Best Realities Poems
Realities Unbound
Thru realities unbound and transfixed
Elders open gates of Temporal Time
Layering Multi-Verses intermixed
Portals welcoming the new paradigm
Angelic voices transport thru the mist
Forging fires in dimensional drift
Creations of desires that coexist
Nebulous clouds of lust squeeze thru the rift
Orbs of passion set the pretentious pace
Planets of pleasure align with their sun
Celestial beings watchers of their space
Serving emotions spherically spun
Divinities send us back with a shove
As we master the mysteries of Love.
Sept.15.2018
Beautiful mystery Poetry
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Sonnet form only. Ten syllables per line
Placed 1'st Premiere Contest
Sept.26.2018
In tailored suits that hug the form,
A businessman strides, exuding charm.
Briefcase in hand, he’s on his way,
Chasing the dawn of a brighter day.
Polished shoes click on the city’s grind,
With visions of fortune and power in mind.
He navigates crowds with purposeful grace,
While the world sees his polished face.
He buys a cup of coffee to wake him up,
But just a block down, in a world apart,
A homeless man sits with a weathered heart.
Tattered clothes drape his weary frame,
Invisible dreams wrapped in silent shame.
His eyes tell stories of battles fought,
Of lost opportunities, of hope for naught
On cardboard canvases, he sketches the sky,
Each faded star a whisper of why.
He steals a bottle of Vodka to warm him up
Yet as the businessman races toward the prize,
The homeless man watches with knowing eyes.
Two paths diverged in a city of light,
One chasing fortune, the other, the night.
In a world that prizes the polished and bright,
Both carry burdens, though hidden from sight.
For wealth and for want, they share the same street,
In the dance of existence, where heart beats
In the streets of the city where duality glared
Two strangers, same humanity shared.
like a two way mirror
our personal looking glass
a series of moments
being reflected back
images keep flowing
floating by on endless streams
countless hours chasing
realities of dreams
not everything appears to be
exactly what it seems
inner feeling , can seem more real
than our perceptive reality .
As children, we all dream,
tales of magic, of mystery,
and our own imagined destinies;
we dream of future prowess, of our own fantastic wyrds –
of our glorious, important place in the cosmos.
Whether those dreams are of firemen, police,
soldiers, artists, scientists,
writers, musicians, or something that isn't there,
like superheroes or the princes and princesses of old,
we all want to be something greater, even in youth.
I, too, dreamt these childhood dreams
of glory and legend, enchantment and song;
I too felt their pull,
heeded their call and let imagination sweep me away –
for a time.
Eventually we move on from the past,
accepting its existence, its wonder, sometimes its pain,
its place in who we have since become –
and so did I, from the fanciful paths of yesterday
to the more grounded ones of today and tomorrow.
Or so I thought.
For, of late, and a litte while before,
I have been tending a magic all my own;
not the magic I'd envisioned, the kind of fire and ice,
light and fury –
the kind of word and verse.
Now I voice my thoughts in phrase and letter,
birthing a new, separate being;
a being of explanation, of concepts and sensation,
with a life all its own, on the page and in my heart –
parts of me, grown in my mind and given form as poetry.
And now I've discovered, it's this kind of magic I prefer –
the dreams of the past truly can't compare
to the realities of today;
not when I can take the barest thought, slightest inspiration,
and change it into something so much more.
Not when I've become not only myself, but a vessel,
a repository for idyllic words to come coursing through –
for my muse inhabits my mind, beside me,
forever changing my outlook and my output;
yes, that's my kind of magic.
tell ‘em no appetite, couldn’t even eat a bite
body’s weak and I’m wobblin’, can’t stand upright
my mind’s goin’ in and out, what I’m feelin’ ain’t right
but everything is alright because my stomach lookin’ tight
im consumin’ zero calories, pursuin’ fake realities,
killin’ myself to be perfect, thinkin’ it’s all worth it
nothin’ in my stomach and way too much on my mind
getting rid of all the calories, man i feel so inclined,
and it’s crazy cause they’re blind, everything’s fine,
except my waistline is declining because I am never dining
inside i’m dying, have to keep trying, continue with all the lying
your grip, it’s so binding, don’t feel like resigning
with the stomach pain, I feel the gain from my strain,
it’s so much on my brain I just couldn’t abstain
from releasing some pain about fearing weight gain
****’s been driving me insane, needing IVs in my vein
i can’t take this pain, pop a pill on the low just to silence my brain
vision blurred while I’m drivin’, can’t remain in my lane
swervin’ down the road, my mind goin’ insane
heart rate increasin’ with my speed as I drive faster,
i can’t do it anymore, it’s ‘bout to be a disaster…
Ground of Formless Realities
Ground Zero
AN APPEAL TO MAKE IT ONLY A GANDEN OF GOD- A PLACE OF PEACE
AND NON-VIOLENCE ONLY.
( The poem is dedicated to all those who lost their precious lives on 9/11)
My heart aches and emotions start bleeding
Remembering the pain and agonies of those
Who lost their lives, while we all remained watching only?
Cursing the helplessness, that we
Could not do any thing to save
A life, a tear from eyes of mothers and wives;
Brothers, sisters and lovers or beloveds.
Or the dear ones, who were there, just inside.
The disaster was happening, right
Before our eyes full of tears.
The glaring fact of brutal and unforgivable deed
Tearing apart its people hearts in pieces and a nation’s pride
Had moved the entire world except those
Who believe in the faith of violence and misdeeds?
Let us keep now that place ‘Ground Zero’
A place of Peace and Non violence
Where kindness and love can be seen in every branches and trees
Where Nature may exists in its serene beauty and coolness
Let there be no bricks and walls
No pits and falls
And no sound of any kind except the
Sound of kindness and love and the music of nature
Which we can hear coming from birds and flowers
From plants and trees and water running streams.
Let us make it a Garden of God.,
In the memory of those who lost their lives
And kept their nation’s pride high.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 10th Sept. 2010
DEDICATION: The Poem is dedicated to
all my fellow Americans.
And this dedication is not only from me
but from all the peace loving people of India.
We are with you in the hour of your grief.
Ravindra
black reality…
maimed and killed on video:
daily news tv.
injustice must go---
what’s seen is no enactment;
it’s real as was meant.
all of this crap stop.
our lives are in jeopardy;
by hands of rogue cops.
no justice, no peace---
empty chants easily ignored;
when will the breach cease?
attempt self-defense,
and we’re a violent threat:
blacks with no damn sense.
next season will be:
keeping up with the new blacks---
hook on being free.
remember the dead---
no sequel will be for them:
they are really dead.
yes, we are alive---
fighting to the very end:
that our heirs survive!
let’s keep faith on set---
her flame must never go out;
she’s never failed yet!
faith---the horizon---
waits upon the rising sun
justice has been won!
The pregnant dream vs the naked existence.
The healthy belligerent vs sanguine invalid.
The buoyant child vs the cavillous pensioner.
The all-giving African vs the all-recieving European.
The befriended neighbour vs the ostracized man.
The kaleidoscopic optimist vs bleak pessimist.
The raw truth vs the falsified lie.
The low-key good Samaritan vs the ostentatious donator.
The good vs the bad.
Feeling Realities Emotionless Emptiness
Free
The thought of feeling free,
What does it feel like to be free?
Is it as free as the rain that falls down on our face, laced with the cleansing that is needed.
Feeding the hardship and emptiness conquered by our souls.
Clouded judgement misplaced emotions.
Everything seems to move in slow motion, with a lethal dose of realities empty potion.
Does anyone care of the bigger notion.
Coming together or is it better that these words fall on deaf ears. Due to fear, and killings ever single year.
Heartaches blended in ones chest.
Thinking out loud, shrouded by the explosion of cries in the streets.
Wars at home, others feeling the sting of just wanting to be left alone.
Atone for the sake of the unforgiving, no more blue skies.
Just a handful of goodbyes.
While reading the ADMIRABLE novels of *Maugham
My mind drifted to the enchanting streets of Paris.
Teaching the plays of Moliere, my roamings started
Over CAVING *National theatre of Paris, or the Globe.
Next day reading aloud the poem “My luv was like a red…”
The captivating poem of the bard Robert Burns of *Eyre
Shifting to Dublin to feel the BOUNTY of *the Abbey
And the play School for Scandal of Richard Sheridan.
There are patterns and patterns of fascinating dreams
And I knew creativity and genius do face monolith
Like Mark Twain I had no unpleasant or stressful HOVELS
As is said daydreaming or dreams are derided zarebas
But can be constructive in some contexts of fine arts or science
Proved to be TRANSPARENT realities in the later years of my life
Visiting all the dreamed-of-places of my day-dreaming raptures.
But still daydreaming has not left me as I have still dreams of
Visiting the entrancing lands of Anna Karenina and *Nora Helmer.
+++++++++++++++
Date:2-4-14
Form: Free Verse
Eighth Place win
Contest by Shadow Hamilton
HUMANITIES REALITIES
The morality rate is at an all-time low
Disparity runs ramped in the streets
The reality of it all screams out "NO"
While everyone's volcanity seethes in heat
The fatality of decency, the mundanity of life
Lost vitality in heart, mind, body , and soul
The profanity we curse caused by pain and strife
Trying to think with a mentality like a 5 year old
The inanity of our Spirituality is cause for concern
Fearing the brutality of he who holds the keys
The formality in how we all just wait our turn
While people in urbanity walk around on their knees
The insanity of humanity, such a depressive state
Exhausting our veracity beating on one another
The criminality in our belief, the fires burn in hate
Glamourizing the totality of pitting brother against brother
01/25/17
Welcoming your arrival vibrantly were your exuberant parents, like angels reveling for your grand entrance to this haven of goodness prepared by God through your family. Being the first born and the only girl, you were the princess who delighted your relatives, and the adorable sister to your brothers. With them, you beheld the Lord’s wondrous blessings, as by faith, you trusted Him- His might, mercy, and miracles. Amidst outside turbulence and tribulations, you witnessed the Creator’s graciousness’ generosity and greatness’ glory as you grew and glowed in your home’s security. Nevertheless, your early departure to be with the breath-Source seemed to cause obscurity, dimness and gloom to your abode. Yet this was just momentarily. Though there was weeping, your loved ones knew in their hearts that you are in the best place since you are with the Saviour, walking now on streets of gold in your mansion…waiting for them in the grand eternal heavenly reunion.
birth grants earthly breath
offers God’s eternal life ---*
to win over death
*Romans 6:23 For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
September 4, 2019
10th place, "Angels Danced" Premier Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Lu Loo; judged on 9/5/2019.
sitting outback
...evenings...
under solar lights
...with the cat...
stirs perceptions
...normally obscured...
from thought of
...realities...
relative creatures
...observe...
as a norm
...differing patterns...
grouped
...by brain cells...
and manifesting as a
...random statistical...
life time-logic
...probability...
problem solving
...self aware creature...
like this
...loving cat...
with her hypnotic
...talking eyes...
stan sand
Hell is a place always burning wicked
deeply flames inside devilish games pop
playing the winner in ending first pride
Getting found out within this falsehood cries
a beggar of their own making caught out
envy crosses paths hiding behind scenes
Turns upside down vanity within vice
friendship's smile becomes vague under the veil
clouds the truth that always shines through the key
Blindly insulting words aches consume pain
with hate loyalty never dies it lives
forever true in a heart that honours
Brightness of the sun
Things are different in them both
Darkness of the moon
By: Misty Leccese
© June 15, 2009