Best Prime(A) Poems
She was a jolly woman in her prime, a beauty
And she had a crush on the man who made her laugh
So thus enamored, she asked him, “Will you marry me?
She married to the whole man just only for his laugh.
A luxury reflex without having any apparent utility.
He laughed and made her laugh with silly sounds
Like a bad actor in a Dudley Do Right play.
He laughed with the people and at the people
She then listened to the actual sound of his laugh.
It didn’t make her heart go pitter patter
But infuriated her and weighed on her
And proved a bad medicine not healing her mind.
A day came when he laughed her out of his life.
Now reconsidering proper laughter the best medicine
She’s looking for the whole man with a real laughter.
+++
August 24, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta
First Place Win
Contest: Will you Marry Me by Judy Konos
That special season of our lives
When we are at the pinnacle of
Our prime, a time that glorifies youth.
Sultry showers under flowered bowers,
Scintillating scents where love blooms
In damp drops that lightly cool the skin.
Sunshine spilled over me in warm waves
Along the verdant hidden path I explored
As an aqua pool gave way to my dreams.
Birds were watching as I skinny dipped
Beneath the waterfall in a crystal pall,
I never knew you were watching too.
A photographer for National Geographic,
You got your shots, but I was in your thoughts
As later you conveyed to me so joyously.
One sleepy summer afternoon in humid June
We fell in love and returned to that lovely spot.
It will be there, we will always share our ecstasy.
7-3-16
Summertime Contest
Sponsor Janis Thompson
In a great big valley, between two hills
A willow, stands broken and bent
Her crooked shadows play on the ground
Her bark, now jagged and spent
An old cracked swing hangs on her branches
Where laughter used to reside
A couple of holes buried deep in her heart
A place for the squirrels to hide
The breeze ever gently caresses her hair
As if he's trying to console
A creaking is heard down deep in her joints
The years have taken their toll
She's afraid that this winter might be her last
As she stares out across the hill
Watching the stars all take their places
As the breeze grows quiet and still
The very next morning the flowers awake
Stretching their arms toward the light
The breeze shakes the willow to give her a kiss
To find that she died in the night
In a great big valley, between two hills
A willow has fallen asleep
Well past her prime, a product of time
Leaving just the flowers to weep
Soar with good cheer,
Play as you sing;
Reap touch sincere,
Ink precious fling;
Note fragrant poise,
Glimpse a fond ease.
Stream with calm voice,
Urge confronts feast;
Reach for bright blooms,
Prime a sure streak;
Right moves fill room,
Impact floods peak;
See profound spring,
Embrace and sing.
Leon Enriquez
19 January 2015
Singapore
In the Church, I met a woman quite old,
Bending under the weight of years.
I wonder what made her steal my attention.
Was it her struggle to hold back her tears?
Despite her frail stooping figure
She seemed to have an indomitable will.
Defeating all infirmities of age, she stood,
With a face though sad, yet tranquil and still.
Strange enough, she recalled to me,
The determined but decrepit old man beside the pool
Who Wordsworth had once encountered,
Gathering leeches so scarce, but resolute and cool
I watched the woman humbly prostrate,
And feebly rise and straighten her aged form,
Surrendering herself at the feet of God,
Imploring grace for life’s little tasks to perform.
In her gnarled hands, she firmly held a prayer book,
With the other supporting her frail figure on a staff,
And with a sigh of relief, she left the church,
As if her afflictions were reduced to half.
As the Congregation dispersed in all directions
She feebly walked to her accustomed haunt.
At the rear side of the church was a Cemetery unkempt,
Where the ancestors slept, devoid of earthly cares and want.
Among all the tombstones in marble and granite
Erected in memory of the kindred dead,
There was a newly dug up grave,
That stood aloof as a heap of mud.
I watched the old woman approach this spot,
Where she knelt down with a calm demeanor.
Her withered hands clasped together in piety,
And her eyes closed in silent prayer.
With a convulsive motion of her lips
She rose and once more knelt down,
As if searching for a face so dear
Whose memory she could never ever drown.
Within that mound, slept her only son,
Who died in his prime, a month before,
Leaving his widowed mother behind,
To brave the shafts stinging, so sore.
As Time by seconds and minutes ticked away
The bereaved mother stood up at last,
And heavily yet quietly walked away,
Leaving the one who was once her own part.
In sadness, her faith sheds light in her cloistered heart
She has a calm assurance that though her son is gone,
In another realm, free from all tribulations and pain
He walks immortal in radiant bliss in the light of dawn!
April. 4. 2023
~ Placed Fifth~
Death of a Loved One Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Unseeking Seeker
Prime a good time,
Attract grand rays,
Choice works fine rhymes;
Charm paves the way,
Attain fond chimes,
Play fits the day.
Pleasure takes form,
Align fond grace,
Choose life's sweet norms;
Cheer funds fine face,
Ask for grand forms,
Poise wins the race.
Prize your firm stay,
Ask for clear sight,
Calm poise to pray;
Claim what feels right,
Apt wealth funds way,
Proof feels so light.
Leon Enriquez
20 January 2015
Singapore
Prime a good time
Time that words chime
Chime in sound rhymes
Ply your sweet wine
Wine that spreads lines
Lines that feel fine
Plot to be wise
Wise in calm spice
Spice more surprise
Leon Enriquez
04 October 2014
Singapore
Meet each day well with cheer and joy,
Yield to the light that shows the way.
Begin and dwell on happy ploys,
Opt for insight as calmness stays;
Arrive with zest that funds sure start,
Reach for wise peace that heaps fine moods;
Depart for quest with steadfast heart,
Intuit with ease the common good;
Notice that poise that sculpts fine feel,
Give in to truth that shines a light.
Prime a kind voice to touch and heal,
Allow love's proof to shape your sight;
Seek to be wise beyond mere gain,
See life surprise with wealth laid plain.
Leon Enriquez
25 June 2015
Singapore
Declare and see,
Realise the truth;
Aim just to be,
Mindful of proof,
Ask for sure heart.
Urge joy to cast,
Prime a fine start;
Opt first and last,
Now and here know.
Decree and act,
Reach a grand show,
Apt feel moves tact;
Moments of wit
Attain sure fit.
Leon Enriquez
28 January 2015
Singapore
Number 35
SALVAGE
Ideas and thoughts
I borrow all
Prime a new plot
Old deeds fit call
Leon Enriquez
24 January 2015
Singapore
When I die, don't let me lie
in some godforsaken hole
dotted round with frosted stones;
arrange for me an alibi –
through the purifying fire
let love guide my spirit home.
Then stir my ash in coloured paint,
remembering how I loved the stains
colouring my hands and knees.
Then load me in a cannon, please –
prime a canvas, four by six
and fire the paint-and-ashes mix.
So may my final masterpiece
portray my ultimate release,
not to be misunderstood –
my heart's creation will be good.
Moments of grace create new birth,
Yield to sure fate as urge springs grand.
Prime a clear face in cast of worth,
Apt that fine date to sync with plans;
Reach out to touch a fragrant stay,
Explore the stretch of lovely dance;
Note a firm nudge that shows the way,
Taste a fine match as hope weaves chance;
Succinct the poise of feel that rhymes.
Sweet is the stuff of dreams that sum,
Mind and heart voice as form now chimes,
Invoke enough of fond outcomes;
Live in the light of smiles that fill,
Echoes feed sight with warm appeal.
Leon Enriquez
30 June 2015
Singapore
Fond as fine can be,
Etch succinct align;
Embrace mystery,
Live that clear design.
Reach a deeper stay,
Allow clarity;
Prime a better way,
Thrill in sure beauty;
Unleash pure finesse,
Recall a sure light;
Endow a bold jazz.
Note that sacred sight;
Observe a glimpse clear,
Words confront arrears.
Leon Enriquez
17 September 2014
Singapore
Your kiss is a love letter to my heart
In bliss receiving with open arms
The purple pen you use rights all wrongs
Connecting me to you in a soulful song
Why is it we struggle within love
Embraces double like winged dove
We find a feud to be a tarp
In an hour or two making love like art
If we can find us over vanity
See green four leaf clover of sanity
Rainbow brushes beneath the waist
Passion gushes like water from lake
Not defined by lowest denomination
Black love in prime a tribal celebration.
11/24/23 Kandle Karen Jones
ANCIENT FOUNTAIN
A fountain amid a floral garden,
flowing to no end,
Still yet watering surrounding flowers,
the souls of them therein.
Perineal plantings, growing wild,
No vines, no weeds, or thorns,
Yielding strength and beauty there,
blooming fragrant every morn.
The rustic fountain ever pouring,
Like an eternal prime, a spout from glory,
A life source deep within earthen grounds,
A treasure found, God’s Story.