Best Tentatively Poems
BUT SERIOUSLY
“The Unprecedented President”
Mirror mirror on the wall
Who’s the greatest President of them all?
“I am the voice beyond-beyond...
A truthful answer I must respond.”
Yes, it is the truth I quizzically quest
I ask again, who is the beauteous best?
“You are”, the mirror said with fingers crossed
The mirror knowingly well a lie was tentatively tossed.
In the mirrors, we see rewarding reflections
Layered lie's of life’s derailed defections
Illicit illusions with abundant attractions
Pompous portrayals of diplomatic distractions.
Jan.22.2017
BUT SERIOUSLY - Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
Descending stairs in ballerina pink
her naked toes now tentatively sink
into the snug embrace of each new tread.
As silently as snowflakes touch the ground
she softly tiptoes down without a sound
and in her hand a book which must be read.
With tousled hair she stands au naturel
upon the final step, knowing full well
that she will soon be safely tucked in bed.
14.10.19
Nude - Descending A Staircase Poetry Contest: sponsored by John Lawless
Time ticks away as a new dawn strokes your splitting heart,
with your mood swings re-writing my emphatic poetical art.
Although the fear of your demons may grip my soul
I am now immune to all the personalities you can't control.
I am lost without the warmth of your crystalline eyes,
so let your tears implode upon me under turbulent skies.
I've seen crimson and aquamarine ambers outside your tinted mists,
without boundaries or limitations, I'm one who always persists.
As I recognize the repetitive push and pull for the fearful,
you've so impulsively strained against us with forces so powerful.
I never knew there would be something sweet about a fatal kiss,
but the moment I laid my eyes upon your soul's tender bliss,
I knew no, amount of pressure could keep us apart.
despite my mind, always on an endless loop to restart,
I'll never stop trying to be by your side,
despite the havoc I will understand you tried.
There have been times you've named my trust an unfaithful land,
yet in times of turmoil you've never forgotten the future we planned.
Let me mould those wheels into emerald wrecking balls,
so we can tentatively tarnish all the forgotten falls,
as you swim from the flashbacks and triggers of satanic seas,
my arms shall always be right in-front, just as you need them to be.
Remember you'll regret loving me without maturity;
You’Il insanely struggle with immense insecurity,
because I will not let your imagination push me to insanity.
My spirit will guide me even when you feel disorientated,
as the keyholder to my chains, with you I feel liberated.
I'll constantly remind you of this forevermore,
When your fears overtake you like an irrational war.
Dark chocolate eyes bore into me,
Beseeching, brimming, tunneling for truth.
A single tear trails silently
Cascading o’er lifted cheekbones so
Perfectly angled they’re matchless
Throughout nature’s beauty scheme.
Exquisite, ethereal amber skin is
Glistened by a single path tracking south
Till brushed tentatively aside and away
With a deliciously delicate crook’d index finger.
Adjusting focus with a bow, her upturned glance
Begs understanding, explanation.
Crimson lips, lavish in their trembling,
Part in silent query, “Why”?
Two years ten days no joy could compete.
Renowned in circles select, discreet,
Our couple bid the daily world depart.
Sealing curtains leaked primal sun bright-strewn
‘cross comely sheets, fantasy games oft fulfilled.
No doubt the future shined, out there.
Sparkling horizons, her urgent beckoning.
Glacial azure eyes avert at this sight
Of flawless beauty marred by an unrequited
Inky threshold placed anew across
The spectrum of her charted dream.
Cooling cooing stills her tears momentarily,
Hypocrite rising fresh, predicted.
Hope extended but a moment more,
Remembered embraces reenacted
Pacifying heart-ripping avalanches
Sure to embalm, feigning calm,
Endless love promised, bestowed,
Bloomed, embezzled,
Freshly bamboozled...still,
By her guileful paramour.
~~~~~~~~~ (the goodbye lie)
She had been out for a walk
Jostling for a seat
Amid the teddy bear,
“blankie” and “bobba”.
Lost her grip and slipped
Slowly from the grasp
Of tiny, sticky, fingers.
She lay on the sidewalk
Amazed by the variety
Of shoes and stockings
Frightened by the hurried pace
Chilled by their indifference
To her…and her situation.
She saw a hesitant, trembling hand
Reach toward her
Tentatively touch her dress
Gently pick her up
And hug her.
It was a different hug
Deeper, somehow sad,
Yet joyful at their meeting.
She nestled into it
Knowing that she had not been lost
But found.
John G. Lawless
©6/18/2023
We walked home
Hand in hand
You were just a girl
me a boy
pretending to be a man
We held tightly to our nothing
Wrapping it fully within the wanting
Not really knowing
who we were
or what we were needing
So it was so easy
to sink into heavy breathing
Me the innocent boy
you my ingenue
We loved each other for a time
It seemed the right thing to do
You were my cynosure
a crystal blue eyed angel
naked and demure
Tentatively innocent
yet somehow you seemed so sure
I wanted you to unlock my sad lonely
still I kept looking elsewhere for a cure
A panacea
for the missing parts inside of me
So I searched
wanting to see
my sempiternal possibility
Feelings ineffable
I wanted so bad to feel full
Why couldn't I hold onto us
or resist the pull
I was a sad black sheep
searching for virgin wool
I thought maybe
beyond my awkward stammer
in the wider world of glamour
I could be a mellifluous camper
Yet secretly I knew
I was neither lissome or free
Why did I give up the us in we?
Binding myself in a place
I was never meant to be
There in a chatoyant box
locked with a golden key
It would take years
For me to be able to see
What my crystal blue baby
seen inside of me
In the end
knowing I was loveable
is what set the boy free
You showed me
the man I was meant to be!
I completed Silent's ten word challenge.
Beyond an overgrowth of weeds, I see
a house with faded paint. It beckons me.
Victorian, its windows are like eyes
that hypnotize, and soon I find myself
there at its door. I tentatively knock.
Though knowing nobody will come to it,
to my surprise, I turn the door knob and
just walk into this strange but lovely house.
I look around at antique furniture
grown dingy. Cobwebs decorate the walls.
A sudden slam! I run back to the door.
It won’t come open. Panic floods my soul.
I go to every window. They won’t budge.
It’s like they’ve been sealed shut from standing still
through many years of never being used.
I shiver; from the corner of my eye,
I see a figure. Shadowy, it flits
across the dining room. I follow it
while swallowing my terror, and I go
into a small room, where the shadow crept.
Surrounding me are paintings on the wall.
I can’t take them all in, for there is one
that seems to call to me! How can that be?
It’s quiet there, and yet my mind is filled
with someone’s voice. It pleads to be released.
The voice is in the painting! I am led
so weirdly to its spot upon the wall.
I get right up to it and feel a chill.
An evil presence has me in its clutch.
I know this when I see the painting’s scene. . .
Fresh horror like I’ve never known before
now grips my throat and I can’t even scream.
Inside the painting is a woman who
looks eerily like me! She stands inside
a room with many paintings, and behind
her is a hooded being. Is she me?
I dare not look behind me. . . yet I do.
The hooded figure stands behind me too!
A scream at last escapes my lips, and I’m
inside the painting now and looking out!
I’m looking out onto the tiny room
with all its paintings. I am caught inside
the confines of a frame; I’m miniature!
I know the hooded beast has captured me.
I see his shadow leave the room and know
the door to this big house he has unlocked!
Another fool will enter as did I.
They’ll get locked in and then led to this room
to that one picture where I will await
to cry out plaintively to be released. . .
This particular mid winter night after a quiet drink at our local
started to venture home, frost in air only light from a half moon,
feeling brave after having a couple of beers, decided to take a
Short cut through our cemetery, approaching the iron gates which
we're closed but never locked, on opening they gave out a loud
screeching noise which seemed to echo across the village, our church
Stood at the top of the hill left of the path, there was a musty smell
in the air, I stood and pondered for a few minutes then started climbing
the slight incline, approximately ten yards in I suddenly heard what
seemed to be a tapping sound, tap tap tap, I looked around my heart
Started to race, everywhere was pitch black, my imagination was kicking
In, walking slowly again the tapping seemed to be getting louder and louder,
I was now at the top of the hill standing outside of the church entrance,
Was I imagining it? Was I really hearing this tapping sound? should I turn
back? I looked up at the moon that was now veiled by shadowy cloud,
must carry on, so tentatively started walking again, tap tap tapping sound
even louder now, then shock horror, my heart stopped, I couldn't breath,
frozen to the spot my whole body disabled at what I saw, taking a few
moments for my senses to resume and coming to the realisation of what
I was seeing and coming to terms with this situation, I gasped and my
functions started to get back to normal at the realisation of seeing an
Old man with a hammer and chisel kneeling next to a grave stone,
I stuttered you frightened me so much that I nearly had a heart attack,
he stopped tapping looked up at me, so sorry he said but they have spelt
my name wrong.
Running Away by Maria Magdalena Oosthuizen
I am a part of each leaf that loses its
chlorophyll and fades from green in the maze
of my mind. Again, I try to run through, as if I could
escape, on a search for a flower garden I may
never find. Turning to rest, I laze on dying
grass next to a wall of leaves loosening their
grip to fall upon me. As my calm explodes
in chaos, I awaken from my twisting dreams,
lashing out and gasping to breathe.
Without love, long ago I became trapped
in this web, but now I know love
is the mist that quenches a heart in days of
despair. I often feel lost and alone despite
my truths. So, I perch in my blues high above
in meditation to watch a little girl on
a quest to find love. She steps tentatively
through the dark then stops abruptly to raise
her eyes to mine with desperation and void
of subtlety. I bend over her with a maternal
touch as fallen tears muddy her sinuous
paths, and I see my own face, different
but the same, flawlessly reflected in her tears.
I do not wish to uproot my past. Along my path,
I will plant seeds, look for buds of rebirth, ask
the wind to blow away yesterday’s decay.
Every puzzle has a solution. Pieces
are uncovered under a brightening light,
one that no longer flickers with intent to
disguise. The little girl in need of love still
has wonder in her eyes as she stares into mine.
On a search for love, I ask for true balance
in the Eden of my soul. That little girl
and I will wind our way through the passages
of our labyrinth
hand-in-hand.
Written 6/26/20
Contest – Maze
Sponsor – Dear Heart
The first to comment
Uplifting my soul
Did anyone know
How difficult to share
My thoughts
My love
My deepest emotions
Did anyone care
As I laid my soul bare
Tentatively putting my poems out there
For all to see
For all to stare
My first time was scary
I was so unaware
if my poetry
could move
or even inspire
or was it just rubbish
to burn on the fire
Confidence restored
my poetry is now
completely diverse
a veritable smorgasbord
of joy
of sadness
of life thus far
and all because she commented
my friend
my superstar
From the Isle of Man
I’m her number one fan
She’s my sweetest friend
And her name is Jan
Written 21st September 2019
1st Place
Contest Name Pick a Friend on Soup
Sponsor Bobby May
Contest Strand Select K
Sponsor Brian Strand
HONORABLE MENTION
A brown-winged Lepidoptera alights
My sweaty hand and tentatively flaps
Its delicate wings in morning sunlight.
What seemed to me a long time was perhaps
A moment or two that it lingered there.
It unfurled its proboscis and began
To dab and suck a sweat bead with great care
Unaware that it was the broth of Man.
I watched its skittish profile while it supped:
Its unblinking compound eye, antennae
Feeling the ambient air while lapping up
The last of the bead, turned and looked at me.
I said, hello you little butterfly
It then took flight and I uttered… good-bye!
I got arrested!... further developments await...
By gravity said law
linkedin with physics
stating that a body at rest
will remain thus unless otherwise
acted upon by an external force,
hence I cannot wrest motion
from inert human matter
regarding nearly lifeless entity
concerning how aye barely breathe
heavily weighed down
with lugubriousness easily crushing
this seventy two inch
rusty, cowardly, creaky...
complex corporeal edifice,
thus resigning myself
watching flight of bumblebee
hopscotching from one
clover plant to another
wondrous winged warrior
unphased by human "rat race"
higglety pigglety,
pell mell, helter skelter,
how grand living off the grid
venerating native flora and fauna
simply engrossed with daily tasks
solely attending
basic inalienable rights
life, liberty, pursuit of happiness
keeping stereotypical roles intact
males species pact schedule
hunting in tandem
with brotherly comrades
females tending hearth and home
tendering, safeguarding, nesting...
homeschooling offspring
supervising fledgling,
the latter gingerly venturing
tentatively into parts unknown
unfamiliar territory brimming
trained instincts detect danger,
nonetheless plod along
blueprinted genetically
inherent migratory paths
guides where uncertainty looms
within wide whirring web
invoking, feigning camouflage,
or mimicking ("FAKE")
simulating another organism.
As I stand tentatively on this ledge,
I begin to wonder
if they'll bother to dredge.
I doubt it,with a river so wide,
not for yet,another suicide.
Then I contemplate the rivers depth
and how it undoubtedly
will steal my breath.
As my legs begin to tremble,
I look back at how my life did resemble.
As I'm thinking of my final seconds,
a hand,quite close,
waves and beckons.
I go to jump and end it all
but something grabs me
and stops my fall.
Several saviours are now pinning me down.
Why did they stop me?
I wanted to drown.
Takes his time in sunshine,
Tentatively stepping.
Tranquil summer follows,
Trailed by its vivid blooms.
Too sweet fragrance abounds!
True value takes awhile,
Typical of rainbows.
Written on April 26, 2021
For: Pleiades T Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kim Merryman
‘Turn swords into ploughshares and nightmares to dreams’
I have not one plough and no shares in the market
Insomnia has taken over my nights the rest is illusion
Ambitions are exhausted and hope has no yearning
Freedom dangles on the rope of puppet-less strings
Vacuum reflects an echo of silent ear bursting rasping
Dissonance oozes from cacophony’s apathetic rattle
The heavy clanger of other’s fraudulent forge melts disowned blood
Into ice in my veins as a purulent mind oozes vile battles' cries
Muted by trench feet scraping bottomless mind-fields and apathy
‘Pull yourself out of catatonia’s core-less pits’
But there is no kernel of truth and fruits of desire have rotted
To the acrid stench of a Self carefully lost on broken branches
Snapped composure looms over a well-trodden treacherous path
Carved into an involuntary hermit’s cave by a cliff edged road side
It is grave in the cavern in which vacant vagrants jumble their bones
Disconnect their last possession and wilfully trade skulls and bones
‘This too shall pass and so many others have been stuck in the rot’
And yet suffocation in some muddy sludge is sinking
Slowly and excruciatingly tempting to join forces of evil
A dark rusty anchor floats high on the unreachable ceiling
Time I have endless measures of but the world is upside down
I am out of the picture that has faded memories for the future
Dislodged and dismembered I am a powerful union of nothing
‘Change your perspective and find solace where it is hidden’
So he who is I from the distance finally lets go of unwarranted grip
Descends as far from the surface as possible beyond expectations
And finds footing of the shackles where the ploughshare should be
The spikes pierce my soles and my soul ostensibly drowned in sorrow
At least there is pain and some place in between scars to feel emotions
That tentatively nurture rescue apparently beyond impossible salvation
‘Your advice seemed hollow but there is some loving space left inside my shell’
29th November 2019