Best Unswerving Poems
I always feel hungry
yet dare not complain
it may set a precedent,
believing I am the fodder
the factory keeps feeding on my
infinite illusions.
The Radio talkback show tells us,
“No one wants insecurity anymore.”
Yet the conglomerates give no guarantee
no “Job for life”
Only a life! For a job.
Perhaps security is with the power
of the poppy or cocoa leaf?
So far, I’ve been lucky
I’ve found my comfort zone
this side of life.
So! Do not weep for me
for I breathe the fragrance of innocence,
my mind remains only
a fragment of intellect,
my musing will never make poem of the day
when my world one of such simplicity.
Yet I see mankind bemused,
multitudes from all walks of life
programmed as corn in the meadow
swaying to a acrimonious breeze,
before being judged within a
clockwork frame, with hearts
that beat in caustic chests.
Frail bodies embraced with wretched minds
tolerance etched upon stark faces,
their promised land dangled upon
the filament of dreams,
while calculated scenarios
bombard their unswerving ambience.
© Harry J Horsman 2020
My Dear Heart,
I owe you the gift of love and gratitude
for each beat you take to keep me alive,
and for all the times you've been hurt
by bad decisions I made that wounded you.
You always heal, but I know you feel
the distress that sometimes left deep scars.
You bear the brunt of my unbridled emotions,
and yet your devotion to me is unswerving.
We have a mutual admiration society of two,
and so often it's been just me and you.
One heart, one mind, we share a soul.
The one time when you lost all control,
I could not deter you from what you sought.
Oh, dear heart, I dare not blame you
for needing to be loved. Desire is a banquet
that you served me to feast on for a while.
And for that time, I smiled as never before,
but beguile was an act of hardship and sorrow
that I swore we'd not go through again.
What disdain we felt, and in prayer I knelt
that suffering would end and mend our grieving.
Only by believing in you did I make it through
the grief and disdain, the vulnerability and pain.
I owe you my life, and on it I earnestly pledge
never to cause you harm that I can prevent.
No walking through life on the edge of a knife,
no stress will I place beyond what you can bear.
I promise you this. I solemnly swear.
With cherished love and devotion...
January 29, 2023
Dear Heart Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Incarnated souls, destiny's unswerving path are obliged to follow
Through purging periods of suffering and grief till rendered hallow
© Demetrios Trifiatis
08 July 2018
When the Lord gives His bountiful blessings, the least one can do is be grateful..
An afterlife in heavenly abode awarded
Based on Biblical born-again experience
Christian choruses in choral cadence
Days of delight by delving deep in doctrines
Enriching encounters that encourage me
Friends forever and familial functions
Godly guidance and grand gestures of grace
Helpful homely ambience that holds me up
Insightful intelligent interpretation of images
Joyfulness found with a Just Judge
Keen kinship with the King of Kings
Limitless love of the Lion and the Lamb
Matchless Master's mystical mercies on me
New life necessarily found on the narrow road
Oasis of overflowing opportunities
Pleasant promises on this pilgrimage path
Quiver of qualitative quiescence
Remembrance of Royal righteousness
Succour in the Saviour's sweet snuggles
Tireless teamwork and thankful testimonies
Unswerving unblemished utensil of usefulness
Victorious vessel of value and valour
Watchful warrior with the Word as a weapon
Xtremely xenial with xpectation of xquisiteness
Yearnings of yesterdays and Yuletides
Zealous zest to reach Zion's zenith.
07.15.2020
"The blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow with it." - Proverbs 10:22
"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places in Christ." - Ephesians 1:3
Love is always a majestic,
long-suffering
beauty of destiny.
The humble daisy breathes
in undying devotion.
The colorful chrysanthemum
endures tempting fate.
In the teary angle's
embrace nestles unswerving
rapture.
The sunny violet entombs
a merciless vanity.
The moonlight of a soulful heart
seeks shelter from ongoing
despair .
The dark side of sunlight gleams
in mountainous seas.
The agonized sky never
hides its eagerness to still
a flaming ire.
Its bloody tears always etched
on the unrelenting hyacinth,
its verdant smile always forgives the
, accidental failures of life.
Its fragrance frequently waters the
unfeigned red carnation.
Love's angelic song is worthy,
when it does not care about
delicate, temporary lily .
Black daybreak never touches it,
it is a past history..
Dance, dance as child dances before he walks.
Dance in the moon light with stars in sight
Dance to the smiles, in the shadows of love
Dance, dance as child dances before he walks.
Dance is a short cut to happiness and ecstasy
Dance-a folk dance is the only universal language
Dance is a relatively safe form of intoxication.
Dance, dance as child dances before he walks.
Dance, dance as a grown-up takes to classic
Dance with impersonal and graceful arabesques
Is nothing but a sort of gymnastic drills
Dance, dance as a grown-up takes to classic
Dance, dance as a grown-up takes to classic
But if one considers concentrating their minds
Leading the body in the rhythm of desired emotions
That which expressing the feelings of experiences.
Dance, dance as a grown-up takes to classic
Those converting the body into fluidity are
To surrender it to the inspiration of the soul
Dance, dance as a grown-up takes to classic
A performing dancer is endowed with essential gifts
A body beautiful, grace of line, spirit gracious
Joy in the art, ability to please, unswerving
Integrity, relentless ambition for abstract perfection
Not mere translation from life, but it is life itself.
It’s a communication between body and soul
To express what is too deep to find for words
It’s a poem of which each movement is a word.
Dancing is nothing but dreaming with your feet!
Our truest expression is in dance. Bodies never lie.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Date 1-26-14
Dr. Ram Mehta
Form : Free Verse
Ninth Place Win
Contest: Mood Music by Sheri Freshonke Harper
Dance, dance as child dances before he walks.
Dance in the moon light with stars in sight
Dance to the smiles, in the shadows of love
Dance, dance as child dances before he walks.
Dance is a short cut to happiness and ecstasy
Dance-a folk dance is the only universal language
Dance is a relatively safe form of intoxication.
Dance, dance as child dances before he walks.
Dance, dance as a grown-up takes to classic
Dance with impersonal and graceful arabesques
Is nothing but a sort of gymnastic drills
Dance, dance as a grown-up takes to classic
Dance, dance as a grown-up takes to classic
But if one considers concentrating their minds
Leading the body in the rhythm of desired emotions
That which expressing the feelings of experiences.
Dance, dance as a grown-up takes to classic
Those converting the body into fluidity are
To surrender it to the inspiration of the soul
Dance, dance as a grown-up takes to classic
A performing dancer is endowed with essential gifts
A body beautiful, grace of line, spirit gracious
Joy in the art, ability to please, unswerving
Integrity, relentless ambition for abstract perfection
Not mere translation from life, but it is life itself.
It’s a communication between body and soul
To express what is too deep to find for words
It’s a poem of which each movement is a word.
Dancing is nothing but dreaming with your feet!
Our truest expression is in dance. Bodies never lie.
=====================================
9-7-2010
Eighth place winner in
Contest : Dance
Sanity Slipping
by Odin Roark
For today,
There is but a subliminal haze.
Soon…
They’ll realize spring as summer,
An impatient today
Rapidly becoming tomorrow’s scorched yesterday.
They’ll remind themselves
Of gardens once blooming,
Now dust bowls of wind-driven regret,
Shrouding what’s left
Behind nature’s pawn shop windows.
Then…
They’ll send afloat their final thoughts
As ghostwriters waiting,
Strike their polished keyboards,
Creating another tome,
Perpetuating another unswerving pattern of failure.
They’ll ponder the dark collecting quickly,
As their rising flotsam of denial
Hitches up with commerce trade winds aplenty,
Eager to satisfy more covetous progress
Waiting amongst the many heads-in-clouds.
They’ll spend their final hours
Watching their neighboring countries
Bloviate established ritual chameleon-greed
As power’s gluttony exhausts
The remaining rations for survival.
Finally
Beneath ashen density,
Remaining embers will radiate
What’s left of fate’s losing battle,
Revealing demonic faces parading angelic wings,
Readying their blind eyes
For the final act of
Sanity slipping.
cute love, destiny, devotion, i love you, imagery, lust, word play
OH OUR CUPID! ©
Oh try to blight the course of this errand
It will only award an ‘undying’ sickness
Turning the disheartened into ‘love-sick’ fools
The deed is done and becomes a lost issue
Overtaking the love-struck minds rational
By Cupid’s spell-sent ‘riddled’ love arrows
The love (potion) ‘tip’ of Cupid’s arrow heads
Have been heavily laced with an ‘adoration-fix'
That finds these hearts by his direct hits!
Lack of focus and appetite is it’s after affects
Along with irrational behavior and lost time segments
That imprisons them both into well-matched couple hood
Their love shouts a nucleus lust force at the onset
Intoned to nurture these two beating hearts
Into only one true-heart beat
That sends out a poetic justice
Rich with romanticism and love play courting
While 'our' Cupid sits back and anticipates
These sweethearts’ current initiation
That his magic musical merry-go-round ride will bring!
It offers them a spice for life with every go around
Many ups and downs and starts with finishes and restarts again
For is it not that he sent his cupid’s arrow throw
Always sent with an unswerving true aim
He gets a strike that never falters
His arrows are forever pure and true
Drawn to enchant all time with a wicked love knotted spell
Their hearts will be now entwined for eternity
By Cupid’s ‘scent’ “LOVE POTION--NUMBER NINE!”
Forgiving and patient, so kind,
Affectionate and loving, unconditional;
Tireless, hardworking without complaints,
Humble and gentle, never does he
Ever grumble in fulfilling our needs;
Resolute and unswerving my dad is,
Selfless, simple - epitome of sacrifice, and a strict
Disciplinarian, he instilled moral values in us.
About my dear dad, I have much more to pen
Yes..had I got more space, I would go on and on...
Date: 05/21/2021
Submitted for: A TRIBUTE TO FATHERS Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Milton Hankins
FATE
Conceived was I in the vastness of infinite
Time,
Developed in the womb of never dying
Cosmos,
Born under the watchful eyes of the vault
Of heavens,
Breast-fed by destiny’s inescapable
Commands
And
Nurtured by the laws of unyielding
Providence,
Thus
The unswerving path of fate, now, obediently to
Follow I have!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
06 NOVEMBER 2013
I can see the dream I'm dreaming
It's so beautiful, so alleviating
It's the alliteration of everything compelling
It's an epitome of petulant imaging
It's me metamorphosing into greatness
Bearing the trophy of poetry highness
I can feel the gaiety on my success
And the scenery of my upliftment
But it's only a dream, not reality
It's just a film in my head, not an actuality
It's the absolute notion of melancholy
The maestro of maudlin deformity
It's a prototype of an implicit onerous display
A melodrama that reclines on a fairy tale
The model of an unswerving galling replay
Like a pungent smell, unwanted but makes it's way
I can't triumph over over-lords of the pen
I can't defeat the dominating combatants of content
I can't outsmart the ten over tens
I just can't win this contest
But I CAN do one thing
Dream of my WIN
I Slept with a Female Mosquito – part IV
I have gone gnats!
My residual blood is boiling and bubbling
Whole frame sweltering and shuddering
Discolored rage – lend me some wrath
Should I or should I not,
Read her the riot act?
Does she know me any well –
A P.S now; been senator
Been governor, been chief, been prompt
In every cabinet
A minister here, a commissioner there
A chairman here, a spokesman there
A director here, Acting vice president
Do you know the cost of my person?
To accost fester and feast!
Madam Ambassador, speak for your people
The swarm is listening, whiz
That’s the envoy’s mark, man
Unswerving agenda, schemata
Trade, communiqué, summit, matrimony, prospects
Bilateral rep, the diplomatic proxy
Speak for them, gnat
State your mission, miss.
I always feel hungry
yet I dare not scoff
it may set a precedent.
(“My TV’s begging for Africa again!”)
Yet! I believe I am the fodder
everyone keeps feeding on my
infinite illusions.
The talkback show tells us,
“No one wants insecurity anymore.”
Yet the conglomerates give no guarantee
no “Job for life”
Only a life! For a job.
(Not forgetting the analytic “Bull”
upon application!)
Perhaps security is with the power
of the poppy or cocoa leaf?
So far I’ve been lucky
I’ve found my comfort zone
this side of life!
So! Do not weep for me
for I breathe the fragrance of innocence,
my mind will remain only
a fragment of intellect,
my world one of simplicity.
Yet I see mankind bemused,
multitudes, like corn in the meadow
swaying to a acrimonious breeze,
before being judged within a
clockwork frame, with hearts
that beat in caustic chests.
Frail bodies embraced with wretched minds
tolerance etched upon stark faces,
their promised land dangled upon
the filament of a dream,
while calculated scenarios
bombard their unswerving ambience!
© Harry J Horsman 1997
A lady was screaming and running
in circles, and she wasn’t funning.
A critter was chasing
her. Man! They were racing.
That rooster was swift and so cunning.
Her four-inch high heels made her stumble.
While kicking them off, she did grumble.
The banty was pecking
her ankles and wrecking
her panty hose. “S_ _ _!” She did mumble.
The farmers were calmly observing
this scene, their attention unswerving.
“Please help!” Her imploring,
they kept on ignoring,
not caring her plight was unnerving.
“Doggone bill collector!” one uttered.
“You IRS agent,” one muttered.
“I sell Avon!” she yelled
as tears welled and wounds swelled.
“C-call off this creature!” she stuttered.
“Don’t need none today,” they all told ‘er.
Her temper continued to smolder.
Pa said, “Leave ‘er alone.”
That fowl’s bad to the bone.
No rooster could ever be bolder!
Placed 1st in Charles Messina's Limerick Contest, September 2018
entered in Andrea Dietrich's limerick contest on 8-11-19