Best Showcased Poems
You give me the desire
a love for composing
word symphonies
yet you give me
the cross of mediocrity
to bear
day by day to know
there are others
who are prodigies
and I must hear
the thunderous applause
while at best
I get the praise
of those who seek to console
my dying soul
I must eat my heart alive
while the words burn inside
demanding expression
soul confession
unborn masterpiece extrication
I fall to my knees
and plead
While I beat my chest
in fervent heat
"Bless me...Bless me...
Make me like him
Make me like her
Make me more than all of these
Make me the best
a word genius
For this love of words will not set me free
Till it is MY name that they chant
My name on their tongues
My name branded on their minds
the Maestro of Word symphonies
Oh, Let it be ME, ME!
BLESS ME!"
Yet...
day after day
night after night
and in my dreams
I see, I see....
I see them take their bows
I see their work showcased
praised
immortalized
while I?
I sit at my desk
and try once more
to write
to...WRITE
the sublime....
Eileen
The movie Amadeus rocked my to the core. "In it, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was killed by his jealous rival, the court composer Antonio Salieri. Salieri cleverly took advantage of Mozart's fondness for drink, his financial crisis, and his obsession with pleasing his deceased father, and tricked Mozart into working himself to death."
Murry Abraham did a wonderful job of portraying Salieri. There is a scene where he argues with God about the wonderful musical talent he has gifted Mozart, who seems undeserving to him, while HE has to live with mediocrity in musical talent. I can relate. I LOVE poetry. It is my life, and yet...I have to watch as others write so effortlessly and reach the pinnacle of fame. It is hard to do. :( Some days are better than others. On the good days, I'm happy that I can write a poem now and again. On the bad days....I want to cry for not being another Shakespeare....or Donne, or Dickinson, or Gibran, or Rumi, or....and the list is endless.
Fae circles of mushrooms
Lanky yellow toadstools
Firm jelly tot larvae
Feed from rich stagnant pools.
Fungal disks cling with wanton
To the grey trunks of trees
Cricket strums join to bird song
Sending messages of peace.
Lambent beams break through foliage
Gradient tones tint the scene
Yellow, purple, and whites
showcased by backgrounds of green.
Fractured rock nests bright flora
Compost mats engage moss
A place of breach and survival.
Nature's gain, (one might say)
is the product of loss.
Coach Dad
It is a magic time when a child ventures
Into the world, spreading wings,
Beginning the oft painful process
of moving from the nest to the sky.
And it is a fragile time, where first experiences
Weigh heavily on shaping the direction
In which young life begins to move
And often whether it moves at all
It is a trying time, of fear and nervousness
One little step out on their own
The start of something bold and beautiful
The molding of a young child's eye
Much is made of parents and peers,
Oft unaddressed is the role of others
Teachers and coaches, a collective entity
Not dissimilar from fathers and mothers
The torch of responsibility being passed
If only for a brief moment
No more clinging to the safety and comfort
of what is already a norm and known
Encouragement or unkind words
So often a matter of chance and moods
Have mighty impacts on growing hearts
Precious opportunities to help a growing life
Young minds and hearts right on the surface
We remember our coaches, good and bad
Caring or not, patience or none,
The struggles, thin times and thick
A team of seven year olds
Is not unlike a litter of unruly puppies
How will they ever pay attention?
Give them a ball, a glove, and a game!
Pride, courage, athleticism, self-confidence
All showcased for the world to see
Taking turns and building bonds
Grasping much more than a newfound skill
If you can stand to be measured,
and fail by that measure, even repeatedly
But come back from it, you'll forever have
One more vital skill in life’s toolbox
One youngster will not win the game alone
But the team can, and its joy
Is multiplied many times over.
All these things and more can be taught.
Whether it be on the field or off
Teamwork, respect and camaraderie
Will forever be entrenched in the mind
Of a well instructed boy or girl
5/4/16
© Tom Quigley and Tim Smith
That slow and spectacular gait of a bride
Brimming as she is with nuptial pride
With grace and beauty each regal stride
as invitees whisper, 'here comes the bride'.
She for her big day so perfectly embellished
Her love-match said to be divinely predestined.
On their big day even the plain-faced, homely ones
turn into comely beauties
A magical day as it is, of rituals and formalities.
All the fuss and pomp, she almost feels like a queen
Her glamour thus showcased, with praise dön't be mean.
Attired in any hue, rose-red or even snow-white
She glows with an aura of pure holy sacred light.
Many overawed by the debut of her bridal charm
Yet, watch out O' newly weds for any evil eye's harm.
For the pinnacle of her womanly splendour and beauty
is now upon coveted passion's pedestal and apogee
She on stage now with only love's trophy and token
Just graduating from spinsterhood, to disappear the maiden!
As the center of attention, she turns into an actress
Her emotions under zoom lens, a bit easier to guess
For close-ups she knows she has to impress.
Some coy, some bashful, some hiding joy in the heart of hearts
With cameras clicking, drums beating, her new life starts
Of the charming flowers, summertime will bring-
there's one that looms tall- a stately king.
When in bloom, it stands apart-
captivates my heart!
Sunflower
unveils
its power.
Petals- flames of gold,
flare from center dark and bold.
Framed by landscape under sunny skies-
nature's work of art- showcased before my eyes.
June 25, 2019
~2nd Place~
Contest: Writing Challenge 2, June 2019-
A Summer Flower Poetry Contest'
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Judged: 07/07/2019
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Favorite Poem From June 2019 or July 2019
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Judged: 06/02/2020
I notice the single placemat within the circle of noise,
Placing my phone on the cluttered side plate,
I can feel the Christmas spirit resonating through,
The crowd of extended families unwrapping each other’s joy,
A tear drops onto my unused napkin,
My mind races with memories of family togetherness,
The phone reminds me of the unsent WhatsApp messages,
I spot the waiting team slalom through the chairs,
Out of the corner of my eye I notice a waiter offering me the red, white, or rose wine,
I must have blanked out for a quick second or two,
As for some reason I chose the red wine,
I’m not a big fan of red wine,
I notice something unexpected,
A noise behind my ear struck me subtly,
Hesitantly I turn towards the surprising situation,
“Would you like to join us?” A lady to my left asks alongside her children,
Tears flood my unconscious shirt,
“No-one should be on their own” another added “Join us!”
I graciously accept after they make the decision for me,
They share that they are from Lincoln,
As they collectively lift the small square towards their table,
I can’t believe the surge of care that I’m being shown by strangers,
Stories were poured as the red wine wrote the words to a great Christmas Lunch,
I laughed to many a tale about their previous Christmas trips,
Smiles simmer in this cauldron of enjoyment,
The red wine even produced miracles,
Overcooked beef became irrelevant in the cape of chuckles,
To be included in such a positive way, real and not in a forced manner,
Opening the door to showcase the missing piece on the mantle of Christmas,
I’m glad I chose to go down the stairs,
I felt a little overwhelmed by all the morning family togetherness being showcased,
But my faith in humanity has been restored,
As long as the flickering light within the hand of Christmas remains,
I will try my best to rise to most challenges,
As today a small gesture had a hugely heartwarming effect,
A large impact that will not fade in time.
She is quite the Mistress of the air, synchronize swimming where Eagles dare-stare, no need for landing batons or clearance, she has her own flare.
She wraiths the hapless night and the brilliance of day, rakes the sky, knowing her beauty laid, showcased on big screenery-
rewards God with a show bow and cloud kiss of why His All Knowingness plays, ~The Mistress (proud)
Yesterday, I went to an exhibit which showcased the native products of the place where I grew up. It was held at the entire fifth floor of one of the premier malls of the city where I now live. The place hummed with the welcoming sound of the region's familiar lilt, as I edged my way toward the kiosk to meet old friends.
leather and rhinestones
on abaca wallets and bags -
women at their prime
As I recognized each smiling face of former classmates from the all-girls school, the impersonal place turned into a warm, familiar one. Everybody knew everyone, at least in our group of twelve excited, chattering women eager to catch up on each other’s news. A late lunch after the show stretched into an even longer coffee at a nearby restaurant. We laughed as we recounted comedic classroom situations, times of mischief, and romantic trysts with old flames from the all-boys school across the street. The food was not particularly memorable. The moment was.
your face lights up
upon recognizing mine -
friendship survives time
We eventually broke into groups of threes or fours. My group, which included the batch Valedictorian, decided to continue our chat at another coffeeshop along the way. Each one shared personal angst, the latest in her career, and the familiar topic of loved ones. We parted around midnight, promising to keep in touch, a fitting end to a day which I will treasure for a long time. It was one of those breaks in my routine which I did not have to take, but I was happy I did.
in my journey
I saw a sign to stop -
time to smell the flowers
* abaca - hemp, material for bags, shoes, ropes, etc.
05 August 2015
For Scott37's HAIBUN
This haibun is adapted from my journal of a not so recent real event in my life.
Ancient and modern is this heartbeat
of a kingdom of four territories;
becoming the first biter to the endocarp of industrialization;
the first host to a global carnival of sports;
running the eldest of all notable department stores
and oldest without aging is one of its publishing houses.
A historic accumulator of colonies
with a spoken identity well pumped into different parts of the world
which has married diplomacy, economy and finance
to give global relevance to anyone who acquires it.
Even with this huge dominance,
Its initial lingua franca was
an adoption from its southern neighbor.
From Winchester to London, the route of its history is endless
Wwth the Lincoln cathedral the first overtaker
of the great pyramid of Gaza in an increasing participating race
and the first caster of the globe’s lifeless identity in Aluminium.
It’s a relentless consumer of Tea
having agents of law enforcement surprisingly not needing weapons
only but in situations of an adrenaline rush.
This defined region also has shoulders high above all others
in space and capacity showcased by Hay-on-Wye,
in dimensions and height, exhibited by Nature’s craft in Avebury,
in the size of a residence of royalty decorated in Windsor,
in numerical value of products traded in Harry ramsden
and a proud member of the starters’ club
in the creation of transportation mediums through rails.
The home of technology’s birth
and the courtyard where science is entertained
which is both less and greater than Thomas Harriot;
smiling when Christopher Merret and the Champagne
both got registered in history’s dairy.
The contribution of William Dockwra through stamps;
the excellence of Charles parsons shown in the stream turbine;
and the magic of Bletchley park
exhibited through the wonders of the colossus
are a fascinating fraction of a wing of its colourful feathers.
If these praises should spread online
The entire world of the internet has among others, Tim Berners to thank.
ODE TO PETROLEUM
I
In the past coal reigns without any challenges,
But now,the modern glory is petroleum-a toothful fact,
Found juxtapose with natural gas
Formed from dead remains of marine plants and animals,
Thick and viscous,dark and real~the black Gold
To be refined and distillated to perform better,
No matter your class,you cannot ignore him,
A source of power,power to move and glow,
which makes the economy to flow.
II
You are so unique,Many countries struggle to possess,
For your energy supply is immense,
Your selling price controls the world`s economy,
A wonderful dream for the Persian gulf,
Fuel is needed by the mighty to foster his strength,
Lose control and become toothless,
Nations rising against Nations to have a taste,
You are sweeter than honey,better than milk,
Ye!,A great relieve to man.
III
You gave birth to plasticos..,
which is classic-whether thermoset or thermoplast,
packaging is better,finishing is splendid,
anti-bacteria,anti-corrosive and heat-resistant,
putting smiles on the faces of many actors,
Engineers are elated and their skills showcased,
Imagine a universe without automobiles and plastics,I mean YOU!
...Alternatives are being sought but yet,None.
Petroleum the energy savior;Kudos to you.
I have her nineteen fifties' Trifari
fine costume jewelry, which I hold dear,
since my sweet mom bequeathed it all to me;
when worn or touched, I feel her presence near.
The ritzy, sparkling rhinestone matching sets
showcased in satin-lined, faux leather case,
were treasured as high fashion; no regrets
when given as a gift of style and grace.
And too, are pearls embedded in bright gold
with settings of such intricate design.
I love to look at them, to fondle, hold
these precious pieces treasured now as mine.
I wear my mother's gems from time to time
and feel her basking in the lovely glow
that once adorned her beauty in its prime
and graced her loveliness in stylish show.
So I devotedly take tender care
of these Trifari gifts passed on to me;
her treasures shine with special love we share,
safeguarded through her cherished jewelry.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Old Jewelry or Just Old Things
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 11/06/2016
Since the1920s, Trifari has been one of the most respected and admired producers of costume jewelry in the United States. Founded in the1910s by Gustavo Trifari, the Italian-immigrant son of a Napoli goldsmith, the company has designed jewelry that’s been worn by countless high-profile clients, from Mamie Eisenhower to Madonna. Trifari costume jewelry is highly collectible today.
Alphonse Mucha's art was so influential it helped create Art Nouveau.
A flamboyant sensuous style, with softness, swirls, curls and beauty.
It heralded and celebrated new art as a counterpoint
to the dawn of the harsh steel and smoke of the industrial revolution.
Inspiring the unique creations of architect Antoni Gaudí,
Sowing the seeds for another revolution in style - the Art Deco movement.
Mucha's style and grace in posters and art works truly showcased aesthetic vales
a flagrant appreciation of beauty, style and good taste.
It celebrated women, portrayed in flowing robes and curvaceous, poised with lush flowers in their hair.
There were halos, crescents, swirls and lots of flowers in the background.
The Art Nouveau movement embraced all forms of art and design
incorporating the swirls and curves of Mucha's paintings and posters including:
architecture, furniture, glassware, graphic design, jewelry, painting, pottery,
metalwork, textiles, advertisements, even appearing on Czechoslovakia's currency notes.
Alphonse Mucha's art and design are truly beautiful and inspirational.
The athletes marched in waving flags,
All decked in matching clothes.
In all of the Olympics,
That’s the way it always goes.
Some countries showcased dozens,
Others had but one or two
And two hundred thirty proudly
Wore our own red, white and blue.
As medals are awarded, though,
There’s one thing that’s for sure –
And that’s the fact that many nations
Will be medal-poor.
There are eighteen like Zimbabwe,
Paraguay and Mexico,
Who have just one single athlete
To compete in Sochi snow.
Still, they all looked thrilled and hopeful
As the games prepared to start;
Though they can’t all take home medals,
Getting there sets them apart.
Towering, organic orifice;
Spiring, glistening steeple
Wholesome, organic form;
Brokered, burnished symbol
Environmentally-conditioned
organism; Artificially-renovated
copse
Bland, earthy edifice; Bright,
glowing orb
Dull, lifeless timber; Vibrant,
veiled oracle
Shielded, sheltered ember;
Shiny, showcased beacon
Soaring, sylvan sentinel;
Stunted, cropped cinder
Cherished, nourished fodder;
Chosen, sanctified shroud
Pristine, woody carbine;
Refinished, domesticated
chalice
Having engaged in unlawful
Sexual intercourse
The hunter inflicted suffering
Upon my dissent.
Trained for rapid eye movement
He showcased with a violent temper
And in conversation
How it was for the purpose
Of my moral improvement
That in his chasuble
He designed to subdue me.
What an obscenity
To doubt the machinery
By which my chastity
Supports my collected bodies!
The gun carriage moved
Backwards and forwards.
The old world thrushes
chatted in "la Casula".
His discipline hastened
A yawning fissure.
The gorge that would
Breach the structure
Of our relations
With divergent opinions.
The chaser chassed in
Cheap chauvinism.
The change in this
Chattel's luster
Could be seen in a
Chatelaine's cat's eyes.
Apocopated celebrants
Gathered for the sacrifice
I could tell by the
Marked interruptions
Gapping the framework
Of our forlorn continuity.
It scared me so
That I was not trusted
To trust myself
Or my resultant suffix.
Castitas, intercourse
Or crying became informal.
I longed for the days
Before the chasm
When secured
In composed type
We were the receiving set
Of a mounting foundation.
Now an uninformed attendant,
A collection of various sections
I indulge in mild beverage
And still find no quenching
The deep cleft of my harmed surface.