Best Prior Poems
Friday, three days prior;
The Son was scourged and bleeding.
Sunday, when He rose again-
A spotless Lamb proceeded.
Friday, three days prior;
The Son had cried: “forsaken?”
Sunday, when He rose again-
The keys of hell were taken.
Friday, three days prior;
The Son of God was dead.
Sunday, when He rose again-
Trembling demons fled.
Friday, three days prior;
The Son was laid to rest.
Sunday, when He rose again-
He bore a Royal Crest.
Friday, three days prior;
The Son was in a tomb.
Sunday, when He rose again-
The Rose of Sharon bloomed.
Friday, three days prior;
The Son was set in stone.
Sunday, when He rose again-
He claimed His rightful throne.
An I am of Love is precept approved,
Doesn’t need approval of concepts' inept,
Doesn’t need the nod of man/woman, only God,
By precept of love’s absolve soul’s love is kept!
Seeing Love’s being is uncompromising,
Not of double mind concepts non-comprising,
Within one’s own precept love is the comprising,
Will be no rising in the mind’s compromising!
As yeast from the east, bread of life is apprising,
Pending only a few mind’s their realizing,
Of love’s precept which is uncompromising,
Where shall you be(?), at the precept’s advising…
In life’s ascension of illusion’s mountain,
Toward the drinking of your precept’s fountain,
Of clear, free moving waters, life appertain,
Where forever love’s precept shall be obtained!
Since the very dawn of precept’s greatness of spawn,
Parasites of concept’s might, sought the abject wand,
Oh Judas concept, mind inept, precept abscond,
The Stubborn Ox, the metaphor correspond!
The belligerent concept, of elder mind,
In complex darkness, is groping, seeking to find,
Within the whorish darkness first light’s refine,
Out of void of darkness came light, mind was blind!
As you are my love beneath a full moon
a rendered silhouette in splayed light
our arms are empty as our eyes consume
in wondrous dreams that lay before the night
the scent of fragrant love shares its rapture
fills the senses with our sensual glance
when emotion overtakes and capture
we treasure the heart of our jeweled romance
how quiet and naked is our desire
how tenderly warm our hands are when held
closer to the edge of moments prior
when lips softly touch and begin to meld
as the mouth of lover's drip nectared bliss
slowly their lips will part from their first kiss
Pen prepares its blood with quiet intent,
Flowing with words that embrace no cliche;
Its spirit starts to pump the heart's content,
Beginning with inner insights to say.
The ink's voice shouts with neither sound nor noise,
Creating calmness inside the bold mind;
The soul's silent scream still seems its best choice,
For the right meanings hiding there to find.
Shrouded images sprout in clarity,
Springing with fragrant flowers of wisdom;
Brightly bringing beauty to pure poetry,
As the author asserts his true kingdom.
Golden goal greatly gains its priceless prize,
As wonder wakes up the sweet sleeping eyes.
Cloud bank rolling in
Eve's shooting stars been obscured
Wish came true with you
Past Prior Days
This is a simply, modified analysis
of "For Love of Politics," written by
Sally Bedell Smith about both of
the Clinton's. Bernie probably has
already read this after hearing some
of the things he has been saying.
We have done things in past prior day
Wanting to forget not deserving praise
Reduce earnings by increasing production
Of total amount of income tax deduction.
Tax advisors surely would flip their lid
When seeing things that were contributed
No wonder when we make a financial blunder
We are may end up going completely under.
Some people told stories while others lied
Result was that some committed suicide
And to forget them all how hard we try
Knowing we soon will die bye and bye.
We patch each patch and sew each suture
And then start looking into the future
Experience best teacher has always been
When we are willing to start over again.
What I have often heard many people say
If you cannot ever find it on my resume'
After slowing down and starting to coast
You should never ever brag or even boast.
Hillary in her past has played each game
Now knows how to live with fortune and fame
After education and experience must be the one
Can successfully grasp straws and get things done.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Today I started Bellmouth High
Finally growing up I thought with a sigh
First days are always full of stressful nerves
Who grew taller who got curves
This year was no exception to the rule
We weren't babies anymore this was high school.
Everyone gathered in the auditorium as the rising freshman were due to speak
Just as quiet came over the mob I felt it start to leak.
Sweating bullets as the bubble took hold
One silently had already leaked out truth be told.
Each freshman took a turn
Two in front of me that's when it decided to burn.
No time now so had to just bear it
TElling myself to put on the brakes cause I was sure to ****.
My turn I walk all penquin like holding back so my problem wouldn't be known
The counselor came from the back and just as she passed by with the microphone
She paused behind me and said go ahead and start
And as if on cue my body let out the most embarrassing fart.
Now if that wasnt enough for my name to smear
It was when it went thru the speakers for everyone to hear.
Then as silence still ruled the moment
The boy right behind me said "eww" can you imagine my torment.
So from that day forward instead of being the Thinker
They call me the Stinker..
Evening:
empty streets and empty hearts,
all seems silent, eerily still,
each house a silhouette,
a chink of light the only sign of life,
curtains pulled tightly shut,
as if to keep out the virus,
keep out the world.
And inside each house,
people are going stir crazy,
hoping and praying,
arguing and weeping,
and worrying.
I reach my house,
see its chink of light at the window,
and I, too, shall close the door on the world,
friends and strangers alike.
for Team Soup's Coronavirus contest
Kill or cure alls of the mind are in the bottles,
with dual instructions, take at one’s own risk.
Swim in an ocean of salt, options one has as
the eyes burn, “I wonder what on earth is the matter.”
Relieving the symptoms of gout could be the cure that
brought the heart attack about. The mind's panacea, could
eventually by it’s own illusion be the cause of earth's pandemic
pandemonium. All options of one’s mind, limits all possibilities,
as the thrill is in the adrenal rush, thus being the mind's main thrust!
As a healthy man of 66, I personally don’t need the adrenaline fix,
balancing my heart’s love between the reality of the plus and minus.
While manifesting the love nature in the paranormal cure.
And that being, the yin and the yang, the female and the male,
the act of love between the two, which is actually the glue;
the true cure we all must eventually pursue. Or stay in our persona
houses divided, picking the poisons of our mind's own divisions!
Prior To Commencing Poem, I Dreamt Contretemps Escalating fusillade...
Galvanized hotheaded idealists (jaded
locals - kindled moderates) nursed
oppressive proletarian quavering riot
spearheading triumphant utopian voice...
whether contrived right here and now,
or purportedly fragmented remnant
occuring during REM sleep
beside the point, asper conjuring atypical
bent arising within mindscape,
sans garden variety *****sapien.
he laments instantaneously forgetting
intricate webbed tapestry comprising
unconscious manifestations nearly every time
reluctantly opening eyes,
whereat realistic landscape within noggin
vanishes without any trace
try as I might to induce recall
asper impressive world within
hydroelectric powered illusory windmills,
despite non cacophonous disruption
i.e. natural awakening processes,
yet for the life of me
after effect bruited
within entire body electric,
hence envisions some contrivance
mebbe mental construct
prior to awakening
to captcha essential details.
Ah...mother lode of ore ridge and hill
elusive material could perhaps yield
adequate money order to pay one bill
alleviating penurious state, so I can chill
without succumbing L'chaim going downhill
fast, especially since monthly social security
taken in toto with more'n
one bitter medication prescription pill
(father's little helper) eases panic/anxiety attacks
plaguing yours truly since...reciting
storybook rhyme 'bout Jack and Jill
argh, how an overdose quite tempting
escaping once and for all where little doth fulfill
me, cuz thankfully individual choice of freewill,
not banned by pro life fanatics,
imagining to wrest free millstone
formerly revolutionary war gristmill
sitting idle (billy me) bidding one final goodwill
to deux daring daughters,
ditto same number twisted sisters mentally ill
papa and bro respectively
understandably justifiably, emotionally deserted
detached baby boomer whole existence a standstill
overly cautious livingsocial,
what...repeating mundanity till...
death, a tragi/comic relief.
Prior to Lasik
I would put on my glasses
Just to hear better
Due depart and so, desire
The rose does not befit the choir
Prior President and Husband
To anyone of you did it recently occur
Either stayed in House or still a Senator
Lacking ability after another ability
While rapidly on their way to senility.
Nomad may be assigned nomenclature
From slim pickings emanated caricature
In their life not knowing what is prevalent
Or friendly fools who have become benevolent.
Has been determined attitude is despicable
Nervous behavior that is highly predictable
Instead of home telling tells that are spun
Maybe for President he should start to run.
Will Rogers theory is one which I will apply
Ain't supposed to find apples in cherry pie
And behind should never leave your pillow
After you have been bare in a bordello.
Message to me from God He recently sent
If pretty and pleasing run for President
While over American herd you are riding
Husband will keep you from back-sliding.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
I live in hell, because I was given a choice,
who ever on earth had the sweetest voice -
Maddy Prior, Sandy Denny, or Jacqui McShee?
The demons rejoice
as in hell, I am bound to forever dangle
deciding,
Steeleye Span, Fairport Convention or Pentangle?
DAWN'S FIRST LIGHT
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
silence at daybreak.
sacred encounter with the Divine,
a conference of heart and soul.
beyond form, beyond language
heart beats, an echo,
a pulse vibrating through the silence.
wordless intent,
unvoiced
yet profoundly clear~
a stirring,
a flicker of grace
captures the dawn.
my soul meets God's pulse
I am led
I am unbound.
soul ascends
Poem written for Prior to Intent Poetry Content, Unseeking Seeker, sponsor, July 30, 2025