Best Sparsely Poems
A whistling wheezing hamlet, whispering and emanating, tunes euphonic,
In a remote isolated valley, far-flung from the abode of the temporal,
Warbling quietly to whistle scads of tranquil cryptic songs;
Lying spasmodic, a sparsely inhabited mellifluous hamlet, Kongthong!
Not to hyperbole, a singing utopia, uncustomary to the core!
Where innate and mellow are the naive dwellers' rustic tinkling timbres!
A rover's riddle, the natives' pride, a unique heritage, their blissful strains!
Ringing with an ancient tradition of tune-giving in honour of the root ancestress,
Customary to the matrilineal surviving unknown folk of the thorp!
The chirping region's dispositions and practices outlandish, vague and obscure,
Primitive and bizarre, mere to merge with nature's absolute accord!
Voices buzzing in whistles, murmuring and chattering, lilting,
Arcane, pervading the virgin thicket of the sacred thorpe!
To entangle, passerby and wanderers in dream like metaphors!
Those magical murmurs in quirky tunes, mingling the breeze of the secluded hamlet, intoning own tinkles!
Blessed are the tuning terrain's offsprings, nameless!
Rared by ditties, hailed sacred by the clan's conviction!
Outlying, by the uninhabited enchanting wilderness of East Khasi Hills,
Sleeping quietly the untrodden, nature's lulling lullaby, the whistling Kongthong!
Yell! Immaculate and serene, the saga of their undeciphered airs, mumbling in exquisite ethos!
Inimitable and gripping to eye, how the denizens of the tribe,
Are crooning to dub and call each other by indigenous intonations!
Pitching and whooshing, to tune their melodic identities unique!
Whew! The picturesque terrain is tweeting, whooping, and whizzing!
Heaven! Bless anomalous nature's absolute pamphlet,
The ringing Kongthong, God's own whistling hamlet!
Categories:
sparsely, community, earth, education, encouraging,
Form:
Alliteration
How Dare We Ever So Boldly Speak Out
Let me write in obscure and chaotic words
stirring waters tepidly unknown
Yet my spirit refuses to admire such birds
or the massive flattery they are now shown
Why yes, some of us write from poetic hearts
with passion and not merely for fleeting praise
We that sail the seas, using understood charts
are now thought to be in an insane craze!
O' that we dareth to sparsely use archaic words
in poems as way of joining with the past
O' what folly, not wanting to be in a modern herd
or be afraid of those that so love to lambast
Cry thee, to thy Gods of confusing adulation
while we carry on in our simple ways
Content with depth, not writing for modern adoration
full of faith that truth and heart in poetry pays!
Robert J. Lindley, 4-27-2017
Note- Old poet, simple slam and quite tired of elitist criticisms
of poet novices, true hearts writing in understood words and
some that seek to exalt themselves by tearing others down..
Yes, this is a slam, but one done in a simple,reserved and more poetic style.
Categories:
sparsely, slam,
Form:
Rhyme
Written: October 02, 2023 For Robert James Liguori Contest
_______________________________________
Fervent mishaps start life's biggest wins.
The first crocus shrieks and grins.
A bird's song caused snowflakes to bloom.
Pink, peach, and gold hues in the sky loom.
A fib said once might have afar-reaching effects.
Even as there's time for the truth to tie its elects,
I once took a pathless route to a sluggish win.
Suitable people can clash with the truth within.
Appearances may mislead, and secrets may hide.
A brave and savvy tale, hiding an enigma inside.
Cross rivers and lofty hilltops to find the truth.
Seeking truth amid a world of lies and sleuth
Aged tale as Eden Tree, vernal as a raw tooth
Men grasp lip-thatch form, art, and truth.
Erstwhile, tales, and fables tell.
Truth, rising from the depths of its well.
Authenticity faces life's storms defenseless.
Yet slyness stays sealed to strife senseless.
Justice and fairness ensure all are rated fairly.
Dark deceit and evil send spun wiles sparsely.
Be brave—the liar is a coward and a slave.
Sneaky, skilled at scams and lies, awful knave.
Being honest is punter than money and status.
Stick to the truth, relish light, do not tend to fuss.
Righteousness is power; truth must prevail.
True bravery for an hour typically will avail.
Under any disaster, selfish wails yield no gain.
Inspire with grit and firm will, not always pain.
Categories:
sparsely, analogy, appreciation, beauty, truth,
Form:
Rhyme
Break these chains that bind
holding in the deep ovens
blazing a fire for love.
Smiling midday moon
dressed in a baby blue sky
with sparsely scattered clouds dot.
White mother of pearl
their silver lining treasure
held soft beautiful warm babe.
In her finger beams
a light touching inside thoughts
sitting posed at three o’clock.
The moon just pops out
in kissing a golden sun
white ivory pearls smiling.
Within daylight thoughts
sweetly I pray in sunlight
shining warm all over you.
Deep ocean salted
with the bluest warmest waves
luster smiles sunshine color.
The magic tear drop
forms the silver lining bright
and cries for ivory pearls.
Alchemic water
wondrous most blue, dark and rare
lies love in Salt of the Earth.
Mermaids caress hope
encouraging happiness
makes all the more magical.
Pearl chain links in place
Neptune commands do it now
with finest gold most smiling.
Bathed best and brightest
white ivory pearls ready
for their concatenation.
Neptune’s grandeur finds
all sea creatures in awe now
abounds pearl dreams of rare love.
Pearl Dreams of Rare Love
14 linked all so precious
from the ocean’s heart and soul.
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (November 16, 2014)
(Terza Rima in Unrhymed Tercet poetic format)
Categories:
sparsely, beauty, emotions, heaven, imagery,
Form:
Terza Rima
Contn'd from Pg 1
So she called out to the stranger and asked for a ride
Snow had fallen heavily and already piled three feet high
When she climbed into the four-wheel truck never giving it another thought
Before he headed down the highway, he went into a crowded bar
Intuition nudged her, ‘get out now, turn back!’ But pride urged her, 'stay'
He returned with a brown bag; appearing harmless as he turned to her
‘Say, you’re trembling!’ He said and flashed a breathless smile
‘Here, have a slug, of this, it’ll warm you up, pretty girl!’
Hesitation loomed for a minute then she accepted the bag from his hand
Young Rachel, was now treading a path beyond thin, cracking ice
As tears stung her beautiful eyes, she'd never had a drink this strong
How her vacant tummy rebelled against the searing burn
Nausea arose from deep within, and she began to have regrets
Registering strong protest, her regurgitation would later accuse her killer
Her faith was sealed as there were no open doors left for escape
And before she realized he had made a reckless wide left turn
Down the snow covered dirt path through tall pines and fir
No longer were there sightings of sparsely lit farm houses
Interspersed along the desolate, picturesque landscape
The four-wheeler tackled with ease, snow drifts of fresh fallen snow
Where the following spring young Rachel's body would be discovered
That night Rachel laid buried under a few feet of snow
She was at rest now to awaken to eternity in sunny fields
Beautiful as daisies growing in heaven, carefree and endlessly in bloom!
~*~
For: Rachel..R.I.P.
Categories:
sparsely, dedication, life, loss, sad,
Form:
Free verse
In the dog days of summer, the kids discover a decrepit house and the old man (Rentaro Mikuni) who lives there alone.
— Zac Ntim, Deadline, 4 Feb. 2025
He was an old decrepit man, was he not?
His clothes tattered; his trousers held by a knot.
Few rooms: a chair, a table and rotten cot.
He lived in an old ruined house, full of rot.
His clothes tattered; his trousers held by a knot.
He ate sparsely of some fish he sometimes bought.
He lived in an old ruined house, full of rot.
Rarely some good older soul, some meat she brought.
He ate sparsely of some fish he sometimes bought.
Winter was too cold whilst summer was too hot.
Rarely some good older soul, some meat she brought.
Children loved his stories and explained each thought.
Winter was too cold, whilst summer was too hot.
Few rooms. a chair, a table and rotten cot.
Children loved his stories he explained each thought.
He was an old decrepit man, was he not?
Placed 1
Categories:
sparsely, growth, poverty,
Form:
Pantoum
Outside my windowpane
Daylight dwindles
Sunshines sparsely
Further from the new dome skies
Ninety-three million miles away
Imbued in ripened colors
Nature’s mahogany, oak, and cherrywood trees
and Jogger’s grassy paths once lime greens,
Chanting to changing tones of richer reds
Clustered blue-jays adorn
Like shimmering rhinestones
Gayly sing above our heads
Shadows stretch out deep
Swaying weeping willows sweep
Smoke smells flow through the crisp air
Musky scent from stonefire oven pits
Spiced up dishes mouthwatering lit
Lavish and lustrous ambers crackle
Flaming orange leaves swirl around and prance
Seducing all to voyeur their performance
Golden crinkled copper leaves splayed
Reaching, rustling to the ground
Making shuffling sounds
Minty blues peak through scarlet rays
Fall cashmere shawls display!
Autumn gardens
Nights that linger lasting moments
Granting lover’s time
For making romance
Categories:
sparsely, autumn, beauty,
Form:
Free verse
"And I rejoiced in being what I was:
In the lilac change, the white reptilian calm,
In the bird beyond the bough, the single one,
With all the air to greet him as he flew..."
From: "The Rose", by Theodore Roethke
One much given
to introspective self absorption,
little inclined to action,
I record this plaintive piece.....
The years go by and, though I age,
I am still the lone, unwanted one.
Early it was I learned
to embrace pain, or to avoid it.....
never to invite, through any expectation,
added disappointment.....
penning solitary lines,
mere mental meanderings.....
My drab world,
all dry sand and clouded sun,
sparsely populated,
was a nearly vacant, arid desert.
My laurels for achievements
I, and others, immediately devalued.
Nothing I did could
be worthy of a lauding.....
no good could come from
an unwanted one,
one outside the pale.....
not from such a joyless one.
The years go by, and still,
I am I.....the lone, unwanted one.
Categories:
sparsely, angst, depression, introspection, sad,
Form:
Free verse
(Part One) The first few hours.
I was just a ordinary man
caught up in the unruly throng,
The mob jeering and ranting
insults on the road along,
I pushed and shoved my way
through all the furore
to see what all the fuss and melee
was all about at the fore.
My heart shrunk as I eyed
in total dismay that ghastly sight,
From what befell my eyes, that Friday morn
befouling that dawning day with blight,
Was a Man sparsely clad, and bloodied soiled,
And about fifteen and a half hands tall,
His nut brown shoulder length hair
now caked and matted in disarray.
The way His hair and beard
was parted in the middle down
i knew that Man then
was belonging to the Nazarene Sect,
And brutally entwined upon His head
was a brambled thorny crown,
What more torturous and bestial
torment can a naked body be subject,
His body oozed and dripped sweat
all mixed with blood and grime,
And even more the gruesome
was the criss-cross lashes mark,
So visible, as He staggered along
on that arduous path that morning time,
Dragging a fifteen cubit long sycamore
torture-stake on His shoulder, bared stark.
His back bent and racked in obvious pain
bearing that one and a half hand in diameter log,
Then when, He stumbled in His stride
and before the Roman Centurion Him wanted to flog,
For that Man's wretched agony
and pain, I no longer could bear to stand,
Then in haste that Man to help
I shed my outer garments and tossed it to another man,
I stayed the Centurion's hand
and hoisted that stake upon my own broad back,
For I was Simon an Grecian man from Cyrene
and favoured arduous labourous toil,
When that frail worn-out Man turned
with blue-grey eyes and looked at me,
I saw in that look, relief and gratitude
then I knew, I did just right,
He sadly smiled as He said these words to me,
"Do you too now drink from this bitter cup?",
And added, "You shall indeed sip
its rim with Me to the end of time",
I knew Him then no ordinary, man could be
His voice so gentle and mild,
And I truly then wandered who this Man could be?
to suffer so cruelly, in the hands of man,
When He lightly placed His hand
upon my shoulder, I felt the load lightened,
as if I walked with a feather
on my back, and not His gruesome burden no more,
As we together trudged, on that path
that road, to Calvaria, that place of death,
I then knew that Man at my side
Was a Holy-man by His touch alone.
Categories:
sparsely, devotion, passion, religion, body,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
A huge thorn stabbed my side
I could no longer find a way to hide
Carrying it like a heavy cross on my shoulder
I wondered how long my life will go further
I heard the thorn bore its twig
Seemed as if a mountain to carry, it was so big
A tumultuous wave engulfed my being
My hope was wreathed…vision was blurring
I tried to gather strength… fending myself with *****
As I clung to God’s Love and His Saving Trunk
I cried to Him, kneeling and praying
Entrusting Him my agony and everything
As lighted candle in front of me grew brighter
I looked up and found two grey clouds turning whiter
Shafts of rays were beaming on sides
Gliding slowly like doors… showing a blue part of sky
As the sun peeped on that cloudy and gloomy day
Big raindrops fall suddenly and sparsely
With my open arms, I tried to catch-- to feel each of them
Hoping to heal my wound and take away my burden
Wings of good words heralded the miracle in few days
I felt His greatest love, omnipotence and saving grace
Then I was led in the Yardenit where His Beloved Son was baptized
A precious gift of consecration to renew my life
October 30, 2013 7.15pm;te
( old poem)
First Place
Contest: A poem you've not entered in contest #4
Judged: 5/22/14
Sponsor: My dearest poet, PD
Categories:
sparsely, celebration, inspirational,
Form:
Rhyme
Have seen an utopian lane, amidst the thicket, latent In the abode of the clouds, in the lap of the tranquil wilderness, far far away from the mundane mist!
A wheezing sparsely inhabited hamlet, Khonoma, a centuries- old settlement, so green, so serene!
Its' pristine unsullied views, lush wilderness, verdant bushes, aromatic wild blooms, resplendent orchids, rippling rills, are untouched and sacred!
The Angami tribes, the thorpes' dwellers lead an uncustomary simple life, crammed with ancient, timeless traditions and practices, with nature's absolute accord!
The unique panaromic cultivation practice, terrace farming, sprawling on the slopes makes the very sight elating!
Look, the remote richest biodiversity region is twirling with the endemic scented native flora and fauna, the boscage are cramming with untamed wild colourful fruits!
The revered cultural bird, the grey-billed Tragpon, is intoning from the bushes, making the milieu frolic!
Myriads of colourful birds are migrating to nestle in the sacred bushes of the mystic rills!
The pellucid drops from the misty mesas of nearby cascades are playing with the colourful pebbles!
Far from the pandemic, the cherubic hilly terrain is bustling with cerulean rills, shrouded by tropical rain forests and stepped paddy fields!
How finite are the rustic folks' wants and needs, the primitive shanties to dwell, the crystal cascades to quench, the crops of the golden fields to feed the mouths, the vibrant fiestas with nature's changing seasons to celebrate!
A paragon of men and nature in absolute harmony, is lying placidly, the transcendental picturesque tableland, Khonoma, the wheezing green hamlet, an utopia untrodden to bless the naive natives of the far flung highland!
" Sometimes in quest of no man's Utopia, we may miss the existing unleashed Utopia in proximity, yet untrodden " Quote by poet
November 11th 2021
Contest: " U" contest, New Poems Only
Sponsored by: Constane La France
Categories:
sparsely, appreciation, beauty, culture, farm,
Form:
Pastoral
To embrace
life’s analytic myth
to inspire
nature’s symbolic smile,
to manoeuvre
amidst northern skies of blue
to roam
chauvinistic contours sensitive and true.
To perceive
inclement purple haze that rebels
against the moor side mist,
to dwell if only momentarily within
a dream upon
“Windgate Nick” Where dandelion
seeds float in sunbeams
of radical tranquil,
and fanciful fables
of innocent finery are spawned.
To wander
the fallow tracks of “Heber’s Ghyll”
Stride the sparsely tussock
of “Nab wood Hill”
Create vernacular legend
amid “Viking” Skill!
Ramble again
the stony edge of “Ilkley Moor”
Split the boulder find the cure
formulate
a pageant, compose an
hereafter tour, if only to believe in him!
Entered Mark Toney's 2022
Poetry Marathon mile 22.
9/12/2022
poem written 2011
Categories:
sparsely, mystery,
Form:
Free verse
The last train to my destination
Sparsely crowded, seats unoccupied here and there
Its weariness is palpable, even the lights are blinking
A group of commuters remain huddled together
After the day’s hard work they prefer nodding upon each others’ shoulder
The train runs sleepily, now and again lights from outside
Flash upon the saint-like faces of the people inside
The train gradually slows down, presently it’s a stop
The platform receives some home bound bodies, someone
Jumps into the compartment carrying a group of young girls
They are perhaps returning from their school fest
They have revelled much, played and sang and danced
So rightfully they are tired, momentary rings on their mobiles
Are responded to, and then silence again
One of them suddenly opens up her eyes
The obscene nudge in her breast can not be mistaken
Can she protest? Would she…
Her meek eyes show helplessness
The lustful hand strikes again… she sobs…
All of a sudden a slap on the face of the rascal
Reverberates through the compartment, a woman in tattered clothes
Raises her finger to him, she’s one of them who go to the town
To earn their daily bread
Next halt, the girls get down
The blinking back light of the train disappears, leaving a trail of dust
Categories:
sparsely, evil, horror,
Form:
Narrative
After the storm gale force red a calm light filled baby blue sky
whistling birds singing a choir of divine beauty fills the air
deeply warm touching without profit costing nothing
fills inside with strength casting dark shadows out always remains
enveloped within prayer death love one's power inside weakness pure
White sparsely scattered mother of pearl clouds cap Snow mountain
sweeping over Amazing grace dreams casting magic spells spring
Coming down the High plain gazing towards Trawbegga bay
Tides enchanting a dark shade of blue distant thoughts brew
without cost profits nothing spirit of kindness overwhelming true beams
A cool spring breeze dusting the brow speaks
silently warm finger rays paint a beautiful garden Eden
Bells tolling calling the flock to worship kneeling humble
Spirit of freedom cries in the town of the Sunday cross
blessed I am oh Lord in this amazing view honored by your deep presence
Categories:
sparsely, angel, beautiful, beauty, bird,
Form:
Free verse
Leaving my home in the city
Gray lonely,and faceless
When the sun did shine
We'd run to the corner of 166
By Moes candy store
And jump into our neighborhood pond
The local fire hydrant
We would Frolic as girls Jumped rope
and looked on with twinkles in their eyes
Sparsely green it was and downright cold
At times this was my home
When told I'd be leaving I cried
Asking mom why
I was sent away far away
My new world my new home
Milbank where I died
And where I was reborn
The metaphor apparent
The sun always shined at Milbank
A real home with a Pointy roof
A white picket fence
Corralling daffodils
There were ducks and frogs
Of all kinds
and lurking poison ivy and sumac
Snakes and bats and more grass
But there was no hydrant
With empty cans of reingold
Beer abound
Only a brook,a lake,and two pools
There was grass galore and trees
And blue skies
As far as the eye can see
This was my new home
A place where I belonged
Even the name Milbank sounded
Homey pleasant and everlasting
When I finally left Milbank
We all sang in a lull
My friends cried I cried
Then I died
Never to be reborn
As before.....
Categories:
sparsely, childhood, daffodils, dedication, growing
Form:
Dramatic Verse