Best Preservative Poems
Would Autumn's leaves' colors dazzle us so
displayed on their twigs the year round?
Would Spring's peonies seem so full, so fragrant
if they never faded in the heat of the Summer?
Would Winter's soft snows so enthrall and enchant us
were they to fall in the heat of July?
All beauty's ephemeral ~ its Death the preservative
that enriches our Lives with such meaning
Categories:
preservative, beauty, death, life, meaningful,
Form:
Verse
Memories of goodness from collaborating nakedness
are more than strong appetizing captivity from hot omelets and lasagna
serving as the foundation of a strong intimacy
planted in a greenhouse of mythical pleasures
growing in the natural mood of the angels,
joy of a breast fed toddler and
the blossom of a newly wedded bride
making each episode of our erotic escapades
fit in perfectly like fried bricks placed by an experienced mason
to always anticipate holy crimes, godly naughtiness and tempting tenderness.
Having a voice formed from taking Nature’s tea
your happy reactions feel like wrapping thighs over my soft abdomen
and playfulness like your tender pelvis greasing my trunk.
your anxious tongue convulse at the slightest touch of any body part
like the dancing tail of a fast swimming fish
padding my inside to softness to provide sensual oxygen
giving constant preservative to our gritty and never decaying romance.
Such love always create classic dreams
with slow melodic settings showcasing proactive kisses
from nuclear minds so spontaneous and rhythmic,
liberal skins ready for intense foreplays
making even our under wears carry so much envy
because of such a walled passion
impenetrable by any radar and unsinkable by any disaster.
Our essence of clothing is to take them off
the significance of our schooling is to garnish up such affection
the creation of this heat is a powerful reality
standing between men and angels
summing up a traditional fairy attached by
a never ending chain of irresistible desires
this exactly defines the two of us.
this bond is just conservative to our unique and inferno experience
and so therefore, the ultimate hope is, we should never stop!
Categories:
preservative, love, romance, romantic, sexy,
Form:
Romanticism
The eyes are the windows to the soul
My ardent desire is to keep her eyes
Eyes so beautiful
Eyes so omniscient
But how can I conserve it?
Is there any preservative?
Can a hospital do it?
When they cremate her
How can I look into her soul?
Or she can look into mine?
I can’t think of her to be lonely.
She believed in pure love
And she also said “No love without a touch”
She even refused to accept flowers
As they need not be considered the proof of love
I am much agitated and unhappy
As in death even her eyes sparkles iridescently.
+++++++
April 2, 2014
Form: Free Verse
tenth place win
Contest: Any poem goes 18 by Linda
Categories:
preservative, loneliness, love,
Form:
Free verse
Realization
Fear is cancer’s preservative,
As Embalming fluid to the living.
And you, oh accuser,
Are fear’s embalming salesman.
You are a snake,
Paradox bound.
Wrapped around the rod that binds you,
Depraved.
Attempting to free itself from its own fault.
Deceiving and deluding all who come near,
Nothing but a false symbol of repose.
Biding its time until the sirens sound.
Grace
I don’t need to focus on death,
Studying it and its slow progression.
Its course is clear already,
But when death is circling close.
That is when redemption finally feels closer,
That’s when Jesus’s glory steps in.
It is a mighty rushing wind,
Quick and frightening
Ever so fierce to eradicate,
The sickness of chains ever going.
I want to be watching for that glory,
To set my boy free from this purgatory.
Resolution
So here we are,
The air is emptier without his laugh.
But yet our hearts are full,
Though, with a different drink.
Now this ride that I was on is now silent,
So we sit here in this new silence.
And long for the music to start again,
And for the disc to spin again.
Even if it means going round and round for years,
At least I would be moving.
And he would be laughing in heaven,
But in this space.
His silence is because he is drawing his breathe,
And now I know love.
Empty and full, all in one moment.
Categories:
preservative, cancer, deep, faith, father
Form:
Free verse
(Me slippery fingers slither,
slip and slide splashing ala
Jackson Pollock), sans slap
dash experimental, swiftly
tailored and harried writing
style, yes on par with purging,
spewing, venting...unexpurgated,
unexpressed, unexplained...
words, which this Engelbert
Humperdinck singer/songwriter,
(whose name inexplicably popped
into the mind of this Dadaist)
offers "FAKE" apology for any
self inflicted, or sadomasochistic
flagellated cranial contusions
out of utter futility to make sense
regarding following gobbledygook!
GOOD LUCK!
Mine groovy palmar flexion creases
forever moistened by porous size
damn leaking levees provoking deluge
outranking Biblical flood - handy history
(in miniature) replete with Ark keel
logical artifacts discovered by hall n
oats marked wainwright - about 10 stone and
5 pound huckster, circa Fin de siècle,
when callous ten hooks (calisthenics,
eh) caught without Noah shadow of a
doubt proof positive by Matthew Scott,
(amat sure his surname) linkedin to storied
testament rivalling epic of Gilgamesh,
nee the entire spoilers alerts since
dawn of civilization writ small impossible
mission to decipher indelibly etched,
(what appear as Egyptian hieroglyphics),
methinks his perspiration contains
preservative agent, (a natural formaldehyde
like substance) generated nsync to maintain
eternal youthfulness, which stumps
medical community, and earned him
hashtagged "hotmail" (eagerly sought
after human commodity), a blessing
and curse palms plagued with chronic
wetness, yet lines (little flushed streams
of consciousness) rowed by itty bitty
teensy weensy merry daydreamers harkens
back when life held faint promise for
scattered (contra) bands of bipedal
hominids fiercely competing with trumpeting
(Taj Mahal sized) beasts (donned tousled
windswept hirsute trademark) Euclid
heir'm barreling along barren steppes
all around the one straggly mulberry bush,
where one pensive monkey (protohuman)
chased the weasel all around the world wide web.
Categories:
preservative, analogy, atheist, boat, creation,
Form:
Free verse
I manifested through the astral portal; warm sanctuary is mother’s chamber…
The gestation of magic crescendos as I emerge from her labor…
Programming me with her love actions…
Allowing me to witness the wholeness of Savoring Spiritual Satisfaction…
During the infancy the hallway to subconscious mind is illuminated from the inner sun…
Walls covered in art, music soothing the heart…
Enticing one; trust intuitive feelings, being the human life artist…
Playing soul music connected is imagination revealing the joy of spirit…
Spiraling, Spinning, turning, emerging upon this space…
A morphing scene the sacred holographic place…
Mastering vibration in conjunction with visualization creating a new earth grace…
We are the energy…
False is individual, state, country identity…
The boxing of borders has herded the human sheep…
Vampires of energy drained us of life force blood; dimming the hallway…
Washing our creative genius into the streets gutter; covered by a mountain made of paper and bottles…
Fantasized Energy Appearing Real; tool of mind manipulation…
Concealing divinity in a preservative sewer tomb of propaganda fear...
In defiance we unite to push this energy back to its source…
No longer shall we be the pan handlers of governmental energy scraps…
Using humanity as working slaves to make corporate wealth treasure maps…
We now evoke from within; the knowing of truth held when life began…
I open my heart vortex beaming into you the original emotion
Tears stream from my soul windows cleansing your fields…
Returning your inner mind hallways to the brilliance of love…
Spiraling, Spinning, turning, emerging upon this space…
A morphing scene the sacred holographic place…
Mastering vibration in conjunction with visualization creating a new earth grace…
Categories:
preservative, love, social, spiritual, life,
Form:
Free verse
Sleep, it is a route
But a few are those that know it end.
A preservative detour to-
A remote sanctum.
Escape from contest
For a fleeting hero it is.
Whom's gate is in trance
A vain path to haven brief.
Immortal against mortality-
It is fancied.
Eases the day's turmoil-
On the Calvary it thrusts them.
But against this fancy,
a mere hoodwink of mind it is,
Which the feeble approbate to-
Bury cowardice
Categories:
preservative, adventure, art, fantasy, hope,
Form:
Free verse
2022 Polar Vortex - Across Wide Band Of North America
Power outage here within
mine happy hunting grounds
(as well the ghosts of Lenni Lenape),
viz Perkiomen Valley, Pennsylvania
December twenty third
two thousand twenty two wrought
(lasting greater part of twelve hours)
impossible mission to keep warm
generating body heat
necessity courtesy three dog night,
sure as I'm sitting here
nevertheless found yours truly
yearning for global warming
while dentures chattered
a mile a minute then jumped
out me mouth
and scrabbled, scrambled
and scratched along floor
leaving corpse like body abed
stiff as a board
dead cold analogous,
when rigor mortis
grips lovely bones
immune to brutal cold.
Ordinarily, the weather
considered non trees
son us, a neutral subject on par
with non nose
wrinkling odoriferous cheese
usually ranks as minor distraction,
without whether yours truly agrees
or not, except
during balmy temperatures,
an unavoidable tease,
whereat sub zero degrees,
whether Centigrade or Fahrenheit
demands human sacrifice
(me anima knocking knees),
no negotiating with Ole Man Winter,
he requests (lest
he continue deep freeze
maelstrom until the end of time),
nothing 'cept a healthy seas
sunned *****sapien to appease
his insatiable appetite
froze to the core,
when all body functions cease,
thus until onset of frostbite disease
transformed me into a human popsicle
obliging surrender of self,
no matter I always minded "p's"
and "q's", and adhered
to selfless decrees
not until that moment - this me's
lee sad excuse e'en for missing link,
said personal radar of this primate
suddenly went haywire madly wheeze
zing, as if giant hand (some
harried styled swiftly tailored
paw) did squeeze
traumatizing, suffocating, mangling
constricting, asphyxiating... sensation
(surprised muss elf, and all my enemies,
hence survived death as a breeze)
when similar to Socrates
ill fate found him downing hemlock,
necessitated, I reluctantly quaffed antifreeze
as preservative, plus
out of necessity to survive
being clobbered, buffeted,
assaulted...finally please
zing lee melting titanic iceberg
more bearable on par with a sneeze
than compared to frigidity
of writer's block.
Categories:
preservative, 12th grade, adventure, america,
Form:
Rhyme
As infrequent a visitor
hayrides through haunted woods are
to the segregate’s prison of elm and oak
is the sliver of Ray-ban hope
I used to count on
for steady supplies of vegetation
on my salad plate,
overgrown now with yellow seed
blossoming dollops of strawberry preservative.
Categories:
preservative, depression,
Form:
Free verse
Courtesy handy dandy
palmar hyperhidrosis
impossible mission to defeat
except poe wet tickly
even courtesy drysol.
(Me slippery fingers slither,
slip and slide splashing ala
Jackson Pollock), sans slap
dash experimental, swiftly
tailored and harried writing
style, yes on par with purging,
spewing, venting...unexpurgated,
unexpressed, unexplained...
words, which this Engelbert
Humperdinck singer/songwriter,
(whose name inexplicably popped
into the mind of this Dadaist)
offers "FAKE" apology for any
self inflicted, or sadomasochistic
flagellated cranial contusions
out of utter futility to make sense
regarding following gobbledygook!
GOOD LUCK!
Mine groovy palmar flexion creases
forever moistened by porous size
damn leaking levees provoking deluge
outranking Biblical flood - handy history
(in miniature) replete with Ark keel
logical artifacts discovered by hall n
oats marked wainwright - about 10 stone and
5 pound huckster, circa Fin de siècle,
when callous ten hooks (calisthenics,
eh) caught without Noah shadow of a
doubt proof positive by Matthew Scott,
(amat sure his surname) linkedin to storied
testament rivalling epic of Gilgamesh,
nee the entire spoilers alerts since
dawn of civilization writ small impossible
mission to decipher indelibly etched,
(what appear as Egyptian hieroglyphics),
methinks his perspiration contains
preservative agent, (a natural formaldehyde
like substance) generated nsync to maintain
eternal youthfulness, which stumps
medical community, and earned him
hashtagged "hotmail" (eagerly sought
after human commodity), a blessing
and curse palms plagued with chronic
wetness, yet lines (little flushed streams
of consciousness) rowed by itty bitty
teensy weensy merry daydreamers harkens
back when life held faint promise for
scattered (contra) bands of bipedal
hominids fiercely competing with trumpeting
(Taj Mahal sized) beasts (donned tousled
windswept hirsute trademark) Euclid
heir'm barreling along barren steppes
all around the one straggly mulberry bush,
where one pensive monkey (protohuman)
chased the weasel all around the world wide web.
Categories:
preservative, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Free verse
My presence in your garden is precious
as timeless treasure that radiates glowing colors
of brown, orange, pink, red, violet, white, and yellow
symbolizing everlasting love, vibrant hope, and remembrance
since I can last for a long time --- to showcase my decorative usefulness~~~
I am called Everlasting Flower with botanical name, Helichrysum bracteatum.
Growing midst full sun in well-drained soils
I am relatively pest free, yet a friend to butterflies…
My resilience is due to natural resin content I possess
acting as preservative for me to retain my God*-endowed structure
testifying triumphant existence blest along nature’s enduring artistry~~~
My common labels include Strawflower and Yellow Paper Daisy Flower.
*1 Peter 1:24-25 For All flesh is as grass, And all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away: But the word of the Lord endureth for ever. And this is the word which by the gospel is preached unto you.
March 11, 2024
4th place, "You're A Flower in my garden 8 to 12 lines" Personification Poetry Writing Contest; Sponsored by Tania Kitchin; judged on 3/17/2024
Honorable Mention, "Admire a Summer Flower" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Jay Narain; judged on 5/15/2024
Categories:
preservative, appreciation, blessing, christian, creation,
Form:
Personification
One thinks poetry is a couch to make the world play therapist,
or at least take note and listen.
One thinks poetry is a prayer book, calling the faithful to litany
or the faithless to become congregation.
One thinks poetry is a rifle to shoot the head with images of war
or blast away the combat’s trauma.
One thinks poetry’s a vase to preserve the cuttings from the garden
or store stony trinkets collected from private shores.
One thinks poetry is a bullfrog shut in a dry shoebox, ready to croak
or jump out inappropriately during show and tell.
One thinks poetry is confetti, meaningless color tossed haphazardly,
or blinding shards thrown like glitter into eyes.
One thinks poetry is preservative to allow display of pale, shriveled organs
or the internal parasites that feed upon them.
One wonders if this poetry deserves the polite applause for its presentation
or if the art has been lost in the hands of these practitioners.
Categories:
preservative, on writing and wordsprayer,
Form:
Free verse
DARKNESS GROWS IN THE GARDEN OF PLEASANTRIES
Meandering through the garden of pleasantries,
did you sense, the breathless pant of trees,
or hear, the violin seduction, of Cupid’s sentries,
or pierce the eyes, the blossom spread of luxuries?
Do tell of sandals, chains and locks lost in shrubberies!
O turtle doves, between your teeth, insolent mulberries.
Too soon succumbed to satin skin, fracas of discoveries.
The fruited-fountain of chocolate but noncommittal fudgeries.*
The shrieking tomb of sirens — seagulls sic the maggoty melodies.
The butterfly tresses of yesteryear sans curmudgeon cure of drudgeries.
You thought to toss away her sensuous beauty, with exorbitant lies.
No hope in her sea soaked eyes, salt preservative of glass flies.
4/14/2018
*fudgeries - fakes (made up word)
Categories:
preservative, dark,
Form:
Monorhyme
All the nice things in life!
By Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad author
& A Poetry Soup honourably mentioned poet
All the nice things in life!
Are said to be the cause of strife.
Some even can shorten your life.
Sugar is one oh so sweet.
That’s something to cut down to eat.
Salt also is said to be bad.
A lot on fish and chips I’ve had.
Exhaust fumes from motorcars.
Air fresheners in the house and car.
All those chemicals we inhale.
No wonder we are sick and pale.
Too much sun is bad it’s true.
So cover our skin in chemicals, we do.
So much preservative we digest.
What else is bad I can ingest?
Now fizzy drinks must also go.
Those full of sugar or so low.
So if you do, none of these.
Life should be like a fresh breeze!
Categories:
preservative, anxiety, confusion, drink, environment,
Form:
2019 Polar Vortex - Across Wide Band Of North America
Ordinarily, the weather
considered non trees
son us, a neutral subject on par
with non nose wrinkling odoriferous cheese
usually ranks as minor distraction,
without whether yours truly agrees
or not, except
during balmy temperatures,
an unavoidable tease,
whereat sub zero degrees,
whether Centigrade or Fahrenheit
demands human sacrifice
(me anima knocking knees),
no negotiating with Ole Man Winter,
he requests (lest
he continue deep freeze
maelstrom until the end of time),
nothing 'cept a healthy seas
sunned *****sapien to appease
his insatiable appetite
froze to the core,
when all body functions cease,
thus until onset of frostbite disease
transformed me into a human popsicle
obliging surrender of self,
no matter I always minded "p's"
and "q's", and adhered
to selfless decrees
not until that moment - this me's
lee sad excuse e'en for missing link,
said personal radar of this primate
suddenly went haywire madly wheeze
zing, as if giant hand (some
harried styled swiftly tailored
paw) did squeeze
traumatizing, suffocating, mangling
constricting, asphyxiating... sensation
(surprised muss elf, and all my enemies,
hence survived death as a breeze)
when similar to Socrates
ill fate found him downing hemlock,
necessitated, I reluctantly quaff antifreeze
as preservative, plus out of necessity to survive
being clobbered, buffeted,
assaulted...finally please
zing lee melting titanic iceberg
more bearable on par with a sneeze
than compared to frigidity of writer's block!
Categories:
preservative, america, deep, february, howl,
Form:
Light Verse