Best Points Poems
Sailing on an ocean breeze
In the vast depths of my mind
Like a sailor on the open seas
With a world of wonders to find
Perusing points to ponder
Through the night unto the morn
On a global scale I'll wander
Till an epiphany is born
Said the Chipmunk to the Hawk
Said scared, little, tail-striped chipmunk to red-tailed hawk,
“I am hidden over there where you will not find me.”
Said hawk in a swoop to another branch, “Jiggle that
tail again, so I’ll dive and sweep you off to heaven!”
Crouching as flat to the earth as she could be, chip-
munk said, “But I am already there where all points
of heaven reveal bliss...” which did perplex red-tail hawk,
who gawked up, then scanned all around for
some clue of heaven in this forest he knew he knew,
as she provoked, “You see?” But with his instincts
darting everywhere, hawk replied, “You lie! You
make riddles of my threat!” To which she flashed to
the opening of her tunnel, quick as light, calling,
“Heaven does contrive for good in life!” Hawk
affirmed a new place of some prey and turned.
Was he not made to hunt? Not for dramas like this?
Hawk bent over his feet, lifted his wings into flight
aimed at rustling leaves not far away. Hawk, while in
his flash, asked his forest, “Heaven, does it spread
as far as over there where I go?” Forest said, “No know,
no.” Hawk did not understand...In her tunnel, chip-
munk dropped two acorns from her cheeks to eat.
————————————————————————————————————
(c) sally Young eslinger 2/2021
** Devotion Poem, VANTAGE POINTS **
(For Jim. #17 in Devotion Poem Series)
“I’m not a romantic,”
you announced at the very beginning
With a side-flick of your hand
As if you might then stand
To exit…taking along your trail
Of cool colors — the blues and greens —
Too unwilling for any startling
By my sun yellows, tangerine oranges
Or my bleeding reds,
To disturb your eyes.
But committed to staying, you added,
“I’ve never been able to wink either,”
demonstrating that disability as if
To say, “At you, I would if I could.”
Hypotheses and proofs, have
always linked
In your engineer’s character,
While crayons and ongoing arrows
spread out through mine,
Which, like our colors,
I thought were complimentary,
But now it appears you
might have thought
were just me being childish
And not about any inspired creativity,
from the other side of the brain, so
Alien to the light-green violets
On your side of the color wheel:
Where the palette of intelligence
has formulae —
Not unpredictable outbursts
Or random integers of emotion.
Once, you held me like the first
Glimpsing of a winking Venus
in the dusk
Presenting to all
Her prelude of heaven’s lights
To continue on through the night…
But now, paddling deep in
an ocean of years,
I fear that you find me
Like a flicking bedside candle
Meddling in your wish to sleep…
While some galaxies
in my cosmos
Have darkened
With my own self-depreciation
and decline
So like
Those stars
and dreams that have gone aging.
But inside,
My sun’s risings and settings
Still glow blessed
With vibrant, surging color…
Wishing to be held by
your morning’s horizon-blue eyes.
———————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 3/22
Thanks be to God
Alas! Truth Points To Man's Deep Hate
This dangerous world's love for war
with its evil and far flung stones
has done far too much to atone.
Fear now rules, man has gone too far!
Peace and paradise now mere dreams
with airy soiled beds there unkept
lives herded into dying streams.
Some seeing, with sad tears have wept!
Who shall arise to this world save
for such looming and massive clouds
predict too many early graves.
Earth filled with radiation shrouds!
Alas! Truth points to man's deep hate
future days wrapped in hell's hot breath
we repent, else find that dark fate
Will our legacy be such death!
This dangerous world's love for war
with its evil and far flung stones
has done far too much to atone.
Fear now rules, man has gone too far!
Robert J. Lindley, 7-04-2017
NOTE- Written for Carol Duet's Facebook initiative,
"Poetry of Peace".
I feel loved at points in my life
Sometimes I don't at all
I can be pushed around and yelled at daily
In the end, I always fall
I have never understood love
Or what it really meant
All I know is that love hurts
And that, I can't repent
I listen to my orders
I stand up straight and tall
Wishing someone would hear me
Knowing that I'm crying in the hall
Some days I just brush it off
Letting it all go
Being who I would like to be
But hiding in it all
I'm alone in my mind
But I know inside
I'm dying before your eyes
When you hurt someone
and care to apologize,
When you vow to shun
and redeem your lies.
When you look
beyond your creed
and help those
who are in need,
In the midst of your troubles
When you hold your faith stable,
Of heaven and hell
I cannot censure or exalt
Neither validate nor fault
But you’ll live your life
free of stress and strife.
When it becomes easy
to give than receive,
When it becomes easy
to assist than deceive,
When it becomes easy
to lend than borrow,
You live your life
free of pain and sorrow.
It behooves us to live for today
to trust in God come what may.
~"Be Didactic" contest by John Anderson
We’re lucky to have a math-whiz kid
And one day this is what he did.
He said we all know about going number two
Now I’ve sorted out the decimals too.
First, there’s the basic, number two
Which chiefly, is going to the loo
Yet there should be a, two-point-one
Which is not flushing when you’re done
Or how about a, two-point-two
That’s when the bowl needs a cleaning, when through
He blushed when citing, two-point-three
Which is when the seat is damp with wee
And nobody forgets old, two-point-four
Which is when you’re scared to open the door.
Our son doesn’t like, two-point-five a lot
As when it takes much longer than you thought
Personally I’m a, two-point-six hater
Which is when you can’t find more toilet paper
My wife says, two-point-seven is worse
As in going again-like you need to rehearse?!
And, two-point-eight is never a breeze
As in squatting amongst the trees.
But the clincher of all is, two-point-nine
Which below is briefly defined
That’s when after flushing
The water keeps gushing
And it never stops
When it reaches the top
Which is bad when alone
But you’re not in your home
And your feet are now wet
Coz there’s no plunger to get
So you search for some towels
But there’s pain in your bowels
You then splash on the floor
Then someone’s at the door
He asks, “What’s the matter?”
As you clutch your bladder
So you call out to the guy
“In a minute”, you lie
As you turn off the water
You then need one more squatter
So you go one more time
But can’t flush down the slime
So out the window you climb
As quietly as a mime
Coz you can’t face this crime
And disperse covered in grime.
Our son hoped we enjoyed the overview
Of the finer points that follow, going number two.
Poem is from 2013
Looking at the view from the window,
I watch the cars as they pass on buy
The street lamps give a distant glow
Now brightening the darkened sky
Looking at the view from the outside
It has a whole different perspective
Especially if looking from the inside
Things they seem like their reflected
Looking at a view but way out of focus
I ask myself what it is I'm now seeing
Making up my own style of barnacles
But though looks they can be deceiving
A view from a completely different angle
Now that changes the whole dynamics
Different shapes, a square or a triangle
But I don't know much about physics
Iideas from others I wrote like sights and sounds
Idea came from seasons and ghost town poems I wrote
probably makes no sense but like I said in my dys of colour poem
the way my thoughts are made WRITTEN BY MYSELF DAVIDSCOTT FEB MARCH 2013
wishing round in my head while think of other things at time maybe reedit in future
im still working on something else called rems
Natural starting -Point
The subject of a poem is the idea or thing that the poem concerning or represents
I review about 15 poem this morning.. and the feeling I got from them, the writer attitude
toward the subject matter.
As a reviewer I cannot praise all the poems that I review. however, I can only encourage them to thrive ... some had a bit or irony , the tone were playful and some of them were some serious submits
Poetry Soup is a wonderful site...
let encourage each other to aim higher..
one love annie L
With your hands held up limply;
As if consumed by a fear;
You claim your provisions;
So few can come near
But I hear only echoes;
Designed and construed.
Like as growth from a hot house;
Not flower or food.
But this meat and potatoes;
With butter and bread
And these rhyme’s Betty Crocker;
Will it stay in your head?
This venue you’re serving’
Lacks an herb or a spice;
And until you are sorry;
You only suffice.
Maybe we can put the thing to rest
with nary an amount of protest:
I dare say politics at its best
is but a popularity contest.
Rule 1, always be in the top news
and if attacked do not be nervous;
remember that what it takes to win
is a boundless talent to spin.
Lie if you must, it’s perfectly okay,
you can't last unless you're a phony,
say you are a savior or something,
sky’s the limit in politicking.
Inexperienced? not a big problem!
hire a tested media-savvy team;
don’t worry about grasp on issues,
just flip-flop to have a wider view.
So what if you have no character?
you know it does not really matter;
what is required is to talk nonstop
to rocket all the way to the top.
Politics is no more than showbiz -
TV interviews, talk shows and glitz;
wait! charisma will do wonders too
like it did for that monkey at the zoo.
POINTS OF VIEW
Took kids for fresh air to zoo and laughed - are we or they behind bars?
Monkeys studying a parade of human specimens for their amusement:
Point of view was a novelty for kids -
Their cage locks were welded tight.
Stone walls and iron bars do a prison make
If our minds are the rigid stone and bars.
Can monkeys fly? Do fish walk?
Perhaps, I said. The kids laughed and then took photos
Everyone laughed and denied their own photo - That’s not me!
Of course it’s not. A two-dimension static image of a three-dimension dynamic person.
The camera makes monkeys out of us.
Cameras always lie...as a quoted scripture exerpt mayseem toprove anything.
You can’t expect to understand a stream from a single stone pebble;
You’ve got to see the whole flow and ebb for a truer picture.
Let go of expectations. Expect nothing. But always hope for everything.
We stopped at the ice-cream vendor.
An optimistic realist expects nothing and is never disappointed -
Expect nothing. Not even the unexpected.
Your mind full of stones will always bar progress of spirit.
Be empty of preconceived notions. New viewpoints are essential.
With no fresh air, no winged ideas, no wind of change, comes
Mildewed destruction of your spirit’s health. Poison to your system.
Be the deep-flowing fresh stream, washing limitless pebbles :
And if you get out of your depth, kids, then
Don’t fail to come crying to me.
...............................................................................................................
Written 1 July 2013 for Debbie Guzzi’s contest REFERENTIAL
Exerpts used are from CLOSER by Chris Aechtner
“caged snapshots of mildewed expectations,....on wings of letting go..”
The kind of person I wanna be
Is perhaps something most want just as well
And what I want is to be free
Yet... what is it that I still felt held?
There are so many things from which I'm freed from
Yet bounded I'm only to feel even more so
Is it really death I seek for life to begone?
Can the fiery passions of death beat the lifeless nights of cold?
To have money buying things you don't need
The poor don't always suffer for what they do not have
To be penniless wanting the things you seek
The rich don't always prosper with what was left
At the lowest key point in your life
Shall determine who you really are
As of the highest key point you survive
You would have forgotten, you have come too far
Upon many a point in life I wanna live
A many key points I only remember to wanna be free
My this one point of life I yet live to believe
Is the kind of person I wanna be...
Figure like Orion’s belt
An extended arm to the left
Points the way to her heart
To the source of the force field
Hair in a drag like a comet
Her direction anticlockwise like an orbit
Gaining speed the closer she gets to my heart
Traversing space faster than a lightning bolt
Moving light years from left to right
The sentinel to my darkest nights
She’s made of nothing but dark matter
Heaven sent like a sealed love letter
Understanding beyond age and maturity
Both feet firmly grounded in victory
Unshaken she’s the centre of me
Unmoved by prophecy a powerful deity
Her being shining from head to toe
Bearing more than just a simmering glow
Pointing from the centre of the cosmos
In all directions forever as photons
All these connections like points on a compass
constant awareness like breath on my lips
knowing that you are still out there and wondering
if you still are pining for things that you miss
Have you gone traveling to the pinpoint of green
in seas which welcomed your skin in a dip
and have you peeled open the rind of the moon
to hold to your lips to reflectively sip?
Have you brought marble to inlay your stairs
and have you played chess with your two other halves?
Have you enjoyed every roll of liqueur
in an alcohol burn? Why, I'll bet that you have.
Somehow, I'd know if you breathed your last breath.
Somehow, you'd send me a palatable sign.
One that I'd wrap around tooth picks with tassels
and dip with decision in myrrh berry wine.
Somehow, you'd know if I sent you a letter
sealed up in wax made of salty old tears
scented in strawberry cream, filled with stickers
chosen, collected through turbulent years.
We hold the secrets and scents of enigmas
right on the small of our backs in our sleep
Striking awareness like points on a compass
all in the layers of dreaming to keep.