Best Sufficiently Poems
We see ourselves unimpeded initially
Some are stricken with a view artificially
We are told by others very specifically
There is a ceiling so proceed timidly
We try in vain with no support futilely
As we age blazing the path dizzily
Sometimes we see the results dismally
Eventually we learn to climb skillfully
We began to achieve sufficiently
Eventually finding success brilliantly
Living life with dreams so vividly
Sadly, a haunting voice still speaks flippantly
Reminding us of the ceiling frigidly
We remain in the arena mistily
Each overcautious step taken judicially
We endure the voice shouting viciously
The battle to continue is done willfully
There
Your hand
That exquisite, sexy little hand
I reach, oh so slowly
My index finger extended lazily
But with enigmatic intent and subtle grace
(Like Michelangelo's Adam on the Sistine Chapel ceiling ...
Desperate for the touch of God)
I softly touch your thumb, and there is an electric shiver
Not static or reaction or even a spark
But rather the gentlest of vibrations of skin rubbing skin
The hairs on the back of your hand stand up
And I know, when you don't pull away
That you like what I'm doing ... that I can continue
I increase my pressure just slightly, and slide
Running my finger along the soft inside of your thumb
Up and over the tip, pausing playfully at your bright pink, shiny nail
Then down the inside slant to the fleshy notch there
I run my fingertip tenderly back-and-forth
(With a similar motion and intent that I hope to use in more secret places)
Then I push it slowly into the space below
And you turn over your hand, palm up
The ends of your fingers tremble and quiver
And I know you're anticipating me ...
Wondering what is next ...
I pause for a moment, to let your mind spin
Then I trace around the edges, up and over each finger
Down between the spaces, pressing on the warm skin that connects them
And when I reach the base of your pinky
I softly, slowly, tenderly, with the care of a first kiss
Work my fingertip to the sublime soft-center of your palm
First making tiny circles there
And then writing sexy words in cursive
Writing in love's language the things we'll soon be doing ... together
As a final touch, I withdraw my hand and put my finger gently in my mouth
When it's sufficiently moistened and shiny
I return it slowly to your palm
And make a final, sweet, small, sexy circle of wet ...
The period to the torrid tale I've written there
The story of what we'll soon be sharing
In soft, silky skin and sighs ...
And moonlight.
Submitted on May 1, 2020
To the "Strand No 740, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest
Brian Strand, Sponsor.
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S un sits dazzlingly on its golden throne
U psurging plumes on the horizon in various tints of rose
N uminous gleam foretells tomorrow’s blissful dawn
S piritual grace sufficiently suffices my soul
E ffusion of a fiery love, hope and promises ripple
T owards me, its whole magnified reflection on water tickles
©2012Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Aug. 6, 2015 12.20pm
First Place
Contest: The Answer
Judged: 8/17/2015
Sponsor: My loving poetess, sis and friend, Skat
The drivers of my journey bring me to here,
somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow,
alive, leaving a trail of blame, pain, shame,
accountability, restitution and change.
Living life with less selfishness and self-will,
sufficiently provides all daily needs.
Driven by free choice, fate and faith to an unknown
future - I'll arrive on time - I'll be okay.
July 4, 2018
Eight Lines of Fate... Contest by Silent One
Second Place
I remember a riding pony I had as a lad which was born blind. A filly she was born during an
Arkansas blizzard and we did not know that she was blind at first for we kept our horses in our
barn for several days because of the winter storm. We all had fallen in love with her by the time
we learned she was blind and could not bear to put her down. I remember training her to ride
after she was mature enough and I named her “Pet” for she was my riding pony.
We spent many happy days together riding inside the green pastures.
I remember she never refused to let me ride her even the first time. And she learned very
quickly to respond to my voice and she trusted in every command that I gave her.
I would say, “easy Pet” when we would come to rough terrain or an eroded ditch in the
pasture. She would slow to a careful walk, in response to my voice.
I would ride her down into the lower part of the pasture to the creek in hottest part of the day.
Pet could of course smell the water and when she would come near the bank of the creek I
would again say, “easy Pet” and she would respond by slowing to a snail’s pace down the steep
bank.
Pet would wade out about belly depth into the water where she would drink her fill of the cool
clear water. And I would use her back as a diving board launch and swim to my heart’s delight.
After she was through drinking I would climb on her back again and give her head to her and
she would trot to the barn where she knew I would give her treats, such as carrots, apples,
sugar cubes and so on.
I remember I never did have the heart to make her run full speed as
I supposed that her blindness was burden enough in her life for her to bear.
It is said of truth that one gets to keep in heaven those things of this life that were loved sufficiently.
I know that my beloved Pet shall be my precious playmate again in the heavenly ethereal of the Spirit.
Pet lives on even now in the depths of my childhood memories. Her loving low neighs as she
approached me by smell, and her nuzzles into my pocket for the sugar cubes she knew would
always be there for her. In heaven I shall see my Pet again, and this time she will see me,
maybe for the first time.
For and in honor of Carol Brown
and Contest.
Fingers linger
Thoughts flying everywhere and
Stumble
Crumble
What was I thinking, where does this
word come from
How is it written
How come that in my head thousands of lines tumble
And not a word leaves my fingers
My thoughts fumble
What was I thinking, I cannot do this
They said I could never do this
Gather my thoughts sufficiently
Succinctly
Talk without stutter or tics
Don't they know my thoughts are racing
RAGING
Myriads images are playing
Hide and seek:
Come catch us!
Incapacitation feeds determination
Nothing will ever be easy anymore
Better be prepared boy and write your poems
Ride your wheels
Stop speaking with your mouth
To begin with you were too loud
Anyway!
Let your hands talk for you
Even if it takes your brain a while
To make your fingers type that smile
It isn't courage that you lack,
So work, and don't look back!
Just believe you will still be here
When I will be here too.
That I will heal sufficiently,
To see you come right back to me.
I want to be with you.
Don't leave me all alone, I fear
A life without your laugh.
I want us wheeze in unison,
No end while we have just begun...
I know, I am no seer.
Nor am I healer, or confessor,
I'm just this loving kid,
That crossed your path one day,
No bigger, but smaller, lesser.
Had no idea we'd fit
Like fingers in a glove.
Please say:
"I'll be here when you return,
I'll stroke your back, I'll kiss you,
I'll be here because I yearn,
Because I love...
I love you".
Just believe you will still be here,
Because you want to be with me.
I'll smoothe the creases in your brow,
Wipe away your fear.
If only please...
Promise you will be here,
That when I wake you'll be near.
My virtual arms can hold us,
We both fit there so nicely,
Be here, for you, for me.
***
March 21, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
What is to become of me?
I feel the warmth of your pulse
As my blood turns cold and I
Slip the bonds of this Earthly life
Where both pride and ridicule
Followed me home like a lost
Puppy. I have never been
Rewarded for the good works
I have performed but then again,
I've never sufficiently suffered for
My many transgressions. Such is
The vain nature of our existence
As perfection and hubris do their
Dance. As I shed my tired corpse...
I give thought to the afterlife.
Will I be greeted by those lost
To the old black and white photos
Of my adolescence? Will I swoon
With a long forgotten High School
Crush as we dangle our toes in
The waters of our youth? Will I
Feel my Mother's touch and gaze
into the eyes I remember with
Every fervor of my soul? Will she
Be pleased with the Man she has
Raised? Will I feel the warmth of
The Son on my face? Or will my
Molecules just waltz with others
Through an uncaring Universe
Intent on mischief and roguery
While riding the wave of some
Minimal existence at the speed
Of light? Or will the flames of a
Vengeful deity consume me for
The purpose of providing some
Vestige of job security for the
Demons of the underworld? Or
Has life been a opened box of
Cracker Jacks with no prize at
The end? I don't think so... but
I have no proprietary information
On the subject. The waiting is
Almost too hard to bear. So off I
Go into the great unknown. I am
Hopeful and pragmatic. But I am
Ready... Let the journey begin.
The End
*As with so many of you, I have been feeling the weight
of my own mortality lately.
*To those who may be interested, I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day or so.
I have a toddler who loves to play
Pretend – imaginary friend, make-believe
She pierces my heart with her adventures
Into the fantasy land of dinosaurs,
Dungeons and dragons, long lost voyages
With pirates and princes – feeling
Invincible, indestructible, unshakable
Like she has the tiger by the tail
And is sure to always win in the end
I’m still in college and this toddler of mine
She gives me a healthy dose of jeopardy
To help me see the thrills in this life
Now I try to do my homework,
While she colors, paints or plays
With a wad of Play dough in hues
Of vivid and brilliant scarlet or sapphire
I was doing homework one morning
As she colored there by my feet
And I decided she needed a sippy cup
Of cranberry juice to sufficiently be
Prepared for her day of fictitious ideas
As I finished up my homework
And headed out to the kitchen
I noticed her pterodactyl there beside her
When I came back from the kitchen
Handing her the sippy cup with the juice
She smiled and handed me a torn up paper
The homework I’d just prepared that day
As she giggled, “pterodactyl ate it, Mommy”
In spite of my shaking head, I laughed
And began to rewrite the page that
A flaming pterodactyl had eaten
...and then a flaming pterodactyl ate my homework Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John lawless
January 19, 2021
“Life --- commenced by God’s love, with soul quickened through His grace, spirit revived in His strength, faith buttressed upon His truth --- abides forever worshipful.” Poet (Beata B. Agustin)
Guilty, devoid of own righteousness in God’s sight
Condemned to hell’s wrath, my soul was transgression-slain
Yet, the Lord reached out to me from His lofty height
Offering compassion of eternal life gain.
Hopelessly perishing, but now redeemed by grace
My spirit praises the Saviour with grateful glow
Exalting His holy name upon Scriptures' brace
While serving in His ministry of blessings’ flow.
Receiver of love’s opulence midst pardon seal
My heart rejoiced for gift that was sacrifice-priced
Such did ransom me from sin torturous ordeal
paid sufficiently by the blood of Jesus Christ.
I cleave* to the Almighty, upheld by His hand
Triumphantly worshipping as His called servant
Sharing the Gospel all the way to promised land
Awaiting His coming; with prayer, observant.
Guilty, devoid of own righteousness in God’s sight
Hopelessly perishing, but now redeemed by grace
Receiver of love’s opulence midst pardon seal
I cleave to the Almighty, upheld by His hand.
*Deuteronomy 30:20 That thou mayest love the LORD thy God, and that thou mayest obey his voice, and that thou mayest cleave unto him: for he is thy life, and the length of thy days: that thou mayest dwell in the land which the LORD sware unto thy fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give them.
December 7, 2020
3rd place, "My Created Form- Rhyme4 Mix" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 12/13/2020.
Enantiomers do not make my amphetamine.
No cognitive enhancers do I need.
Don’t bother giving me that crazy Benzedrine.
Imagination was my mind’s first seed.
I need no extra sleep; I’m sufficiently awake.
I”m not depressed; no euphoriant for me!
My needs are met; I sure want nothing fake.
I get high on life and poetry!
April 12, 2019 for Anthony Slausin's "Your Amphetamine Poetry Contest"
The day my life commenced … wondrously great
Propels each endeavour as good success
Surely designed and authored by the Lord
Who grants grace, sufficiently abundant
Toward grand fulfillment, never worthless.
First among those days is my blissful birth
As parents’ love-fruit who bloomed in their care
Following such are triumphant moments
Marked with milestones, carved and etched in my heart
Worth thanking God for with joyous praises.
My second birth is best of all the days
Divinely miraculous, since Christ-wrought
Quickening my spirit from being slain
Healing with forgiveness my sin-sick soul
Assuring me gift of eternal life.
The rest, I label as marvelous days
Though stained with failures and frustration woes
Others are notable, leaving me scars
But reigning are significant days’ bliss
Spent through faith-function for Saviour’s glory.
My days* to me are Almighty’s presents
Precious against selfishness’ futile greed
Cherished treasures for glad earnest sharing
While consumed devoid of any regret…
Such is my prayer midst human weakness.
*Psalm 90:12 So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.
April 2, 2020
3rd place, "STRAND PICK A,ANY THEME,ANY FORM" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 4/16/2020.
PS Resident Revenant ...
"I shall embrace it," he sighed, transmuting -
Blood, no stain, he thought,
Not even frost on the pane ...
Missed ... he'd not ever be.
** This is the one-thousandth (1,000) poem I have written and posted since joining Poetry Soup a couple of years ago, (12.6.16), at which time I had no intention of making poetry a "serious" thing, lol ... you just never know, do you? It was meant as a farewell piece, but a friend changed my mind ...
Despite the motivations behind that, I want to thank you all for the incredible kindness and encouragement you have shown me over these many months, as I was but an ignorant newbie when I showed up on this doorstep, having written TWO poems in my entire life previous to joining ...
I can't express sufficiently how much poetry now means to me - what a huge part of my questionable existence it has become - but it was the sweet and thoughtful comments from all of you that made it so, proving again that a website, much as anything, is only as good as its people.
Sincerest blessings and deepest appreciation to you all ... I can never repay the debt. ** <3
LOVE is like a figure of speech
It adds beauty to life
It inspires us to beat strife
It gives colors to sight
It expresses feelings tight.
LOVE is a rainbow
It has its perfect timing
To beautify your surrounding
It appears unexpectedly
Yet disappears inevitably.
LOVE is like a dictionary
It connotes different meanings
For different beings
It happens synonymously
Nor perceive reversely.
Love is a fairy tale
It brings someone a magic
Or leaves you in tragic
In just a glimpse or wink of an eye
You and I can't deny.
LOVE is like a wifi
If you're near
You're connected to a dear
If you're far away
You're searching for a day.
LOVE is movie
Where everyone has role to play
It's up to you if you do it that way
As long as you don't go astray
Still you know how to pray.
LOVE is like the value of x and y
If someone is missing
You need to seek unremitting
For they must go together
To fulfill their functions better.
LOVE is a flower
It blooms abundantly
When needs are given sufficiently
It adapts itself to seasons
Yet it withers at certain reasons.
Love is like an antidote
It cures something
It heals hurt feeling
It offers a therapy
Until you look happy.
“What are we ever going to use this for?”
Students ask every single school day.
So sit back, grab a coffee, get comfortable,
And all the reasons, to you, I will say.
Fundamentally it’s about allowing people to
Fully realize the value of their own mentality.
To make them know ethics and empathy,
Solve problems, be social, owning morality.
Education develops language and literacy,
Listening and comprehension sufficiently.
It develops an ability to solve small and large problems,
Solving them efficiently.
Students will learn, first hand, how to explore
An active community with a rich diversity.
And how to repair self-esteem, cooperatively respecting others,
Whenever they face adversity.
They will refine gross and fine motor skills,
Learn how to set targets and achieve their goals.
And whenever things seem to become too much,
They learn how to jump over potholes.
Education is not about capitalism which produces too much,
Sharing nothing, at too high a price.
And it’s not about communism failing as an ascetic morality,
Essentially a fool’s paradise.
Education creates peacemakers, healers, restorers,
Storytellers, and lovers of every shape and form.
It creates people with moral courage to make this world a habitable,
Happy, humane thunderstorm.