Best Ready Poems
As dawn calls subtle sun to rise,
twilight cloaks clouds in charcoal hue.
Robins arrive with their trill cries.
Smoke puffs loom as the last star dies.
Moon hides behind shades of slate blue,
as dawn calls subtle sun to rise.
Poppies open to charm tired eyes
in fields with lustrous beads of dew.
Robins arrive with their trill cries.
Nature's heart glows to alchemize,
casting breath-taking morning views,
as dawn calls subtle sun to rise.
Windows shine bright as folk arise.
Pots boil as people make a brew.
Robins arrive with their trill cries.
Gold, purple pastels highlight skies.
Saffron flames prepare to breakthrough,
as dawn calls subtle sun to rise.
Robins arrive with their trill cries.
We are the Terrorists
dead babies don't cry
therefore I must
My teeth have gotten crooked.
My eyes sport puffy bags.
My lashes lost their lushness
And my neck, once taut, now sags.
My wrinkles now have cousins
Come to line my washed-out skin,
But it isn’t any mirror that
Reveals the shape I’m in.
For that white-haired older lady,
Peering back across the room,
Is the way the whole world sees me
When I’m on the screen on Zoom.
Not Ready Yet
Give me just one more day of Christmas jubilee
Not ready to let go of Christmas, yet
Or stop gathering flecks of stardust
Scattered from the Heavens
Still reveling in the sweet aroma of frankincense
Or bovine straw
Lingering on evening's breath
To walk by candles in the window
Enchanted by twinkling lights of welcome.
My heart pitches a tent
On hillsides among olive trees
Craning it's neck to hear newborn angelic carols
And longs to cradle the pure cry of Love
Again and again
Infinite Love I can hold and understand.
Stay one more night, sweet season of hope,
Beside me
Not letting the lights twinkling with wicks of joy,
Festooning trees and doorways,
Dim with memory
Or exchange red and green for blue and ice
On starless nights.
Not ready to eat
The last crumbs of Christmas manna
Or leave the firesides of desert travelers
Stargazing.
Just one more night precious holiday
And then you can slip away
To walk from Bethlehem to Jerusalem.
“Capturing my imagination of a candle in glorious blaze,
My breath extinguishing it to get ready for the dark night haze.” The Poet
Sunset’s glowing color of crimson and gold is in sight,
I settle to watch, inspired by an instant moment, so true.
As lights begin to shimmer, it is now twilight.
Across the horizon created a radiant glow so bright.
This magical moment captured with a deep ruby hue.
Sunset’s glowing color of crimson and gold is in sight,
Streams of color blend seamlessly in swirls of delight.
Detailing an exquisite hefty crimson etched in view.
As lights begin to shimmer, it is now twilight.
Heavily embossed across the faded sky, birds in flight.
I gaze as the sky bids farewell to the last glimpse of blue.
Sunset’s glowing color of crimson and gold is in sight.
A sweetness of warmth, a tranquil overtone so light,
As the velvety blanket of night begins to unfold so new,
As lights begin to shimmer, it is now twilight.
Whispers of a breeze wafting gently, it flickers a perfume too.
Evokes aromatic bursts, sensual yet earthy right through.
Sunset’s glowing color of crimson and gold is in sight,
As lights begin to shimmer, it is now twilight.
The job search continues, though unemployment has run out
For me, accepting a government handout set a precedent
If only the largest corporations are to qualify for bailouts
Then I’d like to shake up Washington and run for president
Not of the United States, no, I don’t want Obama’s job
But I’d like to take the reins of a business with some courage
To refuse taxpayer money like Ford, not GM on the rob
Like the public, I’d heal corporate wounds with my own bandage
Now I fill my hours volunteering for various causes
Senior centers and children’s groups show appreciation
Operating in the red, they are used to accepting losses
And in my heart I receive a different type of compensation
Sawing logs, one after another
Into two feet lengths
Just for the specific purpose
Of standing them up on the ground
Awaiting the iron axe
That will create a comforting
Roaring fire in the hearth
Come this winter’s cold
Canning fruits and vegetables
To store on the shelves
Awaiting the moment in time
When they’ll be lifted out
And opened slowly, carefully
With appreciation for the color
The scent and deliciousness
Of a homegrown and canned food
Cutting down hay in the field
Tractor moving slowly, assuredly
Taking the blade to the grass
Green and pungent scented
Covering the field with what will
Be racked up into piles for
Baling and creating a treasure
For the barn to store for cattle
A blank page is ready
For the pen to begin
Spreading the words
One letter at a time
Then one paragraph
Followed by another
Until the poem has
ended
Mama I want to be a star
I want to grace stages that host the world's revered faces
Fantasies shameless my pipe dreams contagious
I want to be famous
Not one for fictional frivolity
I speak of what's in front of me
A new city called Poetry,
I watched as the has-beens soaked their dreams in sewage streams
Unphased by rodent plagues
These ones embrace their own rat race
I still try to navigate the avenues
Negotiate the ones and twos and find a way to tell the truth
Young and unstable I stumble in the giant footprints of those who stood before me
Tip toe on verbal terrain as desperately I pray the weight of immaturity won't bury me,
Admittedly this spoken world is new to me
-But-
Is it possible in any way the gift of verse will carry me?
I see me breaking grounds, earth shattering and in my dreams these words resound
I'll turn cacophony into somewhat of a sacred sound
I want to craft phrases that serenade, deliver sweet-somethings that emancipate
I want, in some way to bring meaning to confusion
Dear world of poetry
Sometimes when they're floored I'm in awe of how my flow's flawless, I hear applause no pauses, waving arms and stinging palms bear tribute to those timeless charms, classic tales still bent with intent to succumb to new pens
Pave way for insecurity
For fear of gift escaping me
See I fail to write when I'm trying to
I get it right with no intention to
Am I...within my right to claim potential true?
Tear ink off her hinges, her blue ball point cringes
Left hand in debt
My blank page bereft
But in the back of my mind
I see standing ovations and soul drenched invasions..
I want to pierce every being I encounter,
I want to penetrate faith, tear doubt asunder,
Let me to speak to the valleys
negotiate peaks and make friends with epitome
I want to part oceans and in the grips of my - pause - tempt emotions,
mold momentum to set in motion the wheels of adoption so that poetry.....may adapt herself for me
I want to write poetry, I want to speak
I want to reach within,
pen something...
A remote reflection of her
This...this brand new city
I present this piece as fantasy
when in all reality
I do hope she's prepared for me
Time to get ready to go… out on the town
Getting prepared… all dressed up… in evening gown
Glimmer and lace… plans on going to a fancy place
With some sparkle within the silk…dress
With slight slit up the side… High heels
Nylons… the kind that fits all size
Long brown hair half up-half down
Necklace that has radiant diamonds
Combined with sapphire stones
Earrings that sparkle as they dangle… down
While she gets ready... he is too
Dressing up.. in his nice blue suit
Set with tie... and shiny black shoes
He can't wait for the time... they meet
He remember her beauty... SOoo sweet
He leaves to pick her up... sweeping her off her feet
He prepares with roses and champagne.. and his plans
Time is ticking… Awaiting to go out on the town
Her man comes... to take her away
In a horse... in a buggy
giving roses... carring champagne
Taking her to that special place
Where everyone gathers… to celebrate
At Midnight… Welcoming in The New Year!
Just a Dream---- but this
~Reminds me~ of how it will be
As time is ticking… be awaiting
For the day of our Lord… Jesus comes to take us away
Rapture takes place… whosoever received Gods’ Grace
Will all meet together in the air
Trumpets will blow… Angels will sing
Victory Celebration… Worshiping Our Majestic King
~Time is Now at hand… are you getting ready?~
~come believe in Jesus.. then together we celebrate on the day of our Lord~
Decorations fill the halls
Row of rolls of shining reds
Strung along the long walls
Followed by green and gold
The Christmas tree is ready
All gifts wrapped underneath
The buffet table is is long filled
with all types of food
The eggnog is waiting
At the hallway door hanging
A mistletoe over head hangs
Ready waiting for couples
To be underneath to kiss
On Christmas Day
You look tired and worn out
Ready to say goodbye
I hold you close
Determined not to cry
Time for tears when your not here
For now my face must smile
I talk to you though I doubt you hear
helping you along your last mile
I hold your hand, telling you I love you
Leave you a kiss upon your face so dear
See your eyes asking what will you do
When you're alone and I am no longer near
How can I say that I will die also
That my heart will leave with you
That living without you, won't be living
That my souls crying out to leave too
theme used "Leave a kiss"
Contest The Poet II
Penned 7. September 2014 by Seren Roberts
Whatever you need, I'll be...
A life preserver thrown out to sea,
umbrella to shelter you from the storm,
the wool blanket to wrap you and keep you warm.
Your favorite song played on repeat,
warm fuzzy slippers to rest your weary feet,
I'll be whatever you need me to be.
I understand you pain, I see your sorrow,
I'll hold your hand until you're ready to let go.
7-20-18
I am living steady
I am moving steady
In unsteady times
Keeping my balance and smiles
Though the world is unsteady
Keep moving and ready
To meet God in His kingdom
And live forever in freedom
Glorify God in good and bad times
So that you can overcome at all times
Cause the devil goes around
Stalking victims to run aground
Jesus the rock is ever steady
He is ever ready
To save those that trust in Him from troubles
As the devil strikes His grace is doubled
Comes a time of unbreaking
what's broken
maybe broken to the point
a thing can't be fixed
ever
forever
severed.
To be sure prayers can find a home
but not when a divine plan's mark
is missed
yet must insist
with clenched fist
I resist.
A simple woodcarver, be
like Mister Geppetto
fend off a life of despair
perhaps with a little help from
a Fairy with Turquoise Hair.
For a creator
nothing causes elation
like its finest creation
seeking salvation.
All may end in ruin
in stringed freedom's destroy
it's never easy
bein' a wooden boy.
Life's call is abrupt
so keep your dukes up.