Best Suspecting Poems
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness in
Opulent hues that color our lives as we age and
Journey through changing circumstances with
Obstacles that crop up unforseen, and so
Unexpectedly that we are caught off guard
Relying on instinct to help us cope,
Never suspecting that these changes are lessons
To help us grow, spiritually, emotionally and intellectually.
How we respond to these life changes shapes our
Reality in the divergent paths we assume
On our journey toward reaching our goals as
Understanding ourselves is the key to happiness.
God's purpose for us, rather realized or not, is to
Help us grow through experiences as we are
Tethered to the Divine by an invisible cord,
Immaculate and pure within His sight we are free to
Make our own decisions inspired by love which will
Elevate our spirits or hate our demise, it is our choice.
2-1-20
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” By John Keats
~Second Place~
Famous poetic lines that inspire Contest
Sponsor Silent One
Every family has them
These unsettling times these misunderstandings
Times when many things come into play
In most cases these wee spats are soon over and forgotten
But sometimes differences run deeper
Because of other factors
Such as jealousy, middle child syndrome personality
It's only human nature at play
The necessity for all to find our place
In the overall scheme of life
To establish one's self in the pecking order
And accepting it without malice, without jealousy
A hard lesson to learn when we're brand new at he game
Always suspecting that siblings
Are the ones receiving preferential treatment
In reality, they are reacting in exactly the same matter
Trying their best to learn the ropes
To understand what life means what life is all about
But we never do have all the answers
Even if we survive those uncertain early years
And live to the ripe old age of thirty
Well that is what old age is when you're a teenager
Please be assured, you WILL get through
And be a well adjusted adult
Honestly, I feel I am a grown-up child
I express my feelings intense or mild
As and when they take birth, never concealing
Not allowing them to settle, before revealing
Even minor mishaps of mine or others upset me
However hard I try to pretend they don’t touch me
My countenance will show how vulnerable I am
And my body language will reveal I am not quite calm
Being too sensitive to life’s trials and tribulations
Get easily flustered on facing adverse situations
I trust people outright never suspecting their wiles
And land in difficulty easily duped by their smiles
Often, I put on a mask to hide my diffidence
And act nonchalant with an air of confidence
But the mask makes me sometimes breathless
And I expose myself feeling utterly helpless
I feel unease as I see pain and suffering all around
Now I don’t have them to seriously confront,
Yet a nameless disquiet weighs me down
At the sight of hundreds cruelly beaten down
I train my mind not to withdraw into my own shell
When all around, I see misery, hatred, and violence swell
I wish my heart were the fount of gushing love
And with the olive branch of peace, soar like a dove
I long to shed a ray of light into a heart darkened in despair
Give it a momentary flash of cheer through kind acts of repair
I cannot be a beacon of light to illumine all around
But can be a candle to dispel traces of gloom that surround
I pray God to help me plod through the right way
Enabling me to face challenges with strength each day
I know life can flourish only with God’s loving grace
And each day in prayers and gratitude, I raise my eyes
Jan.13.2023
~ Placed First~
Revealing Your soul and Other Tensions
Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Sotto Poet
Rain's drizzling from forest canopies,
Evening sun peeking through leaves,
Flowers rising from decaying hues
Amid the woods tangled and untidy.
Shadows are dancing unknowingly
Whispering evening wind songs,
To the music of a distant waterfall.
They witnessed my arrival
With a cautious screech and roar,
A suspecting growl, and buzz.
It was the elephants' trumpeting
That made chimpanzees scream.
In the wilderness of dissonance
I'm seeking peace and harmony.
Moon is emerging from darkened hues,
A shiny star is peering through.
A starry night guides my path,
Silently contemplating, traversing
The mountains of nothingness;
Meditating to exit solitude,
Looking for the glorious morning sun.
Magical palace where you dream
The arrival of a new world
Worshipping serendipity,
Drowned in agony, swallowing reality.
The fog of misery has vanished
Disappearing like the morning mist.
Birds are singing morning songs,
Rising horizon signals a new beginning.
July 31, 2017
Placed 1st: Brian's Choice 4 Contest by Brian Strand
Once when I was just a kid,
My sister eight years older,
My sister's boyfriend came to call,
While we were playing soldier.
Stationed in the jungle we,
Cut off from our troop,
Surrounded by the enemy,
We must escape, regroup.
To do this we must make a stand,
Take out that one lone guard.
A local girl distracted him,
So we could hit him, hard.
My sister led him to the porch,
To kiss her friend goodnight.
Not suspecting they were watched,
Or what we planned that night.
They stood before the porch steps,
In young love's sweet embrace.
I'm sure the neighbor's heard his scream.
You should have seen his face.
The timing perfect as we leaped,
I yelled to him, ATTACK!!
And Smokey did as he was told,
He ran straight up his back.
The young boy screamed, jumped off the porch,
And made tracks for his car.
My sister cried to Mama,
"He'll probably have a scar!"
The young boy swore that he was bit.
Felt teeth in his behind.
I grinned and said, "But not the cat.
The teeth he felt were mine."
Mama laughed so hard at that,
That we did not get punished.
My sister went into her room,
Her reputation tarnished.
She felt no boy would date her now,
She had a rabid sister,
Who hung out with a feral cat,
No one could resist her.
So cute and sweet, she had it all,
You'd think she had it made;
But with me no one would call,
She'd die as an old maid.
Because of you, I learned to love
Because of you, I learned to trust
It was you who showed me how to feel
Took my dreams, made them real
You showed me what it means
To act without any fear
And seize the moment, trust your heart
To live in love and act the part
I trusted you, I loved you
And believed that you loved me
And that was real, all I could hold
That was the only truth I could see
And then one day, my world fell
Came crashing down around me
A late night call, a lie was told
And I lost all trust I’d come to know
Then the anger, and the pain
The arguments ensued
I knew inside you were hiding
But still, I believed in you
I tried to hold you, was pushed away
Both in your heart and with hands
You wouldn’t let me love you
And I just didn’t understand
Still I tried, until you screamed
And said such ugly things
That I withdrew my heart from you
Because I couldn’t stand the pain
Then one day, without a word
I watched you drive away
I waited for you to return
But you left my life that day
I remember the fear I held for you
Not knowing where you were
Never once suspecting
You had run away to her
My heart shattered, my dreams all gone
Left me wondering what I’d done wrong
I took the blame, believed your lies
And a part of me inside had died
Truth be known, the love remains
Some things inside will never change
I still want to believe your lies
Yet too often you see me cry
Because of you, my heart is torn
Because of you, I live with doubt
Afraid to step too far alone
Still waiting for the truth unknown
Not trusting anyone or anything
From the loss of faith, remembering
All the promises made and vows unspoken
A heart destroyed, but a love unbroken
I don’t know anymore who I am
And I surely don’t know who you are
You’re not the man I once loved so much
All that remains of him is my broken heart
And it’s all because of you…
Sock it to me Baby
He strut like a proud peacock in his crocs
Green they were, worn with lime shocking pink socks
He asked for a date
I said "no way mate"
"Only because I have no matching frocks."
He said he just didn't care what frock I wore
'Cause he'd got crocs of many colours in store
"A lady in red “
I answered in jest
Suspecting that he was aiming to score.
Both of us went on the date dressed in red
"You must be clothed for a bet" someone said
My dates crocs and socks
Gave out vibrant shocks
'Cause all he wore matched, down to boxers and vest.
I answered "yes and it's for charity"
And we raised loads to put in the kitty
My date turned out great
We're now best of mates
His socks and crocs are my flitty ditty.
“Sock it to me baby, come hold me tight
Your crocs so excite me, love me tonight.”
8th June 2021
Into the woods the three did wander
Graceful teenage girls carefree
I had great cause to ponder
Surely someone held the key
When they were never seen again
Suspecting things grimly gone awry
What evils lurks what evil men
Might dare beneath God’s watchful eye
Submitted on January 8, 2019 for contest INTO THE WOODS sponsored by SILENT ONE
After reading opinions of many PS poets, I'm sick of hearing phrases like,
"it's causing big problems," "making me heartbroken," "it sickens me," and many other negative thoughts that are detrimental to the site. I've given up trying to comprehend why some use it and claim it as their own. It's the same with plagiarizing, so I'll save myself the angst of using similar phrases because this is how I see it...
They come in all sizes, shapes, and each gender
posting poetic words that to them do not belong
and then deny it. To the truth they'll not surrender
AI users and plagiarizers will never admit the wrong
I've grown weary reading about it and I'm disconnecting
from caring if they keep getting away with it on the soup
I've stopped using detectors for those I've been suspecting...
ones who continue to debase themselves; it's low to stoop
Sadly, I've seen "Gotcha" written too often in the last year
Proof's been sent to those who should uphold their claim
Written words in PS established rules are not upheld here
leaving AI users and plagiarists getting away with their game
What drives you to steal poetry of others and call AI your own?
Is it because there's no harsh penalty from the administration?
People, you who call yourselves 'poet,' I cannot condone
those who cheat again and again and face no degradation
My eyes will be blind to those users and their schemes
I'll write what I choose as long as I'm pleased with my lines
Attention to mentioned issues has gone far beyond extremes
It's a legitimate gripe but I'm done with complaints and whines
Sweet September, see how splendidly she shines!
Subtlety submitting seasonal splendour, she
swamps summer’s splendiferous sights,
by stealthily shrouding splendid scenery,
with suffused sensuous, sybaritic, scenarios!
Sublimely serene, she spatters and splashes
slivers of saffron, sepia and sienna shades,
slapdash over the sedentary summer scene, sending
sightseers silly! Soon, spooky spectres sporting skittish
shadows, surprise and startle singularly sensitive givens,
seeking soothing solitude someplace. Suspicious solo
sentient stalkers, suspecting solo sailors sometimes, shiftily seen
spying on sequestered sibylline, spectator savants, stay silent.
Such suppressed servile sophisticates, spotting smart
Seedy Senators, sitting sloppily slumped - some silently
supine - send sensual suggestive signs to sexy secretaries, as
subdued sartorial suitors stand speechless. Some, sober and staid,
state spasmodic spates of salacious, and sometimes sanctimonious, statements.
Seemingly superfluous, scores of servicemen and seniors suggest
specific superficial senile support services, should shut shortly!
Studious spokesmen suggest scads of spurious suggestions in September,
send scrambled signals, since severely symbolic sentence structure,
should seek speedy severance from sedulous speculative stricture, and
stimulating scattered sophomore senses and sensibility is senseless!
Since scathingly scanning this alliteration, it seems successful!
Hopefully a fun filled frolicking folio with ‘fin-esse?’
Rhymer. September 6th, 2016.
(from Simon & Garfunkle's "Bridge Over Troubled Water)
If is such a weak word, it branches, crackling under foot.
You know it, but you use it to sing me into sleep, never suspecting
need dangles down upon my head, tickling and wrapping
a comforting hand upon my qualms. If lets you back out
friend, but you wait more patient than the coming of snow.
I'm me, its enough. My ifs and ands are more numerous than leaves
sailing as I kick them about. Leaves don't crackle, they weep
right into the concrete meaning of our existence. Uncertain moment
behind a closed door. Certain moment under a bed of dirt
like hugs from relatives you've never met before.
A friend though eclipses the daylight, becomes lightning to
bridge over or explode into laughter, where do I put them?
Over one shoulder like cast spilled salts? That seems sly,
troubled. Can I weave them together and have life?
Water offers that but slips away, how then bugs? Ducks?
I slip into water as easily as ifs are thrown into the winds.
Will my hair blow like an arrow toward fate or does chance
ease into icicles. They're weapons, ifs, ands, buts, maybes.
Your friendship is such, dressing and undressing like fashion
minds the sales racks. Still though, I'm glad that you and ifs are here.
(from Bridge Over Troubled Water by Simon & Garfunkle)
If is such a weak word, it branches, crackling under foot.
You know it, but you use it to sing me into sleep, never suspecting
need dangles down upon my head, tickling and wrapping
a comforting hand upon my qualms. If lets you back out
friend, but you wait more patient than the coming of snow.
I'm me, its enough. My ifs and ands are more numerous than leaves
sailing as I kick them about. Leaves don't crackle, they weep
right into the concrete meaning of our existence. Uncertain moment
behind a closed door. Certain moment under a bed of dirt
like hugs from relatives you've never met before.
A friend though eclipses the daylight, becomes lightning to
bridge over or explode into laughter, where do I put them?
Over one shoulder like cast spilled salts? That seems sly,
troubled. Can I weave them together and have life?
Water offers that but slips away, how then bugs? Ducks?
I slip into water as easily as ifs are thrown into the winds.
Will my hair blow like an arrow toward fate or does chance
ease into icicles. They're weapons, ifs, ands, buts, maybes.
Your friendship is such, dressing and undressing like fashion
minds the sales racks. Still though, I'm glad that you and ifs are here.
Slowly and silently she moves
Waiting for the right moment before she swoops
Her fangs built to shorten the lives of fools
Who in a moment their lives they lose
The glance from her will make you go pale
For few are alive to tell the tale
Just a swipe and to eternity will your soul sail
Her strikes has never and will never fail
The naive prey unsuspecting is feasting
Unaware that not far from him death lurks...nesting
The prey breathes its last never suspecting
Its carcass in a barren land...forever resting
Who are these helpless preys?...
Who suffering fill all their days
Who are those who lose their lives in these God forsaken place?
Who are those who find themselves caught up in life's maze?
They are the poverty stricken serfs!
Who die daily in mass
While the rich populate like stubborn grass
For them...Hope is far away as the stars!
But we must breathe in the air of freedom even if it's our last
We must build a utopia for our generation very fast
We must raise the flag of freedom on the ship's mast
And build a future that would forever last!!!
Because of you I will engage
In a futile, vain attempt,
To put in words upon this page
What loving you has meant.
Through miles between unmeasured
And the boundaries of time,
You’ve been my greatest treasure
In the back roads of my mind.
Since we were young and so unyielding
And impatient to hold on,
To what we both were feeling
That eternal, behemoth bond.
That comes but once a lifetime
And ends but never more,
Not every verse ends up in rhyme
Nor fairness even scored.
Somehow we turned one winter night
With neither one suspecting,
Cold winds cutting like a knife
And destines bisecting.
Into the snow and ice I steered
Off to find my soul,
All the while you cried your tears
For a love that lost its hold.
Though that’s a lie in waiting
If true love exists at all,
These words are well worth stating:
I still can hear your call.
Late at night with moon and stars
And comets flying by,
And morning when I think how far’s
The separation between you and I.
Not knowing if I’ll ever see
Your smiling face again,
Like a gentle breeze I feel set free
In the comfort of your memory, dear friend.
My golden dog,
two days after his death
I can still smell his fur
in my nose,
in my brain.
After frantic efforts,
we shared his last breath.
I watch the life leave
his eye.
His name was Cosmos and
I think there is a switch
on the spirally DNA
that's turned on more
for some than most.
Those that have it must beware
that it can take them
to their deaths.
Those that love them must be aware
that it can take them
to their death.
Cozzie's mother knew,
it is typical of the breed
to have the switch turned on.
She always held back a little perhaps
knowing where her genes
could take her.
I always sensed a certain sadness
as her doofus son bounced around
trying to please her,
please me,
please everyone!
Lick,licks, licks,
a thousand licks,
even for the cats he shared
a household with.
I think that his mother knew
where it would all end,
out on a walking trail
on a beautiful day,
doing what Cozzie love best,
pulling us all down the trail,
determined always to be first,
dutifully stopping at stop signs,
ready to take off
when given the "O.K".
There came a time in every walk,
that I didn't take seriously enough,
when he would say, "enough!",
and lay panting in the weeds,
embarrassed to be seen,
and we would wait,
until he was ready
to resume the lead,
apologetically wagging his tail,
for the momentary delay.
This was a normal day and
I trusted nature to set the boundaries
never suspecting that Cozzie's switch
was turned too high,
pushing him beyond endurance,
just to please.
The day came when his big body
collapsed in the weeds,
and he could not get up,
panting for his life,
and apologized to the end,
for his inability to please.
If only we could hold back those
with the Cozzie switch
and make them understand
that half a big heart
is enough.