Best Rivalries Poems
*Image of Kaleidoscope In Blue by Giphy.
When The Blues Are Fun
You consume the whole of me constantly,
Fair drafts ensure flight of our loyal tryst,
Though all known plans bear out uncertainty,
Our center grants said goals to be unmissed.
A misty vineyard drips of subtle dew,
And swells our noble chalice soberly,
Till such, we seal all promises won true,
Our profuse veins sip fortuitously.
Heaven embraces what Earth put apart,
Relished values carried by moral wings,
Sound valor our cultures nobly impart,
Adopted rivalries temptation brings.
Glorious when the twain of us was one,
Our intrepid tales, nonetheless, homespun.
2019 November 28
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND FORMAL
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 March 12
*3rd Place*
2019 best sonnet
~~John Hamilton: Judged 2019 December 16
*3rd Place*
Best Friend Sonnet
~~Regina McIntosh: Judged 2019 December 22
Categories:
rivalries, childhood, friendship, life,
Form:
Sonnet
When passion fails, love remains
Hills flattened and thus will your obstacles
Even if it seems impossible
No one can withstand possibilities
Day after day try not to lose hope
Abilities pops up like mushrooms
Yielding to negativity isn't going to help
Sooner you need to change your mind set
A day sets with new possibilities
Right now it's time to wake up and-
Erase the past that holds you back
Digging down my soul revealed a truth
Ambiguous visions translate to nothing
Rivalries suppresses innovative minds
Killing negativity gives birth to success
Finding your passion and dwell on it
Releases zest that keep's hustling alive
Intimidated by success is lethal
Erecting a tower with positivity is the foundation
Neither the storm of disappointments can win
Demolished goals can be rebuild again
Surrendering taking up a mission is cowardice
Active mind ignite uncontainable victory
Realization of a dream starts with one step
Endeavour to take a step forward each day
Fulfillment doesn’t limit industrious men’s vigor
Evicting indolent thoughts he does best
While they rest, i keep busy because I can rescue me!
Categories:
rivalries, humor, inspirational,
Form:
Acrostic
Once upon a time we all used to live together. By we I mean blacks and whites. The people from Ireland 'Irish" lived with black Caribbeans. They were shipped from Ireland as slaves to west indian masters. they settled in a place called Montserrat. None of the were freed from slavery. They never had a law passed to free Irish slaves. However, after they finished their work of their masters they eventually were set free.
Blacks lived with some Irish whites and British whites. They had to travel to Africa to gather people who knew nothing about slaves or slavery. They couldn't capture west indian people because that's where they came from. They used the money collected from their masters to buy their new slaves. African slaves were indeed freed by president Abraham Lincoln. Who wrote and signed the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863.
Even after slavery blacks and whites continued to live and work together. Some even had children by their masters. Things were this way for years. All they had was each other. All they knew was each other. The only two races forced to live together. Can't get along today in today's society. These facts maybe be a harsh reality, but oh so true.
They only two races of people that were not slaves were the Spanish and Italians. They were never owned, sold, or brought by a black or white man. They fought for their belief and freedom. Also demanded respect so they would not have to bow down to any master. They never got captured and beat. They did the beatings and never got beat. They also lived in black neighborhoods. Which sometimes caused riots. rivalries, and many fights. Due to they fact that both races are very similar in alot of ways.
Overall, blacks and whites both endured slavery to some extreme. Our ancestors would, protest, march, died, and sacrificed for our freedom today. So I don't understand why there is so much hate in the world today. If you don't know your past;you won't be able to handle your future. You will be without understanding. History does repeat itself. Thank You!
Categories:
rivalries, history, work, people, ireland,
Form:
Epic
Plenty of room in « Le Foot »* for Soccer
For Doug Vinson at PoetrySoup.com
I
Not long ago King Pelé
Set “le foot” in America
Today his peoples’ muted “Olé”!
Rue the day at Maracana
Now from coast to conniving coast
Your Can-Can gals kick “le balon”*
No Wall in between the goal-posts
To win at summit many a “galon”*
Alright! Keep your cherished football
Iced-hoc-key bounced balls in basket
But let echo corked-leather on “saule”*
Crikey! "le cri-cri"* of “le cricket”
II
Tremble at the hakka-cry of the All Blacks
Cringe before Aussie toughs at Springbok élan
And let them romp with the Six-Nation packs
Over your greens with fifteen Argentinian
Call out to the run-machine Little Master*
And let his blade flash home-runs tout azimut
Over heads of fielders spectators and trainer
And let your millions throb and catapult
Your new knights sans armour in world arena
And gasp at fresh records topple centuries*
On pitch and turf in Tests across suburbia
And join the world in friendly rivalries.
*"Le Foot"or "Le Fut": French for football/soccer.
*"le balon": French for ball.
*"le(s) galon(s)": French for "stripes" as in "to win one's stripes in battle" (gagné ses galons au combat) .
*"le saule": French for the willow tree. "Willow" is metonymy for the cricket bat as the latter is made from the tree.
*"le cri-cri": familiar French for "le grillon", the insect cricket.
*"Little Master", sobriquet of Sachin Tendulkar, the retired legendary Indian test-cricketer, the counterpart of the Brazilian Pelé in soccer. See my poem: "The Little Master: Sachin Tendulkar", my most-read ever poem.
*"centuries": batting records in cricket run into a few centuries, mostly in five-day international test-matches.
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Categories:
rivalries, addiction, america, baseball, basketball,
Form:
Quatrain
An evening stroll, on Midsummer Night's Eve ,
under the silver light of the horizon moon.
Life that burst among a small acreage,
of old-growth forests, flourished.
A delightful flurry of fireflies, drifting,
twinkle among the foliage, an amazing sight.
Echoing sounds moan through bough
and leaves disturbed the night grew cold and grim.
A sudden quiet came, not a whisper,
of leaf or waving bough, not a breath of wind.
The forest was swathed in gloomy shadow.
As I come upon an old museum adorned
with monolith standing stones.
Dim shadows obscured the eerie dark opening,
which formed a prelude to rivalries between evil and light.
Curiosity reeled me in, as my freighted body trembles.
What horrors wait inside? Annoying pride!
Please! Don't patronize me.", I told myself.
And awful, clenching nauseous feeling came over me,
with every step into the dark gruesome cavernous hall.
I didn't' want to walk any farther.
The moonlight sunk in casting shadows onto the walls.
Hideous, vicious grins sneered from carvings against the walls.
A sanctuary once filled with strange world treasures, gold and jade idols,
scepters, swords and masks embellished in jewels.
Finding, on a marble pedestal sat a crystal oval jar ,
with a picturesque opaque lid with a two inch statue of the goddess Athena,
in a long flowing gown, she held a spear on her right,
and a golden shield on the left .
An alcove on the far end of the wall sat a fiery red hair maiden,
wearing a flowing emerald green gown plucking the strings on a harp.
The musical sounds capturing the attention of whimsical creatures,
as a shimmering white Unicorn sat by her side.
Aromatic fragrance drifted within the room
with scent of blossoms and the cool sea filled the air.
I found it beautiful, warm, and embracing.
Not vindictive, but a smitten angel from heaven subduing nature.
An exciting victorious and fortunate feeling
flowed through my body, as I stared at her angelic sight.
7/17/2016
Athena is the goddess of wisdom, courage, inspiration, civilization, law and justice, mathematics, strength, war strategy, the arts, crafts, and skill in ancient Greek religion and mythology.
Categories:
rivalries, allusion, fairy, fantasy, music,
Form:
Free verse
I'd love to send you flowers Mother,
If there were some way I could.
For I know how much you loved them
And on you they looked so good.
We would pin them on your shoulder
And then take you out to dinner.
In a contest for best mothers
You would surely be the winner.
Hope you know how much we loved you,
The seven children that you bore.
We had our little rivalries
As to which one you loved the more.
You made us feel so special
And more precious than the rest,
For each of us was certain
She was the one you loved the best.
It has been a long time, Mother
Since we brought our flowers to you.
On this Mother's Day, dear Mother,
You must know we wanted to.
by: Joyce Johnson
Categories:
rivalries, mother, mothers day,
Form:
Rhyme
Chiraq
Date: Sun, Nov 15 2015 at 9:22 PM
("Killings")
("Victims")
"Imprisoned"
Highest ("Statistics")
In the ("System")
And of ("Disease")
Feeding the belly of the Beast "Obese"
Separated from Fathers & "Mothers"
Become "Hustlers"
Of the Streets Become "Brothers"
They Judge US by "Colors"
Only rightfully Almighty God Judge Can "Conduct"
"Poverty"
"Animosities"
Against the "Society"
Of the "Rivalries"
"Fighting" amongst Each "Other"
Mothers "Crying"
City "Dying"
Children in the City caught into "Violence"
Police "Sirens"
Ambulances "Flying"
To the scene "Outlining"
Of the Innocent "Lying"
Guilty of the Choices "Decided"
Drugs, & Guns "Imported"
From the "Forces"
To Openly "Extorting"
In the Man's "Voyage" Of "Torrents"
College "Tuitions" an "Unemployment"
Not Enough "Fruition" in the Schools Educational "Fulfilment"
I'm Speaking of Knowledge & "Wisdom"
Not in Texts "Written"
An History or Historic "Recipients"
It's Books "Written" of Historic "Apprenticeship"
"Inventions" Etcetera "Printed"
But in schools today not "Descended"
Math, Science, Reading, (Language) "Arts"
Speaking a "Language"
"Nameless"
to say isn't the "Hearth"
Of a "Nation" Created from the "Arch"
Of Gods "Blueprints"
It's not Blue's Clues to find the Blue "Scripts"
The (Media's) "Encyclopedias"
Is "Onamotopoedia"
Same Sound repeating the Image of the "Deceivers"
Amongst the ("Receivers")
Gangs, Sets, "Organizations"
Built on ("Foundations")
Amongst the Creation of the ("Nation")
That has been "Forsaken"
This the life "Chose"
Of ("Those")
Generations from Generations ("Rose")
Pray for a Change but I'll never "See" it
Because we Endangered Species in Existence upon ("Extinction")
I Hate Chicago an the World for number of ("Reasons")
I ain't on the Outside looking ("In")
Looking from Both sides of the ("Tent")
I ("Vent")
Is life all that has to offer to ("Exist")?
Categories:
rivalries, how i feel, lost,
Form:
Free verse
To The Victor Goes The Spoils
In the confined playing area within the concrete walls of a squash court..
The next few days will definitely witness intense rivalries inside the courts..
It the 1st leg of the local CIMB Junior Squash Circuit, it's a ranking competition...
For junior squash players to benchmark individual progress against the competition..
For over 4 days of stiff competition, players and their coaches will stay hopeful..
The end results will be a good vouch for their hard work and commitment in full..
Junior players from all nooks and corners of the country are gathered in numbers..
They are energetic and fit, all primed and readied to do battle for the top honors...
There are numerous age groups events, to provide level playing grounds...
For these racket-hefting youngsters to jostle for supremacy over a few rounds..
These budding talents, they are very passionate and typically rather emotional...
All against a backdrop of hard running and furious flurries of exchanged shots...
Once in a while, there are heartfelt screams, of jubilation and at times, frustrations..
Ever so often, in ample display, the free hand doing the fist pump of elation..
Tears of frustration will be in evidence, as pent up emotions are given vent...
Each time a player loses in a close encounter, another jubilates in elated victory..
Now there are no financial incentives attached to the ultimate performer...
The one player who beats the other victors in successive rounds, he's winner..
To each victor, the spoils of the battle is a chance to bask in triumphant elation..
To enjoy that feeling of confidence, achievement and euphoria amid admiration..
In a couple of weeks' time, hey presto! it will be again another competition time..
It will be time again to gauge the competition, to the winner the spoils of victory..
Categories:
rivalries, anniversary, appreciation, community, dedication,
Form:
Free verse
I am a woman
I’m not fragile
I’m not made of stone either
I may be likened to a rock
Flesh and blood is all I am
I love completely but I’m not a fool
I protect what is mine but I’m not selfish
I am a woman, a pillar to my family
Man don’t value our role
They ridicule our femininity
I suffered dominance in their hands
My femininity they used disadvantageously
My feminine is not a frame for my abilities
I am a woman and I can defy the odds
Rivalries prominent today shadow my novelty
My God given position does not make me diminutive
Fifty-fifty rule creates awareness of my capabilities
Corporate roles outline my abilities
After all I am a woman
Respect me for what I am
Don’t be intimidated by my achievements
They are not me but my ways to earns meat
I am a woman
Categories:
rivalries, me, woman,
Form:
Author Note: Anapestic tetrameter: two unstressed syllables followed by a
stressed syllable.
So I queried some poets who dance 'cross our pages,
With such lightness and patterns and passion-filled phrases.
"When your guidance is sought by one earnest and wide-eyed,
Do you deign to reply just to prop up your self-pride?
Do you tell her, 'It's simple, just read all you can
About me and my writing, how fluid I am.'"
Or perhaps you're a mentor by nature and offer,
To pry open the portals and share like an author,
Who reveals all his notes although mental they be,
And takes pride in the craft of his new devotee.
Yes, 'mong even the great ones (we've heard of a few)
Magnanimity faded as rivalries grew.
So our resolute neophyte meets with the names,
Those whose art she reads daily, and counsel she claims.
With the confidence born of a spirit secure
Many veteran artists opine to be sure.
Some are eager to share of their passion for rhyme,
And the metrical rhythm and pacing they find
so essential to verse in traditional form
With the internal metronome setting the norm.
"Yes, but what about consonance, diction and sound,
And the imagery seen in a free verse unbound
By the strictures and structures of metrical scheme?
Non-traditional verse deserves no less esteem."
In the end all agree that emotion's the key.
And the soul of the poet must yearn to be free
To give access to mystery, tragedy, joy,
Be the uncensored voice that will sometimes annoy.
Let your passion be sovereign, your unrivaled guide,
You are artist at canvass, palette at your side.
Author note: In the last line, "palette" is here pronounced with the accent on the
second syllable, as in French. Thanks for reading.
Categories:
rivalries, inspirational, passion, philosophy, passion,
Form:
Ballad
Dedicated to all the children who were
Victims of the conflicts in Syria
You have heard more grenades crack at dawn
As bullets wizz beneath your pale sun-
O Syrian Child! Whose family has been torn
By Taliban glories and Tribal rivalries.
O Syrian Child! To whom pain sets the day
To whom bliss only exists in the books-
You lost your sense of smile
And forgot to dream like every child.
O Syrian Child! before you she perished-
That sweet mother, blown in her parish:
You watched her Kick, as she supplicated you:
"Flee son, flee to Yabroud. Flee!! Alahu agba.
O Syrian Child! She was your only mark,
Since dad had fallen years gone and dark.
The Bomb had gotten her, as it had gotten him-
And now you are left to the world's cruel hymn.
Wipe your eyes, O syrian Child!
The pain bleeds your tender heart-
The terror of your people is a pile:
O child! How I dream you were a blissful lad.
Go down on your mat,
Pray, pray! pound out to Him,
Call out to him, sweet Allah,
He knows your broiled dilemma.
He knows, he knows, O Syrian Child!
Allah knows - that very God we worship.
There are tears in his tender eyes,
As he watches his people in ruin.
O child! there is a way up yonder
The Lamb rubs his head against you
Urging you to hope for joy by
Looking up to that God, Allah!
Categories:
rivalries, abuse, allah, bereavement, caregiving,
Form:
Ballade
My fellow countrymen, the President, Politicians, and pulpiteers Though not in a cave like Rip Van Winkle, I must have fallen asleep in "indifference and over-business". It was more than Van Winkle's 20 years, because prior to my sleep, I knew an America that dreamed of chickens in every pot; of carports, garages, and picket fences; of a good education and catching the Joneses.
It appears I am awaking, not from, but to, a nightmare; and to what am I opening my eyes to see? Me thinks it's not 'my country tis of thee'; not a chicken in the pot or fryer in the skillet. But I see leaders in the kettle like a frog, where the fire is turned down low and heating slowly. Like the frog, they are relaxed and comfortable. Oh Lord, if they only knew the manner of the frog's demise.
I see changes, and multiple evils have been removed. Recovery and relief have been appropriated and dispatched for the poor. Reforms and revivals have periodically visited us from above. I see blessings and prosperity beyond comparison; melting pots of dreamers and immigrants still dine at our tables. That's part of the American beauty.
Oh America, we are busy face-booking and twitting; But we must realize that we are also bleeding. I weep for what might lie ahead for us. I grieve for what we are becoming. I fear for us, though not of guns and nukes from afar; But for rivalries in the white house and the halls of congress. And I fear for our pulpiteers who also relax in the kettle like the frog.
07312017cjFBPH; August Standard Contest, Brian Strand Part fiction
Categories:
rivalries, america, conflict, confusion, god,
Form:
Ode
Nationalism,
nation supremacy,
rooted in competing patriarchal capital rivalries,
is entirely incompatible with EarthPatriotism
rooted in loyalty to cooperatively healthy matriotism
Wherever MotherEarth may yet be healthy climate rediscovered
in sensory input and outputs of a child
unbound breathing in enculturing good humor
Still fully awake
meaning much more than not yet dead,
Embracing Earth's Paradise found
means far more than ending homelessness,
bareness,
hopelessness,
For restoring cooperative peace
more than competing retributive-avoidance models
for justice as invoking a fee
and loss of freedom punishments
while preaching skills in anger and depression management,
but silent about happiness and compassion cooperative ownership.
Competition in nationalism,
whether white
against pink,
royal purple
against ultra-violet feminist,
even green
against black and brown prejudice,
each autonomously anti-ecological nationalistic stew
when we simmer down
into non-violent communication
of spatial Here
with temporal Now,
Competing FirstChoice nation-states
miss golden global opportunities
to embrace healthier polycultural outcomes
of multicultural cooperative grace,
polypathic WinWin karma,
polyphonic musing face
of Earth's well-timed expansive soul
revolving space
A healthy organic way to speak
and think
and feel as a day and night revolving child
naturally embracing WinWin
co-redeeming spiritual ecopolitics.
Violent competitions,
mutual abuse and neglect,
between ZeroZone sacred nations
are antithetical to cooperative conversations,
planning and nature development,
in EarthTribe non-violent WinWin communication
CoArising nighttime dreamscape melodies,
non-conspiring feeling peacefully immunized
against conspiracy theories
playing WinLose roles
embracing evolutionary predative jihad anxieties,
risks to bully or become bullied by chaotic capital climates
and internal bicameral storms,
nightmare feelings nauseously disassociating inside from outside,
ego against eco,
concave overbearing convex,
ZeroZone soul ignoring OneZone body's primal needs and feelings,
Right bipolar conflicting Left dipolar co-arising
EarthSoul Health integrity
prefers co-reflecting
4-SpaceTime Revolutionary Boson Models--
opaquely expanding DNA-structured splendor.
Categories:
rivalries, community, culture, health, integrity,
Form:
Political Verse
There’s Scottie in his chair
Tongue firmly in his cheek
Trying to wind up Old Noel,
The highlight of his week.
Noel, over eighty, Veteran
Of the Korean War
Gives as good as he gets
And dishes out much more.
Gordon’s his visiting carer
Sits there with a big grin
Not himself a veteran but
He’s managed to fit in.
Big Dave is eating as usual
Throwing in the odd word,
The vision of him ever fitting
In a tank now patently absurd.
Crann’s the honorary caretaker
Helping out while he waits
For his entry Visa to join
His fiancee over in the states.
Emily the teenaged volunteer
Who won’t take any lip
Has those hardened veterans
Under her slender finger tips.
Tuesday morning at The Centre,
Stacks of admin there to do,
Bur I’ve had to close the office
And get on with the brew.
It’s not yet ten o’clock
The Drop-in looks nearly full
Already starting the craic
The banter and the bull.
So many other people coming
In and out in a steady flow
As one comes in another
Just seems to get up go.
Regimental rivalries
Black Forces Humour
Downright lies and
Manufactured rumour.
Hobbie’s by the door
Taking the whole scene in,
Vic’s chatting to Chris
Who’s sat there with a grin.
That’s the way it used to be
But now it’s closed and gone
In a Covid changed world
Where things have moved on.
So many years we lasted
Existing from day to day
And then for some reason
We seemed to lose our way.
The rise of the Pandemic
Seemed to be the last straw
And the founding spirit just
Wasn’t’ there any more.
The Drop-in that helped so many
Was just too good to last
Like so many valued things
Just a memory of the past.
Categories:
rivalries, caregiving, loss, memory, military,
Form:
Rhyme
sitting here reflecting back
everybody who truly loved me still alive
your arms wrap around me like a dreamcicle creamsicle
we look at the lights illuminating the mountainside
early on, i thought my leg was being pulled like a joke or a ploy
later on, i realized that i am in the midst of an endless joy
sitting here with visions of my Mother scrabblin'
my Grandmother's smile and Granddaddy's pipe
Big Boy's beard and and a table full of southern cooking
a bit pudgy with all the energy of a growing boy
i was not even thinking about anything close to the vibe of an endless joy
sitting here thinking of sibling rivalries with Sis
so intense and serious we were over absolutely nothing
oh how i miss her baked goodies and her awfully constipated excitement
though at times each others spirits we would somewhat destroy,
we found common ground and the Central Theme in the realms of an endless joy
sitting here kissing the lips of a Miracle Queen
the anticipation in her eyes equally matches my own
as we pack the last of the stuff, we smile at each other victoriously and with admiration
we bow our heads to thank the Lord Jesus for all that we doth employ
for it is He that we Truly Celebrate, the Creator of all Endless Joy
Categories:
rivalries, appreciation, blessing, christmas, how
Form:
Free verse