Best Strictest Poems
Sahara the world's largest - the strictest and warmest desert
It is an ocean without water - a place of fear blast knuckles on the desert floor
Eight nomads on camels shrouded in white cloth - only the eyes are visible
How can they find their way in a landscape without trails - no horizon
Once again the sun set - the camels will create nearly invisible tracks in the sand
The sand dunes are changing during the day
Experience the unusual beauty and exotic charm
There is so much that amazes and impresses
The hot sand is like flour and make the sky yellow misty and foggy solar disk
And the air quivers with intense heat - sand glistens in wonderful colors
15.09.2014
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Contest Name : IN THE DESERT
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Deadline: 10/14/2014
- Thank you for my 7th place in the contest -
Marry Your Best Friend To Get the Best of Both Worlds
Not many can claim they met their spouse in a battle of wits
much less the fabled (don't believe a word of it!) Internet.
But my uncle, he's not many. And my new aunt? Well she's a keeper.
And it wasn't love like a summer fling --- but it goes much deeper.
The rumors you heard - it's all too true - they met on Online Scrabble:
sesquipedalians by heart, but in the strictest sense, true Word Warriors.
Her last turn was an "I Do"... and when it came, he knew that he was done for:
pussyfooting through the back door, the tenacious Triple Word Score.
The date was planned - his bachelorhood canned. Compensated on Christmas day,
a wifie from Wales to tie the knot with my uncle the Stud from the Spud State.
The Red Dragon Damsel flew in (too strong to be distressed) into my uncle's country life.
(I still remember his clenched fists pouring buckets at the altar ... his first love)
And she brought her little Dragoness, too --- a fiery spark named Emily.
My job was to walk my new British cousin down the aisle,
as she whispered to me, "Should we link arms?"
And though I should have said, "What's the harm?"
instead of a rather robotic canter --- it now brings a smile.
My lovely Aunt Laura wore an eggplant dress, as if too challenge the mountain majesty
that peaked through the church window of that fine Idahoan morn.
Her glorious entry introduced by a Celtic song that would have made Enya weep,
as the vertigo of vows came to a close like a caged bird being released.
Mariah Carey's famous Christmas hit took to life --- All I Want Is You, rang true,
as they took each other's arms to dance celebrating an unlikely circumstance.
Crossing oceans to become One: she from Barry, and he from Boise.
The After Party --- filled with giggles, tears and rip-roaring stories from every point of view.
The wedding cake (believe it or not) was a Scrabble board:
one slice was Congratulations - and though a bit silly, to me it was poetry.
And my uncle - you could tell - was simply dumbfounded
as she took the words right out of his mouth
... with a crumb-filled smooch.
Written February 27th, 2016.
For the My Wedding Day Is Special Because... hosted by Olive Eloisa Guillermo
NOTE: I've never been married before, so I hope writing about my uncle's wedding instead is acceptable.
Floating fluttering fleurs
are jewels in fuchsia and magenta
transmuting into taffy hue
with the kiss of dappled sunlight
like her cheeks that blush in pink
with his wondering wink.
The willows are stalactites
seducing newly bloomed nympheas
slumbering in Egyptian blue water
like her shaggy windswept hair
teasing her beloved's face
beneath the dancing moonlight.
Oh, Monet,
your 'en plein air' emphyrean elegance
awakens my sacrosanct senses
as I envisage a Filbert brush
glazing each pearly petal
highlighting sun's luster
on emerald to lime leaves,
on cyan to admiral water,
reflecting cerulean sky
in consummate chiaroscuro.
7 April 2022
A Briand Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
8th place
Notes:
In 1893, Monet, a passionate horticulturist, purchased land with a pond near his property in Giverny, intending to build something "for the pleasure of the eye and also for motifs to paint." The Water Lilies is a 1919 painting by impressionist Claude Monet, one of his Water Lilies series. The painting, the left hand panel of a large pair, depicts a scene in Monet's French pond showing light reflecting off the water with water lilies on the surface.
(www.metmuseum.org)
*plein-air painting, in its strictest sense, the practice of painting landscape pictures out-of-doors; more loosely, the achievement of an intense impression of the open air (French: plein air) in a landscape painting(www.britannica.com).
Since my birth time has been pesent, fluid, tapping its flat feet in the shadows
Clueless was I as to its definition, or what its relevance was to life
Yet, I recall the joy of rainy days free of grown- up worry and strife
Being quite shy, I'd daydream; gazing blue skies and hanging out windows
Then suddenly, I turned and things changed! And I came to face the culprit
Time! It made me abandon my childhood; I was forced to leave behind my toys
Only Christmas celebrations and story books seem to bring me endless joy!
How I'd brood over doing homework of subjects I found non-descript!
In hindsight, all life meets Time on its terms, as it is, "The Ageless Wonder"!
Forever moving; impervious to class or stature; faster now, and I'm in a daze!
A consummate stalker it is, yet, leaving definite trails on each face!
'Is Time charged to monitor dreams'? Is a question I often ponder
I imagine, at creation Time stood as the key which opens and shuts all doors!
Seemingly built into all God's creatures maintaining order and strictest balance
Time was and has been a true instrument of God’s awesome power and prevalence
In a world where egos are gigantic and many want their share and more
London’s Guildhall, John Lilburne is frogmarched in
A man Cromwell considered a friend,
To stand before him accused of high treason
His actions against parliament to defend
As radical leader of the ‘Levellers’
John opposed Parliament fervently,
With his clandestine printing network
Speaking out of its tyranny;
Power, John Lilburne argued
Belonged with the common man,
His pamphlet ‘Agreement of the People’
Defined how, in the ‘Levellers Plan’.
In ‘England’s New Chains Discovered’
He urged soldiers and citizens, ‘unite-
Reject the rule of the Grandees!’
He was arrested and charged with mutinous incite.
Cromwell brought him to the Guildhall
Amid the strictest security
Troubled his trial would cause civil unrest,
Such was John’s popularity
Although eventually acquitted and exiled
He lived the rest of his life a marked man,
And our constitution, today, owes its birth
To the ideals of his ‘Levellers Plan’.
I want to write a poem about control
When you think you are in control
That is when you lose control
Life has the opposite effects
When you think you have it
is when you don't
It will be pulled from under you
Because there is only one Ruler
One Controller
Anything than that
will be knocked down
torn down
And leave to pieces
You sure don't want to be the one to pick up the pieces, do you?
Me neither
So don't force me or anyone to make the executive decision
Either knowingly or unknowingly
Of assuring that the Almighty always has the strictest control
Which is the only control
Of all
Why do you think we change?
Why do you think there is disorder
chaos, uncertainty...?
To make sure that we don't rule
To make sure that we know
who is the Ruler of us all
So do you think you have control?
Well, I remember my Mom as the Iron lady forever
I fear no more her strictest rules
I am now back on stage with this clerihew
I was a victim of the Iron lady's strictest rules
Probably herself has forgotten but me I can remember
I remember those days when there was no human rights:
She will call me peacefully as if everything is fine_
Just know that it's whip's time if I misbehaved at some point
In our home she had collection of different whips
This is funny truths
Sometimes, she will instruct my friends and siblings to catch me
Who will give me a good chase but caught and be brought to receive verdict
When my friends and siblings start laughing she will shut them up and threaten to beat them all
When Dad is off from work as a miner, she would compile all difficult cases, and hand them to Dad the High Court Judge, who didn't want any advocate to stand in between_
More terrible beatings
It was judgement day
That has made me a responsible person in society
I remember those days
I will be beaten to the extent of regretting of being her child
To a point I start questioning if she is my Mom
To a point when you hope to go with visitors to their homes
Or offering prayers that visitors stay longer
I remember those days,
When she beat me mercilessly, I started repenting of my misdeeds.
Sometimes she will pretend not to be upset , then she will like" go and bring me a plate in the house, then she will follow me in the house with a whip".
This has been my story
I am speechless on this topic
My Mom was good on how to give a sharp look and slap
The eye of an Eagle was enough for me to detect trouble even before calamity
The Lord bless and keep amazing citizenry like Mothers
P.S:
Mom raised a kindhearted, warm , compassionate, understanding son towards humanity_
Both my parents were not just harsh but had a peak of humanitarian traits to humanity_
My parents owes me the best of my life_
May good health, strength and long life be bestowed upon me
By Chipepo Lwele
* In remembrance of childhood
Someone perusing all the lines I penned
before this century would surely think
I must have signed a contract to produce
just poems with the strictest rhyming schemes!
It seemed my mind was programmed to create
rhymed couplets or a-b-c-b quatrains.
I asked myself then, “Must you always rhyme?
If so, you could at least try other styles.”
Because I’d always liked to read blank verse,
I vowed I’d take the plunge and write some too!
I love the partial freedom it affords.
While rhyming’s not included, meter is—
those five iambic feet I so adore.
April 5, 2023
for the Simply Poetry 2 Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
Jimmy warned Pinks of her dangerous inclinations
of chugging too close to the capricious edge, but she kept laughing
and refused to listen until she skid and bounced down the hill.
Jimmy retrieved her in an unrecognisable state with a torn coat,
ripped pinafore and a muddy face, ready to be brandished
by her strictest paternal Aunt-a Betsy Trotwood of sorts!
The six year old whimpered and babbled, wiping her tears,
"A big black bear had been chasing us, so we ran down the hill".
"Why down hill?" "Because his long hair covers his eyes and then he can't see.
So while chasing us he got blind and rolled like a football and drowned
in the big ravine below". Aunt held back her smile, "But Jimmy's clothes aren't torn?"
Pinks beamed, "He's a boy, and strong boy's clothes don't tear!"
The next day they climbed a ladder leading to the forbidden roof where
Aunt had kept her red chillies to dry, it being a warm sunny day. When she returned
from the market, she was shocked to see her miscreants and carried the ladder away.
"Aunt dear, please listen, the monkeys were eating the chillies, so we........................."
May 16, 2016
For Casarah Nance
glad you forgave me
thanks so much for the wine--gee
it sure tastes funny
princess who smooched prince
morphed into a--ribbit--frog
magic gone awry
thanks for listening
just needing some good advice--
pastor, you still there?
birthday girl age three
waist deep in expensive gifts
plays with bags and bows
big bright birthday bash
gifts cake punch games raging blaze
ninety five candles
These may not meet the strictest standards for senryu!
May 28, 2018--not for a contest
Always beautiful, certainly Donna,
She has been through hell and back.
Always the fighter, never giving up,
Prepared for any kind of attack.
She’s sensitive, kind-hearted, and very loving,
But don’t find yourself making the mistake
Of taking her kindness for a weakness.
She has the venom of a rattlesnake.
She’s made some bad decisions in her past…
Hey, haven’t we all done the same?
I have forgiven her for everything
And her character I will not defame.
She was hard on me growing up;
She was the strictest mama on the block.
But she instilled morals and values within me
And from her, I did learn a lot.
Discipline was her forte; oh she was mean.
Man, how I hated it back in the day!
As an adult, I understand its importance,
So I teach my daughter a similar way.
She has always been there despite it all.
She’s been there every time I needed.
She always gives advice, wanted or not
And continues even when it isn’t heeded.
She’s dark and lovely with brown eyes
And she possesses an hourglass shape.
Her beauty is rare and can’t be compared;
I can see how some women can hate.
I appreciate my mother and hope she lives forever.
She has blossomed into an awesome woman.
This poem is dedicated to a fabulous lady,
My pretty mother named Donna Grogan.
Pray before you're being prayed
Learn before you're caught ignorant
Do good and you'll be repaid good
Do bad and you'll got the lesson
What's behind a religion
Now people are making use of
A religion's loophole
To escape
They do bad to be saved
They do bad to ask for mercy
They always repent too late
Only when they are caught
Come to me and you'll be saved
A helping hand stretched
But you must do your part in advance
You must learn beforehand
You must practise what you've learned
You must be careful
You must do your best
Before you hand yourself to God
God only help those who help themselves
Come to me and you'll be saved
If not physically, materialistically
Then spiritually
But no amnesty in law sometimes
People only repent
And realize
A minute
Just before they're to be punished
If ever saved
I thought
They're saved spiritually
But not from the law physically
Law is said to be the fairest
But the strictest
Dislike and Hate
I’ve learned of the difference
Between dislike and hate
When one takes your heart
There is little debate
Dislike is for people
Who don’t pull their weight
They’re lazy and self centered
But they are a long way from hate
Hate is for people
Who could hurt an innocent child
Who should be punished
With the strictest laws allowed
For these are some people
Who destroy this great land
Who cause the suffering of others
At their evil hands
I’ve always been taught
To never feel hate
But when it comes to these people
There is little debate
Blunt brain such stale dogma holds
Tighter than crags hug dewy molds;
She spurns sparks Reason confers,
And terms sanest wit profitless fuss.
Sweetest rank her outmoded views,
Above strictest sense and full clues;
Cherished most within inured cloud
Are her trite thought frail and proud.
Proffer sure-shining cachings of gold
For faintest morsel of heresies retold,
And she'll a more precious jewel find
Brighter still under Diablo's airier rind.
Her creed says receive and cede not
Wild bootless notions simpletons got;
Let benevolent Logic his carats keep,
And her inane whims have their leap.
Her wild treasures heavier than lead
Shall endless grace that jaded head,
Until wilier ticks of blind-mute clocks
Hit Eternal Proof that sees and talks.
The hosts of Heaven wept
The Father held His ground
The Saviour hung in shame
With coarseness all around
The crowd saw only loss
Disciples hid from view
A Mother watched her dreams
Dismissed like morning dew.
And all the Man had said
And all that He had done
Could not prevent the hate
That stopped a mid-day’s sun
He begged on our behalf
That light would come, and soon
And mercy for our crimes
This great Plan to atone.
Now I have heard the tale
And I have sensed my debt
And I have mourned this Cross
Still, I am hopeful yet.
Just as a priest of old
By strictest ways and means
Christ bore me on His heart
And I am rendered clean.
I cannot comprehend
‘Twas me for whom he died
But at Redemption’s end
His pain, full satisfied.