Best Shoring Poems
Twenty-five ©
25 seconds: the time it
takes to fall in love….
25 minutes: into rehearsal
we have our first kiss….
25 hours: I am dreaming of
you….
25 days: I know it is just the
beginning….
25 weeks: we are having
“make up” sex….
25 months: stranded in
Tucson, I’m sling’in hash
and you.re ropin’ steers….
25 years: Best friends, still in
love, comfortable in our
own skins, at ease and
amused by each other’s
quirks.…
….shoring up each other’s
desires, choices, and
judgments, good or bad….
sustaining each other no
matter what…
loving each other no
matter why!
from book of poetry 'Butterflies and Bullets' available on Amazon
Twenty-five
25 seconds: the time it
takes to fall in love….
25 minutes: into rehearsal
we have our first kiss….
25 hours: I am dreaming of
you….
25 days: I know it is just the
beginning….
25 weeks: we are having
“make up” sex….
25 months: stranded in
Tucson, I’m sling’in hash
and you.re ropin’ steers….
25 years: Best friends, still in
love, comfortable in our
own skins, at ease and
amused by each other’s
quirks.…
….shoring up each other’s
desires, choices, and
judgments, good or bad….
sustaining each other no
matter what…
loving each other no
matter why!
Trisha Sugarek
Butterflies and Bullets
IF YOU THINK YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE…
“A quiet and modest life,” says he in German, the most successful of them/us all, “brings more joy than a pursuit of success bound with constant unrest.”
Albert Einstein’s hand-written tip to a courier at the Imperial Hotel
Tokyo, November 1922
If you think you’re the only one to record the way the world’s run
Know that every top’s naked spun when the wrapped string’s outrun
Everyone’s in such a hurry to step out of this collapsing quandary
Even if the one and only query is left without comforting certainty
Everybody wants a piece of posterity to be part of everlasting history
Even at the cost of mimicry if only to keep shoring up sheer vanity
Fire burns out in an empty shell the way the poem slim content quell
Who reads for meaning to feel well means to read more feeling swell
Roads lead to where one wants to go, lines come to an end in vertigo
To each ego own voice sounds best, who renounces the will but hobo
Tell this to a Cervantes five years in quarries after the Battle of Lepanto
Confront Dostoeyeski with firing squad again after four years in Siberia
Tear Theo from Van Gogh’s bosom after Gauguin’s bullish loud hysteria
Tease Mozart in his deathbed with the sleepless scores of his concerto
There’s no quiet in a modest life for billions will step eager on your face
Our world honours the sham strong the phoney the fake the half-baked
The weak work all day not to crave success but to fend off all disgrace
No true mother harassed by rape abandons the baby for rapists’ sake
Success is always drenched in sweat except for those fils de Putes
Who inherited the earth long before the oldest profession followed suit
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
The gilded flower grows astride the spring,
sweet with rain from the demise of the ice.
For every inch that hope grows, greed grows twice.
Intoxicated by the thrill, they sing,
And pay without thought for their wedding ring.
Such opportunity seen, as cold melts.
Ambitions reborn and lines spelt,
to put claims for oneself over everything.
My bones still ache from winter's cold embrace,
And I see her coming afar through time.
I know that future times will chill my face,
and see wisdom in shoring up the brace.
What luck that no men wish to save a dime!
So now I sell, tomorrow, win the race.
Written for "Petrarchan Sonnet" contest, sponsored by Craig Cornish
It was never meant to last.
You warned me that you'd trip. A relationship,
like a house, cannot stand when built on a foundation of sand.
Ours was sinking fast.
I didn't mind the continual shoring
but you didn't lift a finger. You linger,
in your past mistakes while the ground around us quakes.
Our ship broke loose from the mooring.
Crumbled around us, it all fell.
Torn apart, so I walked away on that devastating day.
What good are regrets? If I were making bets
I'd wager the past is where you still dwell.
Little jewels of inspiration are strewn all around us if we look for them. By Poet
I won't fade before sunrise.
may sprouts of affection sigh
I will never close my eyes,
from the turtle dove's tears dry.
Strewn on the sandy beach floor
I'm willing to face what strike
needless for the shoring boor,
although they are still in spike.
I aim to face the sun's rays,
may the blooms be dwell and well?
I'm not running from my ways,
from tears of concealed jewel.
I'll be set free when dawn blew,
let us swing near to our hopes.
No more harm inside of you!
Such awe would deploy pearl ropes.
A gem is not quite a stone,
unless it glows from the core.
A soul can apply some shone,
on auld rocks and call them ore.
5TH PLACE CONTEST WINNER
Checked by HMS.COM
Written: March 18, 2022
Form J - Just Write Me a New Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Limericks dé-crochetés: Is not shame self-humiliation
Is not shame self-humiliation
To be thought of with condescension
All men know some disgrace
Except those without grace
Dignity’s the art of pretension
The man who fears not leaving this world
E’en without heir his name can fame mould
Knows no shame brought by birth
All’s forgiven in mirth
Though what lies ahead mayn’t rightly be told
Memory’s a wild accusing thing
It best serves those who here nothing bring
Nothing take on way out
Nothing leave to shout ‘bout
What one forgets might well be no-thing
Think of all the pain one puts up with
Just for the sake of the ego myth
To be thought of well - swell
Hail fellow well met - hell !
Who e’er lived to de-mystify death
Shame’s the pain we face in hour of need
Stand alone you’ll likely go to seed
Join the crowd to feel proud
The name well-clothed in shroud
All the shame humiliation must feed
End of day finds us shoring up shame
Orchestrated scenes of death-bed fame
Funerals in black staid
Write-ups by friends well-paid
All to keep shame hidden in the name
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Warrior Wombs
(for Sandy and the loss of our first grandson)
By Joyce Teed
2/8/17
Warrior Wombs
Every woman
Has an untold story
A secret
Untold
Or unseen
Her story
Includes
Silent sorrows
Wounds with no words
Winding through the untold
History of all women
Empty wombs
Miscarriages
Mistimed pregnancies
Unwanted babies
Wanted babies
wished for babies
babies without a heartbeat
Nature’s
way
Of weeding out
The mistakes
A blessing perhaps
Women wear
these truths of nature
Doubting themselves
Shoring themselves up
Alone
Reminding us
Of the tenuousness of life
And the
Tender disappointments
Awaiting us around each curve of life
Bodily hazards
And then there is our hearts
Breaking
For our loss
Yet shoring up to bring in another life
Or not
We all don’t get the same luck
Or burden
But together we stand
Sisters in sorrow
Crying for the unborn
Unspoken lives
That we have all
welcomed and mourned.
Tough love
Was never harder
And now
Some righteous men demand
A funeral for a fetus
As if that would heal the wound
As if it would not punish more harshly
And more publically
Our hurts
Our disappointments
Our wounds
We know how to heal ourselves.
We embrace our loses
We never forget
We empathize with other sisters’
Conditions
We do not judge
We stand together
And wail.
In the puddles of our loving, tender life
There goes a dynamic of going along
Path exciting but some tears are made from strife
Which creates shallow puddles within the throng
Outside looking in, the heart beats of great love
Shoring up a delight, just like a white dove
Reflections of love lies within the puddle
This water is clear and sure doesn’t muddle
Entrant into Gail Angel Doyle's " Reflections of Love" contest
3/1/2013
A pristine, hidden stone
Lying in a crevice all it's own
No coroding wind, human hand to bemoan
Virgin beauty to a pilfering world unshown
Steely mason's hand o'er rocky divide did skim
Extracting rocks at a sculptor's whim
Purloined quarry removed with shearing shade, shoring shim
Forthwith, bartered nature; bridled pilgrim
In artisan's shop fodder to shape to trim
It's ruddy face chiseled, cut around each rim
Rough surface sanded yielding a polished diadem
Once jaded stone translated into comely artifact so prim
Laying down without
you, never. Understand
what you did to not
make me love you. Baby
why did you leave me
like this. You took away
something special you
took a piece of my heart
and turned it in to ash.
Nobody though that it
would happen, nobody
thought that you
weren't on my side. But
when I close my eyes I
see you surrounded. By
stars.
You broke my heart
once your not going to
break it again. You said
its going to last forever.
But that was the end. I
guess you've gone away
forever never going to
come back.
Nobody thought that it
would happen. Nobody
thought you weren't on
my side but when I
close my eyes I see you
surrounded By stars
I thought you where a
shoring star. A dream
when I'm no sleeping. A
wish upon genies lamp
that just came true.
But even I can tell
genies arnt for real
shooting stars are just
for seeking and dreams
are lent for sleeping.
Nobody thought that it
would happen. Nobody
thought you weren't on
my side but when I
close my eyes I see you
surrounded. By stars
Republicans Up for Reelection
Will they wheedle out
Always try to twist and shout
Leave us with much doubt.
Familiar does sound
Republicans all around
Where will they be bound?
We could all care less
Someone will straighten out mess
And can remove stress.
Up started shoring
Think it will be with Warren
Now are adoring.
There hast to be a few chuckles
left out there somewhere.
Jim Horn
Trump Started Shoring
Up his buildings Trump started shoring
So when he was asleep and loudly snoring
Walls would not fall in and collapse
And not only that become death traps
Next to them boats people are mooring.
Jim Horn
~ and though reeling ~
~ amid the hour ~
~ of my dolor, I ~
~ still could not ~
~ concur with ~
~ those who ~
~ say "Passion ~
~~ is all together ~~
~ fruitless", because ~
~ mindful of this I know ~
~~~~ the acrimonious of ~~~~
~~~ heart always become the ~~~
~~ marionette of their abhorrence, ~~
and incertitude, as do the passionate
in their yielding to this certain way of
blamelessness and overt position of
~~~~~~~~~~ promise. ~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So I say if it were not for Grace
time would furthermore offend,
but for sheer delight the days
each one run on to the next
while illustrious visions of
the divine they fill each
moment, when I begin
to look for the lowly
reflection of loves
tender purveyance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Furthering my resolve ...
and shoring up moreover this
truth, advancing the conscious
desire of Gods encouragement
for me, existent in the way of
this ever wholesome movement
and time of my transcendence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As its validity moves me in my
weary soul deeper and deeper ...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~ within. ~~~~~~~~~~~~
A man had two horses, each a fine stallion, both buddies and good friends. It so happened, one of them lost eyesight in an accident. For the safety of the blind horse, the owner fixed some copper bells on the neck of the other horse. The blind horse would then follow the one with good eyesight, who would keep a kindly eye on the blind one. The blind one would keep its ears hooked on to the other. A rare friendship of the two horses, that of the eyes and ears. By evening they would return home safe after daylong grazing. One followed the sound, the other sight, both looking after the other.
Does not Existence look after us in the same way? Its immense compassion helps sustain humanity…. with no mean help from some sense of brotherhood among us, of course.
___________________________________
The thinking head shoring up kindly heart,
The rich on their part parting wealth in part,
On mutual help moves on Existence cart.
Behind the frightened and never so few,
Weapons of brave shine with buttressing hue,
And Existence blesses from unknown blue.
Behind heavenly hearts gears up the grave,
Two sides of coin as if each to each crave,
Existence’s onward journey to pave!
For lifelong one looks after the other,
Life’s scorching sun together to weather,
Mother to offspring, brother to brother!
To the way-lost in this life’s long journey,
Holding hands in care, to accompany,
Share whatso meagre food with the hungry.
Life’s a journey together in a boat,
In deep river, or dour sea set afloat,
And Existence renders a warm fur coat.
It lets an anchor, a needle to north,
Lets mankind to reach to its highest worth,
And so-how Existence moves on and forth.
Or else, what good is one’s kissing the crest?
Man moves forward, mighty heave to highest,
Humanity whilst falls more than modest.
______________________________________
Introspection |04.01.2022|