Best Recognizable Poems
Time is not
a ticking clock,
it has
no past, present,
or distinct future;
each moment
woven
forever
in the
fabric of
creation
is eternal and
as infinite as space
yet,
recognizable.
(Yalto)
07/02/2020
Time- 8 Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: A Dear Heart
Ellie was just three months old,
When she was brought to our sanctuary,
A safe haven was our fold.
She was an orphan, her mother,
Her sister, her aunt, her brother,
All chased and shot, and left to die,
From our sad experience we knew,
That probably a foul mouthed,
Red faced, sun frazzled man
Whose muscled legs would look
Disgusting,
And who with red eyes bulging
Would say,
What a booty,
We have in the truck today.
He would generate an excitement,
Of the atrocity they had
Committed, saying they would
Receive a bonus this month
Added to their pay.
And what was their booty,
A truck full of tusks
Elephants killed when it
Was still light,
Until dusk
Too dangerous at night.
A war between poachers
And rangers
How could rangers,
Gentle souls, who loved animals,
Equal the poachers trained brutality,
Who had not a trace
Of humanity.
Baby Ellie
Was found,
Starving, scared and cold,
Somewhere in the African bush
Almost dead,
But she survived a shot to the head.
We had other young orphans,
They all would play
As baby elephants do,
And slowly Ellie became stronger.
Her mummy who faced
Horrific slaughter,
Would have been so proud of
Her daughter.
Rehabilitation was done,
It was both work and fun.
Eight months later we all
Thought that it was time,
For Ellie to be with her own kind,
And knew she would find
In the African bush, a new
Family who would care
And love her.
Clumsily she got into the truck,
Perhaps it was fear that
Brought the smell of death near,
Awkwardly.
And hesitantly she walked
Down the ramp,
A mama elephant spied her first,
And with their recognizable gait,
And heavy weight,
Walked to one another,
Swinging their trunks,
And so, they met,
And side by side they walked
To the nearby water pan,
Our hearts sang,
As Ellie turned and let out
A loud,
But proud,
Thunderous trumpet,
Thank you she meant,
I love you too.
Ellie had finally
Come home,
To her own.
I began to tell of the two pens (my couplet) I always carry tucked away in my shirt
pocket, and of my humble closet which contains nary a pocketless shirt.
My thoughts drifted to what by.. and how I am inspired, when my love and I began speaking
of a subject very dear to me.
When we finished .... in what I believe to be an infused prayer,...perhaps inspiration to
some,... I saw what seemed to be liquid glass like droplets ..falling slowly from above ..
as a slow motion shower into an atmosphere of what may have been, space and time. I saw
no earth or sky.
These liquid glass droplets were falling without disruption through a pellucid barely
recognizable outline of a figure that I perceived to be a poet.
Somewhere from within I asked why the poet could not be lined somehow with a shell to
capture these apparently valuable liquid glass treasures. They were so clear that the
atmosphere through which they were falling, appeared as a gloom gray.
I understood that these treasures cannot be contained or retained. They must fall
through the poet who must also be like these liquid luculent treasures in order that these
particular gifts may come through the poet ..continuing to transform same and all others who
allow these treasures to permeate them.
There is no clearer description within me to give. ...
And then... I was no longer free and came back into the pain,
discomfort and seemingly bloated entity
within this shell.. that I call me.
America, why did you stray from the old way.
A constitution put forth, the foundation of our land,
barely recognizable what was originally Jefferson's hand.
Tarnished and smudged by misinterpretation,
overindulgence and greed, to satisfy political,
judicial, and journalistic need.
Once majority rule, now bordering on ridicule,
the law of the land, ever changing, meeting demands,
of whoever takes a stand.
America, why did you stray, parents unable to discipline,
fear children undisciplined now rule, school in chaos,
students unruly, guaranteed to pass, unprepared for their future,
parents unsure, wish for the past, hope the next generation,
won't be like the last.
America, why did you stray, streets used to be a place to play,
neighbors knew one another, socialized every day,
doors left unlocked, nothing to fear, families stayed close,
helped one another, took care of mother.
Now drugs rule the day, hate and crime more common than play,
multiple locks symbolic of today, rarely talk to a stranger,
living in fear; life no longer precious, taken away,
day after day, the bloody count rises, a country in crisis,
victims pay, guilty appeal, courts give them the best deal.
Nobody protests for victims rights, put a murderer to death,
they scream all night.
America, why did you stray, hatred and bigotry alive
and well today, nationalities split, long for the old way,
when an American, was just an American, now hyphenation,
the accepted way.
America, why did you stray, once an industrial giant
you gave it away, too high a standard for industry to pay,
moved out of country, the new American way, unemployment,
poverty, homelessness rapidly increasing, ruined lives,
while billions are spent on so called allies.
America, why did you stray, what's written today,
barely address the wrongs building every day,
religion is accepted, God is not,
country divided, politically split,
presidential bashing provides journalistic wit,
hatred and bigotry, live for it.
America why did you stray, new chapters every day,
really a damn shame.
~Glenn Miller~
(acrostic)
G-lenn Miller, his music is so wonderfully sublime, enchanting.
L-istening to his "Moonlight Serenade" makes me think of love so tender.
E-ndless joy, in my heart,his music always brings to me. His given
N-ame was,Alton Glenn Miller.He was born in Clarinda, Iowa, U.S.
N-otoriously,performed the trombone.His Glenn Miller Orchestra is divine
M-usician arranger,composer,and great band leader in the swing era.
I-n The Mood",is onother one of my favorite music pieces of his to this day.
L-ittle Brown Jug" "American Patrol" "Tuxedo Junction" and so many more, his
L-egacy is filled of of so much dancing and romance under a moonlit and stars.
E-ntertaining the troops was something very close to his heart.Glenn Miller,
R-emains one of the most famous and recognizable names of the big band era.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2015
July.21.2015
Author's notes:
My humble poem tribute to one of the greatest and most
unique bandleaders of the big band era,Glenn Miller.
One of my very favorite band leader I personally
love and enjoy hearing the most.I listen to his music
for many years now.And I believe that theres no one like him,
his music can never be duplicated by anyone.
His beautiful music just transcends time and space,forever.
(Born March 1, 1904- Missing December 15,1944)
Years active 1923-1944
In 2003 Miller, received a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.
His plane dissapeared while flying over the English Channel.
His remains and that of his crew has never been found.
Miller's status is missing in action up to this date.
Long live the King of Swing!
Nick's descent,
his thoughts neutralized
words that spill out, hobbled
nonsensical
dementia stifles all intentions,
reason eroding
wounded bewilderment
sometimes he slips into Greek
his first language that crosses an invisible
border
self propelled
unexpected
a weightless swim through memory's deepest weeds
once was the warm smell of happiness
once he had his footing
a toughness that knew few limits
warrior worthy,
an emblem of defiance
but things creep beyond the fence of normal
he holds his proud visage still
Athenian brow, marbled composition
complex dynamics to fight submission
a gentle dignity
even as the recognizable world moves
like a mudslide
pressing in
Poem written November 21, 2021 (revised Jan. 1st/22)
Contest: This or That Volume 8
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
The simplicity of life
Transparent as black glass
Bordering my ever contemplating mind
And the annoyingly optimistic
High pitched
And easily recognizable
Music of the Beatles
Struggles to overcome
my black soul
And forces the image of Paul and John
As they point in my direction
And shout for all to hear
And all to know
That I'm the real nowhere man
Making all my nowhere plans
For nobody
Just me
Alone in this place
No signs
To tell me where i am
No direction
To show me where to go
All of the houses
Match
No cars
No people
Just a dog
Barking in the distance
constantly
Every second
Of every day
Every night
Of every year
And nothing I can do
To silence the painful
Racking
And never ending noise
As it slowly drives me
Out of my mind
Every second
Of every day
Every night
Of every year
No sleep exists
No thought is clear
And when the lights go out
The grunting starts
Coming from under the bridge
But when I go
To inspect
There's nobody there
Just the growling
Of a disgruntled homeless man
Who's house I picture
Is now floating down
This never ending river
Of noise
As the snoring
The water
And the barking
harmonize
To form an overwhelming lullaby
Dulling my mind
As it goes on
forever
Woof
Snore
Whoosh
Woof
Snore
Whoosh
Pounding my ears
Constantly
Every second
Of every day
Every night
Of every year
When I look into some people’s eyes,
I see NOTHING.
Yet in other people’s eyes,
I see SOMETHING…
Distant, yet recognizable,
And I want to get closer.
But when I look into your eyes,
I see EVERYTHING,
And when our eyes meet,
Our souls collide,
And ANYTHING is possible.
In your eyes,
I am healed.
Her personality blooms like a daisy.
The peace and prosperity her presence brings.
The warm feeling of love people have for her.
Her voice is recognizable.
She cannot be replaced.
She is a caregiver.
A mother.
My mom.
My mother may not like to cook.
She may not like to shop.
She may not be like a lot of moms,
But she is my mom.
My only mom.
She is unmistakably the best mom.
Do not be offended,
This is my personal opinion.
But yes,
She is the best.
Mothers are kind,
Mothers are sweet.
Mothers guide us in everyday life.
Mothers are there to give help and advice.
My mother.
Ode to my mother.
For all the hard work you do,
To keep me alive,
Healthy,
And most of all,
Happy.
Thanks mom!
An awesome allures dances amid your words.
Bearing thoughts at daybreak until hope stays life.
Carmel candy lips wait for your cupid’s arrow.
Daisy chains you saved for happily-ever-after.
Eloquent egression when depression arrives.
Fields of fresh flowers float to your creative mind.
Generously given fruit from your poet’s grapevine.
Honorable choices carry life enchantment.
If imperfection ignites, God’s forgiveness arrives.
Judgment left daily in your Savior’s strong hands.
Keeping calamities of your life in his care.
Laughter allocated when love’s timing is right.
Nice actions for others that make your soul swell.
Messages and miracles are recognizable unto you.
Omnipotent Father loves you and oversees life.
Passion of Christ helps you overcomes imperfections
Questions of self worth must bounce far away.
Remember the joys that you had some other day?
Stay strong in your hope and forgive other’s words.
Today, this poem is all about you, and your heart.
Uniquely understanding, you are a child of God.
Vicious ramblings through the mind are hurtful to you.
Words, if forgiven might alleviate bad memories.
Xanadu can be found in life’s folds and your focus.
You have much good within you, Catie, this and more.
Zealously zip past the lows in your life; happiness follows.
November 9, 2014
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: It's All About Me
Sponsor Catie Lindsey
Bountiful goodness of squash, pumpkins and gourds decorate hay bales
Elaborate labyrinth of vines dried by August suns lean against twilight fences
Autumn colors of browns reds and oranges and a flash of yellow light the way
Uniquely different each time yet recognizable from one fall to the next
Trickling leaves surround lazy sleeping cat shadows, illuminating joy.
Intricate webs made by Indian Summer spiders sparkle in corners of our porches
Football season unveils friendly animosity amid the joyous coolness of autumn
Ultimate prettiness resides in this well thought out palette of our master artist
Luxurious pieces of kindling lead to a red hot bonfire adding ambiance to the night
Flush with butterscotch colored maize peppered with red and black kernels,
Autumn magic has no comps. She is her own category, unchallenged
Lovely in her unparalleled radiance, honored with the year’s prettiest skies
Languishing in comfortable repose, not understanding her magnificent innocence.
Written 9-10-2018 Beautiful Fall Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
~Glenn Miller~
(acrostic)
G-lenn Miller, his music is so wonderfully sublime, enchanting.
L-istening to his "Moonlight Serenade" makes me think of love so tender.
E-ndless joy, in my heart, his music always brings to me. His given
N-ame was, Alton Glenn Miller.He was born in Clarinda, Iowa, U.S.
N-otoriously,performed the trombone.His Glenn Miller Orchestra is divine.
M-usician, arranger,composer,and great band leader in the Swing Era.
I-n The Mood", is another one of my favorite music pieces of his to this day.
L-ittle Brown Jug" "American Patrol" "Tuxedo Junction" and so many more, his
L-egacy is filled of so much dancing and romance under a moonlit and stars.
E-ntertaining the troops was something very close to his heart. Glenn Miller,
R-emains one of the most famous and recognizable names of the big Band Era.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2015
November.28.2018
- “Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
- Mark Twain
Author's notes:
My humble poem tribute to one of the greatest and most
unique bandleaders of the big band era,Glenn Miller.
One of my very favorite band leader I personally
love and enjoy hearing the most.I listen to his music
for many years now.And I believe that theres no one like him,
his music can never be duplicated by anyone.
His beautiful music just transcends time and space,forever.
-Born March 1, 1904- Missing December 15,1944-
(Years active 1923-1944)
In 2003 Miller, received a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.
His plane dissapeared while flying over the English Channel.
His remains and that of his crew has never been found.
Miller's status is missing in action up to this date.
Long live the King of Swing!
You can travel the four thousand miles of the Nile
to its source and never find it.
You can climb the five highest peaks of the Himalayas
and never recognize it.
You can gaze through the largest telescope
and never see it.
Arthur Sze
To be a part of landscape
From a distance landscape has a
recognizable outline.
A skin mite, grazing fleshy meadows
grotesque microscopic cow,
has no concept of the human form it feeds from.
Just as a mountain in close proximity
is no longer symbolic of its form,
romance and the imagination of it
is reduced to a frozen, physical obstruction
that is a challenge to survival.
The skin mite tumbles, a huge force
has torn it's clawlike hooves from
living apertures, it falls
with flakes of dead turf into a
depthless void, unoticed
by the scratcher,
and the mountain climber sees the
blinding wall of snow that
flashes by him as he falls,
unoticed by the mountain.
Thoughts froth, crest, and merge through ocean’s
indiscriminate wandering, no recognizable
beginning or end like smoke on the wind,
melding, melting, fusing coalescing.
Reality a fragile grasp held on
a two-dimensional canvas once white,
clean, stretching taunt, taunt as the
implausible reality of our existence-
existence standing, stranding, hair, fur, frond's
weaving about crowns of trees in rye fields.
Everything alive, writhing, wanting,
needing, thriving, dying-skin crawling reality
like orange oil on the hollow cheeks of despair.
Pain, defies, belies, confusion's frame stretching
upon illusion's claim-eye to hand, hand to brush
the clean, white, membrane between brain pan and
paint pan. No recognizable beginning or end
melding, melting, fusing, coalescing-gone.
Self-Portrait with Fur Cap, Bandaged Ear & Pipe
Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890 Dutch)
First Published in Five Poetry Magazine 2013
~Glenn Miller~
(acrostic)
G-lenn Miller, his music is so wonderfully sublime, enchanting.
L-istening to his "Moonlight Serenade" makes me think of love so tender.
E-ndless joy, in my heart,his music always brings to me. His given
N-ame was,Alton Glenn Miller.He was born in Clarinda, Iowa, U.S.
N-otoriously,performed the trombone.His Glenn Miller Orchestra is divine
M-usician arranger,composer,and great band leader in the swing era.
I-n The Mood",is onother one of my favorite music pieces of his to this day.
L-ittle Brown Jug" "American Patrol" "Tuxedo Junction" and so many more, his
L-egacy is filled of so much dancing and romance under a moonlit and stars.
E-ntertaining the troops was something very close to his heart.Glenn Miller,
R-emains one of the most famous and recognizable names of the big band era.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2015
July.27.2017
- “Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
- Mark Twain
Author's notes:
My humble poem tribute to one of the greatest and most
unique bandleaders of the big band era,Glenn Miller.
One of my very favorite band leader I personally
love and enjoy hearing the most.I listen to his music
for many years now.And I believe that theres no one like him,
his music can never be duplicated by anyone.
His beautiful music just transcends time and space,forever.
-Born March 1, 1904- Missing December 15,1944-
(Years active 1923-1944)
In 2003 Miller, received a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.
His plane dissapeared while flying over the English Channel.
His remains and that of his crew has never been found.
Miller's status is missing in action up to this date.
Long live the King of Swing!