Best Stepping Down Poems
I saw truant clouds wading through late evening sky.
With sunset, they got dyed in varying shades,
Forming into configurations of differing shape and size!
Giants, mountains and raw bundles of fluffy wool,
To be woven into yet a hundred patterns.
Twilight shadows slowly began to fall,
Like gauzy gossamer webs here and there
Night came stepping down from the heights.
I heard the wind singing through the leaves.
Their sweet cadence lifted my moods.
From the forest, a nightingale echoed a happy note.
Crickets in chorus chanted in sonorous tones.
As I looked on, from creamy cotton clouds,
Full moon emerged like a seductive temptress.
What a majestic sight of incomparable beauty!
Stars were seen as silver sequences stitched on,
An unfurling cerulean veil of chiffon silk.
I felt so weightless, being lifted to great heights.
As I lost myself in the irresistible charm of the night,
A thousand butterflies of joy danced within me.
All the little bunnies were lined up for a race. Why, you may ask?
Because the dear old Leader Bunny was stepping down with grace.
He had led the others for years without disgrace, in all pursuits.
He was their advisor, friend, and confidant... solver of disputes.
Such a lofty position was dearly sought by all…from all around.
But he could pick only one to wear that lofty, wonderful crown.
So a race was determined to quickly resolve, the question therein.
And a lovely little laurel crown was offered, to the one who did win.
Now many strategies to win emerged from within the race.
The most common was the notion to set the fastest pace…
A few would use tricks that might hurt, in order to slow others down.
A few were mean, for they wanted the power that comes with the crown.
Two were clever and would catapult each other at the very end.
A few just practiced running to gain the added stamina needed to win.
Only one little rabbit found shoes for the poor, for it was a rocky trail.
And when the race began he helped those hurt in the prevail.
Now the dear old leader had never actually worn a laurel crown.
His had been symbolic; his works had brought him his renown.
When the Leader Bunny gave the laurel crown to he who won the race…
Only a few were surprised, when the little helper won the Leader’s grace…
Though some would go on to complain because he had come in last…
It truly takes someone who knows how to serve, to lead and guide the rest.
But my moral to this story is that…. Regardless what some may think…
It takes compassion to correctly lead…and sometimes the last can be the best…
I look in your eyes and my heart breaks.
How will I remove you from my mind?
I would Never have imagined such pain.
How will I Love with this broken heart.
You have made me this shell of a man.
I can not explain the way I feel
I know I will never love again.
Read first word first line
Second word second line
Third word third line
Forth word fourth line
Fifth word fifth line
Sixth word sixth line
Seventh word Seventh line
Nine Sylables per line including understepping line
I would like to call this form Understepping because
of the underlying message stepping down with each line..
Here we have a poem within a poem.
The Queen of the Screw Up's! That would be me!
I wear that crown With the greatest of ease!
So, bow down people, show some respect.
To the most majestic screw up, you will never forget.
I screw up everything, that is ample.
Take my bank account, for example
In the negative it always stays.
I screw that up everyday.
Bills pile up they never get paid
Ignoring them wishing they would go away
Electricity, water, credit card statements pile up in a high-rise
My credit score is lower than my shoe size
Relationships are destroyed and broken,
leaving with no apologies spoken.
It’s not easy being queen, I had to earn that crown,
and I don’t plan on stepping down.
So, All hail her royal Highness and kneel before me,
who screws things up to the third degree .
Date:03/03/2019
Contest Name: Make me actually LOL 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
I've been doing my current job for 32 years; lots of travel, places and people. A few memories stick out; my own Book of Hours, it would be almost one per year.
The first job I was on was Four Corners Power Plant, near Farmington, New Mexico, on Navajo Nation land, where the turbines brought electricity to the people, and the smokestacks brought death to the indigo plants in the area. Shiprock, the volcanic mountain, stands to the west. I was working the nightshift, and one day went to see it. After sleeping in the morning, I drove west along US Highway 64, toward the mountain. On the way, I passed a slower moving vehicle, a red pickup truck with lots of people in it, four in the cab, five or six sitting in the back. Locals, Native Americans, Navajos.
The mountain was superb in shadowed relief as the afternoon sun went lower. I got good pictures in the clear air, under nothing but blue sky. At 8 p.m. I'd have to be back in to work, so the time came to return east toward the hotel. After a few miles there were flashing lights in the distance; as I got closer I saw they were Navajo Tribal Police vehicles.
There had been an accident - the pickup truck I had passed had run off the road. It was where the highway went through a cut in the hills, red rock walls rising on either side, red sand and dust below. Bodies wrapped in white sheets, out of place against the red; blindingly white, impossibly white, shouldn't be.
I drove past the scene very slowly, and now I don't know if the three Navajo Police officers were moving or not. I see them standing stone still, burdened, slightly bent over, heads looking at the ground, with that big, beautiful blue sky above them. Shock and sadness stepping down from above, grief being born. Navajos are quiet mourners, and I wonder if in the great cycle of all things, of which death is a part, the spirits were then walking away, softly, across their hearts. Law enforcement is no stranger to traffic accidents, and tragic loss of life is sometimes seen, but this was more - this was their people.
Clicked on the news cause I wanted to say
what kind of stuff is happening today
Boehner's stepping down
The Pope has left town
And Santa is soon in his sleigh
Mazsi the cat was strolling one night,
when came down the road, a most curious sight.
A yellow striped cat with a jazzy coat,
big brimmed hat, bow tie ‘round his throat.
Mazsi had to smile at such a silly sight,
this striped yellow cat, thought he looked just right.
Twirling a gold chain in his right paw,
stepping down the street, waving at kittens he saw.
He walked up to Mazsi and gave her a look,
then all over his body he shook and shook.
“Well lookey here at what I see,
if you’re not the prettiest kitty there be.”
Mazsi gave him a look and said to him,
“You’re the kookiest cat from shoe to brim.”
That jazzy cat was taken aback,
how could this kitty, him attack.
“Come now kitty, surely you can see,
I’m the coolest cat, there ever will be.
Come join me tonight and let down your hair,
you and I can be a shmizally pair.”
“With you by my side we can dancel all night,
you and me such a jazzical sight.
It’s down to the dance hall for a special affair,
all of the hipsters and swingers are there.”
Mazsi was curious and would like to party,
but this crazy cats’ brain, seemed a bit tardy.
“I know you think you’re quite hip,
but on my radar you’re just a blip.”
Cool Cat begged, “Come on, you kittiest of cats,
I dressed for the night, right down to my spats.
Take my paw and I’ll show you the town,
we’ll swing and dance till the moon goes down.”
Mazsi took his paw and right was he,
he showed her the most fun there ever could be.
Down at the Dance Hall a crowd had formed,
under the moonlight the night was transformed.
Cats of all colors were dancing to jazz,
laughing and singing with pizzazz.
Hubba hubba and root toot toot,
across the dance floor the two did scoot.
The moon sank low and music got slow,
everyone knew it was time to go.
Mazsi and Cool Cat had stolen the show,
won the trophy, Mazsi and her new beau.
Robert G Stoner Jr ©
What child is this?
Stepping down to a semi dark tavern
with an empty bottle at the age of five
to be filled with ruby red wine,
fascinated by farmers sitting
at a rustic table, darkened by time
laughing and eating through
thick mustaches, perfect teeth,
smelling of garlic and wine?
Sitting in a bus and being startled
by a woman gone berserk
on hearing little traveler was alone
on her way to visit grandma
on the Trevico mountain.
Little did she know smarty was a regular!
And the locked farm gate, little spider climbed
and opened from inside?
What child is this? A much loved child
by a lioness mother and a father who,
when teacher said she couldn’t handle English,
he answered: “She can do anything!”
First Place: L Milton Hankins-Story From Your Childhood-12/10/20
Second Place: Craig Cornish-What child Is This-10/18/17
Famous Last Line
ORIGINAL POEM
(Loveliness ---Acrostic)
L~etting out a gasp, the young man stared at the pretty face.
O~pening the curtains, he noticed a
V~evil covering the beautiful
E~nearing visage of a young
L~ady who sat upon purple velvet cushions.
I~nite resting was the decor of the patterned interior of
N~eedlework with gold and purple threads.
E~nursing that the horses were well fastened, the footman
S~lid some cushioned steps before the carriage doors;
S~o that this adorable lady may step down. How gorgeous she looked!
NEW POEM
Famous Last Line:
"So that this adorable lady may step down. How gorgeous she looked"!
(Romanticism)
An adorable lady stepping down from the carriage,
How gorgeously stunning she looked!
Mesmerized and in awe, dumfounded and tongue-tied,
The young man stood as though in a trance.
As is the custom of the 1300s, it was "proper" for
This lady to wear a veil over her beautiful face.
Sid, the love-afflicted well clad gent,
Was determine in becoming the lady's beau.
The Footman having gone for a stroll,
And exquisite stores being opened to peruse,
The lady shopped to her heart's content;
Thus leaving Miss Antasia to carry her parcels.
Seizing the opportunity, the elegant gent
Gallantly stepped forward and offered to help.
Eying him under long lashes, esh curtesied as he bowed;
And allowed him to take the parcels out of her hand.
The carriage doors now locked gave Sid the chance,
To woo this sweet lady in becoming his bride.
What a romance was this tetetet, listening to words,
As Sid leaned against the carriage ardently serenating this maid.
He learnt her name, where she lived and how important her family was.
She in turn found out he was a banker and owned almost half of the towne.
Soon the families were merged, and formed a lasting business bond for all.
These were the days of Romanticism, the American way of yesteryear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Famous Last Line - Poetry Contest
Poem Title: Famous Last Line.
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Contest Deadline:
3/26/2016 at 12:00:00 AM
Instruction: "Please include your original entry, followed by your new entry."
Prose coming down verse knocking verse everywhere
Without a hair to care around
Cars parked on Boulevard drive never learned
Can't propel myself dispite my write
Flowers in the wind
Nourishing reads my kin
Poetics be my gin
Stop and stepping down falling first
Getting up in time for supp
Prose coming down
Verse knocking verse everywhere
Without a hair to care around
Marks nonsense you can not see
A ray of light within the muck HOLIDAYS
Drive my truck not one
Curse it got stuck
Driving academy needs
GOING
Dangerous places turning pages
Numbering yearning alphabet churning A to Z
My writes agree my pain do bleed stops and
Starts
Words that go no punctuation ALLOWED
Be not proud
For poets dreams poets streams a
Mockery for poets scans a wasteland
Of prose and frightful verse
A free for all fall from GRACE a simple
Face a constant RACE through time
But
Poetry my only kin my skin be thin as
Gin poetry my only kin
Intoxicating language bedevils
Blessings be
Here I am
Just as myself
Never stepping down
Always in leadership
And I refuse to wear a frown
I’ve fluttered up from the bottom
Released my pessimistic views
Like a dove with broken wings
They have healed,
And away I flew
I can’t be broken down
You will see me as a whole
The pieces held together
By my family pure as gold
I work to make my living
Sometimes it is so tough
But I wouldn’t change a second
What is life without love?
In the place that I live
Not the nicest
Far from best
But we are working our way up
My family’s stronger than the rest
Don’t take me as a bragger
But my confidence is firm
If I can make it through a tragedy
Then surely,
I can make it through a storm
-Miranda Lambert-
*free verse
The lessons in nature
prove to be far wiser
than the intelligence of man.
Observing three kit squirrels
now, almost the size of the parents,
time has come for them to be on their own.
They nested early
as it was a March early spring
and now the nest deteriorates.
The parents,
perhaps ready and eager
for producing a second brood.
Stepping away from the nesting area
taking one kit at a time,
enticing and encouraging as it eagerly follows,
The kits are reluctant and unsteady,
stepping down the tree,
slipping on the pointed tips of the stocade fence.
Each time, the parent watches, waits,
returns and chides the kit
but still, it hangs back and hesitates.
Then with patience still,
the parent returns
with just a light nip on the rump
and they are gladly on their way.
Stepping down from the AC coach
on to the railway platform
A hot wave of salty moist air
drenches me
On my customary visit
to this city I'm tethered to
by my memories..
She coyly calls herself Chennai
like a new bride renamed
in her husband's home
At heart though she is still Madras
and to the likes of me ;
It's a relief to slip into my mother tongue
to bargain with the auto walla
after mouthing words for months together
in an alien tongue..
We slice through the dense traffic
As I nod distractedly
to the driver's political soliloquy
While my eyes search for familiar landmarks
that were part of my youth
Moore market
Poppat Jamal
Saphire theatre
Gemini flyover;
the city rushes by
a phantasmagoria of urban scenes
until the fragrance of panneer roses
attack my nostrils
as I watch flower sellers
deftly spinning silver threads
around thick rose garlands...
The milling crowd at Pondy Bazaar
with women shopping tirelessly
for jewels, sarees and utensils..
Saravana bhavan coming to the rescue
of their cravings
for sambhar vada or bhelpuri....
I quickly make a mental list
of goods to take back when I return--
Coffee powder
baby mangoes
mor milagai
ambika appalam
not to forget
a visit to the Naidu Hall..
The bottle neck at Panagal park
a hub for matrimonial shopping
slows down my journey,
then a familiar slide down
the doraiswamy subway
and a furlong along the railway tracks
I alight in mambalam
where my mother awaits with open arms;
A week's time for me
to imbibe the city's moods..
to gaze at cawing ravens on neem trees
to discuss the story line of soaps on TV
to inhale the simple aromas of brahmin meals
Before I bid farewell to it temporarily
I remember when Alexander of Macaedon
approached me in Siwa as a supplicant soldier,
he was so young yet so wet with war blood
32 years old and the most powerful king on the planet,
Alex entered my chamber unarmed and unassuming
he was rather like a boy unbruised by fear,
everything in the world was at his command
but there were questions that he alone could not conquer,
he did indeed ask me, about his family tree
whether he descended rightly, from godly seed,
I arose from my seer's seat
my silken green and gold gown
hugging my body thickly off the shoulders,
stepping down deftly to meet his rare eyes,
we stood face to face
like two fires fuelled by eachother's breaths,
I told him to give me his hand
to which he did
because he knew to trust me,
I unsheathed a tiny dagger
that I kept against my stomach
and sliced his fingertip remorselessly
we smiled at one another,
gripping his hand tightly
I brang his finger to my mouth
as the blood dribbled quickly down to both our hands,
the taste made me close my eyes
I was in instant ecstasy,
I knew now what he thought he knew,
and I told him he was not the first nor the last
that another king shall come in the future
whom will complete the Holy Kingdom...
J.A.B.
I SAW YOU LOOKING AT ME
The screech of door
Rush of men and women
Languorous over gin and tonic
Stepping down the ladder
Unannoyed at sharpened blade
Of turmoils of yester and morrows .
Dispassinonate I sun
My numb heart
Then I saw you looking at me
In the murmur of monsoon rain
With eyes sappaire crystals .