Best Terrifically Poems
Tall
Totally
Thoughtless
Tony
Tore
Tenaciously
Through
Tiny
Terribly
Timorous
Timothy’s
Twenty-two
Tofutti's
To
Taste
Those
Terrifically
Tantalizing
Treats
Oct. 25, 2019
for Eve Roper's Tautogram Poems Poetry Contest
The stars come out tonight.
Do you see the ones I do?
That starlit, divine connection
When our DNA magically combined,
Dancing in harmonic coordination.
I can feel your hands in mine so
strong and able!
And I am 29 once again,
Your soft, sweet hurricane.
Putting my key in the door lock..
Laughing as your arms encircle me.
Off flew my shoes, keys rapidly
tossed on the table!
Heading for a future on the couch.
Thank God, there was no cable!
And I? Was so wonderfully, lost.
Eros inspired, as were you!
Both of us willing and more than able.
I, so terribly breathless!
My dancing, sparkling eyed lover, you!
I was absolutely yours for the taking,
And, oh, how well, you knew that.
We walk in our daughter today...
Compassionate, terrifically loving.
How she literally shines of you!
A chromosomatic daily reminder of
The same music still playing,
That memorable night of Agape Mou!
Panagiota Romios
3/7/2019
Cartoonist since age four; gave it up at twelve
After spending nine months in the clutches
of the meanest art teacher alive or dead
Did not take it back up until I was forty-four
During grad school when I was in the clutches
of another evil professor.
Happily did not need it as an outlet
until I got terrifically bored, around age sixty.
Grabbed up my pencil and began drawing
dragons, witches, pirates, wild warrior women
peter pan, cats, unicorns, flowers, hippies,
anything and everything that amused me
My nine-year-old granddaughter Molly was
such a cartoonist! A natural! I bought her canvases
so we could keep her creations. One day she
begged me to paint with her. Waste a canvas on me?
Ha! That was six years ago. My house is filled with my cartoons now.
I count seventy-eight canvases of mine in my living room.
Thanks to an insistent nine-year-old who would not let up.
A little wild warrior woman!
I have a picture of a tree,
its gnarled trunk thick and wide,
support branches reaching a hundred feet high
Once started as a seed,
has grown to become truly mighty,
generations have played under her leaves,
climbing high into her crown,
a dizzying height,
tire tubes and swings,
wore deep grooves into her lower branches,
evidence of childhood attention,
remnants of an old tree house,
still may be seen,
yet, can no longer be reached,
to high the old oak tree
I love Mary encased in a heart
carved into her bark,
hastily scratched through,
then added Sue, Lucy, and June,
all share the same fate,
carved by a young fellow
whose name is unknown
When in full regalia a majestic sight,
her leaves rustle softly in the wind,
designed to send gentle breeze,
where lunch is laid,
and children play
For eons she has pleasured many,
harmed none,
adding beauty and grace,
to the old home place
In her time,
she had weathered many a storm,
although, her limbs and leaves did shake,
she stood defiant in their wake,
she stood her ground,
refusing to be brought down
Now I know she was awfully old,
she looked terrifically strong,
as big as she was,
some of her roots, her foundation,
had cracked, been ripped apart,
deep scars that never healed,
ran throughout,
never deeply rooted from the start,
her massive weight,
kept her, from falling apart
Then came along the worst she had ever seen,
throwing at her winds over one thirty,
her powerful branches,
reaching so high,
snap like twigs, are cast aside,
her broad trunk taking full impact,
finally succumbs,
pushed over onto her back,
her foundation ripped from the ground,
stood skeletal, hovering above,
what was once her majestic crown
If you listened closely when she hit the ground,
the moan of hundreds of children
crying out, was her last sound
She lay there for weeks,
until, finally,
cut up, burned, and hauled off,
nothing remained
I have a picture of a tree,
where once stood a mighty oak,
a miniature shoot now free of the land,
reaches ever higher
Cajole me in the right frame of mind
For I'm vexed not because of
Personal issues but because of the
Morbid, abstract canvas of life
I'm subjected to witness, where
Groups of so-called righteous men
Drop indiscriminate bombs
On fellow humans ripping
Homes and families apart
Shedding the blood of the innocent
Then simply labeling it
Collateral damage -
Collateral damage of War
Shelling babies... collateral
Damage of war!
Then pluck out thine eyes
With two bold fingers
For I cannot bear witness
To the dislodging of families
Fleeing wildly wherever
The cold wind blows
Crossing rough seas
None with the ability of
Jesus to walk on water
Nor faith to part it like Moses
Water ...swilling with red blood
And saline stinging tears
Mothers wailing bearing
The agony in suffering
Petrified twisted faces pressed
To their wet bosoms
Fathers gnashing teeth,
Raging, panting, feeling
Like a poltroon
Powerless. Gray skies depicts
No rainbow, no promise.
Strike me down
I refuse to bear witness
Beseeching before I meet my demise,
Obliterate borders, these
Man made borders
Us with our Jingoistic attitude
Jingoistic ... flag waving
Entitlement ... displaying
Utmost xenophobia
The mantra mocking
Go home, go home, go
Home - face your fate
On your homeland soil
Drenched and soaked in blood.
I shiver terrifically in my skin
What if it was me ... you
In those weathered skin
Under the moon and stars
Branded a refugee, worthless
Vulnerable, famished, weak
Motivated by hope to
Overcome barriers and borders
And when pruned fleshed
Feet imprint the coarse sand
There's no child in hand
Swallowed up by the gluttonous sea
Let hell's bells drone on
When dastardly Superpowers drop
Nasty bombs on the innocent
Butchering, maiming ... moribund
Then labeling it collateral damage
Cajole me in the right frame of mind
For I will go stark raving mad.
© 2015 Denise Morgan
Playing tic tac toe with a triangular time bomb can be said to be a great idea for a triathlon of terrifically trained turnips whose expertise in the feats show a huge display of dedication, dietary dresses, and downright deserved dutiful distinguished drag. But a stage is not a stallion nor a stagnant shaped ship. But wait now and look over there and carefully study what is around. It is the fast fishes. Fast fishes fleeing flying fermented frogs. And the arrival of a little deck of cards is quite astounding really. For cards clap ecstatically exciting excellent extrasensory extraterrestrials eating evening electric eels. Oh great. Here is the glass beads chatting again. Clutter jingle. In a clatter. Of course in a clatter for clatter chatter is a seasoned dish of cubic carved corn smiling in weapon proof sunhats. Dare to dance the dance of delight with a dishcloth then. Good. Fantastic. Hahah the sea wheels are treading over an otter hut. Hahaha mangos balancing on top of a fifty acre sky scraper. Xxxxx psychologically z z z z 1 2 3 4 pea leap. Z
Penetrating the window the moonlight casts onto my desk wheyey cream of gleam
Bypassing the door ajar extends afar my reminiscence in wee wisps of waft,
Ferreting out your memo and dusting dog-eared pages before sallow lamp shaft,
I telepathize myself terrifically to wonder whether you are right in your serene dream
weaving the warp and woof of our romance that away from remontant has yet stayed.
Gazing at the ink trace set on papers into which condense and crystalize the bygones gooily gaunt,
and missing my line of thoughts between the lines from which spill and spread nostalgic titbits that haunt,
Could I recover the complete imagery of your sensuous sentimentality from splintery pieces frailly frayed?
Should your memo mirrors my heart, the first to fade in my sight would be your eyes glistening in tears.
Should my heart hearkens to your memo, ne'er to fade out of your ears, my sweet nothings day and night.
anxious to teleport myself before you to get an eyeful o'er you, my eyeful, a fay wanting knight,
I set out to indulge both of us into long overdue snuggles and osculations, up for which my everything gears,
Only such blue-sky scenario fails to take off, transfixed by the moonlight peeking into the memo so soon,
Where would I enshrine your solicitude of old, which seems to seep out of the lines while crooning toward the moon?
what I wouldnt do to get you in my clutches, crack a couple eggs, break my own legs to smoke a dutch with my duchess, through hazards ready to duke, Ill puke up a ruckus, refute a succubus and pay for a million knuckle sandwhich lunches, punch the paper until its vapor for that proper sustenance even if it shuts down the whole government, im thinking how am i gona date her
cause love conquers, drives barbarians bonkers, berzerk over that twerkin, some booties deserve sponsors but more importantly its what her minds offers, attentive like attendees at a concert as nina simone saunters like an unstoppable monster, packing bowls of sugar, she aint going for that oscar, truth hurts sometimes lies are softer
every dream fostered, ideal and pristine, christened with caramel and ice cream we scream, for these things cause sour grapes might need sweetening, id rather have attempted and lost, then walk off wondering, into that bitter sunset, spending eveings upsept and alone thinking of you wishing youd hit my phone no time for me might mean for someone else, or your over it all and time is for yourself
rib cage pressin, bars of bones mufflin my internal percussion, tho my flow can sound like timpani typically im feeling terrifically, heart beat bumpin, like kids in a bouncy house on steroids jumping, *****cats click the mouse for all types of assumptions, tho this night i was punked by her junk, vacant spaces need stuffin
Wow a party having a discourse. Now that's a very proud time isn't it? When passing a glass don't wave at a passing wavelength as hair can often disguise a taste. So be careful on the floor then. A lunatic with a rhombus shaped torso. Spinning shouting singing sailing ship shout. Boom. And all moves around and around. And waves wiring waking watching wreaths. And bowl. Idiosyncracies of oxen with beer. Playing marbles on the B508. Lincolnshire perhaps? Hmmmm. Vagrants don't gargle so don't spit in a bag. And when and if a triangular barge passes it is merely a sleeping bag for a tidal wave. Want not a favour from a mystic pie? That would be rather fantastic said a stone. Talismanic traditions taking trade trailers terrifically. Wow. The breathing of a potato plant portrayed in a custard sauce can be felt by even the smallest of the mice particularly when chewing cheese has bright red lipstick. Like a tyre surround. No greasy mud guard then. Cleanliness. Good. Wow. The semi multi layered auric field is most accustomed to working in a shroud. Whilst the peel of lemon spins and spins and spins. Accusatory atomic atoms atomize around areas. And now to peel a grape in a gown not a graph. Good. For tonight's egress is a plain which carries 890 buffalo jiggling to a nineteen sixty picture disc. Label not a lamb then. Query no question mark in a silky kimono. Broom broom broom. Sputter spat sitting situations. And now to post a lot of cutlery sets. Great. Xxxxx deviant deviation device xxxxx insectivorous Z g y r t q p Z
Superb to the nth degree
Pleasant to behold
Exceptional in quality
Candied with extra-ordinaries
Terrifically produced
Above average by far
Crazily addicting
Unbelievable
Lovely to witness
Ageless
Radiant
The Owl And The Pussy Cat By Edward Lear,
He, this poet was in top gear.
Exciting, extraordinary excellent read,
Oh the Owl and the Pussy Cat the child does need!
Warming well-being, whimsical write,
Loving loverly lovely light.
Awesome and amazing adorable antidote,
Never forgot this poem he wrote...
Dreamily dreaming darling dream,
The owl and the pussy cat were a great team!!
Heartwarming, healing rhyming-seeds,
Expertly crafted and exceeds…
Positively positive perfection plated,
Uplifting, universally uncomplicated.
Sensational seducing start,
Sweetly sweetened sweet; so smart!!!
Young-at-heart-yarn...
Creative creations constantly charm.
All in all a favourite book for it articulately,
Truthfully, terrifically took…
Achingly
Beautiful
Courageously
Deft
Energetically
Frivolous
Gaily
Happy
Ignorantly
Joyful
Kind
Lovely
Magnanimously
Nobly
Open
Preciously
Queenly
Rare
Splendid
Terrifically
Unsuspected
Voraciously
Wicked
Yearningly
Zany
Vivian, my eighty-years-seasoned neighbor, called Vi, is a mystery only to those who did not return her first cheerful “hi”.
She is an open-book person, ready to love and accept everyone. I met Vi the first day I was out in my yard building a rock garden, two days after moving in. She came roaring down my driveway in an older model of a car, something gray, with long seats. She stopped about a foot from me and got out. I turned and smiled, and so did she.
She was here to offer her son’s tractor services to me for free, tried to talk me into letting him come over here and mow down the trees and bushes that traveled along our mutual wire fence line from the road to the back forty. She called it a “mess”.
We love it like that, I told her. My husband in particular loved it because he is a natural guy, who enjoys sitting on the porch in his boxer shorts on a summer night, catching the breeze, without any gawkers.
But I kept that quiet.
She told me a funny story about catching her husband and his newest girlfriend at a motel. She waited until he paid, and they were walking to their room. Then she fell into step beside him and said “What are you doing, Eddie?” The girlfriend must have known who I was, she said, because she screamed and ran off.
I spent a lovely forty minutes or so politely laughing my head off at Vi’s funny stories. Then she asked again if they could mow the mess away. Which would have given them a clear view to our yard if they had a telescope, and I figured they did. In spite of her terrifically funny stories, I stood my ground.
America
Let's all hate it?
Sorry, I don't understand.
All countries have problems!
One can always leave.
That's an option we have.
But, other countries have limits.
and qualifications.
And no, you cannot just walk in.
To me this country belongs to
God.
No group claiming, they were
here first.
Or by placing a foot on our
soil, you are automatically,
American.
Try that in Canada..do you
really think that makes you
automatically, Canadian?
Reminds me of Israel, a truly great
and auspicious nation.
With various groups killing Jews
to own that nation, with knives,
bombs and rock throwing.
Posing a deceitful history and
provoking death and bloody
confrontation.
We, here, stab our own country and
each other!
Such is the result of PC history,
the younger set was taught.
Give professors a book and
all they teach is never questioned
...just one hundred percent bought?
And the news media pedals this
same, far left thought.
As one person of color said
with great humor yet pathos,
too:
" I never thought I would see
the day, when white folks were
going around apologizing for
being white."
What terrifically, pathetic irony!
June 23,2019
11:38pm PST
Poet's Notes: I was not going to
post this, but am appalled by
Americans in particular who hate
this Country as a Constitutional
Republic, drool for Communism
here, and even worse, laud the
killing of children. We give much
to other nations for protection.
And the response?
The "finger" and total ungratefulness.
Add arrogance, too.
June 23, 2019
11:45 pm PST
At 27,123 pounds, Gertrude was at her finest, and friskiest weight.
She said to everyone she met, “Hey, I weigh over a ton, isn’t this terrifically great?”
The other dragons were jealous, as weight in their kingdom is the best thing to have.
She ate two good-looking, Texas cowboys for breakfast, the ones who used to calve.
One of them, Jim, grabbed ahold of her masticating incisor, and pulled himself through,
The hole she had between a molar, but her sloppy green saliva was as sticky as glue.
The other cowboy grabbed onto a wisdom tooth in the very back that had a bit of decay.
As far as I know they stayed there, for a week or two, and they might still be there today!