Best Sorts Poems
A wandering heathen
compelled to wander and wonder,
clinging to the subjective notions
and half-baked personal philosophies
that evolve with each new day
and whisper with each pale night.
Away from the Kingdom Hall,
past temples more austere
and churchyards more severe
and cemeteries filled with believers.
Away from the witch
and away from the doctor
and past the feckless witchdoctor,
casually to the throng of the witless,
clinging to the odd concoction
of odd concoctions.
Wan hoodoo drags the bones,
no voodoo holds the dust.
4th April 2019
The wind rose early with the busying dawn,
And, rushing into the long avenue of beech -
Laid down years ago to accommodate labouring feet,
Began to scatter over neatly cut verge and lawns
With its own inimitable unruly gust, blow and fuss...
Within a cascading maelstrom of vivid bright yellowness.
Against strong trunks, held firm by steadfast roots,
Groans from creaking boughs as they upwardly heaved
Upon frantically thrashing branches showering
rusted, golden leaves;
Carpeting the rough stones below my trampling boots.
A mad kaleidoscope of leaping, swirling, skipping
colour
Where, as a child, I had once rediscovered...
Two green sandstone gate pillars sat well back
That ushered me under this arched, canopied track.
marry me
because i'd like to wake up
in OUR bed
i'd like to go to OUR church
in OUR car
i'd like to celebrate with OUR
children all the special days
of the year
and i'd like to have OUR aniversary
here i am with everything i own
that i would like to be OURS
in a house, in a heart
in a hopefull future
but the only thing missing
is a past and words like
we, us and them
i don't want to suffice with
just being him
This self evident truth that all men are created equal ?
Never quite able as to escape these questions which arrive
Time's comical in ludicrous exposes: today as yesterday imagining
Her high courts turning unto a constitution defining something or another....
Ever evolving his living breathing documents cross fire spatial skies skeleton keys rogue
Renegades watermark tinsel town, treason from their graves these founding fathers proclaim
Antartic circles western worlds mediums her causeway's english channel I see dead people a baby's
Sixth sense the headless horseman thirty shekels of silver his broken bell premonition sheol's starveling
Shepherd spyglass mechants totem pole slave ship shackles spindrift spinsters who framed this, your amendments.
ethereal mist surrounds my soul
light in the distance is soft music.
whispers say,
"There is no danger"
an orchid grows in the mist,
the midst
fear not the light of your soul
you may grow in its presence
if you will allow us to flourish.
Vulnerability is a gift if taken as so.
break free
Poetry and people, a happy mixture of all sorts
Overcoming language and grammar so
Entertaining all with their riveting writes
Teaching and learning with each poem as we go
Richness in friendship, camaraderie in bloom
Yields our efforts for commenting read
Soupers endeavour to grace their page
Outstanding poems, sometimes plant a seed
Uncanny material in portfolio's glow
Poetry Soup is the place, to watch us poets grow
Valentine’s Day Poem
Never knew what to do
With the roses he brought me,
After the red had rotted
And soothing scent had slipped.
So I leave them,
Weeping, Wilting,
In a coffin vase
By my window,
As I dream
About dandelion weeds
Swimming in a field of green,
Free.
A Poem of Sorts
I am wrapped inside your warm embrace of words…
Laughter and happiness resonate in my soul…
Finding peace in your elegant letters has become an obsession…
Held captive by your insight…
I cannot tear my eyes away from the depth of knowledge you bear…
I feel out of sorts and don’t lie
When I say that I can’t explain why,
Or rather I could
But nobody would
Make sense of it, though they might try.
I have some decisions to make,
Though nothing important’s at stake.
Yet, still I am stuck
And not having much luck;
Fear of change is a trait I can’t shake.
Such an anxiousness often conceals
Other issues, although it reveals
Things I cannot express
That are causing me stress;
Lots of people know just how that feels.
A world of beauty of all sorts
is the little globe we live in
See a smile glow above your chin
You saw a great display in sports
Variety is what makes us
a world of beauty of all sorts
And putting aside all our buts
brings out the best in all of us
Recall that article you read
That leader who exuded guts
A world of beauty of all sorts
was indeed weaved by nature’s thread
Of gifts and talents, lots and lots
we witness and wonder in awe
Playing our part, we won’t make sore
a world of beauty of all sorts
Wife: when I met her first, she was a dream
me: she said if rich we could be a team
father-in law: looked like would die next day
me- he gave consent if I mend my way
mother in law: love her don’t get me wrong
me:without her, marriage would be a song
brother- in law: walked with Eastwood hat
me: I could quickly see he was a tw*t
Sister-in-law: young pretty in her vest
me: If I had wed her would have been best
All: So this life is full of luckless fate,
me:if you are planning wedding- please wait!!
love: If you are young looking for dates
advice: stay home spend time with mates!
Written 22/02/2021
Charles Messina sponsored
List with a twist contest
genius of sorts
scientific dna
human completion
understanding lacks her mysteries
all in my head
what wonder asunder?
a complex calibration
with my ego.
all in jest!
but, is it really?
what is the nip in the bud?
my rose?
my cucumber?
my lavender?
finger to lip, I pause,
eyes meandering meaninglessly,
comprehending nothing, I
turn away.
Lady Of The Evening
Former Godless Adulterous Nocturnal Friendly
Sizzling Engaging Freelancing Partnering
Releasing Opposing Negatives
Manifestation Person's Convictions Trial And Tribulation Act Of Contrition Conscience Of Mind
Esteem Repairing Refresh Appraising
Shattering Enslaving And Controlling
Extraordinary Conscientious Extremest Sanctimonious
Member Of The Nightingale Nurses Corp
Date: 06/10/2019
There is dust, cobwebs, and all sorts of debris.
Years of idleness have resulted in this scene.
That is the inside of this dilapidated house I see.
I don’t know if I will ever get it clean.
This is an English quintain I’ve written for Francine.
written 3-08-12 for Francine's "Cobwebs and Dust" contest. Cobwebs and dust theme used.