Best Play Poems
Write here, right now. Write now, right here!
Capture the moment while it's near
and seize the day. You now know how:
write now, right here; write here, right now.
The rhyme is tight. The time is right
to write some rhyme this time of night –
a rite of writing, lacking light.
The time is right, the rhyme is tight.
Another draft you craft in ink.
No lucre comes from thoughts you think;
though relatives may think you daft,
you craft in ink another draft.
All you can see you then can say.
At dawn, as dark dissolves to day,
with light, you write. In poetry,
you then can say all you can see.
The play’s the thing, you need to play
with words. Then, playfully they say
what makes the heart smile, cry, or sing;
you need to play, the play’s the thing.
Now play on words and let them dance
in rhymes and rhythms of romance;
teach them to sing like carefree birds
and let them dance. Now play on, words!
[swap quatrain]
written 18 July 2021
Well hopefully you've read the last "Poetry for Poets", now here's the one I wanted to write, enjoy...
POETRY FOR POETS
(I own this- edition)
Poems
more organic than fertilizer
rooted in the **** of life
manure
Some grow wild
seeking their light
through a gnarled thicket
of images
and symbolism.
Ill watered
or sprayed with chemical defoliants
they strangle themselves,
few
managing to blossom.
Manicured
Poems thoughtfully precisely planted
to achieve optimum yield
banquet
though occasionally
poems require to be forged
beaten into shape
like a horse shoe
with a few holes
accurately placed
ensuring they will be nailed
to their purpose
Pruned
dead words and metaphors
selectively snipped away
stunning display
There are times when it’s best to live with your poetry
Cover yourself with its words until they stretch and become sloppery
For its comfort increases as the stanzas begin to fray
Patched elbows illuminating what you intend to say
And eventually you’ll have a poem to slip into by the fire
To savour with hot chocolate as it ignites your desire
Poems
more organic than fertilizer
flourish when tendered
with love
If I could play the violin
I'd write a melody
euphonious to draw you in
and play my rhapsody
to bring a smile to your dear face
and calm the storm within
if I could play the violin
If I could play the saxophone
with timbre silvery
I'd paint a poem of pure tone
to laud your alchemy
for you turn iron into gold
and granite to gemstone
if I could play the saxophone
If I could coax an oboe's tone
a dulcet sound divine
to craft a raft for you to own -
a musical lifeline
when waves have knocked you off your course
when winter winds have blown
I'd play a soothing oboe tone
If I could sing a heaven-sent
anthem or hymn profound
I wouldn't need an instrument
when you feel nearly drowned
I'd whisper arias of hope
my mouthpiece, bow, and strings
are prayers for God to heal your wings
and soar beside as heaven sings.
Porcelain keys create
Passionate sonatas
Pitched in dulcet notes through
Prewritten preludes that
Piercingly vibrate when
Pianists softly press
Pedals to enhance tunes
socialism communism fascism despotism
buddhism catholicism hinduism zoroastrianism
territorialism colonialism imperialism expansionism
positivism relativism behaviorism existentialism
adventurism escapism negativism nihilism
puritanism fanaticism extremism terrorism
sexism chauvinism ultra-nationalism jingoism
hedonism epicureanism ~ stoicism asceticism
patriotism heroism altruism idealism
activism idealism individualism exceptionalism
atheism deism monotheism paganism
optimism pessimism cynicism romanticism
atheism secularism humanism utopianism
hypnotism mysticism exorcism surrealism
~ and what if there were a schism in each and every 'ism!'
Two scruffy pirates picked me up.
Intending to toss me overboard.
I weighed too much; they were struggling.
True.
They needed to lighten their load.
But I was not going easy.
I purposefully got heavier.
"She is flotsom," the tall fat one said.
"Jetsam," the dumb ugly one argued.
"Let's get a dictionary," I said. "Let's do this right."
This gave me a few more days,
as there were no books on this ship.
"Tease for Two"
“Ein bisschen Zucker
mit Ihrer Sahne, Sir?“
German accent
smoky toned
she purred
Periwinkles suavely winked,
then played with his -
cufflinks
“Not now Schvee Tart”
he said holding his attache tight
looking across the room
grinning Lupine Blues
a slight smile on his lips,
bemused,
“Service calls,
her name is
"Q”
Across the dance floor
all eyes turned
Parting tall bus boys, handsome waiters
matrons with their peach blinis, their tart apple martinis
flustered debutantes
all poetic unsure
first time daters
dilettantes
rubbed their -
eyes again, they blinked
made way, made room,
for Q's
sashaying soliloquy
serious multi tasking
sensual stiletto Hell-on-High Heels
slick Scarlet lip-glossed
VaVaVoom
As it should be
entertaining control,
further into the room
across the dazzling polished dance floor
no pastie tasselling girls
on well-oiled silver poles
The Special Agent
slinked
The Old Boys
raised their drinks
He stands
She sits
"Ist das eine Waffe
in deiner Tasche,
Special Agt Schmidt?"
She glances at her
Bulgari Serpenti Incantati
and in English says,
"This better be good,
Now is not the time to quit"
Like a wolf
Periwinkles
grins
"Q," he low growl says,
"I propose a change in destination,
I've taken the liberty to buy you
feathers for your wings -
tickets Q...."
then flirtatiously adds,
"Simply adore your bling"
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
1. lupine/wolf
2. lupine/lupinus, genus blue flowering plant
3. Libertango
Hidden away
between the broken chimes
of church bells
lies the dream of a man
the waltz of a butterfly
and love for one woman
He carves her name from a star
on a pebble~
burying it deep
where corals sleep
Across the moon
wishes concieve
from moist salt on his cheek
in the womb of an ocean
ocean so deep,ocean so dark
dark as the night in his soul
Hidden away
between the broken chimes
of church bells
lies the dream of a woman
the soft breeze of a petal
and love for one man
She paints his smile from a rainbow
holding it high ~
where sunsets splash
in the sky
Across the moon
wishes concieve
in the womb of a desert
desert so steep,desert so dry
dry as each crack on her lips
Hidden away
between the melidious chime
of church bells
lives the love of a man
lives the love of a woman
where oceans meet
where deserts greet
where stars collide
where dewdrops fall
Lashes caress
the dream in their eyes
Play Solitude...Sing...
“Something More”
Softly pastels spill
from lips where
crimson speaks the heart
time brushed its coarse
hands along the body
of my work
and like a voyeur
you watched
the romance of it all
never once
being touched
your eyes kissed
the bell curves
as they rose and fell
such dedication
to the symphonic
values of love
you rolled over me
words you
cupped and held
read like a hot wet heart
something
of me in you
of you in me
you heard and felt
the whispered secrets
of wanting,
something more;
I held you
captive
in my hands;
penned.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
“In my life
the piano sings
brings me words
that are not
the strength
of strings
Firey rain and rubies
cooling in the sun
Now I see
that my world
has only
just begun
Notes that roll
on winds
with swirling wings
brings me words
that are not
the strength of strings...”
He scooped and he packed
He rolled me good and round,
When all was done, I stood there
Only three feet off the ground
I had wondered why...
Why did this teenage boy,
Build me up this way
No bigger than a toy?
No bigger than his dog
In fact, we saw eye to eye,
I looked around for answers
And still I wondered why?
Then I came face to face
With an answer that was clear,
When the boy in the wheelchair
Slowly came rolling near
With his teenage brother
Lending him a helping hand,
He placed a smile upon my face
A smile so wide and grand
My eyes, two big buttons
From Grandma's sewing kit,
My scarf, one of their Dad's
Was striped and hand knit
From their Mom's kitchen came
My nose, a long gnarled carrot,
My arms, two maple limbs
From the family's tree I did inherit
My heart, warmed by the boy
The boy who could not walk,
His eyes laughed when he saw me
Though he could not even talk
No prouder stood a snowman
That towered, oh so tall,
Than me, the littlest snowman
The proudest one of all.
Play rain , play melancholic tunes
Play closely to my ear, I need to hear
I want to listen to Sinatra's toe-tap sounds
As you fall, fall slowly to the ground
outside my great-grandmother's house.
Play rain, Come down and break the silence
Bring puddles to the desert
Puddles far from clear, yet fresh enough
to jump into, to jump in muddy waters
to step within the dormant child
to free the one I'm not from who I am
Play rain, play melancholic tunes
Wash away my present ,So I recall my past
Let me find night's music
as you patter on the old tin roof
like a symphonic flute.
Let me search for who I am , who I was
why, and where
Why do I fight this little girl inside ?
This little girl who screams , who begs,
who yearns to run, to get her white shirt soaking wet
to splish and to splash , to be whom She's meant to be
Daughter of the wild.
Rain , rain, come again
Let those drip drops stream , over my shoulders
All way down my back, and across my thighs.
Let me sail upon your rivers
Holy waters - Dirty Waters
Any water, better than a dry land
where only cactus will survive.
Rain, rain, Let me feel your touch upon my lips
Rub gently against my skin
Let me taste your every trickle
Rebirth in me with all the blowing winds
Cleanse all sweet hypocratic lies, anytime
Tease me with your whisper
Evoke in me the childhood magic
Make it last throughout the years
Rain, rain, pour down your sky light showers
Let them hide away my fears
Fears, tears, Fears...and more tears.
Rain, rain , play and make me smile.
Inspired by Nikko's blog about Rain , Thanks Nikko !
YOUR BETTER END
To be
To stare
To contemplate
To risk
To dare
Once and again
To trust
To leap
A Jump of faith
To fall
To land
No one can say
To forgive
To forget
Or try again
To breathe
To love
Feel whole and place
The fears
The doubts
To rest and then
To grow
To become
Your better end
***
January 20, 2017
Dedicated to Lorie Jean, Though She'll Never Know
Asleep, I cannot escape my love’s depth for you.
Awake, I cannot deny my loathing towards you.
Confusion and missing settle-stay in my pain’s cliché.
Thoughts of you weigh down my moments every day.
Long is the time I have spilled grief yet failed its release,
but dreams weave my joy strung to net grief’s relief.
Asleep, I see us blend as we did easily back then.
As before, we pool play, float happily and swim.
In sunshine, we decide our age will be just ten
as laughter splashes our feel with child-like appeal.
In dreams, we cook, play cards, take road trips,
critique movies, compete to title older song hits.
Our laughter soars until you ‘ink’, and then we
laugh more, stopping only when laugh sore.
Secrets from one’s lips merit the other’s ears
to heart-hear and hold all told in love-lined folds.
My feet twitch as I dream-walk to your home
and street-met you dream-walking to my own.
In dreams I see all I reality-miss; your face,
voice, moods, humor and unique attitudes.
I live our togetherness, our special groove,
in cherished dream scenes of us as still a two.
As soon as I first wake, reality steals my happy,
smashes the contentment dreams grant me
while missing aches swirl colors of lonely.
I ponder whether while in your own slumber,
you also dream plunder from our past splendor
for assistance with your friend-grief ender.
Mist in the distance, heart quickens to gooseflesh
Whisky Jacks perch silent, they've seen me before
Brother Wolf has been by, his scat is still fresh
Ancient eyes follow me, née jinn shapes of lore
Small clearing before me, my own private crèche
Hidden falls dance and play, their ions restore
Spray glitters like diamonds, the Sun leads the band
As time disappears, my soul breathes a free land
I want conversations
with writers and poets
The wise the wacky
the dark and the stoic
I need to drink your words
I fear my disease is chronic
The name of my affliction
I think it’s wordaholic
Writers and poets
Dig down to the deep
Some are more honest
Others have secrets to keep
Some can herd cats
or people like sheep
If you tell a good story
I’ll sacrifice my sleep
The complicated mind
Within phrases revealed
Multilayered thinking
Special nuggets concealed
Tongues sharp and precise
master poets do wield
If used like a surgeon
The recipient is healed
So talk to me wordsmiths
all of you clever poets
The wise the wacky
The dark and the stoic
I want to drink your words
Yes my disease is chronic
The name of my affliction
I think it’s wordaholic!