Best Plenty Poems
We grasp shadows flow over magenta light
in the crystal trails of tourmaline
yes, both of us will leave.
to the celestial abeyance of pasty white
neon embers in starburst trim
for now, I'll stoop and write.
Let's have a nap beneath the towering redwoods
we'll watch "forgets" fly with natural hammering
together, let's find out how to solve the mystery
lyrical hues in lustrous iridescence.
We just shrug our shoulders and cheerfully
understand our linked introspection
here, in the peaks, where the sun shines
let's soar with the creative spirit of life.
Blew away the flushed, blushing bliss
on her whispering wings
white fog rolls out onto the calm ocean
which gathers the incoming stillness
a phosphorescent steeple is adorned.
Strolling the fog-covered hills, gazing at the bay
let us sip moonbeams from the blazing lighthouse
sunlight swirled exotic zaffre mist in a ritzy haze
enjoying the warmth and the water shimmer
resting comfortably in a lovely night-line
Damselflies rose to the lush sky's eerie sighs
A hazy veil curves across huge terrains.
sunlight sparkles on the winding river
comfortable, long-drifting
to the whispering rouge
of a nuptial serenade
only time matters.
"There is time," she whispers
There will be plenty of time
Written: December 28, 2022
A Freed Verse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
I still haven't found my Miss Right;
the girl with the cat was a fright:
she farted all day
and stank of decay,
then played with her pussy all night...
for the Baggage contest
I gotta whole lot of emptiness,
a vacuum full of void
With no more heart problems around,
I’m not beset
by any sadness or regret
To tell you the truth,
I’ve got plenty of nothing left
There’s only an empty chest
of bittersweet memories ... less bad than good
Could things have worked out better?
I’m sure they could
But, I love feeling light as a feather,
blowing a kiss goodbye to all my troubles
I have a big balloon full of emptiness,
floating up, up and away
A vacuum filled with no more distrust,
zero gravity are my heart problems
Getting jettisoned into the void
is the best personal space burial
I’ve got plenty of nothing left,
no more bottled up heart problems
kept hidden high on a shelf
I gotta hand full of emptiness,
enough to grab plenty of nothing that’s left
Only wanna let go of my hurt exhale;
open my empty heart and breathe in,
then fill up my heart with love again
There’s no more heartache left,
simply need to exhale and take the next breath
No more stress from wondering what’s next
I’ve got plenty of nothing left
Now ready to dive into the pool of love again,
so full of anticipation
... no more wet dreams of emptiness
Ready to take the plunge even deeper —
How long can I hold my breath?
Tomorrow is another day, a fresh start.
You manipulated your way and stole my heart!
I try to focus on self, but I'm seriously failing.
You took my emotional wealth, and now my mind is sailing.
Drifting along, needing an answer as to "why?"
You would rewrite my song, look me in the eye and lie!
Tomorrow is another day, a new beginning.
I kneel and pray for all this sinning.
You dragged me down to the lowest point in my life.
Take off that crown you're no longer my wife.
I will carry on and refuse to look back.
I'd rather be alone, I'm serious as a heart attack!
Hearts don't break they just tend to bend.
I took all I could take now I'm gone with the wind!!!!
03/10
Pour the oil..Feed the fire, war with Iran..And drain-stream outlet criers.'
A few ticks to midnight, and all is well.!
We absorb the horror, yet can't really
Tell.' Screen-shots file drops fury and
Shells.' Missiles and the droning.' Media
Artificial..All seens pell-mell.' The dead bodies are
Creations of those hellish narrations.' And
More living are in transit, to the place where Iran
Sits ' no rational motive, these soldiers are
Votive.' An offering to baal.' Well we can't
Prove theres a 'cab-al' its just all maybe? haphazard, Time and tide shows in the
Mirror that got shattered.' I ask it not be
Splattered with blood pending.' I think it matters.? Lives in exchange.' For freedom?
Yet I am 'poet non grata' as the machine
Of vilolence needs them' G I''s marines and
Sailors, i'lll fortune holds no favours.'
Which hero is the bravest.? Only Jesus truly saves us.' All this paloply of power is
But a backdrop to the minutes and hours.'
To the murder of the silent ones,
entombed
In life.' Not allowed to run, to see the world
In all its gory.. That is maintained by much false history. Sacrifices on the altar of lies..
The emancipation of women..'
Or maybe now? They are guys.?
In echoes of more affluence.'
Oh and get ready to pour some
Wine.' On the sands of the
beach-heads just ( this one time! )
as was the jingle in
1914..Now mostly forgotten, though it
was
Also so ob-scene.'
Yet tell me of noble aims and?
Well causes so just.' While we line up for
whatever..' For truly; only, in God can we trust '
I need Him every morning, as the day dawns.
He silences the shadows, restores my peace within.
I need Him when I awake, just like the apostle John –
Without Him, I am lost, not knowing how or when!
I need Him when I’m silent and also when I seek.
He encourages me to listen, and to be His voice.
I need Him when I fear, when I can’t hear or speak.
He causes me to reach out in prayer and always rejoice!
I need Him every night, when I lay down my head.
He assures me that I’m safe and His promises are real.
I need Him to know my name, my heart, everything unsaid.
He reminds me to pray in absolute faith when I kneel!
I need Him when I’m filled with doubt and when I believe.
He knows the best that I can be and the worst He also sees.
I need Him to reach down with love that will never deceive.
Without His touch when I pray, I’d never rise from my knees!
I need Him every time my heart feels like it is going to break.
He can see the depths of my soul, where my tears are falling.
I need Him and His amazing grace when I tremble and shake.
He destroys the darkness with His love that is always calling!
I need Him when I’m more alone than I have ever been.
He quiets desolate tears and reassures me that I’m His child.
I need Him to erase the shame that reminds me of my sin.
He lights the way for me to say, on my heart He has smiled!
I need Him when the burdens are few and when they are many.
He restores my soul when I feel like I can’t make it through.
I need Him to know I love Him so and His love is a love of plenty.
He is the maker of my soul and I’m so thankful His love is true!
Clearly debriefed;
what if escalation.
Exhalation; don’t
relax. Remember
the facts. Living
dead flow on empty roads.
Remember the broad
streets of the mall,
where the dead lurk
and maul. Empty,
the shelves, two days
after malice of ice,
near and far. Skate
to the center, fall in;
what were you after?
Remember vegetables
don’t grow on shelves;
they arrive on big wheels.
One starts to question,
“where does good and plenty
come from?” A wholesale
disaster could be payday.
The living dead make their beds
under the fluorescent lights;
buzzing on open shelves.
There is plenty of room
for doom. I had to leave
the room. Breathing too loud.
Left with clothes on my back,
a card, a heart attack.
Grateful for provisions,
for meat in my freezer,
rice in my pantry,
cream of mushroom,
fried okra, lights,
water and electricity.
Electricity in Publix
unnecessary. Feet
moving, squeaky carts;
I’m darting out the doors.
Should I warn those
coming in. Should I
even look at them…
Plenty of room in « Le Foot »* for Soccer
For Doug Vinson at PoetrySoup.com
I
Not long ago King Pelé
Set “le foot” in America
Today his peoples’ muted “Olé”!
Rue the day at Maracana
Now from coast to conniving coast
Your Can-Can gals kick “le balon”*
No Wall in between the goal-posts
To win at summit many a “galon”*
Alright! Keep your cherished football
Iced-hoc-key bounced balls in basket
But let echo corked-leather on “saule”*
Crikey! "le cri-cri"* of “le cricket”
II
Tremble at the hakka-cry of the All Blacks
Cringe before Aussie toughs at Springbok élan
And let them romp with the Six-Nation packs
Over your greens with fifteen Argentinian
Call out to the run-machine Little Master*
And let his blade flash home-runs tout azimut
Over heads of fielders spectators and trainer
And let your millions throb and catapult
Your new knights sans armour in world arena
And gasp at fresh records topple centuries*
On pitch and turf in Tests across suburbia
And join the world in friendly rivalries.
*"Le Foot"or "Le Fut": French for football/soccer.
*"le balon": French for ball.
*"le(s) galon(s)": French for "stripes" as in "to win one's stripes in battle" (gagné ses galons au combat) .
*"le saule": French for the willow tree. "Willow" is metonymy for the cricket bat as the latter is made from the tree.
*"le cri-cri": familiar French for "le grillon", the insect cricket.
*"Little Master", sobriquet of Sachin Tendulkar, the retired legendary Indian test-cricketer, the counterpart of the Brazilian Pelé in soccer. See my poem: "The Little Master: Sachin Tendulkar", my most-read ever poem.
*"centuries": batting records in cricket run into a few centuries, mostly in five-day international test-matches.
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
This Valentine's Day I shall send
To my boyfriend so not to offend.
Even though I am fond,
If he does not respond,
No worries. He's got a best friend.
Documentary on The War *
More and more and more!
America the Great.
Nam to Watergate,
With plenty more in store.
Don't know if I'm pessimistic
or just a shade realistic.
Politicians lie.
Easy sales. We buy!
Perhaps a bit simplistic.
It was "way back then."
Sam took it on the chin.
I'll watch it all.
I did my call,
But I wouldn't do it again
*18 hour (!!!) television series about the Vietnam War currently showing on PBS
Africa, land of plenty, and riches, Copper, gold, uranium and salt
But the heart of Africa, is its people
Traveling far over caravan routes
Across the plains and heat stricken desert
Camels carrying tremendous loads
Just to find that Oasis in the sky
Snow-capped mount of Kilimanjaro
A wonderful sight, a splendour of splendours
Where summer months, and winters are completely dry
The Equator? Rain falls all year round
Africa continues to grow
New towns arise from the dusty ground
Along with their cultures and languages
And learning how to live for just another day
Tiny huts and youngsters hard at work
Breaking their hearts for us to look and buy
Banging on metal or working with clay
Craftsmen wanting to work for the day
Just to earn enough for their family to eat, not play
Traditional dance, part of everyday life, Festivals, religious celebrations and rites
Africa, land of plenty
Living in a world of plenty,
There are millions without any
Of the things that life demands.
It's something I can't understand.
The only reason I can see
For this gross inequity,
Is the touch of Satan's hand,
On the heart of selfish man,
Breeding avarice and greed,
Robbing those in mortal need
Leaving destitute the many,
Starving in this world of plenty.
The Keystone Kops Return
By Elton Camp
Wildly incompetent they may be
But only in silent films did we see
Their antics were humorous enough
In reality we can’t have that stuff
With the Keystone Kops on alert
The president’s too easy to hurt
A known criminal has been spied
With him taking an elevator ride
Into the White House, lickety-split
The Keystone Kops just had a fit
The invader rushed right on by
To shoot they didn’t even try
“We caught him right inside the door”
But we learn that they’ve lied before
Bullets hit the windows, splat
Four days to learn about that
“Secret Service” is a descriptive name
Who wouldn’t keep secret such shame!
Allusion vague? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8jphxpi1ro
Plenty poor
To make it I
Need to be
Sure
Guns don't kill people,
PEOPLE kill people.
So they say.
I don't think one man could kill
59 people and wound 400+ (estimated)
if he didn't have guns.
Lot's of them.
And plenty of ammunition.
Is it perhaps time for a meaningful dialogue about
gun control?
Or do you prefer your neighborhood gunman to control
large caches of weaponry
and utilize excellent control of such
in the blatant execution of your fellow humans?
What possible use does a civilian have for
weapons which can destroy that much life so quickly and efficiently?
Hunting laws don't allow hunters to massacre a herd of elk anymore. Or buffalo. Or ducks.
I am an ex-hunter (voluntarily retired), an ex-soldier (honorably discharged) and I own a gun.
I once belonged to the NRA (three years max). I grew tired of the rhetoric. I grew tired of the daily barrage of solicitations for more money. I grew tired of hearing that more guns in the hands of the populace was the answer to violence. I grew tired of a very powerful lobbyist organization manipulating people and politicians to perpetuate violence in this country.
I don't have an answer to the problem, but I don't think the answer is "more guns."
If you have an answer, please reply in the comments.
~john