Best Tightly Knit Poems
Life is complicated darling,
But I prefer the simple life.
So this is my song to you
For I yearn you’ll be my wife.
Where will I find love tonight?
Tell me darling that it’s you,
When will happy days be mine?
I can’t bear to feel so blue.
I’ve been running round and round,
But my poor heart cannot fit.
Can I beg you on this night?
Let our hearts be tightly knit.
So my darling tell me when
I can’t bear a moment more
Take this ring and just say yes,
Let us make our hearts feel glad.
So my darling tell me when
Yes my love just tell me when!
Every minute seems so far
Every second proves a day
Let pure joy enter our hearts
Please I’ll just show you the way.
Yes our love will conquer all
Let me whisper in your ear
And declare my heart’s desires
I’ve loved you for so long dear.
So my darling tell me when
I can’t bear a moment more
Take this ring and just say yes,
Let us make this heart feel stronger.
So my darling tell me when
Yes my love just tell me when!
There is in the house a hullabaloo
Furore, a fuss, commotion, ado
The in-laws will soon
Return from the moon
Be staying with us, a month, maybe two!
Short notice, their note arrived in the mail
A bolt from the blue, a cause for travail.
Do not get me wrong
We all get along
But we’re in a fix; the house is for sale!
We’re packing our things and are under stress
And as you can guess the place is a mess.
What can we now do!
We don’t have a clue
This issue we must together assess.
The ruckus abates, in silence we sit
On boxes and chairs, our brows tightly knit
Till Susan (who else!)
“Eureka” she yells
She is the most smart, I have to admit.
“We’ll rent the hotel that is down the street
It’s small but enough (her voice is upbeat)
To hold one and all
Let’s give them a call.”
We quickly agree and jump off our seat.
Off season it is, so luck's on our side
We’re happy to get a place to reside...
This surely will cause
Surprise for in-laws
Initial concern we’re putting aside.
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Children’s Limericks Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
Placed 2nd
© 1st December, 2022
We have so much color all around us
so much beauty to fill our senses
everything we see and touch and taste
in the songs we hear
in the scent of lovers mingled
in everything we've been given
there is a rainbow around us.
A multitude of shades and hues
from the bright of light
to the richest deep dark
to the red of blood
the essence of all life
coursing through the flesh
in which we live.
Red the color of life.
But hate has no color
it is void and blank
lashing out in its blindness
not caring at who it strikes
or what it takes.
The smell of hate is rank and vile.
It leaves a bitter taste
on the tongues of all who it touches.
It feeds on our minds
breeds in our hearts
makes us spill precious blood
planting its seed wherever it goes
soiling everything in its path
and fouling the air with its stink.
The color of hate is death
but the color of love
is a rainbow.
Love binds us together.
Unites us.
A tightly knit prism
of many hues blended
each one of us given a choice.
We can sow love into all we do
into every life we touch
and into all that we say
or we can hate.
I choose rainbows.
Growing Up Rich
My childhood home was just four rooms, heated by a black stove in the kitchen.
No phone, no car, a toilet in the basement. Money was tight. The rent had to be paid.
I spent my days in youthful endeavors. Playing baseball in the field where the high school now stands. My dad, a laborer, walked to work each day, every day. My mom typed envelopes at home for extra money.
At dinnertime my mom would ring a cowbell, calling me home. Responding was not an option. I'd ride my bike home, wash my hands, and join the family at the table. Food was not plentiful, but prepared with love. I never went hungry.
In my teens dad took ill and could no longer work. Mom got a job at the Woolworth s
I got two paper routes, my earnings split with my parents.
Neighborhoods were tightly knit then. Bad news arrived home before you did. Fruits of backyard gardens were shared, and helping hands lived right next door
School clothes were few in number, but were always clean and ironed. You took them off after school and donned the jeans with ironed on patches. Shoes were passed down from my brother, their lives extended by glued on half-soles or cardboard, cut to shape and stuffed inside. But mostly, I wore my high top P.F. Flyers.
Christmas meant a cut tree with strings of large colored lights. Our stockings were hung on hooks behind the old black stove, to be filled overnight with oranges, apples, candy, and maybe a toy. We thought we were the luckiest kids in town
Sitting here now, reflecting on my childhood, how hard it must have been to make ends meet, but meet they did. The things my folks must have gone without to make sure their kids didn'. We learned early the value of a dollar. They taught me to respect my elders, to know the difference between right and wrong, and to practice it. Their values became my values and stood me in good stead. Their greatest gifts were the love and guidance they provided
I realize now all my memories are good ones. My folks gave me everything it was important for me to have, and although I didn't realize it then, I understand now how lucky I was to have grown up rich.
Staring from a distance that’s all I could see
A little boy child staring right back at me
His face had so much, so much to tell
“Oh world can’t you see that all’s not well”
There was emptiness, loneliness and prints of insecurity
Coming from his eyes that no one could ever truly see
I was greeted by an absence of abundant smiles
And playful tears drops moving in their very own style
His lips were stain with the saltiness from above
One tightly knit to the other like birds of love
Oh yes he needs a friend but who will that be
Who will be a friend and a true friend indeed
There was no attempt to help no attempt to try
So he was left alone standing so frail and dry
I couldn’t, I couldn’t, I really couldn’t take anymore
I just had to help that boy who was so bitter and sore
So with compassion in my heart and tears in my eyes
I reach out my hands to help the little boy child
But surprising he did just the same thing
Reaching to touch my hands that were aiming towards him
It was then it hit me like a batsman’s swirl
I was only staring into the mirror world.
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 15
The Republic’s an headless Monster to let
Power mad individuals pay to rent head
The State’s enmeshed in the Admin’s red-tape net
The Administration cannot think nor beget
Must obey or its heads will be under-fed
The Republic’s an headless Monster to let
National forces keep borders tightly knit
Secret Police shut People well under lead
The State’s enmeshed in the Admin’s red-tape net
The threat of force often makes the People fret
The use of force comes from the political head
The Republic’s an headless Monster to let
People in modern States have cause to regret
Ritually replacing the Monster’s head
The State’s enmeshed in the Admin’s red-tape net
Cut the head off the Monster replace State to let
In time to come with selfless Robot at the head
The Republic’s an headless Monster to let
The State’s enmeshed in the Admin’s red-tape net
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
There she is, rainbow hued, hazy viewed clues.
The whistle chimed waves clear her unspoken throat.
Pardon Lady's wispy tension, a molder of falling sand.
A maker of details form the reality of dreamlife.
It is not man-made, it's spirit.
From one withheld, on a roof full of heating.
It's the heart vision, it's her only heart vision,
The only seer of the whole.
The sea dragon's bucket of snails
make it through the tunnel portal,
and we all gather through.
There Lady then goes,
off to the Wizard's shell. He's cloaked in
red and white, the colors of woman and man.
They're both pleading, seething,
kneeling beside the shelled faces.
Sparks, that near cover her wreathed, flowered, dress of sea flowers.
As iridescent pyramid easter eggs rain down.
Armored in bright lace, the rhythms of twirls and braids shall
claim pertinence to the deep blue whale's song, the whale clothed
in water, salt, and Lady's most hidden dreams.
A Wizard Whale's Lady, protected with beauty.
Zero point with no ego, no confession to claim.
The breathed memory between her salty fingers
lights a candle to rebirth her soul.
Hello my little fellow,
long lost pearly weeping willow,
I've come to find my ocean.
My voice adorned with sight.
I flew to and from her, a maker of undone.
She was veiled in white memory,
a blanket of weight brushed off her.
A flaming moment floating in her watery hoping heart.
Sunk under sun drenched waters,
gazed shackles flew away.
Exceeding through three door frames,
not separate from the grey portrait of a sculpture.
Tightly knit and finely tuned,
with heavy chisels of confirmation.
I will spit if I have to, and then I will cry after.
For I will only listen to my bloody heart.
The emotions are blatant, the tuned in
question that purge's forth,
is more meaningful with an identity gone.
But we are never lost,
we are dreaming in the ocean's Wingdom,
the Angel's castle cloud held tight.
Love,
Alyssa Couture
The man of which I speak.
Is heartless, shallow yet meek,
Sly and has much wit.
The story begins at the birth.
He was a baby with no considered worth.
They told him quit talking, just sit.
Growing up, it just got worse.
His first crime was a stolen purse.
His parents never even realized it.
He vowed to get even,
For the life which he had been beaten
He told himself to never quit.
He is now a grown up man.
And he decides to make his biggest stand.
He makes his plans, eyebrows tightly knit.
Gathering his mask, bag, and gun,
He wants cash, he going out to get him some.
With no second thoughts or regret.
Nothing stopped him, for nothing could.
He was out to get his prize; even in cold blood.
Through shooting and screaming, the huge fit.
Walking away with his prize,
Disregarding all the lost lives.
Call it evil, call it selfishness, he is all of it.
is short-lived.
Deep.
Like a crypt
yet coherently-linked
with your windblown hair
strewn with rubberclips poly-carbonated.
Candid.
As a sneeze
yet non-allergenic.
On its last seconds,
its supremacy
situated along the alleys of lashes
tightly-knit my lips
as if all-perceiving:
blunt
as a snore
yet
casual
as a yawn
etched
on heart's core.
Be that as it may
as i hang endured
for its sequel...
I would say as if my dreams were real
and try to soothe you while you send me
yours
as if mine would cease
I would step through the sky if stars
would make way
for spells with no end
And cease to hold them dear
in vain
I would invite a trying cause to be my guide
A pain-invoking trial to span my wings
and drip the same tears for peace
inside
I would stay the course for more
retrace a step in sync
And line your heart with words
They would trace this haunted line
invite you inside
And ask humbly
that we don’t cease
And once you feel how far I’d wade
I would ask you simply
if you can brave
Those wondrous seas
with me
My love, I would wade
through the words with you
and arrange the vowels into waves
and the spaces into a tightly knit
float
And ride this lonely tide
against the sun
Its grey would gleefully return to green
And compose an imagined dream into your silhouette
I would answer every quiz you emit
And turn this light to yours,
eternally tuned to me
For like when driven eyes picked yours out
against the sun,
I know no other emotion
And the wondrous seas
of which you speak
Enshrine a glorious mood and never cease
Like pasted tears of love and stateliness
that lie between our hearts…
we can never cease
welcome to the many windowed cityscape
the wanton color of badly mixed paint
with a parade of personal lives
like black stockings full of runs
strafed by formations of overhead birds
whose small eyes think only to judge
passing, teasing wisps of cloudy twirl
confining we dwellers to a sunless cave
thousands and dozens stacked worshipful
stacked tightly knit in churches
longingly longing to be someplace else
Dare not listen
Such cruelity to oneself
Beware your heartness, Mind screams.
But Hearty has become mastermind
Having captured the entire system,
In a web tightly knit
All is forced to bow to the higher order.
We only do as "l" say!
How do tables turns when one is so dreamy alert?
In the four chambers,
All thoughts are held captive.
Diluted from reasoning to sweet fantasy.
"Let's dream together", it seduces
"This will last forever, l can feel it".
Dragged by the nose, all desire follows,
Deep into love land.
Oh! My hearty weaknesses
We agreed that you never listen to me.
How could you believe me?
Am still all yours, only but a broken heart.
Dearest heart, my sweet deceiver,
Again you let us down.
A forceful pungent smell
Hits me from this piece of land
Smeared with the precious blood
Of countless innocent people
Many vultures here hover
Over carcasses
Of several dead
I hear syllables
Of the long familiar refrain
Tightly knit together
Sounding clearer and clearer
At each virtual instance:
Don't leave me in the dark
Don't leave me in complete darkness
Sweet sister
For long have I waited
The light of day
Passionately have I endured
The troubles of the gloomy hours
The sky is unusually starry
And overcast
Morning seems a thousand
Years distant.
Proclivity gave birth
To rapid procreation
Insincerity paved the chance
For lust and greed
Alas, this country is in prison
And constant fears
In morbid grief
And mortal tears.
A magic lump of silver with a Byzantine flower.
Planted on your chest a long time ago.
Awakened by the magic of our 555 kisses,
the silver key became.
Which opens the door to dreams of parallel
lives.
*
Intoxicated, in a crystal boat,
we glide down the green waters of the
mystical river.
You lie on my shoulder and kiss my cheek.
Opium magic voices dripping from juicy lips.
You describe the beauty of our unborn son.
Below is the depth of dreamy water.
*
I stared at the bright emerald tower in the
distance.
Nocturne above Miscatonic castle whispers.
It feeding hope of a trapped past.
And the life of our love without a decade's
sleep.
*
Our hands are tightly knit.
At the doorstep of the Hall of True Love.
Echoes of our steps in consciousness.
As these guardians dragons eat out of your
hand.
*
The sages rushing through the ancient
books.
Around a massive bowl of jade on the
volcanic rock feet.
Inside, our hearts are embraced.
Soaked by magical wine.
--------
I'm a victim of my circumstances....
Like a puppet that to its master dances...
I am a slave to the situation...
Who only imitates with precision....
Before you think I am rude & bad...
Crazy,aggressive or even mad....
Let me tell the real story of mine...
I am a pawn to Fate & Time....!
I am helpless like that tender leaf...
That blows with the Wind's sweep...
I am that paper boat in water....
I am not my own for that matter....
I do what I'm destined to do...
Twisted,turned & trampled too....!
My senses are fastened to that spirit....
& my soul is also tightly knit....
My actions follow that authority...
That controls my moves with ingenuity...
I am a victim of my circumstances....
Not having a say on the occurrences....
I am a slave to the situation....
In a nut shell, I am no one....!