Best Staked Poems
"Neophoca"
I was dragged
out of my ocean
of dreams
when they peeled
my skin, I was broken,
an endangered species
feeding bits of me
to the carniverous
genus species
the genus
and gender
predatory
covetting my
freedom they
lost themselves
in the comforting
arms of my trust
they wore me out
made sleeves
of me, stole
my baby
expensive collateral;
their ownership belittled,
bruised and scorched
victory marks
like tattoos
marched on me
they branded me,
attached
to my life
untruthful labels,
their ignorance
basking
became them,
the sins
of the fetid
patriarchy
such violence, this
devoted dv, the human
seed planted
my baby,
zoo trained
and chained
I became uprooted
stalked, staked and
claimed
I became owned
I drowned in my
mortal dreams
such violence, this
devoted dv, the
imprisoned truth
life blood escaping
the juxtaposed
real me
Selkie
the humble humboldt
priests call me
Neophoca cinerea
they call me
reverently,
they sing me home,
home
to my only
holy See
they call me
reverently
Selkie
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Categories:
staked, abuse, muse,
Form:
Narrative
How many roses since have come and gone?
he thought as he sat looking at her grave.
How many futures had been staked upon
those brilliant blooms to her he often gave?
What stiff buds like hands in prayer since drawn
in oils on canvas did she seem to crave?
“White angels,” she did sing the day they wed.
Again he placed them here now she was dead,
as he'd done each year upon her birthday.
The emerald garden and granite stones
still looked untouched. The olive trees now swayed
as ever had in June. As white as bones,
statues silent, but proud as gods portrayed,
were yet his marble friends and not undone
by tears. My Angel White was she when wed,
he mused again, his feelings still unsaid.
A thousand memories like ivy spill
over the wall behind his quiet chair.
Such fervent whispers in a windless chill
go through his head of sparse and silver hair.
So many letters from an inkless quill
he wrote alone as though they'd reach her there.
A thousand roses white as angels tread
upon his dreams, keep singing in his head.
But now the car was packed, the house was sold.
Their young sons all were grown and since moved out.
He blurted forth, “My darling, now I'm old.
The boys are grown and all are strong and stout;
I know that you'll be safe within their fold.
I must move, have a life that's now about
the years that I have left. I'll always hold
those times we had as precious as though gold.”
He stood and put the chair into the car.
He cried upon the freeway for some time,
the new life in the desert still afar
from coastal past and reminiscent clime.
A new home that he'd found could be on par
with what he'd now let go. Had come the time
when he must vanquish sacred angels white.
And thus he drove into the coming night.
8/20/17
Categories:
staked, death, lost love, moving
Form:
Ottava rima
Prospector Pete had roamed the hills fer years searchin' fer gold!
He and his faithful burro, Fred, were both growin' weary and old.
He'd looked fer color in many a mountain and stream in Colorado,
Lookin' fer that mother lode, that elusive vein, his own El Dorado!
Oh, he'd found a few nuggets here and there, but didn't amount to much.
Those he did find he'd blown on gamblin', women, whiskey and such!
Pete would save a bag of dust or two from his many wanton toots,
To grubstake himself to re-supply his picks, jeans, shovels and boots.
He staked his claims along ripplin' streams and left many holes along the way.
The mountains and valleys are pocked with his many diggin's to this very day!
He'd come up dry, nothin' there, and move on to more appealin' pickin's,
Burrowin' and pannin' with elbows flyin' workin' like the dickens!
Pete would winter in his cabin 'til spring then he'd begin his annual quest,
Packin' his tools on long-sufferin' Fred and headin' fer the hills to the west.
If he didn't find that elusive bonanza this year he swore that he would retire,
To his ramshackle cabin at the foot of Mount Pisgah and enjoy the blazin' fire!
Years passed and Prospector Pete wasn't seen 'round town much anymore.
One wintry day his friends found him froze to death upon his cabin floor!
They dug Prospector Pete's grave and buried him outside his cabin door.
Eureka! Six feet down was that vein of gold that he'd been a-lookin' for!
Categories:
staked, funny,
Form:
Ballad
Written: August 09, 20230
Fifa Women's World Cup 2023 Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Mark Toney
______________________________________________________________
In the realm of soccer, where dreams bear flight,
A stage was set, shining under the beaming light.
The Women World Cup, with glory at stake,
Sweden against the U.S., hearts ready to quake.
Regulation played out, With a nil-nil score,
Both teams gave their all. Their spirits never wore.
The tension in the air—as the clock ticked away.
The crowd held their breaths, in anticipation that day.
Extra time was granted to break the deadlock.
True, a win was staked—each side stood headlock.
The strain grows as there are no goals to be found.
As the clock started to tick away the time abound.
The shootout with penalties—to pick the winner.
In the greatest nerve-racking way feasible spinner
The U.S. stepped up, with confidence and might,
But fate had a different design, on this fateful night.
Three missed kicks—In the realm of soccer fights,
Sealed the U.S.'s fate, In a moment so tight.
Kudos to Musovic—and the Blue and Yellow,
For their resilience and skill, in a match so mellow.
In the realm of soccer, Where dreams bear flight,
This game will forever be a testament to their might.
The Women World Cup—a stage of pure thrill,
Where nations unite, with a passion that is real.
Though the U.S. may have faltered, In this battle so grand,
Their journey won't cease here—their legacy will still stand.
In the realm of soccer, It's not just around the score,
But the heart and grit, retain us coming back for more.
So let us celebrate the triumphs and the falls,
The beauty of the game captures us all.
In the realm of soccer, where dreams bear flight,
We witness moments of glory—battles fought with might.
Congratulations to Sweden—their win was sweet
All dreams in the field of soccer start at the feet.
A stage was built up, gleaming in the spotlight.
The Women's World Cup—the stakes are right.
Categories:
staked, america, analogy, appreciation, soccer,
Form:
Rhyme
In 1890, cowboy Bob Womack found gold at the base of lofty Pikes Peak!
In short order a ramshackle town was founded called Cripple Creek.
Hordes of gamblers, 'soiled doves' and prospectors hopin' to make a buck,
Heeded the call of 'Pikes Peak Or Bust' and fled west to try their luck!
This 'peaked' the interest of a young Hoosier feller named Oliver Pence,
Who ordered a shovel from the Sears Roebuck Catalog for eighty-seven cents.
(He called Cripple Creek, Cripple 'Crick' since that's how Hoosiers speak!)
He strapped the shovel to Fred his mule and headed west his fortune to seek!
Oliver staked his claims and his shovel left many a diggin' 'long the way.
His shafts and holes in the hills and vales can be seen to this very day!
He'd found a few nuggets and a bit of dust but didn't 'mount to much.
What he did find he'd blowed on gamblin', whiskey, wimmen and such!
Often, he'd lean on his trusty shovel and muse 'bout his fate.
He talked to the shovel, sayin, "We ain't had much luck as of late.
We'll winter in the cabin and come spring we'll continue our quest;
I'll strap you on old Fred and we'll head fer them hills to the west!"
Seasons came and went and Oliver wasn't seen 'bout town much anymore.
On a cold and dreary day, friends found him stiff dead on the hovel floor!
They dug his grave with the shovel and buried him outside the cabin door.
Six feet down the old shovel struck gold - the lode he'd been a-lookin' for!
Categories:
staked, fate, humorous, mountains,
Form:
Rhyme
He knows if you are sleeping,
He knows when you're awake,
He knows if you've been bad or good.
Zombie Jesus must be staked!
So eat your crackers and wine,
And think that you'll be saved,
But that's not why he's here because
Your brains are what he craves!
He'll never stop his rampage.
Not until he's fully fed,
But nothing satisfies his hunger
Like what rattles in your head.
He's coming down the chimney.
He's underneath your bed.
You think you can outrun him,
But soon you will be dead.
So you better not whisper,
You better not cry
Cuz even a shot between his eyes
Won't stop Zombie Jesus, tonight..
Categories:
staked, adventure, easter, fear, funny,
Form:
Narrative
Prospector Pete had roamed the hills fer years searchin' fer some gold.
He and his faithful burro, Fred, were both growin' weary and old.
He'd looked fer color in many a mountain and stream in Colorado,
Lookin' fer that mother lode, that elusive vein, his own El Dorado.
Oh, he'd found a few nuggets here and there, but didn't 'mount to much.
Those he did find he'd blown on gamblin', women, whiskey and such.
Pete would save a bag of dust or two from his many wanton toots,
To grubstake himself to re-supply his jeans, shovels and boots.
He staked claims 'long ripplin' streams and left many holes 'long the way.
The mountains and valleys are pocked with his diggin's to this very day!
He'd come up dry, nothin' there and move on to more appealin' pickin's,
Burrowin' and pannin' with elbows flyin' workin' like the dickens!
Pete would winter in his cabin 'til spring then he'd begin his annual quest,
Packin' his tools on long-sufferin' Fred and head fer the hills to the west.
If he didn't find that elusive bonanza this year he swore that he'd retire,
To his cabin at the foot of Mount Pisgah and enjoy the blazin' fire.
Time passed and Pete wasn't seen 'round town much anymore.
On a wintry day his pals found him froze to death upon his cabin floor!
They dug Pete's grave and buried him just outside his cabin door.
Eureka! Six feet down was that vein of gold that he'd been a-lookin' for!
Categories:
staked, humorous, irony,
Form:
Ballad
She was my virtual secret lover
who staked a claim on me; it was her choice.
Enshrouded in intense obscurity
I never saw her face or heard her voice.
She spoke to me in silent words of yearning
inscribed in coloured ink on fragrant notes
attached to each a petal that gave meaning
to the emotions that adorned her quotes.
A longer letter came one autumn evening;
It left me trembling and with misty eyes.
With ailing strength she begged for love, forgiveness.
Her final words still echo her goodbye.
Attached there were two orange blossom petals
a sign of never ending bond of love,
now a treasured memory pressed for time eternal
of my virtual secret lover watching from above.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Make Their Jaws Drop
Sponsor: FJ Thomas
Categories:
staked, love hurts, memory,
Form:
Ballad
Time has flown by. Much of your life
you've spent denying all the strife.
But you can never answer why
much of your lifetime has flown by.
Hand each sad tale you write in. Long,
ambiguous, verbiage strong -
saved in your mind. You never fail -
you write in longhand each sad tale.
Verse of the truth? Such is the con
that you have staked your life upon,
as though you never lost your youth.
Such is the converse of the truth.
Come to believe you need an out
from all that causes fear and doubt
Ask for the truth; you will receive.
You need an outcome to believe!
Come, be that one that you can be
Embrace this as your destiny:
Be all (when all is said and done)
That you can become. Be that one.
Categories:
staked, age, growing up, truth,
Form:
Quatrain
Give me anguish that feels like my heart has been staked,
Give me betrayal, entrapment, and hatred of my race.
Give me shame, humiliation, and painful disgrace,
But please oh please spare me, a pretty face.
Categories:
staked, anxiety, betrayal, break up,
Form:
Rhyme
I feel like I can move forward now
I have completed what I think is my legacy ?
I've staked my reputation on it
So if you want or feel the urge to comment
Please go ahead make my boring day
As to me even criticism I do not mind
At least you took the time
I will be fine I am in my prime
Buddy can you spare a dime
Or a second of your time
To fill in my comments line
Categories:
staked, appreciation,
Form:
Free verse
It’s a’ hundred an’ ten,
'Neath the shade of my chin,
An’ the prairie’s cracked like old leather.
Looks like my skin,
Where a boys face once had been,
The years; how they do gather?
Time’s been cruel to the Staked Plains,
Once gorged by ancient rains,
Now seized in her dusty wrath.
Barren amber grass now remains,
Scorched breath tries removin' her stains,
Beseechin’ her forbidden bath.
Pony or calf my only shade,
‘Cept what little Resistol made,
Bestowed Blessin’s upon an’ open range.
A Prairie Moon brings little aide,
North Star brought a wind laid,
Thanks Lord, it’s a welcomed pleasant change.
By: Jim “Ish” Fellers
Copyright ©; June 1, 2008 ~ Sunday
Categories:
staked, cowboy-western
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Are we having fun yet?
I think I’m doing everything right.
The three-hour drive only took four hours.
My postage stamp of beach is
staked out and blanketed.
Soda and Kool-Aid float in
tepid water in the cooler.
Beach towels, bathing suits, balls,
umbrellas, goggles, fins, chips,
hats, sun block, sand toys, lawn chairs,
and Solarcaine are near at hand.
I know, you see, because I carried them
across every damn inch of a quarter mile
of burning sand while the kids chased
seagulls and picked Cheetos off the
ground.
Are we having fun yet?
Sand has invaded personal spaces
even my gynecologist hasn’t seen.
My hair has twisted itself into Rasta locks,
saltwater style, and I can actually
see the freckles exploding like popcorn.
I lie down. I open a book. I am promptly surrounded.
“Mommy, it’s hot. We want to go home.”
Are we having fun yet?
Categories:
staked, beach, my children, summer,
Form:
Prose Poetry
My heart is being held prisoner
In her dungeon of coquettishness
She hasn’t fully rejected me
But my advances she coyly deflects
I haven’t given up all hope
She still smiles at my innuendos
But when I approach for a carnal dance
She just steps all over my toes
My heart is being held prisoner
In the shadows of doubt’s darkness
As if she is waiting for someone better
Before donning her wedding dress
I wish that I could just escape
To pursue another’s full acceptance
But it seems my heart is forever staked
To this unfortunate circumstance
Categories:
staked, love hurts,
Form:
Rhyme
Today, my heart heaves a heavy weight
Why, O! Why?
The soul crushing goodbye
Fervently I pray,
To see you just one more day
We part ways knowing it not our last
Looking ahead, thinking of our next
But Death, too grotesque, had other plans;
My burden to bear!
Why this painful news,
Only God knows
Someone please!
Wake me from this dream
A cold, unfathomable abyss
That I never want to revisit
We bow our head in sadness
And bury our faces in distress
My heart full of pain resonates its tears
If only, If only
We could haggle out of our demise
Gone too soon
The sheer disbelief
The promises you vowed to keep
Goals to reach before you finally sleep
You may be no more but not in my mind
Still here with me
If only I can see
A staked heart, resounding unbound tears
Forget you not; to miss you a lot
Lost souls, forgotten families
Never to me
Good tales we've heard
From generations long and dead
The happy ending cliche
For your soul, I pray
Here our fate! separated by worlds
While I wait
For the powers that be, to bide us again one day
But more, for in mere simplicity
I will never say goodbye
Forever with me,
My brother, my blood
In Loving Memory of our Lost Souls
Categories:
staked, brother, cry, death, death
Form:
Elegy