Best Rein Poems
superfluous drizzle
this tranquil cottage scene
April’s meadowlark sigh
sweetly symphonic slopes
green glistened gradient
hillside reeds rejoice flat
rejuvenation blessed
by philanthropic sun
illustrious wisdom
showers ivory slates
of winter remembrance
villagers swim downstream
lips kiss glimmered ripples
madly in love with reflections
how quickly forgotten
all quickly forgiven
natural mortality rates
the river wisely runs
babbles off mortified
naturally misanthropic
immortal tethers rein
superfluous drizzle
3/7/2017
the mind beauty deep
electric storm of wild thoughts —
we control the reins
1/28/2020
Senryu on Mind Poetry Contest
Jenish Somadas
Locked in the history through the doors of his mind
Are the remains of an unwritten contract he signed.
The rules he lived by with his own flesh and bone,
Wrote in his blood and signed alone.
An Indian father or a Spanish bride,
The white mans greed won’t alter his stride,
The black mans courage with endurance within,
Mixed with trials errors and mortal sin.
Through the hardship and horses through courage and pain
These are the hands that held the rein.
Annie Oakley, Kitty Wilkins and Bell Star,
Combined lace with leather and created a gender scar.
From Picket, Custer, and Crazy Horse,
These are only a few who would not alter their course.
And those less know on Oregon’s trail,
Who sold all they had and to the west set sail.
Chisholm, Goodnight and French, some of the Cattle kings,
They all are the reason a cowboy sings.
And their blood still flows through our veins,
These are the hands that held the rein.
Forgive them for they knew not what they done,
As they settled the west with hand and gun.
Fought for open space they went through,
Not knowing that greed and politics followed them too.
Restless by nature a curious kind,
Searching for answers they will never find.
An unwritten code he rides for the brand,
It pumps through the veins into the soul of this man.
He gathers those memories and tries to remain,
These are the hands that held the rein.
Writing no letter for he can’t but he would,
To who he’s not sure but it is understood,
There is no place to send it anyhow,
So he saddles his pony and rides for the cow,
Sings a song and says a poem in rhyme,
To cut the quiet and pass the time.
That helps keep the stories of his horse and life,
As he sings of a friend and dreams of a wife.
Through the doors of his mind those memories remain,
For these are the hands that held the rein.
Like shuffling a deck he’s held in his hand
He has gambled his life and made a stand,
And made a vow he will try to fulfill,
With the luck of the draw his blood flows still.
To the next generation, with changes in time,
We still hear his stories in song and rhyme.
And if one more day could be spare
For the songs sung and poems shared
Let him live just one more day,
Let him ride for the brand and draw his pay.
In our future let our history not be in vein,
For our hands are now what hold the rein.
Rein Drops
The reindeer were pulling for Santa
They struggled to get past a canter
He said they were flying
Like ducks that were dying
But that was just lighthearted banter
But what Santa wasn’t to know
Was Rudolph was gasping to go
His guts started grumbling
Then, excrement tumbling
He pebble-dashed Ontario
1 December 2018
For Carolyn Devonshire’s
Christmas Limerick contest
We carry in us
the genes of our parents;
we carry in us
the Soul of Our Nation;
the sins – and, more
important – the climbing out
of valleys, to higher peaks of
Spiritual Truths and Values:
Whether one's ancestor born slave or free-man,
whether born in poverty or the-lap-of-luxury – just
born in the United States of America,
has been a blessing envied by vast numbers
of suppressed societies throughout the world, while
cursed by their Gutless Leaders. Don't let
Marxist Lies and Filth be the
Law of our Precious Land, purchased with the
proud blood of past Patriot's, and now
protected by presently serving honorable,
selfless men and women of the USA Joint Armed Forces –
Let God Rein, and not Evil, Twisted Ideologues.
beneath the frothy rapids
along splashy river shallows,
strewn with sunken rocks,
crawls a delicate sand shrimp,
slender and transparent,
the color of colorless cellophane;
having long discovered
the right body tilts and moves,
it is able to rein in and ride on
the fastest, often swirling, flow
of the invisible undercurrent,
gliding to where it wants to go;
but, perhaps the shrimp doesn't
manipulate the current after all,
perhaps it just yields to each
flow and abandons its original
wishes, having been convinced
about what it can and cannot do !
It was a lovely day, for us to meet
A church full of history and ours is now part of it
A fine day sitting by your side
Looking at you at my very sight
Smiling at me, but with gazed
With all what you see as you amazed
Wondering if all of this was real
Pinching your skin, to wake you up
Chorus:
Because I’m real, baby
Pinch me over too, so you’ll believe
I’m real baby, I am here now standing next to you
Coming closer and ready to be a part of you,
It’s our first time to hold hands
A first time to smell each others scent
A first kiss that makes my day
Sweetest kiss I’ve ever tasted
Smile my baby, because I’m here
Hugging you tightly, because I’m real
Pinching your cheek makes me crazy
To prove that we aren’t in fantasy…
Women Who Run Free Rein
Introduction. There appears to be an interesting
phenomena occurring if it is happening. I thought
that only Jack Benny lied about his age which was
being retained at thirty-nine for show business
purposes only. Read on. Jim Horn
Am much older and no longer in a nursery
Of new poets and should celebrate anniversary
About to be arriving by the end of this year
Has anyone's age been known to disappear?
By women over men is much more preferred
Lying about it can you believe has occurred
Another page in history they refused to turn
And now in Poetry Soup hell have to burn.
Have trouble controlling behavior anyway
And up all night writing poetry often stay
Why are women Poetry Soupers allowed to run free rein?
While us men's poems are flushed down the drain.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Invariably a Poet
Let us chase each other‘s urge on scalding heaths,
Like ponies on the gallop without rein,
A deep seat harness cast into oblivion in the spurt to sea green passion‘s cosmic haze.
Equidistant red clouds now they
ripple at the thought of sensual hearts with pine ablaze.
Soaring pulse rate lodger
on the snoop of citrus rue.
Plume of lilac giggles scare the awestruck azure perch bird whose mating patterns seem like beaky pecks.
Homing pigeon instinct gets the better of our maple leaf alliance as we wade through vapid marshes at the foot of Alum-kuh
NB Alum- kuh is escarpment in Iran
Pine as human need
Under the London sky,
Clouds appeared suddenly,
And the sun was lost between them.
Then a rain came, as soft as cotton.
I knew from the news about this time
So I opened the umbrella and walked carefree.
This time, as myself resembles me.
Stuck between dilemmas and feelings,
With a glimmer of hope
that someday there will be only the sun...
.
Out he goes
into the airy of chill
packaged in hide and fleece
Though bundled to warm
the cold tries to still this soul
his bones still rasp
yet his digits beg the pardon
of his pen to his slip
as he marks this occasion
for his digits are frozen stiff
and the thaw brings forth pain
Yet
yet
again winter
(as the poet)
reins
As one might want it to be
might two find it to be
of which in collaboration
I love you for your
dedication
get me right and I'm yours
Keep it real and I'll endure
we gotta a love thing You and me
great for each other
humbled from loves subtleties
yet as sweet
and more distinctive
flavorful and might I mention
Put your kiss on my mouth
sweet as sugar
Darling what that about
Don't get me up
if you aint down
don't show me off
to make me into a clown
tell me you know
what you doing
what's going on