Best Transitional Poems

Transitional Tears


A r d u o u s  day, both sunny and gloomy.

the payment sought — a trundle of great worth.

My tender eyes in  t r a n s i t i o n a l  tears —

the dew of pink and...

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Creativity opens doors to learning
to read our own, and others’, compelling literacy,
beautiful truths.

We are not an isolated supreme species creating nihilism,
self-serving ego hedonists;
or, rather, we are,
but within an open sesame systemic potential
for also becoming more grace-filled cooperative,
endo with ecto symbiotic evolutionaries

learning to read nature’s re-ligioning...

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The house does not hide
Crying out in different ways
Shards fly with wings of their own
I see the world outside
At the end of the dimly lit corridor
There are 10 doors to my left
10 doors to my right
They command me to enter
Lights flicker animatedly
My eyes move furtively
The...

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winter's
ending;

spring is
pending.

cool and
pleasing

but so
fleeting.

sun beams
greeting

cool breeze
soothing

spring hue
winning

flowers
springing

sweet birds
singing.

all those
waiting,

for spring's
coming,

will be
humming.

_________

April.3.2023

~ Placed Second~

Brian Strand Premiere. No 1205 Poetry Contest...

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Who do we invite this me to be today,
here and now planning for our next arising era
toward death's patient resolution,
graceful resonance?

Is there some supermagical meaning 
in more recent unfortunate events
capable of reading mystical tea leaves?
the web of palms rooted in life's soul of Time?
in some...

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a person aged from 13 to 19 years.
I am, no longer twelve
adolescence I am youth
Adolescence and I am in a transitional stage
I am a young person
Why? Is everyone always telling me what to do
I'm a minor
Adolescence and I am in a transitional stage
Nothing more finer
I'm...

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vital impulse 
and I climb into my grey Ford 
I hold the steering wheel 
not to hit the car 
instinctively I twist 
on the left 
on the right 
should not I die 
because I want to get off 
After your breasts ... 
after I hear...

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a youth that sees a being
of height to be an idol,
too innocent to realise
the turbulence to come. 

with rebellion a foe is found,
at heads over trivial things,
spoken speech cannot be refunded,
a phase it's claimed,
but a reflection reminds, 

traits of disagreement to familiar to say,
a memory...

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What gets possibly gained from poetic encounters?
A friendship sets sail though mast’s shadows can’t merge
more than sheets in the wind that two sailors might set in defiance
of oceans, whose trembling waves surf on their opposite shores?

Is it likely ship’s rhythm survives breeze filled waters,
a leaning,...

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Amongst the fractured,not yet broken
I move amidst the homeless,tokens
our countries hidden and forgotten
circumstance, of a life they're fightin'

Backpack and sleeping bag in tow
I go,to know,this growing show
cardboard cover's,plastic liner's
discarded mattress make's it finer
there is no breakfast,lunch or dinner
any meal,makes you feel,like a winner
dinner roll's,vienna sausage
gourmet...

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Pathways have no boundaries,
thinker was without a thought.
Hostile mind refuses to believe
truth was missing from life.
From depth to depth measurement had failed.
God does not know his creation now.

Foolish flesh now burns in thudding bangs
of dry butter. I want you to touch the 
opaque eyes of...

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"As I leave
this compound body
of flesh and blood
I will know it to be
a transitory illusion."

Could transitory
embodied illusions
become mindbody gateways
toward transitional systemic illumination?

Could hybrid mind/bodies,
sacred/secularized thoughts,
spiritual/naturalized neurological feelings
of attachment
to harmonic self/other resonance
ego/eco-perpetuating
inside/outside climates of peace
restoring Earth Justice CoAttachment
also become CoOperative sensory experience
of Integrity's Universal Promise?

Could climax...

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Trump, The Transitional President

I looked at the 2025 official portrait of Donald Trump
and thought about Mount Rushmore
and how Borglum would have sculptured the rock
to include the Transitional President
into the ‘Shrine of Democracy’ of nation builders,
passing the torch from one generation to another.
“Donald Trump (1946–): 45th....

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the seasons always treated him with all kinds of rain shine and  storms

but he was never the fall guy and enjoyed deviating from dogma and norms


with fresh springs in his step he rebelled as if there was no future tomorrow

which brought him satisfaction and...

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