Chin. With nary a care,
they each chew a bone. They seem a sweet pair.
Cousins are they, and a fun life they share.
To break those two up, you better not dare!
Written March 23, 2016
Based on Picture #1 in the Contest of Laura Loo
save me for I have sinned
I have shot a man for nothing
I wish I could rescind
I've committed grand larceny
to pay rent and countless bills
I've stolen many dreams
For a void that must be filled.
I've been sworn to secrecy
to leave my past dim.
Shed no light to anyone,
I don't want to meet the reaper grim!!
So I made myself a witness
All in my saviors name
To clean my soul, play his role
This void now personal fame
Jared Pickett
5/28/2006
Asavvy1
How grateful I am
Having been created to be always
In the heart of Jesus;
He poured out through me,
His unconditional love
To my family, friends
Students and to everyone.
Career is my precious gift,
It's the greatest fulfillment.
From Him, I had received;
In this way, I can serve Him
As long as I live,
To mold the young minds
For world's future sake.
I will always be a committed mentor,
With lots of patience, love
And bunches of care;
Share all my knowledge and skills
To the best I can,
Leading my students
To God in prayer.
As eldest in the family,
I'll also take enough responsibility,
To help my parents and brothers
In any way,
Serving them to the fullest,
While still young and unmarried.
I'll go on in life's struggle,
If there are barriers,
I will not give up whatever matters.
Give my love even until it hurts,
Ti's life's essence in this world,
To love and serve, I truly believe
Is my mission on earth.
I love you too much
To let anything bad happen to you
I love you too much
To see you do bad things
I love you too much
To do nothing
I wont sit and do nothing
I will stop you
Even if I have to hurt you to save you
I wont sit and do nothing
It’s nothing personal
I just love you too much
Eric (and sometimes not)
The brain is an incredibly efficient computer
Compressing trillions of bytes of information,
Registering every impression we encounter,
Analyzing concepts from formation to causation.
Compressing trillions of bytes of information
In milliseconds without hesitation, unrelentingly,
Analyzing concepts from formation to causation
Remarkably, it even functions unconsciously.
In milliseconds without hesitation, unrelentingly,
It processes the continual intake of our senses
Remarkably, it even functions unconsciously,
Outlining proposals, formulating our defenses.
It processes the continual intake of our senses,
All while regulating our involuntary responses
Outlines our proposals, formulates our defenses
Even evaluating the most complicated nuances.
All while regulating our involuntary responses
Registering every impression we encounter,
Even evaluating the most complicated nuances
The brain is an incredibly efficient computer.
Written May 9, 2022
Under The Cover.
.
You can never ever
Tell a book by it’s cover
As I was later to discover
The Lady in the Nursing home
The old man across the way
All have a story to tell
Hidden away
.
Some people I’ve known for years
Have suddenly touched my heart
And left me in tears
When they reviled their past
And nightmares and fears
.
Like my own dear Father
Shot and wounded
A prisoner of war
With only a tiny piece of bread to eat
And nothing more
.
The sweet old Lady I talked to
In Worksop in a store
Who told me she was the last surviving victim
Of Dachau in the war
.
The old man down our street
A nicer man you could ever meet
A rear Lancaster tail gunner
Or the hardship of a devoted Mother
Her husband left her for another
Someone who lost their family
And had no other
.
Those who suffered in the blitz
Those who lost a loved one
Aboard a ship
Never found always missed
The nurse who gave her all and put others
Before herself
To help the sick
.
The Pals sent to die in another far off land
The luckier who returned
Minus a leg or no hand
The coal miner unground
Who kept the home fires burning
The Steelworkers who gave their all
To keep England’s wheel turning
.
The bomb disposal and mine clearer's
The lifeguard on the bay
The emergency services and law enforcers
Who put their life in danger for us every day
.
The one who gives
But doesn’t seek recognition or reward
The one who fights for justice and war to cease
And silently prays for peace
.
A million stories left untold
Of unsung heroes young and old
No one should judge anyone
Like a book by their cover
For we all have a story
And who knows what we might discover.
.
Peter Dome©2020.
in the desolate
solitary hours
when fear trickles down my spine
time is my jailor
closing me behind its doors
isolating my heartbeats
distant from yours
drips following a storm
ping a pattern of rubies
upon my flesh
heat carved runes
tell of lovers set aside
long ago
riddles on the wind
answers unfound
my present twists
into a knotted conflagration
higher
hotter than before
voices from the past rise
and resonate:
‘your heart-pain
bleeds from your words
that love is the umbrella
under which these wounds fester
is that much worse
untangle your heart-threads
from their prison bars
the landscape of your life
must evolve
immerse yourself
and know freedom’
my quest begins now
Coffin lungs unhinge a chest open bare,
fragile skin ripping thin as bat membrane-
flutter in waves of vapor, from the heart that beats itself,
exhuming an illusive space...
defined by all that never was.
The only promise left unbroken,
held against all petty wills,
is the nothingness that eclipses the tangible-
contoured by chaos, it stands tall and futile,
leaving no shade for the shelter of lost dreams.
And so let the old void fill the new,
where Only Hope's clumsy shadow filters in,
and Fear blows every breath of whim,
Asphyxiating in this open cage,
for too long I chose to stay and wait
for empty promises to take,
and take,
and take.
When I was young.....
My personal beauty was of great concern to me,
Now that I am older, wiser and mature..........
My personal beauty beauty is of even greater concern.
Now if I shoot at you with live ammo that's personal,
Words just don't hack it, most thoughts too bizarre
To attribute to anything short of dementia,
With colors that dribble, fake tears! Spayed guitar!
Sounds so high strung with guts, from such different cats,
Tones all bounce off life’s rails more like temper’s distemper.
What cue ball can't sink are your colors to choose,
But consider largesse to be caveat emptor.
The precision you see here's designed to confuse you,
For order is something most men can't abide,
But the devil take foremost, ‘who’s first,’ most deserving
A cinch that there's nothing to trump – more than pride!
Long Tooth
June 2nd in 2019
after doors close after hours when scarlet neon flickers out red-light nights fill voids of need my body is a ripped flower my throat tingles to the burn of vodka-fire gleaning the gleaming water-washed street for an answer to the latest outstanding bill sadly grateful for the slightest footfall twenty for oral forty for full car park dark steam-heavy dark not streetwalking but streetstaggering in hollow-pod hell anaemic-ashy and vodka-fumy amorphous shadows loitering on durex-dotted waste ground in secret alleys back to dank brick or deep throating down on my knees skirt around thighs fingers come-pearled and slick come quick after doors close after hours when scarlet neon flickers out cold glitter of streetlights gleam of cold hard cash cold kisses colder touch no eye contact look away the cold nothingness that we say
Listing A Personal View Of What Poetry Is
1. Poetry is a stone,turned to expose to searching winds once hidden earth.
Robert J. Lindley
2. Poetry is art, mind painted, heart colored and fire risen.
Robert J. Lindley
3. Poetry is a fruit, hanging on a bountiful tree, begging to fall.
Robert J. Lindley
4. Poetry is an ever expanding ocean, begging ever more creatures to swim in its swirling depths.
Robert J. Lindley
5. Poetry is cake on a golden platter, eaten with fork, spoon, butter knife or greedy hands.
Robert J. Lindley
6. Poetry is cherry blossoms, crying for the soft, cool winds to wave their beauty to the awaiting sun and the gasping skies.
Robert J. Lindley
7. Poetry is glistening dewdrops falling upon virgin ground to gift dawn's hope and night's desire to match brilliance of falling moonbeams.
Robert J. Lindley
8. Poetry is man's heart and soul uniting to bless others, while temporarily shielding searching souls against this dark world's poison tipped arrows.
Robert J. Lindley
9. Poetry is brightly sent musical notes that heart sees, mind colors and spirit longs to record.
Robert J. Lindley
10. Poetry is ink blotted, soul driven splashes that cry to be read, beg to be understood and unabashedly sings to give to its readers.
Robert J. Lindley
11.Poetry is a colorful bird, in heavenly flight to a paradise that awaits man's sincere pleading heart and desirous spirit.
Robert J. Lindley
12. Poetry is a child happily playing, a mother joyfully singing and a father blessed to have and so very dearly appreciate loving both.
Robert J. Lindley
Robert J. Lindley, 7-17-2018
Subject, ( What Poetry Is)
Note- This was inspired by reading, The Name Forsakes Me's blog this morn.
Which lists 50 famous quotes on what poetry is.
Hurricanes Up Close And Personal
As of this writing, Florence is intensifying and threatening the shores of the Carolinas. She is dangerous, even in her early stages and may pattern herself after Katrina or Irma. Should she do so, the candles, oil lamps, flashlights, matches, and other essential items will be in great demand. Do your shopping early lest you be caught unawares. Evacuate if directed and do not adopt the attitude that you will be okay if you stay. Drowning men grasp at straws, but drown nevertheless. How long can you stay afloat? Don't be like the man who refused help from others by saying "God will take care of me". He ignored the boat who stopped by, and a helicopter that hovered above him and he perished in the storm. When he reached the Pearly Gate, he queried God as to why He failed to spare him. God's answer was, "you missed the boat", "and the helicopter I sent". So, I ask the question again --- "How long can you stay afloat?"
8 September 2018
For the contest sponsored by Sara Kendrick
Picture No. 4