Best Threaten Poems
~the Fear of Never~ A DRINK TO REMEMBER!
And the fire catches every time, my heart needs a sip
I bear no shame pouring, poisoned pabulum whisky down
Lost in a place with hungry whores, ink paying gigolos
This night a respected gentleman put's on his evening gown
He sits in front of a mic playing the same old sad song
Fitted out in drag, his wife has no clue
Holy breeders trying to change my shoes
Lingering from the Cute Chinaman, running his tab sky high
Bluebirds of jealousy, set round the vintage Barstool like fools
Minds overpowered and threaten to the very nub
I am drunk-- in his eye,
He receives a macabre confession of possessiveness
I am drunk-- in her eye,
She has a sick confession of subconsciousness
Broken loose from a negative, regressive state of mind
Sit and enjoy this broken bottle of champagne
Unspoken rage in every empty can left behind
A shot glass drops from my unstable hands longing to hold a pen
I look into a mirror and embrace every meaning of stability
Blotting out the madness behind a metal cage of reality
At times, I feel the need to bring down this masquerade
A drink so hostile, I can't even remember my image and name
Too many scars, from the foster of paper and pen
My dependents are drunken demons from a traumatized childhood
Tonight I will legislate a special thanks
Holding up my cup, until death finds my note
I will smile, at every Judge and Jury, during karaoke night
Shutting down my eyes, fantasizing everything's gonna be alright
I will not jilt knowing, writers block haunted my days away
Insecure hoarding monsters enjoying spoil forgotten words
Tonight I thirst like never before, my tongue inscribes around a tin cup
I am not eating up by it, no matter how long I've drowned in it
This is my kind of whisky, my thoughts, my days of ammo
To tell you the truth, I possess no desire to drink
It's all about the love of poetry and how sober, I become (WITHOUT)
The monsters that reside inside, have one thing to say
"Give me Poetry, or give me Death!"
by: PD
Today I found you cornered, drenched in cold,
your fur coat nothing but a newborn's down,
a tiny ball unfolding while I hold
you shivering. Your lacerations frown
and at a distance, I can see the why
of your abandonment, the birds of prey.
I’ve saved you, but you’re causing me to cry:
serrated weapons, Nature’s passion-play,
as blood-attracted sharks, still circling, wait:
I sense the breath-starved fright that made you flee,
those teeth, those claws, you were their blameless bait.
You can’t yet comprehend that you are free.
I see the wounds, some healed, some raw and new,
they're deep, beyond the matted fur and skin.
Four little paws, so tender, sprawled askew,
I seem to feel that you and I are kin.
You mark each move. Mistrustful eyes, so green,
incapable of rest, stir to suggest
you'll try to bite if I will try to clean
the bloodclots, so I hug you to my chest.
You flinch to feel my cuddle. Have I planned
some fiendish way to torture you anew?
The tiny space your wretched life has spanned
has taught you only suffering is your due.
Careful now, I’ll wrap you in a cloth,
And whisper words you cannot comprehend.
Oh tiny one, you're no more than a moth!
It’s alright now. You’ve come across a friend.
Your warmth is blossoming against my breast.
I want to teach you gentleness and calm.
There’s nothing here to threaten you: so rest,
You’re safe now from anxiety and harm.
I'll guard you through the night until you sleep,
until the chesty wheezing eases up.
This is protectiveness, it's seated deep:
I’ll always help a vulnerable pup.
Your heart is racing hard against my hand,
awaiting pain, as wizened captives do.
Believe me, Little One, I understand.
For I have been a broken prisoner, too.
***
May 30, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Oh, no, he best not patronize me on Valentines.
If I must dramatize appreciation, I shall agonize.
Each year, he thinks chocolates will rationalize
spending his time guarding the sofa so it won’t rise,
while my cooking and housework threaten to paralyze
all I am behind my victimized and exhausted eyes.
Unless he bears one, one way ticket for me to paradise
or procures a gift he ingests that will tranquilize,
he can stuff candy hearts in his behind so gelatinized.
The last time I fell for that darned, deceiving cupid
I committed to him and living my life forever stupid.
... CayCay Jennings
January 28, 2017
The Return of the Dragon Lord
Heart twisting in winter wind,
tripping through a water-colored dreamscape,
as if bewitched, she listlessly paces
outside his dismal, dark cave.
Peering at the distant gray hilly horizon,
she anticipates her Dragon Lord’s return.
With his golden reptilian eyes flashing,
and his mighty wings stretching across the sky,
she knows he's making his way back home to her.
Chilled to the bone, without her beloved
to cloak her in his masterful embrace,
she yearns to feel the magical warmth
of his breath lingering on her lips,
permeating her body, awakening her senses.
Consumed by an intense inner hunger,
she has totally lost her mind;
and must be completely his once more,
to quench these tormenting flames of desire
that threaten to combust from deep within
her heart, body, and soul.
A prisoner of his magnetic charms,
she's captivated by his familiar musky scent,
forever a slave to his alien mystique.
Oh, to be one with him again, to let his blood
run through her veins, transforming her.
Heart over-flowing with love, she'll wander along
these cold shores waiting for that joyous day…
when her Dragon Lord returns.
10-22-2015
Contest: Dragons
Sponsor: Silent One
Placement: 4th
Who can know the mysterious
ways of the clouds?
They travel in white whipped masses
and gather like solemn pinnacles
looking upwards in reverent penitence.
Silent clouds slowly form and move about
like floating fields in a heavenly marsh
or like soft suspended pillows
making themselves vulnerable
to the temperamental ways of the wind.
Sometimes they seem almost helpless
as they wander in a ghost like state
like wastrels, weighed down
by the prospect of an impending storm.
The yawning blue sky
has become quickly overwhelmed
by clouds’ alluring apertures.
Now they collectively amass
in billowing silence
crowding the vast
sweeping hemisphere.
Slanting sunlight breaks forth
to spar with clouds’ menacing shadows
that threaten to overtake the light
like competing shadow puppets
during a midday matinee.
Clouds are endlessly breathtaking
and appear seemingly mute
except for faint whispers from the winds
as if time stopped to hold its breath
within the boundaries of earth and sky.
4/18/2023
Twinges of familiar sadness
Threaten to overpower my very being
Can I truly be unseen?
Perhaps I never wanted them to intervene
Silence is all I can give you now
As I absorb all of my thoughts
They rot in my very soul. . .
They burn me into gruel and nothingness
I feel the urge to sleep
To somehow escape the. . .depression
That is exactly what it is
I cannot escape it
I don't want to try. . .
I guess I want to be alone
Yet somehow my soul is screaming for your comfort
That you never give
I just don't want to live. . .
It can truly be unseen
Somehow I know that is what I want
But not what I expect. . .
Sad, isn't it?
Low as low can be
I never wanted these feelings
These feelings wanted me. . .
4-29-13
*not sure if this should be a rhyme or free-verse...it's a bit sporadic..*
Earth Scope
As verdant mountains overlook the sea
And sunrise plays with shadows in the morn,
Joy fills my spirit with tranquility
Though clouds begin to threaten with a storm.
When sunlight filters through the pewter mist
And rain freshens flora from up above,
Raindrops cleanse and nurture plants they have kissed
In nature's Divine order graced with love.
We, as caretakers of our blessed earth
Must strive to keep our blue green planet clean,
Must realize the bounty of her worth.
Divine eyes keep observing us unseen.
Let each feel this responsibility
As verdant mountains overlook the sea.
6-8-19
'Nature Scene-Orphan Sonnet' ~N/A~
Contest Judged: 6/9/2019 11:22:00 AM
8-8-19
NA rerun-2 Poetry Contest ~Second Place~
Sponsor John Hamilton
Though thunderous noises besiege me
And menacing flames threaten my being
I will gaze upon wondrous works of creation
And trust that I should not fear
Amidst potent floods, I will stand
Anxiety may hang thick as clouds above me
And though I trod through dark, murky waters
My feet, by God's grace, planted well
For who keeps the ocean tucked in its bed?
Who bids the caterpillar, sleep and sprout wings?
If He cares so much for these creations
There is no doubt, He cares for me!
~*~
Dearest damsel, thou art my life
If thou want for food, it will always be there
I will offer confit and other gourmet fare
Whatever jewels ye desire I present to you
Be it Australian opals or Colombian gold
Dearest damsel, thou art are my life
The ravages of nature may threaten ye
But I’ll cool thee in the brutal heat
and warm thee in the bitter cold
I will slay where all the dragons dwell
I'll protect thee from the gates of hell
Dearest damsel, thou art my life
My strength and resolve to win thy love
I will defy the gods above
Until my labors bring fruition
all these enumerations that I have stated
I promise thee with all my heart
Dearest damsel, thou art my life
But thou cannot have my Tapioca
We dream of peace on Earth; what is this peace
we yearn and pray for in our life? We think
of days when wars no longer threaten- cease
our actions to enjoy our freedom’s link
to all God-given rights of man of Earth.
To live democracy as it should be;
each person has an equal chance from birth
to live without the fear of fight, or flee.
Perhaps we’re not evolved enough to greet
that deep within we are no different than
wild species that engage in fights to eat,
or claim their space- ingrained since time began.
We pray these steadfast patterns, left behind-
instilled in us back in the ancient past,
will mutate to a higher level, find
more God-like ways to deal, make peace at last.
Though many live their days in harmony
with peace and love- the center of their goals,
world leaders bear the cross of keeping free
all nations from disastrous wars and tolls.
This dream of peace, perhaps not in your life
or mine- will this grand miracle ensue?
But still, we march, endure the stress and strife,
and pray that peace on Earth someday is true.
Do not mess with Mama Bear; leave her cubs alone
Or the life you place in peril, could well be your own.
Papa Bear can be ferocious and attack, this is true,
But Mama Bear will do damage and deliver hell 'to' you.
Mama Bear's most treacherous when she is protecting;
Mess with her cubs and she'll definitely be collecting.
Payback is a ***** and know, it will surely be in spades.
You'll wish she was just an alligator in the Everglades!
By the time you realise she's hot upon your trail,
All your efforts to escape will be to no avail.
She'll never lose your scent nor stray from her mission,
Until 'her' satisfaction comes to its fruition.
This could take a looooong time and it likely will,
Since hurting a Mama's cub comes with an attached bill,
A debt that is unpayable according to Mama Bear.
Threaten her world, you will have agony to spare!
Her cubs are her life. Her apron strings aren't ever cut.
If you dare to harm her cubs, expect a new hole in your butt!
She'll accept no excuses; for life you'll be in debt.
On her hook you shall remain and she never will forget!
Hurt a cub of hers and she will surely hunt you down
And only verbs will follow; there's no action in a noun.
The dictionary has no word to describe Mama Bear's wrath
And her ways of retribution are incalculable by math.
Let this be a warning with an urgency to heed.
Dismiss and disregard and face a law decreed.
Mama Bears, when their cub's wellness is at stake,
Seek their own justice should you make this mistake!
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2018-04-14 00:23:00 (EDT)
All rights reserved.
(The final utterance and testament
of a fallen comrade. Belfast 1979)
He
never knew
till he laid there naked.
(A withering heap of travesty.)
How blue the sky
how green the grass,
each tiny blade reminiscent
of a gentle touch from a bygone age.
Each wound on fire,
yet a confound complement
to a burning passion
of a love he was about
to leave behind.
He
saw formidable clouds
begin to threaten
the moment,
yet gently
refreshing droplets
tantalize the mood,
blend with a body
and it’s blood, before
washing a mind
free of it’s pain
forever!
© Harry J Horsman 1994
I have seen the "corners of the world,"
heard the songs of many languages.
I have helped bring peace from many wars,
and played with the poor children of many countries.
I have tasted the fine wines, spirits and beers,
ate the feasts fit for a king, scraps, and dry meal.
I have seen the militias of other countries,
and the destruction of towns and cities due to war.
I have experienced Many Things,
exciting, horrible, memorable and painstakingly unforgettable.
As I lay on my hospital cot,
I slip in and out of consciousness.
I think about the things I have done in my life,
and yet the things I haven't.
My family, my parents, marriage and kids.
I've made my parents proud,
became someone by raising in ranks.
I've brought safety to my country,
joy and pride to my friends and family.
But I haven't had the chance,
to watch my kids grow up and start their life.
To play baseball with my son and coach his soccer team,
to take my daughter shopping or threaten their dates.
I haven't had the chance
to live on in retirement.
To meet my grandchildren and spoil them,
with stories and watch their faces light up.
As I lay looking up at the white
Red Cross tent canvas,
I think about the regrets
that many soldiers grasp, struggle, and
try to push away,
but still continue to crave.
As a soldier goes to leave this world,
there's always those final regrets.
They could be such as the want for
one last cigarette,
one last drink,
one last song,
or even one last intament companion.
Still with different beings,
there are different regrets.
Always one last something,
tangible or not,
something to go away happy,
peaceful minded, blissed, and
pain-free.
*Note: This poem was inspired by Mr. L.A. Meyers who wrote the "Bloody Jack" Series
The Quote of Inspiration: "Trouble is, as a soldier goes to leave this world, he always
has some regrets-- he
still wants one more smoke, one more drink, one more song..." His breathing is becoming
more labored and I
know he is weakenin. "...and one more girl."
I made this to mold any military branch and both females and males.
He made me ponder my greatest fear
not ghosts nor goblins grinning ear to ear
The one that I really fear most
is the one peering back from the mirror
Is he real or will he just disappear
Will anyone remember he was ever here
That person I present
the one white washed and sanitized
representing the best of me
So I become a dim copy rationalized
Manicured, self fantasized
Will my true self ever be realized
Or am I destined to be compartmentalized
packaged pretty, thoughts pasteurized
Does anyone else worry
what others might discover
A mother wife sister or brother
The dark thoughts that make us shudder
that choke the brain and threaten to smother
If they could see inside would they run for cover
So we protect them and ourselves
keep bits hidden away on shelves
Screaming for release but afraid
what might happen if someone tells
We ain't always pretty, stagnant water smells
Instead bang the gong and ring the bells
If it's inside release it with yells
What will happen if we face our thoughts
Is it really us maybe it's not
Are we just scared boys and girls tied in knots
Trying to push it all down deeper
that stuff we've been taught
Take aim, release those expectations
another life can't be bought
Make the best of the one you've got!
For "What you Fear Most" contest.
Nyx opened black arms
threading her twilight fingers
and cradled my awe
to turn my hair, white
she filled my eyes with stars
firing a comet to
the core of my heart
my second breathe
carved dragons of fire,
as Aeolus filled each lung,
Terpsikhore sang music
into the life and death
of this epic
~~~~~
I taste a southerly breeze
catching it on the tip of my tongue
rolling it into my lungs
I sing appegio
to throw a shadow of night
the circle of her arms
has tightened,
and the nebula
in my eyes,
threaten to shoot
from their sockets
I have finally
felt the meteor
lodged in my heart,
move in its longing
for one last blaze
of release,
only the breath of God,
holds for revelation
~~~~~
TERPSIKHORE (or Terpsichore) was one of the nine Mousai,
the goddesses of music, song and dance. In late classical times
--when the Muses were assigned specific literary and artistic
spheres--Terpsikhore was named Muse of choral song and
dancing, and represented with a plectrum and lyre.
AIOLOS (or Aeolus) was the king of the winds who kept the
stormy Anemoi Thuellai and Aellai locked away inside the hollow
heart of the floating island of Aiolia. At the command of the gods
he released these to wreck devastating storms. Since the Winds
were often conceived of as horse-shaped spirits, Aiolos was titled
Hippotades, "the reiner of horses," from the Greek hippos ("horse")
and tadên ("reined in tightly").