Best Provoked 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.
My cherished one...
Here I am ,alone with stone wall paper
in the silence of my room.
The pit-pattering raindrops upon my windowsill
help me to remember, outside is cold and vacant too.
Here I lay , on my dark brown couch
like on other nights and many afternoons.
Here I stay ,undisturbed ,with a pen in my left hand
Provoked to put black ink to paper
Seduced to write down unconscious thoughts
Terminal thoughts and deepest aches
wrapped in the echo of your absence.
If only you 'd knew , my rose was not seasonal
Its crimson still bleeds ,like in yesterdays , now gone.
Its perfume still lingers between forgotten postcards
and the impossibility of separation.
Its petals once blown , still float across the boundless ocean
The same ocean that moves ,that spreads breathlessly
between our lands , our lips and hands, but not our hearts
Nor the hundred fantasies that still reveal your footprints
along my distant winding paths .
Inspired by Adele's latest song - 'Hello '
Looking down my tree lined street
the setting sun casts her glow
upon the Chestnuts, Maples, and Oaks
dressed in worn out yellow ribbons
telling the story of friendship and loss
strength and courage.
How there was hope and there were dreams.
That life wouldn't pull us apart.
There was community and passion
and smiles each time you went through that revolving door.
We prayed, yes we prayed for us that we wouldn't lose you
that we wouldn't be missing someone so true.
I raise my head up to the skies
washing away a lingering tearful cry
and remember ....
Your amiable soul, dynamic, invincible and unique
Your stupendous dose of humor, indulging, infectious and unstoppable.
Your enthusiasm to give, to share, and your boundless care
Your friendship, a treasure trove of trust worth.
Wherever you were, there was harmony, and a breath of fresh air
You were a friend, who never postponed one minute of life
You used every minute to fill ours with joy
I raise my head high and remember
i remember the moment my laughter died
that moment when I asked why
Why are the good, the chosen ones, to suffer for others 'evil
Why do they go first, why do they die young
Why are they now far, so far ?
In that moment of helplessness and doubt
In that moment when faith was provoked
I cried like a child, I didn t need another hero,
I just wanted my friend back
I wanted him so bad to be near, to survive
Once again I raised my head,
I got lost in the sky,
And I swear I saw him with these eyes
And I swear, I heard him with these ears
He said, 'Death is not for the living, I am so much alive '
Then, it was night !
I raised up my head, and a luminous star lit
my once darkened sky with warm breezing light.
You thought you had me figured out
Before you knew my name
Cause you're you and you're unsatisfied
That I am not the same
You'll never change the way I love
And you can fight for you're dominion
But I'm worth a million times the weight
Of a dogmatist's opinion
I know that all that you can see
Is a stereotype of me
All that you thought I'd ever be
Is a stereotype of me
Did you ever think that you could see me
Past the prejudice you hold
I'm not the picture you created
I'm not the things that you were told
You're voice is long since dead to me
I won't even be provoked
When it hurt you to see me smile
The things you said went up in smoke
I know that all that you can see
Is a stereotype of me
All that you thought I'd ever be
Is a stereotype of me
By: Kyle Ezra Kriticos
My poetry garden of late has lain untended and forlorn.
I succumbed to shock and dismay upon entering recently, for I observed that
great disagreement had erupted and now vehemently
raged among adjoining unmade weed-filled beds of subjects and verbs.
Modifiers that had been dutifully arranged and carefully
kept in check upon their trellises now dangled everywhere.
Sentences had spilled out of their beds in fragments or running
on and on while cases of subjectives and objectives shamelessly
intermingled and were now easily mistaken one for another.
Grammar, whose care I had entrusted to first, second and third
persons, lay in shameless disarray, as if no one could tell the difference.
Gerunds casually consorted with infinitives, many
of which had split. I recalled with a sigh how many years it had taken
me to tightly bind them. [To bind them tightly is what I meant.]
Commas were everywhere, rendering those in appropriate
position practically unrecognizable, which I suppose was better than
what had happened to the capitals, now completely ignored.
No reason for the rhyme with forms confused or misplaced altogether.
My lines, unpruned, were of disparate length and hideously incompl
An unfortunate mis-spell had been cast and provoked an infestation,
such that many of my friends had departed without comment.
The contest entry was blocked, so I bowed my head in shame,
turned around and shuffled silently through the exit marked N/A.
Posted July 24, 2014
'Let the Pens Flow - Narrative' Contest
Jenish Somadas
His narrow eyes, misguided lies
Misguide his narrow plan,
To cleanse the world from demons, he
Was called The Preacher Man.
“I see no proof, I hear no truth!
Your science is a sin!
You’ll burn in hell if you rebel
And let the Devil win!”
The Preacher Man then took a stand
To convert the sinners by the hand
“You’ll see the Lord you’ll praise the Lord!
You’ll follow blindly Christ the Lord!”
The more he chased, the more they ran
From him, The Preacher Man.
Leviticus was hideous
To the innocent righteous folk
“The fags all shalt be stoned to death!” (Lev 20:13)
The terror he provoked.
His crucifix read “Six six six”
The people use to claim
He’d always clutch on to a crutch
To get him through his pain
His acid tongue and Sabbath stung
With nails through his hands he hung
“My sacrifice is worth the price,
For council in the Lord’s advice!”
His rapture soon began
That beast, The Preacher Man.
His leather book of horror shook
The children to their knees
“Dash the babies against the rocks (Psalm 137:9)
And hang them from the trees!” (Joshua 10:26)
From town to town he went around
Proclaiming he could heal
“The pain of grace upon your face!”
(His wallet was concealed.)
So lock your doors and hide what’s yours
Protect your children from the w----
“I’m commin’ for you, I’m gunnin’ for you!
I’ll say that I’ve been pray’n for you!”
His ministry infests the land
He’s called The Preacher Man.
In a room that once commanded great respect,
stage lights began to hiss with heated anticipation.
There were sounds of alcohol infused rumblings
and laughter rolling through the rows of seats
from the tongues of young fancies whose foibles
await the reverence paid to tales that may last
a lifetime.
A baritone voice boomed in imposing prominence
that demanded attention. With such articulation,
trained by years of experience spent in circus tents
and speakeasies, the once proud barker's monologue
cracked from age and fifty years of bad whisky.
He had a past filled with evil deeds and dashed hopes,
but on he stumbled as the introduction to tonight's
show surged from his lips.
A young lady emerged mid-stage from behind a curtain.
A single spotlight bathed her every titillation,
perfectly choregraphed to a pulsing rhythm.
All eyes were fixated as imaginations were provoked
beyond reality. The white feathers of her costume
teased senses and libidos raged while she strutted,
ending with a peek that would even give a preacher
reason to pause.
As the lights dimmed and the cat calls subsided,
backstage an old women picked up her broom and slumped
upon a stool. A tear fell, caressing her weathered cheek.
Breathless, after performing the dance she'd practiced
a thousand times, the young women took her final
curtain call to an uproarious standing ovation.
As she dashed toward the dressing room,
the old woman rose from her stool and the two embraced.
The joyful exuberance was that of a child at Christmas.
Her voice cracked as she exclaimed,
"I haven't felt this alive .
in fifty years!
"My dear sister, may I wear this enchanted costume
again after your next show?" "May I, May I,"
the young girl implored.
"Of course", the old woman replied,
"twins share everything."
C.W.S.
03/25/2020
On better days, On better nights
before wide blue yonder
turned into a black widow spider
Have we met , Have we painted a blank canvas
Have We shared the same pallette
Have We danced to the tango vals of words
through soft tangerine haze
that hoovered gently , slowly
Outside my windowpane.
I could swear you were here.
Like an unsettled moon I blushed at your sight
Stars glistened just because I watched you smile.
Pastel Fresia washed my empty sheets
with fragrance Sweet and mild
I nestled in your arms like an embarrassed child.
But ... But then I turned my face away
I closed my eyes to sleep
I drifted with the wind that billowed far from dreams.
Reality hit hard . A stranger was and still to be
Naked of identity, sinking in your silence
Suspense and mystery.
Struggling in a prison too scared to be set free.
Too weak to show emotion
too strong to heal and feel.
On better days, On better nights
before wide blue yonder
turned into a black widow spider
Have We met , Have We provoked the spaces
Have We walked hand in hand
Did We create moments so hard to forget
Or do We live the memory that whispers
No regrets ! ! !
Inspired by an oldie song 'Feelings '
**
T~ This is for all the great master poets of art.
H~ Having the skills, the words, and the smarts.
E~ Emotions you've captured, the thoughts you provoked.
P~ Pouring your heart out with a pen in your hand,
O~ Orchestrating your words like no one can.
E~ Elizabeth Browning, Dickinson, Shakespeare, and Poe,
T~ Twain and Frost - these great ones you know.
R~ Reflecting on their works, that have brought us to tears.
Y~ Yes, yearning for more, we felt all their fears.
M~ Masterfully crafted their words - they can fool,
A~ An artist on paper, their pen is their tool.
S~ Strategy, playing with rhythm and rhymes,
T~ Touching our hearts and enriching our minds.
E~ Experts and masters, their poems live on.
R ~Reflecting on your memory now that you're gone.
S~ So, thanks for your poetry. I leave with this thought, "How do I love
thee?" *
Acrostic ~ Rhyme
4 - 19 / revised - 4-4-22
* How Do I Love Thee? is a Sonnet
written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Acrostic Poetry Contest ~ 4/19
Sponsored by: Family Friend Poems
~ 1st ~
The month of April is designated as National Poetry Month.
This poem was written in honor of well-known poets.
I cried Why? Maybe it is because no one understands me.
Doesn't stop to listen to my thoughts. Cares less
about my presence to the naked eye. Doesn't Care.
I cried Why? Maybe it is because they are too intrusive being
happy with their lives. Because I smile a lot and I am
not provoked at all by anyone. Doesn't mind.
I cried Why? Because of my concealed past that I cannot share.
I am unsatisfied with me and who I am. Sulking
feels better to me than laughing. Hates the world.
I cried Why? No one is there for me. I do not want to be figured
out. Trying means nothing to me, I am not going to become
flawless in any way. Love is gone.
I cried Why? My questions are unanswered. Invisibility describes
me. Caring deprives me. Interest excites me. Loneliness
surrounds me. Is left alone.
I cried Because it frees my mixed emotions. Tears are the only
thing that seem to understand, comfort and help me
become stronger, wiser and much more of a secret.
I smile In the end when I fool others into believing that it is
all okay. It is the only thing that will satisfy me.. well
at least for now.
Rebecca C*
I rose not like flower or like tree
Not like eagle's hubris in the sun
Old skin shed in the divided city
Last clone of a manhood almost done
And so I tasted the salt that lingered in blood
When the sea was pushed to the edge
And the land was wet and squirming in mud
I was in the litter of its self-knowledge
I know my city better now, where met
The passions of my birth, life is beautiful
But shallow here, much to regret and forget
But I will exhume me from the bountiful
Shallowness and litter, I will my heart
To the silent stars and write my life
In words of truth. Montego Bay, let me start
In you, the doldrums where the fear was rife.
It was not the wind, but the fire that sent
My mother descending through smoke of tears
Along the pavement hard without lament
And her three children pined at crowded stairs
My brother was swallowed by the city's mire
My sister's drug was her desire, she called
Eight from her flesh to mother's feast of prayer
Thank you God for your mercies that enthralled
That's context now, while I bleat my life
From the ghetto's battlefield to stable and school
Something provoked my hunger and strife
Something led like a pen along the edge of a rule
For I have smelled the cordite fumes of death
And the magic scent of ganja on slum night air
I from school have fled and gasped for breath
Along a street where splintered blood appeared
So I dispense this news for you struggling child
Wriggling sand to walk out of my burning shoes
Soon I shall strip away the mask pile by pile
Promise you will dance, dance slowly to my blues
I give you more than wax feathers for the sun
For old Sisyphus by labor endless was worn down
And did not see the rise sinking to the run
In each man's failure another man's victory abound.
Somewhere in the pretty petty imaginary illusion of delusion
There lies a truth an edifice of search between obtuse confusion
Windows like brick walls and concrete blocks birthing the light
Nails to be nailed screws to be screwed with monumental sight
A life a building fortress sand castle beach hut nutter’s dream
Maybe a prison with towers barbed wire fences mindful scream
Some multi storied paradise no choke on apple’s stem or core
No passion fruit in torture chambers shackles behind and to the fore
No hidden attic and no cellar no stellar fantasy no quick descent
For now simply one dimension deserted plain hopes to ferment
Scraping no skies a cave hovel card board box a bombed out grave
Nothing to hold onto no graces left spent and ravished naught to save
Is it magic thought provoked delusion of illusion alluded distortion
Who knows does it matter I suppose it does in incomplete reapportion
Some are born in a manger on the fields of labour some with a silver spoon
Surely some would rather have foundations a ceiling not some lonely moon
Get me not wrong as singing the praises of romantic poverty and dearth
Icy cold and freezing bones do not bear up to sound safe privilege in birth
Yet from the scraping nib and luxury of pen in hand and philosophic mind
Not wishing to lack compassion nor cementing over cracks so misaligned
We are the builders of our lives to some extent despite the vagaries so vast
Can we find a staircase upwards some sliding pole to reach out for the past
In such compassion regardless of painful structures and abandoned need
Is some notion some motion of change and nourishment star dust to feed
In God we trust nihilism architecture Karma fate Nirvana hard core grind?
No valid answers but questions loving search for quiet mindfulness in kind
In some distant valley,on a mountain's peak
Sat a girl with arms around her knees
Had anyone ever seen her so petrified?
Something he provoked seemed to die
She stared at horizon,shuddered in cold
Her heart was so tired and grown too old
One after another,she dropped a tear
Her soul was screaming but he couldn't hear
Then for once,she admired the settling sky;
The dark and distressed clouds just moved by
It was so lovely,so beautiful to be cleared;
Imprisoned by her thoughts,she too wished to be spared
The orange,the blues had mingled into one soul,
So many delights made the horizon whole
The unknown territories had mixed into a blessing
But moon and stars were the only one messing
She loathed the sight of night covering by
Her heart and horizon were still in a dive
She needed light to think,to reveal
The presence of love might let her heal
The horizon decided to end this show,
It took her breath away to see it go
The horizon had stolen away her answers
And moon and stars were the only left dancers
She stared at the sky and the moon shined in her face,
It was so bright and elated,it beheld her beloved's grace
The moon was the only one watching her cry:
Should she give up and let her feelings die?
The moon seemed infuriated at her strange thoughts,
Clouds had came in and moon had refuge sought
She felt dejected,neglected and pained;
It reminded her of her beloved who nearly did the same
She had been abandoned as if she's lied
And then she was told that no explanations were required
No answers to questions;Did he love her or not?
Just at that moment moon had subject bought
Shining at her face,it told her a story
The clouds have moved away as if it was her glory:
"Wait my love until I reach the skies,
Keep your love strong and don't let it die"
"Dreams and victories are not made of clay;
They don't serve you success in some golden tray"
It was the voice of her love,she knew by heart
Without any horizon,she now knew where to start
Even if earth turns black and blue,
She would love him with a heart very true
Nothing would set them apart,
Because even the distant moon's light never dart
Said the Chipmunk to the Hawk
Said scared, little, tail-striped chipmunk to red-tailed hawk,
“I am hidden over there where you will not find me.”
Said hawk in a swoop to another branch, “Jiggle that
tail again, so I’ll dive and sweep you off to heaven!”
Crouching as flat to the earth as she could be, chip-
munk said, “But I am already there where all points
of heaven reveal bliss...” which did perplex red-tail hawk,
who gawked up, then scanned all around for
some clue of heaven in this forest he knew he knew,
as she provoked, “You see?” But with his instincts
darting everywhere, hawk replied, “You lie! You
make riddles of my threat!” To which she flashed to
the opening of her tunnel, quick as light, calling,
“Heaven does contrive for good in life!” Hawk
affirmed a new place of some prey and turned.
Was he not made to hunt? Not for dramas like this?
Hawk bent over his feet, lifted his wings into flight
aimed at rustling leaves not far away. Hawk, while in
his flash, asked his forest, “Heaven, does it spread
as far as over there where I go?” Forest said, “No know,
no.” Hawk did not understand...In her tunnel, chip-
munk dropped two acorns from her cheeks to eat.
————————————————————————————————————
(c) sally Young eslinger 2/2021
I watch the tears fall from your eyes, but then why am I mad? …This is the day I was
told about, they said I’d be happy, blissful, content, and victorious, so then why am I
sad…
Man, today I met a new side of me, I learned you could confide in me, and know that
your secrets are safe with inside of me, trying to weaken the soul that lies in thee,
but my heart is as wide as the sea. And I’m stronger than I ever thought I could be,
because I learned to forgive YOU, and to love ME!
So I wipe your tears and ask myself where is your strength… the strength that kept
me in complete darkness, provoked words of cold harshness, the times I CRIED and
YOU acted heartless, I let you guide me as though you were my compass, but you
chose to destroy me and feed off my weakness, leaving me to pick up the pieces and
tidy your mess. So if you’re wondering if I feel your pain, my answer is yes!
The pain you feel was a place I once resided in, so my only words of wisdom is take
this as life’s lesson, learn that things happen for a reason, ppl we think we know
change like the season, learn to fight your daemon. Don’t let this be a rerun, don’t let
your soul get beaten, train your mind not to weaken, don’t wallow in your sorrows,
forgive and forget and your life will sweeten……mines did!
I did, I moved on, forgave and forgot, and in turn I am grateful for all that I got. Road
out the waves, rolled with the punches, built back my strength, my emotions and
senses, brushed myself off when you threw me in the trenches. Drowned my
sorrows, faced all my stresses. And at the end of it all I made a few pledges.
I pledge to love me and put myself first, love me through hard times, down to my
worst. I pledge to forgive, we all make mistakes, I pledge to succeed and do
whatever it takes. Avoid all the foes, follies and fakes. Avoid stepping on skins of all
cobras and snakes. I shall not conform to gossiping and sin, because despite what
I’ve been through I choose to win. Do good on to others, be kind, be true, and your
hardship will cease, your sorrows will be few. Now wipe the tears from your eyes,
cuz you finally paid your due. You can run and you can hide but karma will always find
you!