Best Tell Apart Poems


Premium Member Pen Your Voice

Voices from a poets pen 
Soft ones, loud ones...now and then 
Speak your tongue, let it be told 
Let us hear your heart unfold 

Pen on paper how you feel 
Then show us all...poet's zeal 
Told in tone...to tell apart 
Unfold your voice, in your heart

Villanelle of the Disillusion

3/1/2016

A drink in my hand on the night that just begin
Disillusion from this reality by an unmended heart
Where am I ? adrift from festivity enamored by the night

Taken by the beauty , drawn in by the moonlight
Was is all a lies , was my love come up short
A drink in my hand on the night that just begin

Time froze still as a simple three words would change the night
In this generation what i hold dear is nothing more than sport
Where am I ? adrift from festivity enamored by the night

What once was is coming to an end as fast approach was midnight
Intoxicated by the air or was is the alcohol none can tell apart 
A drink in my hand on the night that just begin

In this shaken and distorted world my only hope is to find the light
The alluring scent capture being as the night slowly depart
Where am I ? adrift from festivity enamored by the night

Like a fleeting dream,overwhelm with sense of peace by daylight
Tell me how all of this work in this world it broken let restart
A drink in my hand on the night that just begin
Where am I ? adrift from festivity enamored by the night

The Epoch, the Epopee, the Eternity

When a precedent-busting pandemic is palling around the world 
when its concomitant panic and pain freak out
it is your fine figures that are unflinchingly unfurled
e'en as proctective gears barely eke out.

Isolation wards owe you diligence and devotion
ICU hours witness your will and willingness in motion
solely concerned with failing lives' fate
you move heaven and earth against time
to wrest back the critical at Hade's gate
with your own forgotten at the sacrificial sublime.

Head o'er heels covered in colors cold 
still you keep your hearts of gold
wherefrom bright hue beams 
warm love streams
care and cordiality swathing afflicted lands
bundling up every bedside in blessing bands.

Sweat sieging forehead, you have smile snuggle both eyes
fatigue ravaging physique, you have patience station personalities.

Tandem consistency synchronizes and synthesizes
Hippocratic oath and your practice
kneading them into such an integrated tenacity  
that the snaggiest terrestrial tmesis cannot tear apart;

Kindred fitness harmonizes and homogenizes 
Asclepius' staff and your hands
melting them into such an uncanny continuum 
that the sharpest celestial kenning cannot tell apart.

How many grand writers' purple passages paled
and painting masters' soaring strokes flattened
as eminent ebullience of ekphrases encounters self-effacing eclipsers
you are the plainest messengers, the hope and healing disseminators
you are most colorful illuminators, the virtue and vitality vivifiers
Supreme entelechy of esthetics meets pluperfect interpreters.


Lois, Quagmire, Jasper and Emmett

Fuzzy little balls of fur, 
 Sleep, stretch, then yawn.
Snuggle up to warmth, 
 and keep me up 'til dawn.

Eyes that are opening, 
 and at first they are blue.
Can't wait to see the final color.
 I love to gaze at kittens so new.

Each personality shows early, 
 Lois is needy, and Jasper, smart.
Quagmire is feisty, except for the "goatee", 
 him and Emmett you can't tell apart.

You all have brought so much joy, 
 and you take stress away from me.
Even when you're fighting over milk, 
 you guys are as cute as can be!

Lingering Hearts

Lingering Hearts

It will start on a golden summer's eve, 
when you see her playing with her hair. 
A breeze will blow black locks against her face, 
and her eyes will raise in bemused surprise.
And past seeds of dandelion and glittering lights,
which pass through the whispering leaves,
she will catch sight of you staring. 
And she will smile, a small smile,
a smile as much sad as otherwise.
Your mind will know from the start that you have failed,
but your heart needs the answer writ in stone. 
So you will walk to her, though it might as well be a run,
and if you trip you will not mind it.
You will rush to her as a river through the mountains,
following the route that destiny has ordained. 
And for a time you will roll the dice,
play a game that was rigged from the start,
but even though you know it you will not refrain;
elixirs and poisons are so difficult to tell apart!
Eventually the tides will grow in strength,
you will spin faster and faster around her fearsome gravity,
and you will be obliged to reveal yourself, 
even as you know it will be the end of hope itself. 
But how can hope exist if it has no destination?
And is there any destination at all if there is no path?
And if there is a path, how can it continue forever?
No, time has all the power, and you cannot resist her.
So you will come to hear the words you always feared,
and recline for a time in abject dismay,
forgetting the reason why you even exist,
pondering problems that were never meant to be solved.
You thought that your love would last forever,
or at least that is what graced your poetry and song.
The oddest thing is that you aren't quite off the mark.
For many summer nights to come, 
you will feel the trace of her gaze and your heart will pound,
and your silvered memories will drift once in a while back to her,
and you will find that while fiery passion often dies,
the fatal attraction to another can never perish. 

18 January 2017

Premium Member Dr Harold Shipman

The mind is the devil, not the heart,
when in doctor’s garbs, can’t tell apart,
an engaging smile, then the death blow,
some died real quick, some very slow.

the touch was soft, voice saintly gentle,
poured potion with love to dismantle,
they drank never to wake up again,
did they die in peace? was it in pain?

went from home to home to rob the old,
his eyes shone kindness, his heart was cold,
He held their hands to win their deep trust,
offered not cure, but eternal dust!

His heart would have writhed within in strain,
his conscience looked at him with disdain,
yet mind was blinded by pure evil,
curing hands were now tools of devil!

No one immune to Satan’s designs,
between good and cruel no clear lines,
face no longer is index of mind,
learn to peep farther, deeper behind!

3rd Placement
Written 31/08/2022
9 syllables each line, 5 quatrains
Joe Maverick Sponsored
Harold Shipman contest


Polemics and Theatrics

Cult and trend and recalcitrance 
I'm from the streets and have seen things
But this I have to admit is beyond me
It's hunting season and they are all in
Pontificating politicians demanding penance
Pointing fingers at pimps and king pins
Attracting the attention of sharp shooters

It’s a dreary mess of an age
They are feeding us baloney sandwiches
So that we can digest the drab 
Dullness mixed with brilliant moments 
Freaky nonsense and ebullient concepts
Politics, polemics and theatrics
If it wasn’t pathetic I’d call it poetic
In this prison we languish

I stopped and thought for a moment
Time and circumstance, one and the same
No distinction, hard to tell apart
Trust me on this.  C’est ne pas possible
I’ve followed the algorithm
Up to where it turns around the hill
I’ve seen it in totality, in its many hats and faces
It reads like a book. It reeks like a fluke
But I’m hardly moved. We are flipping pages
Flipping pages in a book of tricks

Every presence is a narration
A monument of words and actions
Good and sometimes shocking
Infractions and retractions 
Piles of reactions and counteractions
Call it interaction. Break it down
But watch your intonation

Premium Member A Fisherman's Catch Some Thrown Back

I don't have much luck with women
Although I've had a few
It's not always a pick and choose
More of ''He looks doisy he'll do''.       
They have been as skinny as a lat
Or like the cat who got the cream fat

Big ones tall ones short ones
Redheads blondes and brunettes
Paris London New York Dubi
I'd rather forget
Sometimes I shake my head and wonder why

Some have smelled like a flower
Others smelled just like a hog
I had to put a peg on my nose
And tell them to have a wash bath or shower

Some have been stir crazy
And nag or say nothing at all
Sometimes they tied me to a bed
Or pinned me to the wall
Have been hardworking or lazy.        

Some have had false teeth or real
Some like to kiss
Or don't and riddle just like a fish
Some have had that much plastic
They'd melt in the sun
Some know how to make me feel
Others took my money 
And are somewhere out here
On the run 

Some have tried and others have died
Hit me with a cooking pot or not
Hurt me or healed me
They have stood by me
Or stood on the other side 

They say one is born every minute
And I'm the fool
Some have made me laugh till I cried
I came last in a race
Some were great cooks or pretended to be
And the pan had nothing it

Some have been rich
And others poor
Public enemy number one
Been  convicted
Or the cops keep knocking at the door

Some were ill others well
Were identical twins
You couldn't tell apart
Some were a nightmare others a dream
Took me to heaven or took me to hell

You could say I'm wiser now
And I learned my lessons
But that's not true at all
I can only blame myself
I'm a pig and they were a cow

But whatever I have to say
I treated and respected them well
Made them feel like a Queen
Been married a few times
But got divorced the very next day

Women are special in their own ways
And need to be appreciated for who they are
And the things they do we all have our own faults
It's a game of give not take forgiveness
It can be hard sometimes you have either stormy or sunny days

We can't live without them or mankind will go extinct
Only animals birds and insects and creation
Would only be things that would exist
Just remember we should all be linked
Men wear blue and women wear pink.
© Peter Dome  Create an image from this poem.

Motherhood

eh…,heh…,neh….
infant’s snivel!
can be put down
in many ways,
in different languages,
but no more than mother
could comprehend its needs,
yeah,
no more than mother!
eh…,heh…,neh….
mother milks child!
eh…,heh…,neh….
mother plays with child!
eh…,heh…,neh….
mother embraces child!
oh god!
impossible to tell apart, 
the same yell,
let know mother 
the different needs of it!
motherhood!
noble and sublime!
motherhood!
undoubtedly,
an exalted state.

Premium Member I Ran

I ran
To escape
An evil
Year
After
Year
Becoming tired
As I could not
Out run it
So
I stopped
To face it
And die
It stripped me
Of dignity
It humiliated me
It mocked me
Spat in my face
Kicked me
Profanities
Screamed in my ears
I stood there
Shamed
Naked
In front of the
Universe
And everyone
I could not tell apart
The spital
From tears
Physical pain
From self-loathing
The will
To life
Or the desire
To die
It dragged me
By the feet
Through the streets
Of a man-made hell
Then it left me
With nothing
Just a heap
From which grew
I
Flower

Animated Thoughts

As I unwind my thoughts to leave behind
Darkness and grime that weathered my heart
Tangled l lay  foetus like, messed up in disarray
Hurting, like icecle wedged in my heart
frozen my sense denying me vision
My soul breaches the tomb wherein enclosed
Insidiously my heart beguiled by lust
Entrapped herself in a web of deceit
Parched were my lips from the blistering heat
From within my loins a rage engulfed
Shreik that split my thoughts in two
Night she withered in fear, moon she wilted in vain
Searing all within her reach
Those who deceived my tender heart
Who never knew to tell apart
I love the shrek in me.
.......
Wonderful fantasies and dreams
Happy New year
© Sam Raj  Create an image from this poem.

A Friend

SHE IS MY FRIEND, A VERY SPECIAL WOMEN.
I WILL SUPPORT HER ROCKY ROAD UNTIL THIS BURDEN IS UNLOADED
WE WILL WRESTLE WITH THE TIGER UNTIL HE GET TAMER 

SHE CARRIES ON HER FACE DEEP REGRET OF A HEART BREAK
TEN YEARS HAS SHE GIVEN FOR THE ACT THAT LIVES WITHIN HER
LEFT HER ASHAMED AND DISGRACED.

SHE FIGHTS TO CONTROL HER DELUSIONS, HER HEAD HELD HIGH AS SHE WALKS
PASS THE EYES THAT ACUSE HER OF THE ACT SHE WRAPS IN ILLUSSIONS.

I NEED SOMETHING TO HELP ME SLEEP THROUGH THE NIGHT
SO I WON'T REMEMBER THE AWFUL YEARS OF MY PAST LIFE.                                                                                                                       .

WALKING ALONE NOT SEEING HER TRUE FACE FOR FEAR OF WHAT 
SHE SEE'S. 
UGLYNESS SHE COULD NOT TELL APART FROM BEING DECEASED.

HER EYES ARE THE SIZE OF CRYSTAL BALLS FROM RETAINING ALL THE TEARS
SHE WON'T LET FALL.

SHE'S BEEN DISGUISING HER SELF TO FIT WHAT OTHERS RALLIED TO PRESIST SHE WAS                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               STUDING                                                                                                                 LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW HOLDING ON TO A BLANKETTHOSE EMPTY FEELINGS DEEP INSIDE.
STILL SHE IS MY FRIEND UNTIL WE SCORE A HOME RUN.

The Colors of My World

Today my world is azure
Like the purest blue of sky
A day to soar amongst the eagles
As if granted wings to fly

On the days my world is golden
Sunshine lights my path
Anger carefully eludes me
Sparing others of my wrath

I dread the days of ebony
When melancholy doth prevail
The burden of loss, a sad event
Some unpleasantness to entail

Now rare are days of fiery orange
When excitement takes the stage
Dancing with anticipation
To find what lies on the next page

In between there’s days of gray
The most ordinary kind
Ones often hard to tell apart
Nothing special comes to mind

Premium Member There Go the Sundersons

There go the Sundersons, someone said with a laugh
It was Norris, the notoriously crotchety old man giraffe
The triplets, riding their bike, a sight to see said a frog.
The ostrich twins were irritated now, chased by a dog.

They are so identical, I wonder if they share a brain said one.
I was not amused, being a twin, this bullying is not fun.
Maybe you share a brain with their triple bike, I said.
The Sundersons rode by, and one yelled out “Hi Ned!”

So Ned was his name, and now being an enemy was his game.
He glared at me hard, and I did exactly the same.
The Sundersons are hard to tell apart, said Norris, you have to admit.
I did not like hearing this either; I did not like it one bit.

my Way Home

Eyes stuck open - of angel in the mud -
Skies cry soundless pelicans in flight
Panicked Santa Ana winds shake tips of entangled feathers
An ambulance ignores this stop rushing for a human
Heaven in distress aches bloody, distorted sunsets 
The child in me is missing her winged guardian
Vulnerable darkness falls on the grieving beach
Levers smooth reality. 
One can't even tell apart purity from mud
I build white castles and move in
So tides would come and take me to Atlantis
They say it is  a weightless city,
where crippled hearts  totally recover 
and anemones teach you how to bloom
when oxygen of soul is scarce 
...and one becomes a legend in the storms...

www.scripca.com

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