Best Slight Poems
Genesis 1:27
God creates male and female
A Slight Improvement
All it took was one rib,
Adam wouldn’t miss it.
Look what he gained.
At first sight, he uttered
an ancient word the equivalent
of the modern, “Wow!”
From the best use of a rib
of all time, came a creature
capable of charm, seduction,
procreation, gentleness, envy,
love, virtue, loyalty, jealousy,
deceit, and an affinity for salt.
Though she came from man,
she seeks always to best him,
and considers herself superior
in every way. After all, she has
that extra rib.
First Appeared in Galaxy of Verse.
She comes to me on four small feet
which softly on my blankets tread.
So beautiful is she, so sweet;
she comes to me on four small feet,
then reaches out her paw to greet
me as I waken in my bed!
She comes to me on four small feet
which softly on my blankets tread.
Like silken midnight is her fur.
A black cat is my valentine.
It soothes me to be petting her!
Like silken midnight is her fur;
a dulcet lullabye's her purr!
This green eyed beauty is all mine.
Like silken midnight is her fur.
A black cat is my valentine.
Jan. 28, 2019 for Chantelle Anne Cooke's Midnight Valentine Poetry Contest
Darkness is my life that apears in
light.
Has it come to just another fix.
The smile does conceal my losing fight.
The music the screams within.
The lies eat away at the man I can no
longer stand.
Hollow is thy heart.
Crimson stains all that is never held in
hand.
It started a game now it's a curse.
In darkness I speak to you
all I could never say.
The man once known to you.
Has all but faded away.
And as I slip into adictions abyss.
Candle lit memories were taken
with the breeze.
That killed that romantic glow.
As the stranger who exists in the form
once you did love.
Twist's into a form you cannot understand.
I ask out of love for you to forget.
The monster that haunts this form.
In memories true love we will forever know.
The emptyness of of this life.
And the once splendid candle lights glow.
In truth we die.
As we live.
So must we cry.
Not every every question has a answer my friends.
Gonzo.
old man
retiring
with slight dementia
horny
with sturdy sled
and little to offer
looking for attractive
young female and/or male
with good body
compassionate
needing little
season greeting
send photo
off season
between
January and October
to Santa Claus
Saint Barts
Ouivre, ouivre,
my Ovus Star,
a bit premature
immortal,
for there we are.
Again, and again,
we do sojourn.
I am yes... so
terribly in love,
but a bit ironic.
Our path as one
harmoniously, plutonic.
There are many, many
foundations Elemental.
To you my Heiroglyphic Monad,
a bit John Dee, an Angel at the
Window.
If thee suffer, dire
agonies, a bit widowed.
Be a courageous summoner
of spirits, altruistic
virtuous.
A graceful tidbit
of gentle music,
in utero, a triad teaching,
Wolfgang Mozart, toi Asmodeus.
A whimsy fair-gypsy lady,
a mythological Magic Flute,
mine you yearn to play,
a malady.
A Hermetic philosophy
suggest a whee Feminist.
Duality Luna, luminary
A trois, virgin Diana,
suggest an Agrippa von
Nettesheim.
Le Mors, history past
Beelzebubian,
a' tres joli
Cherubian.
Attainability
cerebellum, cerebrum
vena sacrificulus,
parry only valerius,
Heroine erroneous.
Divination, divinity
hence, epicus Mortuus.
A fancy Miding Mallecho,
mysteriosis.
An Apparition
proclaiming amnesty,
apparthied.
Come once humanity,
come twice, Judaeus
Christio. Our souls
allied.
Furthermore, henceforeward
questioning Faith and its
epitome of Fable.
Through an act of man
to woman fine,
young, and able.
Sexuality in visionary
quest, Ceasarian
Tantrism.
A renounce all knowledge
flesh, "invisible mistresses,"
consummation "'isms'. . ."
my "Miss."
Divinitas tetigit
Excelso Anxietic.
Mysticus Dolor. . .
Heavenly angel Ovus,
as we soar.
A gayly expressive,
our Osirion knowledge
progressive.
An abundance exuberated,
serpent wisdomatic,
A co-union of spirit, momentarily
spurratic.
So, oui my love, romance
E plurubus scientific.
A yield, yours and mine,
Seraphic.
Transmutation, Aquarius y
Angelique, a beautiful devas
kingdom dynastique,
a new world of expressive
faerie.
Forevermore, forevermore. . .
A slight perchance merry!
No one ever knows for sure who they are and what they're supposed to be.
It is only by miraculous chance or coincidence a person finds their true calling.
As for the rest they struggle, through every aspect of life,
the average person fails over and over, fight after fight.
These struggles challenge our strength, time after time,
weaknesses always diminish if we ask for advice.
If the sun hides behind clouds, tomorrow it'll shine,
rain makes the grass grow greener on every side.
A person who breathes the same air as me should have the right,
to chose what's good for me or anyone else we all have our pride.
We all have a choice,
We all have a mind,
We all deserve reason,
We all reserve time.
The fact our country strides to control what you think,
decides what you watch, what you eat, and you drink.
Don't be afraid to have your own opinions,
It's them not me who's despicable for creating the minions,
An arrogant hare challenged a lethargic turtle to a race.
The hare ridiculed the turtle due to its lumbering pace.
"The loser", declared the hare " will be destined for the pot!"
The "hare"-brained turtle agreed knowing he didn't have a shot!
The turtle desperately tried to figure a way not to become the dupe,
And end his long and illustrious life as a repast of turtle soup!
They began the race and the hopping hare surged way ahead.
The ponderous turtle trailed behind with a growing sense of dread!
O'er the meadows and through the piney woods they raced.
The turtle could readily see that he was being outpaced!
"Fiddle faddle!" wheezed the hare "I'm gonna stop and take a nap!"
The turtle trundled steadily onward and quickly closed the gap!
When the hare awoke the turtle had crossed the finish line!
"Aha!" quoth the turtle, "it won't be me on which they dine!"
The bewildered hare was stewed and made a fine rarebit stew,
Making a tasty meal upon which the turtle could leisurely chew!
The moral of this tale is one that is echoed from the past:
"The last shall be first and the first shall be last!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Poet Destroyer's "Turtle Soup" Contest - August 2010
As rains and the torrentialest of snows plummet,
Filling all the skies and the area interstitial to earth and sky
With a frenzy of flying flakes;
As gusty winds doth blow and toss the flakes this way and that;
As torrents true amid the most rending species of gale
Dash themselves bitterly and self-destructively
Against this crude roof,
It is of my hodiernal solitariness,
My aloneness and lonesomeness,
My singleness, and plural,
Romantic stationariness that I must needs
And peradventure speak:
Yet, firstly, permit us all to sit still and our selves
Stationary, silent and still; and silence that intruding music
So ominous yet banal, tinny and slight:
Lighthearted 'tis it, as well:
That which plainly portends our overwhelming destruction,
And that of all our cogitation, cognition, concentration
And composition, with its overmuch resonant yet tinniest
Intrusiveness.
So allow to be it thus and summarily silenced-
Now, that's better.
A man can listen to himself think again;
He can form cognitive thought and appreciation thereof.
Therefor, that music silenced and my concentrative powers
Revived: As a blade at the whetstone, resharpened:
I can keep on with the prosody and poesy of my plight,
But...
Raindrops softly slide
Down across my window pane
Earth is cleansed again
Slight Little Twist
Some can say what they want with very few words.
And then there are those who do chirp like the birds.
Some have no problem leaving the hearer in doubt.
Then there is ME, who feels the need to talk it all out!
I have been told that I talk way, way too much.
I repeat what I say, like the parrot and such.
I don’t really know why I converse like I do.
No I don’t really know, NO, I don’t have clue!
I really do try to capture my bubble.
Then again it will pop, and again I’m in trouble!
Who can really know how our tiny brain works?
With one slight little twist we can all go berserk.
Finally my brethren, I think I’ll finish with this.
Good words are a blessing, sometimes silence is bliss!
Unifying Theories of Light
A waveform particle
Photon phantoms of packets
Indivisible
Oceanic cosmos dusts the material
Separates its contact
By the touch
Of the physical
Human sight by synaptic
Records sunrisen hue
Of tints painted brush strokes
Each brilliant parcel
In spectrum arches
Carries its message
Of choreographed stars
The gossamer veils of mirrors
Shine conduit
Sprinkle fireflies of chaotic
Fractal scenic
Feeding the living
Intensities
Traverses faster and faster
Milliseconds
Blinking awakenings
Consciousness
And associated by love
Transforms appreciations moment
To glory
Flaming banters to star burst
Of darkness
In Universal centres
Lights ricochet of absorption
Reflects outlined form
In an Aura of dancing frequencies
Coordinates
Proliferates
Permeates
Creates
The iconography
Of
You
And
Me
In Eternity
Edges defined by glittering
The swirls and eddies
Of straight line caught rainbows
All washes through the seen
Unseen
Seeded
Spaces
Between
The constant
Torch light of awareness
In a never ending moment
Of proclamation
This finite and infinite sea
Forms open Albedo
Defining its cache
In every individuality
Of every thought
And every conceptions colour artistic
Blade of grass
Petal rain fall
Impenetrable diamond
Refracted forests
Of dancing shadows
Of solar passions
The closest tactile
Expression
Of life
Of
Divinity
Light
Unity
what news o' wandering voyager-
do ye bring this earthly home
what knowledge new uncovered
amid the glinting stars alone
what ancient lore yet unexplored
in fields of soaring stone
what secrets fair lie in thy care
that to man remains unknown
and what of Jove and all his kin
so distant and forlorn
are they merely sleeping all
and wait to be reborn
and with the great Orion
did ye hold communique
fierce hunter of the universe
so very far away
did he then relate to thee
or show ye that which no one sees
'twould ease the mind to know the truth
of lifes sweet mysteries
no icy chill would death instill
if truly it were known
when life is gone the soul lives on
beyond this flesh and bone
what news o' wandering voyager-
do ye bring to bear
of advent or of covenant
in which mortals never share
and yet i do not envy thee
this i freely must confess
no mortal pure could long endure
that endless emptiness
not prince nor king of Avalon
would ever climb that stair
none but God alone has tread
that astral thoroughfare
what news o' wandering voyager-
do ye send from out the void
what strange wayfarers found ye there
among the errant asteroid
though long ago thy fiery steed
did bear thee far away
what shall we learn on thy return
if ever comes the day
what sign or sense will guide thee hence
unto old familiar skies
though countless stars around ye mill
and cosmic winds blow hard and shrill
will ye then remember still-
which way sweet arda lies.
I sense it is impossible to rhyme
in this journey and that even
with a poem searching for words
something is lost
Is it found in the breath
slowly with the slightest force
should we name it the Force
or is it a lightness that joins
with the smallest molecules
atoms is that what I am
and you and the us
anything else if false is dust
am I trying to form something that
cannot be formed or is the Form
something we cannot know
with its infinite reach
A form that is what the
Universe is and we are of
that form, briefly solid but unending
I feel at times a cold heaviness
in my chest and I am frightened
But if I inhale and see the stars
in the silence for that instance
forever seems real and unending
and a Force that we experience
as we search even pray for
as we try to define ourselves
and the Infinite that is forever
Slight
Catching head with both hands
A pedestrian was on footpath
Near, in a mound of sand,
Slept dog’s slight was
Care free it was no tension alive
A running car dispersed mud
In its head and tail drops so far
Pedestrian cast an eye and passed
A crow sat and cawed in belly
May be it was complaining
Inhuman behave of road
A class a failure of broadcast
Before onlooker could trace
The wheel past unwittingly
Poor sleeper could not rest
Even in open air of earth.
A message of slight duty
A care for helpless to save
Denizen should be attentive
Whether his eyes if on drive.
A mere care of towards
Are wheels on right track?
Not bothering walkers on
In vain grinding teeth towards.
ice skating was not his dear wife’s forte,
so he bought her membership for birthday,
she started with a skid and fall,
view of her crotch was free for all,
“ dear”, said he, “if you need nickers, please just say!”
10,10,8,8,10 limerick with rhyme of 1,2,5 line
and 3,4th line!
2nd placement
Sponsor Tania Kitchin
Written 28/12/2020