Best Quintessentially Poems
SPELLING TEST (there are over 30 words contained within this poem that are often
misspelt by the common man)
We all do on occasion temporarily misspell.
Amateur or connoisseur of language,who can tell?
Conscientiously piece together,peculiar bits of rhyme.
Manoeuvre letters gorgeously for others to refine.
Discipline and experience,all apparent to you and me.
Pronunciation not enough to spell linguistically.
Skilful realignment of the letters needs addressed.
Paralytic implications quintessentially expressed.
A ricochet of rhythm,sabotaged in a queue of verse.
Cacophony of tone with their spellings unrehearsed.
Is your spelling kamikaze,a haemorrhaging of ink.
A karaoke nightmare,communication on the brink.
So literary geniuses,i am all apologetic.
If my utterance is rabbled and my spelling is pathetic.
You see,many words i utilize in this poem i create.
Have been misspelt for centuries,the most common is
separate
A period of youthful vim ferments
as coruscating golden flecks in eyes
that mesmerise and tantalise, give rise
to secrets in my breast to stir, foment.
The xanthous tresses that cascade torment.
My eager and impressionable sighs
that echo every pirouette and pliés,
a fleeting intercession of lament.
A maverick when it comes to amour
and quintessentially a rakish cad.
Unrequited love longstanding rancour,
but finally become your paramour.
An enigmatic smile ever so sad;
your broken heart I gladly give succour.
With flow and rhythm, poems can sing,
Music to ears: sounds are heard,
Euphoric eruptions it may bring,
Quintessentially spoken every word.
With words and lines, poems can rhyme
Caress the senses, soothe the eyes
In so few letters, through all times
Poems create images, soar the skies
Evoking emotions is what they’ll do
Fuelling the mind and inspiring as well
Metaphors and more and some even true
Open the door, let poet cast his spell
Enriching the world in wonderful ways
A poet and his poems: a pair that will stay
***
June 8, 2017
Copyright © White wolf and Darren White
Quit thinking it's oh so
Quaint I'm good 'for my age'
Question is, why not? to
Quip, this old gray mare ain't
Quite what she used to be~
Quicker of will, I'm still
Quintessentially me.
4/15/21
In his
famous poem
Wordsworth
zealously lauded
glorious
vibrant
xyanthic daffodils
Yet unfortunately,
knowledge
of this quintessentially
British romantic author
somehow
just completely
escaped my notice!
Alphabet Soup Poetry Contest
Sponsored by William Kekaula
10/30/21
accidental boundaries crush despair easily, fragrant gravity heckles ignorance judiciously.
kindness levitates mindless numerology, overt principles qualm ridiculous sexualities.
transgressions uproot vindictive whippings. xanadu yields zero.
zoology yields xanax. whirls voice underground terrorism, syntax resonates quintessentially.
pragmatic oddities nosedive murderously. leperous kindergartens jumble idiosyncratic
hellholes. gyrating fondness etches disdain carefully. bespectacled academics.
BEING HUMAN BEINGS
Some people are evil.
Maliciously.
Some people create drama. Monstrosities..
Some people have ulterior motives. Intentionally.
Some people have remorse.
An apology.
Some people have profound words. Poetically.
Some people are tree huggers.
Organically.
Some people have no common sense. Stupidity.
Some people are real religious.
Spiritually.
Some people are inmature.
Mentalities.
Some people die in crashes.
Fatalities.
Some people are ignorant.
Their just to blind to see.
Some people have a sixth sense.
Let's call it telepathically.
Some people feel sorrow for others.
Some would call that Sympathy.
But when people understand sorrow for others.
It becomes empathy.
Some people are real chill. We'll say Copacetically.
Some people are plain fake. AKA...Artificially.
Some people are solid.
Its called Solidarity.
Some people are single.
Its called singularity.
Some people take their last breath.
They are put in a cemetary.
Some people save their breath and never speak.
Monastery.
Some people are tone deaf.
They have No melody.
Some people dress real risque.
In other words quite provocatively.
Some people rise above the rest. That's what i call Quintessentially.
BUT......ALL.... PEOPLE....
Should love.
Unconditionally.
Demonstrate peace.
Peacefully.
Work.
Systematically.
Live.
Longevity.
Laugh.
Uncontrollably.
Respect others.
Diplomatically.
Throw away the hate.
Practice racial equality.
If We do all those things,
then the world we live in,
could be in,
perfect harmony.
Agile
Black
Cats
Dart
Eerily
From
Gloomy
Hallways
Initiating
Jolts -
Killing
Lackadaisical
Moods
Notably
Of
People
Quintessentially
Ruffled -
Spooking
Them
Unduly -
Verifying
Wanted
Xenial
Yearnings
ZAPPED
Nov. 9, 2021
for William Kekaula's Alphabet Soup Poetry Contest
~Quintessentially Is You~
"I carry your heart with me( I carry it in
my heart) I am never without it(anywhere
I go you go . . . "
EE Cummings
i carry the sweet emotions
you stir deep inside of me
with your impassioned
words exquisite in structure
and effervescent flow
each to fit perfectly
between each line and space
to harmonize breathlessly
beckoning my soul to
explore each aspect of your
tenderly crafted verse
allowing them to penetrate
my being gently to caress
my core setting tones your
golden pen envisioned
encompassing my thoughts
conjuring an unequalled burning
passion of which is the embodiment
that quintessentially is you
" Loving the words written from the heart is to love the soul of the author"
Date 11/3/2019
Writing Challenge, November- Some Kind of Love
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
I am the ultimate fabricated furious me
Hiding my weathered, worn, wonderful sides
Pulling out the slow downs, hoe downs and stops
Dropping myself cleverly into convenience paths
Of newness and wise women truths
I am readily unafraid to reveal my whole self to others
Insane? Of course, I am, in many directions.
But in the ways that matter, I am quintessentially sane.
Normal? What is that? I scoff and throw back my head.
Do not tamper my enthusiasm and exuberance.
I am childlike, not childish. The guidelines I give myself are used often.
I am full of wonder and joy. Don’t let my physical appearance fool you.
Caught up in the moment of a deep dream,
Myself drifting further than it would seem,
Although unaware of one's own true self,
I leave behind all my worries of health.
As orchestras sound and play in the mind,
Taken away on this journey in time,
While violins and great horns burst out free,
Captured the act of spiritual glee.
Quintessentially verbalized of course,
Within the dream world, there is no remorse,
No regrets, no shame, just a state of bliss,
In this realm, freedom to be as you wish.
You will be amazed at what you will find,
The dream world to me has always been kind.
/|\
(ten syllables per line)
enjoy the reed
now displayed as a satisfactory deed.
* * * * * *
A Senior Moment - written months ago commemorating
the graduation from a vaunted charter school
in Bend, Oregon of thy lovely youngest,
this papa could not attend -
geographical distance constituting the primary determinant.
* * * * * *
Valedictorian treads across makeshift platform
i.e. most likely auditorium stage marked
by hushed audience inhaling, notating,
and regaling gleeful lightness of buoyant feat
(but me Yeats heavy of heart) feted for 2017 Redmond
Enrichment Academy graduates, who attained,
a milestone vis a vis earning their
high school diploma, and ready to launch
bountiful daunting challenges, yet sure
footed each young gal and/or guy
will exude joy and sorrow upon grasping their
high school diploma aware a sound education
sent each on their own future path
while pomp and circumstances issues forth
by adroit musically talented underclass
* * * * * *
man, which emotional celebrated achievement
evoked by keynote student speaker,
but also underscored via that well worn mortar
board, linkedin, kickstarter, Joyus
tune (composed by Sir Edward Elgar –
subtitled March Number 1) acknowledging
cheers, eliciting grownups immense Kleenex
moistening overpowering quintessentially
simmering ululating wrenching yowling
as tassels flipped (maybe in conjunction with
a non twittering uber bird) to the left side
of the caparisoned newly anointed future
Dharma Bums, professionals and/or trades
persons momentarily stung with sadness
to depart favorite classmates and teachers
who voluntarily cosseted, ferried, and
* * * * * *
capitalone did flickr imperceptibly, kneaded
and leavened LivingSocial, and massaged MineCraft
outlook plenti full confidence, faith, and inherent
lettered oblations serve as snap chatting,
A Jim-Jam Mickey-Mouse Poem
I think that you might never see
A poem as weird as this might be
For I’ll use luscious words
That otherwise might sound absurd
This poem may turn out silly-sally
Or even a bit dillydally
In hindsight this whole kit and caboodle
May come across as dipsy-doodle
I’ll find a rhyme for titillated
That’s quintessentially outdated
I might include a foxy lady
But not written like my friend Slim Shady
So there won’t be some randy blowhard
Gender-bender sleaze-ball retard
No hooligan with gizmo manikin
No easy rider glissade shenanigan
No penny pincher prude nitpicker
And of course no cowboy old ****-kicker
And I would be recalcitrant
If I were to use this poem to rant
Though I know at times I vacillate
I shan’t lambaste this tete-a-tete
I haven’t worked in balderdash
Bloke or codger or mish-mash
No Tallulah, no Colleen
No rambunctious Charlie Sheen
And there’s no dubious diddlysquat
But that’s abso-bloody–lutely all I’ve got
Mdailey 3/30/12
What kind of woman am I?
I am the quintessential woman
of the most demur kind
Only in the eyes of the watchers
will my essence be exposed
I am the quintessential woman
for those who stop to care
I stand unabashedly disrobed
in the view of the inquisitive
I am most certainly the quintessential woman
in an existence of diamonds and pearls
where worth is not now, nor has it ever been
what lies in the inner depths of your soul
Yes, I am the quintessential woman
in a time when there is no comparisons
I am the quintessential woman
sensual, wanton, erotic
Quintessentially
With glorious primordial certainty
the sun will rise, the sun will set;
likewise you languish knowing what you're about,
you know what is and isn’t so;
yet, ultimately, you don’t.
Chained to the chromium railings of
a sterile value system,
some terminal, addled suffragette,
hollow to the very core, quintessentially
punch-drunk by the ghost fists
of what you do not know;
sometimes you can dream, more often you won’t.
This is all you wanted, surely,
way back when Homer was a pup;
this thing you worked for, this cold material cocoon,
this anaesthetic cult to which you belong;
then again, maybe not.
All your wild beasts are chained and in cages
you painstakingly banged them up;
now you act surprised in a wrung-out
monochrome way
at the quiet death of your protest song
with the former self you have forgot.
Just as a virus will seek out a host,
just as water will find it’s own level;
you’re a schizoid, new age, careworn dolt
with no limits to how far your mind will sink
in unfathomable depths of self delusion.
Wrenched this way and that, going with the flow,
serving both God and the Devil;
but where now is the rebel heart,
the hedonistic happy fool,
the keeper of the demon drink?
no more than a crumbling memory,
the feeblest illusion.
Once burning with such crucial fire,
a quiver full of arrows shot with telescopic vision;
now all that burns no more, doubted by the rain
spat from black clouds of self denial;
no remnant traces of an ex-antihero.
Servile to the whims of children,
and an emasculating harpy
who regards you with derision;
you are alone your own executioner
self judge and juror at the kangaroo trial
self sentenced to figure less than zero.