Best Reviewing Poems
~ My Primary Emotion~
Three days ago I decided to become heartless by
eliminating my Spirit and Soul I could not take
the agony anymore.
I urged my lawyer to come, he looked at me and
asked, what is wrong? Gazing at him said,
I don't regret committing that felony against them
I need to be punished lets go to court.
Having no reaction, looking disoriented he
opened the door walked me to his car & drove
to court.
Standing opposite the judge I stared at
him bluntly, he was reviewing my report
looked at me ushered to sit in the box
to be persecuted.
The defense lawyer aware of my crimes
seemed intrigued and asked, madam
what caused you to retaliate against your
Spirit & Soul?.
I needed to disrupt their thoughts which
turned against me, the chaos in my brain
became unbearable, exhausted by their
discussions aggravated my strength
weakened me, my whole body was
antagonizing, intentionally forcing my
thoughts to become heartless, merciless
when I attacked them.
Both profited from my kindness my
patience, my healing was not responding,
needing some peace to pray for a miracle
as my young brother today is near death,
cancer of the lungs, he`s getting colder by
the minute, not eating, not socializing, alone,
my tears were overflowing beyond control,
when I heard a friendly whisper coming from
my Heart crying, enough is enough your thoughts
need to stop to allow yourself recognize wrath is
unbearable, your sorrow is taking you nowhere,
wait for the diagnosis.
Out of compassion the judge set me free
my kindness befriended my Spirit & Soul
together we went back home. Waiting.
I was surrounded by them knowing
ahead of me will be the longest night
I will ever experience in years, because
I was determined to stay awake
for that call.
The echo of the ringer came louder than usual
we heard this message!
Minutes ago he was wide awake
Minutes ago his heart tore him away
minutes ago his casket was carried astray
minutes ago underground he will lay.
Minutes ago I wished him an endless
goodbye with a sigh.
My friends held me step by step walked
me to bed covered me up stayed until I had
no more tears to shed.
Those were my emotions for today. Grieving
over the loss of my young brother. Sadness.
Therese Bacha
2/4/2013
Contest of Dan Williams. Primary Emotion Today..
Oft' I wonder what my cat Simba thinks behind that baleful stare.
Is he planning roguery or just building castles in the air?
Perhaps he's reviewing strategies for catching a bird to devour.
Here's what I sense goes on behind his condescending glower!
I 'puuur'ceive he's thinking, "Hey, remove yourself from my chair!
Who said you could sit there - that's my favorite lair!
Will you at least make room on your very ample lap,
So I can curl up and take my usual afternoon nap?"
Many times he glares at me and emits a plaintive 'meow'.
I'm sure he's thinking, "Hey, pal, ain't it time for chow?"
He stalks about the house as if it was his sole domain,
Thinking, "I guess I'll benevolently allow you to remain!"
With soulful eyes he invites me to scratch behind his ears.
If I try to comb his coat, "Oh no you don't!" and he disappears!
Sprawling upon the window sill he gazes across the street,
Eyeing the Persian cat, thinking, "Meeee-Wow! Her I'd like to meet!"
When he begins to purr and 'puuur'sistently rubs against my feet,
He's probably thinking, "Hey, old buddy, how about a treat?"
My cat thinks, "He's not a bad sort, him I can tolerate.
He provides my grub - furthermore, with him I can communicate!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Francine Roberts' "Pick A Pet" Contest - July 2011
The Middle Time is now upon me,
The tune to which I dance grows somewhat thin;
A ghost remembrance of that cacophonous din
To which my steps were measured in my youth.
I know there lies now less before
Than all those days that lay within
The sepulcher of careless memory passed,
I apprehend the sometime bitter truth
That evil days approach my door
When much of what I've come to love will bid its leave
As I be forced to gaze aghast
At sights my eyes would fain not see,
When I to faithful hope must cleave.
Yet, what better time than this, the high point of the feast?
That Jester, Youth, has left the table
Leaving us the better able
To speak of things which more befit the greyed brow,
Matters weighty and sublime
Which better suit our natures now, though perhaps in tone more sable
Than such issues as delight the Fool,
Content the simpleminded sow -
Let us worthily pass the time
To Banquet's End, in company merry and refined,
Reviewing all we gained in Life's long school -
Establish what we value most and least,
Then say we fed our souls while yet we dined.
O grieve not that thy step be not so quick nor light
As t'was it's wont to be in bygone days,
Nor pine for carefree, childish ways -
They had their time, and sweet they were,
But now thou hast a surer, measured step
Nobler thoughts - the ones which stay,
Youth for all its joyful folly
Is not a state forever to prefer
To mind and manner better kept
From fancies and seductions strange;
Who but a Fool would be forever jolly
To deny his Midlife's further sight,
It's deeper view, it's wider range?
He sits in a wheelchair pushed to the curb. The people around him move aside to assure he is able to see. His shrunken body a shell of what it used to be. His breathing labored, aided by the tube that extends from the oxygen tank attached to his chair. On his head, he sports a blue campaign cap with VFW stitched in gold. He is one of America's finest, come to pay his respects.
Behind him stands a younger woman who has guided him there. A daughter perhaps, fussing over him, adjusting the robe in his lap, assuring his comfort. He shows no resistance to the attention, but simply sits and waits.
In the distance drums are heard, soon to be joined by the sound of horns. A stirring march riffles over the crowd, and an electricity grips their senses. Soon the call of cadence is heard. The measured tramp of boots, perfectly in time with the music. It grows louder until at last, a military formation looms into view. Uniformed soldiers, marching in perfect rows, perfect columns, gleaming boots, ribboned chests, weapons at rest on their shoulders. The crowd stirs. Small flags are waved. Cheers erupt. Pride hangs thick in the air.
The color guard approaches. Banners held high, snapping in the breeze. Some spectators remove their caps while others cover their hearts. Children, hoisted to their fathers shoulders, clap in excitement.
The old man tugs at the woman's sleeve and motions for her to come closer. She leans down and listens as he speaks, then asks "are you sure"?. He nods his head. Walking to the front of the chair, she removes the robe and, grasping his outstretched hands, pulls him slowly to his feet, where he stands with her assistance. Those around him watch as the frail, stooped body, with some difficulty, stands more erect. They see the pain etched on his face, and the tear that escapes his eye as he offers a salute as the flag passes by.
Suddenly, the cadence count stops, and in it's place is heard a command . A command normally reserved for when passing a reviewing stand. "Company, eyes right" the guidon bearer bellows, and with that, he returns the aging veterans salute, a sign of respect for an old soldier. After all, it is his flag. It is his country. He bought them both many years ago.
Bob Quigley
Jan 10, 2012
Have you heard of Bev Smith quite new to the Soup
When reviewing my poetry she's always so cute
Quick with the praise
Sets my heart all ablaze
Dear Bev always makes me as happy as poop!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Another year is drawing to a close.
I sit alone reflecting on the life
I've loved and cherished for these many days
recalling every cause of joy and strife.
I think of all those walks I take near home
and thank God for the strength to walk each mile.
I praise Him for the town in which I live,
where I feel safe and neighbors wave and smile.
My friends and loved ones occupy my mind.
How little time I've spent with them! I vow
in two thousand nineteen, I'll see them more.
If I rely on Him, He'll show me how.
Reviewing conflicts of the waning year,
I think of how I sometimes played a part
in making matters worse. I cannot push
aside those thoughts that plague my troubled heart.
I have to ask forgiveness, for I know
it's my responsibility to be
promoter of good will with everyone.
Beginning now, I’ll strive for harmony.
My reminiscing would be incomplete
if I gave my church family no praise.
Next year, I still will be with them each week.
They are a blessing in so many ways.
To name each blessing of the year, I'd need
a ream of paper and a quart of ink.
I'd need to talk for days on end, but God
knows how I feel and everything I think.
Two thousand eighteen soon will breath its last
as I am thanking God for joy and health,
for all the seasons, and for giving me
more than I need--in my opinion, wealth.
Date: December 20, 2018
Contest Title: Soon It Will Be 2019
Sponsor: Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
"Just Breathe"
Life is hard, life is tough, life is full of other stuff. It throws you curve balls
and never a straight strike. You just know things aren't going to turn out right.
Just close your eyes, inhale, and just breathe. No it is not a wise tale, it will
never fail. This is just another way we exhale.
The day you see that one that takes your breath away. The one you know you
can't live without, the one you have no doubt. Without a second glance its true
romance. Just breathe and know they are the one for me. The one you want to
join your family tree.
That beautiful day the one that will make a mark in your life and you will ask her
to be your wife. As you are on that one knee hoping she will agree. Looking her
straight into her baby blues, she agrees to marry you.
It's judgment day, the day you have waited for in every way. As you wait your
turn to enter, you are reviewing the things you have not done for the better. A
hand rest on your shoulder. In a deep voice he leans over and whispers in your
ear. For I am the lord you don't have to fear for you will live here with me,
so Just breathe!!!
By
Rowdy
Yates
A friend said you saw me and asked for my number.
Does that mean I’m in your head while you slumber?
She said by night you’re a drummer, an IT Tech by day
and that you are quite eager for our date to go your way.
You must realize, I am not who your perceptions show.
You can’t think just seeing me makes me someone you know.
CHORUS
Don’t know if I wanna go where I’m not sure I’m going.
Don’t know if the unknown is something I should be knowing.
Don’t know what I’m looking for when I answer my own door.
Just know I’m jaded from all love faded with each encore.
I often wish I didn’t mind the sound of being alone
or let solitude lay me depressed and fantasy prone.
Right now, you are an image I try to focus in my head,
while I keep reviewing all the phone things we’ve said.
It seems, I can’t help but wondering where I’m being led,
is this romantic lightness or something I should dread?
CHORUS
Romance has tossed and turned my heart into many bland knots.
The moment I was born, is when Cupid began his love plots.
Long ago, my head and heart concluded it takes three years
to really know someone and how they might shift all your gears.
Slow will surely become my operative word and stance
should our first date reveal shared desires to pursue romance.
CHORUS
It all lies before us now, we share a clean slate of time.
There are no injuries, no scars, no hurts of yours or mine.
What about this heart of mine, should I put it on trial?
Should I let pain in so I might embrace a lover’s smile?
I guess places I have been and where I have yet to go
will somehow trip land within all true love feelings I don’t know …
CHORUS
{{Dear Poetess CAREN KRUTSINGER at first I’m sorry, because I do not know anything about you. But I wish you the BELOW my little effort. }}
dear poetess you are-
C-rown of depth expression
A-bsolute power of word
R-isen shining sun in thought
E-very inch of wisdom
N-oble hearted in reviewing
for your poem and poetic style
love you
since my understanding spirit of it
you are spirited being still at this age
but not in loneliness
poems are your bosom friends
paths of ink make a long way
you are walking there
on the great wings of wisdom
poetess
here I'm elated
I'm living in your blessings words
dreaming a life in long lively stream
on this bank of life and on that bank
as the birds, as the leaves of grass,
as the music of Beethoven,
as the palette of Vinci,
as the art of Disney
your matured hand,
natural insight,
materialistic pen,
wise pavement of poetic reign
persuade me lively
let me be one of them in yours poetic motion
let me swim in your delighted poetic ocean
-January 24, 2019 Chattogram
the human entity that feels
employs body as a springboard
in bondage to gender and tendencies
looking outwards then reviewing inwards
the pulse of duality from fulcrum of oneness
celebrating even delusion made possible by form
thus both captive and free
03-December-2022
Back in 2013 the President 'resetting,' drew a line in the sand
Syria sprinted across it; faced no response from our end
So, Bashir Assad killed his own countrymen with chemical gas
hundreds upon thousands fled Syria, Europe's problem, alas*
Then near the end of his term, ignoring his every general's advice
DJT threatened to pull the plug on Afghanistan one night
--thought a quick exit for his 'resume' would be nice
And now JB's gone and done it, what a horrific choice we face
To recognize the Taliban, an admission of disgrace
A low blow to all our brave troops who died in that place
Yet if we cut off the Taliban; if we can't bite out lips
ISIS stands ready to blow Afghanistan to bits
Now I'm not just complaining; I've a simple solution at hand
No more Presidents play-acting Commander-in-Chief
-- without military service beforehand
Let's have a former soldier who honors and respects his command
who can discern perils in jungles, deserts and mountain badlands
If this means a separate office for Commander-in-Chief
I'm all for it: Enough of my countrymen's (and the free world's) disbelief
And if you feel I'm all wet, think 2029... Try to envision
AOC** reviewing troops, making life-and-death decisions
_______________________________________________________
*Even today, as I write this, Syrians homeless since 2013 are being
used as political pawns by Russia and Belarus, who have flown them
in (!) to crowd the border of Poland, where they 'live' in unsanitary,
makeshift 'cities' -- all as part of Russian blackmail to force Poland
and its European backers' hands. (Source: Wall-Street Journal,
November 13, 2021, page 1 report).
**Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez... a popular 30 year-old member of the
House of Representatives, an avowed Democrat-Socialist, who's
backed open borders, defunding the police, and many other such
'progressive policies.'
good morning all
here is another entry to express I hope everyone is safe
at the present time I still remain from reviewing to which I am sorry
I'm certain I am missing wonderful work
I have just read an entry by Anil Deo and this is my response below
to Anil and to everyone
may we all endure and have rested wings
thank you
peace and safety to all
"rested wings"
as each butterfly lives and breathes
roaming life with all she sees
the strongest among them must pause
they endure with rested wings
for a bird who flies far and wide
gliding along skies high above seas
knows his strength to gracefully sail
must remain sound with rested wings
for our souls and for our hearts
living under darkness or stress
the mightiest within us can fall
with rested wings we stand tall
SkyWatcher
04-24-20
At least the canoers are gone
And the old couple of duck feeders
The geese are reviewing the V formation
Young’uns still practicing take offs and landings
Swans are still strutting about the pond
The coyotes are calling audibles at dusk
Turtles quietly sequestering themselves
Dusk is quieter now
The hum of insect wings silenced
No bullfrog echoes ripple the pond
The sting of November lurks in the woods
An old Muskrat sighs
~Authors And Writers~
( The Bell)
Authors
Love to write
Writers authors work hard
Glad when finish great book
Both just love to write
They work lots of hours
Final product is their most joyful
Reward
Writers
Work so hard
Go through strenuous process
Books can take long time
Lots of hours editing reviewing
Many changes are often made
Authors writers editors are a great
Team
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2016
March.04.2019
'Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.'
- Mark Twain-
~Author's Notes:
The "Bell" is a poetry style created by Dorian
Petersen Potter, aka ladydp2000, on September,18,2010.
Sometimes studying the mirror I'm overcome with chagrin
Feeling disappointed by this shell I'm dwelling in.
With my slightly too thick midriff there above my underwear,
I'm more the rotund apple than alluring luscious pear,
Making ludicrous comparisons to girls with waspy waists,
And my nose, Lord, Pinocchio's, upon my pleasant face
With its odd small accompanying hump placed what!...To accentuate?
Later, however, on better days, my focus redirects
To reviewing my favorite qualities, and what I see reflects
A somewhat shapely figure; Legs lean, well-formed and strong;
Lovely eyes, lips and breasts, and lashes that are long.
So I'm obliged to acknowledge with accepting certainty
My temple, though flawed, was gifted by God
(And there's always rhinoplasty)!
For the "I Am" Poetry Contest of Frank H.