Best Precise Poems
Stingray cutting deep murky lines
Curvilinear through the ocean
By Robb A. Kopp
Symmetry of the clock,
near-symmetry of the calendar,
awkwardly near to the asymmetry
of captives who dutifully named them.
Sun, earth, moon, stars,
galaxies and clusters
and galaxies and clusters beyond,
and of them and within them
and aeons past them,
The Timekeepers. Calm and eternal.
Never to be seen or heard
and certainly never to be moved
by the irrational
and the self-destructive,
or by the rational
and the guardians of morality;
not flustered by the flux and madness
as far as we can divine.
30th January 2019
Vague word
Dark corner
Reckless driver
Exact Precise Right Word
Yes, it surely is your and my number;
No matter where we sleep or slumber
Poems of ours are about to spring forth
From either East, West. South or North.
Our each and every poem still share;
All of them are beyond compare;
From their beginning to very end
Into state of ecstasy they will send.
Although abnormal we both may be
With each other always will agree
In one more thought it has occurred
We ended up with exact precise, right word.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
www.story-telling-around-the-world.com
Precise Person We Should Impeach
Trump uses fowl language and poor speech;
Displays lousy behavior and likes bein leech;
Brain became lame;
Does chase dames;
He is precise person who we should impeach.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Bolivia, NC
Girls walk through life with a calculated and precise step,
their beauty hides a sinister and well-woven design,
their eyes are cold, piercing, hard to read and understand,
and they hurt anyone who dares to get too close to their soul.
They are the ones who bring pain to the hearts they encounter on the way,
they lie and manipulate, weaving stories with invisible threads,
their touch burns and destroys, leaving deep marks on the skin of time,
I have seen how they leave hearts shattered, scattered into a thousand pieces.
They are the masks of a designer of illusions that dance in shadows,
blending light and darkness, creating a spectacle of fragility,
but beyond this facade lie untold stories and silences,
for they too carry deep within their soul an unspoken longing for true love.
Perhaps beneath this cold and calculated mask lies a dream,
a dream of finding someone who can see beyond reflections and lies,
someone to discover the beauty in their hidden imperfection,
and to transform the pain into a story of hope and redemption.
A particular precise master gardener with a touch of delight
lives in this castle, that looks glorious and bright
Her curtains are delicate, gauzy and fine.
She knows how to plant her blooms in a line.
She did not always spend so much time on this place
But she adores her yard and house, a gorgeous space.
Rarely entertains for upkeep and beautification takes all of her time.
She is totally happy with it, this finicky great aunt of mine.
I dispatched my poem, a suave projectile on a precise trajectory,
Through the vast azure, through the unwritten infinity unfolding its mysteries,
Do not dare to await me, for my path is a float in the boundless,
You do not know if the verse will strike the heart, or disperse into the millions of parallel universes.
I shall stand, yes, I will pause to rest under the wise alder trees,
With waxy leaves, kissed by a doe’s bitter tear,
The animals of the forest nourish their young with the tangy milk of pain,
While I ponder how my poetry is a ship adrift in another dimension.
Do not tire yourselves with thoughts of my arrival, the path is a labyrinth of maybes,
The leaf-rustling of life turns abruptly, with sandwiches carried by wandering fates,
Perhaps you will be gripped by longing, perhaps in the woods where the sun yields its communal end,
There, a lone stag murmurs grunts, like a vestige of my being that was once conceived.
If it may be, seize a moment thus slipped through the fingers of time,
And crush, with the memory of longing, the alder leaf that found a home on the shoulder of your anticipation,
Let its scent intertwine in the whirl of thought, of yearning, of that which was and whispers no more,
My poetry, without me, an echo leaning against the hidden wall of your soul - it begs.
Time is,
precise machinery device ...
does not delay,
it doesn’t advance,
it doesn't break ...!
Flowing like a rivers water into the ocean
Parts of the river are caught in a puddle growing stagnate
Some evaporating into thin air
The water that goes deep into the earth
Waters life giving it life giving these trees nourishment
With eyes that see but cannot hear these sounds
Of this flowing river become lost in the vast ocean
Creating confusion of which path to take
Some float on the river in a raft going over the rapids
Never stopping and finding this river again
Some take sips of the rivers water and never quench their thirst
Others drink daily and their thirst is always quenched
This water cannot be bottled it is free for all to drink
I dig at the root of solar stars
To find my lost soul
Through the galaxy of past worlds
I misplaced it in a faint regret.
I’m dominated by a bath of light
Surrounding an angry black,
It's a new planet for me,
A conglomerate of tears and sins.
A wave of feelings presses on me
Like the greatest longing,
Among planets and a thousand comets
I am suspended and unable to die.
I timidly enter the new galaxy
A hurried rookie in the Universe,
I am a precise point in the drifting black,
A false noise of a mortal.
In unison they glide on ice.
Now each adoring move so precise.
At sea, navigate
it is necessary... to be
be alive...
On the earth walk
it is necessary to
reborn , so said
Jesus... !
M-emories
A-lways
R-eturn
I-nto
S-oul's
H-ead,
M-aking
A-ll
L-ife's
L-ovely
O-utlooks
W-ell-defined
M-agnifying
A-ll
R-ecollections
A-nd
O-rderly
N-ostalgia
©bfa060225
Monocrostic (Birthday of Marish Mallow Maraon)
PRECISE PERSPECTIVES
off
reflected
hues
reclining
stretching
topography
in
painstakingly
perfect
proportions
frictionless
compositions
directly
confront
distant
discomfort
in
muted
sophisticated
eccentricity
with
unsettling
rigour
in
captured
layered
perceptions