Best Specified Poems
Just wanted to make a few things clear for my fellow poets
If you are going to use A I, to write a poem for a particular
contest, then be sure to let the sponsor know by adding
A I on top of your poem, so the sponsor of the contest
can then decide whether to use it or not.
I don't believe it is the responsibility of the sponsor to
check every single poem to see if it is A I or not
Please be honest about it if you are and let the sponsor
know.
If the sponsor has specified no A I, then please respect
that. After all we are all writers, and we all know that
we take pride in our creative abilities. So I am asking
if anyone agrees with me, please leave a comment.
This was not written to put down A I in any way
Its coming from a naive woman who just assumed
I am no longer that naive,
Please don't join any of my contests unless you are
planning to write me an original without the help
of AI,
Thanks
Vienna aka Mystic Rose
I'm not strong
the nights are long
with my thoughts
in my mind
the demons designed
all the lies
that specified
how to act
they told me what to do
that's a fact
I made a pact
with myself
not to be put on a shelf
the thoughts in my mind on repeat
it forms a beat
I try to push the demons away
that's a feat
but I never can
they come back in a clan
ready to be fought
they can't be bought
In a Continuum consciousness far beyond
In a timeless time of pre existence
Waking wonders that unfold and respond
With the Kingdom keys of less resistance...
Seismic secular Soul secretions
Creating many learned living legions
Chaotic Cosmic consciousness swirling in Majestic masses
Super Sponge Soul absorbing the Multiverse of gases
Dynamic DNA dancing strands of phosphate spice
The blueprints of our creation double helix shall suffice
Spiritual Soul the embodiment of a specified source
Collective Consciousness through out the human course
Dark molecular matter that we cannot see
Is the Love, the galactic glue that is to be.
Why is it necessary that Soul consciousness be achieved while in the physical body? Is this the purpose of our souls being encased in a physical body?
May.25.2016
Contest By Catie Lindsey
Not for the contest
No more do I despair
writing for contests with an off the wall theme
Those that want me to create a nightmare
from what was once a beautiful dream.
No more do I care
about Marvel characters who fight and kill
I'd rather spend my time writing silly limericks
for fun and honing a particular poetry skill
than worrying about meter and syllable tricks.
No more do I write
for contests where a sponsor forbids me to choose
how many spaces I indent each middle line
by someone who thinks they're a bard. No, I refuse
to write for a yobo whose rules constrict and confine.
No more contests
do I enter for judges who hold grudges and spite
or who offer friendship placements with a wink.
It's not fair to good poets who get N/A'd as a backbite
I've no more interest in participation with pen and ink
No longer care
to write for judges who give novel length instruction
Yes, rules should be followed, but not to such extreme.
It negates poetic license, serving as a poetic obstruction
making that contest sponsor, head of his or her regime.
No more writing
for those who prohibit adjectives and adverbs be used
or if the sponsor has never written in the specified form.
The power that some feel as a judge can be abused
while preaching about dos and don'ts from a platform.
Oh, spare me
from those who don't know the use of literary devices,
metaphors, proper grammar, and over doing alliteration.
To anyone who wants to enter contests, my advice is...
"Don't take a crown seriously. It will lead to abdication."
No more issues
to deal with sponsors who change their minds midway
through contests because no entries for the theme... bizarre,
and decide, without warning they have the right to say,
"I can do what I want." Who made them the contest czar?"
No blight is this
on judges who sincerely host, giving up their leisure time
to make PS a place where everyone can take an active part.
Those who appreciate good fun in free verse or with rhyme.
I applaud the fair-minded sponsors who have a good heart.
A few weeks ago, I decided to not enter PS contests any longer.
***AND NOW GOD BRINGS TO YOU… ***
Ladies and Gentlemen!
Through the auspices of
Our Glorious God’s
Creation Company…
Traveling the infinite of Love…
Across the heavens, then
Through our atmosphere, and,
With His eternal nearness to
The Earth’s moving horizons ~
In His wanting to reach
Every bedroom
Door and window with His Light…
All rise, please, as
The New Day
Now Presents to you:
The Sun!
See how
She first appears with a single, flaming peek
Out from beneath
The opaque black curtain of night,
Which stirs us to wake from
The forgettable dreams of dead sleep.
The fanfare of trees,*
which grows and breathes,
just beyond my window,
Now tunes up to accompany
Sun’s early swim up the sky,
Their punctuating notes, their leaves
swishing and flittering
In time with whistling breezes to
Signal
Sun has begun
Her welcomed performance —
Quite delighting our eyes
With her dazzling, ornate, orange dress.
There are exclaiming cheers heard
from Mother Nature’s
“Sold-out” audience — that color-lush
Everywhere around,
Holding hope for this re-rebirth of
A new day, preceding all
The days of discovery still to come.
————————————————
** Note: “fanfare” of trees —
SO, For the trees outside my window, it is not a “group, border, array, cluster, grove, mass, or forest.” Since I needed to describe and define with a NEW adjective, Writer’s License was used - after research — i coin the trees with whom I interac as a “fanfare” of trees, meaning essentially, an ‘addition’ or enhancement to a specified principal thing, which adds value.
Written with concern for world’s areas
surfering severe drought. Prayers going
Up for your relief & all peoples to work on the global environmental crisis.
(c) sally young eslinger 1012/22
I use to stay hungry, would eat a healthy portion of meat. Still I felt incomplete, I was destined to repeat until I heard of Spiritual Meat.
Meat very good to eat, it's nourishment to the bones and can be a real treat even sweet. But there's another meat and it's role has a specified goal cause it's not only nourishment for the body it's food for the soul.
Spiritual Meat, builds character makes you complete. It also turns up the amps making you a Heavenly Lamp and releases you from your worldly prison camp. But if I so desire how do I acquire such a delicacy that's so much higher and completely discrete as Spiritual Meat.
First you must have a Spiritual thrust then be Spiritually nursed until your worldly thinking is reversed but in order for it to flow as smooth as silk you must start on Spiritual milk.
Then to make progress you must be willing to confess and let go of all the worldly mess. Only then will you gain access and know the meaning of true success. After you complete this wondrous feat you'll be ready to eat Spiritual Meat.
This is not success from climbing man's Earthly ladder which can turn you into the Mad hatter, for many lives this illusion has shattered because it takes away what really matters and has left countless people by the wayside, battered and tattered.
So grab your baby bottle, at first you may waddle but stay off the throttle and before you know it you'll become a roll model. Then your feet will be placed on solid concrete. Once you are weaned you'll become clean, even if you are a fiend because you'll know on who to lean. Only then will you be able to eat your Spiritual Meat.
God and The Devil sat counter
over whiskey at the boardroom table,
to negotiate the terms of her surrender;
no real surrender materialised,
but the battle-lines were re-drawn,
albeit imperceptibly so.
The value of the chattel
will not be agreed,
the meaning of defeat
almost as meaningless as winning,
but for the stroking of the battered ego,
chattel’s value unknown.
I sat with God and The Devil
at the blood-stained boardroom table,
they specified the terms of my surrender
and erased the day of my resistance;
the surrender was real and assured,
I haven’t heard from them since.
23rd January 2019
whorl
of gig,
seasonal
festivity ~
shapely, forested feast,
fairyland of colors.
scarlet, gold, and pumpkin,
reddish-purple notes ~
serenade of
surging gale’s
lavish
spend
9/7/2021
Sponsor: Malabika Choudhury
MERSE - Beauty Of Fall
PS syllable counter used
gig - job usually for specified time
If I were a fly on the wall I would
Never sleep,
I would hear all
See all
If I were a fly on the wall I would
Tell all.
No, don’t think so
You might as well forget about
The thing called sleep
I would harass you day and night
And fade into the darkness
I will eat your food and continue
To grow
Bigger and bigger I will grow
I still will retain my power to fade
Within the walls
To my safe haven called home
For this specified state I will surrender
My all
My safety is met within your walls, I
Call home
While I do these treacherous deeds
But I certainly would buy me a
Pair of seeing glasses and
Keep them free of lint and dust
I would perch my self high above
Close to the ceiling,
Your head is my target
Moon pies is my bombs
Just whistling around your head
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz
But, want it be fun?
You’ll dry your face from all the water
That spill’s and leak''s
“Oops”
Excuse me,
These were not of my intention
Don’t hit me sir, please sir don’t hit
Me,
I’ll find another home just let me
Fly away
“Hehehehe”
"Thinking"
Into another wall in your house
But,
Close to wherever you sit not to
Miss any fun
In silence I’m thinking of making
Myself a new home
We’ll make our home as we feed and
Become an nuisance
Flying and buzzing, buzzing around your
Head
Singing you will never rid yourself of me
I will only make more of my litter
To infest your home with my off spring
Our species rise to be stronger as one
His hand reached out to mine, open,
Holding it, I smiled, our eyes danced with understanding,
Form and blush outlined his expectations,
But I could see that there may be fear inside.
Mary restated their predicament,
That the child was born out with the marriage bond,
And that people were swaying to the opposite side,
And course dialogue, laughter and spitting were norm.
So I asked the two for their thoughts and predictions,
About the child, if he perhaps could be like, special?
And they specified that he would cure, heal and exorcise,
And also promised that they’d talk to him about the poor.
Could this baby be the messiah?
I pondered and hoped in their certainty;
Was this the predicted son of god?
He would be free from aggressive victimisation,
If we could just name him as god's son.
So I suggested to his parents,
That if the wise men came with a quest,
To accept the name Jesus Christ,
And certify the census, no less.
Freedom for some is in lying,
When there’s no possible alternatives,
But I believe Joseph never lied,
In the population census of Bethlehem,
That just so happened to pass by.
The child would have been suppressed by all,
Assumed to be dirty and unclean,
Not for chat or dialogue,
And certainly not for work in a trade of his call,
Or for work in any trade for that matter.
Nothing would ever have been done,
The poor would never have been healed,
Or not so quickly for sure in history;
The government would not have been rifled,
And Christ would not have come.
Treating the poor for health problems,
Would have come through government legislation,
A long time after Christ,
In an austere, aloof manner.
People to people relationships,
Would not have been respected,
If care had been awarded top-down,
By bureaucrats and officials:
As supervisors of the protected.
Society at that time was narrow minded,
Stuck in traditional religion;
There were outcasts, sinners, infectious people,
And assumptions were remedial and red:
There were no special people,
No exceptions to the rule,
Only one place for the messiah confided.
One baby matters to me,
A life should be saved at any cost and risk,
Because the abilities you show when young,
Shouldn’t be muffled or labeled regressive,
But nurtured in acceptance and love.
Autumn Colors (Death So Bold)
Resting upon cold , hard ground
leaves depleted Autumn's gold
Solid vapors soon are found
in rested spirits of old
colors so bright, death so bold
09-02-2014
English Quintain Rhyme Scheme a. b. a. b. b.
No specified measure
Note: Not required but given as reference only...
Syllables Per Line: 7 7 7 7 7
Total # Syllables: 35
Total # Lines: 5
Born an American on eighth month
Stanley Allen Meyer, a man worth,
Designed technology of water fuel cell
Machines which as the perpetual motion.
Thing that retrofitted in automobile
Water as fuel instead of gasoline,
Cell which splits water's element
Hydrogen and oxygen purportedly.
Mixture of gases with specified ratios
Result of reaction came Hydrogen gas
Burnt to seperate water molecules,
Violating the laws of Thermodynamics.
Thus, his perpetual motion works,
The term known, Electrolytic cells.
Electricity, a chemical redox reaction
Which got patent in Nineteen-ninety.
Use of "Water fuel cell assembly"
Portrays fuel cell wall capacitor
Single unit producing fuel gas,
That's the method of his invention.
Ohio TV station turned the destiny
His invention termed as fraudulent
Two investors brought out dealerships
Came as witness for "lame excuse".
Claimed of using Electrolysis
Committed fraud, "gross and egregious"
Dollor of twent-five thousand,
Repay them quick, court ordered.
With Belgian investors at restaurant
"They poisonef me" He shouted.
Ran out, gained his death
It's over of a cerebral aneurysm.
An hour of death came to both
Meyer with his invention's death,
No other restriction, no royalty,
His work incorporated long ago.
The car that ran on water
Sank on it's master death
A legend's history people unaware,
Invention which had Meyer's depth.
House hunting was a challenge
as the real estate agent drove me around,
I specified that mid-century modern
was my dream and hoped to find it,
determined to be patient and not have a fit.
At an open house I found what I wanted,
a sprawling beauty with ceiling to floor windows,
with a giant sliding glass door that opened wide,
stepping outside into a plush garden,
before my eyes a lovely sight of a verdant arden.
My parent's blonde furniture fits well
throughout the spacious and light rooms,
a white brick fireplace highlights the main room,
matching sunburst mirrors decorate the walls,
a Sputnik chandelier sports its space balls.
I am surrounded with my retro theme,
life in my dream home has come true,
living the past in the present is a treat,
as if time stood still in the golden days,
reminding me of life and its easy ways.
Never Forget
Oh thou of wretched heart and deed
Inferior our seeds?
When thus thou felt the need to rule
Annihilate deemed weeds
Thou casteth out your wicked net
Of guns and war bent twine
No bulwark for the Jews was found
Declaring heads decline
Compliant soldiers marched the streets
For ducats hedged your bet
With waving flags and Hail Hitler’s
Obliging hands were met
Whilst cyanide was gassings Jews
Obedience decreed
In bunkers hid you reigned your realm
Coward of plotted deeds
When one man tries to rid the world
Of an imagined foe
Mankind will raise its voice as one
He’ll reap what he did sow
Completed on 2/4/12
All rights reserved by Debra Squyres @ 2013
My fist attempt with a Quatrain…..this a modified quatrain as per specified by the rules of the members contest: Historical Modified Quatrain
1st and 3rd lines eight iambic syllables
2nd and 4th lines 6 iambic syllables
To make a good cake,
one has to use the right
ingredients to make it
tasty, shapely and attractive
to look at
One has to mix the different
ingredients at different stages,
in order to have the right texture
Finally, one has to put the cake
in the oven, and bake
it at the right temperatures
at a specified time interval
Just like making a cake,
we ought to make the right choices,
in order to make our lives pleasant and peaceful
We ought to go one step at a time
in the choices we make,
in order to have a balanced life
To have a successful life,
we ought to have patience,
and right spirit of persistence
A successful life and a well-baked cake
in the end depend on the choices we make
at every stage