Best Precipitated Poems
Tropical quadra plateau, Amazing bright sunny,
Glided waterfall Carrying happiness in their gunny.
Long nodding flower's joyously plumed,
Everbody waving happily, the herald bloomed.
Eureka, I love this heaven on earth!
Hazy perished hills, houses trenching at the outskirts,
Swaning over to the fluctuating peak of mountains, roosted with struts.
Orchid waftured, Clinging on to the cluster of flowers,
Precipitated rain was about to shower.
Gosh, it Stimulated my soul!
King of beast, sucking the sweet tempting fragranced juices,
Solitary alienate species including Honey bees mused badly abuses.
Fluttered wings, Struggling with them, Leisurely travelling my journey.
Fitnessed physically as if I am in an defensing army.
Situation turned to be horribly muddle,
Tremendously, I wanted to sort and excitedly cuddle!
Proud to have an Airfoiled wings of mine,
Antennate feature you prissily shine.
Rainbowis passion lying inside me,
Resourcefully mingled with music and dance, happening besides me.
Whoa,People got entranced!
People jeopardize the innate beauty,
Relishingly wanna do my duty.
Actuating my arms, Ventured to fly high.
Intended inspiration wanted to reach the sky.
Weaving the web spiderman thirstily trying me to catch.
Escaping from them I ran, prevented myself from getting snatched.
Ohhh,They had a Hostile faction accord!
Nature's beauty aspiringly propelled me.
Blowing wind, tactily sensisizing my skin,
Blushing cheeks, spilled the bean.
Nocturnal creatures will wake in the dark,
Aerophilically dangling around the shruby bed,before they bark
Stopping by sayonara, continuing my next stigmatic destiny!
By Madhavi
Categories:
precipitated, addiction, adventure, analogy, best
Form:
Crown of Sonnets
Radio free State of Deseret 3 July 2118, 6 PM Salt Lake Time
International news first.
27 Zionist terrorists leaders were beheaded in the Caliphat of Palestine yesterday after their failed attempt to establish a third state of Israel in Jerusalem during Rhamadan.
One of the last two remaining members of the European Union, France, decided to secede after the other remaining member, Germany, forcibly annexed neighboring Austria after a surprise attack last night. Experts think the attack on Austria was to gain thousands of hectares of undepleted uncontaminated topsoil, and to find a place to deport all the refugees Germany has taken in from the Kurdistan-Turkey-Syria conflict.
After six months of street fighting, Anglo-Canadian forces finally captured the last of the Quebec Libre forces in Montreal. Surviving members of the Libre forces offered only token resistance, as most were near starvation from the blockades.
Several promising oil fields have been identified in the Amazon River Valley of Brazil. Indigent natives had already left the area after the last of the rain forests had been plowed-under to grow sugar crops to make ethanol for fuel.
Venezuela and the Latino Free State of Texas are competing for contracts to drill.
Regional news.
Tomorrow marks what would have been the 342nd anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence of the former United States of America. It also marks the 42nd anniversary of the simultaneous nuclear attack by North Korea and Iran on 7 major coastal cities of the USA during America's tricentennial celebrations, which precipitated the schisms in North America today.
The Deseret Volunteer Guard and Air Force successfully defended the kingdom against a new wave of attacks by gangs, pirates, and sexual deviants that tried to infiltrate via Las Vegas into what used to be Zion National Park.
The Prophet's Safety Council wants to remind all faithful member-citizens to avoid exposure to direct sunlight, to always carry your portable water decontamination kits and air filter masks with you, and to compost all plant materials and use your compost in your sheltered Victory Greenhouses.
Keep the Faith. Radio free State of Deseret signing off.
In One Hundred Years poetry contest
3 June 2018.
Categories:
precipitated, allegory, america, anniversary, cancer,
Form:
Free verse
Conflicts have raged upon the disputed soils of earth since before men began to record them. But there have been other conflicts less recorded, less lauded, but more redoubtable, oh, so much more. These were no less bloody than those who drained the life from promising generations, but they were more certain in their calculated rage, and arguably precipitated those lesser skirmishes. For they did not inhabit those regions of memorialized ground, but were carried within by those who fell there, and were carried away by those who lived to tell. For these were those conflicts within men of which none other could compare. In ferocity they were rivaled by none, and of that blood which flowed, unnumbered hearts proved an endless wellspring to slake the thirst of a thousand earths. And so, from the lacerated soul pours a bitter bile, a perpetual disquiet. This is the madness within every walking corpse, the insanity shadowing every potential good. Such is a sadness beyond all tears ever shed. It is the mutant upheaval within every son of man. Bowels of a deep and groaning lament, seething within and without; the fetid breath of a million rages. It is the conflict within... G.R.L.
Categories:
precipitated, life, , memorial,
Form:
Free verse
Painful self actualization
quickly brights to light
paltry reasons (with or
without rhyme) a desolate sight
within blinkered mindseye hindsight
grotesque grimace shocks with affright
desolate landscape
precipitated when airtight
vacuum sealed sequestered,
muckraked, furloughed...
which past existence now doth bite
back with a vengeance more agonizing
than any imaginable plight
feeble effort thru poetry
to portray psychological bombsight
cathartic, emetic, pathetic... ejection
minus (all gore rhythm)
red tattered torn flesh ala bullfight,
vigil held under
deathly hallowed candlelight
lack of living will trumped right
against autopsy, eh
scant material worth any copyright
deceased did request mourners
to revel in daylight
of life (l'chaim) delight
within simple pleasures downright
unfettered, yet respectful
of self and others fight
for peace with strong lanced arms,
yet...shy away from fistfight
while standing firm
on righteous ground,
versus passively taking flight
modestly acknowledge accomplishments,
sans reflection initial birthed floodlight
ideally rejoice asper positive contribution
within webbed, wide world despite
shortcomings vis a vis height
insight, might,... dismissing as trite
customary, healthy, quality traits
sustaining virtuous yeast
leavening kindled hindsight
carried into darkness of afterlife
soul asylum void of oblivion
analogous to eternal midnight,
where surviving kin begat,
viz biological millwright,
which sunny daughters
became darling lasses overnight
I ask do not weep, nor mourn,
neither heap exaggerated flattery, quite
upon the head of
this beastly boyish sight,
whose dying wish
expansive though slight
points to stopping for persons white
red, brown, black...since one's birth
until...final seconds usher
mortal into twilight!
Categories:
precipitated, dark, desire, memorial, my
Form:
Metrical Tale
~esoteric~
The story is retold with great relish
Its the great chief who precipitated
The great war by his love endeavors
Its the great chief who led us to war
The great chief loved the royal princess
Sister to Mariaka making her pregnant
Shamed for conceiving out of wedlock
She committed the abominable suicide
Mariaka was now to ascend the throne
After her beloved sister had departed
She asked for gifts from the great chief
Which great chief you delayed in bringing
Mariaka was angry at you great chief
Saddened by the loss of her elder sister
She took the advice of the malicious elders
In the war she aided the imperialist enemy
Troops of warriors from Mariaka's tribe
Aided the colonizers in fighting our people
Our own in-laws fighting us to great losses
Loss of life and the sanity of our people
Great chief you were unable make peace
And the war raged fierce in the slopes
Be my force once again.. never shall be
For great chief this time round you did it
Categories:
precipitated, africa, myth, mythology, society,
Form:
Narrative
The Poetry Machine
The phrase is deus ex machina
But I seem like such a pariah
There's sabot for every machine
I feel like a closet queen.
Incognito or incognita
It really doesn't mattah.
Hopped up on so much amphetamine
That I'm tempted to be mean.
An alma mater with no alumna
Would not have pleased my grandmamma
The culture of the Pleistocene
Gave rise to the evil Augustine.
He had the morals of a Shah or a Pasha
That he precipitated a coup d'état
Being such a Philistine
He was the libertine-est of the libertine.
In modern terms he's so bourgeois
He allowed no femina in his Utopia
He was the essence of the obscene
He had the mentality of a drag-queen.
I quite identify with his aura
I must be a member of his diaspora.
So let me hasten to come clean
I beseech and implore your forgiveness
I pray for your mercy.
I solicit your sanction
For my disposition to demean.
g Tiberius
Categories:
precipitated, devotion,
Form:
Light Verse
The Poetry Machine
The phrase is deus ex machina
But I seem like such a pariah
There's sabot for every machine
I feel like a closet queen.
Incognito or incognita
It really doesn't mattah.
Hopped up on so much amphetamine
That I'm tempted to be mean.
An alma mater with no alumna
Would not have pleased my grandmamma
The culture of the Pleistocene
Gave rise to the evil Augustine.
He had the morals of a Shah or a Pasha
That he precipitated a coup d'état
Being such a Philistine
He was the libertine-est of the libertine.
In modern terms he's so bourgeois
He allowed no femina in his Utopia
He was the essence of the obscene
He had the mentality of a drag-queen.
I quite identify with his aura
I must be a member of his diaspora.
So let me hasten to come clean
I beseech and implore your forgiveness
I pray for your mercy.
I solicit your sanction
For my disposition to demean.
g Tiberius
Categories:
precipitated, poetry,
Form:
Blank verse
Stands a beautiful tree firmly with its gracious branches and boughs
On a bank of a running or on an edge of round pond
May be it is on the skirt of triangular lake
Natural or artificial
Or it is in the middle of an esplanade
It can grow anywhere,
In the moon or in your orchard
The place where it will grow is none of your business
Just see its beauty and show thankfulness
Feel its usefulness and express gratitude
But here it is not my job to describe the charms of a tree
Neither is it to make you understand how to appreciate delicacy or loveliness
As other poets delightfully do in their handsome and alluring drabs
That duty I left gladly long before for idiots
As I got another work of other kinds
Another responsibility, another task of other types
To split the beans and peel the skins
To smooth the bones and puncture the balloon
Wherever I find stupidity, nonsense and bloody foolishness
In the middle of telling you these serious issues
I see a spectacle of a donkey
Near the valley among the green leaves
In their words, in between their lips
At the tip of their tongues, at depth of your throats
And below in the meadow in the bushes of shrubs and grasses
A circus is run by the jokers and baboons
The promoters and the patrons of the parade try hard
To catch my precipitated attention and perpetuated concentration
Baffled I remain and look at the sky before taking a sigh
I decided not to give favourable response as wise men know
This is neither my kind of monkey nor is this my kind of show.
Categories:
precipitated, giggle, stress,
Form:
Free verse
I’m back from the aborted time
Where mother earth’s womb foiled me an innocent prime
A crime precipitated with tears of revenge on my carefree mondaine,
Again I’ve come, ushered by thunderstorms and hurricanes
Descending with spleen of capitulating rage from above
Where I had seek castrated-justice from people who know not love,
My angered tears are tattooed. Henceforth, ye’d find my sweets bitter.
Imperiled and mutilated on surgeon’s blade, my spirit groans and quiver, while hers glitters
Her joy of motherhood quakes with the sound of my blub at the doomy sands
When sweats of sorrows and heavy downpour ferries me to the midlands;
Oh my arrival, she’d be filled with a painful smile, a tragedy of happiness!
She’d wish she never pulled that plug out of coyness.
Again, heaven dims its light as one of its kind depart
Downwards. I’m the earth child, the wailing nipper with no heart!
My own version of 'Abiku' written by J. P. Clark
Categories:
precipitated, angst, me,
Form:
Sonnet
Contrary to the forlorn attitude,
Thrive for the bliss of solitude,
The vulnerable gets incapacitated,
Keep spark of optimism inside alive !
Helpless gets sturdy, will not mentally die,
Heaps of benevolence, keeps living a lie,
Struggles till the woes get precipitated,
Spark of hope always burns alive !
Languishing tribulations seem incumbent,
A muscular man declared impotent,
Munificent heart asthenic and debilitated,
Spark of hope still stays alive !
Miseries are vaporous, only if comprehend,
Toreador if be, will turn vilipend,
Embrace potvaliancy, rather remain paralysed,
Must keep spark of hope alive !
Written on 1/5/14
Sponsor- Cyndi and Tim
Theme- helpless
Now for contest- ur fav poem u hv ever written
Sponsor- Carol Eastman
My fav coz it's reality based, true feelings of helplessness of the one concerned
and mine .
Now for contest- Vibrant verse 2
Sponsor- Charlotte Puddifoot
Categories:
precipitated, heartbroken, hope,
Form:
Kyrielle
I just want the have-not;
I want null in zero-sum.
I want the empty right down to the bone,
All things hallowed undone.
Sweet thing,
You and I are still so young.
My whole life
You were the one I waited for;
You simply pass by.
I won’t wait here anymore
In the storm outside your open door.
I gave up on love
When love wrung me out and rocked me shut.
I gave up on feelings and dreams,
And juvenile things.
The lover and poet and martyr in me.
Darling, I was half asleep.
But when you walked in that first day,
Soft-spoken,
Immaculate,
Unmatchable,
You were unlike anything
I could ever dream.
Everything else dropped dead;
Everything precipitated
Into a forgotten periphery.
I knew you because you were a part of me;
The piece you’ll never get to see.
Please, just
Don’t speak.
I won’t say much when we must meet;
I won’t let my hand catch yours from beneath,
Or brush the length of your dress,
Pressing against your crossed leg,
Half-way met
In the open door you left.
And we’ll talk until
We’ve talked enough.
(It’s been so long since I was touched.)
I'll be gone to somewhere else next year,
A new life.
You will still be here;
You’ll leave in your own time.
One day you'll be a wife.
I swear, innocent temptress,
I might have made you mine.
Categories:
precipitated, beauty, desire, heartbroken, i
Form:
Rhyme
This revolutionary fella followed by
Adams family patriarch,giving rise
twin heir (plain lee gifted "Renaissance
Man") Jeff force'n without hemming
and hawing, subsequently conceding
nexus (nor horse drawn Lexus) of Colonial
power to Madison, thence Monroe
buttoned up as suitable candidate after
which younger Adams elected.
Thirty four followed Jackson's club
trumpeting (some Obama nib bully)
bushwhacking their way predicated
on faulty Algorithm, charming
charismatically with hint of Clint
like glint in eyes, blinding populace,
sans ray gun (Reagan), Car Tour ring
with peanut gallery in tow, affording
(unpopularly pardoning unfashionably),
a Jerry rigged nixed son, followed
by John's son tainted by stain of Vietnam,
but with said Southeast Asian debacle,
one ken heady (sporting thick styled hair)
inherited an internecine conflict, essentially
precipitated, when Eisenhower hardened
political stance against any allies of the
Soviet Union, (sans The Viet Cong), and
pledged his firm support to Diem
and South Vietnam.
Now with preceding administration, one
harried true man unleashed advent of atomic
spectra upon Hiroshima, and Nagasaki, this
purported preemptive measure scary ruse
felt to thwart exaggerated Japanese government
threat (military intelligence) scheming to
wreak untold havoc upon American troops
within the Pacific theater of World War II.
The former horrific decision controversial,
then and to this day Hoover expert historian,
diverge, asper corroborating the necessity
to usher in the Cold War, yet majority foreign
policy wonks might grudgingly attest that
said thirty first commander in chief did maintain
a Cool Edge throughout onset when doomsday
clock began countdown to Armageddon,
an unimaginably blaring, deafening, earsplitting...
cacophony distant rumbles heard, nonetheless,
no Hard dinning ghoulish nightmare (potentially
obliterating all life on planet Earth) haunted
Wilson, nor Taft, only gunboat diplomacy
mere child's play exhorted, less catastrophic
comparison, when Teddy Roosevelt wielded
"big stick schtick" namesake corollary to the
Monroe Doctrine in 1904...ad nauseum.
Categories:
precipitated, age, birthday, character, courage,
Form:
Free verse
I found a photograph today.
Its discovery agitated my emotions
and I caught my breath.
There you were - suspended -
like some ancient fly held
eternally in amber.
Pose, expression, frozen - always.
I found a photograph today.
It awoke a memory long forgotten:
It was a hot sultry day.
We had travelled to our arrival
and we argued, our tempers
shortened by the blistering heat.
My neat linen skirt had creased
- like my mood - and you were rude.
What did you say? I can hear the tone
but the words are gone now and
suddenly unimportant....washed away
down the plughole of insignificance....
Gurgling then gone - lost in the
annals of broken promises and accumulating
hurt which precipitated our goodbye.
I look into your petrified eyes -
eyes that sparkled when I loved you
yet metamorphosed into damming hate at times.
Is your hand touching mine?
I remember when it did - tenderly -
I remember your fingers .... graceful somehow,
artistic, creative, piano playing, painting,
then hitting, hurting - same hands yet tender no more.
Same hands, there in the photograph, no, not touching.
I found a photograph today.
Its discovery rankled my emotions
and I held my breath -
like I did when you frightened me
with your unpredictability.
Your ability to swing from light to dark in an instant.
Yes, I found a photograph today
but its gone now .......
Torn to tatters and thrown into the wind.
Therapeutic in its destruction.
Aiding and abetting reconstruction
of a future without you.
You're gone -
washed away -
gone - down the plughole of insignificance.
Gone in the cleansing of reminiscence.
Gone, gone, gone........
....................... and forgotten.
Categories:
precipitated, lost love, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
Strike Up Spark with Flint
Who said on responsibility they skipped out?
On good water upon us did bring a drought
No doubt, somewhere must be some slander
Precipitated in politics by a Michigander.
Did you see color of water in glass
None of my tests would it ever pass;
Can tell what smell and taste may be like;
For good water have to take a hike.
What are our taxes being spent on?
Where has all our great water gone;
Well, do I have to be more adroit;
They still do have it in Detroit.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Categories:
precipitated, humorous, sad,
Form:
Couplet
The 18th Amendment on Prohibition was debunked in 1933 and replaced by the 21st Amendment that legalized the sale of liquor throughout the country. However, in my state there were counties who chose to remain 'legally dry', but never ceased to drink. And there was a county adjacent to mine that preferred to be wet and sell liquor legally.
When I was just a lad in the early 60's and did not understand 'wet and dry', I was well acquainted with 'drunk and sober'; and I knew that the thirst for liquor did not stop at the county line. Though my county was still legally dry, it was just as precipitated with moonshine as any wet county.
Up the road from my home was a two-story property whose inhabitant made desirable corn whiskey. I knew it was true for sure when coming from school one day, the booze had been poured out all along the roadway and entrenched with an odor no child should ever be allowed to inhale. The community moonshiner had been busted and carried off to jail.
To no one's surprise, by the time I finished high school in 1967, my county had become legally wet like all the rest. I stood and stared at the first liquor store I had ever seen in my county, and there was not a single protest. And even back then, the child in me thought it best that liquor should be found in a store than on a roadway leading to my home.
08302017PoSoupContest, Your Favorite Poem From August 2017, Julia Ward
Categories:
precipitated, addiction, america, corruption, desire,
Form:
Free verse