Best Pled Poems
Enraptured by blue Sea, Sun chose a place
above Sea, on a cliff. To touch her face,
Sun then sank low; final radiance fell,
a lover's fingers on her mighty swell,
with passion's touch her cobalt blue to trace.
A last caress. . . and then with quickened pace
arrived dark night with sable and black lace
to softly drape the one he loves so well. . .
enraptured by the sea.
A man went to that cliff and pled for grace,
for he had come with heart ache to erase.
The sea, grown icy cold, still cast her spell.
He knew that only she all pain could quell.
Like Sun did too, he fell to her embrace
enraptured by the sea
April 21, 2022
Submitted June 12, 2022 for
Mark Toney's 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 1 Poetry Contest
On the eve of All Saints Day known as Halloween
We've a night where nothing is ever as it seems
Abraham, Martin and John hosted a grand ball
In heaven’s huge castle, a white marble town hall
Dancing and singing just like every other day
One old soul grew weary of celebrating this way
She found nothing special in the harps and trumpets
A more exciting venue she had come to covet
St. Peter partied, his gate was unattended
So to a room below the bored soul descended
A place where heavy metal was all the rave
Deadheads converged to stomp violently on graves
She was tempted to join in their revelry
As demons eyed her with curious envy
One grabbed her halo, howled when it burned his hands
Others confronted her with obscene demands
Only then did she recall escaping this place
When God sacrificed his son, mortal sin to erase
Although hands of the wicked tried to hold her down
She struggled, pushed forward and made her way uptown
Fearfully she cried while knocking on heaven’s gate
St. Peter found her in this emotional state:
“Why didn’t you learn to resist temptation,
During your tenuous Earthly incarnation?”
At a loss for an answer, she pled for mercy
And Peter felt inclined to deem her unworthy
But the Master heard her prayers, granted a reprieve
He blessed her and uttered, “Welcome home again, Eve.”
Her departure from Eden seemed so long ago
And now most certainly one thing she did know
She should have stuck with Adam when he first said, “No”
Instead of bobbing for apples with the demons below
* For Tony Brooks' “Halloween Hustle” contest
FALLING FROM THE HEIGHTS
Who knew the road would fill with gravel’s pain?
My feet, sore bare, beneath the calloused peat.
The sun beat hard, no friend the serpent’s bane.
Fate’s sweat does drip, with chains, the dark complete.
The street does twist and wretch, the cliffs enormous.
The vertiginous heights of panic feeze.
Unpaid regret, ill storm felt ginormous.
Unholiness does creep upon my knees.
Good pleasure pled, my youth to harken please,
whilst time did serve the stench of gargoyled feet.
And greening eyes would steal the gold, and seize
the king’s pure daughter, then his regal seat.
The plummet ferocious does tear my skin.
The dirgelike wind does moan and fleece my sin.
3/8/2018
bane - woe, curse, destruction
feeze - a state of alarm or excitement
Oh, mild flower I chanced to meet,
A ruby red, yet so discreet.
She'd never seen a hue my blue.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.
Her fragrance wafted on the breeze,
And all were drawn to her with ease.
I put down roots near her and grew.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.
Though in her garden all seems well,
there still are things she hates to tell.
Her thorns, a shield, conceal what's true.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.
Beneath her thorns, resentment grows.
Disturb her and her petals close!
I learned too well what could ensue. . .
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.
A casual remark was said.
Her ruby rose turned scarlet red. . .
I guiltless pled. Did I misdo?
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.
A fury she had kept so deep
had been unleashed; it made me weep.
Retaliation cut me through.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.
A leaf of peace she offered me:
Be friends, but only partially.
But I refused and shall eschew
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.
An empty throne – Part 1 of 9
For this of castled velvet throne
A queen does weep a single tear
Bleak shadows of this night have grown
To cast upon her heart this fear
Reflection polished marble floor
Her silhouette of humbled reach
Now shutters via nightmare’s pour
Alone of bridges fought to breach
Beyond the window valleys sleep
Soft candle flame in slumbered night
Flickering her pain felt deep
Burning through in cautioned light
An empty throne aside her heart
Its warmth now chilled of worried feel
That day her love he did depart
Read messages to long conceal
Her single kiss of cherished due
A farewell bid, pled safe return
Lost amidst this sorrowed view
And loneliness again did burn
As if the dawn had been his shield
In misty haze on moor’s harsh breath
Of forest frame it had concealed
A moment quick of arrow’s death
She takes this single tear she’s cried
Into a glass of poison clear
This droplet or her love applied
Her broken heart to wish him near
And brings this potion to her lips
Such bitter taste slow going down
A whispered thought in swallowed sips
To then remove her saddened crown
Upon his throne of gold now rests
She breathes one final moment pure
Her eyes now close of wishful quest
To be with her sweet king once more
I am going to post this 9 part poetic series one at a time, 3 parts per day. (That way we can get it over with in 3 days) : ) I hope you enjoy this.
I heard the chimes at twelve o'clock
Ring in a brand new year;
And beyond the noise of all the news
I listened hard to hear.
A chorus of lamentation
Ringing loud and singing clear
From many angels winging
Through the vault of heaven.
They sang of shame and sorrow
Of suffering and sin;
They sang of hope for tomorrow
That peace be found and guided in.
I knew of the many trials
That former years had cost;
And all the dreams and pleasures
That were wasted and lost.
With awe I heard the music
That came to me there;
The voices all came pealing
Through the stillness everywhere.
"Take away the shame and sorrow
Take the suffering and sin
So that a new tomorrow
May find peace be guided in".
Then I offered up a prayer
With heartfelt words I pled
For a miracle for the living
And forgiveness for the dead.
Then the echoes of the music
Softly whispered as songs were sung
They came with phantom voices
From the joyful angel's tongue
Take away the grief and sorrow
Of suffering and sin;
And in that new tomorrow
Let peace be found within.
Blood of Christ did seep from every pore
as in Gethsemane he knelt to pray.
Who can know the suffering He bore?
He struggled; to His Father he did implore.
With crimson drops He all our sins did pay.
Blood of Christ did seep from every pore.
Can any have endured this labor more?
He agonized, and on his face dew lay.
Who can know the suffering He bore?
He wept and pled for man both rich and poor
while friends slept on, and one would soon betray
the blood of Christ, which seeped from every pore.
Even when His flesh with nails they tore,
'twas night when schemes of Satan he would slay.
No one knows the suffering He bore.
And we must not his martyrdrom ignore,
nor be as Pharisees with feet of clay.
Blood of Christ did seep from every pore.
Who can ever know the suffering He bore.
July 10, 2020
for Brian Strand's Strand Completely New (8)Any Theme Any Form Poetry Contest
Elytte and Miranda Barbour murdered a man just to get a thrill.
It is always very stupid and senseless when people kill.
They said they killed him because they wanted to kill someone together.
If you're wondering when they'll get out of prison, the answer is never.
They pled guilty to Second Degree Murder and other charges and got life.
Elytte will never be able to kill another person and neither will his wife.
When Troy LaFerrara answered the Barbours Craigslist ad, he didn't know he was in danger.
While in court, LaFerrara's loved ones were very furious and they expressed their anger.
The Barbours are only 22 and 19, they're young enough to be my kids.
If they were my children, I wouldn't forgive them for what they did.
(This is a true story about Elytte and Miranda Barbour who murdered Troy LaFerrara.)
Never felt obliged
To ask the soil for her thoughts
Before I planted my seeds
Watered and weeded and fertilized
With hands guided by my heart
Not only do I doubt
If she would have given consent
I honestly don’t know
If she would have welcomed
My yearning soul into her home
Of warm, brown earth
Softened by sun and rain
Breathing only precious beads
Of dewdrop dreams
And autumn leaves decaying
Into the depths of her tenderness
Never once did I feel the need
To ask this loam for permission
To plant the flowers and vegetables
The fruits and scrumptious herbs
Which gave me so much sweetness
To feed my palette and vista
I wonder what she would have said
If I’d only asked, possibly pled
For the chance to plant a seed or two
Give into the soil’s longing for compost
To nourish her and give her sustenance
Cuisine made up of manure and muck
Meant to provide her with nutrients
Food to enliven, enlighten and brighten
Her dreams of good things so she’d thrive
Still, I remained silent in my guilt
Stealing her dirt with my shrubs
Never giving her the opportunity to say
If she was ok with my cultivating
Plowing and growing in her reservoir
Of soft, warm soil meant for a nursery
A garden of hopes and dreams and ideas
Gentle lights fading into the shadows
Behind the oaks and pines, where I grew
Truths that remembered to pray
For the sunshine and the rain
The food that would sustain
My stolen garden, grown without consent
From the heart of the earth’s glorious gifts
She pleaded to me with a blushed body,
ready readily for the holiday my maintinance could muster for her pink engine,
the electricity my overtime bedtime love ryhme induces, innerbody outerbody attention,
my woman pled and I fed, her skin smelled like sweet leather, expensive and exotic,
her taste, oh her taste,
a salt infused with inimitable vanilla extract of erotica,
shes my virgin tonight, shes my soul purpose, my handicraft her sole investment,
my rough hands ceaselessly surveying the surface of her vulnerable and vital being,
no flaws are found, because no flaws are sought, no resistense, nothing fought,
upright together, gripping her nape, kissing the pulse on throat,
flaxen hair swiming across my focused face, one arm around lower curve of back,
in unison the slots inbetween my thumb and index sweep upon her breast
cleverly turning & tightning into nipples elevated for enclosing excitment,
eyelashes grazing my cheek and her moist mouth on earlobe
elicit the need for perpendicular laying, for ramming motion ritual,
I unfold her, with fingers lovingly clasped on that nimble neck of hers
as I insert and glide with a job to do, a love to pursue,
the words came latter, instinct inspired now -
J.A.B.
For Miranda Lambert’s “Inspired” contest
By Carolyn Devonshire
I wanted to write for this contest;
But my muse was staging a protest.
“Take me to the sea,” it pled,
“In this house, I languish, dead;
Put me in touch with nature, a forest.”
“Don’t stare at a screen, confined by walls;
Locked inside, my inspiration falls.
Surely there’s a babbling brook
Or a valley’s overlook.
Give me something to work with,” muse calls.
“If you fail to respond, I’ll attack
As you’re sleeping in a room black.
Thoughts you will never recall
Cannot upon your page fall;
Without me you’re nothing but a hack!”
Darling,
Forty seven years ago, young and in love.
We fell in love on the Bobo-lo Boat.
A mutual acquaintance arranged our date.
I was eighteen and you were twenty.
You took my breath away as our eyes met,
And I must say Dear, you still do today.
Way too young to marry our parents pled mercifully.
We insisted, married, and then you went away.
The Vietnam War parted us physically,
But our love letters tied our hearts-
Tears, warm feelings in waiting hearts.
Many decades have past since our first date.
Love was worth fighting for, being brave for.
We've been through the good and the ugly.
We've learned, and built, and grew together.
I believe our true love conquered it all.
I adore seeing old people still in love-
Smiling, holding hands, and talking,
Opening a door for his sweet girl,
A gentle touch and a kiss on her crepe cheek,
Then I remember we're the old people, my dear.
Our hearts still tied together with love,
Even after all these years.
Forever Always my darling.
For Heather Ober's contest, 'Love Letters'
And For Gail Doyle's contest, 'Reflections Of You'
Another poet has pled their case
a cry screamed out for all
Sticks and stones in outer space
will float and never fall
Why are your poems read? Mine are not
could this just be in jest
I’ve no degree; I am self-taught
but I always give my best
Hear me now, I do declare
please help me have more fun
More comments please, it’s just not fair
I think my mind has come undone
I'm out of pills, my muse is shot
all common sense is gone
Please love my rhymes, forget me not
or I will not last until dawn
My wrapper loose day after day
My motion and emotion unstable
I forget to think
But I wasn’t drunk
I remember in a trance
Stable I was
My wrapper tight on my torso
Not divulging the firm breasts
I remember vividly when it began to loose
Days turned nights
The sun withheld its radiance
I mourned unending
Breasts tumor I had
Oh! The pain hurts
One more ill has befallen me
A spinster at 50
Severally dumped I was
By men on trial
The life I live was wreaked
My heart fell apart
Picking up the fossils
Amidst courage and optimism
Dreadful incidence I traversed
Since my birth, early 60’s
Aargh! I’m bigoted
But utmost myopic
I wasn’t sleeping
Merely a spinster’s vision
When at 52
Men on trial returned
I had miscarriages
Pains were inflicted
53, I would be
The wrapper has slipped off
Revealing the sagging breasts
My legacy is gone
I’ve missed my menses
I’ve wept all day
I pled against miscarriage
But all hope is not lost
Because I’m pregnant!
OMEBE RITA
Anything but bread
I bumped into a man named Fred
And listened to each word he said
A story I was soon to dread
For all he talked about was bread
In detail he spoke every slice
Some made of wheat and some of rice
There’s cinnamon and sugar spice
And sourdough he mentioned twice
Banana nut he found so sweet
The perfect early morning treat
With coffee as you take a seat
To bake it though, a major feat
He chronicled each rim of crust
A lighter tan or darker rust
Or sprinkled with a pepper dust
I guess somehow he thought he must
When then he changed and featured toast
I think it’s what he liked the most
I can’t believe how he could boast
He’d tell his tale from coast to coast
I told him I was running late
I had a very special date
A meeting and it couldn’t wait
I headed out beyond the gate
I started walking down the trail
He didn’t stop, I heard him wail
“Be careful of the loaves on sale,
you’ll usually find that they are stale”
Into a café I then fled
And thought about that man named Fred
When asked to order, this I pled
“Just bring me anything but bread”
Inspired by Maureen McGreavy’s Baker’s Dozen poetry contest
That’ll teach me to read the rules first. : )