Best Plainest Poems
can you imagine yourself a young girl from Nighastan?
who is thirteen, and never stepped foot in regular school?
toiling day and night, taking care of siblings and housework,
her smile reminds of fresh-bloomed rose, no cameras capture.
can you imagine yourself a young boy from Labonga,
works in a factory for hours and hours since he was eight?
he is still respectful and humble, polite and thankful,
happy as a lark if sometimes he gets to fly a kite.
wish we were supremely gorgeous princes and princesses,
wearing sparkling gucci outfits, flying in private jets -
(talking how to support the poverty-stricken third world)
we watch their lavish weddings, their destination travels,
and secretly sigh for extravagant life we don't have!
met some of those amazingly courageous boys and girls,
who do not complain about their uneventful tough lives,
they accept their hardest journey with humble compliance -
thank god sincerely for their meager plainest possessions!
I imagine - if I had the power to change the world,
I would make their world blissful. surrounded by purest joy,
I would hold her dainty hand, and pore over fairy tales,
I would run without bounds in the open field with the boy.
those children would teach me to be grateful with simplest things,
and to smile joyful smile which nobody can ever snatch.
Poet's Notes: The poem is written on the model of Shakesperean sonnet (14 syllables in each line - exception being there are four Quatrains instead of three).
January 23, 2021
For "Can You Imagine" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Categories:
plainest, imagination, poverty, power,
Form:
Free verse
She was the plainest buzzard in the chicken coop.
Man, is she plain, the roosters used to say.
But one rooster gave her a chance. They shared a nest.
She had diamonds in her heart. He told people
But they did not believe, for those diamonds were
Reserved for him and theirs. They had a fine time too
Until the farmer ran out of food. The rooster thought of her fondly.
Wondering where she had gone, not realizing it was not her choice
To never share his nest again. The chicks knew, peeping the horror story
To every animal in the barnyard. None of them spoke peep though.
Categories:
plainest, 2nd grade, 3rd grade,
Form:
Personification
I look around me walking down the street
on warm May days, and flowers I can see.
So many lovelies – for my eyes a treat.
But they are not all in my memory
engrained, so how they look I can’t define
as well as flowers that I see each year -
like those that bloom right now, which are divine.
They are my roses, and for me so dear.
My teacup roses have a dark pink hue
while almost all my other roses are
dark red, but towering in plainest view
is one that has just bloomed – my super star -
the “Blue” whose color violet is rare.
I love to stand in front of her and stare!
May 20, 2021
For Brian Strand's All Yours (Jun 10) Poetry Contest
Categories:
plainest, flower,
Form:
Sonnet
Getting all dolled up, even the plainest moth can become a butterfly.
Looks are made alluring when body, nails and hair
Are given glints of gorgeousness! One becomes candy for the eye!
More flash than inner substance, it’s all external flair.
Only inner beauty requires no assistance from a glam squad entourage.
Ultra-chic yet likely vain are those concerned all the time with fanfare.
Riches can buy glitz, but it’s merely a mirage.
Categories:
plainest, beautiful,
Form:
Acrostic
What, No Butterflies?
Come walk with me in morning
When life is fresh and new,
When sunlight gilds the waking trees,
And grass brings forth the dew.
Accompany me at noontide
When the world is plainest seen,
And colors catch and hold the light
For ransom 'til the e'en.
Come and stroll in afternoon
When shadows stretch and creep,
And send the creatures of the day
Homeward for to sleep.
Be with me at eventide
When streetlamps flicker on,
When night and day walk hand in hand
And bells play evensong.
Come walk with me at midnight dark;
We'll brave the witching hour.
Together, we will not know fear,
Wrapt in love's sweet power.
03/Apr/2015
Categories:
plainest, beauty, butterfly, good morning,
Form:
Lyric
Revelation in its plainest form,
Glory revealed before the naked eyes;
To whom is this understanding granted?
Oh behold Him on the mount of holiness—
Oh behold the transfigured Christ!
A brightness beyond the sun's compare,
Yet visible to the eyes of the beloved;
Of them that are born of a woman,
None indeed is greater than John the Baptist;
But of a truth in the Kingdom of God,
The least of the heirs are greater than he!
Peter, always in a hurry to speak,
Thought it wise to build three thrones:
One each for the Lord, Moses, and Elijah;
If only he knew with Whom he stood—
That no one can ever be equal with Him!
The Light that shines the brightest,
The Tabernacle not made with hands;
Yet the humblest and loveliest of them all,
Who came to redeem a world of darkness.
Revelation in its most naked frame,
Redemption before the blindest eyes;
To whom is this understanding granted?
Oh behold the Saviour of the world...
On The Mount of Transfiguration.
Categories:
plainest, christian, jesus,
Form:
Free verse
I know if I could ever reach you,
i'd come to say I'd love to meet you...
In the days that lie beneath the open face,
in the simplest ways we live in our craze-
and the wildest braves...
They take up our maze,
and say to this-
to have no worries
or heartaches belonging,
no trendy tripping,
or grizzlies existing-
we may wonder aloud,
and take stake in each other,
even the faintest pictures of ourselves-
of the goal,
to bind with the sacred,
or even to just smile...
Because I know that if I could ever reach you,
I'd come to say I'd love to meet you...
In the plainest most original redemption song,
we'd never leave you behind as even a token-
printed with ancient words.
Categories:
plainest, allusion, anxiety, art, assonance,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I hold three magic rocks, in my hand
Rolling them over and over and over
Leaving this reality behind, far behind...
I know not where I'm headed to,
the sage's advice, my only clue :
"Enlightenment is now in your hands,
take much heed when you let it land..."
One magic rock was crimson blood,
turned fiery hot when it glowed--
I could not help but drop it,
the ground it struck was lit
The flames began to form images,
of war, of humanity enraged,
showed what happened when anger ruled,
when greed turned men to fools
The second rock was pearly white,
turned ice cold when its light died,
my hand stung, and so I let it fall,
rippling the lake, and I was enthralled...
Distorted images came to view,
of moralities askewed,
it chilled my soul to realize
this world has been desensitized
The last rock, alas was bleak and grey,
rough in my hands where it lay...
I wondered what other horrors it had in store,
so I knelt on my knees and prayed to the Lord...
I sought for forgiveness, for times gone astray,
asked for strength and courage, to find the way...
thanked Him for all the blessings I often neglect,
then ended with praises, and a genuflect
I unclasped my hands, the grey rock slipped below
it landed with a soft thud, then it started to glow
It showed me a place where three crosses stood,
then it was clear to me, I fully understood...
The plainest rock was the most precious one,
a silent witness on that fateful day
when the Son's blood was shed, so we can all be saved.
**The first three lines are not my own, but that of Constance La France's...
Categories:
plainest, faith, inspirationalmagic,
Form:
Narrative
When a precedent-busting pandemic is palling around the world
when its concomitant panic and pain freak out
it is your fine figures that are unflinchingly unfurled
e'en as proctective gears barely eke out.
Isolation wards owe you diligence and devotion
ICU hours witness your will and willingness in motion
solely concerned with failing lives' fate
you move heaven and earth against time
to wrest back the critical at Hade's gate
with your own forgotten at the sacrificial sublime.
Head o'er heels covered in colors cold
still you keep your hearts of gold
wherefrom bright hue beams
warm love streams
care and cordiality swathing afflicted lands
bundling up every bedside in blessing bands.
Sweat sieging forehead, you have smile snuggle both eyes
fatigue ravaging physique, you have patience station personalities.
Tandem consistency synchronizes and synthesizes
Hippocratic oath and your practice
kneading them into such an integrated tenacity
that the snaggiest terrestrial tmesis cannot tear apart;
Kindred fitness harmonizes and homogenizes
Asclepius' staff and your hands
melting them into such an uncanny continuum
that the sharpest celestial kenning cannot tell apart.
How many grand writers' purple passages paled
and painting masters' soaring strokes flattened
as eminent ebullience of ekphrases encounters self-effacing eclipsers
you are the plainest messengers, the hope and healing disseminators
you are most colorful illuminators, the virtue and vitality vivifiers
Supreme entelechy of esthetics meets pluperfect interpreters.
Categories:
plainest, eulogy, extended metaphor,
Form:
Verse
When colors pouring from the sky
Pretend, in passing, to be free
Of memories which want to tie
Me down, I smile and let them flee.
The faded paint of long ago
Was washed away by children’s hands
Before the blinding wind and snow
Had come in waves from foreign lands.
I asked my conscience in what way
I might avoid its plainest trails,
Yet it had not a thing to say
While cranes were voicing haunting wails.
I thus decided it was time
To leave my barren crib behind,
And walk along a straighter line
Until some restful place I’d find.
At last I came across a field
Where Spring had left behind a sign
That she would soon return to wield
Her right to turn my words to wine.
Since no one could besiege me there,
I sat in silence by a tree
And mustered all that I could bear
To set myself, like colors, free.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
Categories:
plainest, freedom, philosophy, psychological, solitude,
Form:
Rhyme
Dressed in rag with a face of stone,
A smile you would ignore,
Was all she thought she ever was,
Was all she ever saw,
But to me she dressed in sheets of velvet,
She sauntered through the air,
To me she was perfect every way,
Her smile, her eyes, her hair,
She even filled her words with magic,
They danced inside my mind,
Her voice gripped all I ever was,
Her voice had me resigned,
This woman I knew who didn’t know,
Who thought she was the plainest sight,
Still visits my dreams when I’m asleep,
Every single night.
Categories:
plainest, love,
Form:
Quatrain
Rejoice, the soul is alive
The sight of star-spangled skies if at night
Drench you deep with wonderment of a child,
And that of dark skies, with the same delight,
And if this unknown joy be no less wild;
If a blade of grass springing up in field,
And a bud blossoming into young flower,
Both move you no less still with untold power;
If age has none of your child’s wonder killed;
If nature’s plainest things pose a message
That lingers long in your memories piled,
If your child lives young still with passing age,
At no time are his wonders reconciled;
File up all reasons and stay ever naïve,
Divide your age by a factor of five,
Rejoice; your soul and child both are alive!
_______________________________________
In child-like eagerness this sonnet allows itself one extra line.
From my book Harvest of the Late Season,
published by Penguin (Partridge)
Sonnets | 15.12.14 |
Categories:
plainest, age, child, innocence,
Form:
Sonnet
A great wonder Kim’s legs still carried him.
A lot in Sam’s remarks still worried him:
The Sam who’d been watching Dolly and Kim
Right from the day Kim was trapped by The Slim!
Sam’s bold comment on his adjudged folly;
His saddling of self with the cries of Dolly…
“How could one fund release to a non wife:
On hard-to-catch dollars land wanton knife?”
Some sort of magic Kim isn’t trembling
Nor rapidly glimpsing a world crumbling.
God has his heart been gingering plus gin,
Although for three weeks now badly thin…
Men there are who could cope with bad news,
The plainest truth keeps treating like some ruse.
Categories:
plainest, crush, love, perspective, wisdom,
Form:
Rhyme
The flower and the bee are miracle signs.
To last forever when the spirit aligns.
The summer is abuzz with all of the fun.
A day to remember when love was outdone.
The most perfect design that holds the powers.
In the soft bosom found of gentle flowers.
Upon the summit of the holy mountain.
Flows our happiness from a godly fountain.
The masters of being steal the cosmic show.
Sending cool respite or brimstone and coal.
Redemption slips away fear fills the still air.
The crowd standing breathless with a frozen stare.
Then in the plainest sight the truth could be seen.
But in our dark vision we thought it a dream.
For life is not made fair it gives and it takes.
We chaulk up the sorrows and call it the breaks.
To find your destiny seek the promised land.
For all man's empires soon turn back to sand.
Standing there next to you the one that you seek.
The promise that you made was you wouldn't peek!
Categories:
plainest, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Fishing through any needy soul
For God's only purpose
We search for the goal
On Hideous bible planes we reach
And love and learn and
Cry and teach
We are far gone
In whiskey and gin
strangers long for
Sweet brandy and sin
But strong we love and
That love we hate,
Pulls us nearer to our
Ultimate fate.
Planet revolves
And our plainest desires
In pitiful wishes
And missing requires,
Dedication and plunder
At once and in sync
For the loss of a soul,
For the want of a drink
In mystical whisps
Our features do curdle
Like grapes on a vine
For some winter infertile.
Pictures of boys
In centuries dated
Clapping beats of high praise
To the tune ne'er created .
The spinning of years,
On calendars pasted
On years and of joys
On days smudged and wasted,
In seventeen years
We turn sixty nine
Clicking our throbbing
Heartbeats, molesting our crimes.
In our necks we slouch South
to find our straight spine
That we mortgaged for
Cocaine, marijuana and wine.
Be you Irish or English
Italian or Jew
Or Spanish, or Polish
Or mongrel or Shrew:
Neither time nor your will
Nor pleading or sob,
Can save you from payment
Of not completing your job.
Categories:
plainest, anxiety, character, death,
Form:
Rhyme