Best Refrained Poems
I’ve been bruised and b a t t e r e d
all over this forsaken town,
there’s one thing for sure,
NOTHING IS GOING TO DRAG ME DOWN.
When the darkness prevailed
and the obscurity arrived,
is when I’d never been more
g r a t e f u l to be alive.
I shivered in regret and
remorse called my name,
I thought my life would end
and never be the same.
I was left out to dry in the rain
last these last seven years,
things that brought s o r r o w,
blame and tears.
The grim and dreary days
raced through me like a ghost,
but the l i g h t shined through
me when I needed it most.
I forgave myself and forgot
all my wrongful sins,
and found the majesty of f a i t h
hidden deep within.
I was conflicted and addicted
to shame and torment,
now I see the g o o d,
all the fear is dormant.
Freedom has called my name
and I’m no longer chained,
for I have found r e d e m p t i o n
as the darkness has refrained.
My happiness is contingent
upon my c o m p a s s i o n and hope,
nothing will ever get in the
way of me trying to cope.
The Lord has been my
light and my s a l v a t i o n,
and now I am grateful for
my life’s great creation.
My laughter has replaced
that awful dreaded frown---
I v o w e d to myself…
NOTHING IS EVER GOING TO DRAG ME DOWN!
Never Going to Drag Me Down Contest
October 15, 2017
Dear Alliteration,
First friend, foremost;
Forgetting not,
Shy Allegory,
Dressed in Allusion;
Sweet Anaphora,
How I need thee!
How I need thee!
And Assonance;
Never deep asleep,
Nor rest Refrained,
By Caesura;
Clever Chiasmus;
Who has pause to write,
And write to pause;
Cheeky Consonance,
Agreeing;
Time needs its tick-tock,
Rocked at chimes;
How Didactic,
An Ictus,
Ellipsis,
Is that?
Clink — tinkle;
Cubes in a glass;
Bourbon mist;
Hello;
Onomatopoeia is back,
From visiting,
Palindrome,
At Lake Oxoboxo,
Madam Eve,
Our favorite,
Paradox,
Not pair a ducks,
Nor Parataxis,
She quacked not;
She waddled not;
She flew not;
End stopped;
Did not,
Run into Enjambment,
Iambic,
Pentameter,
On foot nearby;
Rhyme Royal chanting;
Prose babbling,
Out of line,
Screaming;
Vers libre!
Vers libre!
Pathos,
Pity me;
Scan not,
My prosody;
Bravo!
The coins are tossed;
O my dear friends,
In poetry,
Therein lay,
Our Eulogy,
Paradise Lost.
Insomnia, familiar friend,
crawled into bed this summer night
so once again, inflamed with dread
I wander now in pitch of dark
and touch the places, now by heart, that sprawl unstirred by weary minds
This lonely place, where I used to come
where armless grief, and headless doubt
and worry filled the rooms
I know you cold, my land of oz
So ruthless do you change your face
into a place I once refrained
But, don't pretend to make me fear, toxic robber of my sleep
I've known you much too long
You masquerade in shades of gray
And now I know that dark of night, is not the blackest thing
And room by room, I'll play the game
until the light of day
The shadows magnify your art
and though they magnify my loss of sleep
and while I've tossed and turned in vain
I've lost the lonely albatross
that pulled against the grain
From hooded thresholds I embark
to find a language of the dark
A liquid language of a mystic night,
that switches on the light
I've walked the halls of ghosts I knew, and those I hope to meet
I've felt the stares, and shared myself, no secrets left to keep
But not tonight, familiar friend
you bask in myth I understand
I'll fill the tasks that need my hands, until the light of day...
---------------
For Leonora Galinta's Contest
Deep in the hills of Kentucky while picking strawberries from a patch
I hear a deep moan and a groan not to far from where I am at
Rising up to take a peep my fear making me start to sweat
I see a big lump of fur with two black eyes looking back but no sign of a threat
On his back he rolled and stretched his size at least eight feet long
with a jester of his hands he gave a wave for me to come along
Slowly as I approached my curiosity over riding to be refrained
I get a good long sniff of the stench from this beast who is so strange
Nearing close to him he sits up with a groan placing his arms
on his knees seeming quite appeased
Slowly I sit a few feet from him his eyes watching closely
not realizing my basket of strawberries sit between him and me
His eyes have a look of sadness always alone it would seem
scared of people who always want a picture to brag and say he's been seen
With a soft little moan he points to his mouth
a strawberry I give him without any form of doubt
A soft touch of our hands of no fear we now understand
eating our strawberries on this sunny day as if it were all planned
It's been years now but every May and June
I have a dinner date with me and my best friend I now call 'Sam'
The years have aged us both but we have come to understand
that so many creatures on earth have been so misunderstood.
Tammy Reams Contest sponsored by: Skat 'Bigfoot'
Etchings upon my heart, so profound in time
These hues, colored so bright, bringing out an array of light
This love, in healing softened my existence and allowed me to trust
Yet sad, as we parted for the differences were evident and pained;
pained by the physical was he, as I would watch him sleep
curled up in a fetal, his hidden small frame
Today, no evidence of the cancer, and I thank God for the blessings!
I am not selfish, as he moved on to passionately live
For he needed the things in which I could never provide
Someone once said to me that they had a normal life
and it might be a good thing to try
Yet I find my travels amazing and the people I meet daily in life
I smiled gently, as I refrained my opinions publically
leaving them pacified that yet somehow,
there was a bit of encouragement that they had left me
For in this world filled with filth, money and greed among things
It is something I've always refused to conform to really
Sometimes I wonder about him, as I sleep on this life's pillow made of concrete
For I know many struggles, yet I know the Lord is showing me
The easy way is not always the best but the path less traveled
enriches the spirit
At times my flesh reeks of the sinful spoils, that I cannot deny..
Some look upon the stars and ponder great loves gone by
Some think that true love will just fall out of the clear, blue sky!
I say to you now, love is a verb, indeed, I know this to be so
and sometimes after the valleys, our rotten fleshly ways
I awake in the darkness, at dusk, awaiting the dawn to arrive
In the silence, the wind caresses my skin and I remember a different time
and I breathe in deeply to keep the moment that soon I will have to exhale,
with a somber farewell, as my heart hopes for another moment in time,
lest I am left with the depth in my soul to carry of loves tragic goodbye
So, these lessons in life are sometimes blessings in disguise
I know not, why God shows us the things he does each day
I find peace, though I am much different than most, I know
One day the Gallo may be requested for me,
and my more than average, unconventional ways
I merely ask for one thing,
Please do not greet me with pity, along my passing way
~Someone said to me once, they had a normal life and it might be a good thing to try~
Use ink wisely
Think out of the box,
Take people on a trip
That sees them get lost,
In pure imagination
In a sea of forget me not,
That once written, once read
Will always be remembered,
Ink something memorable
That stick in people's brains,
Lurking in the subconscious membrane,
Of the fully awakened mind
That make you seem to others as insane
But the reality is that you are giving others what they crave,
An out of mind and out of world ink
That resonates and then plays,
Over in their minds time and again
And steers them away from the mundane
And the illusory society games,
That render them into flocks of sheep
Compliantly refrained,
From discovering their own truths
And how the ought to live,
Write out words that make other people think
That they are capable of doing anything.
Remembering Old-Time Telephone Service
By Elton Camp
Only a few decades ago, the wireless telephones that have become so much a part of our lives were inconceivable and remained so until the advent of Star Trek in the 1960s. Seeing the crew of the Enteprise in easy, constant contact struck a responsive cord in the public mind. Nevertheless, few of us even imagined that similar technology would become readily available to individuals in our lifetimes.
Outside of towns, telephones were not at all common in private homes. When I was a child in the 1940s, not a house in our immediate community had a telephone. We all used the one at the crossroads grocery store. It paid the phone company to run a line only because Gilley’s Store was on the main road between two fair-sized cities. The more scattered rural areas had no phone lines and thus service was unavailable.
In 1951, when I was in the sixth grade, we finally got a telephone. It was on an eight party line with all eight homes receiving the ring whenever any house in the group got a call. The rings were coded: one through four long rings and one through four short rings. All calls “rang in” at every house, even if it was midnight or early morning.
Zero privacy could be expected on calls. Distinct clicks announced pick-ups by multiple eavesdroppers. The practice was called “listening in.” Actually, nobody seemed to particularly mind as long as the listeners refrained from commenting on the conversation.
Many of our neighbors didn’t have a phone at all. They came to ask to use ours. Even worse, their incoming calls sometimes came to us. “Can I speak to Ronald,” the caller asked. Ronald lived three houses away. Yet, we were expected to go get him while the caller waited. By current standards, that sounds like an outrageous imposition, but nobody objected. People were more inclined to help each other in those days.
Older folks tend to long for the “good old days,” but I think few would want to go back to that type of telephone service.
Way back then when I was just ten
My brain was purely devil's den
All sorts of studies - made me ill
Opened books were my sleeping pills
Started looking at girls - through pane
Way back then when I was just ten
From the elder sis of my friend
Got first love letter - 'was refrained
Playing football was my passion
Wear bell bottom - was the fashion
Way back then when I was just ten
There was Phantom and no Ben Ten
First fight with peers, first taste of blood
First taste of kiss on my taste bud
I used to live - in a bye lane
Way back then when I was just ten
26.01.16
Alone I walk in eerie splendor
Down the path from years so tender
Delighted at last to follow a path from ages past
Following years of youth and plunder
Somewhere along the way changes came wrapped in windy gales,
of promises made , deceptions refrained
Macabre ways put aside while wicked winds died
In favor of newly wedded ties
Strains of ancestors and race , poetry and grace
Relate all things involved in modern ways
As truth fades from his grasp man dares try all
Where nothing is sacred ,no mystery left to bare
One way defines them all
In silence everything is heard , and from nothing comes all
Walk in silence along the way,
And from the place of nothing will come all
This time never seem to come
but right from the beginning
it stood by the door
and never knocked.
Nearer it comes
but acting like a mirage
allowing me privileges,
opportunities, experiences
and Life itself.
Is it the Joy
of having new friends and family?
Or drinking from the cup
of new acquaintances?
Is it the adventure
of a different environment?
And its ability to
create a new personality in me?
I'll surely miss them all
and all that took part
in making my completeness a reality.
I divide my heart into six portions
to my friends,
who are a bridge
to where I am today
and served as the paddle
for my sail to greatness.
to my instructors,
both great and small
who showed me the path
with less thorns and stones
and opened my eyes
to see beyond the hill.
to my 'dears'
who balanced my Life
and made my manly wholeness
an actualization.
to simple familiarities
who shared the fruit of life
from a distance
and protected our respect
like a new born child.
to critics
who trippled the magnitude of my consciousness
and are always down the cliff
when I'm about to fall.
Irrespective of their motive
have kept my reputation
as strong as the toughest compounds of carbon.
To haters,
you make me stay in the right path
and refrained me
from crossing the thin line
between fantasy and reality.
Notwithstanding your contempt
my love for and to you remains
bountiful and pure.
Goodbyes are the hardest words
to say.
But your smiles
are in my genes,
your helping hands,
make up my memories.
And your love is what I see
when my eyes stay closed.
Though we say goodbyes now
I'll always carry you along
wherever I go.
In tears, I say..................
I MISS YOU SO DEARLY.
A young man in overalls
remarked to me:
"How 'bout them Redskins?"
I couldn't think of anything
worthwhile to say, so
I refrained from speaking.
Mr. Spider is an ugly looking creature. He has a hairy face and arms. However, the hairs on the top of his head are somewhat thinner than those on his face, and scattered all over here and there. His hairs looked dark, rough, and stiff, but those hairs in his beard, which covered on his broad and flat face, were grayish white. Mr. Spider has a pair of sharply pointed claws on the end of his thin clumsy-looking finger. Moreover, he has hiding his sharp and crooked teeth behind his bushy beard. His two big, dark, and atrocious eyes never blink or move but fixed on one spot from behind the shadow where he was squatting down.
Ms Butterfly is an elegant high socialite. She always wears the colorful robe. She glides and dances in the air as if she were a piece of gorgeous floating corolla. She didn’t eat any solid food. She flies in the air and stops on one flower bloom to the other for delicacy of sweet nectar. She enjoys it, for it keeps her in good shape and enables her to maintain her coquettish figure forever. Ms Butterfly, however,
is an arrogant and selfish lady. She never considers the feeling of the others. She acted only for her own good, yet she was a just simple lady.
It was a sunny afternoon in early spring when Mr. Spider caught Ms Butterfly in his cobweb. When Mr. Spider saw her in his cobweb, he didn’t wait a moment. He dashed toward his prisoner. However, when he came close enough to grab her with his hands, he refrained from catching her, because he saw her helpless slender body trembling in the gorgeous robe, and her beautiful but fearful eyes, asking him
for mercy.
Since then, Mr. Spider has never left his cobweb. With his fascinating eyes, he has followed and stared at elegant Ms Butterfly from a distance, while comparing his ugliness with a gargoyle and thinking of his cursed life, as if he were Quasimodo on the bell tower of Notre-Dam, watching and admiring tenderhearted, naïve, and lonely Esmeralda.
[Although Ms Butterfly was not deserve for Mr. Spider’s pure and wholehearted admiration because of her frivolous, flighty, and insincere personality.]
Contemplative, taciturn
Willing to commit
An immutable zeal to learn
Endowed with acerbic wit
Endless potential
But having few outlets, to express it
Seemingly aloof or deferential
Unintentionally causing pain
Coming off inconsequential
An indelible stain
Easily misunderstood
Without composure refrained
Annually purge the worries away
Ashes to Ashes, dust in the wind, sway
Old cares beset this past year make fly
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky!
Musically refrained, yearly again
Out! Out! Troubles and pressure's strain
Welcome, Welcome new days ahead don't be shy
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky!
New rhythm, new air celebration of rebirth
Happy days, honorable days upon earth
Wildly welcome; greetings and bye, bye
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky!
For Dr. Mehta's contest Kyrielle-old year to the new year...
He grew his own food,
And sewed his own clothes,
He owed no one,
But shared with everyone.
He rejected larceny,
Refrained from intrigue,
Spurned lust, lies and malice,
Spoke only kindness
And practiced but prudence.
He was a modest man… are we?
All rights released into Public Domain