Best Risers Poems
Aloha Spirit
Sol, with his golden crown, greets me each morning
within divine rays extending out over emerald hills
and valleys that absorb his warmth of abiding light.
View misty alabaster clouds turn from twilight's purple
into softest rose just before golden regal rays emerge
calling forth fowl to take flight into spacious azure skies
winging their way from tree to pole to wherever their
heart’s desire on their quest for food for fledglings with
hungry mouths agape, loudly peeping in their nests.
The sea coruscates in shades of jade illuminations
luring early risers with surfboards to ride the surf.
Share the scents of floral fair that lingers in the tropic air
carried by the trade winds whimsy, enthralling all.
Not a poem to 86 but one of lucky number 7 doubled 77!
Kahunas sing sacred chants with drums that echo still.
6/20/20
Poem name: Island Spirit
Views: 8677
Poetry form: Rhyme
Date of Publication: 01/17/2015
Views For Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Funom Makama
*Kahuna (c. 1890) Kahuna is a Hawaiian word, defined as a respected person who has moral authority in society; a "priest, healer, sorcerer, magician, wizard, minister, expert in any profession (whether male or female) Shaman.
*86: We’ve all heard someone used the term 86 in reference to doing away with something. There are a few schools of thought behind where the saying came from. Some have more legs than others—such as those of the restaurant industry—but to this day, there is still no official etymology.
*The number 7: Throughout the ages the number 7 has defied the law of averages and confounded mathematicians. For many of the powerful and wealthy, the number 7 is a symbol of luck and good fortune. Carry the Lucky 7 with you and experience: A dramatic turnaround of events in your favor. Increased Lucky Streaks.
My thanks to the following links for these pictures:
https://www.journeyera.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/featuredpost-08183-1005x635.jpg
http://imagesofoldhawaii.com/wp-content/uploads/Kahuna-Physician-HerbKane-400.jpg
Categories:
risers, bird, nature, sea, sky,
Form:
Free verse
Come, walk with me in this early dawn
while the darkness fades in solitude
As first light appears, and moon drifts on
we will drink in the quiet interlude
Wet blankets of fog will lift away
wearing soft slippers of slow retreat
We'll greet early risers starting the day
drink fresh brewed coffee, and stroll the streets
The beat, the strand of sidewalk noise
Gains timbre as the traffic mocks
Once more the world regards it's toys
Of cars, and horns, and ticking clocks
Before the bustling city quakes
Let's stroll before the monster wakes
--------------------------------------------------------------
6/18/16
For Contest: Sounds of the Day
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Categories:
risers, city, life, society,
Form:
Sonnet
Waters rise, engulf the land and other ruses
we devise to block their flow, to stem the tides.
Anxious, we are left to ride the waves
on fragile barques bereft of sails.
Such flimsy arks (mere barrel staves
and baling wire) float up the sides
of great sea-risers like defiant snails
awash in slime. In time, seabrine looses
collective holds on congealed excuses
and in salt solution we dissolve.
To silver fishes we soon devolve
while worlds and stars, giants and dwarfs,
fade from mind like boats from wharfs.
And when to darker depths we dive,
will fishes miss us? Shall we survive
apart from sky, from air, from dry?
If at last we gasp and die
will crabs cavort? Can fishes cry?
Categories:
risers, allegory, angst, death, depression,
Form:
Rhyme
They said my life is worthless, but my net worth is priceless.
I'm one of the nicest. I've been bless to express my life on this.
I was built for this, so they can miss me with that snuffed up "ish",
No need to curse on this, no disrespect needed, it's time that we be kind and courteous.
What occurs to us could be a curse for us; but what occurred is a must and in god we should trust.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, consider yourself dead if we continue to live unjust.
Cause there's no justification for your judgmental infatuation,
In fact your situation is a declaration of your own character in question.
Any questions?
In consideration, I'm trying to make sense of this verbal composition,
But you're always in competition with your mental institution, while you're in a mindless and clueless position.
I'm no illusion. But from all the confusions, I became a realest.
I never said I'm the best, but I'm always at my best to the fullest.
And somehow haters new about this and that's the reason why they started hating on this.
Trying to convince me that I wasn't built for this.
Instead, they became my photosynthesis I became photosensitive to there photo-negative emphasis.
I had no choice but to put an end to this and considered it a life changing experiences.
My fearfulness went into a metamorphosis.
Went from more fear to less, that morphed into too bless to be stressed over some senseless mess.
Therefore I rise. Like high risers in the sky I've arrived.
The sky is the limit and I'm going to live in the sky till the day I die.
Who am I?
It's no question I'm a reflection of the most high; far from perfection,
But His intentions are perfect, perfectly prophesied by my third eye.
Categories:
risers, beauty, character, courage, identity,
Form:
Acrostic
The snow leopard
A snow leopard is walking down snow covered streets.
In these empty streets, she walks alone, a vision to be seen.
With skyscraper buildings on either side,
All the cars are silent,
The apartments only have a few lights on,
As she walks outside in the night-time.
With every stride the snow leopard creeps along,
These empty streets with her eyes fixed upon,
Her destination; the local fountain has become an ice rink.
She needs a place where she can sit and think
And the frozen water is calling.
The scratches on the surface from skaters earlier in the eve,
Are sliced crisscross by fur-covered shoes;
Her claws dig in deep.
With perfect balance she moves along;
Tail flat, she is relaxed, no pressure is on.
No need to flee, no-one to be seen.
The snow leopard lies down to relax; her cub inside is heavy.
Before dawn has arisen, the snow leopard has awoken.
Her ears pointed skyward to listen to distant sirens.
From early risers, phone calls have been made;
The zoo keeper is on his way…
But with a flash of her silhouette, the snow leopard is gone;
She was only seen close up for a second,
Before she disappeared into the thick winter’s fog.
Never to be seen again, but the lights in the skyscrapers remember.
The snow leopard stood here, on this cold night mid-December.
From where she came, nobody ever truly knew;
Some people say she was here simply looking for food.
She had been hiding a long time in a snow cave;
Her footprints were filled by the snow and her tracks began to fade.
She never was found and never again did she return.
The snow leopard was just passing through, her image just a blur.
Like a wind through a narrow street,
A piece of ice falling through a cloud;
A memory of a snowflake that disappears as soon as it is found.
There was no sign that the snow leopard had ever been around
And there was no way to know why,
The snow leopard ever came walking through this town.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Categories:
risers, animal, cat, city, mother,
Form:
CONVERSATION
Good morning, Lord! Thank You for a good night's sleep.
Good morning, My Son! You're quite welcome. Are you refreshed and ready?
Well, Lord, I do feel rather energetic, but ready for what?
I'm glad you feel energetic, because you'll need lots of energy for what I have in store for you today.
Oh! And what might that be, Lord?
You know the widow Jenkins who lives in the rather run down shack on the back forty? Did you notice that her roof needs some repairs, and the front door is sagging on its hinges. The window on the south side has two broken panes and the sash needs fixing.
Lord, that lady is noted for being a little “touched in the head”. Are you sure she won't just send me packin' if I try to help her?
Let me handle her attitude and you do the repairs. By the way, I noticed that the back steps are missing a couple of risers. You need to replace those so she doesn't fall going down them.
Lord, You know lumber and hardware aren't exactly cheap and since I had to spend the 300 dollars on my old truck to keep it runnin', I'm kinda strapped for money right now.
Come, come! Don't you recall that I will supply all your needs? If you are obedient in this matter and trust my promises, you'll not regret it.
Okay, Lord, I'll get it done, but it won't be easy.
Thank You, Lord, for the strength, energy, and stamina to do all that work for the widow Jenkins. She is really a sweet lady – and a great cook! She fixed a lunch for me the likes of which I never had before, And, she seemed right pleased and appreciative of the fact that I would do all that for her.
What's that, Lord? You know I don't play the lottery or mess with publishers clearing house and such – Yes Sir, I could use a new truck, but You know I can't afford it. You what? They what? For real? Why would the preacher and that bunch from the church give me a new truck? Oh! You took care of that. Well, thank You, Lord. I'm kinda tired so I think I'll turn in now. Good night, Lord and thank You for all Your blessings.
Curtis Moorman
17 January 2012
For Frank H. contest: Conversation
Categories:
risers, allegory, me, me, thank
Form:
Narrative
Mostly, she had the heebie jeebies, peaking at early risers
Outside, morning was muted with its first faint flush
Right before bristled being, allure of dawn shook her
Noah's voice and patriarchs of old floated by
Imagine those coils; Delilah had come to nip
Night looked on, swelled with pride remorse would rise
God of heaven and earth knew Minerva could be healed.
Nothing moves miraculously as the Almighty
Once she could hear her own obsequy; such living dead
Out on paths of ruin, Minerva ran and ran
Noon's scorcher, and blizzard, and torrents knew she'd show.
Night was of rain and song; of mind cruise to Caribbean hometown
Ideally, one sky light, alone time, and quietude was craved
God of her mother spoke nothing into something
Head lights once broken, beamed, then glowed
That spring; the new millennium sprung fresh light, water, air, and fire.
*
Categories:
risers, abuse, addiction, blessing, butterfly,
Form:
Acrostic
WE, WE!
Unknown, strange faces;
We are united
in the experiences
of classes to halls,
of tests to exams,
of rainy and sunny days,
of tears and laughter,
of fear and hope,
of friendship and enmity;
but in Love’s loving arms.
In the darkness of ignorance, we began,
In the light of knowledge, we part.
We were early risers,
We were late comers.
Sometimes united,
Sometimes divided
in this intellectual confinement:
We are imprisoned to embrace freedom,
We are nurtured to become the panacea.
We are departing,
Known, familiar faces.
We, We!
(for my graduating class University of Lagos 2013)
©Angel Simon 2013
Categories:
risers, celebration,
Form:
Blank verse
A little pre-dawn shaking was going on around LA.
Early morning risers got a jolt on St. Patrick’s Day.
This quake went the same way so many had gone before.
Today, it measured on the Richter scale at 4.4.
Nobody was hurt, and no damage had been done.
However, experiencing an earthquake is scary and not fun.
Was it the spirit of St. Patrick romping along the heather?
No, it was just two tectonic plates rubbing together.
From a news story found on aol.com
Categories:
risers, earth, science,
Form:
Rhyme
Experienced a third bigger earthquake recently but this poem I wrote for a smaller earthquake years ago)
My first trivial tremor experience had been in Southern Africa
And now this puny earthquake I felt in Tanzania.
I saw every thing waltz to and fro and lightly shake
Bottles turned ballerinas dancing slightly to the quake
I watched glass decors on the walls quiver and jolt
Scaredy me was half asleep, no wonder didn't bolt
I thought I was dreaming or imagining things
My bed and chairs converted into gentle swings.
All vials and vases
jiggled to dance a jig
The lil horrors over
So I cast humor's wig
Ah when began rattling, the knick knacks on my dresser
Was when it dawned upon me in horror
That this was really an early dawn tremor.
I phoned some friends but those early risers
Hadn't even noticed or felt those tremors
I bet they thought I was spreading false rumours
After all poets are stereotyped as fanciful philosophers.
My cell phone keypad became my panic button in a flurry
Of course I wanted all to be alerted, alarmed in worry
Nobody believed me until it was announced in our mosque
And every body was then called by muezzin to pray the signs prayers
Then every body knew the tremor was no hoax
Some patted me for being the first to notice this shaking of earthly layers
Of course I thanked God this was no major earthquake
I've heard in other places how terribly the earth can crack and shake
Who else but God could I owe my heartfelt gratitude
For this being my 2nd low power tremor in magnitude
As it measured low on the Richter scale
based on the seismic waves' amplitude
But the earth was shaken and I too was shaken
No pics of the shivering axis were taken
Todate runs down my spine such a shiver
On recalling how the mother earth did quiver
I have seen videos of earthquakes where the earth juggles things
like a salt shaker
May God protect us from such a waker and breaker
Categories:
risers, environment, fear,
Form:
Rhyme
Crimson leaves, like rubies,
glisten with dew
in morning sunlight
A sea of red, expanding daily,
buffers the steps of early risers…
sneakers quickly wet
from daily daybreak runs
Stretching out the clocks
agendas to meet
no time for fun
A strolling elder couple
enjoying the richness of the scene
realizing quickly that the view
beckons more than lingered pause
and wonders in amazement
how one ignores it
without due cause
Gifted jewels appreciated
by wiser eyes in evenings stage
harvest autumn sights
with seasoned delightful awe…
and like a child,
garnering anew
the glorious wonder of it all
Crimson leaves, like rubies,
last only for a season
quickening joy in later years
©Debra Squyres 2013
Categories:
risers, age, change, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
The internal department of the psychic friends,
Aggravation can find a dollar before it is printed,
Like Christmas tax day comes once a year,
It will take that long to pay one bill,
Ask Santa for it under the tree it will appear,
The parasite, the invalid, it can't help itself ,
It's eating away a the system,
You can't kill it, it's like bad grass,
It just sucks your blood and laughs,
The more you give it the more it wants,
They use your mind, your body, and your soul,
No matter how bad it hurts, it can hurt somemore,
Hand stretched out arms open wide,
It invites everyone to be on it's side,
It runs like water it's hard to hold,
It rund out of your pocket until there is no more,
Like maduca the seven headed moster with a sore,
It won't stop kicking until you are is sore,
Men ain't free it's a IRS guarantee,
They can not stand the sun to shine,
They tell you what to think,
You can't fight City Hall because they put up a ten foot wall,
They can't hear, can't see, and won't speak no evil,
A crooked road where will this lead us,
To the deaths of the masses,
It spews hate it's the only thing that lasts,
Everything else is a worn out song,
"Follow the IRS you can't go wrong,
The IRS and it's sympathizers,
Go early to bed they are early risers,
Can't make love you can't go to war,
Not for a good reason or things worth fighting for,
Who's your daddy? What's your mama name,
Ask me no questions it's the end of the game,
Stand up sit down what should I do?
The IRS wants to get next to you,
They'll burn your house, they'll take your child,
Can't have it, ain't getting it,
I ain't got and I ain't gonna get.
Categories:
risers, black african american, confusion,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Memories of childhood.
I weep hidden among the shadows of my stained glass window.
I long for the scent of magnolis when the wind blows.
Sunrise over plantations casting shadows,
under the old oak trees,
with dangling moss, as the winds toss,
the echoes of children's voices through the air.
Dream! Do you dare?
Screened in porches, wooden rocking chairs.
The scent of jasmine blowing through the air.
Sleep my weeping willow.
Moonlight beams through my stained glass window.
Louisiana, where it never snows,
barefoot children and old dirt roads.
Mississippi River paddle wheelers, swampland, cattails, and strawberry fields.
Listening to calls of whippoorwills.
The hot humid bayou of Louisiana, I wish for the days when I was a child.
Ladies and gentlemen, southern beauty smiles.
Swampland for miles.
Mardi Gras krewes made their way down St. Charles Avenue.
Crowds of people pushed to get view.
The smell of cigars, cigarettes, sweat, bourbon, and beer.
Tons of people spread Mardi Gras cheer.
Sounds of musicians on Bourbon Street.
Woodpeckers pecking a rhythm of beats.
Harmonicas echoing late in the night.
A place where at dusk mosquitoes bite.
Water moccassins lurk in summertime.
Backyard barbeque and strawberry wine.
Early risers over beignets, and walks along the river banks,
underneath the cypress tress, a cool perfumed wistera breeze.
And though I weep in the silence of my soul,
with memories of yesterday along the railroad.
Categories:
risers, childhood, imagination, inspirational, life,
Form:
Free verse
Coffee
With cream, wheat toast,
And wife in sheer nightie
Radiant still: vibrant lover
Aglow.
Categories:
risers, love, marriage, wife,
Form:
Cinquain
Steam from fresh ground coffee
Mixes with smoke from cigarettes.
Syrup mixes with butter.
Eggs mix with toast.
Clinks of forks on plates
Mix with clanks of spatulas on the grill.
Last minute bar stragglers
Mix with early morning risers.
Morning crew coming in
Mixes with night crew getting off.
It's shift change at the diner.
Time for me to mix with my bed.
Categories:
risers, on work and working,
Form:
Free verse