Best Tolerable Poems
The sun remains hidden behind a blanket of gray on this snowy winter afternoon. It doesn't matter. Gone for now are the playful sailors who dart about Salt Fork lake in better weather. The blackbirds caw from atop the old oaks that inhabit this place, their pleas echoing in the still and silence that surrounds us. Hawks circle high above in hopes of spotting prey, riding thermals like the leaves that softly ride the chilling wind. The cold feels invigorating and lets us know we are fully alive. Love is a celebration to be held during all of the four seasons, the seasons of the years of our lives. Time whooshes by and yet slows to a crawl when we are here, our respite from the storms of life. Today, and every day, we bow to our Maker and give thanks for the snippets of peace that make life tolerable, even enjoyable for a time. We are here. We are alive. We are in love. And the world is a little better place than it was yesterday.
living in the moment
watching the sparrows in peace
time stands still for two
Categories:
tolerable, peace, romantic love,
Form:
Haibun
Musky fragrance inundates
my nostrils as I enter
the garden center:
a rhapsodic feeling
in idyllic surroundings.
The air is humid
like an Amazon garden,
heat barely tolerable
making my glasses misty.
Soft music, dulcet and sweet,
swamp the amazing conservatory. The caterpillar had shed off its chrysalis,
and a perfect swallowtail butterfly appears.
It fluttered here and there
tasting the marvelous flowers around.
My cup of felicity abounds.
All around a miscellany of colors
enticing the radiant buyer with anything
that catches his fancy,
and I, mad about plants,
run in frenzy
from pot to pot,
stand to stand,
plot to plot,
inflame my smell nerves
with sweet sapphire orchids,
enchant my eyes with
white bearded irises,
become delirious with
a blood red amaryllis,
inhale the fragrance
of a white gardenia,
or lose my mind
on a black eyed Susan.
Which exotic plant must I choose?
It would be my talisman for my home
What shall I buy?
A red pyramid astilbe,
multi-coloured plethora of petunias or
scented forget-me-nots?
Or better still a dwarf
Deep red rose?
I feel my empty pockets,
I let out an ephemeral sigh,
and go back home,
empty handed alas.
Categories:
tolerable, flower, garden,
Form:
Free verse
i have had moments in life
where the vortex becomes silent
those minutes spent in halcyon rapture
away from the maelstrom of hours
when the soul must be refreshed
to pause in the wonder of it all
listen to the soft murmuring sounds
as doves nearby roost
oh i could easily give wings
return to the hurried world
but these minutes as i listen
i know well their place in the order
of life's duties calls
a respite to refresh the soul
with a heaven-sent cooing
and as Emily did note
they asked nothing of me
joyous in the nobody we are
leaving me treasures in song
minutes that make tolerable the hours
more so the width of life, its song
to breathe the breath given to us all
the euphoria in a dove's murmurings
OKC 6/22
Categories:
tolerable, happiness, solitude,
Form:
Free verse
Always salty and usually bitter
help encourage the spitter —
still better than the wonts
and those dreaded donts —
saved by the tolerable quitter.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Written: 05.08.21
Contest: Quitters Never Win
Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
Categories:
tolerable, giving, humor, humorous, lust,
Form:
Limerick
I dig into the open wounds of self preservation,
and hear
...from way over there,
my love jingling in your pocket
as if it were the loose change
in your wet dreams.
You were always numb to the mirror,
taking comfort in the blind eyed
discontent you've reigned in
with hard strokes of denial,
making your makeup seem
a little more made up in the dim lighting
of reflection.
Don't you think?
It was never about making love,
it was about forgetting.
My hips were a glowing red exit sign,
on the route of
....screwing life away.
Each moan, a promise that
even though you were dead inside,
you could still make a piece of the
world shake.
Maybe even make something break.
And that made everything seem
a bit more tolerable...
until I started thanking you
for the damage inflicted.
The pain I felt, assurance
that I was alive.
I'm not sure why that
took the fun out of it
for you..
I still screamed bloody murder
when you sunk your teeth into
newly adjusted nerve endings..
The pain, more real than ever before.
I guess you never meant to
take a ride with someone just as
damaged as you.
You were hoping to be the only
ghost in this city, still bound
to a carnal playhouse.
But baby..
I was a corpse long before I had any change to spare.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
Categories:
tolerable, break up, imagery, life,
Form:
Free verse
Never being there hurt you so
Desiring to help me grow
Help my childhood progress
It made you feel worthless
What AM I taking about?
Cause day in day out
You missing me was a joke
You never loved what you broke
Another too lost and scared
Though I can’t say I never cared
And I can’t say I’m not sad
But even you should know dad
That never coming to see me
I dealt with to a tolerable degree
And that I’ll always question
When I’ll hear your confession
Will I ever get to see you dad
Or have I truly been had
I guess I have to wait some more
‘Cause it’s always you I’ll be looking for
Categories:
tolerable, daughter, father, life, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Another sleepless night
A went back in time litany of failures
What I wanted to do I never did
My happiest time was when living alone
In the interior of Algarve
I walked with my dogs in the woods had
Learned conversation with an oak
While the dog chased rabbits.
Six happy years what more can a man ask.
Turbulent water ahead I drank too much
The dog died, and my loneliness became a burden
Pressing me into apathy.
Well, life became tolerable again,
but my contentment was never the same.
My old house is standing there unsold
It is my life raft should the hard time arrive and
The ship sinks in a storm cast.
I live in another town it will do for now and
I’m too tired to move again, I know from experience
Wherever I go, I will meet myself in the doorway.
Categories:
tolerable, allah, allusion, anger, anti
Form:
Blank verse
TITANIC
The seawater around my ankles is so cold
Who’d have thought in this final moment
That when my time is near, I’d be smiling
Well, it is more of an ironic grin, perhaps
Damn those tea leaves, they kind of knew
I just scoffed – back then, but not now
As the deck lurches again, and I stumble
Some muffled creaking sounds from above
Who would be in any doubt that we’re lost
I guess the North Atlantic claims another
And all that I have to record my thoughts
Is a fountain pen and a pile of wet paper
Back in my cabin that’s somewhere nearby
My unfinished novel, what inspiration now
None will ever read it or remember me
Some forgotten prospective author, huh
The cold water is now lapping at my waist
I have nowhere to go, except … down
These last few years have been tolerable
But my New York debut will have to wait
Probably a very long time. Ghost writers.
I could have made it in the land of dreams
Leaving the damp fog of London behind
There are none nearby who will listen
Except that one face down over there
But now the last lights have gone out
It’s dark now, so all I have is my thoughts
And this damned water making me float
As my head now bumps on the ceiling
What a voyage this was, clearly to oblivion
So there is no-one to say goodbye to
Except the fish, when they investigate
So long and all the best - better than me
I’ll see Davy Jones when I check in soon
Just thoughts, eh. I expected to do better
Categories:
tolerable, death, fate, sea,
Form:
Free verse
Caffeine High
He works like a well-oiled machine
But only when filled with caffeine
No power within
The caffeine is just a smoke screen
He won’t even stop for cuisine
So he’s string-bean thin
Phenomenal woman, Carolyn Devonshire illustrates her uniqueness as poetess in this clever and witty poem “Caffeine High.” After looking over all her list of poems on this site, I failed to come up with any particular poem that I liked better than the others, I like them all, therefore, I chose this particular one. Though “Caffeine High” demonstrates only two of her many skills, passions and unique abilities as a writer, her poems are those that I would expect to see survive the trials of the changing times, and be among the uniqueness of the greats. I have been privileged to know Carolyn for some three years, and have co-written at least one poem with her. Her faith in equality and dislike for bigotry flavors the notion of emphasis in each piece of her work, and never is there any dismissal of another’s ideals.
The poetic endeavors of Carolyn flavor an impression upon myself that I will carry with me as being outstanding as long as I walk through this earthly valley of the shadow of death until reaching the portals of the absolute and beyond. Her type of writing, it’s passionate quality, will definitely be viewed as one that made the current state of humanistic evolvement more tolerable. She has been and her poetry, a great source of encouragement for my own lack in ability in expressions of my own passions in what inwardly I knew were facts of truths that needed written. To a dear friend a personal salute, Agape, John Moses Freeman.
Categories:
tolerable, funny, poems,
Form:
Tail-rhyme
Why do you come now?
Why do you besiege me
with your fowl unholy presents?
You are the Prince of Darkness,
the keeper of tormented souls,
you are Satan himself are you not?
Oh call me what you wish!
History has seen fit to adorn me
with many provocative names
and I detest each one of them.
For they perpetuate the myth
that every bit of the world's evil
springs directly from my loins.
Why do you come now?
Why do you torment me?.
I have been a great man of God.
I spread his word with relentless zeal
wielding the sword of righteousness
toward all I deemed evil and wicked.
Why I have come to take you home.
You have been a fantastic disciple.
Few have served our cause better.
You have made the worst sins
tolerable to the great masses.
Cloaking evil under Godly robes
was a masterful work of genius.
No! No! This cannot be?
God has spoken through me.
I have been his earthly conduit.
I am one of God's chosen people.
I devoutly followed his teachings
and actively preached his word.
You perverted God's so called revealed word
into a twisted rendition of your own creation.
You stoked the fears of the ignorant into a inferno
and reaped all you could from the true believers.
You have spawned a most delicious type of hatred.
One that will continue to bear fruit for years to come.
Evil has many faces, but none more hideously vile
than those who hide behind the curtain of religion.
Categories:
tolerable, bible, evil, psychological,
Form:
Narrative
“What is the use of a house if you haven`t got a tolerable planet to putt it on.”
Henry David Thoreau
****************************************************************
Global Warming
what have we done
for glaciers to melt so fast
for forest fires to flare so often
for tornadoes to rage so strongly
for droughts to occur oft and anon
for flash floods to recur time and again
Categories:
tolerable, environment, inspirational, life,
Form:
Other
My BROTHERS --the Cherokee ---you may refer to me as cross-breed-- or not.
As an ancestor ----if it’s your aspiration?
My Grandmother----half Cherokee- half Blackfoot----as the old tales were told.
Citizenship with your sovereignty —till she was three—that I discovered-
with-in her descendants origin.
My Grandmother ---bought off your reservation after your----- relocation.
Bought by my Grandfather a “white-man” -------to the root!!
172 years belated —consider this --a cross-breeds apology--an accolade --to your entire-
nation.
A nation and PEOPLE-- forcibly removed in 1838-----by the U.S. Government.
Hundreds of Cherokee died----- Who Walked the Trail of Tears.
A NATION and PEOPLE-- vehemently abolished in 1838.
By the U.S. Government---with-in President Andrew Jackson’s administration.
Consider this a cross-breeds apology --with a symbol- ----eternally existing.
Of the anguish and affliction on the Trail Where They Cried--- the symbol of the Cherokee-
rose--that still grows------- that still grows!
Consider this a cross-breeds Tribute to Those Who Walked --that Trail --filled with-
Cherokee Tears.
No words can justify-- no expression can advocate --- what Jackson’s administration-
arranged.
No apology, no apology, would seem adequate or tolerable---to ONE human race.
Notably ----your NATIVE RACE!!
Innumerable thousands have spoken their inadequate and intolerable claims.
Knowing only one and only one-- honest, respectful, faithful, and trustworthy vindication-
would have sufficed.
Consider this-- cross-breeds desire for -----Forgiveness.
Forgiveness for any ancestral involvement---in the mass genocide of your civilization.
Healing our nation --from OUR CURSE—must embark from hear—hear at forgiveness.
Forgiveness extended by --OUR CREATOR---to our race and yours.
By : WEM/MEW/EWM
Categories:
tolerable, forgivenessgrandmother,
Form:
Epic
A cowpokes life is a rough one and when he draws his monthly pay,
He mounts his hoss and gallops to town to visit the local cabaret.
He scrubs the manure from his boots and dons a decent pair of jeans,
Hopin' to find some tolerable grub instead of bacon, biscuits and beans!
He spends his days herdin' ornery longhorns and fixin' barbed wire fences,
Ridin' in nasty weather and eatin' dust 'til he nearly loses his senses!
Fer all of this he expects some decent grub at the end of ever' day,
But Cooky dispenses bacon, biscuits and beans the same as yesterday!
Chuck is served up on battered tin plates and tin cups fer slurpin' joe,
And if'n you don't like it, Cooky is mighty quick to tell ya where to go!
The fellers complain to the trail boss but it don't do a damn bit of good.
He tells 'em, "If'n you don't like it here, find yerself another livelihood!"
At the cabaret he's confounded by the chinaware and fancy silverware,
And instead of sittin' on the ground to eat, he sits on a rickety chair!
He consumes a colossal steak with sweet peas and smashed pertaters,
A couple of beers and a salad of onions, lettuce and fresh termaters.
He and his old cayuse slowly meander back to the ranch to hit the hay,
But he'll return to the cabaret next month when he collects his meager pay.
He savored his scrumptious meal of countless calories and proteins,
'Cause he knows that tomorrow he'll be eatin' bacon, biscuits and beans!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Categories:
tolerable, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
I sit at my computer musing and trying to compose meaningful verse.
Try as I might with Shakespearian panache my lines to intersperse,
With profound nuggets of enlightenment to attain universal fame,
My concentration is lost in a fog, like an ever-changing movie frame!
I suppose I could blame this dilemma on my dear, long-suffering spouse.
She's cooking beef stew for supper - the aroma is wafting about the house!
Now, how am I to concentrate on versifying when my palate is just itchin',
To delve into that delectable ambrosia she's slaving over in the kitchen!
Ah! I can hardly wait to taste that mouth-watering olio awaiting me!
She makes the best in town, tossing all kinds of stuff in that potpourri!
Of course there is the best of beef that she has tenderized and diced,
And the scrumptious gravy with exotic herbs she has liberally spiced!
She adds sweet peas, a tolerable amount of corn and russet pertaters,
And just enough onions for my taste, green peppers and fresh termaters!
Green beans, carrots and a tad of celery top off this fantastic brew!
Le Cordon Bleu Chef at the Ritz dare not concoct a more elegant stew!
Alas, I've wasted all afternoon trying to hatch up some credible rhyme,
But my thoughts have been consumed with that ragout laced with thyme!
Ah! My wife announces supper is ready so I'm gonna load my plate!
That poetic masterpiece I had in mind today will just have to wait!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
tolerable, food, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
Here it comes again, the daily reminder ...
cold sweats out of nowhere that hit me like a slap
on the face, my entire body turning clammy wet in an
instant, three-or-four times every day. Then there's the
uncontrollably exaggerated yawning and eyes that won't stop
watering, a runny nose as if instant hay fever, and that nearly in-
tolerable creepy muscle thing ... that's the worst symptom of all by
far, (akathisia, it's called), because you CAN'T hold still - all your bones
and muscles have to move at once, or you quite simply can NOT tolerate it.
I always say a prayer that it only happens a few
times each day, and only lasts for a short time, but
to be honest, it's a nightmare, and inside I'm cursing ...
cursing myself for this reminder. The reminder of a terribly
bad decision that I made thirty years ago. Oh, my "problem"
is under control, thanks to a wonder drug that did indeed save
my life, (when my heart stopped thrice), and while I no longer abuse
anything, that accursed monkey is still there, riding me like a two-dollar
mare, and reminding me a few times each day, that it's completely in control.
Yes, I'm alive and writing this because of it, and
as thankful as a human can be, truly, but I'm light-
years from the obliged kiss-off I dream about giving it.
You see, it creates another problem all its own, one they
don't tell you about when you start on "The Program", that
this particular monkey, while having the power to save your life,
is also the strongest, most tenacious monkey that exists, by FAR,
and the chance of you ever giving it that dreamed-about final goodbye,
are easily the longest odds you've ever had, especially with a weakened heart.
But you push your mind to try to remain thankful
nonetheless, because after all, you ARE still alive ...
alive and kicking and getting these wonderfully horrific
reminders each day, of just how little control and charge
and health and power you have over your own life ... alive
and moving through life like you have a giant condom on your
body and mind and emotions, not really FEELING or emoting or
experiencing much of anything in the way a human being SHOULD be,
but alive and breathing and functioning ... you ARE still alive ... aren't you?
Categories:
tolerable, drug, irony, metaphor,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue