Best Termed Poems
Hitler is burning
He burned yesterday
He will be burning tomorrow
He began to burn immediately
after his last breath.
Hitler will burn forever.
He would gladly accept a drop
of cool water on his tongue
from the least of those at Auschwitz,
at Dachau, at Warsaw, at Flossenburg.
Now, he knows.
He needs no convincing;
how cruel he was,
how wrong he was,
how doomed he was,
from the moment he began
to devalue those he termed
“useless humanity.”
Now, he understands
that each one
was more acceptable than he.
He has total recall of each
prideful thought, callous decision,
every brutal act,
Now, he sees their faces
perpetually before him.
Hitler cannot escape the flames,
his torment will never end.
Yet he is not consumed.
Hitler burns.
Lunar
Full Moon closest to Fall is termed ‘Harvest Moon’
That’s the seasonal time to harvest
Next Full Moon the ‘Hunter’s Moon’ comes very soon
To go for hunting is the best.
In respective orbital path
On certain Full Moon night
Sun-Moon in-between Earth
Come in a line, just right.
Sun-Moon-Earth paired together
When come in perfect alignment
Lunar Eclipse will occur
Technical term ‘SYZGY’ has been set.
Under thinner-most shadow of Earth if Moon slips
Eclipse is known to be Pen-Umbral
If partially shadowed, it’s Partial Eclipse
Fully shadowed Eclipse is called Total.
Total Lunar Eclipse, now being called ‘Blood Moon’
As the eclipsed moon is not dull or dark losing glamor
But exhibits rusty red-hue glow looking boon
Sun-spectrum through atmosphere display reddish color
If the Harvest Moon shows Blood Moon at perigee
The closest position of Moon to Earth
One tenth larger and thirty percent brighter to see
Spectacular ‘Super Moon’ most worth.
If consecutive four ‘Blood Moon’ appeared
Rare occasions of lunar performance
The event is known as ‘Lunar Tetrad’
In between eclipse to come has no chance.
Watching ‘Super Moon’ I felt lucky
Then, have I gone lunatic?
Enjoying marvelous cosmos beauty?
No, I am just romantic.
Themes # 5 Poems on Moon Contest Honorable mention
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stan sand
Written: May 22, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Daniel Henry Rodgers
3rd place contest winner
*******************************
They found it in a cellar no one remembered building—
a small box of tarnished brass, hinges soft as old breath,
a warm lid that felt like it had been pondering for a long time.
Scholars termed it a mnemonic engine,
while clerics labeled it a sin-counter.
Children claimed it housed a star that forgot how to shine.
The lady who inherited it—
The one with the quivering hand and the always-paused voice—knew better.
She had seen the way the box listened.
When she approached, the air thickened,
as if the room were holding its breath to avoid spoiling a pledge.
The box never opened for her or anyone else.
It often shifts its weight on the table at night like a dreamer rolling over.
She kept it despite demurs that it buzzed, projected shades in locations,
no lantern may explain, and knew things no object should recall.
When she tried to leave it behind,
the silence in her chest grew heavier, as if the box were
only keeping her unspoken life from collapsing.
She swore she heard it whisper, never words, some nights.
A quiet, rhythmic counting sound.
Counting her unspoken regrets, options, and lost selves.
Maybe the sum of times she walked back from a truth.
The reliquary kept its secret.
It waited, watched, and held what she couldn't say.
After she died, they found the box beside her,
still closed, warm, and listening.
No one dared touch it, but someone claimed they heard it exhale—
a long, relaxed breath, as if it had stopped counting???
Record ice storms reported in the news.
Multiple car pileups.
Unwary pedestrians fading into sinkholes.
Power lines down, roofs caving in.
God is angry, letting us know
he’s still in control.
No more towers of Babel!
At the tower reaching toward heaven
he confused their language
and scattered them to the ends of the earth.
He who moves mountains with his finger
and sways the ocean with his breath
sends the same message to us.
In frozen punctuation, he shouts
Quit playing God!
I look for the humor in any situation.
Notice the change in lingo.
It’s no longer “Global Warming”
but newly termed “Climate Change.”
as my pen positions itself
between my fingers and pillows itself on my hand…
…I know not why I write and still I’ve got to take this poem for a ride….
Thoughts spew inside my head – too
fast to articulate. Too deep to defend. Ticking like a badly timed bomb
infused with a faulty timer – I reach for the pen…
words align themselves as I walk Through the clutches of Pre-validation. My mind
is appeased – my will is at ease…until the stumbler opens his mouth:
“Poetry” he whispers and I’m thrown
Into the vapors of Validation wondering, perhaps, maybe? Could it be
that without will I have created that which could be termed
as poetry? The jury is out: the naysayers and the critics;
the conservatives and realists;
friends and foes –
torturing my mind, stroking my ego, making my blood boil,
soothing my heart…
tears I cannot cry…smiles they can not see…
anger spills out; indifference sets in;
I wring my mind and
pack my poem
slowly I embark on the
Wrought past Post-validation.
Baby steps in forming words I love. Twisting the poem in forms I’ve
learnt. Dressing it in different styles, shortening it, elongating it;
Snip, snap, cut, bandage –
Rhythm no rhythm. Basking in formless form.
Counting and discounting syllables
But still it’s not enough.
What’s the use of words if they don’t effect?
Diving into The plunge I reign in the words – the leader of my chariot-
My poem succumbs to my will.
Wielding, exposing, slicing, dicing, building, destroying, encouraging,
condemning
the poem breathes – a life of its own.
And I think to myself Oh please who am I to be the wielder of such potency?
I call it back.
Taking a stroll along the beach, I reminisce of things past;
The things I’ve done; the things I’ve not done;
The rot in the world; the love
that begs to be heard…
The thoughts start swirling in my mind.
….
My steps take me back to the beginning…
as my pen positions itself
between my fingers and pillows itself on my hand…
…I know not why I write and still I’ve got to take this poem for a ride….
For: Boomerrang Contest sponsor: Michael J. Falotico
HARLEY DAVIDSON
The roar of the victorious twins that spark,
Enigma of the spotless glint in the dark,
The riders, symbolic of rare brood,
Tattooed with insignia and bandana as hood.
Third year of the twentieth century, there starts a stride,
Relentlessly over a century, stands stout in pride,
The post First War years, gave birth to the twins,
Sidecars mated, to the 18 horses’ wings.
“Milwaukee” heaven, created the stars,
In a big bang scatter, they traversed the universe,
The years of the big wars, saw seventeen-inch twins,
Immaculate with epaulettes and battle olive greens.
At the end of the war, God lent a hand,
To evolve a shiny steel armour for the generation, next clan,
The Knuckleheads, the Glides set the road on fire,
Protectors of human dignity, induce fear on felons’ desire,
The low riders of the seventies, launched with a zing,
The world of its class termed it “A mean machine”,
The XL’s the K’s, roll out with a whack,
Its looks and tyres, burnt all tracks.
Then there were the softails, those flew like a dove,
Elevated the pillion rider, for the embrace of Love,
The zing of the V2 and the double chrome exhausts,
Reflects the personality of a star, that rocks.
Out arrived the fat boy who could cruise an endless mile,
Traverse across the continent in elegant style,
The Dyna and the Low Riders with their fiery spokes,
Came in with accessories that included tattooed blokes.
The King of the road with flashers and sirens run,
Vigilant officer in uniform with a holstered gun,
The Buells, The Cyclones, The Lightning and Thunderbolts
Menacing street fighters, up on the roll.
Exotic long forked choppers, on a smooth ply,
The rattle sound merges, with a helicopter in the sky,
It is the character, that reflects, the heart alone,
The charisma, of falling in love with, ‘Harley Davidson’.
By Pradipta Roy Choudhury
From The Transient Soliloquy
published by Notionpress
https://notionpress.com/read/the-transient-soliloquy
Holodomor Genocide
Native of Ukraine and Soviet Union,
Known once for my independence,
Was pitied tobrutal artificial famine,
Exporting our grain,and leaving us to die,
Declared Kurkul under Stalin's policy,
Shipped to remote uninhabited Siberia,
Left to die of famine,
I was one of the millions,
Once the landlords now riches to rags,
Ghost of hunger that engulfed us all,
Even our innocent kids,
Many nights of darknessand severe ache,
More in heart than in the stomach,
Sun brought no shine,
Zero hope as deathdanced around,
As if wolves driven from the woods,
We ate our own bodies,
Every moment souls died a new death,
Horrible Helplessness, hue and cry around,
Walking amongst corpses,
the good were first to die,
Cannibalism survived,
Could morals stay high ?
Survival a mystic miracle,
Made to deny any famine in public,
Robert conquest termed it 'Harvest of Sorrow'
Decree by Parliament proves it worst of genocide!
Written October 20th, 2014
On Holodomor In Ukraine in 1928
For contest' Genocide' by Cyndi Macmillan
Awarded 1st place
Born an American on eighth month
Stanley Allen Meyer, a man worth,
Designed technology of water fuel cell
Machines which as the perpetual motion.
Thing that retrofitted in automobile
Water as fuel instead of gasoline,
Cell which splits water's element
Hydrogen and oxygen purportedly.
Mixture of gases with specified ratios
Result of reaction came Hydrogen gas
Burnt to seperate water molecules,
Violating the laws of Thermodynamics.
Thus, his perpetual motion works,
The term known, Electrolytic cells.
Electricity, a chemical redox reaction
Which got patent in Nineteen-ninety.
Use of "Water fuel cell assembly"
Portrays fuel cell wall capacitor
Single unit producing fuel gas,
That's the method of his invention.
Ohio TV station turned the destiny
His invention termed as fraudulent
Two investors brought out dealerships
Came as witness for "lame excuse".
Claimed of using Electrolysis
Committed fraud, "gross and egregious"
Dollor of twent-five thousand,
Repay them quick, court ordered.
With Belgian investors at restaurant
"They poisonef me" He shouted.
Ran out, gained his death
It's over of a cerebral aneurysm.
An hour of death came to both
Meyer with his invention's death,
No other restriction, no royalty,
His work incorporated long ago.
The car that ran on water
Sank on it's master death
A legend's history people unaware,
Invention which had Meyer's depth.
DAMSEL CAUSING DISTRESS
The knight errant sent for me, but I’ve gone missing
For three days now, while he’s composed a ditty:
In the tide of feminism I still haven’t given up kissing
Being what is termed fatalistically pretty -
But I can be the ‘no’ that makes for nice
When his flame burns under his boiler suit,
Then I’m decently torpid like a fish on ice
Where the guts need to go when the runts root -
A pillowing breast, my nightcap a soliloquy
To hell with his billowing sails and pregnant ships
Let him go, this guy who’s got everything but me
With his big thighs, big legs, big hips -
All the things we women should shun
Save satin, silk, squirm, sperm, and …sun.
(c) Rosemarie Rowley
From IN MEMORY OF HER (2008)
Terrorism is the new face of barbarism
Decades passed since barbarism eradicated
But our earth is once again confiscated
Emerged by intimidation of terrorism
A war loaded with ammunition
A threat at a gunpoint
That's somehow becomes end point
Here terrorism won over humanity
Mankind,killed with insanity
Gods benevolence somehow disappears
Then terrorists suddenly appears
Tricks everyone and enter with slow pace
And bloodbath whole of the place
At first firing and screaming heard
Then the noises of weeping,tears shed
Souls departs from the dead
Witness the brutal world but their questions left unanswered
That why innocents life became blurred
Gradually their body rests in grave , not in peace but in rage
Life turned dark because there is no one longer for family to camoulfage
Every person on earth interrogates
That why on earth terrorists do blood shed
Why they let many tears shed
From where they come from
Neither for cast,nor for nationality
But their hearts are filled with brutality
These are not the war against region
But the wars against humanism
The barbarism now termed as terrorism
They did what they had learnt
by slaughtering the one who comes in Front
Nobody knows why they quench for war
Why they want to pile up the corpses
Perchancly they got pride instead of remorses
War by war they becomes more maleficent
Destroy the world which once was magnificent
Aftermath was very catastrophic
Now terrorism is the new face of barbarism
Because barbarians has no culture and civilization
(Terrorist Attack-Benghazi 9/11/12)
The Navy Seals absorbed the brunt
of fire al-Qaida thugs bestowed
and died in battle near the front,
stood tall with courage to confront
a vile assault of bitter mode.
The Navy Seals absorbed the brunt
on rooftop stand, machine gun stunt,
a grim attack, defenders slowed,
and died in battle near the front.
As choked in soupy smoke, the hunt
for those alive, true effort owed,
the Navy Seals absorbed the brunt.
The dozens saved in rescue shunt
as teams of seals took up the load,
and died in battle near the front.
A callous chief then voiced it blunt,
and termed it as “A bump in the road.”
The Navy Seals absorbed the brunt,
and died in battle near the front.
A girl returned to school--still not quite well.
A classmate queried, "What's been wrong with you?"
She was so timid but at last could tell
the boy "Pleurosis." He exclaimed, "That's new.
I've never heard of roses that are blue!"
pleurosis--more commonly termed pleurisy, an inflammation of the lungs
The "blue rose" does not exist in nature; it is a rare hybrid. Not even through
genetic engineering are scientists able to produce a truly blue rose.
In the Tennessee Williams play, The Glass Menagerie, Laura said she had
pleurosis. Jim thought she said "Blue roses."
July 2, 2017, entered in Kim's (Kim Rodrigues) Color Splash Contest
People glower; horns get louder -
I wonder why a drive so dour
was ever termed rush hour.
.
Dollars followed by point 99
Are dollars with one more assigned.
Retailers think shoppers math blind.
Business phones in America evolved
With English as option, not default,
Like a blond joke saw phones solved.
In the USA, I cannot afford to die
So place my body atop funeral rates
Until they pass sky for heaven-high.
Halloween is marketed in July,
Followed by Christmas in August –
Greed's gone awry, I won't comply.
Medical care doesn’t care at all,
Should be re-termed medical gall
As many are ill from medical appall.
The law fits fine if one is rich,
Others needing a justice hit
Need a thief’s help to pay for it.
Let me end my sad word hurl
As born in my dramatic world:
Hyperbole debris, reality decreed.
You called to share you miss your family.
Crying, you choked that you wanna come home,
want home to be more than just fantasy
and wish to end your long bi-polar roam.
I know you’ve no address or even comb,
so, say, are your words styrofoam or chrome?
Brother, you’ve pressed my sibling love button,
so well-worn from emotional pressing.
I am not a dysfunction scene glutton,
but how I now hope your call’s a blessing!
Ten years have my bro-miss feel progressing.
God help me, I want what you’re expressing.
Many are the miles separating us,
but no state-count can break our sibling chain.
You talk of making can cash for a bus,
then share problems with liver, heart and brain,
say you’re hospitalized and termed insane.
My own tears swell with new hope and old pain.
Hold tight Bro, I will drive straight on to you,
cherish you, share all we knew and loved thru.
... CayCay Jennings
January 26, 2018