Best Selects Poems
...adapted from the novel 'Mr Pye' by Mervyn Peake
Balding and sprightly, he's filled with bold dreams
to make us all happy and free.
He selects as his target a small Channel Island,
a sampling of people just like you and me.
All he wants is that folks get along
without all their disputes and fights.
He tries to bring peace to this sheltered enclave,
just by doing good deeds he can sleep nights.
He practises witchcraft to bring them together,
'if it works' are his words for the day.
A sense of humour is paramount these days
to keep those nay-sayers at bay.
In the midst of these noble endeavours
he feels discomfort that turns out
to be wings that are sprouting quite clearly,
a cause for concern there's no doubt.
It seems that his kindness has made him an angel,
the more good deeds, the bigger they grow
'til they're actually poking right out of his shirt,
my goodness, they're starting to show!
So he counters with bad deeds in hopes that they'll shrink,
indiscretions and plain bald-faced lies.
Sure enough they diminish, in fact they're all gone,
he need not prepare a disguise.
But this scheme that he's started gets odder,
there's a growth on his temples, two horns;
he's been so busy negating the good that he's done
he's turned Devil, good heavens! he's torn
between Good and Evil, just what should he do?
he's conflicted, and lies in disgrace;
he sits down to ponder which way he should turn,
it's as clear as the nose on his face!
On the horns of a moral dilemma,
he simply gives in to pure Good;
he embraces his folk, he just loves them to death,
'til his wings are full-sprouted he'll
take to the air and keep flying
as far as infinity goes,
so he bids his people a tearful farewell,
next stop for our Spirit, who knows?
Categories:
selects, philosophy,
Form:
Verse
...adapted from 'Mr Pye' by Mervyn Peake
Balding and sprightly, he's filled with
bold dreams
to make us all happy and free.
He selects as his target a small
Channel Island,
a representative sampling of people
just like you and me.
All he wants is that folks get along
without all those disputes and fights.
He tries to bring peace to this
sheltered enclave,
just by doing good deeds he can
sleep nights.
He practises witchcraft to bring
them together,
'if it works...' are his words
for the day.
A sense of humour is paramount
these days
to keep all those evil-believers at bay.
In the midst of these noble endeavours
he feels discomfort that turns out
to be wings that are sprouting quite clearly,
a cause for concern there's no doubt.
It seems that his kindness has made him
an angel,
the more he does good deeds
the bigger they grow
till they're actually poking right out
of his shirt,
my goodness, they're starting to show!
So he counters with bad deeds
in hopes that they'll shrink,
indiscretions and plain bald-faced lies.
Sure enough they diminish, in fact
they're all gone,
he need not keep himself in disguise.
But this scheme that he's started
gets odder,
there's a growth on his temples, two horns;
he's been so busy negating the good
that he's done
he's turned Devil, good heavens!
he's torn
between Good and Evil, just what
should he do?
He's conflicted like never before.
He sits down to ponder which way
he should turn,
till it's clear, sitting right at his door.
On the horns of a moral dilemma
he simply gives in to pure Good.
He embraces his folk, he just loves them
to death,
till his wings are full-sprouted; he could
take to the air and keep flying
just as far as infinity goes,
so he bids his people a tearful farewell,
next stop the cosmos, who knows?
Categories:
selects, inspirational, people, people,
Form:
Verse
Evening enchantress, she carefully selects
The most exquisite place in the sky to repose.
A marvel is our Luna, inspiring
Silver poetry, tides, and young forbidden love.
Delicately pretending to not watch
At the same time, missing nothing
Stirring imaginations, inspiring music and song.
Tempting the super controlled to be more brazen.
Inciting riots and applauding unfamiliar
Maniacal behavior in her full of herself state.
Evening enchantress, never going lightly
Especially when she is full.
Magic evening enchantress, revered by all.
Showing her face, and her wiles.
Sharing whispers with hoot owls and wolves.
Visiting nightly, outside windows of dreamers.
Written 3-08-19
Contest: Liquid Luna Lace
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Categories:
selects, moon,
Form:
Free verse
...adapted from the novel 'Mr Pye' by Mervyn Peake
Balding and sprightly, he's filled with bold dreams
to make us all happy and free.
He selects as his target a small Channel Island,
a sampling of people just like you and me.
All he wants is that folks get along
without all their disputes and fights.
He tries to bring peace to this sheltered enclave,
just by doing good deeds he can sleep nights.
He practises witchcraft to bring them together,
'if it works' are his words for the day.
A sense of humour is paramount these days
to keep those nay-sayers at bay.
In the midst of these noble endeavours
he feels discomfort that turns out
to be wings that are sprouting quite clearly,
a cause for concern there's no doubt.
It seems that his kindness has made him an angel,
the more good deeds, the bigger they grow
'til they're actually poking right out of his shirt,
my goodness, they're starting to show!
So he counters with bad deeds in hopes that they'll shrink,
indiscretions and plain bald-faced lies.
Sure enough they diminish, in fact they're all gone,
he need not prepare a disguise.
But this scheme that he's started gets odder,
there's a growth on his temples, two horns;
he's been so busy negating the good that he's done
he's turned Devil, good heavens! he's torn
between Good and Evil, just what should he do?
he's conflicted, and lies in disgrace;
he sits down to ponder which way he should turn,
it's as clear as the nose on his face!
On the horns of a moral dilemma,
he simply gives in to pure Good;
he embraces his folk, he just loves them to death,
'til his wings are full-sprouted he'll
take to the air and keep flying
as far as infinity goes,
so he bids his people a tearful farewell,
next stop for our Spirit, who knows?
Categories:
selects, adventure, spiritual, people, people,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Each line has a life
As it glides across canvas,
Creating a world
Of its own.
Every stroke of the brush
An extension of soul,
As the artist selects
The next tone.
The blending of colors,
The depth of the shade.
Shadows suggest
The unknown.
There is softness and texture,
Warmth to be felt.
A heart that should not
Be alone.
It's a child that reaches
For love and affection,
Crawling until
It can stand.
Constantly changing
From its conception,
Until the last stroke
Of the hand.
Categories:
selects, change, growth, imagery,
Form:
Rhyme
I'm not the greatest of all-times, but when I'm done,
I'll be an all time great in this lifetime of mine
Like the late great who came before my time
I will breed a new lifeline, that will breathe life like march of dimes
My story lines, will bring truth life; like troops who fight
Overseas, for rights of those who believe that death is life
Now that ain't right!
As the rich is getting richer, eating fillet me-non, while we barely feeding our appetite
Night after night
Survival has waged a war that gave us no choice but to battle and fight
Although, we'll be all right
They say we a dying breed, but that ain't right
Instead we're the light to a lying greed
That will enlighten life to a brand new seed
A man of God indeed
Freed from the Son that bleeds
Like the summer breeze
He's the sum that equals the amount of air I breathe
The air that please
A satisfaction like the birds and the bees
My word's words are the keys
That will fornicate with the mind and give birth to a seed
A seed of social change, that'll change our social economy
So shall our comradery
That will bring comfort to a struggling society
A synonym...similar to a civilization seeking for unity
Unifying the physics of theory
That seeks to explain the synopsis of a dying philosophy
Similar to the Cosby
X-cept my scrip-tic will speak more about our reality
Like life's calamity
And everything else in life that's destroying us systematically
However, I've discovered a system
That can mathematically destroy ignorancy
And turn our state of mind intellectually
I elect that He (God) selects me to be
And be that man who may lead this community
So that they (My Peoples) may commute with me
En-route to a destination, destine towards our destiny
Like we were destine to be
We were meant to be "Great" like the late great that came before we.
Because we are...
The reflection where perfection gave birth to the definition of greatness
Where great means Competent, Skilled, Well Informed, and Tremendous
Our potentials are endless
And only we not even the enemy can put an end to this
So it's time we put a stop to this
The biggest enemy of self
And that's envy and jelousness
Cause after this is Heaven or Hell and that's all there is
A promised made sealed with a kiss
Knowing this
Is the next best thing since "In the beginning"
In the first chapter of the first verse in Genesis!
Categories:
selects, absence, analogy, conflict, confusion,
Form:
Acrostic
Sanatan Dharma in Hinduism means
Universal religion, eternal truth, Ankh
Globally it means Universal law.
Religion is like the peel of banana
and spirituality is the banana.
Speak the truth which is preferable that
Intelligent one prefers it while the
Ignorant one selects the pleasurable.
Do not speak the truth to manipulate
Do not speak to please someone.
The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over;
Thus the wise say, the path to Salvation is hard
So begins The Razor’s edge of Somerset Maugham
Who visited India and met The Saint Raman.
All these leads to Yoga, so the wise one thinks.
When the senses are firmly reined in
From distractions a man is then free
for Yoga is the coming-into-being.
as well as the ceasing-to-be.
===============================
Ninth Place winner
For the contest: Broad Horizons by Deborah Guzi Subject- Sanatan Dharma - Hinduism
========================================================
*The word Sanatan means ‘Eternal’ and Dharma means religion. In broader sense Dharma
means spirituality.
*Salvation is hard." taken from a verse in the Katha-Upanishad - 1.3.14. Maugham had
visited India in 1938 and met Ram, the great Saint of India.
*The words Hindu and Hinduism came from the usage of the term Sindhu. "Outsiders" who
encountered Sanatanists living near the Sindhu river in the western portion of Bharat (the
original and still used Sanskrit name for India) referred to them as "Sindhus" and their unique form of worship as "Sindhuism." Though there was a Sindhu river, Sindhu is actually a generic term for river, and many believe this term was used in a metaphorical sense implying the river or spirituality that flows through all thing–in other words, Sanatan Dharma. With this understanding, the terms Sanatan Dharma and Hinduism become interchangeable with an identical meaning.
Categories:
selects, religion, river, truth, ,
Form:
Verse
I love the sense of wonder
right after a rainstorm.
That fish bowl feel of a world
baptized anew.
The sun selects individual
leaves on which to shine.
The air is fresh as laundry on a
line.
Plump red robins scurry nun
like over the lawn
Resigned to the role of hunter
and being hunted
Sparrows impatient as over
ripe fruit on the vine
Jackhammer chatter from
branches densely entwined.
Rain drops form then slide
from blocked up gutters
A jack knife dive onto rain
pocked soggy ground
Departing clouds leave a hint
of a slate grey trail
As the garden unburdened
relaxes and exhales
Categories:
selects, garden
Form:
Verse
Your poetry is dark, Mark Strand.
I want to emulate it as I hate
each line. I want to cast it out,
then hold it to my breast
as the defeated one who knows
I could have said it first
had I retreated into selfhood,
placing honesty in all effrontery
and drawing forth the man
who dips into the soul
and finds his art.
I didn't do it.
The gold I see encrusted there
forever lies in your domain.
Every plain-scribed thought remains
your own no matter myriad the times
I have encountered it before,
for words fall on their knees
when spirit rules and art
is not contrived but flows forth
from its source.
I read these washer-woman words
with more than admiration, Mark.
I fondle them, enshrine their pages
with repeated reads, and you
will understand I fondly hate them
as they trace the highways
that a poet laureate selects,
the curves and scenic stops
along the way that I
shall never see or share.
~
Categories:
selects, appreciation,
Form:
Free verse
Selective Memory
Yesterday's memories
made new again.
never let me forget
I hold onto pieces
of
my life in my mind-
The day that I
forget,
is the day that I
have nothing left.
Who selects these
memory samples?
The smile, the one
dimple
the pinch-able
cheeks.Chin with cleft..
To love you was
so simple.Love
reasoned out in
tantrums and pouts--
Pull the plug
Old water down the
drain
new rain in water
spouts-
transferred hugs-on
memory lane.
I hold onto those
pieces
of my life,fresh new
dresses
twirling
-twirling,hair
curling,
curling - falling
tresses of
festive locks.
I invested in no bad
stock.
We dance in
our memories with
great ambition-
every move precision -
Who made this
decision?
Not aware of why
these memories
were chosen by the
selector to re-main.
I hold onto pieces
of my life in my mind-
The day that I
forget,
is the day that I
have nothing left.
Categories:
selects, memory, old, spiritual,
Form:
Verse
Lower you say? No way!!!!!!
Sewer rats fare better
Politicians are the bottom
Of this poetic society
Yet for all their failings
We are protected
We are spoiled
Laziness is our new Idol
Oh let us sit on our chairs
Ranting poetic verse
Let us not lift a finger
Contributing to society, this must surely be a sin
Besides, if we endeavor to help?
Will they not label us politicians?
NO NO NO not that
Let me complain!!!!!!!!
He who complains is KING
Power corrupts!!!
This is true
The fools who don’t vote
Keep them there like glue
You too can be a politician
If you really care
To get off your azz
Go change the world, I dare you
Oh wait you shall see
Not so easy in that high moral chair
With all your critics climbing to demolish
Re-election is a love affair
Brave men and woman have died
So that you can have freedoms and the vote
Be ashamed if you are a critter on the couch
Of those fine men who died for your right
To do nothing
Yelping like dogs and complain, sure feels good
Politicians are people just like you, yuck!!!!!
Good and bad there is no doubt
When good men fail to speak out
Bad ones fill their shoes
So I say this to all
Stop your laziness……fools
For surely, the fool is the one
Who selects the king he does not want
Unless of course
He was busy with a nap and missed it all
If you are not a politician
Who are you?
I dare ask?
Notes: This sure is not meant to defend politicians, this is meant as a humorous write to show that not all things are so black and white. I certainly do no like the current state of affairs, but I do know this, not participating, not contributing, not helping to make things better, not getting involved, are not the answers. People died for our freedoms, and we have become to lazy to stand up for them. If you don’t like who is in Office, then by all means let’s make it you who is in Office. Many good politicians are saddened that when they get there, they have no support. Here is a happy thought, when you wake up each day ask yourself, “what can I do today, to make this world a better place” and it can be the smallest of details, all great things start with a seed!
Happy Days to all you Soupers!
Categories:
selects, funny, hilarious,
Form:
Carpe Diem
There will be no secrets
Nowhere to hide
The left and right being outwitted
And little brother inside
The drones and data crawlers delve
Dreams and nightmares being ourselves
Compiled evidences mount concern
While mankind’s bridges burn
Our cyborg image never shown
Our accessories scent allured us
Hums of technology a pleasant moan
We breathed deep the aroma’s service
Bandwidth culture firmly in place
Everyman has no face
Ethnicity of avatar and clan of choice
Everyman selects a voice
The blind face themselves feeling
Something’s missing out of sight
Reaching for the cognitive ceiling
Surrendering for wrong and right
To machines constant drumming
The overfuture’s coming
Where there’s nothing left to do
And no difference from me to you
Categories:
selects, future, internet, life, society,
Form:
No road elects to prune
a wavy path past mindless
parts of this life,
resembling our ghosts,
my love
I need no hearing,
no strings and
no sounds,
I need only hear your voice...
No love selects a raindrop's
teary glide,
that leaves a broken heart
unheeded,
my love
Those wails we use to un-robe
a sheath of repeated loss,
Demand we know...
and say no,
the second before we deplete
the trust
My love,
I know no worth
beyond the faith you bestow on me
No right to think
aside from that storied
black man steel
My world elects to choose
your captive smile,
kept in tow for him...
to signify
my love denied
My love,
That welts and strain
wrap our shared images with a glare
is an un-repeated refrain,
of the sunlight at dawn
That strands of desolation
retain misguided parity
with our measured truth,
is dusk's residual question
When rivers line up neglected masses
of sand
and our curative rain ceases,
in the resulting twilight...
We can only call belief, endurance,
and call sanity...brave
We invoke a fictive trust
replete with faith
For our elusive love to live
endessly
With you, my love,
We ask questions of fate,
that dies under rocks
unturned...
unheard...
Until the fate itself
loses its life
in a lost dream's unneeded
disguises
Our triumphs
call our dark moments reprieve
when all else fails
We lose our loves
in reprieves and dreams,
for our daring sanity
to stay brave
We call for each other's loves
to return like haunted dreams
To say for you my love. Unsaid.
And for me your love...
to never know
for sure...
Categories:
selects, sad love, endurance,
Form:
The Call of God
One cannot truly understand why God
selects a person with whom His secrets He choose to confide,
and He living closer it seems to them
His presence in their life is found there to abide.
Does He select such a one by their beauty
their grace or by their overwhelming charm,
or does He have a deeper sense of this one’s character
by more than the flesh of their arm.
Has He ventured deeper into the recesses
and corridors of their heart,
does He know what makes them tick or laugh
or cry, for after all, these all play an important part.
Has He seen the future and whether or not
this child will yield to Him their all,
or would they hold a portion of their life back
and between them and Father God choose instead to build up a wall.
Has He seen their secret sins and deep struggles
of their heart that makes them want to die,
for they truly desire to be holy for Him
and can’t understand all the reason why.
Certainly, I believe He sees the heart’s cry
and answers many times before we whisper or ask,
forgiveness, cleansing, strength and for hope
I know this is the Lord of my life, and His love for me will always last.
Written by: Marilyn Jennings
Categories:
selects, care, visionary,
Form:
Free verse
The sculptor selects
a mallet and a chisel,
repositions the
rock, creates the tailings to
pave the statue’s patron path.
Categories:
selects, art,
Form:
Tanka