Best Propitious Poems
Had a room been open in that passageway
as a foreign night-ship, you’d have sailed by
Love would’ve been what? I couldn’t say
Life: an inveterate humid ply____________
Perhaps has passed with its pernicious waves
Acceptance rising like ocean’s eustacy
Sometimes, perfunctory was a skin-cut shave
So much more, was propitious ecstasy~~~~~
Parts of us shall never be contrite
As connoisseurs of our own fate, we played
Rage now mostly contrived in dying spite
though candid caustic thoughts can still prey…
Passion!
Our ultimate perfidy
Passion!
We should've kept astute custody.
6/29/2021
To all the poets near and far
Alive and well or beyond the stars,
I bid you peace, I bid you rest,
I bid you all the very best.
Life and death may er’ contain
All the fruits of love and rain,
Showered down upon you all:
Promethean poets, great and small.
Long before we learned to write
But felt inside that burning light,
To share all thoughts, hopes, sadness, dreams
Propitious poets bear it all it seems.
From long ago and far away
And right up through this very day,
Countless came and left their mark
And we too, shall make a lasting spark.
Perhaps a mere morsel, a line or two
That lands upon a mind imbued,
With someone who like you or me
Finds sublimity in words like these.
Though words are not real things we touch
Like rivers, rocks, seashells and such,
But point the way back deep inside
Where memories last and love abides.
But I for one am smaller yet
Then everyone I’ve ever met,
Who picked up paper, pen or quill
And found their calling in the still
Of quiet nights and early morns
Waiting for ideas unborn,
From spirits sweet and dewdrops soft
I bid you all good thoughts aloft.
© Terrell Martin, 02/21/2025
Tribulation always has been in the world!!
You can literally choose to rise above it.
Ever notice,there is agreement how
terrible life is, in a dark, black swirl?
Well, then, what are you going to do about it?
Dare to express joy or peace, my friend?
Your friends will send you emails about
how the sky is falling.
You, yes you, determines your joy that never ends.
As a poet, to lift souls, is a most divine, propitious calling,
Mind clutter as delivered by the media?
Endless, evil, totally soul destroying,
We are the ones listening rabidly to all
this, searching for life's answers in Google or Wikipedia?
Turn off the news,and discover life is still incredibly beautiful
and spiritually, quite soul- buoying!
Oh, do create miracles for others right now!
Do not crush souls, by being a negative media twin!
It's on our power as poets to lift souls
out of the mud, with the Spirit of Light, somehow!
July 22, 2020
Under last propitious auspices of a half-moon sky
swaying within lingering notes slipping slowly away
tepid eyes gaze adrift misted
over a still sea imagining
two silhouettes dancing arm in arm
across distant shores and distant memories.
Gasps gentle gasps holding breaths
in meaningful moments
where faraway stars illuminate fantasy
and gracefully glide on every breeze
the notes of a rising tomorrow join hands
with the keys from a fading yesterday
forming everlasting echoes in my mind
It was no propitious day it seemed
The misty rain overlong prevailed
A feeble sun, time to time had gleamed
Through vaporous clouds on landscape veiled
I made my farewells to friends no more
And took to the streets now dark and damp
My life uncertain no pathway sure
I lingered under a dim street lamp
That instant saw it would all be right
24 September 2019
Kindheartedness is being quite generous
A considerate attitude that is from the inside
No price tag is placed on being accommodating
Being benevolent and affectionate is cordial
Willing to give everything for nothing in return.
A trait that is not always an inherited tendency
One to be heartily imbibed and truly developed
A behaviour that stands one out in the crowd
Exhibiting true amiable and amicable qualities
Portraying brotherly,sisterly,fatherly & motherly love.
When you are humane and quite propitious
They say you are beneficient and philanthropic
When you are soft-hearted or tender-hearted
They talk of you as being thoughtful & understanding
You are a bounteous bonhomie & benign personality.
Exuding a calid courteous and altrustic aura
Places you on a pedestal different from others
Extraneous factors may want to impede on you
The propensity of your kindheartedness surpasses
Showcasing your nature as an outstanding being.
Propitious is Auspicious
---------------------------
Could it be ?, as the road doth beckon.
Not likely to ever be again, I do reckon
I will not likely again, know that glory.
Never again be able to write that story.
Of a time, when a young man’s heart turns,
his soul, in transition, constantly yearns
as his spirit, on fire, reaches out, it burns
to the ground, nothing left, that concerns
humanity, in its indifference to life,
it’s journey and that road, rife
with so many great adventures gone wild
in the hands of Mother Nature’s child.
B. J. “A” 2
May 4th 2015
In this sweet little pig pen
Walls that once were friends
And bold shields
For lounge room warriors
Now barricade
Detain indefinitely, denying
Beyond them imaginings
For ravenous captives
With restless longing and fears
Choose now the door
Indulgence to ruin, or
Patience to pride
An unforgiving master waits
With bitter destinies to navigate
Seize propitious offerings
Fleeing these halls
To uncertain fate
Courage now, groomed in isolation
Seclusion of rooms
No longer resting places.
A hush fell o'er the Little Kirk Presbyterian Congregation,
Anticipating the annual Sunday School Christmas presentation.
The solemn flock, (usually obsessed with predestination),
Relaxed in their pews to enjoy Jesus' birthday celebration!
For weeks, moms had fashioned halos, stars and angels' wings,
Also, beards, crowns and robes for the trio of royal kings.
Over and over, harried teachers rehearsed the little dears.
This promised to be the smoothest pageant production in years!
Alas, things didn't go as conceived from the very start!
Kids bawled for Mom and Dad while others forgot their part!
Tho' Cindy Lou could at times be quite the prima donna,
She was chosen to star in the role of Mary the Madonna.
Little angels hovered about, their wings all askew.
The shepherds milled about not knowing what to do.
Joseph toyed with the Jesus doll and it cried, "I want my mama!"
Causing parishioners to titter, detracting from the drama!
The pastor read the Christmas Story from the account in Luke.
The kids harmonized on "Away in the Manger", a propitious fluke!
They portrayed the Christmas Miracle, despite some serious flaws,
And for their efforts received a standing round of applause!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
I am a tiny winged buzzing insect
A friend to folks and flowers alike
Another name for hard work
Toiling untiring from dawn to dusk
I set out merry, humming a tune,
On my professed mission of gathering honey
The flowers freshly bathed in dew
Eagerly await my propitious visit
I like to flit from flower to flower
I love dallying with floral beauties
Gladiolus, Chrysanthemums and Petunias
Red geraniums and colorful Zinniahs
But I prefer to hover over clustered blooms
Which hang from trees’ stooping boughs
From each flower I sup to my fill
And my body gets covered in yellow dust
I don’t believe in the Epicurean dictum
Of ‘Eat, drink and be merry’
Neither do I live just for today
I await a future that is trouble free
We work tireless till the day is done
And see that every cell of our hive is full
We never complain of those among us
Who stay idle and thrive on our labor
Never grumble against the privileged Queen
Who enjoys unique status with rights many
For we respect the Nature-ordained hierarchy
As we know, a mob without a leader would be anarchy
Bee Creative Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Matt Caliri
Placed First
23. Jan. 2022
For Strand’s (1058) Poetry Contest
Sponsor – Brian Strand
91
91
CharlaXFabels
23Skeedo
This is a cliché. That's my name for an old aside or an adage here we go into the
world of CharlaXFabels once more gentle reader ewe 23 Skeedo. 23 skidoo
(phrase)
23 skidoo is an American phrase popularized in the early twentieth century, first
appearing before WWI and becoming popular in the Roaring Twenties. It
generally refers to leaving quickly, being forced to leave quickly by someone else
or taking advantage of a propitious opportunity to leave, that is, "getting [out] while
the getting's good."
23 skidoo has been described as "perhaps the first truly national fad expression
and one of the most popular fad expressions to appear in the U.S," to the extent
that "Pennants and arm-bands at shore resorts, parks, and county fairs bore
either [23] or the word 'Skiddoo.'"
The exact origin of the phrase is uncertain. PHRASE. OH. Okay today we learn
some old phrasers YOCK YOCK YUCK. All Wet - describes an erroneous idea or
individual, as in, "he's all wet." This works better if you can remember the ABBOT
bud and Costello lou he said an aweful lot of these phrases as everyday
wordage. Abbott: Well Costello, I'm going to New York with you. You know Harris,
the Yankee's manager, gave me a job as coach for as long as you're on the
team. Costello: Look Abbott, if you're the coach, you must know all the players.
Abbott: I certainly do. Costello: Well you know I've never met the guys. So you'll
have to tell me their names, and then I'll know who's playing on the team. Abbott:
Oh, I'll tell you their names, but you know it seems to me they give these ball
players now-a-days very peculiar names. Costello: You mean funny names?
Abbott: Strange names, pet names...like Dizzy Dean Costello: His brother Daffy.
Abbott: Daffy Dean...Costello: And their French cousin. Abbott: French? Costello:
Goofè. Abbott: Goofè Dean. Well, let's see, we have on the bags, Who's on first,
What's on second, I Don't Know is on third...Costello: That's what I want to find
out. Abbott: What? Costello: I said I don't give a darn! Abbott: Oh, that's our
shortstop.
http://www.baseball-almanac.com/humor4.shtml
Singing Song
The song that wakes my heart today,
Was song that blew my mind away.
Long before now I must say,
That’s song; I’ve long for days.
But I’ve never been propitious
To storm a solo so auspicious
Like this very one source
Which by thought, he’s success.
This song is an inspiration of its own.
That the composer and performers,
Were not, in their looks and steps,
Very easy with this stunning stunner.
Avalanche of exaltation and extolment
Of the Divine, the Architect and the Seer,
Were in whole, parts of this cadence,
That raised roofs by sparks of thunder.
This song, oh, is beautiful,
That the angels heard and came to town.
For the creator I learnt was heal,
When he penned this enchanting down.
True to God who made me,
Have never found handsome lyrics as his.
For no matter realm the originator was,
Would love a tete-a-tete with him or his.
For the blessings his ink had dropped,
Is a hold of more than thousand years
Oh, you the faithful, this drop;
Embedded verses that dry plenteous tears.
The song that wakes my heart today,
Was song that blew my mind away.
Long before now I must say,
That’s song; I’ve long for days.
But I’ve never been propitious
To storm a solo so auspicious
Like this very one source
Which by thought, he’s success.
This song is an inspiration of its own:
Avalanche of exaltation and extolment,
That raises roofs by sparks of thunder.
This song, oh, is beautiful.
True to God who made me,
Would love a tete-a-tete with him or his.
For the blessings his ink had dropped,
Embedded verses that dry plenteous tears.
This song that wakes my heart today,
Was song that blew my mind away.
Long before now I must say,
That’s song; I’ve long for days.
But I’ve never been propitious
To storm a solo so auspicious
Like this very one source
Which by thought, he’s success.
Oh, you the faithful!
This hold more than thousand years:
Avalanche of exaltation and enrollment
Of the Divine, the Architect and the Seer.
True to God who made me,
Have never found handsome lyrics as his.
For no matter realm the originator was,
Would love a tete-a-tete with him or his.
14/3/1434 ___15/1/2014
©Abdulhafeez Oyewole.
we poets are waiting for the moonset
sitting on my balcony, evolutions shamans
now wandering the beach
we are solving every social ill
while walking Blake's path of excess
to some palace of wisdom
this sojourn has but one worry
the hour the liquor store closes
less the worry here, shamans open doors
money, lycanthropy meandering the beach
a ramada where we wake the proprietor
who finds such occurrences propitious
vending beer, most cultures' insanity is sacrosanct
the moon is waning into the ocean
to Bach's Toccata and Fugue
we are singing Eddie Arnold's cattle call
while the other horizon eructs
red-orange warnings poets love to ignore
evanescent crescendos
write something every day, i am not that bored
the sleep never begun is over
quart bottles cover the table
our proprietor lies in the Land of Nod
poets of Laputa, self-serving pataphysicians
the bench is strewn with the problems of Gulliver
La Senora arrives, shift changes, orders breakfast
and this proceeds until siesta time
the repairing of every social ill
retiring into respective hammocks
we are philosophers, possess our epigrams
no siesta, no fiesta, tomorrow i swear
a new and improved version
the beach is safe now
for white bucks scribbling in the sand
while our feet are beyond and supine
covered with flies, killing us
did not the Beats do this
San Blas 91 The Patient Stones
Thank
You
Poets and
Poetess
For encouraging
Words during the pass through the storm
Beholding a reborn point of view of life setbacks
Ascertaining that propitious and gloomy moments encompass growing purposes
4-28-2016
Something lugubrious lies lurking
Inside every human being,
Preventing us from reaching
Our propitious potential.
It follows us from cradle to grave
Leaving no one unscathed
In the ever-present shadows of moral dilemmas
Within the cavernous reaches of our hearts and minds.
We struggle unceasingly with this tug-of war
Between wrong and right,
Darkness and light
And occasionally, get lost in the battle.
We do what we can to follow
Whatever religiously worshipful upbringing we learned,
Hoping that we won’t wallow
In oceans of mental mud
Or get burned.
And so we listen
To that still small voice inside
That tries so hard to rise
Above all the muck, mire and desires
Laid out before us
To follow the narrow path up
The mountain of purposeful possibilities.
Never quite reaching the peak
Of morale perfection, however,
We tend to stumble and bumble our ways around
Giving in to nature’s temptations
In multitudinous ways
By allowing our inherent weaknesses
To take control of our destiny.
Some call it sin but then again,
It may be we’re still learning to live.
Because life is no game
And neither is shame
When we’re trying so hard
To give.