Best Removed Poems
"The Right Eye Removed"
intuition guides a feline mind
to feel vain glorious
in the poetry of dreams
stretching limits of awareness
velvet pawed
a burnt orange
bittersweet marmalade coat
delicious to kiss
the point between
the ears that listen for signs
mink stole he wears
himself striped around my neck
finding new ways
to purr through his dark night
into the mystery of
his opaque opalus opallios world
his left analytical
glistening topaz
prehistoric amber
shines like glass
black iris blooming
in a pool of honey
questioning ideas
that run through his
greyhound strides
the right eye removed
bone white phantom oculus
poached out by a thief
with a pad, pen and
surgically precise knife
drugged on strong catnip
the discarded damaged marble
thrown in a bin overnight
he works his way around
this bad romance
feels the colours of light
he is sensually sincere
licking necks and ears
and the other's eyes
twin forest jade stones
the foreign ponds
of something new
holding tight
this kamikaze pilot
flying across high rise cupboards
treasure boxes to plunder
tricky to navigate
he is immersed in a new life
the changing colours
of a small heart
with big dreams
romancing streams of
rainbow koi seen in his mind
he is a Japanese ninja warrior
a good luck token
protector of Moonlight
and ground zero
the bed…that he has claimed,
all his
and he is loved
perfection in
the damage of
the war zone delivered
to him at birth
he is free to wonder
and he wanders
this brave and distinguished hunter
preying with delight
he bows on all fours
he stops still
and in the reflection
that is left
I look at him
and I see
we are two
of one mind
searching
for the same
all along
am I her’s,
or is she mine
am I his
or is he mine
it no longer matters
old souls
we belong
in this time
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
Opallios. Greek.
“to see a change in colour”
Opalus. Latin.
“precious jewel”
“Sometimes too much drink is barely enough.” Mark Twain, on Alcoholism
05 July 2015
Poem of the Day - 07 July 2015
Write With the Wit of Twain Contest - 4th Place
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Kim Patrice Nunez
Complete the Lines Contest - Mary Oliver #1 - 3rd Place
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
26 July 2015
Inspired by Frederic Parker's Without Lament - POTD 18 October 2015
Kim Patrice Nunez
19 October 2015
Earth's crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God. And only he who sees
takes off his shoes, the rest sit round and pluck blackberries.
-- Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The more time I share with you
I find me like a wave crashing a distant shore.
Insatiable thirst to drink from your
living pools of water.
Bathed in your furnace fires
in this latter time.
Let me not be the one to pluck
blackberries from the bushes,
But a small flame joined in
your blazing fires.
I am in awe to stunned
to move from your presence.
So close, I can feel a wind called
Jehovah wrapped around me.
I remove my sandals on this
earthly ground.
Knowing I am standing in your presence,
the true essence of Holy Ground.
I have seen and witnessed your
Majestic Power, Love, and Salvation.
This poem is featured at Sword n Light with music and art feel free to visit.
http://www.swordnlight.com/sandals.html
You can pick and choose your friends,
who is true who is pretend
Who needs you then they leave you
If it suits them
then refuse them
Are they there
do they care
do they have nerve
do they dare
is it all one way and nothing back
Are they owed a favour broken track
Looping around and using you
never occurring they should too
It’s not time that makes them close
It’s what they do when you lose hope
Do they celebrate your victories
And sit with you through your miseries
When you use up your energy
If they don’t they’re an enemy
Are they quick to point out what they’re owed
they want it paid back what they’ve showed
Think they’re smarter than you are
Push their luck and go too far
Friends aren’t always what they seem
they’re not always what you need
Sometimes you should up and leave
Even if they feel aggrieved
Their probably a victim
If so they are restricting
Time on them but if removed
Time on you sees you improved
removed for revision. 2016 election diamante, last view 758
There I am, laid bare on a slab of steel
undone by my Achilles' heel,
A Mayan priest's obsidian blade,
or a sultry siren's silent serenade
There I am, placenta draped and screaming
Awoken from my embryonic dreaming
Beckoned forth to join the woeful parade
And make a cameo for a few accolades
There I am, full of zeal and glee
Despite all my idiosyncrasies
Overly amorous and under prepared
But going ahead unimpaired
There I am, washed of my daily grime
resetting all the usual paradigms
Readying myself for the Sisyphean chore
of another day I can not ignore
This large dark creature fluffs its wings at me,
causing fear and shame.
However, I have done nothing wrong to it.
Yet, it snares at me in pain. I am afraid, but I call to it
and it comes close, but not near for fear. Why is this creature afraid,
or is it just the Human trade.
I call, it comes, I show by my outstretched hands, then gently
touches my hands and pecks. Then, flies away a greeting we
have made known, no more to be afraid.
The Raven twice removed to come back another day.
This poem has been removed.
When stillness lies unbroken
my heart dreams of timeless peace.
My poems do not reckon
or discern that peace may cease.
With a heavy hand moonlight draws
for me pictures of placid accord.
New days will dawn and bring heartbreak;
a poet's heart is tied to time's cord.
I'll watch the summer sky explode without
concern for what the near future holds,
no awareness of ulterior schemes.
I've not been told of moral blindfolds.
Poised recklessly, each frame of
my dream world these next few weeks
is about to be revealed
as truth speaks of rogue techniques.
February 5, 2020
Sponsor Kai Michael Neumann
Contest Name The Poet's Hands Are Tied
Deadline: Friday, July 2, 2021
Edward Ibeh: Pick A Title, Vol 13 - Lyric - Poetry
3. Down the Primrose Path
Now Playing.
Playing inside my ears.
Solos that give me chills.
Vocals that cry out to me.
Now paused and silent.
Library.
A library browsed daily.
The songs that let me breathe.
My ultimate source of
adrenaline.
My lungs and heart are empty.
Rip.
Songs ripped from many discs.
Stolen from various sites.
Files converted and
transported.
Torn away from my nightly
routine.
Burn.
Burning its battery all night.
Through sun and through
storm.
My company through sweat
and tears.
Scorched by the fire of
separation.
Sync.
Music synchronized with blood.
Perfectly tuned to my life.
Songs forming into brain cells.
Synchronization fails tonight.
Stealing ideas from media
programs.
Missing sleep due to anxiety.
Unable to function properly.
Suffering from withdrawals.
All these feelings.
All of this stress.
Due to one mp3 player.
A Device Removed Improperly.
From my life.
For one night.
URBAN REMOVED
i m not one of those poets
one of those alpha-posing, super-imposing
inner-urban closing poets
who prattle to infinity
in unscripted and useless rhymes
clean air in no time
leaving none repast
i m not one of those poets
one of those pitter-popping, heart-stopping
street corner mentor poets
who improvise sound
like kicking garbage cans
texting with both hands
leaving out vowels
i m not one of those soap-box poets
one of those orator, prognosticator
digitally refined and retouched poets
who preach the strident life
and fear the ultimate end
apocalyptic cleanse
leaving none behind
i may be the last of the nomad poets
quiet death for the Penan, up and beyond
one Joffa shake away~poet
who waits for the stones to sing
with a leaky log-cabin roof
i leak the truth
leaving spirit whole
Nine Lives Removed From Royal Dig Nitty ©?ß
(alternately titled: lion eyes hide sharp claws)
Aye attest tubby reincarnated
from one male Russian Blue
species Felis silvestris catus
named Morris if that gives a clue,
and during my fuzzy past
hence, asthma “Cats Cradle”
segued into kitten hood
fur hum lee established
type cats as (tin pan) alley cat,
a rather litter boxed gritty debut
t'wood become (later in life) tabby
quick as greased lightening
snatching in the air,
when tender vittles flew,
technically got fired (acquiring
appropriate nick names)
as fame (like a bushy cat tail) grew
viz perfect back up crooner
for “Cat Stevens”,
or lead singer for
the "Stray Cats" oddly
coupled, featured, and
incorporated with the guru
Horton Hears A Hoo,
yes him Elephant resembling
a humungous mandrake
from the, "Animals"
whose body heat could
easily melt an igloo,
whereby Eskimos accepted charity from
Korean philanthropists named Joo
(founders of Palaces for Pachyderms)
these lumbering creatures possessed
an exemplary photographic memory
(rivaling that of the amazing
deceased idiot savant
Kim Peek) knew
practically every detail
incorporating trunk their lines
(and could track missing link,
when felines shared common ancestor
but,...such petty files would most likely boar
and go way off course, and hence
will shy away being extempore
favoring a deliberate fore
ray padding around basically ignore
ring any rhyme or reason
suddenly ending this persiflage,
and thence to thee bon jour.