Best Scrutinizing Poems
Happiness is expensive; it is something so rare,
It's there to be savored, a moment that's fair.
Clutch to the moment, extend its brief stare.
It comes on suddenly but it’s all wear and tear.
Yet I do believe that love lurks around,
Just search for it since to it you are bound.
You know that I found it in a most unlikely place?
In a small poorly child, hungry with a dirty face
Abandoned by all. So I gave her something to wear,
Also some bread, a mixture of fruit, an apple and pear.
When she looked up, scrutinizing me with glee,
Her lips smiled tenderly, then giggled at me.
With your light so might, I see my sight
transforms an untamed lady into a woman uptight,
Curves you portray in aura so bright
reflects my inner soul's desires i held long so tight.
Towel went off the floor, water leaves a gleam
on skin that radiates like in shimmering pearl cream;
Scrutinizing details so womanly it seems
found myself in a sizzling dream!
I close my eyes, bite my lip
All glory of visions come rushing deep;
I saw your vision standing near
Watching me intently, you look so dear.
Opening my eyes, I stare on my sight
found myself blushing and breathing so fast;
My lips went red at the bite I did
my eyes dazzled, as if I want the deed!
The music is on, jazz is playing softly on air
my eyes glued on the reflection of my pair;
Wondering the touch your hands may lay
caressing me in total foreplay...
I gasped at the thought, I smelled your breath,
tasted your tongue as your hands caress;
My body arched, feeling you beneath
oh, I know inhibitions in me; now, I cared less!
With this mirror reflections, I know enough
that from that moment I discovered as such;
I am a woman even how tough I was
Wanting you badly to be with me at last!
Mirror, mirror on the wall
when will be the time I will have my fall,
A fall with my man in unending bliss
Sharing same mirror, doing our perfect kiss?
Inner Whispers
Sponsor: FRANK H.
Contest Theme: I AM
The Agony Outside
Still sitting here wondering why my reflection always fades
And how that the phantom me causes shadows in the shade
Flying over thoughtless things as my sanity starts to slide
Breathing in the toxic fumes from the pollution of moral lies...
So intelligent but don't understand the things I contemplate
Lonely boy in the corner scrutinizing his own fate
Why is everything so confusing now brain activity losing pace
Crying on the shoulder of the reflection of his own face...
Time is running out tripping over the edge of being too deep
Life is just one endless day going months without sleep
The progress within killing me may be running a bit too high
Still left with doubt and wondering whether to live or to die...
bmdavey@04/26/16
Freedom ~ an inked kingdom
of macabre mirrors,
a vermiform lie
veiling the vehement suffering
amidst serpent estuaries,
surging within strangled skin,
as if I am the living sin,
jinxed by the crawling creatures
in the lamented labyrinth
of deceitful dreams,
inhaling venomous vapors
rising from the cursed creeks
that failed to caress
the brittle bones of delirious dawn,
where the nocturnal owl
sits, phasing stellar phantoms
on tattered twigs,
oblivious to the piercing pain I breathe,
as poetry feels like
a somatic hallucination,
a reflection of the phoenix crescent,
a dialect the naive can never comprehend,
the voice of truth,
the jaded outline of mortality,
can never interpret~
as the last sacred light of twilight
r e m a i n s
unmarked and lost to the Earth.
O wicked wind beneath
the crestfallen wings
of cruising constellations,
will this piece of paper save me
from the maleficent violets
in the spitfire blaze
of stigmatized stars?
I am stuck ~ hell-bound,
troubled placing my
tongue on Freyja’s chalice of tears,
for I feel oblivion closer than death,
I taste the flames of Tartarus,
I dance with demons,
I sing to the malevolent moon,
I see in distorted dimensions.
But would the ignorant know
I hear beyond what’s spoken,
in search of Eden and love?
I give gratitude to your God,
but the veiled care not~
this is beyond the making
of a self-forged inferno.
I am the harbinger of harmony,
my soul aches
to paint your scarlet spheres
in butterfly bliss,
praying in secret
that the deviant daggers in my spine
would blossom into russet roses,
their petals ~ like an elixir
to my paranoid psyche,
paralyzed in the
catacomb chaos of insanity,
as the scorpion Sun
k i s s e s
me one more time
with sweetened poison.
While you,
the spectators of this twisted spectacle,
condemn my insomniac aura
to stain the essence of my existence
with condescending colors,
unaware that
introspection is a powerful weapon~
all blood is blue,
and we breathe hypocrisy
scrutinizing the unknown....
You look at a sky full of stars
akin to trillions of diamonds.
And watch a gold doubloon moon climb
high amidst a starlit background.
Not a sound, just you, and your thoughts;
as worldly distractions vanish.
And scrutinizing God's handiwork:
your soul finds its humanity.
A sizzling shooting star trails light,
unzipping a curtain of sparks.
And a bat starts scanning for moths,
flapping skin-soft wings at nightfall.
Shifting shadows slowly conjoin,
crushing charcoal gray into black.
And tattooing twilight phantoms:
Dusk, inks day, in colors of Night.
Mist over the pond,
Morning bliss responds to light:
Lavender in bloom.
·
New purple roses,
Surround the Japanese bridge:
In lilac aura.
·
Vast purple petals,
Mixed phlox and lilies fresh scent,
Perfume morning air.
·
Soft sunlight appears,
Lush gardens bathe in warm rays:
Dissipating mist.
·
A mauve perspective,
The warm light casts reflections,
Of the French landscape.
·
A colorist scene,
Scrutinizing color change:
Unwritten poems.
I hear a song it doesn’t make me feel glee
Because my legs start shaking with a bursting pee.
I frequently listen to the radio for I love dramatic plays
But they turn my stomach bad like having a menstrual phase.
I observe closely those pornographic magazines
They make feel like wanking with all the nude scenes.
I touch my head searching intensely for hair
I keep on scrutinizing but there is nothing there.
I touch my ***** I’m afraid it has conceded
To again make it rise some viagra needed.
This is my unfortunate state of life
I have no woman, no lovers and no wife.
I imagine the echo of the once thundering herds,
Before the Bison succumbed to the tallow vats.
I listen for symphonies of the missing songbirds,
That made the Osage foothills their habitat.
The land that was theirs is no longer pristine,
Now the hills are interspersed with pump-jacks.
Barbed wire fences make today's boundaries clean,
And pickup trucks are the source of most tracks.
In scrutinizing my thoughts I invariably ask why?
While realizing that time man can't rearrange.
Then God paints a sunset on the evening sky,
An awesome portrait that man can't change.
Food and wine, at it's cocktail's best
classical sound been heard, anyone could rest,
men in tuxedos, woman in their best gowns
talking at civil manners, with smiles, enjoying the party,
small laughs and whispers, elite people usually do this, really.
Then you came and pulled me
to a hidden garden of the party's place, you grab and drag me,
a secluded place, enough for us to hide and stay
and from there, suddenly you appeared naked as we lay.
I sensed your hands irresistibly shaking,
pulling off my small piece of cloth there, and I know I am waiting,
kisses been done, hurrying and scrutinizing
as we exchange our touches, oh, so intensely burning!
Whispers I heard from your lips as you stare
can't remember the words but you seem to dare,
how you want me badly, heavy breath I sensed
which made me long for each move you gave and made...!
I traced your bare back, felt your skin
I felt your weight, too close, too near,
squeezing me so tight, though your hands gently guide
harsh but not hurting me, as you managed to slide and glide...
Hmn...every move you made, turned me into heat
I uttered, "Hon, not here, please..." though I want it too, I admit,
and I can't deny the feeling, pulled you into my deep
surrendering my soul, which brought me moan with bliss!
In my dream, you're so near, too close, you're so real
Don't want it to end, I wish not to wake up, what's this?
I cuddled my pillow, then began to weep
Why it isn't real but a dream, too much to keep?
Ahhh... I wish to be with you, to be near you now
fulfill my dream, make it real, feel you real,
and this makes me miss you more than ever
haunting these dream again and again to feel you than never!
Inner Whispers
A mountain stream
Laughing, longing, lasting
Through moments, wishes
Gentle vibrations
Craving the breathless
Praise flowing over
Smooth stones, racing free
Toward the sea of
Whispering grace
Breathing melodies
Beneath the shadows
Of humility and prayer
A humble farewell
As rainfall and dewdrops
Caress the misty morn
Rich hues of hope
Falling lightly
Against silent thoughts
Imagination, inspiration
Alive, dancing eagerly
Lighting the heart
With ambiences
Of faith, praise
Softly calling, scrutinizing
Searching for love
Among the stars
Who gaze at the liquid
Lulling naked thoughts
Into easy reveries
Dreams of serenity
Reflecting on the sun
Rays of comprehension
Bidding my soul
Kind adventures
Through graceful sprays
Of hungry moisture
Thriving on the inside
Where colors of love
Light up the whole world
Anything You Want - Must be New Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
July 30, 2021
Each weight increase signals defeat
and never fails to leave you blue.
For, when you strive to stay petite
each pound is repulsive to you.
You stare in the mirror of truth
scrutinizing each ounce of fat.
And seeking the girl of your youth
you can’t believe you look like that.
Skipping breakfast, you skimp on lunch,
and might require medical care.
But, you think no one has a hunch,
though your eyes are filled with despair.
Like malnutrition’s telltale trace,
regurgitation cuts no slack.
And you display a furrowed face
taunt skin and a skeletal back.
Mixing denial with deceit,
you cannot find solace in sleep.
For when you're starving yet won't eat,
anorexia’s roots run deep.
(Quatrain)
2/6/2017
Prophetic powers draw dark
eyes toward opportunity
hidden in ball of fire
predicting future.
Sibyl speaks. Boldly foretells
her lift over the threshold
and willfully conjures a
hunk of burning love.
Graceful, posing hands present
a strikingly handsome face
uplifted—scrutinizing
the love of his life.
Caryl Ramsdale
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved.
Dodoitsu Poetry Form
September 6, 2011
"CRYSTAL BALL" poetry contest sponsored by Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S.
~ 1st Place ~
9/18/2011
Out in the midst of a deep dark forest the soothsayers silently sat.
As they tried to make out either heads or tails from the entrails of a cat.
“What think ye?” said the first to his scrutinizing mate.
“What is it that we can tell King Eric about his coming fate?”
His wife took only a moment to consider what she had to say.
Then she offered up her thoughts “I think it will rain today.”
“Rain?” asked Keith the conjurer as stared at his Mariann.
“What does that have to do with the king? I don’t see how it fits the plan.”
“The King relies on Sir John the Brave he’s the knight that is truly trusted.
But when he travels with the King today he’ll become completely rusted.
And in his suit of armor Sir John will be frozen into place.
Allowing the King’s enemies to overcome him in the chase.
Tell the King to remain castle bound for at least another week.
He should not try to make a move until once again we speak.”
Then Mariann the seer moved a little closer to the fire,
And smiled because she knew she held the King like vice grip pliers.
I'm one of billions of human beings
trying to understand existence.
I feel inconspicuous;
a tiny piece of an intriguing puzzle.
I'm not in control of anything; all aspects of my life
are guided by an unknown force, a series of circumstances
that ultimately define my id.
Something outside my reality or grasp
set events into motion, resulting in me.
I am not alone; someone or something unseen
is with me on my journey through life.
Is it destiny? Is it fate? Is it God?
Oh, how I wish it to be God, a spiritual father
who loves me and is loved by me.
What is life's goal other than evolving the species
through an eternal cycle of procreation, birth, and death?
Scrutinizing nature, I find evolution is always in play.
In truth, are we so different? Do we have a soul
or a reason beyond hope itself to believe we are unique?
Only Man can question His origin;
thus, we view ourselves as an enigma within a puzzle.
We all share a curiosity and are capable of thinking outside the box.
But I'm not merely a cog in humanity's clockwork.
I am an individual puzzle piece designed to fit my role perfectly.
I've yet to discover by whom or what,
but I hope I shall in time.
My Doberman Pinscher won best of show
and was strutting around like a peacock.
One judge was none too pleased and let me know,
while scrutinizing my dog like a hawk.
She was a sarcastic bitter old prune,
treating both me and my dog with disdain.
And swore he'd be stripped of his standing soon,
she preferred the Schnauzer, and made that plain.
Unfortunately, as dogs often do
he lifted his leg and started to pee.
Her shoe would have to do, since there’s no loo,
and it got a resounding laugh from me.
After sullying this finger-wagger,
he walked with a champion's swagger.
(Sonnet)
09,02,2019
SWAGGER Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier