Best Uncommonly Poems
Tenderness exudes from him as he takes the hand
Of the woman, sick and frail; he’s a gifted man.
Uncommonly calm, he utters, “God has a plan.”
Consoling her, he is guided to soothe her soul and
Heal her body, for God’s spirit tells him he can.
Thankless job, I think watching
as Thurman tries to teach the young man
The lad sitting up
on the tractor
like a proud young pup
is full of piss and vinegar
half the time not listening
and half the time telling Thurman
how much he already knows...
As Thurman patiently slumps
his still-sturdy but ungainly frame
against the tractor
fingers strumming his red suspenders
a good-natured grin
slowly spreading
across his grizzled face
gleaming behind think glasses
I see a glint of soft amusement
at this grandiose greenhorn
Thurman has lived through
the Great Depression, and then
the horror of hand-combat
in World War II
one of three from his unit
to make it through-
so there is nothing this little ingrate
can possibly do or say
to break Thurman's composure today
he remains uncommonly calm
and utterly unflappable
a small chuckle slipping out
every now and then
And while the young man boasts
and blusters on about
his plans for next week
Thurman is mostly quiet, until
at length, asked about his plans
“Lord willing-
and the creek don't rise...”
he begins, knowing how
much could change by then
At first I thought you were just being nice
To make a good impression on a first date.
"Her true self needs time to break the ice,"
I thought as we talked until it was late.
I saw you again, but you were still the same—
Uncommonly gracious, loving, kindly spoken.
"She’s not being real, playing the same game."
I was quite certain I was seeing only a token.
But additional encounters proved me wrong.
You were as fetching and fabulous as before.
"This lady is a treasure; she sings a true song."
Hence, fond feelings for you I couldn’t ignore.
I worried if I were worthy to seek your hand.
You had character smiles out of my reach.
"Face it, fool, for you she’s simply too grand."
I saw myself as a crabapple, you as a peach.
But there came a day when I had to do it
Lest another suitor claim you as his bride.
"Have I the courage, the charm and the wit?"
Perhaps not, but I must know that I tried.
Decades have passed with you as my Sweet.
It may seem impossible, but I pledge it’s true.
"She continues to take me off my feet."
And that, my love, is the wonder of you.
If I was Auntie Mame, I would be excited about everything.
Kicking up fun wherever I am invited.
Even places I’m not, but everywhere being the zing.
Bringing people together, making them united.
I would be like giant puppies, leaping into lap places,
Sure I am welcome, not aware if I am not.
Knowing they are thrilled I am licking their faces.
I would throw up my hands, and dance around the lot.
I would be insanely, gloriously, uncommonly happy.
Unaware of disapproval or disdain in any way.
Oblivious to others’ discomfort, I would be loud and snappy.
Thinking their laughter is for me, I would continue to play!
Because I am the party, I do not want anyone to sleep.
Let the party begin! Bring out the chips and bar stools.
Take a chance, open that door, come out, and take the leap!
It is me, and if you have read the script, Auntie Mame rules!
Letters fall into place of words,
Comes naturally by grace,
Gifted in the penmanship.
A poet is born for such a time as this.
Bushy eyes fight the limited opening,
Reading on.
Mind invites the heart.
When the spirit flows,
The reader is one with the ink master,
Loyally is established.
Beginning of all what the poet may travel.
Between the publishers & the critics?
Believe not.
Faithfulness dwells in two,
Not so much the reader.
The uncommonly one,
Poetess.
Soul travel is a must of never-ending walk on Poetic Earth.
Heart indeed to see beyond one's point of view,
Yet remain true.
Spirit into the flight,
Rubbing fingertips with the Foundation of the Blessed Untouched.
Homestead in one place,
Homeless the poet will find in the final hours.
Loyally of the readers?
I do believe relationships goes two ways...
Clever new magical words,
Casting spells only last a season.
Sweet nothing into the ears,
Treated like a woman who has heard it all.
The mist to an end.
Fame simply dies,
And the readers move on...
FOREGATHERINGS
reinforced
engravings
occasion
participation
of
vaguely
contemporary
cultivations
with
an
immediacy
uncommonly
evolved
in
emancipated
multilateral
dignified
manifestations
Agrarian....agriculture
wet and dry affecting bolster
basic grain pre-market commodity
dispersal targets rift uncommonly
Feedstock fodder higher priced
milk,egg,cheese will future thrice
upkeep livestock feel the strain
lack of grain...we'll all feel the pain
Corn,wheat,rice and soybean
hot potato money machine
pass the buck absorb the cost
surcharge tacked as all not lost
With scarlet breasts
and charcoal backs
they came today
like jumping jacks
and brought our lawn alive.
They passed on by
the seed in place
plus water bath
to pace their chase
in groups of four or five.
I watch one hop
through still-green grass
ignoring me
on every pass
to bob head for his food.
That oil-well bob
to pull with beak
the hapless worm
into his cheek
is uncommonly rude.
I saw what we would look like:
Those two Lilies living lively in close proximity;
So close, in fact, their identical buds stare into
their mere reflections of passionate pastal smiles
and blushing petals like the powdered cheeks of a middle school affectionary -
A glimpse of us displayed
in the large field - two Dandelions
uncommonly rooted within centimeters of each other,
Close-cornered so in that their seeds,
Like an arranged marriage, coupled in the wind's
breasting breeze -
Yet as sure as death, to be split by unsure currents and rushes
of High and Low pressures.
Known Pressures;
I thought I caught a glance
Of what possibly could've been there-
growing azaleas
masked by a single magnolia:
self-infatuated, blinded by selfish desire (or wishful thinking)-
an image of what
we were to be.
The quicksand into which I now sink
Is my inability to creatively think;
Try as I might
The poems that I write
Are mundane and so commonly trite.
I must step outside of the box;
Find the keys that undo the locks;
Become a surprise
To curious eyes
For above this sameness to rise.
I need to break the mold;
Be uncommonly bold;
Tell stories in ways they have never been told.
Break away from the pack
Of poetry hacks;
My enemy of apathy attack.
This poem doesn’t quite do the trick,
But to this challenge, I swear, I will stick;
I will do my best
To prepare for the test
Of completing my creativeness quest.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: My apologies to all the great and struggling poets out there. I mean no disrespect with the “poetry hacks” phrase. I think we all are trying to find our own style or brand of writing that helps us to stand out in a crowd of many talented writers. I hope you take no offense with this phrasing. I include myself in the congregation of poetry hacks.
love lies on the side hypotenuse
from where that right angle is
often love's functions seem abstruse
lost at ocean's bottom with Atlantis
yet complementary, our numbers add up
by degrees are ninety, true and square
feelings pour right to the loving cup
opposites and adjacents uncommonly rare
looking at all the angles to triangulate
and compute toward infinity's revered
will the points be cartesian for this mate
do measured dimensions seem a bit weird
what of the other points on the line
of our lives, that we traverse insistently
do they see us as converging just fine
heartfully crossing space with felicity
cons and pros measured on protractor
terms balancing both sides of the equal
trying not to drop any important factors
will it be originally good as the sequel
the mosaics of the world pieced together
to form colorfully muted sharper vision
complacent or attentive to futures whatever
it'll be angled and trigged with precision
© Goode Guy 2011-12-16
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trigonometry
http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/abstruse
there are three sides to any point, what's right, what's left, and the rest.
…ODE TO TREES…
Trees, like people...are
More than what they show...
Much, much more than
What they let us see
They’re sentient beings
In a sense we can’t know
Uncommonly communal creatures
Are the common trees
There exists a hierarchy
Just ‘neath the Earth
Where seeds, roots and Fungi
Conspire to give birth
The rulers in this kingdom
Are tall, tattered old trees
Lightning torn and torment worn
Yet wise as they can be
In their alien (to us) wisdom
They decide who lives and survives
They provide shade and sustenance
To Saplings perilous lives
They communicate with one another
By ways of pheremones
And speak to all their Arboreal sisters and brothers
In muted, deep rooted, silent tones
It’s hard to imagine them
As more than just outsize weeds
But you couldn’t live without ‘em
Since they provide your most basic need
The very air you inhale
That is so essential to your life
And without which all life would fail
Cut short by Nature’s knife
So look at trees as necessities
They provide for you and me
And with their many awesome Autumn leaves
There is naught so beautiful on Earth (nor so worthy)
…as a time weathered tree...
He was poetically intolerant,
she thought herself an Emily
writing sonnets 'how do I love...'
he indulged her feeble whimsies
in light of other finessed talents,
essentially, larks amidst boudoir's
uncommonly emboldened expertise
A stable plate on two different trays
historically embracing the celebrated words of Caesar.
Home to the Hittites of old, St. Nicholas and the Antioch’s monument,
and a fine developing continuation of the ancient city of Troy.
From being a port to the legendary Ark
to introducing cherry and coffee to an entire continent.
Its mega hub, now stands a cultural goal post
to the entire pitch of its very affluent larger region.
Yet, its focal point uncommonly stands at Ankara
and the survival of Tin still stay true in Goltepe.
In time’s rare, twas the battle ground for the Trojan wars,
also the Museums of wonders of Halicarnasus and Ephesus,
but now an active site of manufacturing and Industrial boom.
While two land masses caress its identity,
the surrounding waters play and dance to its productivity.
Dropped ad lib in foreign terrain
Not knowing a word of English
It was called ‘learn fast, sink or swim’
You smiled when I first looked at you
Offered to be my translator
Almost too pleased to be helpful
You came on a little too strong
I was uncommonly bashful
You somewhat a bit of a nerd
You kept watching from afar
Became my tacit comfort zone
I truly took you for granted
But honestly, what did I know
We were only kids in fifth grade
AP: 2nd place 2021