Best True Poetry
Images of children dwelling in developing world
In plight of poverty~~ some two billion strong,
Fly a flag of existence, waving distress unfurled,
Crooning mournful song: is this where we belong?
Struggling in parched lands of bared dreary sights
World they live in is the world they have known,
Where days of emptiness cede to dreary nights
Churning nightmares as dreams vacant bemoan.
Wishing upon an angel~ I would endeavor to plead
For turning places despaired into domains of hope,
For means to educate, learn skills, write and read,
For rewriting will of destiny, while striving to cope.
If I could bend sorrow and the fate of tomorrow
Seeds of knowledge I’ll sow in the dreaded woe
Marveling the fields of wisdom sprout and grow
As minds edified glow, defying misery’s shadow.
My wish for peace echoes benevolence spurred
As hymns of unity in the temple of goodwill toll
And calls of equity from endearing hearts heard
Reverberate harmony in euphony of sublime soul.
I wish upon a candle, for world to join a sing-along
Lauding pledges of love to spur the youth on and on
Cheering to acclaim: this is where the kids belong~
In benevolence of hearts, over seven billion strong.
June 13, 2022
Placed 1st: If Only My Wish Would Come True Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
I began to tell of the two pens (my couplet) I always carry tucked away in my shirt
pocket, and of my humble closet which contains nary a pocketless shirt.
My thoughts drifted to what by.. and how I am inspired, when my love and I began speaking
of a subject very dear to me.
When we finished .... in what I believe to be an infused prayer,...perhaps inspiration to
some,... I saw what seemed to be liquid glass like droplets ..falling slowly from above ..
as a slow motion shower into an atmosphere of what may have been, space and time. I saw
no earth or sky.
These liquid glass droplets were falling without disruption through a pellucid barely
recognizable outline of a figure that I perceived to be a poet.
Somewhere from within I asked why the poet could not be lined somehow with a shell to
capture these apparently valuable liquid glass treasures. They were so clear that the
atmosphere through which they were falling, appeared as a gloom gray.
I understood that these treasures cannot be contained or retained. They must fall
through the poet who must also be like these liquid luculent treasures in order that these
particular gifts may come through the poet ..continuing to transform same and all others who
allow these treasures to permeate them.
There is no clearer description within me to give. ...
And then... I was no longer free and came back into the pain,
discomfort and seemingly bloated entity
within this shell.. that I call me.
As I step out into the warm summer breeze
I take a few moments to offer a quick prayer
Uncustomarily, on grass, I drop to my knees,
And I wish for you love.
Sweet peace flows over me in a velvety layer
As I lift my voice to the author of all good things
I take a few moments to offer a quick prayer,
And I wish for you love.
Rising to my feet, I could swear my heart sings
I continue to pray silently to the loving God,
As I lift my voice to the Author of all good things,
And I wish for you love.
My feet planted firmly in the greenish sod
I know that warm feeling of unconditional love
I continue to pray silently to the loving God,
And I wish for you love.
From the heavens comes a light from above
As I step out into the warm summer breeze,
I know that warm feeling of unconditional love
Uncustomarily, on grass, I drop to my knees,
And I wish for you love.
[modified Terzenelle w/Refrain]
THIRD PLACE WINNER
Written May 28, 2022
Submitted to "If Only My Wish Would Come True" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Anoucheka Gangabissoon
The pure beauty amid attraction
no holding back it gives, it gives
a place where thoughts breathe
and strength and true poetry lives
It's not pretty nor perfection
word upon word, letting of soul
forgiveness, angst and freedom
allowing moments, feeling whole
there's happiness and sunshine
a night of fantasy or two
but mainly it's moving forward
closing shut a heavy door
heartbeats wrapped up in a blanket
slowing down one second at a time
giving life to more than perspective
a freeing of the troubled mind
I strip, you watch
you bleed, I cry
no expectations needed
just another day inside
1 2
1 2
She took the Hearts ;We handed Her, as Family all together
Filled with Blessings for YOU Robin, in YOUR dire Family need
We Waited, without watching, only Thinking : only Praying
For YOU Robin L Gass , for YOUR Smile, For YOUR Art” True POETRY “
Your hints of return : “My PS Friends” Soup Mail being read over and over
Our Hearts, ask for more than Happy , Glorious , “ Growing Goodness “
For YOU YOUR “ Fellow” POETS : Mentors, Proteges, and Artist s
Pray for resolutions to YOUR dilemma Pray for YOUR return to us
Just a note saying hello : which WE YOUR POETIC Family : Embrace
Poetry Soup a Jigsaw Puzzle with one important piece Missing : ROBIN
LOVE FROM ALL of us TO YOU ALWAYS ROBIN L. GASS
Dedicated To POETESS Robin L. Gass
She
sat there
in her room
wondering so
thinking much too hard
to find an idea
to write a poem that day
ideas came, ideas left
soon confusion arose in her mind
for indeed, poetry comes, from the heart.
There once was a slammer on Soup
True poetry forms threw him for a loop
Grammar was abused
Lower-case letters were used
No other poets could the slammer dupe
"True poetry sings songs of nature by modifying words"
Be nearby me, get close to me,
my dear goddess
I want your tender mind
and spicy body next to mine.
Hold me close in a warm hug,
kiss my tears and sorrows
While our two bodies tangle.
You touch my body with your fingertips,
Then slowly your lips get together mine.
I can feel those striking feelings,
They feel, so simply celestial.
Come closer to me, my precious.
I have so much love to bestow.
I want to keep sharing it with you,
As long as we both shall survive.
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
[email protected]
Related Poetry Links:
http://www.williamsji.com
http://www.williamsgeorge.com
http://www.williamsmaveli.com
ABOUT THE POET:
Poetry dates all the way back to the beginnings of Humanity. People have always been questioning nature, and the day-to-day existence of themselves and other humans love, death, survival, war, injustice, and the universe are all examples of things that have been questioned by men and woman since the roots of human existence. Whether in nursery rhyme, ballad, jingle, rhyme, anthem, or music, people have found poetry to be an outlet for expressing these questions, sensations, and experiences. People often associate it with strict rhyming patterns, complicated vocabulary, hidden iconic meanings, and difficult rhythmical conventions. Poetry is even taught in school to be an intricate, complicated, inexplicable puzzle. True, poetry is difficult. Sure, it can be harder to understand than prose. However, that is only because sometimes it is involved with your inescapable complexities and uncertainties of your existence. Williamsji Maveli (Williams G Maveli) is an enthusiastic and solid writer. He is a sincere, resourceful and diligent in his poetic work. He is very well connected and networked within the literary community and is willing to take up projects even in his tight schedules. His writings reflect the amount of research on the current events that has gone into it along with his knowledge and expertise in the field. However, Williamsji’s many poems are simple to read, interpret, and understand. His latest book, titled “ARAMVIRALTHUMBATHU…” (On the tip of the sixth finger), is now published and released by H & C Books,Trichur which is a collection of lyrics.
This may come as large surprise,
but I did once take a beginner's poetry class
which I often confuse with my beginner parenting class.
In which we learned good verse
and voice
have structure
pattern
imprinting rhythm
rich metaphoric content
perhaps even epic regenerative story,
assonant bouquet,
climates of hue and cry.
Who would or could a poet be
or hope to at last become
and yet unresponsively disagree?
Not me.
Even so,
if what I write
cannot resonate within your calling day,
and hopefully tomorrow
and resiliently flow on back
through all your best, not worst,
imagined yesterdays,
Then we are not yet our resonant poetry
so it is not so richly mine,
nor true poetry at disfamiliar all
of any kind
or mean spirit
natural
or unnatural.
Strong poetry cannot flow anonymously
autonomous.
My poetic muse shrinks,
like wound from salt,
from capital competing
absent co-infested resonance
resiliently wounded assonance
cooperative co-governance
restorative resilience
of integrity's best eco-aspirations.
Poetry
with green me
grows not only rhythmic swell
and political ebb,
but also liberating healthy smell
and not so hoarding ego fell.
Poetry praises time we share
nakedly co-resonant,
resplendent as spiritual underwear
inviting nature's brilliant subharmonies
to speak again full-voiced revival choir
without degenerate
autonomous
naked despair
In which we learn good verse
and voice
have structure
pattern
imprinting rhythm,
rich analogic content,
perhaps even revolutionary story,
assonant bouquet,
climates of secular hue
and sacred silent cry.
Portrayals of love
colored with paint and prose,
has inspired storied hearts to warmth
to fire the coldest of days...
Elizabeth Barrett found her Robert
Percy Shelly had his Mary,
to have found a shared passions magic
gift of words bound in covers,also
bound endlessly with a kindred spirit...
...art in life,true poetry in motion,
yet,some have had to settle with the ideal
of loves fleeting trickles...is it not,
just as so to live for love,than to die without it ?
Dante had his Beatrice,real or imagined,
Leonardo had his Mona Lisa,the other half
to complete his whole...the pain of love
can be insufferable,as a
Shakesperean Romeo and Juliet...
Past great loves,and
love willing to be...
can seem as close as the nearest smile,
or as distant as the distant stars...
but to live for love,
is much better than to die without it,
....real or imagined
"True poetry ascribes the entity of truth and originality"
I wish to wake up and see a new world,
I wish to wake up and see a new system,
A world free from ills and pills,
A world free from corruption and misappropriation,
A world free from war and air strikes,
A world free from genocide and servitude,
A world free from oppression and depression,
No hungry mouths to feed,
No one is in dire need,
No mass shootings in the day,
No raiding at night,
No one stands to obstruct his brother,
His rights are not trampled upon,
Money is not on a futile chase,
It is not owned by a selected few,
Everyone stands on equal footing,
The table is set for all,
If only my wish would come true.
June 19, 2022,
If Only My Wish Would Come True Poetry Contest.
All around the feathery quill
The poet penned his verses
Some are sweet, while others are shrill
And some move folks to curses
His poetry's sad; his poetry's mad
At times, it even makes your heart glad
That's why his lines are from the heart
Not blue, but red ink ~ true poetry smarts
"True poetry sings music, paints pictures, shapes words into emotions and delivers
emotions through words"