Best Sieves Poems


Rhythmic Perfection (Anapestic Trimeter)

There's a river that twists in the mind
that I plunder and ravish with sieves,
on crusades to the summit of rhyme
where my Phoenix of tropes and schemes live.

In a war to free diction's fair Queen
where the Soldiers of Babel bemuse
and the modern day graceless regimes
are in battles to stifle my muse!

In my quest for her verse of prestige
I have traveled a nexus of words
with this Lexis of language on siege;
where the dissonant hum drum is heard!

Oh, the poise of my bayonet firm
as I pin down my thoughts in a rush!
Oh, the will of the language it squirms
as her essence of glory I brush!

She's the Queen Muse that whispers within
as she watches me battle with style,
she supplies me the yarn that I spin
as she lends me her rhythm awhile.

It's the moment her Highness is freed
that the Armies of Dissonance fall
and the sound of Perfection can bleed
in those lyrical sounds that enthrall!
Categories: sieves, imagination, on writing and
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Komorebi

The canopy of leaves
                              sieves the morning sunlight into beams
                                  as if from an opaque, porous sky,
                            laying bright polka dots on the forest floor.

                   The hiker slaloms around the shafts of light as he goes, 
                                   crosses an imaginary finish line, 
                                     arms raised in mock triumph, 
                          unaware he has finished last behind a field of 
                                  resident elves, gnomes and fairies 
                                              racing him unseen.


                           [“Komorebi” is a Japanese word meaning the 
                                 sunlight filtering through tree leaves.]
Categories: sieves, earth, light, magic, morning,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member In Whispering Mists, Dying Gods There Grieve

In Whispering Mists, Dying Gods There Grieve

Within Shadows casting forth in blackened glow,
secret havens hide in heaps of aged dust,
there beastly beasts born and wickedly grow
far beneath a granite hardened evil crust.

Within corridors in ancient temples Time waits
for the golden winds of Loves renewed trust
sealed up fast and tight, their heavy gates,
holding back those deaths found to be unjust.

In whispering mists, dying Gods there grieve
there time now sadly wasted and ill spent
sifting Love's gems through golden sieves,
they see far too late, what human Life truly meant.

What of legendary Gods, did such beings ever exist
oft descending to earth to wreck havoc there
or in Hades pits cast all, their divine powers did resist,
the glories of faithful worship they deemed fair.

Within Shadows casting forth in blackened glow,
secret havens hide in heaps of aged dust,
there beastly beasts born and wickedly grow
far beneath a granite hardened evil crust.

Robert J. Lindley, 8-08-2018
Rhyme, ( Of Dead Gods, Evil beasts And Man's Folly)

Note:
Categories: sieves, dark, death, deep, fate,
Form: Rhyme

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member On Not Being You-- Dueling Senryus

Keep quiet, be nice.
            Do not love, be cold as ice.
            Alas, spineless mice!

            Just one life to live.
            Light poems that drip like old sieves?
            Meaningless missives!

            

                       3/3/2021
                         ~2~
Categories: sieves, courage, perspective, poetry,
Form: Senryu

The Gift Of Muse And The Grace To Inspire


If I have to poetry see and define 
My words would shrink and stop to ink
My thoughts would be unable to align 
And in confusion I would rather sink..

Visions in words would learn how to speak 
Words marvellously moulded by a wordsmith 
Far reaching charm a poet would constantly seek
Unique gems adeptly crafted by a goldsmith..

It’s the power to paint and portray
Compose a tune.. an ambient so rare
An art gallery, a rich tapestry to display 
Masters of words of sublime flair..

Much more.. the magic of poetry
The soul of verse can one acquire?
Abc’s and rules.. suffice to pen poesy!
Who grants the gift of Muse and the grace to inspire?

On the mystery of poetry I still ponder
Poets and their feeding Muse hearts impress
Their path of no sand or end would wander
What is predictable willing to transgress..

Fill your glossaries beyond lands and seas
Empty the wealth of your mine into sieves 
Precious pearls of rare beauty you receive 
Stir souls while telling stories before you leave..
Categories: sieves, inspiration, literature, magic, poems,
Form: Rhyme

State of Fate

Through the faded door of never mind.
Couldn't find the button to rewind.
A lost cause that was left behind.
Two stars that just never aligned.

The what if's stayed where no one looked.
One little taste and then you're hooked.
The pot was boiling but nothing cooked.
Turn off the burner, room's been rebooked.

You walk the aisles browsing the styles.
And then check out as love beguiles.
Succumbing  from her gentle wiles.
As you wonder if love reconciles.

The past caught up too late to matter.
There's no one left pitching the batter.
The game's been canceled on account of chatter.
The rules only count for the mad hatter.

I'm going home where no one lives.  
I do what I want, no one forgives.
As the meaning wanes with derivatives'.
When the walls and the ceiling leak like sieves.

The past is still calling, the present is stalling.
Tomorrow's creeping, but barely crawling.
Till love come's again to find you falling.
And chances of hope don't end up appalling.
Categories: sieves, assonance,
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member The Bells of Saint Mary's

~Bells of Saint Mary's~

Oh, the joy of being young!
When those phenomenal bells
so joyfully rung!
And I, in patent leather Mary
Janes,
Ate Tootsie Rolls as if in a now
forgotten dream.
Staring at the mosaic, stunning
tall window panes.

How we loved playing games so
divinely innocent!
But now, by His Majesty, 
"Political Correctness",
To the bin of "Forbidden" have
all been sent.

Do I think the world is better
today?
Not from me, will you ever hear
a boisterous, "Hurray!"
Most joyfully we buried God and 
His commands.
Instead, we fall on our knees to 
adore sparrows and men?

We cheer for all manner of
witchcraft!
As to how to live, besieged 
online like moral sieves.
Not realizing it is we destroying
this world, with godless incantations.


This demon's footprints show
up in our poetry, alas!
When we adore the most foolish
things.
As for us, no time for the Creator
do we have.
And in our Poetry, we are careful
of His name, not to sing.

Some do not know this world
has an end date, just as we.
They think there is no Judgement
Day coming!
So they worry about things they
cannot control!
When it is  their very soul at stake.

We are free spirits who deride
any God connection,
Most don't want it, as they 
made themselves gods.
The mirror and their works,
their morality, is never in
question.
They have with pomposity 
Hung God out to dry.
And honor only a moon and the
twinkling sky?

I'd love to hear the Bells of 
Saint Mary's again.
When God s words were valued
far more.
Than those that come from my 
mere mortal poet's pen!

August 24, 2019
Categories: sieves, deep, god, longing, poets,
Form:

It Is What It Is

11/28/16


Thrive survive and live

It is what it is
A day of nothing or success using sieves
Carbonation in the soda pop making it fizz
Distinguished areas for hers and his
Individuals involved or infatuated with the showbiz
Don't get in a tizz


Some just take and or give

The planet spins
Life with cartilage and fins swims
Strikes, splits and gutterballs in lanes with bowling pins
Rooms for rent available at inns
Breath mints in tins
Boys and girls occasionally born as twins
Music made with all instruments even violins
Sports and games played with javelins
At church they'll sing hymns
Sometimes you'll need a membership to certain gyms


Whole milk, soy and skim
Going out on a limb
And off a whim
You either lose draw or win
Even if it's only by a smidge
Another opportunity and day begins
Going from light to dim
Above and below the ridge
On either side of the bridge


Help out your kin
Especially when times are grim


Low to high bids
Placed on items
Waters fished for nearly everything, including squid
Due to road conditions, speed and a loss of control, the car slid
Around the corner and the tires started to skid

Recently or way back when
People have disappeared off the grid


No idea all that you or I have did
And the same could be said for where we've been

By: Dalton Ogletree
Categories: sieves, poetry, rap, word play,
Form: Rhyme

The Brightest Star

THE BRIGHTEST STAR

To view the brightest violent star, 
that glints and glitters from it's scar.  
It's life is burning, blurred and far, 
we cannot know, just where they are. 

The brightest star takes breath and lives, 
in sparks and flares, it dusts through sieves. 
From a faint galaxy home, it gives, 
a joy and bliss, it winks and lives.

Delightful in which one contemplates, 
It is our neighbor that winks and waits. 
Away our breath it reels and takes,
and puzzles us with the home it makes. 

Refracted, Diffracted, Inflected light, 
splayed from slight of eye to sight of site.
Tucked in berth, by birth, to be in flight, 
Camouflaged the brightest star in white.

Edlynn Nau
© February 12, 2016
© Edlynn Nau  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: sieves, birth, creation, education, star,
Form: Rhyme

This Twinning Set

this twinning set,
of urchin's smile reflected,
by stale fathers turned to murk,
knapping flint saturated by eons,
gripped saltwise in bitter steel neglected,
     high voices cry "banal!" and flow red tears,
     weeping while maxims roar,
     at last this abattoir's necessary cut,

eyes rimming rise,
along dross to swirling bones,
as banners once crowned a shining wall,
tattered now on midden in lonely heaps,
crumbled in sieves by millennial crones,
     turnspit dogs with hanging tongues,
     forward marching back again,
     pounding the echoes,

now, polymeric brains,
studied to exalt virtual reasons,
longing to challenge abstract perfection,
as those doomed anguish in tidy archives,
wincing at rhythms of civilian seasons,
     nock the future, quiver the past,
     into a terrorist leaks a tale,
     while a nation rots through a soldier.
Categories: sieves, anxiety, future,
Form: Rhyme

In Deciphering Body Signals

a blind eye sieves
    Lie's cloak 
   
        c 
          l a r
              i
             t y
Categories: sieves, humor,
Form: Haiku

Footprints On Sand

Time passing along, memories of days grand
However hard I try to grip, it sieves through my hand
Through crevices between my fingers that once formed a fist
What exists today is bitter sadness; my life's gist

Once upon a time I was blessed, with tears more of joy than pain
When life was blissful and normal, I had happiness to gain
Now all that's left is a shell, with thoughts of seasons gone by
My loved ones have turned their back on me, and all I can do is cry

Where did I go wrong, did I love too much
Did I expect beyond reason, pressurize and such
Or was I stupid to believe, that good beckons good
And trusted everyone around, while they dug the ground on which I stood

It is now the dusk of my life, and the skies turn red
I try to see goodness in my world, before I am dead
But what I see are remnants of a broken relationship's band
And I slowly fade away, like footprints on sand
Categories: sieves, life, relationship,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Science and Religion

Science and Religion 

Some ask, “Why do you waste your time on religious matters?
When it’s obvious, science is the answer.”
After countless hours, I realize the theories
Are like sieves and will not hold water.
I do not blame the scientists, who attempt to explain
The universe logically or the evolution of life
With evidence gathered.
It is these so called ‘Intelligentsia’ who distort the facts
With fabrications, and then propagate the lies to replace the truth.
This suits their narrative, the fools!
Science is rational, armed with data to analyze existence,
Whereas, religion quenches the souls of human beings.
   I, too, want my name in a history book,
   But not as an idiot.
Categories: sieves, irony, meaningful, parody, perspective,
Form: Verse

Whisper

come dream the moonlit night,
light enchanting softly,
belfry tolls time between,
so keen the heart awakes,
forsakes its own calling,
falling for sirens, still,
      she whispers to my soul,
bed, no solace gives,
sieves of time and soul,
coal, never to be gem,
hem me in with your soot,
put value underground,
not a sound survives, yet,
      she whispers to my soul,
fettered, all but spirit,
tear writ confessions speak,
weak, too little too late,
hate all that I’ve become,
now numb sense not to feel,
kneel before You, rent, while
      she whispers to me soul,
prone to this walking death,
breathe of life be my guide,
wide eventide's wings spread,
wed harmony with might,
light reflected so fair,
"wear your love with grace", this
      she whispers to my soul
© Luke Hobbs  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: sieves, life, muse, night, repetition,
Form: Free verse

Nice Try, Gundagai

A bloke who hails 
from New South Wales 
will know of Gundagai. 
Some guy found gold, 
or so we're told, 
in days now long gone by. 

I grew up there 
without a care 
when both of us were nippers: 
she was my mate - 
her name was Kate - 
I used to call her "Kipper". 

We loved to lark 
around Yarn Park, 
and sing Frank Ifield songs, 
play hide-and-seek 
on Morley's Creek 
all golden summer long. 

I'd glance at Kip 
(she fielded slip) 
and try to hoist one high: 
but quick as thought 
she'd yell out, "Caught!" 
or "Nice try, Gundagai!" 

Her brain was quick, 
her wit was slick, 
and ready with a joke. 
She'd bat and bowl 
and kick field goals 
as good as any bloke. 

Well, time moved on. 
Those days are gone, 
and never to return. 
I've roamed this earth, 
for what it's worth, 
and one thing I have learned. 

In this wide world 
there's heaps of girls, 
and some of 'em are ripper, 
and dark or fair, 
I've had my share, 
but none of 'em's like Kipper. 

I'm not that grand 
with pen in hand, 
but I've written Kip a letter: 
I may be wrong, 
it's been so long. 
She may not even get 'er. 

So now you know 
the way it goes. 
You've heard my tale unfold. 
I'm like those fools 
with sieves and mules, 
hell bent on striking gold. 

I'm a chafing chook 
on tenterhooks, 
awaiting her reply. 
I know my Kip - 
she's sure to quip, 
"Oh, nice try, Gundagai!"
Categories: sieves, romantic,
Form: Rhyme
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