Best Severely Poems
Note : This poem is inspired by the artwork and we chose to focus on it from a mental health perspective and how inner demons can play a significant role in relationships as well as considering siren myth and legend.
I am the eclipsed dawn,
swathed in searing blooms,
hemorrhaging the heat of restless smoke
into perfumed thorns
and sighing thistles ~
whilst aching to be loved
beyond the damage I cast,
like the queen of darkness,
dancing with demons.
Let your exhaustion cascade into me,
all being healed between this madness and rest.
Incessant pull caresses insistent longing;
collapse and captivation fuse to desire.
Flesh and energy intoxicate these bodies
in the time before hunger evaporates.
Death charges on
as you follow me into the stillness.
And what if the first spark of stars
hardened our night into a kingdom
of ice and frost,
of hurt and hollowness ~
would we not remain infatuated lovers,
pouring poison into
the grass that breathes
in chronic colors of this doomed devotion?
Without surrender, we sing in silence,
yet our swooned hearts remain drowsy from swirling strings,
twisting and turning on a surface seared severely by the sun.
What better way to fill the air with the fragrance of our thirst?
Let us fade into the dim fog
as we cosmically flourish ~
a forest of lustrous chaos, unseen, unbound.
Hold me in a cluster of all your stars,
the delicate ones you’ve laminated and fear might scar.
I’ll cradle them in the softest scarves ~
but even roses carry thorns all the way down their stems.
Mirabelle orb ascends,
under clementine and pomegranate skies.
Absent,
in delight of daylight.
Eyes set adrift in dawning daydreams.
Calm heart is an oceanic concerto,
flowing along sapphire tones.
Deep breaths walk upon water,
caressed by Poseidon's piano keys.
Pulsating palpitations beat eloquent echoes,
rousing freely along rhythmical ripples.
Searching for symphonic serenity -
composition of waves, amicably,
pave a path towards destiny.
Hope vibrates like Apollos's lyre and lute strings,
as winds whistle lost tunes from Athena's flute.
Melodies of the silent sea summon torpid tides,
as desire merges in harmony with the harbour -
passionately embracing barren shores.
Aroma of dusk's dew cools in night's velvet sheen,
as sinking sun is submerged into the deep blue sea.
Sprinkling of pearls appear - their reflection
shimmering upon watery midnight blue stillness.
In silent clarity of blackness,
flowing footfalls of fate purify -
awakening mind from its reverie.
The Silent One
6 September 2020
Mirabelle - a plum, also known as mirabelle prune or cherry plum, is a cultivar group of plum trees of the genus Prunus. It is believed that the plum was cultivated from a wild fruit grown in Anatolia.
Poseidon, in ancient Greek religion, god of the sea (and of water generally), earthquakes, and horses.
Apollo has been recognized as a god of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the Sun and light, poetry, and more. His two musical instruments were the lute and the lyre.
Athena was a talented flute player, as she created it, but others ridiculed her when she played due to her cheeks. In disgust, she threw away the flute and said whoever picked it up and played it would be severely punished.
Whiskey on the rocks, advised by my doc
combats dementia, so bring on the blocks
no need for a glass; I'll have me the bottle
with a big bowl of ice this baby I'll throttle
The whiskey's gone, now a brandy'd be fine
my inside's on fire, there's a hoop up my spine
swigging from the bot comes at a price
I'll temper the fire with whole blocks of ice
The flames have been doused; rum, if you please?
my head's in a clamp; ice will loosen the squeeze
now, be a sport and pile on the ice
two bowls or more I think should suffice
Three bottlesh down, all on the rocksh
my tootshiesh are shtarting to curl in my shocksh
my shmile is chemented, my lipsh glued together
my fashe the feel and texture of leather
Twishe left, thrishe right my head ish shwinging
short, long, short, long my earsh are zinging
either I'm crosh-eyed or my brainsh have been fried
elsh why are my legsh by three multiplied?
I'm freefalling on shixh feet firmly earthed
alternating twixht lower and then upper berth
vocal chordsh tangled, shizhably crimped
I'm walking with a lishp and talking with a limp
I'm teetering-tottering or tettering-tortering
I've no clue which ish which and given up wondering
the world ish a blur; I musht be plarshtered
the liquor went down well; ishe warsh the barshtard
On all foursh – nay, twelve, I reach the bed
now I'm pondering and shcratching my head:
am I waking up or about to retire?
I shimply topple over, my whole being on fire
In the Land of Nod I'm harnessed by tether
in comely dreams of cowboys and leather
when plagued by a swishy feel in my bladder
swelling as fast as a pregnant puffadder
Abruptly awakened when a stream emanated
unable to move, still intoxicated
stuck to my bed and severely drenched
nausea ensued in the encompassing stench
How my stomach reacted I'd best not relate
suffice to say it was a full freight
soiled and hung-over, a word of advice:
liquor's fantastic but steer clear of ice
Wonder not
if my thoughts are thrilled and twisted
daily and deeply by the albums of your ways,
I succumb severely to the impulse of imminent interplay
so dumb with joy, grateful for the fusion of our fevers,
I've never let you leave my mind,
you haven't finished eating your portion of my heart,
there is so much more for you, still in my chest, on my eyes,
I am your rare happiness,
that bare beast of a woman's best distress,
trigger your storm sirens with a single drop of Goodbye,
serve you with the most sensational sadness,
replenish your youth with an admiration that won't die,
knowing that I am not a makeshift man, nor a loyalty within a lie,
that I'll punish your pulse with peppered pleasure
because I can, because I must,
pull your hair just to hear those breaths beg for big flares,
treat the smooth and sweet lascerations of love's lament
butterfly cut into the surface of a girl's search for sincerity,
we get intoxicated on performance of personality,
buzzed beautifully from believing in the addiction of adoration's affliction,
We know we can handle one another's hurt
as warriors bleed hard because they sell themselves the sacrafice,
that we can process history with humor by breaking the shame of blame,
synthesize epiphany with sympathy to nourish symphonies of Divinity
we realize that intensity is the regal implement of our tournament,
I like it when you tell me the tough truths,
that you want to be loved for more than one reason,
that being respected in segments isn't enough,
that he will never be me,
that words can outlast the disappointment of distance,
that the world overwhelms you when you most expect,
that sometimes you'd rather be a heart attack
before being a pretty song or a favorite memory,
I understand your need for absolute affection, absolute attention,
lets allow our love to be confusing, dazzling, on the verge of villainy,
it isn't steady as a sleeping heart beat
or ready for celebration like a " gee wiz " graduation,
it is our Love, and its undefinably volatile and lovely,
Your cosmos gives a question that feeds one answer,
that love is ours, safe in the arms of Armageddon,
I remember the ember of our future
spazing on the hearth of fresh earth,
don't ever miss me Babe, just keep lovin me -
J.A.B.
I didn't always adhere to the warnings of the experts
who declared nothing beyond time-outs should be used
to correct a child’s behavior—that parents must not,
even temporarily, take away a toy or a privilege OR
use “psychologically damaging” responses like
“What you just did was bad”!
When you, as a teenager, fought me at every turn,
when you despised me--or seemed to--
the experts' words came back to haunt me.
Still, I continued on my chosen path and tried
not to reveal how defeated and helpless I felt.
While the renowned psychologists were saying,
"The teenager's privacy must not be violated,"
I was watching you, not always from afar.
When, in spite of me, you began accomplishing a degree
privacy at the tender age of 14, you hid from me, opting
to use that freedom to forge risky relationships
that alienated you from those who really cared.
Over time, something beautiful happened.
You metamorphosed into a fine young lady.
As a parent, you have neither punished severely
nor spoiled your children. You've limited
their privacy and kept hold of the reins.
As they sneer at you and rebel, you wonder,
as I once did, If you've taken the wrong route.
I can't verbally assure you that you haven't.
I can't give you an encouraging embrace.
Perhaps I did enough while I was there.
January 1, 2019, entered in Emile Pinet's Free Verse Style Poetry Only contest,
placed 2nd
February 4, 2019, entered in Chantelle Anne Cooke's Favorite Free Verse Contest
They say you cannot love someone if you do not love yourself
But loving yourself has nothing to do with feeling for someone else
I know because I spent many years severely hating myself
But I often felt deep love for friends I considered to be top shelf
They inspired love in my heart, which for myself was not ever true
I always wondered why when they would earnestly say "I love you"
In my mind I did not deserve love but with them that was not true
To love myself was something for me that always was taboo
You cannot force love on someone, this has always been true
But what do you do when the person you can't love seems to always be you
A poem about my past. I no longer feel this way.
Oh sweet rain:
What? A siren somewhere draws nearer and nearer
Blue lights are flashing in my rear-view mirror!
Yes officer?:
What's the problem? I'm legal; what IS this about?
I sure wasn't speeding; is my tail-light burnt out?
Oh no sir:
You were stopped when I noticed ever so clearly
That your car was swerving rather severely
Ahh, yes officer:
I'm sure you'll understand, sympathize and agree
I was trying to finish a poem, you see
Try-ing-to-fin-ish:
Sir, calm down, just relax and please take your time
Do you mind if I ask the SUB-JECT of this rhyme?
CERTAINLY not officer:
It's about how the street-lights shine and reflect
Upside down when it rains and the pavement gets wet
Very good sir:
Next time call a TAXI or pack a bicycle!
May I ask you to step outside your vehicle?
Five Tomatoes Away
Five tomatoes away
from devastation.
The bullies bully me.
They give big breaks to
corporations-While taking
unfair shares from citizens
and cutting down on
pensions and "Social Security".
I have no security!
The Arabs store on
the corner is
selling wine, beer and
cigarettes.
Sending their tax free
money home to
fight against our boys.
His taxes are
deferred, and when
time comes to pay
The business is now
switched into his cousin’s name.
One tomato is two dollars...
so I am five tomatoes away,
and I haven't had a salad today. I
am being raped, while they
are getting breaks.
I get reprimanded
severely, they are always
Shaking my tree.
I said "I have no money"
I am not living here tax free.
The levy goes
into effect on the
thirtieth day, so
I budget sparingly,
and have had no
salad today;
I am five tomatoes
away, from homelessness
and devastation;
I wish I had a break like the big
corporations
One day before
I leave this planet I hope to
find dignity.
And eat a Salad everyday
and live life healthily
never again
having to worry
about being
Five Tomatoes away.
Getting old around
here is horrible;
My senior years
unpleasant....
I paid my dues to the
I.R.S., now they
want another present.
I hope to survive
another day, while
they tax my pension;
And so, I pray....
let me eat
another salad, in spite
of being ....
Five Tomatoes Away!
So yes, I've had no tomatoes,
I've had no tomatoes today.!
Kittens and Butterflies Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper
~Rosie and Lady~
MORNING
A Painted Lady drinks nectar from a flower,
gathering pollen to nourish other plants,
a darling kitten, Rosie, seems lost full of glower,
Lady floats to her, as her crimson wings expand.
Gathering pollen to nourish other plants,
she sees Rosie alone while shedding a few tears,
Lady floats to her, as her crimson wings expand,
“I am confused and lost, thanks for finding me here!”
She sees Rosie alone while shedding a few tears,
a darling kitten, Rosie, seems lost full of glower,
“I am confused and lost, thanks for finding me here!”
a Painted Lady drinks nectar from a flower.
AFTERNOON
Alone they wandered far beyond the horizon,
Rosie smiles as she watches Lady flip and flap,
they journeyed into a dark cave, very surprising,
oh no, they were so scared and severely trapped!
Rosie smiles as she watches Lady flip and flap,
the darkness took over and left them alone,
oh no, they were so scared and severely trapped!
Finally sun peeked through and they went home.
The darkness took over and left them alone,
they journeyed into a dark cave, very surprising,
finally sun peeked through and they went home,
alone they wandered far beyond the horizon.
~Date Written: March 15, 2016~
It had been twenty-seven years since the sisters had seen each other – twenty-seven Christmases and birthdays. Twenty-seven years where hurt sisters refused to be in the same room together. Their mother’s sadness appeared to them as anger and disappointment. She tried to shame them for the first few years, not changing the situation an inch for the good. They were both set on their path of righteousness, totally unwilling to communicate in any way with the sister they had cut out of their life and their heart.
As a result, their mother held two Christmases celebrations for twenty-seven years, hinting around, that she wanted them to somehow resolve this and be a family again. The feud was held onto firmly, grasped hard and fast, poked red and raw for a long time. It would have probably continued for another twenty-seven years if their mother had not fallen severely ill, dangerously toward death. The sisterhood they had cherished in childhood, had served them no purpose in adulthood. They had seven children, between them, and none had met their mother’s twin.
The hospital corridor was deathly quiet when the second daughter stepped inside to walk the corridor that led to her mother, in room 435 North. Two of her children sat down on chairs, across from grown cousins they had never met, and did not expect to ever know. No one spoke. Seven grown children, all waiting, wondering what their mothers would do. The door opened and the twins were together one last time with their mother. The sobbing could be heard in seconds as they fell into each other’s arms, and became sisters again.
The mama smiled
from glory’s spiritual realm
daughters feud now gone
Dated: August 1, 2018 Contest: For Your Poetry Journal Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings
No one knows...The pain I've suffered and gone throught.
If you can't relate, maybe you can see my pint of view.
No one knows...That I was a child severely confused.
I was physically and sexually abused.
I went through yesterday what you see today on the news.
I still feel the bruise....
No one knows...That depression affected me to the core.
My emotions within me causing war.
The paranoia would be hard to ignore.
I would listen for footsteps creak outside my bedroom door....
No one knows...The extent of my distrust.
My heart did as it must and it was hard to adjust.
No one knows...That during the night I would cry myself to sleep.
The physical scars were more than skin deep.
No one knows...Those personal demons affected my courtships,
And my fear of abandonment would destroy my relationships.
No one knows...I overcame these obsticles alone.
Slowly this organ has healed beneath my breastbone.
No one knows...I long for that love and security.
I'm praying for that strong woman to come along and comfort me....
"Lucky 8"
Recently, a Revelation had come to mind
Woman's Pulchritude has diminished so severely
And as a God Fearing man, I feel Discomfort dearly
Eight tales of heartbreak, why was that so easy for me to find
A Paragon I must be where the heart is concerned
For I Adore women for all that they have become
Their bodies are Blazing hot to the point I am dumb
So I mastered the art of Charisma, something every man should learn
July 28, 2018
Harrowing shifts placating Palestinian patients
Awkwardly healing bones, injuries war caused
Comfort we gave seemed severely insufficient
Soul mates meeting among pain, implausible
Crutch hobbling boy with copious haphazard grin
Caught both our hearts, we smuggled him chocolate
You took every free chance to sit and joke with him
Your easy demeanor is medicine, patients responded
Images of rubble sifting shadow-faced citizens
Inescapable magnitude replayed, dream tethered
Impact we made upon fractured limbs and spirits
Told us each smile gained was worthy endeavour
I've speculated our distance pronounced our parallels
A far, foreign land artificially grew our new love found
Strongest logic shows me your benevolence plentiful
Desire stunned us, despite draped shapeless gowns
A year improvising in Gaza's limping hospice system
Threatened to take my buoyancy amongst its tragedy
Compassion you dealt exposed a myriad of wisdom
Guardians of burden bandaged turmoil's inched recovery
Excitement of moving in together, calm logic forgotten
Several short weeks after Gaza, shared goals discussed
A jubilant wedding, white gown without tie backed cotton
Box pile totems, future unpacked together, a time for us
17th August 2020
JCB Burl, Sponsor
Contest, 'A Time For Us'
I'm very happy I found this site,
PoetrySoup.com is a lot of fun,
I spend so much time on the computer now
I have time for no other one...
It's a rush, a blast, a challenge...
I'll love it till I die...
Only one thing troubles me,
And that's the reason why..
I spend so much time hunched over,
typing in my silly poems,
Hoping that they'll soon be read
In many far off homes...
But I do appear to have a problem...
A physical one at that...
My neck is hurting so severely,
By hours looking down,
writing and reading..
In the spot I sat...
I gotta make a judgement call...
Is the fun worth more than the pain?
Compared to the fun I have, the pain begins to pall
Who would not prefer the sunshine to the rain??
Dreams Of Her On Lonely Nights
My thoughts carried as in arrows swift flight
Each bad day, loneliness and misery;
More to come- dying sun gives wicked night,
long and sadder became desperate pleas.
Where once cherished fires burned brilliant glow,
Now treads shadow host of my vanities;
Lost heart stood aloof, cold as coldest snow
casting forth red-pain and profanities.
Not realized, plans of joy and future life
Nor again- moments of her sweet touch;
Yet held deepest, poems of our love, my wife
This world, I would give, to have again such.
In darkness, my soul in lost battle fights,
Images of her, in dreams on lonely nights.
R.J. Lindley,
April 21st, 1976
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 11 10 11 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 142
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 104
Note--Old sonnet, real bad time in my young life ..
So often we are made strong-- by the depth of the fires that burned us so severely.......