Best Unmissed Poems
A winged dream of bliss,
pain a nightmare's child
toil an echo past
plenty a ripe kiss
war unheard unmissed
none want for food
all have a roof
deserts with rain
oceans with fish
room for all
fires warm
water blest
thankful
at peace
hope
*Image of Kaleidoscope In Blue by Giphy.
When The Blues Are Fun
You consume the whole of me constantly,
Fair drafts ensure flight of our loyal tryst,
Though all known plans bear out uncertainty,
Our center grants said goals to be unmissed.
A misty vineyard drips of subtle dew,
And swells our noble chalice soberly,
Till such, we seal all promises won true,
Our profuse veins sip fortuitously.
Heaven embraces what Earth put apart,
Relished values carried by moral wings,
Sound valor our cultures nobly impart,
Adopted rivalries temptation brings.
Glorious when the twain of us was one,
Our intrepid tales, nonetheless, homespun.
2019 November 28
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND FORMAL
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 March 12
*3rd Place*
2019 best sonnet
~~John Hamilton: Judged 2019 December 16
*3rd Place*
Best Friend Sonnet
~~Regina McIntosh: Judged 2019 December 22
“Reverse Cyrano”
Reverse Cyrano
new wave poetry
straddles the ruins
milked
with two sugars
dark Tea dreams
red leaves laquer
the vain roadmaps
that stain the ingrained
with pommegranate poetry
the bejewelled heart
sweet and tart
and thick
skinned
sliced and skewered
each granate
a sparkling
hidden gem
within the ruby
words written
riding astride those worlds
like wolves
in those comforting
dicomforting whispering woods
for Cyrano reversed
so easily contracted
a hidden god and a poet
that lost lovers
may find submerged
in disoriented time adrift,
eyes open-wide undestracted,
the ravenous misunderstood unmissed.
Candide Diderot ‘25
Beneath the full moon's illumination, two darkly dressed
Figures are quietly digging, gentlemen collectors, of the
Cadavers of the undead, desecration's henchmen of
Greed’s loosened purse strings, murders of the dead flesh
Trade.
Grave diggers for hire, the fresher the body, the more
Coin is made, Burke, and Hare always say, cash only on delivery!
What will it be Sir Professor of medicine, or science, large or
Small we provided it all, young or old, care we not, just tell us
Your preference, money does the talking here, sir!
So what will it be than, what's your pleasure governor,
Say these the body snatchers, of Edinburgh Scotland!
Shadow hunters with clubs of diversions in hand,
Tempting the male with passions of the evening,
Alluring co-horsts, walk their living dead victims,
Into deaths pleasure zone, then flee as the fatal
Blow is struck, by their gentlemen companions!
The Doctor you see, pays better coin, if the corpses
Cadaver is still warm, smothered, bashed, or strangled,
It’s all for the betterment of Science and medicine.
These sadistic serial killers of the past, rightly
Believe, and joking laugh, in the cold evening air,
Of this city’s seeder side of the tracks,
We’re doing this for the just cause, of
Humanity’s sake, ha ha!
Criminals after all my good man, is a harsh
Word to use, is it not for the future medical
Professional’s must be taught with the best
And freshest material possible after all, right governor!
Times are hard for the working man, we have
To fed are own after all, Burke and Hare
Relate, so if one unmissed individual puts
The spoils into our cooking pot, what the ####,
Simply does it really matter!
Let the gallows swing high on their reckoning day,
For sixteen lives will these guilty men pay for,
In their dearest bloods shedding, but in an
Eerie twist of fate itself, their bodies will
Go to the same medical professional,
So you see the joke is really on them in the end!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
This is a true story, it happened in England, and these men were
Were eventually found out and hung, there bodies were than sent
To a university for the betterment of medical research!
Close the mouth, open the mind
and let the pen draw the line.
Raise the eyes, lower the fist
and let all wars go unmissed.
Winners of foolish battles gain no prize
nor any admiration from the wise.
Let peace reign, let conflicts resolve
the heart shall then grow and evolve.
Close the mouth, open the mind
and let the pen draw the line.
"The Sum of Us"
When the hearing has left
and the eyes cry tears
like fathomless oceans
filling those contained opines
in their empty vessels,
floating around us,
the interior immersed
swims in the meaning
of fast metronome
caught in the breast,
dancing every second
right and left right and left
the blind will see
eventually feeling
each beat unmissed
the essential never die
we are regenerating
all part of the same
the sum of us
all in one name
the sum of us
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
FRIDAY, THE 13TH, IS IT AN ANATHEMA?
I, in the bad old days
When medicine derives
Its worth and effectiveness
In the wack-wack days
The herbal and their prayers used to drive away evil spirits.
Our great great grandparents
And our parents during the present times
Still these suppression of truth are pressed
For these beliefs
Which are tried to be repressed
But, somehow, is hard to demise.
But here’s the times when science gets bad
The best of alibi depend
On the number not at all on the figure
Just like their travails in life
Almost always point to an excuse
Because its Friday, the 13th (thirteenth).
Friday, the 13th (thirteenth)
Has become an omen and a superstition
Some sorts pull both their legs
To believe is not a disbelief their IQ is less
But if you heed and forego and the accident unmissed
You are lucky you followed the curse and you survived.
Whether Friday, the 13th is an anathema or a superstition
Its repercussion infused not on the imprecation
Would justify the warning or precaution
An advance knowledge is a wary information
The chronicler who set the calendar is not daydreaming
But he’s full of dumbness, indeed maybe a wisdom man!!
NEXT STOP : DUBLIN
Glad to leave the stonefaced Russian labyrinth of passports small
And stamped documents for every footfall
A bureaucrat’s wet dream - checking each other’s bureaucracies
No walking on grass, no stepping over invisible fences,
No original thinking, no whistling indoors please.
Engines start to turn and whistle and whine
Soon be back in old school for a while, unmissed, decadent
Teachers like old Rogers, often boozed-up in class, or that arrogant *
Upstart McCabe, getting high on his minority skills, his sacred Irish language.
( Mustn’t say Irish, say Gaeilge.) Important to an ant or midge.
I have met them at close of day, coming with vivid faces **
Flushed with the triumph of outdated, set-in-stone values
Elation gets them higher than smoky inhalation
Their dreamland is a small island, a Gaeilge nation.
I dream of stepping from frying pan to fire
And life begins to seem a hoax
And tiny ants seem large as folks
Their fragile egos higher float with every puff
Tiny magic dragons never seem to get enough
And from their caves they need a coax
East is east, and west is best - but in the final analysis
Maybe not enough in either one to miss
And the caves are filled with fragile ants
Afraid to be seen with ants in their pants.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
NOTES
*These are of course fictitious names.
**This is the opening line from W. B. Yeats’ poem EASTER 1916.
Yeats is probably one of the 20th century’s finest poets in the English language.
Her eyes aren’t hollow holes
A smoke and mirror trick
She’s filled with gasoline
Not as soulless as you may think
She spites bitter memories
Her skin flares
Itch away the pain
Raw from you picking away
Sand paper could feel better
Than the words you run along her
Close your eyes
You won’t want to watch this hurricane
Sucked dry of sweetness
She’s lost her sugarcane
Hailing bullets like champagne
Snorting gunpowder like lines of cocaine
Mining like a slave trader
She’ll go unmissed
Until you need your next fix
Then you’ll send the dogs to find miss
Clap up and down
She makes noise like a captive
Like music to your ears
She knows the words you want to hear
Gutter loving whore
Just keeps coming back for more
Desperate for a taste
It’s why she can’t escape
Indescribable thoughts expressed
Colour and detail unmissed
Subconscious voices absorb on paper
Stories of emotion so personal
Experiences shared for armour
Laughed at by the outsiders
Understood by the intelligent minds
You whom I built my life around, brother
You created a bound that was unmissed
A line of love built with memories
Now, you’ve decided to move on
A sister with out a brother, her shadow
I’m left here to think about what went wrong
The bound declared on me
I forced my self to believe
Now I can let go
But my brother I have awakened
I can let go and walk my own path
For I my brother am no longer in need of your love
I need you no longer to help build my dreams
Or walk the path of uncertainty side by side.
You are unmissed
You are loneliness
How do you cope?
How does one who
Can barely stand himself
Contine to live?
How do you survive each day
Before the scrutinizing eyes
Of the princess Pain?
What is this new title you seek?
Oh, suicide is already in use
My pale friend
My friend knew him once
Death is also taken and well renowned
Her darkness so rich you feel it
Even in her absence
So beguiling you will rarely know it
When she approaches to kiss you
Loneliness, hang on to yourself
Your name is all you’ve got
Sometimes, when sweeping under the bed or
behind the dresser,
you will come across an old poem
One that has been forgotten about
Or, going through the clothes closet,
trying on jackets not worn since last winter,
a folded paper in a pocket
reveals a collection of lines
A few half shaped rhymes
And a message you once knew
had to be known
And what is to be done with such unmissed missives?
These pieces of poesy past
on a warm April afternoon
Heck if I know
It's time for a late lunch and I really can't think
when
hungry
So i had this dream,
I think it was a dream:
My lonely sole treading
the path of the air,
Through the rolling container.
My feet measuring the path
Of Washington,
dazed by her beauty,startled
by her regalia.
My eyes seduced by the
Beauty of her physiognomy.
The tiled road tensed with glory-
Even with her sister-Michigan.
My heart was elated like
an electrocuted toy who
hopped for joy while betrothed
to the striving electricity.
I closed my eyes for secs,
Open it a bit through the specs.
Thought it was a nightmare-
Maybe one of the lies the dreams spare.
But nay it was a raw truth,
A truth unmissed with alcohol-
Stance like the undauted rock,
Looking indifferently steady like a moor.
So at last i'm here,
Even America is now my peer.
What i'd longed for months,
Just entered through my door when hope was lost.
Now my joy's fulfilled,
Into the pitch now to be fulfilled.
Americans?
An Hero is here.
Washington, Lions_den is here.
For some to tear while some to care.
17:24:17:10:10
Ah! There it breaks
On the ground soiled
Abandoned
Foolish foot tearing that unmissed
Not knowing the destruction
Lost
Once it lived up above
Now fallen down
Gone
Before it had a purpose
A bringer of life
Fallen
There in silent death
Now crippled
Free