Best Undergoes Poems
Wrapped in God's love,
gives you the rare ability to see
wonderful things never dreamed of,
beautiful things that will only exist in eternity
A silken veil is God's love,
encases your mind with thoughts divine
Your heart undergoes a transformation,
new angel wings are now perfectly aligned
Waiting to fly always on God's love,
is a soul changing metamorphosis
Ready to emerge into a new reality,
and float forever on winds of pure bliss
Outside of your cocoon, there's a new world opening up to you
The first flower you rest on, taste the nectar of eternity's dew
Categories:
undergoes, muse, nature, spiritual,
Form:
Lyric
Rudeness at places of work is a terminal cancer
That reduces and kills productivity
Promoting the dancer
Who feels her rudeness proclivity
Resembles a godsend in her way of thinking
Equating its futility to putting in a full day’s shift without any proof
That rudeness despite its inkling and tinkering
Adds to long faces among colleagues whose home roof
Undergoes strain victims of rudeness export home where their rudeness
Hurts family members who in turn unleash
Their reverse rudeness to kill at home happiness
Inspiring butts of rudeness to dish
Out the taste of the rude message
To new victims enlarging the cycle by tit for tat
Until time passage
Widens the rudeness culture making it so fat
It recruits new rude members
Consolidating and spreading the rudeness epidemic
Insulating no one, hurting everyone to fan embers
That burn, burn, burn and burn so that rudeness no comic
Spares. Then, people wonder why so much rudeness flies about
Crashing good manners, killing decorum
Until a wisecracker reminds the person who in the first instance thought her rudeness clout
Despite a dose of rum
Contaminates and hurts more and more
Unless everybody makes it their business
To observe good manners and tenets of politeness in folklore
Then and only then can a rude-free society exist, pouring boundless happiness bereft of rudeness.
Categories:
undergoes, poems,
Form:
Free verse
When winter months become morose
And everything around is blue and froze
Gets disheartening even for the eskimos
Their morale starts to dwindle and decompose
They tread most lightly on cautious tippytoes
For fear their neighbors will become bellicose
They bite their tongue rather than use such prose
As ‘up your nose, my friend, with a rubber hose’
It is uplifting to dream of colorful scenarios
Any warm place where the blazing sun glows
Where the desert air gently blows
While ocean waves roll in sultry rows
All agree a trip down south would be most grandiose
Trading bikinis for their parka and heavy winter clothes
By pools they’d feign being divinely comatose
Drink in hand adopting the hot vacation pose
Stretched out on their hammocks eating pistachios
Laying back being busy counting colored rainbows
Hey CabanaBoy we’d truly really hate to impose
But would you please massage us from our head to our toes
Before their fair skin burns and redness undergoes
They all head back to their respective bungalows
Wondering should they dress go catch one of the shows
Or rest in bed before calling on one of the local rodeos
While visiting the souvenir shop one decides to propose
To send home a postcard showing tropical buzzards and flamingos
With a heartfelt message that needs not be verbose
For sure they’ll be the envy of both our friends and foes
AP: 1st place 2021
Submitted on January 9, 2019 for contest BUZZARDS AND FLAMINGOS sponsored by ANTHONY SLAUSIN
Categories:
undergoes, fantasy, sun, travel, uplifting,
Form:
Monorhyme
Every small sore is numbing pain
As if morning can't see the rain
Every small touch on your light skin
Makes the world like it stops to spin
Teardrops can't mend your heart's sorrow
As if night has no tomorrow
The days are counted like a few
May God still give you lots of new
For my mother who currently and coincidentally suffers from breast cancer and undergoes chemotherapy. I may not be that financially stable to help because of my condition and we had some differences before, but may this poem find you a morning sunshine and a holding rail. Thanks to my sister In law Christy and my brother Marvin and all who extend their sympathies
December 1, 2023
Categories:
undergoes, hope,
Form:
Rhyme
The future with AI is already here,
A world that's changing, with each passing year.
We've come so far, from the first spark of AI,
With endless possibilities, that reach for the sky.
The current possibilities with AI are vast,
From medical diagnosis, to predicting weather that will last,
Smart home technology, that knows our every need,
Digital personal assistants, that keep up with our speed.
The future with AI, a world of wonder and awe,
A leap into the unknown, that leaves us in awe.
From smart cities, that know our every move,
To self-driving cars, that easily groove.
But with the wonders, come fears of mankind,
As we question the consequences, that we may find.
Artificial intelligence, that will soon outsmart,
And replace us humans, with a robotic heart.
But with the fears, come opportunities that shine,
As AI creates more jobs, that we cannot decline.
From automation, and the rise of new technology,
To vast amounts of data, that help us make discoveries.
AI will affect jobs in different sectors,
As automation takes over, and humans become electors.
Retail workers, truck drivers, even doctors and lawyers,
Will all be affected, as the world undergoes new voyagers.
The government and scholars agree,
AI is a force that's here to stay and help set us free.
With new policies and regulations, to address our fears,
And new programs and investments that help us persevere.
But with the research, comes a glimmer of light,
As experts suggest a future that's so very bright.
A world that's safe, and filled with endless possibilities,
As AI continues to help in all human activities.
The future with AI, a change that's here to stay,
A bright new era, that's unveiling every day.
With a world that's smarter, and more efficient than ever,
The future with AI, a world we'll cherish forever.
Categories:
undergoes, africa, computer,
Form:
Rhyme
Everyone, from children to grownups,
carry the world in their hands, they see the past
and the future simply by the move of their thumbs and fingers;
from their very spot they fly in the air hanging onto the mixture of
illusion and reality.
The little glass plate they are staring at is,
though, a two dimensional world, they go
beyond the fourth dimension and reach the world of infinity,
the time of conception to death, while creating a totally anew concept
of time that is a mixture of kairos and chronos.
Because you see everything at the same time
in this little glass plate, layer after layer of thickened image
starts to fall to cause the chaos, the distorted image crumbles.
When a child finds Hydra in the little flat glass plate he held,
he challenges Hydra, and after a long difficult fight, though
he cuts a head off from this great serpent, a drop of blood
numbs the child, with venom spitting out from the mouths
of the remaining heads it deadens the child. Then, after all,
the Hydra’s blood and venom overtake the child’s shrunken brain,
the child becomes a fierce monster himself.
For a grownup,
while watching Laokoon and his two children locked in the coils of
hissing snakes, agonizing. He undergoes unbearable torment himself,
as if Laokoon was tortured by the snakes, stretching his arms in the air
to grab something that may lessen the intensity of horror.
From the touch of smooth
but cold skin of the snake,
he shudders, he frightens, he feels death.
The child, comes and goes from here to yonder world in no time,
led by the move of his fingertip, he came and sat with the devil
face to face, tries to trade junk the devil offers with his soul, though
immature, he is therefore reckless, but innocent.
The grownup who haunted by anguish,
walks on the path of life and death, because
he is unable to shake off the bad-omen he carries;
is now sitting in front of a poker table and through
the little flat glass plate in his palm, gazing at the numbers
on the playing cards; he irons his ragged soul with steaming-hot-iron
for external appearance, the soul that even the devil won’t take in
pledge for filthy lucre.
It’s outrageous but,
all generations alive today, seem to be confined
in the little flat glass plate, they live as the slave of the fingertip.
Categories:
undergoes, culture, technology, world,
Form:
Free verse
Stages and steps are the structures of Life’s nomenclature
a little mind isn’t ready to go through its rotating disk,
quick and fast void of much strain, no matter the way
but such an inpatient method carries the most risk.
Building upon contentment to slowly reach prosperity,
such energy is diverted for unholy accumulation in a brisk.
No item is beyond such eyes in need of sedation
the Lord of Moscow fighting to also be the mayor of Bisk.
Possessions beyond reach stimulate more awareness and sensitivity,
unconsciously and rapidly, mindfulness undergoes a frisk.
The unnecessary search for more, never nearly gets exhausting
but disappointment nods, tagging such a person with asterisk.
Enormous wants so large, yet squeezed by the mind and limbs
lands one in a tornado, subsequently throwing everything in a whisk.
Categories:
undergoes, character, horror, humanity, ,
Form:
Chant Royal
hanging tenuously from tree branch the ripe object of temptation
sunlight peeks through the hill trees signaling arrival of a new day
more a curse than a blessing, less a decision than affirmation
worn leather valise undergoes the rigors of final journey
faded granite marker put in position two hundred years ago
no matter how tight we cling to existence, it shall leave us behind
dark silence of ornate gilded nave constrained angst for generations
always shall be the prospect of something beyond our imagining
hiking along the high trail yields broad vistas of surrounding islands
suffering through the high-pitched howling of a bitter northerly wind
desiring to ensure that the lies which I tell myself are harmless
better a fond memory than just another imperfect being
within life's confines, relevance has ever been a moving target
Categories:
undergoes, change, journey, memory, perspective,
Form:
Monoku
Although a withered tree possesses a charm of its own,
aside from elegance, what should this old man do,
because not even possess a taste of ordinary
but he is the man of base, the incarnation of disgust.
If wrinkled face covered with ugly age spots,
clumsy shaking hands with swollen finger joints,
mucus filled clogged throat with foul breath,
arched stiff body with fetid body odor,
are all for the aged, with what shall we distinguish the means of life.
If the point where the word beauty no longer bears any meaning
to an old man anymore is the place for him to roam
stepping on the rays of the setting sun with remorse,
he should, if not all the truth, at least sustain empty mind
in his stiffening body, rather then spread bad breath in the air,
that may be caused from the curse he made to the world,
piles and piles of bad mouths he made to harm others,
and ill wishes he made from envies toward neighbors with his
small but destructive tongue, rotted and gives off the stinking odor?
The offensive odor from the body
may also be the same as of the foul breath, because it caused
from contaminants polluting the body from taking a bath jumping into any water
if he sees one on the roadside.
If there is an easy way out or shortcut,
did not give any consideration but, instantaneously,
took this easy way.
If he finds an empty space,
not even a moment of thought, rushed to there,
sat, laid and rolled over to enjoy the space of his own.
Since wrong cannot last long
he shouldn’t see, hear or speak anymore
but leave the world without an apprehension of others.
Nevertheless, what shall the old man do!
Because life is a cycle of retribution
and is the reason he is still breathing.
And because he is breathing, he undergoes never-ending torture
suffocated by his own body odor that became an intolerable reek,
groaning for persisting pain twisting stiffened body,
while he continues seeing, hearing and mumbling.
Categories:
undergoes, age, old, pain,
Form:
Prose Poetry
—The sun in confined to a bed being seized with jaundice—
Although the neighbors and siblings were gone,
you and I most hold onto father’s arm for the sake of
a deformed child’s fatality that couldn’t come and go as wish.
At the present, however, even the father,
who I have once trusted, lost his crown of adolescence,
and blinks his hopeless eyes with his shaking limbs and body
that has grown thinner and undergoes a trial of heavy silence
being deprived of expressing a self.
It’ll be a white snowstorm soon
for the black wind is growing violent…
though abandoned, here is no oblivion,
for it is constrained abandonment.
Loneliness, therefore, approaches nearer
flapping its huge and dark wings. Hence,
all the more yearn for a tales of old days…
LI PO…li po…
LAFORGUE, JULES…laforgue, jules…
The echo in the middle of the air struck against the moon
and became an appeal of frozen stiff Leica that sounds hollow
and painful, and to return to the tightly closed bosom of the earth
because the moon has thrown her thickened hypocritical veil.
However, even a laurel tree only grows in the moon
withered and dead by a curse called the twentieth century.
Even Jupiter seems deadly brown on this evening
as though the last leaf is hanging onto its dead limb.
Categories:
undergoes, allegory, dog, metaphor, moon,
Form:
Free verse
Realization comes now
finding me
lying bed low
telling me that
it's only
one future
I've lost,
there are others
for my choosing.
At this moment
another one has
already begun.
Green grass
cut weekly
still grows back.
So drastic
a change
it undergoes
as I have
undergone,
yet it lives,
adapts, accepts
quietly
with little resistance.
Nature always
replacing
and rebuilding
just as I must
replace
and rebuild
my dreams,
my future,
myself.
Others survive,
I can too,
I will.
Yes, I'll live.
(August 1977)
Categories:
undergoes, depression, life
Form:
Free verse
I'm sorry you feel as if though. And I am coming to know your sorrow. Insatiable. Though you may not understand. Over communication or there lack of, sometimes undergoes one of many of which ways relationships will go. And statistically shows, that love, that once naturally bloomed, will one day devolve into seeds for chew. A strong and lingering, and bitter taste that I beg to be slapped out of my mouth. A mouth full of these hopeless seeds, now please. Now only insatiable remnants of my insatiable appetite they are. My insatiable appetite you hear? My senses have been compromised. What kind of rekindling that could ever ensue which would ever make me grow to love the taste? Again it is all too familiar, and what was once as pleasurable as oysters going down the throat, is now too hard to swallow. I do not fear death from starvation. I fear choking to death. Emaciated to decay is no dismay. Insatiable death.
Categories:
undergoes, conflict, dark, desire, relationship,
Form:
(alternately titled fancyfeast feeds finicky folky fungi)
No matter this omnivore
experiences stomach rumbles like birth
(pains) of a nation (loud enough to be heard
clear opposite side of Earth),
this self actualized (1% Neanderthal
ask my eldest sister while sitting close to heath
(genetic results from 23andme.com as proof positive)
thar haint no dearth
where genealogy traces origin of *****Sapiens, while girth
of Gaia swollen with present burgeoning population,
whose gestalt swings between moroseness, mirth
or emotional gamut, such sentient being such as mice elf
(i.e., a generic male)
undergoes self guided heightened sensory
quintessential existential awareness,
the effort wool worth.
the idea sans art of mindfulness –
analogous to a sixth sense
plus active listening (with consciousness) quite intense
said silent credo, dictum, ethos...fueling gutsy cents
and sensibility (without pridefulness nor prejudice)
herewith, this poem doth try to condense,
incorporating laser re: mental focus
involving munching or drinking favored beverage
at necessary survival at substantial expense
on food in mannered mien without offense
naturally with healthy, nutritiously plentiful,
quality meal in company of aye gents
provocateurs or alone, nonetheless
(consisting of adequate ruffage sustenance) dense
enough to satiate appetite,
and hence able to function utmost energy –
practice taking mouth-size bites, and dis pence
with hungrily wolfing incredible edibles –
rather I strive to measure core rents,
and paroxysms germinating deep
within bowels of this body electric,
implementing prolonged chewing whence
I (in presence of family)
usually heal chow digestion at light speed,
thus (no syrup rise) tend to be
last person to consume entire meal
enjoying tasting every last morsel
conjuring awareness to appeal
avast realm of numerous textures,
qualities, characteristics, et cetera
per culinary delight allows,
enables, and provides sensation feel
ling dissolution concomitant with each mouthful
prolonging basic function to appease
famished "beast" fur real.
Categories:
undergoes, appreciation, character, food, health,
Form:
Free verse
O! Laurie-Jeanne, Laurie-Jeanne! Belle of my Heart!
Why did you have to fly?
From me who sang you a lullaby,
From the hospital room, ‘neath the thundering sky,
Beneath the thundering sky!?
O! I love my Laurie-Jeanne like the Sun,
Like the Sun, and all things Endless!
Like the Wind, and the Sea,
And the scent of pine trees,
And all things that leave me astonished!
You said, you were breathless, on the night ere you left,
And I thought that the pills were too much,
And I kissed you on top of your holy head,
And then in the morning, my Love, you were dead,
In the morning, my Love, you were dead.
O! I love my Laurie-Jeanne like the Sun,
Like the Sun, and all things Endless!
Like the Wind, and the Sea,
And the scent of pine trees,
And all things that leave me admonished!
When I held your still hand, growing cold, growing cold,
And I cried like a babe, with abandon,
And I stayed for three hours, I prayed that sweet bowers
Would receive you, and sprinkle you with dewy showers
And sprinkle you with dewy showers…
O! I love my Laurie-Jeanne like the Sun,
Like the Sun, and all things Endless!
Like the Wind, and the Sea,
And the scent of pine trees,
And all things that leave me unpunished!
In the end, I walked with you, as they took you away,
And I talked to them of love and marriage,
Tried to make them believe, though the eyes deceive,
That you must have a card up your sleeve, up your sleeve,
That you must have a card up your sleeve!
O! I love my Laurie-Jeanne like the Sun,
Like the Sun, and all things Endless!
Like the Wind, and the Sea,
And the scent of pine trees,
And all things that leave me untarnished!
Now I see you bright, standing, clothed all in pure white,
And my Faith undergoes transformation,
For, you stand there, as Real, as the warmth that I feel,
And your Heart’s like a diamond, your strength is like steel,
And your diamond-Heart Strength is like steel!
O! I love my Laurie-Jeanne like the Sun,
Like the Sun, and all things Endless!
Like the Wind, and the Sea,
And the scent of pine trees,
And all things that rise, undiminished!
Categories:
undergoes, death, loss, love, marriage,
Form:
Lyric
I turn off damn ringer,
nonetheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
oh... , yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal
spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams.
Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living persons
purely coincidental!
Categories:
undergoes, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse