Best Proffering Poems
Drive mindfully, dear children, as you traverse hurdled highways of life,
Cognizant that adjacent to an oasis of joy, lies a desert brooding strife;
Assume charge of your chosen path, obey rules of road as you ride,
Pursuing life’s aspirations you vie, with compass of mind as your guide.
Beware things luring you with glitter, may be just metal, feigning gold,
Love superficial, love that is shallow, never the love for you to behold;
Don’t let a mirage~ a spurious illusion~ become an aspiration of hope,
Life, a vast ocean, as it ebbs and flows, learn to navigate, strive to cope.
As shrouds and clouds obscure life, seek enlightenment to wear a smile,
Defy encroachment of grimace, defy the vibes that cramp your style;
Embrace blissed domain of empathy, proffering missives angelic, kind,
Yield to others, who are lost, show them the egress destiny designed.
Build your abode on pillars of morals, revering honesty, and trust,
For they are the hallmarks of people, respectable, equitable, just;
Mind your paradigms and proverbs, practice always what you say,
Extend genuine gestures of regret, when actions have gone astray.
Be grateful for family and friends, honor them in prayers of heart,
Create keepsake albums of memories, life-scapes endearing impart;
For they are the priceless treasures of love, omnipresent lifelong,
Inspiring, nurturing you, reassuring all along~ love can do no wrong.
Perfumed breaths of rosy breeze
In lyrical refrain of redolent winds
Enamoring your pulse of longing
Compose harmonies euphonic
Strumming verses of heartbeats;
When nightingale sings song of eve
As buoyant river rushes to sea,
Giggling stream, greening prairies,
Voicing passions of iridescent spring.
But it is the moon on opal skies
That seduces your dream of dreams,
Proffering aura of esoteric smile
In covert hints of amorous night,
Lauding quest of allure romantic;
Hypnotizing your zealous soul
Ecstatic in my infatuating words
From song of heart rousing passion,
Crooning tender tunes of love
Tiptoeing to become your world.
Hoisting passions fervid, probing celestial height,
Hypnotized we stood, enthralled in smile of June,
Caressing dreams flirtatious of a romantic night,
Reaffirming love, beneath the strawberry moon.
Pulsing beats heavenly, fantasies esoteric chased,
Thrilling realm of love, resonating deep in your heart,
Content in your embrace, as memories intimate traced,
Echoes of promises eternal, forever vows impart.
Seeing you rejoiced, snuggled in my loving arms,
Nary a cloud dared to encumber cerulean skies,
As you navigated sight through opaline sea of stars
Tantalizing flame of passion, sparkling doting eyes,
Having been wooed by mystical glimpse of Luna,
Proffering blush of aura, tantalizing romance,
Bedecking tints orange upon luminous rosy awe
Seducing stance-entranced of enamored glance,
Gazing with throbbing hearts, where desires croon,
Hypnotized we stood, enthralled in smile of June,
Humming melodies, in sync with the celestial tune,
Reaffirming love, beneath the strawberry moon.
Rhythms of pulses echo in souls, augmenting tenor of love song,
Reminiscing in sanctuary of life, together they shared for long;
Yet, memories sadly clamor aloud, since the day she’s been gone,
Of nightmares that cruelly shattered, dreams of their avid dawn.
Her unwritten absence now perturbs in void of the undone, unsaid,
As their unfinished tapestry longs, for stitch of the missing thread;
Vying affluence she delivered, to wealth of their beloved yore,
Steadfastly defying angst that destiny grievously brought to fore.
Unseen, she still occupies, fond yearnings of his moaning heart,
Struggling in her absence, since stealthily she decided to part,
Missing her hypnotizing smile enriching the fervor of her glance,
Nostalgic in embrace of desires, proffering a pledge of romance.
Emptiness haunts him now for misinterpreting clues of silent sighs,
As regrets torment: how long did her smile, hide her desolate cries;
Neither could he sense in her eyes, tacit bawl of love gone awry,
Nor could he decipher from her kiss, subtext of her covert goodbye.
Curtain may fall, music may end; yet allure of real love never dies,
Words of their solemn oath, unwritten absence no longer denies,
For bond of love reinvigorates hearts, tolling eternally as time,
Strumming passion’s sound of music, enamored in love sublime.
Reverence heard, a compassionate sound of solemn word,
Resounds mercy of utmost goodwill, aura-divine spurred,
Performing deeds of beneficence, defying malevolence;
An epistle of angels on earth conferring gift of benevolence.
Such holy angels dwelling among us, are gems quite rare,
Purity of their actions proclaim~ how genuinely they care,
For the destitute, the hapless, caught in throes of despair,
Proffering words of prayer, pleading for hope and welfare.
Messengers of peace, hallowed in zeal of virtuous intention,
Supernal is their magnificence, never yearning attention,
Humble in service to others, dedicated to their missions,
Guiding through life’s hurdles, fulfilling human ambitions.
Inner harmony echoes from voice of their altruistic soul,
Righteous are such missives, sentiments endearing cajole,
Rejecting pessimism of fate in bold pursuit of virtuous goal,
Of kindness, of amity and love, teachings spiritual extol.
Featherless angels, mortals alike us, yet they live on and on,
Worshipped for their pious acts, long after they are gone,
For legacies of ideals devout, profound passions of heart,
For reassurance, inspiration of life, memories now impart.
A dispenser of dishonest vice, a peddler of blatant lies,
In his unscrupulous realms, nobility of truth sadly dies,
Where righteous vibes of morality and decency agonize;
Where benevolence cries, pensive in verity’s demise.
Masked in aura of dubious eyes, spurious is his smile,
Hiding deceptions of his charismatic, charlatan style;
Counterfeit is the profile sporting thrill of knavish devise,
Proffering affectionate gile, spinning webs of disguise.
Empowering hypnotism of an alluring, charming face,
Weaving traps of fanciful tales his adventures chase,
Mesmerizing them; seeking the disheartened as prey,
Bestowing faux lexicons of praise, that brazenly betray.
Broken pledges and vows, now bawl from his burial site,
Deep within remorseful soul, churning anguished fright,
Awakening graveyard of victims in nightmarish night,
Burning effigies of dreams destroyed, feelings contrite.
Be on guard for imposters vying lure of sensual glance,
Beware of tenders, beckoning love, enticing romance,
Beware of mountebank, a swindler~ thievery is his art;
Dedicated lifelong, to mission of stealing innocent heart.
Fear Of The Unknown
That sudden unknown, so unrevealing,
it's the tell-tale trademark of the one in question
as it sets off nerves in every-which-way,
plainly creeping aimlessly neath our epidermis.
Shock-waves traipse, recruiting ghostly minions to crawl hither,
steeping the fleshy folds with squirming eels marinade,
forever slithering downward and chilling our brittle bones,
while simultaneously causing us to gnash our pearly whites.
Until we came upon the realization,
that what had truly manifested itself,
was a self-induced fear that was so absorbing,
it had overwhelmed the mind in consuming anxiety,
losing control of our mental faculties,
proffering it free-will to buildup theoretical obsessions,
and alternate concessions.
2019 November 25
*1st Place*
Goosebumps
~~Delilah Ventura
Quote: The forest is my loyal friend. A Delphic shrine to me.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
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The forest is my sanctuary, a sphere of peace, a realm of solace,
Dwelling in equanimity, conjuring serenity harmonious, flawless;
Where my heart sings, humming hymns, lauding a tranquil place,
Ringing soul’s sacred bells, echoing reverence of Delphic grace.
Zealous vibes of the forest gleam, vying lure of enchanted eyes,
Whether welcoming avid dawns, lifting with aureate sunrise,
Or greeting dreams of rosy-eventide, themes esoteric surmise,
Mesmerized by art of fuchsia motifs, upon sapphire-blue skies.
In this forest often I find, angelic gifts of messengers divine,
Much alike ancient prophecies, emanating from Apollo’s shrine,
Bestowing blessings of Artemis, proffering halo of healing light,
Where I enter edified, enlightened basking in solitude of night.
Whispers-comforting soothe, life’s anguish in tender breeze,
Strumming rhythms of leaves, conversing with sashaying trees,
As tenor of birdsongs reverberates, propagating tunes of glee,
Where animals roam freely, and butterflies chromatic spree.
Living in the moments inspiring, as instincts erudite, spur me on,
Leaving behind travails of past, and memories-wistful of bygone,
Elevating reveries of morrow, yet, reveling in passions of now,
Content I feel, in offerings of life, pleadings benevolent avow.
Eternal feels its timeless domain, ethereal is its cherubic voice,
In company of this selfless friend, mindfully, gratefully I rejoice;
Reflecting on occult, yet, heavenly eloquence luring my mind,
To decode the message of Delphic lexicons, Apollo enshrined.
"Our horses are well-trained and subdued!", blared the stable sign!
That made a lot of horse-sense to me and suited me just fine.
I'm not an equestrian and had never ridden a horse before.
"Not to worry", said he, "you'll soon establish a fine rapport!"
I paid the price agreed and he produced an elegant steed.
Says he, "Why, he's so tame that little kids ride 'im, yes indeed!"
His name was 'Killer' which aroused in me some suspicion,
But I set that aside anxious to get on with my expedition!
I approached the beast with not a little apprehension.
He stood there paying me not the least bit of attention,
'Til I put my foot in the stirrup then he turned his head and stared,
Glared, stomped and snorted with his nostrils fully flared!
At last I managed to climb upon the well-worn western saddle.
The guy slapped Killer's rump and yelled, "Now, y'all skedaddle!"
Off we galloped like a bat out of you know where,
Me holding on with all my might proffering a hasty prayer!
I've flown upside down in planes, done loops and other gyrations,
But that cayuse gave me the wildest ride despite my supplications!
Back at the stable I straightened my back with a visible wince,
And fellers I'm here to tell you, I ain't rode another horse since!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Wild, ecstatic, frivolous roses,
Haphazardly draping in staccato pink
The grassy embankment.
Bubbling, gleeful, like so many corsages
On fresh-faced girls at a
High school prom.
Cheerful, radiant, intricate charms,
Proffering subliminal messages
Of joy and hope rekindled.
He was an enigma, a true one.
His followers see him as religious.
Few people say he was a philosopher.
Some say he was a prophet.
Many prefer to call him a soothsayer.
Yet, others call him a political analyst.
He was all these and many more.
He was not only a musician,
but one with a difference.
Stating his opinions in music form.
Proffering solutions with his songs.
Reaching out to everyone with his lyrics.
He was and still is a role model.
One of only a kind.
If only we had more of him.
If only they had listened to him.
Things would have been different.
But they didn't and things remained.
Fela for many is still what he was.
Eba mi eda is gone but he still lives,
very much in the lives of his admirers.
Those trademark circular elements of style in vogue every four years
When the crème de la crème of the athleticism
presents itself on the world stage
Suspending and transcending any present day internecine conflict
Allowing, enabling, and proffering the five continents
And gathering of top-notch mental, physical and spiritual prowess
Extant with adroit prolific curved arabesques on one corner of the globe
That (like Noah with his Ark kit) human techno wizardry
Bedazzles viewers charting unparalleled feats
Whereby the human body defies the laws of physics and challenges gravity
Fielding a hypnotic colorful tapestry
Whereby the woof and warp of any melancholy moody blue, mellow yellow
Gunmetal green, roman a clef real time red doth white out
The dark knight, temporarily sequestered in a bishopric
Of faux queenly royalty, where a pawn
out the parapet of her castle keep
She imbibes requiem toward protesting the limits of *****sapiens
Inherent parameters, where fluid dynamics
of each most supreme contestant
Sans his/her specialized arena
Further the prior leg holds with free from arm-twisting head lock
And make a mockery of invisible manacles
Purportedly and formerly believed to tether man/woman kind
With unbreakable hidebound genetic/ chromosomal restraints
But nay to those who professed impossibility against the reins
Boxed and fenced in by bow rings set by Mother Nature
Well nigh obsolete and superfluous
What with evident burlesque stellar performances
Leaving the spectators starry eyed with collective mouths agape
As polished prominent performers blithely offset previous milestone
Setting a new yardstick to measure the Olympian capacity
That Heracles and Zeus would most likely deem
as some sort of magic trick
Yet lo, the sensational and majestic pageantry absolutely serious
Lying to rest what used to be merely amateur games
Whereby most any novice could coax a charade, façade, travesty et cetera
Without fear of getting flagged, but phenomenal exhibitors of today
Can nearly bank on netting a truckload of worldly wide wealth
Whereby a hand-made Scottish tartan Harris Tweed welcome mat
Ushers August men and exuding mettle and iron clad dedication
With pomp and circumstance into pantheon of future legends!
Form:
Yes, I remember the day very well,
I left my cave in Cumaea for the palace of Palatine,
the sun was sullen behind a veil of volcanic cloud,
Tarquin, the final king of the Etruscan Romans
was handsome under his crown,
his eyes were lapis lazuli blue, his beard copper gold,
he was patient with a haughty grin,
I was received in the courtyard of the Temple Mars,
the fluted columns were tall as ancient timbers
and the sky was at war with the land,
even then my beauty was robust
I had the contours of Love's funerary vase
my face was fair as unblemished polished marble
my body smelled of exotic spice,
I came before the king
with business on my breath,
I was proffering my books of prophecy
like a witch who wastes no wonder
in the selling of spells to those suspicious of good and evil,
randomly, as fate can seem to be,
I picked and plucked verses
like wild irises and roses
hoping to enchant Tarquin's tastes
for that which may or may not be,
and although allured by the future on my lips
he scoffed at the price I persisted,
and each time he dared scoff
I threw another album on the fire,
as the ashes of my prophecy
flew quick and quiet all about
I deigned to read one more
which his heart could not refuse
to which he paid me the original price
before two thirds had burned,
For he who wears the inheritance of thorns
the keys of God he holds in palms...
J.A.B.
It's "The Children's Hour," as Franklin Delano
dubbed it, proffering that famous profile, chin high,
cigarette holder clinched in good dental symmetry,
all the while flashing that celebrated smile. He'd "Walk
a Mile for a Camel," (or the Secret Service would)
while steering us through war, the Great Depression,
and a desert of dry times, not to mention wines,
until he repealed Prohibition, restored civility
and White House Happy Hour to the post meridian.
Scotch or Brandy, his choice; mine, Chardonnay
from Argentina, gaucho land of Peron and his Eva who
demonstrated beauty and brains can survive
in the same body: soul sister to Jayne Mansfield,
hiding her IQ beneath a double-D cup. So, Bottoms up,
children, let the games begin! What'll you have?
Scotch on the Rocks, whiskey or gin? A martini with
two olives, one for you and one for your baby?
Or several of those sweet ones that deck you,
wreck you--three strikes and you're out under
apple, cranberry, or lemon-lime lightning?
Come sip with me for cocktails and a concerto
in my backyard, where afternoon wind wields a baton
for sopranos in the pines, the marsh-myrtle's alto,
and the fig's bellowing bass, empurpled and powerful.
He wouldn't have it any other way: I'm THAT deep,
he rails, wind's in my sails, and you, chattering
children should be practicing your scales.
I stand like roses
Wilted in despair,
Lost in the station
Of life giving breath
As tragedy strikes
And strips my soul bare;
I walk as I talk
My life's living death.
Now God's will, be done,
I hope to endure,
By proffering poems
At all common marts
Or tout to the crowd
My latest sure cure
For illness acquired
From faded old tarts.
Yes I cast false pride
A way to survive,
A belly once starved
Shall sweat for a feast;
Though hard is my heart
Still beating to thrive
I walk with beauty
Not crawl with the beast.
I've carried my cross
Down dusty old roads
Crossed pastures of dung
With sharp bladed fence;
I've carried my share
Of heaviest loads
Guilelessly gifted
My own common sense.
Watched the grand falcons
In clear lofty air,
As silent they glide
Past steep mountain height;
Caught the golden tresses
Of God's braided hair;
Sanctified meadows
As eagles took flight.
Passionate vipers
Still feed me, indeed!
Yet, in my honor,
I've burst through the bars.
Tasted temptation
From sin's fertile seed;
And Loved with a love
That moved Sun and Stars