Best Thwart Poems


Premium Member The Vanity of Pleasure

A transitory phenomenon, a grand adulation of opulent desire,
Seeking mirth of heaven on earth, passions ablaze ignite fire,
A destination sought after; pleasure is aim of its cherished theme,
Yet, it ends in vexation and vanity~ it is an illusion, not a dream.

Ephemeral as fog of dawn, as fleeting rainbow on fuchsia arc,
As flirtatious infatuation of sunset~ a splendor before dark,
A fantasy preceding a nightmare~ the reign of pleasure is short;
Alike amber hopes of morn, stygian clouds shroud and thwart.

Follies seeking triumphs eternal, are defeated as failings vain,
Juxta-positioning on feelings of joy, anguish blaring of pain,
Resembling a lunar cycle~ phases of life that wax and wane,
Rising with ambitions of full moon, yet, retreating in disdain.

Authentic is goodwill of divine, presiding over grandeur of life,
Counterfeit are feelings of joy that detour into angst of strife;
Permanent is the flame of heart, lit with sapient, inner light,
Vacuous is search for spurious delight, futile is its phony plight.

Transient pleasure does not yield, if happiness is ultimate goal,
Pursuits mundane, ordinary, fail to satiate enlightened soul;
Contentment can be achieved, despite the ecstasy vanity stole, 
In lasting inner peace and harmony, aspirations virtuous extol.

Premium Member November

...carries the wilted weight of autumn
                                                     in its broken beauty
           with fields of brown stalks,
           unharvested pumpkins that rest like mislaid dreams
                                                      patient where they are

November, detached from the moorings of green
when golden leaves, sparse, cleave to skein branches
                                                   to thwart the creep of cold
the leaf brown baggage below curls at its edges
                                                              like fickle affection 

and yet,
        the busy abundance of harvest
        foretell platters of gratitude 
Thanksgiving 
            a mix of deliverance and charisma
            tangible
            like the elation of coming home

month of nocturnal stabs of frost bring foliage to weeping
          L i s t e n
          L i s t e n
to what murmurs beneath half frozen furrows
fields that know what pushes through seasonal loss
          radical roots
          stored in darkness
          a spring-to-come growth
          thronged with voices
          that never lay
                             far below
                             the surface




Poem written November 6th, 2022

Premium Member The Preacher's Son

A lonely figure twirls itself, concealed
by blades of wheat as clouds float through the sky.
The form, a boy, looks up from golden field
and sees the clouds as wedges of cream pie.

He hides despair as if it were that wart
beneath his sleeve.  A no-fuss, lonesome lad,
he thinks of things most wonderful to thwart
forlornness. . . He rehearses being glad.

Skipping to the thicket, near a brier,
he spies some lovely flowers; standing there
he uses the demeanor of his sire,
pretends to hold a Bible, thumps the air. . .

and preaching to forget-me-nots, the boy
imagines what might be. . . imagines joy.


For Chris' Anything goes!


Premium Member Cleaning House

Look into my heart Oh Lord.
See who I truly am;
For You alone can know it,
Can truly understand.

Be a lamp unto my feet,
A sword to thwart my foe.
Light the corners of my mind,
Where fear and hate can grow.

Enter my mind and lock it's door,
To hate and lust and pride.
Arm me with Your mighty Word,
And be my faithful guide.

Show me where my true faults lie,
And help me make it right,
That I may come before Your Throne,
Acceptable in Your sight.

                                 Amen
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.

The Class Guide

Me....,
a shy ..,
 and 
bashful guy
always kept me.,
confined to last bench..
down my head,
huddled heart ,
blenched my breathes and 
arms always clenched..


Staring with a thief eye
to each one 
around  me 
but confrontation
was not my forte .,
this fragility always
kept  me away 
from my very interest
and invariably
was a thwart ..

   
New day in the class,
New teachers and 
Classmates too.,
but for me
each day was new
and each one., who? 


Newly painted class 
curtained each side .,
The Teacher announces
our new class guide...


In actual fact
I wasn't a beauty gaper .,
but this time
she forced me too sharper...
hardly I lavished my time 
in any admiration..,
but this would give,
drive to my contemplation.., 
breaking the ice to her
difficult and caffeine  beauty
eyes were clear and watered ,
lips were glossy and frooty..


Tallest and 
her collar in the same way.,
I stared alot but
kept her eye away..
walk like breeze 
silent and cool
smile like blooming lily.,
none of her company
can stand by her
she was the perfect dilly..


Crowd would stop
while she starts 
mostly buring in vex.,
she wants pin drop silence 
 in the class .,otherwise,
 bitter pills to suspects..


The same rain
I got whole year .,
Whole year 
I got ,
teacher will start ,
we all will set ,
and I will get lost .,
The last day of
this beautiful phase 
I was loosing carelessly.,
No courage,
No rescue ,
The day cutting readily ..

God miracle  or 
some boon ,
when she came ,  
in her black shoon..,
shrinking and shy 
asked me a favour.,
Reaching to the seventh heaven
I started quiver..


Yea....Yea ....
I did it
and then asked my will... 


Very courageous., 
honestly it was
to utter such word.,
but......,I knew 
It was the
last chance
and never again for
me....., 
such a coward..


So....I did 
did it fast. 
listening it....,
she got locked. 
'No Words'
 she said
but I .....,
I did it. 
did it. 
Yea..., 
I do.
 
                                                                                                by-Shagun
© Ra Shagun  Create an image from this poem.

Listing To Port

There was a fellow riding a certain train,
And he posted an unpopular refrain,
In it he said, the innocents are dead,
With politicians and voters to blame.

To choose is what many profess, 
And we wouldn’t have anything less,
But our elected use quill, translate that to kill,
And babes end in a mell of a hess.

And into a health bill of lying rot,
They force objectors to kill who would not,
Adding more of their pork to so called choice,
A choice to fool many voters they sought.

Politicians and media corral voters into believing,
Bills laced with hidden agendas they’re feeding.
They make a predator fat as a sly old rat,
At the expense of a still birthed nation in grieving.

When a nation cares more for turtle or whale,
And the desire for virtue goes stale,
You’ll see a Mother’s precious womb,
By choice, become nation’s tomb,
And lawmakers growing a tail.

Don’t let the almighty dollar deceive you,
Or your sense take leave and flee you,
Take a look around before you’re ground,
Into the dust of this obvious preview.

The moral of the story is true and really quite short,
Justice has been given a hell of a thwart,
You may think it ***** but the end of freedom is near,
Our great ship is sinking in it’s port.








,


Give a Man a Sea-Kitten

Give a man a sea-kitten,
And you feed him for a day.
Teach a man how to sea-kitten,
And PETA will make him pay.

I guess there isn’t much to say,
We’re gonna eat them either way,
Because the message here being conveyed
Does not have to do with fish per se.

Instead we feel the need to build
A foundation where we can rest our guilt.
Or where we can sway, or push, or tilt
The basis of sanity. And watch it wilt.

Humans are actually land-dodos.
A tree is also a green-giraffe.
But no name we will ever sow
Will ever cease to make me laugh.

I mean, how bored do you have to be
In a world with war and disease uprising
To stop what you’re doing and decide: “Here see,
Fish are in trouble. Start compromising.”?

Man is the measure of these extents.
The apex of idiocy slips his mind,
And thus he chooses to invent
Another means to thwart mankind.

We’re defending the rights of things we need.
Things we need for survival, like skin.
And in our greed we fail to read
The paradox lying herein and within.
Among all the things that humans bleed for,
Nothing more imbecilic has ever been,
Than renaming the fish of which we feed
Into something like sea-kitten.

“And then Jesus blessed the sea-kittens,
He broke the bread and divided it amongst 5000 people.”
© Gael Attal  Create an image from this poem.

Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Tums

My wife and I went for a cruise in the Caribbean Sea,
I decided that I would talk like a pirate ‘till she got sick of me.

I told her that I was going to steal a look at her treasured chest,
Or get my hands on her booty whichever I liked the best.

And if she’d shiver me timber I told her that I would swash her buckle,
She didn’t think too much of my offer but it made me start to chuckle.

I twisted one hand into a gnarled hook and even fashioned for her a peg,
I kept it up until, “Please stop this pirate business,” she began to beg.

But it seems I had an enemy trying to thwart me on the cruise,
A buffet line or my beautiful wife, which one would I choose?

And then they fired their big guns at me from the dessert buffet table,
The carbs took the wind from my sails until my libido wasn’t able.

When you sail the sea with a fork in hand your love life will be fleein’,
Try your best not to surrender yourself to the pie plates of the Caribbean.
© Tony Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Whispers of Your Soul

Born without knowledge, seeking its course clear
Whether to search with the external eye,
or turn inward towards darkness, to hear
To find each minuscule need must comply
I'll question the soul, as though we are two
and seek answers from its soft voice within
To listen in silence for wisdom that's new
A guiding line, where my thoughts begin
To be in awe of life's visual scene
A universe illusions often thwart
A world unknown to all but me, between
I'll find serenity in my soul's comfort

To release my breath, free my soul that's bound
and listen to soft inner peace I've found

Gandhi

Gandhi


What principle stimulated or stirred this Guy
Which Doctrine or what Teaching did he buy?

Sauntering on sandals and wrapt on his robe
Miles that he treaded traversed entire Globe.

He taught of pure Love- Peace did he teach
Violence did he spurn- Tolerance did he preach.

Vision in his keen Eyes, wouldn’t we enact
Pain or Punishment which couldn’t detract?

Thin, sturdy legs of Master of tireless trudges
Preacher of Peace who was averse to grudges;

Of all his strengths; non surpassed his Heart
Which Wickedness had reasons to thwart!

Pivot of all Races, and a hub to every Creed-
Afford Tree he planted to bear Fruit and Seed!


***For those who hold as sacrosanct Teachings of this Great Teacher, Leader, Lawyer & Philosopher in his immortalised quest for Non-violence and Tolerance in Politics & Religion and to those who are prepared to die for it!


JM

12th Nov’ 2013

Premium Member The Mighty One

The Mighty One
(A Description of “Scene du deluge”)

He straddles jutting rocks beneath a pall
of sky. Beneath is swirling water, and
the crooked arm of one lone tree is all
he’s found to cling to with his left curled hand.

An older man, who also grasps the tree,
upon the young man’s sturdy back is borne.
His legs are dangling. Awful weight is he
for him who stands exposed, his clothing torn.

His wife hangs from his other hand. One breast
is clutched by her small babe, and from her strains
another child to keep from dark waves’ crest.
The burden of them all - one man sustains!

Can he, mere mortal, thwart their cruel demise?
Stark terror holds the answer in his eyes.

**Many years ago I visited the Louvre, and there I beheld a picture by Girodet of the romantic 
era . This painting stood out for me because of its depiction of a family in such huge peril 
that they were totally dependant on one man and  only his strength could save them all. If 
you copy and paste this link, I hope you might see this stunning picture. The picture's name 
translates to "Scene of a Flood" 

http://www.postershop.com/Girodet-De-Roussy-Trioson-Anne-Louis/Girodet-De-Roussy-
Trioson-Anne-Louis-Scene-De-Deluge-1165956.html

As Dawn Softly Stirs

As dawn softly stirs, wistful musings touch my mind.
A balmy morning mist is silently drifting on the air.
It's as though I've left the wretched world behind.
All I'm able to hear are songbirds singing with flair.

Gratefully, I offer thanks in an early morning prayer.
At the cusp of daylight, when my world is aligned,
there's an aura of peace of which I become aware,
as dawn softly stirs, wistful musings touch my mind.

In these meditative moments I am never inclined
to dwell upon anxieties and burdens that I bear.
No threat of harm bothers me, even when I find
a balmy morning mist is silently drifting on the air.

In these tranquil interludes, I perceive no despair.
I'm free from life's fetters without feeling confined.
I don't dwell on traps or those who set the snare.
It's as though I've left the wretched world behind.

I'm cognizant of the dilemmas that thwart mankind,
hardships and wars. From the fate of these, beware. 
There's slandering of innocent ones, those maligned.
All I'm able to hear are songbirds singing with flair.

We must not allow ourselves to be labeled or defined
as a conflicted society when we should show we care.
To living with anarchy, we must not become resigned.
Let's reflect on a better way of life that we can share,
                                                as dawn softly stirs.


June 7, 2022
A Rondeau Redouble Contest
Sponsor: Milt Hankins

Lament of My Life


                      Lament of my life.



Destined life i lived but unfulfilled,
Much had to do,my tears spilled,

Down in white ,peaceful my body lies
Happy to meet God, invisible,my soul flies,

Earth,a stage,different roles to play on,
Multiple opportunities,life was a unique platform,

In responsibilities ,i was good enough,
To balance ,right wrong was indeed tough,

No regrets for family,money and claims,
Bad luck,unstable life my illness to blame,

To beat it, i was in armature , my second aim,
Hope for fellow sufferers,the damn disease i'll tame,

Like a bolt from the blue,unexpectedly it struck,
Trapped in the whirlpool,my mental energy to suck,

Family and friendship bonds anchored for support,
Still,for what reason, my forte got more to thwart?

Much for good,i would have given to the world,
A life of normalcy,a gift,if i had unfurled,

Alas! I could not explore galore,
My potential in the dark void did allure,

Missed the epic moment when i could be more than me,
My purpose in life would have got a meaning to be,

At the edge of life i did meet poetry soup,
Rare of a place,solely an encouraging,friendly group,

In dust,my body is unmoving, not frail,peaceful,it has no pains,
But on earth,personal vacuum haunts and fighting spirit remains.


Contest:Lament of my life.
Sponsor:Casarah Nance.
17 March 2016

Marked

Dr. Evil,
pacing back and forth in his laboratory,
had a vexing problem he was trying to solve
How to get the masses
to let corporate government
have complete control of their lives
Then came a thought from the dark side

Give them free access to all

Let their greedy little minds
be able to lust after all they see
Give them internet with content unfettered
Keep them chained to the screen,
to thwart their ability to not comply
Condition them to believe mind-control is better

No more free thought or free will divine

Herd them into sites
that will allow them to gorge with delight
on all of their most lewd and animalistic desires
Buy this, sell that
Indulge in banal, weird chit-chat
Every perversion of the mind is now hardwired

Let their imaginations run free

Then offer them a microchip
for a small fee and a snip
Oh they gladly will do all that you say
if you promise not to take away,
take away their virtual stimuli fix
Resistance purged, resistance nixed

Once they willingly go under the laser knife,
those poor bastards then will be marked for life
Once their freewill is willingly sacrificed,
yes, those lost souls will then be marked for life

Premium Member The Word

The WORD was there before the dawn of time
His Voice, unheard by any living soul
Most Holy God proclaimed His grand design
with sounds so pure it made the angels glow.

Creator God, who knew the heart of man
desired faithfulness, a choice to make
the enemy was near to thwart God's plan
yet sacrifice would cover for Loves' sake.

One holy night the Promised One appeared
God's only Son, the WORD, came in the flesh
to preach the gospel truth for all to hear
He came to save mankind from sin and death.

Then He arose, triumphant from the grave
and from above He'll come again someday.




Written on 5/12/2016

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