Best Publishers Poems
Oceana
Oceana flings her sequined petticoats
Upon the sands as if to toss the seaweed
From the swirling edges
While she dances with the wind
With each turn she swings her skirts
In thunder
As she passes – faster, faster -
Until her laughter foams upon the waves
And in the early midnight dawns
She turns to cover up
Her turquoise evening gown
With capes of fog so thick
The soaring gulls seem to carry
This her summer train
To quickly change into a dress of silver satin,
Bound with trims of frothy sprays,
Rising and swelling,
When morning reaches for windy afternoons,
She teases sudden lightning outbursts
Leaving behind upon the outstretched strands
A foaming lace of pearls
That decorate her new rippling dress
Of brilliant sapphire blue
Drawing it around the world in flowing currents
To follow, ever follow, the lilting music
Of her lover moon,
Softly singing enchanted melodies,
Ever beckoning his earthbound bride unto himself
To watch her gaily waltz upon the rolling seas
Circling to his rune.
8-22-25
3rd - Rob Carmack Premiere VIII
6-29-22 - N/A
Contest: Marathon Mile Five
Sponsor: Mark Toney
8-13-22 -
5th - Poetry Marathon Mile 12
Sponsor: Mark Toney
6/20/19
On Top 100 All Time Poems list
1st - Trophy Win - Juliet Lingon
1st - Julia Ward 11/29/20
1st - Brian Strand 1/14/20
Featured Poem 5/2/21
Included in Poetry Soup Anthology #2 - It's Still Poetry
Included in CWC Anthology - First Prize Winner Independent Publishers Award
Indie Press Awards
She sneaked into the pantry, tender steps came from behind
His charismatic twinkle took her heart completely by surprise
And in a speck of time, a secret kiss to follow
As fate joined them together, forever in tomorrow
Through the years she won't forget the day he called her near
To tell her that he'd written a song that only she would hear
Timeless is the butterfly-and goes where we know not-
As fleeting chance encounters create a solid bond
His timely passing left her hollow
Now gripped with grief she struggles to swallow
And always returns to haunt her again
To go on alone, her free will had chosen
Now and then she whispers, but only to herself
That somewhere in another time
He'll complete the songs he left behind
On the pantry shelf
Written by Karen Anglesey
Published in Theatre of the Mind
Noble House Publishers/Individual Copyright holders/2003
He learned the trade of punchin' cows
An' silence of the men
He was alone but so were they
Not like it was back then
Not like the days of sweepin' floors
In brothels and the bars
An orphan lookin' for a meal
An' washin' whisky jars
Now he crossed the plains wide and free
An' saw the mountains rise
It was almost, almost enough
'Til he recalled her eyes
She'd been sixteen an' so had he
They didn't know 'bout love
So they held hands an' talked all night
An' counted stars above
Then she was gone, just slipped away
An' he was punchin' cows
He had the world to call his own
With all the heres an' nows
An' so he looked at all the world
An' marveled at its size
It was almost, almost enough
'Til he recalled her eyes
10-16-20
Contest: Have You Published
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Poem from the book
"Almost Enough, Cowboy and Western Poetry" April 6, 2010
Amazon Publishers, ISBN 9781519762481
Letters fall into place of words,
Comes naturally by grace,
Gifted in the penmanship.
A poet is born for such a time as this.
Bushy eyes fight the limited opening,
Reading on.
Mind invites the heart.
When the spirit flows,
The reader is one with the ink master,
Loyally is established.
Beginning of all what the poet may travel.
Between the publishers & the critics?
Believe not.
Faithfulness dwells in two,
Not so much the reader.
The uncommonly one,
Poetess.
Soul travel is a must of never-ending walk on Poetic Earth.
Heart indeed to see beyond one's point of view,
Yet remain true.
Spirit into the flight,
Rubbing fingertips with the Foundation of the Blessed Untouched.
Homestead in one place,
Homeless the poet will find in the final hours.
Loyally of the readers?
I do believe relationships goes two ways...
Clever new magical words,
Casting spells only last a season.
Sweet nothing into the ears,
Treated like a woman who has heard it all.
The mist to an end.
Fame simply dies,
And the readers move on...
Form:
And soon you will see that inside every impossible is the word “possible”…if only we dare to see it. - TerKeurst, Lysa. What Happens When Women Say Yes to God Devotional (p. 40). Harvest House Publishers. Kindle Edition.
Philippians 4:7 (KJV) “And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”
Struggling with stressful situations,
I ask myself – can I possibly overcome?
Fighting my fears, the darkness,
I wonder, can I silence the doubts?
Find answers in the quest?
Can I work through the sorrows?
Let faith paint my heart in hopeful?
Fraught with worries and pain,
I cling to the shadows, marveling –
Can I make it through the greyest rain?
Can I reach beyond my dread, my despair?
Find a way through the desperation?
Grief and grace – both a part of my heart,
Can I listen to the beautiful?
And, erase the sadness that staggers me?
Resisting the demons who torment me…
With shame and guilt, humiliation,
Can I let go of the disgrace, the dishonor?
Find a way through the embarrassment?
Reach beyond the indignity, into the promise…
Bold and brave, the feelings that save me,
From the degradation… feelings of self-respect,
Brought to life despite a life that can reject.
Struggling to learn, to grow, to become –
I ask myself often – can I possibly find my way,
Through the aching, through the sorrows,
Through the disappointments and discouragements?
Can I reach beyond all the reasons –
I have for giving up on my dreams, my beliefs…
And find the courage to listen to God’s promises,
His light shining through my darkest dread,
His assurance filling me with faith,
His kindness reminding me that I am still His,
Despite all the fears, the tears, the years…
When I felt like I couldn’t make it through the hard,
When I wasn’t sure I was meant to know hope,
When I couldn’t let go of the panic in my heart?
Struggling on, I realize – He is my guide,
And, though I may feel like giving up on this life,
I know that, with Him by my side – I’ll find the light,
The lesson, the grace that I need to realize my dreams,
The promise of a joy beyond anything I’d expect to see,
A moment when my prayer is answered by His love,
And, just for a while, there is peace in my world.
They ask, "What's the sweetest thing that's happened to you"?
I would have to reply, "It started when I was two".
That is when I, Mother, sister and brother,
went to live with our Grandpa and Grandmother.
They both sacrificed, from that day forward,
working long, hard hours, always undeterred.
To give us a home and happy memories.
It couldn't have been better, for Mom and us three.
Mom worked evenings at the Sears and RoeBuck store.
Grandpa at the publishers, working on the printing floor.
Grandma changed jobs to the school cafeterias,
so when we were home from school, she could be near us.
Grandpa was our dad, in our hearts and minds.
Growing up with two Moms was a terrific time.
Yes, living with our Grandparents was a special world.
I grew up to be a very thankful girl.
What's the sweetest thing that has ever happened?
It started when I was two, and has never slackened
For the contest'Sweetheart"
Hosted by Tirzah Conway
Placement: 5th place
Countless lives have been rearranged
By the power of written words;
For the better many people change,
While the others from bad to worse.
Millions of books have been printed
By authors, editors, and publishers;
These precious pages are widely studied
By students, mentors and researchers.
There are books about ideology,
Religion, law, and critical thinking;
One page can twist man's philosophy,
Even a slave may turn into a king.
Computer wizards around the world
Introduce the wonders of internet;
Updated information they upload
May be copied and pasted to a booklet.
Grandmasters win the chess game,
For they scan every available strategy;
Triumphs toward fortune and fame
Inspire them to enhance their ability.
From college down to elementary,
Written words of wisdom cure schism;
From general psychology to history,
From physical science to journalism.
Books on music, marriage, counseling,
Bibliotherapy, short stories, poetry;
Superheroes, wars, engineering,
Medicine, sports, economics, IT.
But above these books is the Bible,
For God, our Father, is the Author;
The Scripture offers life eternal
From the one true God, our Creator.
Ode to a Writer
Who will find it?
my consonants of Gold,
and vowels of Silver,
my pearls of poetry,
and rubies of writing,
Who will find me?
So, I can be paid
the Big, Big bucks?,
So I can hob knob
with Who's Who,
and lecture them
on such and such.
Publishers out there,
I got plots to pitch,
ideas to discuss,
Ways to make you rich
But All in All,
I'm tired of waiting
And God,
I've been praying
for that right way of saying,
Sir, would you, Uh
Ma'am, could you, Um.
What if I Uh
Maybe I could Um.
Who will find it?
my consonants of Gold,
and vowels of Silver,
my pearls of poetry,
and rubies of writing.
NoelsArt
Comments: Like many of us, I hope to be discovered, go “viral”. I like the “Sir, would, Uh”, shows my shyness, awkwardness, wanting and fearing fame I guess. FEEDBACK WELCOME.
Once I looked for a book publisher,
who would help me become published.
The search changed from a book publisher,
to book publishers - their publication fees
were beyond my means.
My hope trekked in the Internet for two years,
searching for a place to halt.
As I was about to throw in the towel,
I found a publisher who charged no fee;
he would do it for free!
Now, I am a published poet,
immortalized by my own book!
(I'm glad to have first Poetry Book, "The Milky Way in Words",
published by Booktango!)
Date: 22/03/2016
I never hide anything from you,
Told you nearly everything about me,
Just wanted your appreciation,
Instead my angel why gave me rejection.
Just like a kid cry for toys,
Just like a poet cries when being rejected by publishers,
Just like parents cry for their children’s pain,
More then just like that, I cry and cried for you.
My angel now I can’t eat,
I can’t even drink properly,
Days and nights are passing,
But still I am in love and thinking of you.
Please come back,
I will be always yours,
Just give me one chance to prove myself,
Why you have rejected me without giving any chance.
You are so pretty my angel,
But let me tell you something,
I would have still loved you,
If you were not that pretty.
I never hide anything from you,
Told you nearly everything about me,
Just wanted your appreciation,
Instead my angel why gave me rejection.
Just like a kid cry for toys,
Just like a poet cries when being rejected by publishers,
Just like parents cry for their children’s pain,
More then just like that, I cry and cried for you.
My angel now I can’t eat,
I can’t even drink properly,
Days and nights are passing,
But still I am in love and thinking of you.
Please come back,
I will be always yours,
Just give me one chance to prove myself,
Why you have rejected me without giving any chance.
You are so pretty my angel,
But let me tell you something,
I would have still loved you,
If you were not that pretty.
CONVERSATION
Good morning, Lord! Thank You for a good night's sleep.
Good morning, My Son! You're quite welcome. Are you refreshed and ready?
Well, Lord, I do feel rather energetic, but ready for what?
I'm glad you feel energetic, because you'll need lots of energy for what I have in store for you today.
Oh! And what might that be, Lord?
You know the widow Jenkins who lives in the rather run down shack on the back forty? Did you notice that her roof needs some repairs, and the front door is sagging on its hinges. The window on the south side has two broken panes and the sash needs fixing.
Lord, that lady is noted for being a little “touched in the head”. Are you sure she won't just send me packin' if I try to help her?
Let me handle her attitude and you do the repairs. By the way, I noticed that the back steps are missing a couple of risers. You need to replace those so she doesn't fall going down them.
Lord, You know lumber and hardware aren't exactly cheap and since I had to spend the 300 dollars on my old truck to keep it runnin', I'm kinda strapped for money right now.
Come, come! Don't you recall that I will supply all your needs? If you are obedient in this matter and trust my promises, you'll not regret it.
Okay, Lord, I'll get it done, but it won't be easy.
Thank You, Lord, for the strength, energy, and stamina to do all that work for the widow Jenkins. She is really a sweet lady – and a great cook! She fixed a lunch for me the likes of which I never had before, And, she seemed right pleased and appreciative of the fact that I would do all that for her.
What's that, Lord? You know I don't play the lottery or mess with publishers clearing house and such – Yes Sir, I could use a new truck, but You know I can't afford it. You what? They what? For real? Why would the preacher and that bunch from the church give me a new truck? Oh! You took care of that. Well, thank You, Lord. I'm kinda tired so I think I'll turn in now. Good night, Lord and thank You for all Your blessings.
Curtis Moorman
17 January 2012
For Frank H. contest: Conversation
The Salt of the Earth
Who is the Salt of the Earth?
Is it Pakistani musicians making music with pyramids and suffering?
Is it Pakistani musicians finding suffering in heart problems and untimely
hospital stays?
Is it Jordanian warriors tied to their culture, but yearning for the love of the world?
Is it soft hearted geniuses doubting their own efficacy but yet affirming my soul?
Who is the Salt of the Earth?
Is it Divinity Students weighted down by the complexities of a God who would
forsake the downtrodden?
Or good hearted economists calling them commies?
Is it bow tie wearing conservatives who feed my mind yet bring a wry smile?
Is it Lesbian ethics professors who wage war on injustice?
Who is the Salt of the Earth?
Is it Jewish prophets of industry who volunteer to fight on the front lines and
receive stress and conflict in return?
Is it Jewish prophets of industry who write with courage and integrity to
publishers who shun the very idea of the Divine?
Is it cross wearing angels of administration who work behind close doors of
schedules and student suffering?
Who is the Salt of the Earth?
Is it Buddhist clinicians who start health care programs and help the unfeeling to
feel?
Is it loving pastors who pray with sincerity and conviction?
Is it a woman on the street teaching the rest of us to be grateful?
Or is it some wonderful euphony?
Or is it some wonderful euphony of people in conflict, yet all serving the same
goal?
Or is it some wonderful sound, as a sweet incense that though we refuse to
understand each other or consider the others vantage, together because our
hearts are good,
Together because our hearts are good.
Together because our hearts are good, we become a sound.
We become the sound of rushing water, and preserve the earth as one.
Poverty and poetry
No bard is poor
But indeed all
For he sings
For he weeps
When time demands
His pocket is poor
But his heart rich.
His books, his heir
His pens, his tools
His pains, his property
His poverty, his poetry
His poetry, his publicity
His publicity, his problem
His problem, high priced volumes
His wishes to buy all
His pocket sighs
Why on earth publishers shelf
Makes him rich
And we wait in queues
To correct our vision.
In his fancies, he rules
But in reality, he is ruled
What makes him write
Is no currency notes
His blood flooded with tears
To narrate common woe.
A Prophecy
John Grisham was rejected by 28 publishers
Before he sold “A Time to Kill”
But because he didn’t say “What the hell”
His books have sold over 275 mil.
Maya Angelou was once a whore
But she wanted to write and sing
When haters were speaking she wasn’t listening
And in 1993 she sang before a king.
Paul Laurence Dunbar was the son of a slave
Wrote his brilliant masterpieces at the elevator door
Determined not to listen to the white man because he wanted more
Now he is an example of greatness for the writing poor.
Tyshawn Nicole Knight was once a mental case
She wrote poetry on the floors in the psych ward
But, she never gave up, she struggled and worked hard
Now she is a publisher and her writers have gone far.