Best Staking Poems
The Dark Side of October
Late October moon is waking, through this cemetery shaking,
shaking as the cold wind breaking, walking ‘neath an old oak tree.
Stones like sentries undertaking, guarding graves as hearts are aching,
aching for the still ones staking, such an eerie sight to see –
dark and dreary, I’m so leery, such an eerie sight to see –
is this but a reverie?
In the graveyard shadows shimmer, dark of night is growing dimmer,
dimmer still without a glimmer, shadows ‘round the old oak tree.
Shadows dancing ever nearer, nearer still and getting clearer,
clearer like distorted mirror, twisting ghastly sight to see –
growing vastly, looming lastly, such a ghastly sight to see –
certainly a reverie?
Piercing sounds are penetrating, ear drums deafening pulsating,
ringing louder, devastating, echoes off the old oak tree.
Echoes bouncing screeching grating, ever louder agitating,
instigating, fears creating, from this ghoulish sight to see –
Am I mulish, maybe foolish, such a ghoulish sight to see –
surely just a reverie?
In the dark my head is spinning, round and round these sights imprinting,
fusing on my brain beginning, questioning my sanity.
All these sights and sounds are weighing, weighing as the ghouls are playing
playing as they do their preying, preying on my vanity –
I am praying, ghouls are swaying, preying on my vanity –
have I lost my sanity?
Eerie night just seems persisting, lasting as my mind is twisting,
waiting for daylight’s assisting, lighting up the old oak tree.
Eerie sights and sounds now fading, dark of night for daylight trading,
light of day is now invading, leaving me to clearly see –
seeing nearly, life so dearly, oh so clearly now I see –
must have been a reverie…..
or have I lost my sanity?
July 26, 2018
Here in the heavy depths of insolent woes,
We gesture and talk and waste our time,
Staking claim to each minute of our earthly life,
Running the hours through a clock by the day,
Never sated, not content to find even love,
Buried deep inside the petals of a perfect rose.
So was a metaphor created from the rose,
Then plagiarized and used for all of time,
Simply here to represent the beauty of love,
A perfection to which we cannot aspire to in life,
Or even death, in the darkest of all those woes,
Great though they may seem by the passing day.
It's a fragile, soulful kind of love,
In the pressing presence of the breaking day,
Where your back breaks beneath ample woes,
And there just simply isn’t ever enough time,
To do what you plan to do with your life.
Then you start to resemble that rose.
Soft and delicate, with easy loss of life,
Mournful of the passage of time,
Counting down, day by dreary day,
Ever seeking out to find dear love,
The theoretical banishment of woes.
Such is the way of the deep red rose.
Has it ever occurred to us not to mark time?
Just to ignore it, along with any such woes,
Just to leap forth and enjoy life,
To live to the absolute fullest everyday,
And just as chosen by the poet's rose,
To find and hold on to, that one true love.
For I find, that it's mostly true these days,
That people don't make enough time,
For laughter and fullness in life,
So preoccupied with petty woes,
That they forget about the beauty of love,
And in doing that, they forget about the rose,
I know what the rose represents in my life,
And I work hard to expel my woes every day,
So that soon I will have time for true love.
*****Written in Sestina for Constance's Poetry 101 contest.*****
******* 5th Place winner*******
******Sarah Blake August 2010******
A sestina is a highly structured form of poetry consisting of six six-line stanzas and a three-
line envoy (thirty-nine lines). The end words of the first stanza are repeated in varied order
as end words in the other stanzas and also recur in the envoy.
Wildflowers
Your words scream out the relative cynicism
Of an age that doesn’t believe
In anything –
Not God nor Goodwill
Nor possibility:
You label me a Pollyanna,
Mary Sunshine,
And a fool
For believing –
For grasping onto every positive mystery,
For staking claim to promises
Made in an ancient land of promise;
But,
Remember, my friend,
When we both awaken
In the same morning
Weary of the greyness
Deep
Within that place
Where life breaths life,
I will look up with a wrinkled grin
To laugh out loud
Embracing life
In the wind
Blowing through early summered trees
Keeping watch for the coming of the rain
Nourishing
Wildflowers of the fields - on mountainsides -
Blooming in August.
The poet Marshall Mathers
whilst "Cleaning Out My Closet"
blasted with inquiry-
"Have you ever been hated on or discriminated against?
I have...''
Interesting enough
in these crooked times
it is impossible to make a man like you,
or your art,
especially with unbounding determination.
Nevertheless,
It sure is mighty easy to attain their hatred,
through no fault of your own.
When they protest or demonstrate against you...
finally you have arrived!
That's powerful!
Common sense says,
"Never drive in the rear view mirror!"
Though, it sure is helpful to take a quick glance back
periodically
to check out Jealousy,
back there
doubting and shouting and eating your dust!
Take a whiff...
Listen...
AHHHH....
The band begins to play ferociously!
Off-key.
Off-color.
Slander Slogans pasted upon your face.
Furthermore,
Suddenly,
Systematically...
like roaches with lights bright,
they disappear into the night,
back to the slums;
begging for crumbs.
Once you've been Blacklisted;
Swallow.
Digest the miracle.
Pure, glowing gold
the alchemy of their anger,
visibly discernable from the glossy pyrite
appearing with fake praise.
Heed the old adage:
---------------Keep yir' friends close, and enemies closer.
Their futile harm repels from the Teflon donning your heart.
Envy
burns bold, boils,
melts and cools, then cold,
forging the sword.
Adding to your arsenal.
Stumble not
upon bone fragments,
brittle blacklist bandits...
the Catacombs of those
who aimed to defame your name,
staking claim for their
shameless sea of debris
and Rotten Forgottens
which only bolster your begotten flame.
Remain steadfast, undaunted
TROUNCE THOSE TREACHEROUS TROUBLES;
________________________ TO ________________________
MARCH THROUGH THE RIGOROUS RUBBLE!
*Heads High,
Let me see those eloquent eyes!~JsL
~Inspired by written words of Marshall Mathers, Cleaning Out My Closet,
Shady Records~
Flow mighty rivers, what all have you seen
Rise and fall of empires, string of storied kings
As veins carry blood, you give Earth its life
Carving the landscape as if done by a knife
Ancient, so ancient, much older than man
Incredible show of Gods mighty hand
Oh Nile and Amazon, visions so vivid
What secrets you keep alongside the pyramids
Yangtze and Yellow, through China you flow
Fog and mist rising, light and shadow aglow
OB-Irtysh, Lena and Yenisey too
Through grand scenic Russia, mysteries come into view
Mississippi, Missouri, Ohio you carry
Life giving waters, beside you we tarry
The vanity of man, tis he gives you names
creating boundaries, staking his claims
How much blood has been spilled, along sacred shores
Man wants all you can give, and then he wants more
You were here long before him, and will flow when he's gone
Still rushing and rippling your beautiful songs
Reflections of Sun and of Moon on your face
Inspire our souls with power and grace
We've drank and bathed, and cried on your shores
We've polluted and dumped, filling your pores
Please forgive us our trespass, in time we will go
Still rivers, grand ancient rivers will continue to flow
“That’s just the way you’re wired”
Sure some settings are predetermined out of the box
But most adapt over time to the environment
Growing up we all adjust to the situation to survive
To try to get our needs met and gain connection
In order to not short circuit
Same wiring extends to adulthood if you let it
Easy to justify “that’s just the way I am”
Using childhood strategies to cope with adult issues
Until your wires cross
The system crashes
You no longer wish to operate this way
Time for a diagnostic check up
Begin by analyzing your internal schematics
Must understand mechanics behind your motherboard
Investigate ingrained patterns of behaviors
Be gentle when digging into deep rooted tendencies
The process will be pain staking
But the payoff will be worth it
You may realize it’s not all hard coded
Don’t have to port over old programming
You can override the system
Have the ability to rewrite your code
It’s ok to shed outdated strategies
Create a test environment to establish new connections
Tip toe along with trial and error to see what works
You have agency to decide how to live your life
Compared to only relying on your old “wiring”
Time for an upgrade
The world is waiting for your Version 2.0
Lady Di
The princess we loved
At 5ft 10 tall with stunning beauty
This angel stunned the world
With her duty.
A young Diana did marry a Prince Charles
From other Royals she got snarls
An independent woman, we watched grow
With 2 sons William and harry
They filled her with life
They made her glow.
Thing soon turned sour
With an affair he had
This made Dianna
Very mad
She had 2 sisters and 2 brothers
Was talented on the piano
She like dance
Maybe the tango
Beautiful, humble, elegant
The charities she helped
Where to her testament
Diana the most influential person
Of the 20th century
We will forever hold her in
Our hearts and in our memory.
Related to Winston Churchill and 10 U.S Presidents
Towards the end of her life
She lived in torment
Diana developed a love interest
With Major James Hewitt
She looked happy
We knew it
Battling mental health issues, eating disorders
And suicide attempts
Behinds the scenes
Her heart was breaking
Whilst the paparazzi
Was staking
Media did not leave Dianna alone
There was no where she could turn
To be on her own
1997 Diana passed away in a car crash
The world in disbelief
We thought the media
Was speaking trash
It was true
There wasn’t a dry eye
How could this happen
Now her soul is in the sky
The driver of her car
Influenced by alcohol
Took this princess’s life
She was our real-life doll
Mother Teresa gave Diana
Rosary beads that where
Buried with her
Although no longer living
She still holds power
Thousands came to say goodbye
With many tributes
There wasn’t a dry eye.
Diana’s grave on an island
On her family’s lake
RIP Diana
You have no more heartache
"The Fresh Blooding of a Sexton Grin"
Guns ...
are for p*ssies
you know, short for
pussilanimous plural
Words …
are sharper
more cutting
more lethal
clean
concise
quill slicing the lucid flow
you can taste the blood
as you turn them
twist them further in
with valour
war cry bitten
you drive them deeper in
you unsheathe love
as a hard win,
victorious, won
ink blooms
potent power from
your stellar wounds
darkened roads
shining home
lux vitae dei vox
Home ...
morning star
quod scripsi scripsi
turns the light on
to birth puissant
in the majestic
seat of third eye
commanding
the truest titulus
initials glowing
arriving on cloudy tomes
perilously igniting
new fiery caims
swallowing
ouroboros tales
hear the battle cry
you were built
to withstand the fall
to more mighty again rise
the gauntlet
now well
and truly thrown
something
more darkly formidable
than shady insult sown
sink your new teeth in
fresh biting warrior
I christen you Boadicea
blood cup possessed
razor mind in you conjuring
the tongues of hearts to speak
there is no escape
for in you, I am and
I will always live
crucifying
all the wasting yesterdays
with fresh blooded promissory notes
staking claims of assurance
in the terror firmer
here to stay
sharpening
words taken
from a stone
n'ere a flowery
verbose drip
wasted
salting
the new cuts
to feel something vital
smiling within
fresh blooding
the Sexton grin
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Come as You Are”/Nirvana
https://youtu.be/W2QeQ9ZufAk
“The Black Art”/Anne Sexton
https://allpoetry.com/The-Black-Art
“Her Kind”/Anne Sexton
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42560/her-kind
Sexton. noun
titulus. noun
Caim. noun
Sanctuary; An invisible circle of protection drawn around the body with the hand, to remind one of being safe and loved even in the darkest times.
"STRONG"
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/strong_1192970
LYRICS/"Come as You Are", Nirvana
https://genius.com/Nirvana-come-as-you-are-lyrics
It's you ...
alone in a drenching rain floating
thoughts taking flight a wondrous
sight flowers staking hold stitched
in the fabric of your soul dripping
to the floor where the heavens met
your shore and that look I adore
eyes lost amongst the periwinkle
time stalls but the beads still fall
--where hope stands
--she paints her songs
on charts of stone skipped along
and the ripples remind you of me
It's me ...
hiding behind the sun in a place
I often run where shadows are friends
and comfort never ends or begins
to let me breathe the words falling
off the love trapped on my tongue
longing to be the one where beads
are only wrapped in promise rings
and a love letter necklace draping
dripping parchment notes in red
--until the end
--I'll bleed my songs
on charts of stone skipped along
and the ripples remind me of you
She’s a little girl abused in so many ways.
She knows for everything theirs a price she pays.
She doesn’t go where other children play.
So much lost.
So much at cost.
She’s berried with in her pleas.
Clothing tore to all degrees.
She runs to the church knowing everything he sees.
Maybe he can set her free.
Little girl on bended knees.
She can’t wash his smell away.
No matter how much she bathes.
Do you really have to love daddy this way.
Day by day she prays.
So many memories will prey.
She wishes they would just fade away.
In the bushes she hides.
Daddy is dead inside.
To god she will confide.
“God who will believe me?
Who will see?
Mom always said it was just me.
Now she has to see.”
Little girl on bended knees.
Her life is so hard in part.
Yet not compared to what she sacrifices in her heart.
He slices it up and rips it apart.
She wants to point blame
But lowers her head in shame.
God taking over this little soles hope
And his heart is breaking.
There is so much she is staking.
She raises her bloody hands high.
Deep down she wishes she could die.
But she made daddy finally say goodbye.
Six years old murdering daddy to finally be free.
Little girl on bended knees.
Does anyone consider my times of tribulation?
The waters of her oceanic figure guides me still
She leads me beside quiet streams of jubilation
Desolation is nowhere to be seen anymore, for she's a keeper of the radiant rivermill
For you and I to swim to in times of need, away from the adversary
For you and I to nourish our marvelous seed of serenity's sanctuary
Acknowledge my pain-staking regret, left unseen in most stranger's vacant eyes that hopelessly stare
I am left unstable on the table like a weeping infant, fighting life or death in reality's strange nightmare
You thrive on my sorrowful realm of thought that course inside me and I recognized that I needed to apologize because I ignored your cries
You're alive and I survived, so appreciate me for who I've become, not who I was before and we are significantly stronger than we realize
Reach out to adequately hopeful horizons,
Oh godly daughters and sons
And always remember without a trace of fear -
We will be rescued from the waters of Aphradere
As long as we have an incredible interlude
And an everlasting attitude of gratitude
Listen, she whispers in our dreams
As we almost fall away at the seams:
Remember me,
Remember me
Remember me always
For, the waters of Aphradere has reached its interlude…
She doesn't mean to intrude...she just wants to be understood
Listen, she whispers in our dreams
As we almost fall away at the seams:
Remember me,
Remember me
Remember me forevermore
She's the bittersweet rainstorm
That you abhor and adore
She's beyond the norm as she lays unnoticed like a puddle in your dorm…
Drowning in the waters of Aphradere
What's been lost has been lost for many a year
She wants to hold on to you and I oh so dear
To give us cheer, yet it's weighing us down with anxieties that draw near
She whispers steadily:
Remember me - that's my only plea -
As I spiral away and away
Into the drain speedily
Into the interlude of everyday's relief and dismay
Forget and forgive Aphradere's waters of shimmering shame
Give gladness, glory and honor to God's most gracious Name
Grief will not conquer us as long as our final outcome
Is to wait patiently for something bigger than us - His Kingdom
One day I will wake
and understand why
you left yourself behind
when you moved away
I find evidence
that you have
been in every room
It has been 11 months
since you ran away
from yourself
Today
your book is still turned over
forever resting
on the first page
of the tenth chapter
I wonder if you have
missed yourself yet
You left so many
of your things here
Like markers
staking a claim for you
in case you need evidence
to convince me
that almost a year
hasn't passed
In case you decide
to suddenly show up
and pretend you never left
In case I will play along
when you pick up
your book
and continue reading
where you left off
You are not really here...
So
why
haven't
you
gone
yet?
Planting words inside my garden,
watering them at will
Staking memories long forgotten,
feelings cold and shrill
Row by row the letters planted,
phrases start to grow
Whose cool fall day a harvest brings
—to feed the winter snows
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Part Two
SEVEN STARK WORDS
Seven alliterative blockbuster words struck so
they rhymed initially in juxta-positioning lineal parallels
pausing but in the fourth
to resume breath in the fifth
Leaving the interstitial morphemes in resonating ellipses
The economy of your parsing has wreaked havoc down the ages
in all trans-explicatory tongues
Tough-minded men come from afar
with other gods to serve
and sacrifices to make in the name of their Lords
bent your versification to limp rhyme
and left meaning a hung pursuit
in the hands of plagiarists professors preachers
who
not knowing nor divining the reason for your craftsman’s
concatenation of weighted phonemes
advanced theories for your elastic pregnant mind
strung myriads of pages in exegeses
each staking a claim to posterity
the villainous hanging on your lips
In a time devoid of papered learning for the poor
When to be born a Sudra or Pariah was a sin
When masters were those top-heavy manically-mantric Brahmin priests
Preying on the duped loyal sycophantic Vaishyas
wishing to earn karmic merit with their agricultural gain at their altar feet
such servant-financers as they by legions now lay their souls down
as even the long-gone royally leisure-dispensing Kshaktriyas
how would he who sought the spread of knowledge
not seek to encapsulate learning in mnemonic couplets
arranged according to rigid design
for those who could not count either
Ten fingers in the hand so
Ten the number of facets of a thought
a subject
a theme
even if theme subject thought were stretched too thin
Not long before I put down my dirt filled hoe
Into my yard she quietly crept
It’s as though she knew I needed her cheer
She was rust colored and sadly matted cat
Not the most attractive feline I’d ever seen
But she was lonely and hungry, and in need
Of course immediately my Mothering instinct beckoned
She followed me to where I poured some milk for her
Not ever having a cat I didn’t have cat food on hand-
So I opened a can of tuna to her delight
She lapped it up and looked up at me with a smile
The next day there she was waiting and the day after and so on
I had found a friend
So I went out and bought some cats food
She was now mine of at least I thought so
Who could have ever done such a thing?
Leaving her to the streets?
I bought her flea collar and bells to wear
Soon she would just sit on my lounge chair waiting for me
I had to bring her into the house she still looked so frail
One day while she was eating I noticed her choking on her food
It continued so I made an appointment to see the vet
It had to be done anyway after all she was to be mine
While we had our visit and the saddest moment of my life came
The doctor said she had throat cancer and it was advanced
Our friend Tabby didn’t but a few weeks to live
So my husband and I made the pain staking decision
To put her to sleep
Tears poured from every corner of my eyes
“No” was all I screamed inside she had brightened my life
How could someone have left her alone?
The Vet felt the previous owner knew about her condition
They left her to suffer knowing she was so sick
I felt we at least gave her 6 weeks of love and care before she left this place
I will never forget the love and championship this rusty feline gave me
Months later my family and I adopted another cat Tabby showed us-
The greatest love and companionship that animals give you unconditional
We now have two wonderful cats that were adopted
They bring so much to our lives