Best Reckoned Poems


Premium Member The House of Spirits

It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents,
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The house of spirits.
Witchery or voodoo’s domain, it is a place of salvation for
Spiritual challenged, listen to the beautiful music they make,
Singing within this their walled cage of brick and mortar, these
Ethereal victims lost.
Here in peace they wait for the light to find them, a waiting chamber,
Of the lords misstep souls, those whom walked off the righteous path,
Yet are not without redemptions wanton of need.
Wanders of limbo’s astral plain, seekers whom roam blindly until 
Finding a doorway threshold, then crossing over, into this the house
Of spirits.
A corridors slender passageway, a way stations layover for those tired
And weary travelers to rest until their final journey’s end comes for them,
Sanctuaries power house of the supernatural.
Behind these red doors dare not the mortal flesh clasp the gilded knockers,
For within are things of the unspoken variety, creature protectors waiting at
Bay for the stray intruder to wander forth upon this sacred ground.
Angels kindred brethren whom seek out evil, destroyers patrolling the
Darker shadows for night stalkers whom wish to feast upon the forsaken.
But light’s white power is a mightier force to be reckoned with, and vanquished
Will the devils spawn into the depths from which they came, into the bowels
Of hell shall these demons be thrown into the blackened pit from which they came?
In the twilight’s ethereal hour, a mid-ways breaking point between light and dark,
A shimmering glow strikes this standing watch tower of abandonment’s forgotten,
And heaven’s flood gates are opened unto them, calling these the lost upwards
Towards nirvana and at last know true peace.
It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents.
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The house of spirits.

BY; CHERYL ANNA DUNN
© Cherl Dunn  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: reckoned, evil, fantasy, fear, god,
Form: Free verse

Milkyway

I am the MILKY WAY.

I am Mechanically Meticulous,
Maneuvering my way through life with
Malleability,
not showing the true Masterpiece of my Mind
(complex like the Milky Way).

I am an Interworking of 
1% Idiocracy,
10% Ineluctable,
15% Incisiveness,
5% Insufficient,
7.5% Insatiable,
2.5% Invisible,
10% Infantile,
and
50% Incomprehensible,
101% of Ian
 (A puzzle).

I am a Lionheart Lilium 
Lucidly blossoming into a 
Lackadaisical dimension
in which I Long to Liberate
my ideas from the Lucifer-Likeness of
the universe that I Live in
(My ideas are being confined).

I am a Kinetic force to be reckoned with,
put on a Kollision Kourse from
Konception to Katastrophe
eradicating those in my way,
(I can’t be stopped)

I am Young,
Yearning for wisdom ahead of my Years,
Yet Yoked by the Youth-like longing
of my elders
(caged by the generations of adults wishing to be a child, keeping me child-like).

I am Weary,
Wainscoted with Worry,
by the World I once Welcomed With Wide arms,
Wondering When the Worries created by my past Will
Wither away
(distressed by my past).

I Am An Adventurous 
Apollo 1,
Abstracted then Awakened by the
Annihilation of myself,
forced to Admit
Absolute failure,
but then Amazed by the gate of success
(I do Fail, but I must learn from failure).

I am Yawning 
at the Earth’s attempt to impress me,
Yet I Yell eternally
at it’s ignorance to the 
great wonder that I contain.

I am the MILKY WAY.
Categories: reckoned, space,
Form: Alliteration

Premium Member Corona Virus Cov-19

CORONA VIRUS (COV-19)

The Black Death, or bubonic plague, which happened nearly 700 years ago, (in the three year period of 1347 to 1351 in which it lasted) took the lives of an estimated 75 to 200 million people.  It stayed dormant for 300 years.  It then reared its ugly head in Spain and London.  The plague is certainly a devastating entity to be reckoned with.  The attack by terrorists on 9/11 was a dastardly deed perpetrated by cowards and the death toll was horrendous but by comparison, the Black Death is by far the worse catastrophe ever witnessed by mankind.  In Biblical History, leprosy was the most dreaded disease which maimed and killed many.  But rest assured there are days coming that all the combined plagues of history can compare.  In the Book of Matthew 24:6-13 it reads:  "And you will hear of  wars and rumors of wars.  See that  you are not troubled: for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet.  For nation will rise up against nation, and kingdom against kingdom.  And there will be famines, pestilences, and earthquakes in various places.  All these are the beginning of sorrows.  Then they will deliver you up to tribulation and kill you, and you will be hated by all nations for My name's sake.  And then many  will be offended, will betray one another, and will hate one another."  There is already great evidence of this taking place in government today and all around the world.  You may ask the question, "What does this have to do with the Corona  Virus (COV-19)?  The Corona Virus can be controlled.  The chaos and devastation of Armageddon cannot be stopped or brought under control.  Therefore, it is an undisputed fact that the world will experience a catastrophe far greater than anything that has ever taken place.  Matthew 6:33-34 reads: "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.  Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things.  Sufficient for the day is its own trouble."

Friday, 13 March 2020
Curtis Moorman
For the Corona Virus (COV-19) contest
Categories: reckoned, anxiety, death, faith, fear,
Form: Narrative

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Dragon Eyes

She enters the fray like a storm;
thunder and lightning in her wake.
And a deluge of tears follows;
the very ground appears to quake.

She's an explosion of fireworks;
as spectacular as the dawn.
And igniting flames of fury;
in a blinding flash, she is gone.

A lady to be reckoned with;
fire flares within her dragon eyes.
And strikes fear in the hearts of men;
exposing their deceit and lies.

Like spheres of fiery energy;
her eyes illuminate the night.
And her aura intensifies;
to a glow of glorious light.
Categories: reckoned, beauty, character, fantasy, feelings,
Form: Quatrain

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

There's four ninja turtles
Cleaning up the streets
Trained in the art of ninja karate-e
They hide down in the sewers
Watching for criminals
Could it be for real or is it April fools




Teenage mutant ninja turtles
Six foot dudes they can hurtle
Teenage Mutant Ninja turtles
Ancient arts in Japanese circles




Leo, Donnie, Mikey and Raph
Quick with their hands  
And smart with their mouths
Trained by Splinter their sensei rat
Turtle doves with shells on their backs




Teenage mutant ninja turtles
six foot dudes in Aprils journals
Teenage Mutant Ninja turtles
Ancient arts in Japanese circles




Red, orange, purple and blue
Coloured masks to give you a clue
Fast with their feet and their weapons
Teenage turtles a force to be reckoned
Twin katana’s, Bo' that staff
Nun Chaka's, sai, there first class




Teenage mutant ninja turtles
Six foot dudes at your dispersal
Teenage Mutant Ninja turtles
Ancient arts in Japanese circles




These turtle buddies slip and slide
Still in their teens their skills sky high 
Their quick and mean and fast on the scene
Fighting the evil foot clan team
You better believe it, better run fast
These ninja turtles will kick shredders ass




Teenage Mutant Ninja turtles
Round house kicks in reversal
Teenage mutant Ninja turtles
Martial arts in Japanese circles

 

 

 

 

 

Cowabunga!!   what’s up dude??
I love you guys!!  I'm in a digital mood!!

 

 

 

 

© Copyright K.C.Leake
30th October 2014
All Rights Reserved
Categories: reckoned, adventure,
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Sandalwood

They are playing that song again
The one that reminds me of you
It began to rewind as I turned up the dial
from a place long ago that's been bleached for awhile

"California Dreamin" sifts through the air
like the sandalwood incense, that used to be there.

       "All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey
        I've been for a walk ....On a winter's day"

There's an image I've kept, still tucked within my mind
It used to fill me with envy, until it reckoned with time 
You at twenty-one, wild and beautiful in a way that I could never be
Perched upon your back-porch steps, beneath the russet trees
Soaking up the morning sun, stroking your guitar

I only knew you then, as that 'hippie" type of girl
The one who lived next-door that year
Your candles shimmering, bangles glimmering
A tangle of strawberry hair, that flirted with the wind 
Childlike and fair, devil-may-care, long gypsy skirts,
and a peasant look that took one's breath

The faint scent of sandalwood, swept into my yard
from your wide-opened windows, wide-opened doors,
while I was wrangling a baby on my hip
or hanging bleached-white sheets onto a clothesline

I had often wished I were you, ... flitting about, barefoot in the morning air
But, I was teaching my toddler to tie his shoes
Both of us twenty-one, ... on two sides of a cedar fence, ...
a thousand light years apart

    "All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey
        I've been for a walk,...on this winter's day
          All the leaves are brown.  Songs have come and gone
               Seasons had their songs, but what became of you?"
           
_____________________________________________________
Categories: reckoned, friend, longing, nostalgia, women,
Form: Narrative


Open Call

Business is booming and there's no end in sight, Death came to a huge 
decision tonight.

He called in his partners Pain and Sorrow and said "we're holding auditions 
tomorrow."

"Auditions, Pain asked, what are you looking for?" For a third partner and he 
reached for the door.

The very next morning hanging there on the wall, was a huge flyer 
reading "DEATH'S OPEN CALL"

Come one come all but you better give your best audition, because we only need 
to fill one position.

As the day moved along Sorrow watched in disbelief, next in the line was his old 
buddy Grief.

Grief walked in and handed them his lengthy resume', thank you for coming 
friend you'll know by the end of the day!

The auditions had been going on steady for hours, the decision would be tough, 
they all had great powers.

Next in line would be Misery and he gave them his best, "Thank you for coming, 
wait outside with the rest".

Death having some free time sat in on the last few, after over 1000 auditions it 
was now time to choose.

Death left the decision up to Pain and Sorrow; they would just fill him in by 
tomorrow.

All that he asked was they used their best discretion, when suddenly in walked 
the vixen Depression.

With eyes dark as night dressed all in black, she walked to the stage and the pair 
just sat back.

She said, "Am I too late for this open call? I just happened to notice the flyer on 
the wall." 

We'll give you a shot now show us what you can do; this is only because we've 
both heard of you.

They told her to give it her best shot and that's just what she did, for her first 
victim a sweet little kid.

His name was Billy he was only 13, she found him alone sitting out on a swing.

You see he had just lost his parents in a huge fire; to be with them again was his 
only desire.

She climbed in his head and she did her thing, Billy took his life right there on the 
swing.

"WOW" they exclaimed lady you are good, come with us now to see the "man with 
the hood".

A new chapter has started with Death’s open call and it all started will a flyer on 
the wall.

No longer a trio, now a quartet, a new force to be reckoned with this you can bet!
Categories: reckoned, death, imagination, pain, time,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Cotton Candy Castles

Cotton candy castles

When you look closely at an idea,
it has no weight.
The holes seem to weigh
more than the thought itself
The idea can never happen.
It can never be real.
It is too preposterous,
too stupid.
The light is shined into
the cavity of a brain, and
the ideas melt away like
bits of spun sugar melting
in your mouth. Small, Insignificant
Fluff never to be seen again.
You try to save the fluff.
Keep it from the light.
But no matter how 
the idea hides, it cannot
escape the scrutiny of the
world. The idea flees
from the light, and 
collides with another
idea fleeing the same fate.
The holes from one idea
fill in the holes of the other.
The idea grows 
Bigger, and collides
with more ideas. Their
holes gaining more and
more weight until
they are what the world calls
concrete.
Now the idea is something
to be reckoned with.
The idea could change the
world. It could bring an
alternate eternity
into life. The idea could
do ANYTHING.
It continues to grow
little spun fibers of
fluff gathering speed,
gathering power, gathering
weight.
Until the weight is too
much to hold the holes
together, and the idea
is scattered, like fluff
in the wind. The weight
of the wholes, is more than
the weight of the idea.
Categories: reckoned, dream,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Revel In the Moment

Revel in the moment of now;
this moment won't ever repeat.
Live your life on the edge of wow;
don't let yourself feel incomplete.

This moment won't ever repeat;
cherish every fleeting second.
Don't let yourself feel incomplete;
in a way you had not reckoned.

Cherish every fleeting second;
get the most out of every day.
In a way you had not reckoned;
time is swiftly slipping away.

Get the most out of every day;
live your life on the edge of wow.
Time is swiftly slipping away;
revel in the moment of now.
Categories: reckoned, beautiful, feelings, happiness, inspirational,
Form: Pantoum

Premium Member The Last Token

I was five years old when the war was over 
August, 1945, and my daddy sent word 
He was on his way home from Guadalcanal. 
Grandma was already preparing a feast 
For the family to celebrate his homecoming. 
Momma took her last ration token from the box 
She kept high on the kitchen counter cabinet 
And filled up the old, worn-down Chevy with gas 
So she could pick up my daddy at the bus stop. 

Everyone was super excited except for me. 
You see, I could not remember this man. 
I didn’t know this person coming into my life-- 
Why was everyone so excited? 
He had been gone to war since I was a baby. 
The only man in my life was my grandpa. 
One uncle was fighting with Patton in Italy; 
Another was somewhere in Japan, we thought. 
I tried to ignore the party goings-on, 
And I reckoned I would make the best of it. 

I was climbing the sour cherry tree next to the porch 
When this man I did not know came up the hill. 
He had a duffle bag thrown over his shoulder; 
He wore a white uniform with a strange hat-- 
“A navy man,” he later told me, and he said, “I 
Will make a navy man out of you!” 
 
Later I heard Momma saying she’d taken 
The last token to buy gas she hadn’t needed to. 

FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written 3/22/2021
for the "Last Token" contest
sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
Categories: reckoned, father son, memory, remember,
Form: Narrative

Premium Member A Force To Be Reckoned With

I see the bitterness polluting this world 
a multitude of evil hides then divides 
conquering with twisted visions of democracy 
one joke history repeating past horrors return 

Hurting innocent people tells another story 
bullies who think they are above human justice 
aggressors filled with pride in falsehood 
you will fall heaviest of all

Suffering fleeing war victims as the devil marches forward 
his army is arising from ashes darkness grips our planet
6 children a day dying, 3 world war two show mercy 
for the love of all that holds good in this world

Such hardships giving up everything held dear
Look into your soul and know the mortal truth 
only the blind hide and do not see selfishness 
the one demon followed by others a legion

Fed like animals where is the loving joy that opens arms
Offering comfort to those in need have mercy 
Peace unto this world sings with a warm heart
To love and understand our brothers and sisters plea

Please give them shelter 
feed and clothe their weary bodies 
in their hours of ache 
With open arms I pray to God 

Your salvation love and understanding the scriptures 
we all know what must be done in our Lords name
Protect those families against the demon who hates and destroys families
Watching the news we are tainted with so much ugliness 

lies drip fed to us twisted through the master deceivers hallow heart 
We all know who sits at the head of a fork tongue
Peace is the way forward as greed wants war 
only a fool arms themselves with hate their pride lies in bed with envy 

Cunningly cursing everyone 
curtains raise darkness you will kneel to the light
With power and glory supreme leader at your command 
I bow with open eyes we see the path of complete destruction ahead 

Faith is the sword of truth 
openly we all should do more even in voice help 
Do we stand for something or fall in our sins
I speak one soul because united we are many



Just a note to say Gary on What Kind of People Are We
after reading your piece these words flowed from my heart 
thank you kindly for the insight and powerful pen filled with light and truth
Categories: reckoned, baptism, blessing, christian, earth,
Form: Quatrain

Flights of Fancy

Imagination 
     a force to 
be reckoned with 
   when considering 
the human condition 
Who doesn't have fantasies?
Stardom, erotic fantasies
  athletic, political fantasies 
   capture the minds 
of the multitude 
   The mind needs to 
escape the dull work - a - day world
 and lead the inhabitants of this earth 
  to flights of fancy 
The stars are like
   little time bombs 
which can explode like Roman Candles 
if you consider them
   carefully enough 
   The mind of man 
is still an uncharted ocean 
   where the poets, painters,
musicians and writers
   can paint 
with glorious strokes of fantasy 
"Perchance to dream" as the bard has it 
   Let us praise the dreamers 
   Let us praise the ability to fantasize 
We are glorious shards 
   of a star which 
       shattered 
many millennium ago
Categories: reckoned, fantasy, imagination,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Darren

The day had started normally and no way had I reckoned
when Mum had washed the breakfast pots that stardom was to beckon.
Waiting on the pavement, passing dogs who were not used
to what they saw, jumped up and barked- their owners looked bemused.
Total strangers,  pretty girls, the driver of the bus,
they all queued up to talk to me and some made quite a fuss.
The older folk asked how I was and Mum told them I'm healthy,
the younger ones with phones in hand sneaked up and took a selfie.
A nurse though rarely raised a brow when we walked through the door,
a veteran of lads like me she'd seen it all before.
In A&E* she commented "Lad, let it not be said
you'll ever be short of company with a saucepan stuck on your head".

(*A&E- Accident and Emergency)
© Viv Wigley  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: reckoned, humor, mum,
Form: Light Verse

Firework Maker's Daughter

She wanders through the town in the morning light, the firemaker's daughter, with her brilliant eyes. Her hair is wild and blazing red, and her steps are light as she walk, she treads.
She carries the flame magic, her father's gift that bears his name. She keeps the fires burning hot and bold, and her stories are fascinating and never get old.

The firemaker's daughter, with a lovely heart, she gives her warmth, her refined soul. Her excitement is unbounded as she dances in the flames, and her laughter echoes, warm and tidal.

In the blackness of the night, she is a beacon of light, her flames alight, a guiding sight. The firemaker's daughter is a force to be reckoned with. Her spirit was fiery, and her story was unknown.
© Pranali Vg  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: reckoned, appreciation, art,
Form: Rhyme

Missing Miss Mavis

Life without her
would never be the same
She was the loudest, proudest
most endearingly brash
sugar-sweet and pickle-sour
five-foot-two, force to be reckoned with
that anyone in Yell county had ever met

I confess
I was somewhat obsessed
with Miss Mavis' hair as a child
perhaps it was the fact
that she was the only white woman
I'd ever seen sporting an
honest-to-Oh-My-Goodness Afro

And her hair hadn't always
looked like that
I'd seen photographic proof
pictures from the 60's that showed
her having a mile-high beehive
lacquered with layers of AquaNet
utterly unmovable 
much like Miss Mavis herself

Never married, Miss Mavis' house
was unapologetically pink
in varying shades
Pink carpet, wall-to-wall
pink wallpaper, curtains, bedspread
even the ceiling above your head
pink on the tiles of the bath
pink toilet?! pink sink
pink details down to the
homemade tissue-box cozies
Looking for all the world
like the inside of an old lady 'collector's edition'
Barbie house, with rainbow-colored clashes
of crocheted kitsch thrown about everywhere
piles of clothes draped over chairs
comfy but cluttered, it had a crazy air
of outrageous audaciousness

She was more comfortable
being herself
than anyone I'd ever known
so natural
as if to say
who else would I be?
It never occurred to her
to even try
to become someone else's ideal
She was that real
Categories: reckoned, appreciation, confidence, identity, memory,
Form: Free verse
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Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry

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