Best Raved Poems
On the shadowed banks of river they sat together
Adulating setting sun quivering in rippling currents
Where golden filaments shimmered on blue water
Forming and breaking ephemeral circular motions
Undulating amber rays on eve’s buoyant emotions.
Her dimples smiled upon her visage of royal poise
Enticing him to probe her cheerful, enamored eyes
Mesmerizing as yet un-blossomed amatory dreams
As they raved of college, friends, late nights carefree
Exploring coyly maiden impulses of mature themes
Inflaming seductively, untrodden clues of fantasies.
Alas! those memories now~ dulcet still, but empty.
Never he saw her again on her side of the prairies
Strolling nonchalantly, engrossed in birds chirping,
No one standing there now to steal his glances slyly
Hiding behind notions of secrecy, at first meekly,
Though later, quite daringly, wantonly, frequently;
Elevating him unlike anyone else, before, or since.
Her last letter to him was cryptic, yet informative:
A rustic farm house, cow moos amid clucking sounds,
Boy and a girl, flower beds, and a dog named Duffy~
A simple life on landscapes lauding ancestral heritage.
He remembers well~ saying it, genuinely meaning it,
As movingly she indulged in life that could have been,
Awkwardly dropping hints, soon she’ll be married.
Yet, here she is now intimating, she too so loved him~
Validating his belief—though offering a mere fig leaf--
A vain gesture to convince him she honored his dream
Memorializing secret pact, living life in his blueprint:
Boy and a girl, rustic farm house, a dog named Duffy.
April 12, 2022
Poem of the day on April 14, 2022
Placed 1st: This or That, Vol 11 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: Fig Leaf
Categories:
raved, lost love, love,
Form:
Free verse
I dreamt of blue birds
and buzzing bumble bees.
I roamed with the bison herds,
prayed with mantis on our knees,
and butterflies in the breeze.
I greeted the cheery chickadees,
dragonflies, and snowy owls.
I marveled at graceful manatees.
raucous sounds of guinea fowls,
and warblers’ velvet vowels.
I raved at ravens
dancing on a fertile field.
Mice sought havens,
safe shelters that red ants build
in hopes from spiders to shield.
I spotted rain-drenched
autumn leaves in tapestries,
their beauty strangely entrenched.
Purple hues imbued in varying degrees,
of gladiolas and sweet peas.
So many perfect pleasures,
many another than these.
All of God’s treasures,
created with love to please,
arranged to calm my world with ease.
Categories:
raved, animal, bird, dream, environment,
Form:
Rhyme
Prince William was so sick of being told
He’s receding and is now going bald
So he called in the royal hairdresser
To see if he could ease the heir pressure
He gave him a brand new hairstyle
This ‘buzzcut’ would be so worthwhile
His hairdresser is very highbrow
But his fees have raised an eyebrow
William’s head looks like its been shaved
Oh how the press stories have raved
£180 pounds is what we’ve been told
It’s so costly to look like you’re bald!
The cost Prince William has now denied
It wouldn’t be the first time the press have lied!
One day William will be ‘heir apparent’
And cutting costs will be more transparent
When William’s crowned then we could sing
With altered words to God shave the king!
Based on a story in the press over the cost of Prince William’s news haircut
01/20/18
Categories:
raved, england, hair, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
My First Five Poems
Silhouetted against the backdrop of Central Park,
the Black Magic Woman brazenly frolicked in the dark,
"Do you know me?” she cryptically asked,
steel gray eyes peering from behind a gruesome mask.
Agitated and running out of patience and time,
she ranted and raved looking anything but sublime.
Responding to the summons of the eclipsing mid-day sun,
she melted into the mystical tableau that had begun
Emerging naked as the day she was born,
wearing only sprigs of white Baby’s Breath that adorn
her hair, she danced under cover of the darkness at noon,
with wild abandonment before falling into a swoon.
Dazedly, I wondered would I be able to recall this story;
but with useless pen in hand, only blank pages could I see,
as from my mind, she had erased all memories of her and me.
She had deliberately stolen my gift of words that day
leaving me expressionless with nothing to say.
Afflicting me with the accursed spell of writer’s block,
all clues were forgotten, as I struggled to unlock,
the portal to my creative mind, and then
hopefully, unleash my muse to write once again.
While her secrets are still buried deep within the dark gloom,
perhaps, one night it’ll all return with the eclipse of the moon.
*** Note - The titles of my first 5 poems are in bold above: Writer’s Block; Do you know me; The Darkness at Noon; Patience; and Frolicking in the Dark
09-11-2015
Categories:
raved, dark, fantasy, write,
Form:
Rhyme
THE MAN WHO DREAMED HIS LIFE AWAY
When I was young the Moon was lifted
Hung with tacks and thread
On a mystical ceiling of dreams
She in her skyward place I in my bed
We lay so tightly wed we two sure lovers
That all my years flew round passed us by
While from out our eyes some angels gathered dust
At length proud man at work by day by night
His busy light in flood on tissue walls
Tried describe to she and me a smoking glory in steel
And a prophet raved – “Hear! Heed!
Faith is the one checkered King
On this fantasian board a playing.”
But I like my Moon bearing such pale light
Long dead a mere reflection of life
Was old and could not rise
Categories:
raved, fantasy, moon,
Form:
Free verse
Let me set something straight -
Right here, right now!
Let me put India in the right perspective,
Let me banish some myths,
Some gross misconceptions,
And take you beyond elephants,
Sacred cows, snake charmers and yoga,
Beyond Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Taj Mahal,
To a civilization rooted for
over 5,000 years in the past
To a land rich - majestically rich -
In many cultures, customs and traditions,
In a bewildering variety of races,
Religions, languages and folk arts,
In a vibrant tradition of dance and music,
In religious festivals and traditional events,
In saints, sadhus, gurus and sages,
In gods, goddesses, munis and mahatmas,
In temples, palaces, shrines and monasteries;
I'll baby-steps you through a land
Of Vedas and Upanishads,
Of epic stories and incredible mythologies,
Of Ramayana, Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita,
Through one of world's great spiritual sanctuaries,
Where religion is a way of life;
An overwhelming, complex land -
Its charm, its vitality and yes, its confusion,
Atonce alarming and enticing.
And that's the way India is:
Elusive, confusing, contradictory,
mysterious and exasperating!
Beyond easy description or analysis,
A phenomenal diversity of dress
and manners making one aware
of a different world -
A veritable fairyland!
No other country offers quite such
A spectacle of teeming masses that
continue to enrich the heritage of mankind,
Nowhere do the past and present
coexist in more colorful promiscuity -
An incomparable country,
Easy to love, hard to forget!
"There's only one India!" raved Mark Twain,
"A wonderland of fabulous wealth
and fabulous poverty, of splendor and rags ..."
"The cradle of the human race,
The birthplace of human speech,
The mother of history,
The grandmother of legend and
The great grandmother of tradition."
This, indeed, is my country
Where I was born -
An Indian at heart,
An American in spirit!
Namaste!
Khuda Hafiz, Jai Ramji Ki,
OM Radhe Shyam, Sat Sri Akal,
Jai Hind!!
~Love letters to the sub continent
contest by cyndi MacMillan
Categories:
raved, home, perspective,
Form:
Free verse
6. Matsukaze
("Noh" is an ancient Japanese style of
drama, broadly similar to Elizabethan
tragedy. "The Wind in the Pines" is
my version of a well-known Noh play.)
Despite
the vigil I kept, night on night ...
despite
my spring purification rite ...
paper streamers like fronds of willow,
tears soaking into my pillow,
you did not come.
Madness touched me.
Like the spume of a wave
that boils and fizzes,
in my pain I raved.
Love returns like the ruthless tide,
like the air perspires in the hot night,
and leaves beads of water on morning grass
to mark its sweating.
The agonies pass,
but there's no forgetting.
Waiting at the gazing tree,
I look out on the restless sea ...
is that he? Coming to me?
Cut the succulent leaf of aloe vera,
and it weeps clear healing tears.
I am restored. Here's Yukihira.
See how his ship skips as it nears!
I deceive myself.
Am I blind?
It was the wind,
teasing a pine.
Exquisite, his calligraphy.
He painted a poem, just for me.
"Now I have gone.
Left you behind.
But if you pine,
I'll come at a run."
I am nothing now. I am a sad pine,
doubled over by prevailing winds.
Like salt, I dissolve in the brine.
Nature's madness, love, is a storm,
but it can't last. The sky grows warm
with purple streaks, braided on magenta.
I am held fast, because I have sinned.
Where I go now, none may enter.
Autumn rain will come. Mark the signs.
And listen for the wind, sighing in the pines.
Categories:
raved, myth,
Form:
Rhyme
“...The leftists that you voted for
jacked up the minimum wage,
so new workers like me cannot
get hired, much less get paid.
“And those very same people
ignore foreigners who work cheap,
they can work, and break the law,
But the same can’t be done by me!
“And then the proposed solution
to this raging dumpster fire
is to throw others' money at me
until the day that I expire?
“They create all these problems,
then watch as the city rots,
and fools like you vote for ruin
out of fear that the checks might stop!”
His mother with quite the shocked look,
Said,”Don’t talk like no honkey here!”
Then raved about slaves and Jim Crow,
the same old litanies of fear.
Clive said,”Mom, save the conspiracy,
that garbarge is hard to endure.
And stop using your skin pigment
to explain away your failures!
“John bought into all this crap,
thought his thugging was justified.
All it did was leave him lying
with a bullet between his eyes.
“I’ll not end up some dead banger,
or give up what makes a man a man,
even if I have to go out
and vote for a Republican!”
He turned to leave despite her cries,
and her endless protestations,
he had to go down to City Hall
to change his affiliations.
Categories:
raved, anger, change, growth, political,
Form:
Narrative
An ordinary life I live,
No high title, wealth nor fame.
Few will know my name;
I write for the joy it gives.
No great office have I kept.
No life my actions saved.
No critics of me raved,
Of accolades, bereft.
But there are some I touch.
Some hearts and lives I move.
Some suffering I sooth
And I minister to such.
Some I move to tears.
Some will share my passion;
Claim this poet’s fashion-
And offer subtle cheers.
I am simple and I show it,
A novice of this art
But if I can move a heart
I’ll be none other than a poet.
Categories:
raved, identity, poets,
Form:
Alliteration
Here he comes now the dance hall girls said.
When he comes to town, someone ends up dead.
We call him Lazy Eye, but he is a Jeckle and Hyde.
Some ran into the saloon to cower inside.
He walked with a strut that made the girls swoon.
He came in wearing a hat that glowed in the moon.
He ordered a whiskey and showed off his enormous gun.
He looks pretty willing and ready for fun!
This was said by Easy Go Gertie. She was quite the looker.
She was pretty innocent too for a three-dollar-hooker.
She took Lazy-Eye upstairs for a little bedtime romp.
We heard the bed jump, hop, swivel and stomp.
The rest of us lined up to hear the rest of the story.
Gertie came down the stairs and raved about his glory.
Now when Lazy-Eye comes to town at night
We all line up, and there is a girly brawl fight.
Categories:
raved, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Chatting with Hyrum, my husband asked him
what he was watching on TV. He
raved about the show his grandpa’s
phone call had interrupted.
There was a lull. . . and then
this four-year-old kid
said, “What am I
still talking
with you
for?”
Sept. 27, 2019
for Caren Krutsinger's 'Any Poem You Want to Write 50 Words or Less' Contest
(44 words)
Categories:
raved, grandson,
Form:
Etheree
The sea gathered her voice
on the crest of the waves
as dark clouds were herded
by the wind as he raved
in a symphony orchestrated
through elements of sound
composed by the air
from his drafty compound.
By the drum of the surf
on the beat of the waves
a crescendo that climbed
with the sea as she raged
while the wind as the maestro
pulled pockets of sound
from the whistles and moans
as he swept ‘cross the ground.
Soprano! cried the killdeer
Tenor! screeched the gulls
as a baritone foghorn
boomed from the hull
of a ship that swayed
drunkenly atop of the surf
staying clear of the breakers
that crashed on the turf
The ship creaked a response
as it groaned a refrain
but the deft hand of a shipwright
would keep it sustained
for he’d hewn and he’d whittled
great emblems of love
carving an angel for the figurehead
and atop the masthead, a dove.
When the wind stopped his jostling
and the sea spent her ire
the ship slipped back to its haven
of warm hearths and bright fires
where the men mused and wondered
over great tankards of ale
if the hymns and hosannas..
had been but, the wind in the sails?
Categories:
raved, dedication, faith, imagination, sea,
Form:
Ode
How my raw heart raved
At the news of your departure
For them that can read
The sands of a forlorn heart
Will the rains ever come again
And hover my lover back to me?
I groped for the blind guide
Swore to fence his inner sight
To eternally end his thieving me
Of the only pearl
That my heart longs to keep:
That my eyes long to behold!
I cried on my mother’s lap
‘Let me be; I must have her
I must fly after her!’
Was all that forsoothing
No more than just a hoodwink-
A coquette’s meanly premium?
These torrid passions
Of a lonely heart
Have torn an unforgettable path
Thru’ the hows, whys and wherefores
Of a gallant search
For something to treasure!
Were I a prince, a poet or even a pauper
I would lead a chaste life
I would attend to my calling
Forget all the wicked nightmares
And attune to a life of celibacy and negritude
I would forfeit the worldly harvest!
You who travel to her nooks and corners
Will you tell me what’s behind the horizon?
What clouds hide me from her skyline?
Is there another star under God’s heaven
That shines brighter in her heart1
Tell me- my vigilant sensibilities.
Categories:
raved, heartbroken,
Form:
Free verse
A CENOTAPH WOULD SPEAK OUT LOUD
There is, in my still heart, room for you,
Despite the unmannerly way you have behaved
I have managed to conserve a bloom or two.
You smiled, and said love was for the few,
The deed is done, your garden, it is paved,
In my torn heart, there’s still room for you.
You said the years would bring regret and rue
As into each decade I danced and raved
I have managed to conserve a bloom or two.
I think, how, in spite of things, you’re true
How, in a small place, all the people braved,
In my dying heart there’s room for you.
In your slow glance, trust was built anew
Creeping home, someone smiled at me and waved,
I have managed to conserve a bloom or two.
In your name, I watch the stars turn blue,
Is there a chance somehow I’ll be saved?
In my eternal heart, there’s a bloom or two,
I have managed to save a room for you
Categories:
raved, angel, betrayal, sad,
Form:
Villanelle
Ordinary dolls for me
weren’t too exciting.
Dolls I wanted had to be
sure-fire delighting!
Dolls like Chatty Cathy or
ones with tapes to play. . .
Speak, and a devise would store
what your doll would say.
These dear Santa never brought
as a gift for me.
Barbie, though, and trolls I got
underneath my tree.
Tiny Thumbelina was
one doll that I raved
to my mom about because
she’s the doll I craved!
Crank her knob, she’d move her head
sweetly to and fro
like a real child on my bed.
How I loved her so!
Inspired by Linda-Marie Bariana's
Contest: "Toyland"
Categories:
raved, childhood, nostalgia
Form:
Rhyme