Best Preventing Poems
The ignorant ones claim,
I'm full of petty problems,
a slave to the darkness,
but if only they had seen
how I've slaughtered
malicious demonic sea creatures
that slithered along my spine,
undisturbed nor provoked.
You are the singing sunrise
to my sultry sunset,
weaving silver sonnets
from beige ballads
seducing my spirit
into sweet slumber—
igniting nocturnal
Novembers with
crimson showers
upon sepia stems,
because It's no longer
the climatic chaos I fear,
it's the calm you've crafted,
continuing to be
my constant comfort.
Your devotion adds
color and clarity in my once
monochrome existence,
as you've polished
the dimmed stars in my eyes,
they now glitter like
shimmering fireflies,
a reincarnation
of the strength
from Freyja's tears,
after you kissed them
with your silken soft sagas.
When the days begin
to dawn upon dreary dusks
you've aromatized my
universe with summer scents.
Thor's thunder could
not demolish our
kind of spring as
our celestial spirits
float around the nine realms.
A part of you will
forever rhyme as
clusters of couplets
fated to be,
the rest of you flow
like simple stanzas
of empathic free verse.
As my story will make
Odin ashamed, and
Fenrir cry, so when all
the beauty of butterflies
congest my throat,
preventing me from
pouring dreams of
stardusts upon
your selfless quill…
always remember us
for the times we swayed
and enclasped into
our own silhouette,
running from the
stormy disarray of society’s
serpentines,
swimming in Satanic
sapphire seas.
Whilst the debt I owe
for your generosity will drown
me in endless poetry,
floating on metaphors
without blueprints,
keeping the vampires
from Beelzebub's door,
releasing me from the
chains of uncertainty …forevermore.
Beyond her veil;
eyes induced by secretive stars
became drawn to a path illuminated by
flickering, shimmering pale moonlight.
Each spirited step led to the
revelation of her secret garden.
But
upon arrival at her doorstep;
disbelief disabled my soul's delight.
Through the mist all I saw were
rotten leaves among crushed rose petals -
wilting.
In shame,
a naked cherry blossom tree
stood in silence, immersed in a puddle of
soaked blushing buds -
drowning.
So I collected every bud, gently
placing them in an empty fountain.
Patiently I sat, embracing her;
waiting for the winds to blow and
take all her imperfect petals with them.
But all they brought was a
spiritless stench, haunting the air.
As the mist cleared, a crow cried,
perched upon a tree stump whose
rotten roots lay amongst its
once magnificent torso.
So I placed all her branches
into a barren river, hoping the rain
would wash them away.
But no rain fell.
Now lost,
I followed confused caterpillars
crawling along a trail of blood.
Upon journeys end;
a breathless butterfly lay in slumber,
So I placed my lips onto hers,
but could not breathe life into her.
To soothe her decaying wings,
I built a cocoon, but only the
caterpillars accepted sanctuary.
Cracks crumbled her wings,
preventing her from healing.
Silent saffron sun awoke blackbirds,
whose chorus of chants guided my mind
away from the valley of misconception.
So I left. Weeping.
Unable to save her once
magnificent garden from ruin.
With Divining Heart I Could Have Foreseen
With true divining heart I could have seen
little ripples of thy deep discontent.
My heart a meadow, once lush and bright green
now aching from lost days so sadly spent.
If thy heart sought the truth instead of lies
thee would have held, fast and firm loving vows.
These tears would not splash down from dark skies
as I seek anew, fertile fields to plow.
Blame I, ignorance of deception's wiles
trusting in our dear love and happy bliss.
Pray I, for miracle that reconciles
this distance, preventing thy soft-lips kiss.
With divining heart I could have foreseen
how thy lost heart would fail us, sweet Colleen.
R.J. Lindley
4-23 -1977
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: 108
Note: My ignorance of a friend and his lies once cost me ever so dearly.
Lesson learned in youth, sad but one I suspect a great many others may have learned as well.
In a world bejeweled
with tainted trinkets,
and feigned flowers,
we follow the
wailing waves below
whirling wind,
like secluded silhouettes,
stranded on the
cusp of chaos,
unable to find the sparkling
streak of hyacinth hope-
between dusk and dawn.
Perhaps there is a
reason why I stopped
rewriting runes with
cashmere conclusions,
as I’ve long been
dreaming of dahlias,
on weathered willows,
oblivious to the
dancing rays
of rising sun swiftly
cascading like
caramel confetti.
I am like the
sleepless ocean,
letting the
fleeting phases
of bewitching moon
lure floating sapphires;
pushing and pulling
my insomniac tides
with turquoise triggers,
as the inner-child
continues to sail
through tumultuous seas,
healing from
the trauma I’ve been fed,
concocted with
raspberry ruins,
from silver spoons,
on dulcet trays.
I’ve tasted poison
in the fruitiest of cocktails,
although the flavors
of life remain
a mystery within a fickle
game of chess,
incomplete
and unattainable.
I search for a sanctuary
where peace lilies sprout,
beneath the eclipsed horizon,
blindfolding my third eye,
as I waltz through astral
spheres to reach
an elysian dimension.
Amidst unanswered questions
hanging like
unsolvable equations,
for all that I’ve believed
was but a myth concealed
in illusory amulets,
bruising my inner psyche,
preventing me
from seeing beyond.
Yet the morning sky
convinces me to
reconsider and realign,
as the whimsical breeze
whispers in a soft cadence:
the Universe is infinite,
so am I.
This pink granite
heart is as vast as
the spring-hills with
deepest of falls,
prevailing traces of
my silenced voice.
And when mauve clouds
kissed my frail fingers,
I remembered how stars
do not need our touch,
to unravel fate laced in
citrine dust,
Like how I breathe-
lavender love,
within me,
leaving no blood
in my veins but poetry-
flowing as the poem
of pearlescent tomorrows,
through thin
sangria streams,
in daisy dialects.
So who am I~
but a mere dot on a
faceless canvas,
an echo of your rosy rhymes,
an incomplete verse with
complex metaphors,
weaving woes in
sunflower silence..
Isn't it about time that the West and NATO stepped in
To put a stop to brutal aggression by Vladimar Putin
Men bound and shot, with their hands tied behind their backs
Enough is enough civilised world, it's time to launch attacks.
From cities and towns the Russians are starting to withdraw
Journalists are reporting on the unspeakable horrors they saw
Russians are preventing burials and bodies are left decaying
War crimes are being committed and we're doing nothing.
Horrific war crimes were being committed, by ISIS in Syria
Now the Russians are doing it and claiming it's fake media
Saying actors are being used and what you're seeing isn't true
But Russia we are not stupid and we can see what you do.
We see the evidence from satellite images of a scorched earth
Many bodies were thrown in pits and then covered with dirt
We see many burnt out cars with charred bodies left inside
Just some of the atrocities that Russians, are trying to hide.
Men, women and children have been tortured and left lying dead
And on the roads and pavements there's pools of bright red.
Women and girls raped at gunpoint, in front of their families
The West and NATO should act and bring that scum to its knees.
Russians are spineless with yellow streaks down their backs
They run for cover when Ukrainians launch counter attacks
They carry out abuse because it makes them feel like men
And target old men, women and defenceless little children.
I don't believe for one minute that Russia will go nuclear
All they're doing is sabre rattling and trying to instill fear
We're giving Ukraine arms but I don't think that's enough
The West and NATO need to man up and start getting tough.
There's no need to invade Russia, so it wouldn't be a threat
Just staying within Ukraine's border would be our safest bet
Drive out those psychopaths who've caused so much pain
Stop the horrific slaughter of innocents, and restore peace again.
Even if the Russians pull out robust sanctions must stay
Because Ukraine will need rebuilding and someone must pay
Everyone thought the mighty Russian army was invincible
But they're all cowardly, spineless and utterly despicable.
Written 7th April 2022
"Although I'm familiar with the art of poetry,
no one has inspired my muse
to inscribe my own journal. -
so I placed my soul in her hands." Silent One
I used to be a journal,
daily dips of ink dripped
deep into my dilapidated soul.
Supporting sorrows of the one
who wrote with endeavour,
'letting go,' of the blackness,
infested within her veins.
Endless chapters of vents,
tears, fears and misery,
bleeding from ruptured arteries,
etched upon the fresh fibres
of a canvas of compassion.
In times of fantasy,
I was a field full of her
supressed wildflowers.
In reality, I was her diary
of deep, destructive desires.
Now her pen rests,
with a sharp nib pointing at me.
Like a shield, preventing
her ink to reveal the
truths behind metaphors.
I'm an anthology of her emotions,
wondering how the next chapter
will be written - is there more to confess?
But in her mute melancholy,
I can think of reasons to express,
but many more to remain inkless.
Yet no other 'ink-toxication' can fill this void -
I'LL FOREVER REMAIN WORTHLESS
as what purpose do I have
without her words perpetually
nourishing my empathic existence.
In this slumber, I collect dust,
feeling bare, but in her rejection -
hungering for her verses to soothe.
my needs are simple
when isolated
from my wants
it took a while
to realize
my many wants
were mere
obstructions
preventing me
from
focusing
on my dreams
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~GATEKEEPER~ 2020
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on December 18, 2018 for contest MINIMALISM sponsored by CECELIA HOPKINS-DREWER - RANKED 1ST
Ruth and her six year old daughter Annie, were moving along the countryside by Train. Ruth was reminiscing. She was staring deeply into her six year old daughter's beautiful brown eyes. Ruth was feeling emotional, and had a deep sorrow filling up her worried heart. The train proceeded. She clutched her daughter close to her with a special mother daughter bond. Anne, her daughter, looked up at her, innocently and asked, "Mommy why are you so sad?" She kept repeating, until her mom answered her. Not wanting to worry her, she replied, "Honey your Mommy is not sad." The six year old intelligently asked, " Mommy then why were you crying?" Her mom replied, " I'm OK sweetheart, now relax, and hold me." Ruth was experiencing a flood of thoughts of Annie growing up as a child. She was asking Annie if she remembered the first time she told her that she loved her. Annie said, " Yes Mommy I remember." Ruth kept a special Diary of times and dates, of special moments she and Annie shared. Ruth thought of Annie's first birthday, when she took her first steps, and was falling forward as she caught her, preventing her from hurting herself. Ruth reached in her jacket and said to Annie, " Honey, always have with you this diary. Annie took the diary and started looking through it. She said, "Mommy this is so special, thank you Mommy." Annies dad was imprisoned, and it added to Ruth's turmoil inside. She was trying to ascertain his whereabouts but was difficult to do so. Annie kept reminding Ruth of her father. She constantly was asking, " Where's Daddy Mommy?" " We will be with him soon." Was her repeated reply. The train made its way through and a Loud whistle blew. It started slowing down, and just before it stopped the whistle blew again. Ruth looked at Annie and said to her, " Always remember honey your Daddy and Mommy, will always love you. Promise me you will never forget." Annie replied, " I promise Mommy to remember." As the Caboose door opened Ruth held Annie's hand. Annie asked her Mom, "Mommy where are we?" Her Mom replied, " We are going to see Daddy and Grandpa, and Grandma." Ruth was shaking inside, and the journey was finally over. The SS Nazi Guards motioned them forward, and directed them into The Auschwitz Concentration Camp.
Michael Tor
How would I have the upper hand
as all around in chaos got drowned
How would I stick to a single stand
when upheavals the soul do confound.
My words whiling away an abiding journey
digging for the nectar of beauty many a well
long striving to my turmoil hide and bury
keep chill and in my secluded shell dwell.
Shall my ink change shade and scent
from dark black to the colour of blood
from the aroma of amber to an anger to vent
and pour heavy pain out of my chest flood.
So hard I tried to forge my very shield
preventing the eye to crime scenes roam
see so filthy hands evil and power wield
wiping from the world face a whole Home.
A word against a world going wrong
shall I yield to what I truly can’t handle
make time, give a chance for a poet’s song
step into the light and leave a bleak bubble.
alone now
I roam through memories
recalling treasures of the past
journeying back to seaside treks with my husband
riding to the city to see Broadway shows
reliving nights of romance
even visiting John’s grave
in the best of times
memories carry me to ocean jetties
where vows of love were exchanged
as waves lapped gently against rocks
if only we could feel these sensations again
family outings at the beach
building sandcastles
burying Dad’s feet in sand
sauntering along the festive boardwalk
hiking through woodlands with friends who have passed
wanting to hug them again
feeling the weight of concrete
preventing my spirit from moving on
as I reach out to heaven
seeking a sign
praying for guidance
hoping past joy will be restored
confined by sadness
I roam through memories
alone now
For Drake’s “I Roam” contest
4/23/11
I remember how I would cry myself to sleep
Night after night then I would wake the next morning
Dreading the moment I stepped into the
School's doors where you would all be waiting.
You'd smile and pretend like we were the best of friends
Till my parents left the car park then the words
Would fall from your mouths slashing and cutting,Burning into
my brain. You would all stand around me mocking me,jeering.
When you saw your words didn't effect me,you moved on to
The physical. I remember how your hands would wrap
around my throat,preventing me from breathing. You'd laugh at
My struggle to breathe. I remember how they would hold
Me down so I couldn't run while you would punch me repeatedly till I
Could no longer stand up right,till I lay in a pool of my own blood. How people
would just watch and laugh but never stop and intervene. The pain and
humiliation I felt only enhanced your glee.
I've grown stronger, now nobody would dare mock me. Sometimes
people aren't strong enough to survive this so they leave but some
people come out stronger...like me. I remember how you'd get so angry
Because I never cried,I never screamed I just took it silently.
When I look back I see how small you were and I try to feel anger at what you
did to me but I feel nothing. I try to hate you but I can't.
Maybe it's because I'm now successful and you have nothing to look forward to
but another gruelling day of pain and little food.
I feel no hate only sympathy towards the person I once feared but no longer do.
Now I look back and smile at how I could've stopped you and I know you
realised this too, now I know why you only ever hurt me when your friends were
around to hold me down. I admit you've ruined me in many ways. I can no
longer trust people,love people,no longer look people in the eye,but I look back
and smile because if you had never hurt me like you did I wouldn't be the
person I am today, I wouldn't be as strong and independent,as successful and
happy as I am today, I would never feel such a strong sense of justice like I do
now so I would like to thank you for making me a better person.
Thank you.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two decades old,
Soft skin light toned,
Bushy brown hair,
skinny slim built,
Eyes blue as the sky,
Emotions and mind,
All so very shy.
Born a Capricorn,
Raised in a working class,
Ball full of energy,
shattering plates and glass,
Father held the iron fist,
Mothers mind in a mist,
Smacking, screaming, shouting,
Reminders of him as a kid,
While she was there to kiss.
Talented athlete at school,
Hung out with kids to cool,
Social pint was empty,
Only half filled with Pepsi,
Peers drank beer,
while I stayed in the clear,
Teachers had crumpet faces,
telling me to tie up my laces,
I wish id listen,
But crunched an apple,
kneeling down in the chapel,
ignoring those prayers,
fed up with restricted care.
Flickering strobes,
Shiny lazer beam lights,
Bikie gangs making me feel so bright,
Strange faces everywhere,
in a cosmos they share,
lit up like christmas,
While satan grants their wish list,
Drenched in sweat,
I realised I was running,
from throbbing headaches and pains,
Cloudy Sunday mornings,
driving me insane.
Spaceship landed,
Half matured man,
half wondering wolf,
Paws deep in mud,
preventing my quest,
for a partner in love,
Mary howls her hisses,
in strong gale winds,
Sunrise to sunset,
Fed up waiting for him,
To taste a teaspoon of courage,
To pop a balloon full of wisdom,
Sitting too comfortably,
In his own prison.
She looks into the mirror, and sees what she is.
A beautiful, bubbly little girl.
Heart opened to the world, trusting everyone who inhabits it.
The corners of her mouth turned upward, her cheeks tinted pink.
She looks at her mirror image and laughs, sticking out her tongue and scrunching up her face.
She goes to bed.
She looks into the mirror, and sees what she is.
A brilliant, creative young girl.
Her face is laced with imperfections, but her mom told her no one is perfect.
Her smile is crooked, her eyebrows are hard to see, and her face is covered in little red demons.
She looks at her mirror image and smiles anyway, not caring about her appearance.
She goes to bed.
She looks into the mirror, and sees what she is told.
An unattractive, bland girl.
Her face has countless flaws, but everyone else looks perfect.
Her smile is crooked, her face is chubby, her acne has taken over, and her eyebrows aren't slim.
She looks at her mirror image with a ghost of a smile, doubt showing through her eyes.
She pushes them away and she goes to bed.
She looks in the mirror, and sees what she thinks is there.
A fat, ugly teen girl.
Body littered with the unattractiveness that defines her existence.
Her heart's shield has come up, preventing the hurt she knows will come.
She looks at her mirror image, mouth pinched in disgust.
Hugging her pillow tightly, she goes to bed.
She looks in the mirror, and sees what she's certain is there.
An unloved husk of a human being.
Her mind now resembles her body, scarred from her own criticism.
Her heart is cracked, her soul broken, her mind tired.
She looks at her mirror image with a huge smile on her face, knowing it will be her last.
She lets go of her life and for the first time in a long time,
She happily goes to bed.
I recently found this poem that I had written. I had written it when I was 13 years old...
What are the soul suckers
that forcibly cleave to you?
What do they mean to you?
Why do you let them steal from you?
How many more times
will they make a meal of you?
Is it television,
or Harlequin Romance books?
Perhaps it’s gambling on your looks?
Maybe it’s wealth or obsessive health
that has attached its hooks?
Be suspect of anything,
that prevents you from being who you are.
That obsession with driving the right car,
the adoration of beautiful people at the bar.
All those pretend pretty things won’t get you far.
Self pleasure, leads in the wrong direction,
away from the True North Star.
That empty feeling,
the loneliness quake,
all it does is take take take!
Can you feel it make your soul shake?
Do you wonder about the decisions you make?
You were born for far more,
soul suckers won’t relieve your heart ache.
They entice you with fake,
preventing you from realizing what’s at stake.
Open your eyes friend,
don’t be deceived by the snake.
He’s there to sap your power
and doesn’t want you to wake.
In the end all he offers
is a fiery lake!
I am the wind
beneath the
sparrows wings
as it heavenly sings.
I am the single rose
sitting in a barren land.
I am the the lions voice,
and the partridge voice as they
rejoice.
I am the beam of light
penetrating the vastness
of the worlds darkness.
The secret power is
no secret,the secret
power is me.
I am the secret power revealed
and concealed in greatness.
I am the suns majestic flames.
The clarity of rain drops,
the zest ,to the minds
bland thoughts of boredom.
I am entertainment.
I am the wood pecker,
soaring steadily in the
balmy winds picking at success.
I am the eagles soaring over
sweet allysum, capturing the sent.
Stupendous I am,
Preening my mind with knowledge,
a pen rigged with wisdom,
wisdom speaks beyond paper
as it leaks from the pore of my quill.
I am the potion full of devotion.
My pen rigged with morphine,
killing I hope the pain of my readers
with poems.
You are no longer lugubrious,
lugubrious you are not.
Healed and fixed upon the first dosage.
I am ,I am ,
I am the poetic doctor,wooing medicine
from the green pastures,
to robe my pen with healing secrets.
I am the nectarines of peach orchards
basting the mouth of pages with sweet words.
Sweet splash sweet splash. I am the sweet taste.
I am the revival of a sun baked raisin, the
revival to a corps laying beneath circling
vultures of the Arabian dessert.
I am the fragments of light circling your heart,a campfire,
the supplier of its poetic aspire.
I am the fridge for poetic dreams,
preventing from expire, raising
heat of poetry soup higher and higher.
Ill never retire until my face
wrinkled and my hair grey wire.
My pen aiming for a writing desire.
On icy roads I keep traction with
hot ink and mental snow tires.
I am a poet wrobed with
creative ink and sapphire.
I am safe gaurding the gates
of a dying world of poetry.
looked upon as a fool why should I stop,
because kids from high school saide iam not cool,
what is their some rule that makes it uncool.
It must be april fools ,safe guarding
your desire is a golden rule.
I am the hope, iam poetrys stool fueling
it with my hand tool full of ink iam the talisman of poetrys gates.
I know who I am and this inspires ME!!!
By: Elliott Bowe
Inspirational Contest
Sponsor:Gail Doyle