Best Riposte Poems
When fleeting storm said goodbye
The darkened sky detected a lie
Besting clouds her thoughts host
Drenching doubts that block riposte.
As the cobalt sky and ocean meet
On the sapphire arc revelers greet
The changing season's vibrant theme
In golden attire of autumn's dream.
The sound of wind whirls in trees
Musical tones of rustling leaves
And the falling foliage flies with ease
Orange hues in autumn's breeze.
As the sepia tones enchant her eye
The gilded leaves of autumn sigh
On buoyant horizon drifting high
Where crimson vistas touch the sky.
Vivid vibes spell a brand new start
As blazing colors awaken her heart
And amber passions begin to reveal
Tinges of magenta in love's appeal.
September 2, 2018
Placed first in One in five (II) poetry contest by Joseph May
Placed first in contest #560 by Brian Strand
Categories:
riposte, autumn, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
In midst of evading sounds and shadows
Lurks the soulless in search of reasoning
Whilst in the fullness, a youth bud still grows
Yet heard less, seen less, and not be wanting.
Death be heard, death be seen, what does it mean
The dearly departed, was it so dear
Having lived those years till age of nineteen
And suicide caused the family smear.
A precious life gone, was it worth the price
For whilst that soul lived and was being ignored
Gladly chooses a way, self-sacrifice
A soul leaves behind a life as pictured.
In midst of evading sounds and shadows
Lurks the soulless in search of reasoning.
Date: 06/24/2019
***NOTE: I extend my appreciation to all soupers for choosing 'SUICIDE RIPOSTE' as your 2nd most FAVE poem, My Heartfelt Aloha, indeed!
Categories:
riposte, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Sonnet
Your style is unique
Each word very sleek
The poems never meek
Yet no bad critique
Humorous mystique
You never misspeak
Such lovely technique
All your rhyme so chic
Always tongue in cheek
Poetic batik
You kid me not Jan Allison You are a poetess of sublime rhyme. And are the smile and mirth of PS. Bless you.
A riposte to Jan's poem "I HUMOUR ICON - ICON YOU THAT I'M A POET"
~Written 15/04/2015~
Shane
Categories:
riposte, friend,
Form:
Monorhyme
There is a hostile villain that lurks deep inside,
turning the human body into a battleground.
With disdain, it causes pain one cannot abide,
but the fight goes on until a cure can be found.
It strangles hope like an noxious climbing vine,
One that I wish overwatering would simply rot.
It stains a body with a toxic mark. I recall the line
as Lady Macbeth cries, "Out, out damned spot!"
It arrives unannounced, without an invitation.
attacking vital organs of an unsuspecting host
In self defense, the body fires back with radiation,
but the enemy has a cavalry to parry a riposte.
It lies in wait, stealing courage, and moral spirit,
burying itself deeply inside trenches of skin.
It's proven to be a killer; no wonder we fear it!
And yet, we ask, "How in the hell did it get in?"
The battle rages on, leaving the inflicted weak,
and it becomes a struggle to continue the fight.
Faith to conquer the adversary becomes bleak,
but don't surrender by waving the flag of white.
The battle can be won. Cancer can be treated.
A positive attitude helped many who have healed.
Speak with a survivor who was not defeated.
Attack that enemy who lurks within; concealed.
June 10, 2021
Cancer Ivy Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Categories:
riposte, cancer,
Form:
Rhyme
To Heal A Soul Waning In Want
A collaboration with Robert Lindley
12th April 2019
Man thus beseeches
Angry midnight moon spat at earth far below
twinkling stars applauded then went dark
time paused, its powers but a laughing blink
as with eyes full of bitter ashes
this soul woke to weep at this world's hate
Fragments of hope flittering about in a ravenous brain,
can life ever give more than this human waste.
Then cold, silent house spoke with deafening moans
as cool breeze entered through a lustful window
I was stirred by this welcomed new gift,
but a brief moment and it vanished like a shy ghost.
Why, why does night send its invading powers
into a dream now broken apart,
can not dawn hurry its renewing rays,
its long overdue relief,
that warmth flowing through the air,
into an earthen realm desperate for a sweeter touch,
with its magnificent light to heal a soul waning in want?
What pray tell, does an angry moon want
a bow to its shine,
or an angry curse at its own basking vanities?
The Angry Moons Riposte
What is it that you seek, vain mortal ?
shall I absolve you of guilt,
or worse yet forgive your innocence ?
It is not the scorching sun that you ask,
for its radiance may reveal your pitiful failure.
It is not earth or wind or water that you ask,
for their power is greater than you know.
But it is at my hand that you seek what you seek,
so seek and speak plainly.
In the night when all is quiet
and you believe my eye to be dim as the hour,
seek and speak plainly.
If it is absolution that you seek, or forgiveness,
these I cannot give,
yet I would not even if I could.
If it is understanding that you seek,
I shall answer, and you shall forget,
or remember weakly or less.
Now hear this, vain mortal:
Your path is ruined at your own hand,
you are afflicted, for it is what you are worth.
Categories:
riposte, allegory,
Form:
Free verse
Twas the night before my cousin's
wedding
He reluctantly gave in to the
bachelor party vetting
A burlesque, tawdry strip club was
the setting
Unbeknownst to him, the bridesmaid
was his appetite whetting
With gratuitous lap dance, began
the ribald feting
In drunken stupor, the enamored
groom his fealty forgetting
Released his inhibitions all of his
clingy garments shedding
Strode platform, in sync with
bridesmaids erotic moves duetting
In tantric rhapsody, she released
pheromones his testosterone
subletting
Enraptured with his riposte jaunts,
her matrimonial bond shredding
The enamored bridesmaid with lust
his bare essentials began petting
His betrothed parts to her
dominatrix will indebting
As the groom climaxed, his phallus
got entangled in her fish netting
Two truant souls now writhing;
spent body parts bloodletting
Dislodging their carnal chains, into
frothy night jetting
To hotel that lodged devoted bride;
their remaining passions bedding
Lurid, tawdry tryst not regretting;
but o'er bawdy exhibition sweating
Wedding contest
September 14, 2012
Categories:
riposte, funnynight, night,
Form:
Rhyme
I fell in battle, sword in hand,
Invading someone else’s land.
Then I saw her, and she reached down,
To escort me from the battleground.
I’d let her take me anywhere,
With her winged helmet and braided hair.
She had me stand ‘neath Odin’s throne,
Where each warrior must stand alone.
One-eyed Odin judged me to be
Worthy to serve in his last army….
Daily killed and resurrected--
(Not quite the afterlife expected!)
Samurais taught me to sword-fight.
I learned spear and shield from a Hoplite.
Vikings taught me the battle axe,
And the Persians taught me sneak attacks.
We die each day and then come back,
Always practicing for Ragnorak.
She brings me mead, my Valkyrie,
And sometimes at night she favors me.
Since she’s nearby, it’s just as well--
This isn’t Heaven, but not quite Hell.
We’ll fight and sing to the war drums,
Waiting the day that Ragnorak comes.
(Chorus)
Our days are spent in miseries,
But at night we have the Valkyries.
Riposte and lunge, thrust and parry;
That’s all we do in Odin’s army.
Categories:
riposte, death, muse, mythology, song,
Form:
Lyric
The Love Rose
Love like a red rose bloomed in our hearts
It grew in time but was disguised
Hidden thorns prick and stings in our souls
Until there is no more to unfold
It’s season’s change and love now grows cold
Our lives circled out of control
Sweet smelling scent of love has vanished
Broken hearts with gloom are banished
Nectar of love vapor
Crimson petals fall in the glistening rain
Lapse of time between us has refrain
Thinking our destiny was love bound
Captivating passions spellbound
The wilting desert rose cannot survive
If not rekindled with the sky’s
Raining tears of restoration
Memories in admiration
Can we again fall in love?
Love like petals falling to the ground
Parting wasn’t in the foreground
Essence of love renews our romance
Alive our hearts still dance
Your ear to my breast hear it bellow
My words in my being echo
Waiting for your riposte
My beating remains innermost
I’m still in love with you
For our love never really grows cold
Unless you want to let it go
So like the rose lets try a new bloom
Take in all joys and refresh anew
Love like a red rose blooms in our hearts
Its thorns now guards and not disguised
Our souls were never disconnected
We are bound forevermore
I’m still in love with you
As we walk among our flowers
We feel the scent of love again!
Margaret Franceschini September 26, 2014
Categories:
riposte, love, passion, romance,
Form:
Verse
Therewithal, profluent life ettles it's while.
Thitherward, from Death's bleak campanile
Grim antiphonals serenade.
A capriccio, the slashing swipe of the reaper's scythe
will serenade.
Stringent Death forthwith anoints the mithridate to
Life's cantankerous and rankling ado
Hither now come, anon recondite Azrael, neither protend
nor annex this throttled contretemps.
The antiphonal of the reaper's cavalier scythe
Shall now serenade.
Awhirl, like kerfs demarcated
Years, bollixed, muzzy and brattled
shall holus-bolus expire.
No retaliation to death's gloomy surcease
No ingenious riposte to the reaper's final cleave.
Bootless now to don the amulets,
squeeze the jujus,
Kiss the talismans,
clutch the periapts or
Attire in steely cataphract.
The serenading of the reaper's scythe,
it's efficacy shall blithely cleave.
Bedim mine eyes from life's assailing
Bedim mine eyes from life's poltroonery
Vocabulary: barghest-a goblin fabled to portend misfortune; monody-funeral song;
antiphonal-chant; protend-to protract in time/lengthen; riposte-n. in fencing, a quick
return/thrust; brattle-v.-to make rattling or clattering noises;
cavalier-supercillious/disdainful/haughty; muzzy-hazy; attaint-v. to condemn; rankle-to
give pain/nettle/gnaw; contretemps-untoward accident/hitch; throttle-v.to
choke/suffocate/strangle/stiffle; bollix-v.-to bungle or botch; holus-bolus-adv.-all at
once/altoghter; mithridate-antidote against poison; cataphract-suit of armor for the
whole body; poltroonery-n. cowardice; a capriccio-musical piece characterized by
improvisation; ettle-to intend/to prepare; campanile-free standing bell tower; kerf-a
groove or notch
Azrael-the angel that helps souls from living to enter the afterlife; recondite-not
easily understood/abstruce;
periapt-a charm worn to ward of evil; juju-object believed to contain magical powers;
contretemps-disruptive unforeseen event; protend-to hold out or stretch forth
Categories:
riposte, death, life,
Form:
Ballad
With love banter she did persist
But my riposte barbs did resist
Few frothy gestures; emotions to grist
But my playful hands pounded with fist
On a lite, free-flowing parley did insist;
For my crude vocabulary did not desist
Added some colloquial idioms for zest,
But my trite sayings quickly put to rest
Fearing that I did with hollow words jest;
Solemnly cupped hands on tenured breast
Uttered romantic soliloquy my desire to test,
Then rolled her eyes as my prone quill did crest
A few lines from tender ballad did invest,
But my swaggering tune could not digest
A couple of amorous riddles pressed,
But chafed at each, laborious guess
Categories:
riposte, love
Form:
Couplet
To arms to arms, she cries this soul carefree
as she advances the words fly from her quill,
with her wit she poses a counter-riposte
lancing ripening spoils so they can spill.
All rancor fell before her bold advance
her laughter lightens his sour temperament.
Ma oui, the Mistress invited him to dance,
"engarde," she winks, then lunges with consent.
Ungloved, they dance across the pearl white page,
each double entendre brings a dampening blow
not circumspect, but with aplomb she stages
a mutual downfall while they were all aglow.
The finer points of nibs and quill, be damned
what matters most was the Mistress got her man.
Inspired By Giorgio Veneto's Riposte
Categories:
riposte, humor, words,
Form:
Sonnet
The nation is very rich indeed
But,
Wounded out of loss direction;
Wounded out of lack of ambition,
Weeping out of lack of impulse;
Wounded out of lack of imagination,
Ingeniously exhumed out of the citadel of corruption;
While the funereal ultimately boils down to collateral.
In the funky train,
All the hoo-ha-noisy end in fisticuff;
And the crumpled greenback hand-out cough,
The law has nothing to handcuff,
Kindred turned puppets loss of self-worth in defacto state
of war,
Faced with hemorrhaging despondency;
And splitting migraine disillusionment,
Miseenscene always greeted with fire and blood,
With fight and struggle half dead;
To trip in goats, straw and timber carrier,
Inevitable suicide spoof of teeming commuters,
And a caterwauling exodus end in thousands of legs under
the sea,
Carnival of Sharks tongue-smacked and praise-devour the
abundant feast;
While the aura of authority has little or nothing fish,
Often, sudden delight death cry of assailed victims,
Owa! Owa! Owa! {Alight}
A cry for shanty shambles bus stop,
As if deaf, the tyrant conductor
Lashes out in blinding curse and abuse;
Pressing and shoving for umpteenth fares,
Owa! Owa! Owa!
A plead for just a measure of tonic air,
Hard kerchief to wipe off addicted
Face of invincible gossamer,
Diabolical gene galloping in strides;
As compassion flees from rigours of heart of stone,
If swearing non-syllabic stunned altercating joust;
Could result in re-ordering of the lost world,
Plotless plastic lives of mean children of absentee Mamas
and Papas,
Would gauche braggadocio even king to brutal submission;
O! wretched loud louts touts,
Very loud louts touts foaming with tactless forming;
A riposte, may your road be rough,
A stamp on every man destiny.
Categories:
riposte, urbanloss, cry, loss,
Form:
Free verse
Meeting a Friend
I met my old friend Joao at the pharmacist today
a place we old ones go to buy medicine and to
meet friends still alive, it occurred to me the pharmacy
and the cemetery is only five minutes, walk away
from each other. Joao had gone thin he used to be
a house builder with a big muscular frame and now
before me an old man who had lost his ready smile
and a funny riposte to any argument.
But I saw something else in his eyes, a dread, it was
as he realised the finality of his life, a pleading to
to nature that he was the one who escaped to
the paradise island where the word death does not
exist in the local language of the tribe who live there,
but there was no succour; he had lost the battle.
Categories:
riposte, age, allusion, city, class,
Form:
Sonnet
I chose passion over consequence
it seems that shook your confidence.
So close your eyes now and don’t fall to pieces
hide in fear of what the heart teaches.
The consequences were too heavy for you
lost all in that dull shade and hue
of the early morning, you wait for sunrise.
Tell yourself slowly count back from five.
So is this what my heart asks for falling,
inside my wrist the reminder is carving
the name of the one that I love tonight.
You fled from me in your fright.
For this question have you any sort of riposte,
answer me, what’s it feel like to be a ghost?
Categories:
riposte, sadheart, heart,
Form:
Couplet
for Jean Franco ?(March 15, 1907- April 15, 1992)
I
They opened his abdomen
found what they were not looking for though half-expected to see ?polyps enormous cancerous mush in lieu of and the rest that had given out on him
They said: if we had known we wouldn't have torn into his tripes?to see even the sample test told us as much but we did it for him he so wanted it done now we merely have to wait and see just how long it would take him to conk out without solid food to pass from his newly-grafted conduit
He was completely in their hands and hung on to their lips their every nod their plans for him and the use he had for their apprentis chirugiens sorciers
He kept his anger for his friends family telephone operators the aide-soignantes those he could intimidate with his age for he didn't know what they knew they wouldn't feel the hurt the slight for long the rankling umbrage sans riposte
He didn't mind all the inconvenience the constant waking to pass water the secluded room without tv without his wife to take it out on without the means to exude his usual referee's contempt of rules
In their hands he was the meek inept thing pleading with his eyes his entire body bent to their gaze of wonder of why he would so question going now then or even a little later
(Continued in Part Two)
Categories:
riposte, funeral, for him, for
Form:
Free verse