Best Take Leave Poems
Oh, weeping willow - friend to me
enchanting thee shall always be.
I have bequeathed secrets to thee
whilst whispering gently to me.
Taketh comfort when hie to flee
nature’s maddening outburst spree.
Cometh rain, shine, you hear my plea
and protect me from life’s debris.
Graceful thee stand my eyes to see
awaiting and weeping with me.
Seasoned branches becoming free
to kiss the ground - teardrops from thee.
Your arching harbour so feathery;
long green leaves a pillow to me.
I rest in safety, hope, to be -
revived afore take leave of thee.
Nectar flowers that feed the bee,
bell shaped yellow, so bright to see.
Catkins fall as you give to me
a token of friendship - bless thee.
Oh, weeping willow - friend to me
enchanting thee shall always be.
I have bequeathed secrets to thee
whilst whispering gently to me.
To be in love with a poet
Is not an easy thing
Try as you might, you will never
Live up to his dream
For the poet isn’t content
With love’s status quo
You please and you tease him
But it’s not enough you know
For living there in his mind
Is a picture of the divine
You know that he longs for her
For it's shown in every line
The woman of perfection
Who is not of this world
With raven tresses of hair
A passion flower unfurled
The poet “sees” this woman
And his senses just take leave
For her love is deep, intense
Her body rivals that of Eve
She is tender and she’s giving
Never asking in return
She waits for him night and day
And for his love she burns
She nurtures his desire
Fulfills his every whim
For she is his possession
Remains faithful just to him
She sees in him embodied
Every single manly trait
Each and every need of his
She’s sure to satiate
Ah…mere mortal woman
Who must compete with this muse
You find that you fall short
And your love’s prone to abuse
For who can dare compare
With a poet’s romantic dream
The siren who sings to him
Who floats on clouds of cream
Poor lover of the poet
Sitting all alone at night
Waiting for him to see you
and your needs to ignite
Love him, my sweet, love him
For in the end...he’s just a man
That silly muse of his dreams
Can’t caress him, but you can
So win him at this love game
Make the fires really burn
Try to enchant his mind
So that for YOU it will yearn
Warn that charming seductress
That muse who tries hard to woo
That you have a jealous heart
And you've made him drink your brew
Your body, your soul, your desires
Bathe him in all of these
Not with words but your hands
Make him to do just what you please
For a poet is just a man
Just a simple man is he
Grant him all he desires
Only then he'll set you free!
Jade
November comes down gliding on filmy wings,
Bringing cool and dank days on her way
Sweet it is to watch the spectacular changes she brings
In a medley of colors, plants and trees proudly stay
Earth puts on a finery no other season can beat
In glinting flashes, the land and sky look so bright
The delectable pumpkin pie is the season’s favorite treat
As the day advances sunbeams fall in sparks of light
.
Early mornings come covered in snowy mist
Soon leaves nose dive and mournfully weep
The fallen leaves tremulously cry under our feet
As their last goodbye before they finally fall asleep
Evenings turn colorful with sinking sunlight, bleeding red
Squirrels chatter noisily as they gather nuts in the wild
As autumn tightens its grip, men retire early to bed
Wind blows all through the month with a temper mild
Soon the air turns chilly with blizzards coming in a row
And winter waits impatient for its icy-cold embrace.
The land will then be covered in a maze of snow.
Even the last flower shall fall and fade from earth’s face
The fallen dead leaves lying in piles and rotting away
And the sound of wind whistling the dirge of November
Bring to me the thought that we must all take leave one day
Down on earth, fall and rot, thus be fodder for new life ever!
Nov.13.2022
~ Placed First~
November or December Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Caren Krutsinger
Blood surges through the deep gash in his armor
while the brave knight writhes in pain and cries in anguish.
The battle is over now and the knight drops hard to the ground
knowing that his life force is ebbing and his strength is waning.
With the battle finished the knight begins his final fight
with Death in his inevitable glory and result.
The knight’s blood now slows to a quiet trickle like blood tears
while key moments in his life flash before him lightening quick.
The knight finds his comfort in love of family and country;
this is a moment of solace as his body tightens in Death’s grip.
His blood now seeps into the ground itself and his breathing grows shallow,
and twilight moves to darkness in the knight’s final conscious thought.
The knight murmurs: fighting, war, and duty to my king have been my life,
but now I must take leave of this mortal coil.
With that Death takes the Knight’s mortal body and the hand of God carries
his heavenly soul to everlasting eternity.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (September 9, 2014) (Distich or Unrhymed Couplet)
There was a fellow riding a certain train,
And he posted an unpopular refrain,
In it he said, the innocents are dead,
With politicians and voters to blame.
To choose is what many profess,
And we wouldn’t have anything less,
But our elected use quill, translate that to kill,
And babes end in a mell of a hess.
And into a health bill of lying rot,
They force objectors to kill who would not,
Adding more of their pork to so called choice,
A choice to fool many voters they sought.
Politicians and media corral voters into believing,
Bills laced with hidden agendas they’re feeding.
They make a predator fat as a sly old rat,
At the expense of a still birthed nation in grieving.
When a nation cares more for turtle or whale,
And the desire for virtue goes stale,
You’ll see a Mother’s precious womb,
By choice, become nation’s tomb,
And lawmakers growing a tail.
Don’t let the almighty dollar deceive you,
Or your sense take leave and flee you,
Take a look around before you’re ground,
Into the dust of this obvious preview.
The moral of the story is true and really quite short,
Justice has been given a hell of a thwart,
You may think it ***** but the end of freedom is near,
Our great ship is sinking in it’s port.
,
There's a lady I know as pretty as primrose,
With innocence of soul,
how I know ----
None whom has walked this wide world 'ere
more lovely than her dimmest delicacy;
The sweet of lavender envious in her passing....
the King-Rose longs her deeper crimson lush,
and divorce he the earth, to marry her but a day;
And death dare not take her
lest he die in her love,
For holy her heart,
where the angels take leave
to but watch mere glimpses of her beauteous art;
with eternal pledges the very ground 'neath her feet
hallowed with heals,
Her wind as cherubin lungs to fill the sails of saints,
a messiah for Epicurus ----
for no ail shall last long in her soothing shadow;
Nay,
the sun shall not shine
with same vibrance in her leaving,
But the stars align with her remembrance,
and God in all His glory more joyful for her making;
For He made her from His finest silks
and honeys from heaven.....
a mentor for Venus,
(ma belle femme)
While attending a social do
You meet and greet others
It’s more a social norm
Than any ‘real’ connect
As you attend to calls
Or get yourself updated with ‘Updates’
Or simply fiddle with your phone
And mind you
You are not alone
Almost everyone is doing the same
Some listless bites of conversation
While chomping on the fare
And it’s time to take leave
But ironically
The same social do
Which you had so perfunctorily attended
Finds the pride of place
On social sites
And horror of horrors
You too find yourself
Engaged in mindless chatter
With the very same crowd
You didn’t much involve yourself with
Just a couple of hours before
In that crowded venue
The story is the same
Whether you are with friends, family or neighbours
The present moments are sacrificed
With ‘smart’ phones smartly severing you
From your surroundings
Ironically when face to face
No one has much to say
But there’s frenzied socialization
Every day
In the ‘virtual’ world
Leading to tch, tch
A 24/7 disconnect in the ‘real’ world.
Daisy trips and falls apart
The mysterious rider brings her back
And now wonders how she ll find
The way back home cause is its off the line
And runs away leaving the rider alone
He comes back for her
On the dark dawn
She refuses to go back to his lost life
The angered rider loses control
Cause daisy was the one whom he loved from soul
And for one last time he asks her to go
To the dark den with him for eternal light
For daisy nods no cause she loves her home
Fuming with fury he wins along
Cause daisy said she will stand her ground
The rider calls in his horse to take leave
Distressed yet still in love he climbs his horse
Galloping his horse he starts to race
While snatching daisy from her most beloved home
Cautious and anxious she struggles through the ride
Then comes the deepest valley with the bridge
Daisy unknown of the little bit of it
Tussling and grappling the little doll piece
Falls of the bridge before he could grab her
Bawling for help when taws’ to late for her
And once again
Daisy trips and falls apart
But the mysterious rider on black mare couldn’t save her fall
For he is down with the heart ache of his lost love
And as said so........
He wanders on the edge of the bridge you see
In search of his lost love or her screams
not knowing its too late for all her pleas
'Cos the daisy was the one whom he loved from h soul.
And daisy said no cause she loved her home
And so goes the story of one lost soul who took control with her innocent prose
To be in love with a poet
Is not an easy thing
Try as you might, you’ll never
Live up to his dream
For the poet isn’t content
With love’s status quo
You please and you tease him
But it’s not enough you know
For living there in his mind
Is a picture of the divine
You know that he longs for her
For it's shown in every line
The woman of perfection
Who is not of this world
With raven tresses of hair
And slender arms unfurled
The poet “sees” this woman
And his senses just take leave
For her passion is intense
Her body rivals that of Eve
She is tender and she’s giving
Never asking in return
She waits for him night and day
And it’s for his love she burns
She nurtures his desire
Fulfills his every whim
For she is his possession
Remains faithful just to him
She sees in him embodied
Every single manly trait
Each and every need of his
She’s sure to satiate
Ah…mere mortal woman
Who must compete with this muse
You find that you fall short
And your love’s prone to abuse
For who can dare compare
With a poet’s romantic dream
The siren who sings to him
Who floats on clouds of cream
Poor lover of the poet
Sitting here alone at night
Waiting for him to see you
To turn on you passion’s light
Love him, my sweet, love him
For in the end he’s just a man
That silly muse of his dreams
Can’t caress him, but you can
So win him at this love game
Make the fires really burn
Try to captivate his mind
So that it's for YOU he yearns
Warn that charming seductress
That muse who tries hard to woo
That you have a jealous heart
And you've made him drink your brew
Your body, your soul, your desires
Bathe him in all of these
Not with words but your hands
Make him to do just what you please
For a poet is just a man
Just a simple man is he
Give him all he desires
Then watch his love set you free!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
(English Sonnet)
Somber as death doth pace about her room
The sadness cloaks with black the loud silence
Gone souls she’s loved wait there at her cold tomb
The orb of death prepares silent cadence
My heart weighted with words that go unsaid
Whisper a hushed farewell, my last goodbye
The sentinel, I wait, beside her bed
For death to come and thus release my cry
From there her eye one tear I see the sheen
As each wave of her chest I wait the last
Her breaths come now so deep and long between
With one last breath the stillness she has passed
I see her soul take leave in that minute
The tears come now as death takes her with it.
Written for “DEATH” Contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
October 24, 2017
Peace or Problems
Do we want peace or just more problems? Whatever shall it be?
We will always have our differences, that is a strength for all to see.
There are countries in this world, where freedom has all been lost.
This happens when people are unarmed, it ends with a terrible cost.
If you lived in North Dakota, you would never have such fear.
We are armed with rifles and scopes, which are used for hunting deer.
I have made running headshots for years, many over 300 yards.
There are 30 guns in my home, government control is not in the cards.
Every household out here is armed, some more heavily than mine.
If I ever run out of ammo, I have strong dogs who will hold the line.
I have no fear of government, this is my home, and I will never run.
We will always be invincible; I am protected by God and my gun.
We can stay warm without any grid; we know how to live off the land.
We are a formidable force, not just some little boy band.
I think we should all get vaccinated, that is just what I believe.
But I will die for your right to choose, my convictions will never take leave.
When twilight comes,
be morn or eve,
a time when cares
and fears take leave,
when the sun arises,
when the sun does set,
when the trials of the world
have not come yet,
nor will they you beset,
when ferns and flowers
are tender with dew,
when dreams
that you've dreamt
become alive and new,
when the stir of a breeze
and a rustle in the trees
become as music
to the soul
and the landscape all about
is as a heroic Grecian frieze,
when Time knows no time,
when sorrow has no pain,
when grief is lost forever,
when joy is free to reign
when the heart
is filled beyond measure
when Love abounds 'til never
then will you see and feel
things more precious
than all the world's
golden store of treasure.
I am a selfish person.
I do not like that trait in myself,
But I know it is there,
Lying dormant until such a time,
As I may be refused something
My heart may desire.
I cannot correct it, not entirely.
I cannot banish it to some shelf hidden away
From which it cannot creep forward, again
When my wants are not fulfilled.
I can only chastise myself
For my feelings of self-interest,
While I force myself
To feel,
To say,
To do
What I know in my heart
Is the right and honorable thing.
I tell my ego:
“Be silent. Be still. I will not hear you.”
But those whispers of Want
Never fully take leave
Always leaving behind their
Traces of resentment and hurt.
I have learned…
Only time heals the
wounds of my will
And the knowledge that God
Steers my heart in the proper direction.
intensive care unit
may recover or take leave
by those ill and not
The doors are locked.
Abject darkness all around.
I long to see the opened door.
I swim in this pool of nakedness.
We have hope in all our solitude.
That we can survive alone in the wilderness.
In reality, our simple minds have no clue.
Sorrow does not care whether it is righteous.
I scorn all who offer their opinion.
I in my solitude, only, I have none to impress
If there was an impression of me,
Upon your cold soul - less empty heart.
Spineless and false you creep thru my thoughts.
Clarity comes from letting go of the falsity of life.
Kindred spirits know well of what I refer.
Does not the Divine not have compassion.
Now I will take leave of my innocents ripped bare .
We make our own ignorance prevailed upon us.
Making us think we can survive alone in time.
Even alone we go on justifying our acts.
Those of us who are blessed in childhood.
Bring down a bit of heaven with us, I believe.
Childhood itself is scarcely more then a thought.
Of old age , pleasing illusions covered in mist.
It's raining in my soul, raining on a dead soul.
Rain is grace, there would be no life without rain.
In the darkness of the night , I see him there watching.
It's death again, absent from body, always on the clock.
Every time I pull the blinds , I spy him there in the trees.
Always there , always watching for us at deaths door.
Back to dust we return to Him, out of body, the spirit.
Returns to God, the one who gave it, life !!!
9:30am Tues. 3/ 5/ 2013