Best Upon One Poems
STARRY, STARRY NIGHT
I often look up towards the sky at night,
And wonder who or what is there,
I shout out loud, if you see or hear me, I love you,
I do this every night, the starry sky, an absolute delight!
I drive out of the city to the Kruger Park,
There, not only am I close to nature and serenity,
But to the universe, I look up, no pollution,
I stretch my arms up high, excited, it is very dark!
No street lights, or cars headlights, or any noise,
The moon is so bright and full, it smiles at me,
Quite rare, for normally the moon looks a little sullen,
The stars, I’ve lost count, as they twinkle with such poise!
The Milky Way so clear, I feel I want to reach up high,
As it allures me, and weaves across the sky,
Milky, so graceful and silent, as it, and I watch
Sparkling stars, and planets rotating, unknown
To mankind, yet to be discovered in our eternal
Galaxy to which I want to fly!
Our universe has constellations of stars, named mostly
After mythology’s gods, who beckon, tempt and wink
And entice me, but I am on planet earth, how near
Could I reach this flamboyant display, body, soul
And mind, holistically!
So maybe if I look up into our never ending
Sky at night,
And wish upon one star, with imagination
That runs rampant,
I will see above and far beyond with breathless anticipation,
What I could never imagine, an explosion that blinds me,
An aura, translucently bright!
I can't recall exactly when
Life swung and hit me on my chin
I"m ashamed to say, it knocked me cold
When I came to, I woke up old
While I was out, I had a dream
Of juggling on a balance beam
While jumping hoops, upon one leg
And one wrong move, cost one nest egg
Was it yesterday or the day before
I had it all but wanted more
When days were long and fears were short
Carouse by day, at night cavort
Yesterday, less was more
It must have been the day before
I wish I'd seen life's sucker punch
'cause now my memory's out to lunch
by Daniel Turner
On a pleasant Sunday morning,
beside a river in a park,
I went strolling in the city,
in the dawn just after dark.
Every bench; any haven,
slept a host of homeless men,
who have slipped through the cracks;
society had failed again.
I assumed there’s many reasons,
why a man lives on the street,
but strolling past the sleeping,
means that I never get to meet,
and get the opportunity,
to sit down and hear a tale,
from one of these down and outers,
and what caused their life to fail.
And then by chance upon one bench,
I spied a man who sat upright;
the collar of his coat turned up,
his sunken eyes a gloomy sight.
He hadn’t shaved for quite a while,
and his clothes looked gravely worn -
My chance to greet a homeless man,
came on an early Sunday morn.
I intended to ask questions,
hoping he might tell his plights,
about what put him on the streets,
where he must spend his nights.
And he was more than forthright,
speaking of the reasons why,
for once he claimed he had it all,
then overnight it was goodbye.
‘Three weeks ago I had it all,
a solid roof above my head.
Three meals a day, and fresh clothes,
no bills, no debt for me to dread.
I studied on the Internet,
and also there was Pay T.V.
I also had a library,
and was covered medically
I felt sorry for this fellow,
who claimed that once he had it all,
so I asked him the obvious,
what was the cause for him to fall.
Was it drugs; divorce; alcohol,
that finally took it’s toll?
‘No nothing like that’ he replied,
‘the prison granted my parole.’
Beautiful angel a soul's destination flies
High above on gossamer wings delicately
Circling between heaven and earth as soul keepers
Eclipsing the light seraph twitches softly gaze
Touching inside one bond never to be broken
An angelic message shown to the earth dwellers
A celestial sphere nacreous spirit falling
Grace kissing ataraxia sweetly embraces
Deep spiraling sentiments shape mosaics of minds
Kneeling at your feet royal mother of pearl clouds
Standing right before the eyes undying spirit
Pure shafts of wondrous gold has lit the earth tonight.
Gracious beauty floats upon a breathless air wave
Delicately enchants your sweet rendering praise
Bright faces all rise up to such mesmeric glare
Heaven sparkle in the glistening shining eyes
Love's fire burns inside reflection that smiles warm
And all mankind with open arms can only stare.
Guardian of this cosmos beyond dreams sails east
we become a single structure bound together
In cosmogyral dance around a starry floor
In space filled words evaporating straight out sighs
The mind blissfully colliding sparks kisses dust
Gazing through an endless flickering mass of light
Sprinkles on two stars cluster in magic wishes
Granting on the trail ethereal red glitters
Heavenly energy shines down to save all souls
Diamond blue gem sends cosmic shock waves twinkling
Brightly flickering blinding light upon one star
Poured on our world to save us from evil darkness
Orbiting around this earth glows raising upwards
Filled with divine energy rotating halo
Beams fly in sunshine beauty embraces angel
A Collaborated Poem with Liam McDaid, Michael McCabe and Angeline Lim
alexandrine unrhymed Tercets
POSSUM JUGGLING
Written By the Poets Listed After The Poem.
Possum juggling is a trick conjuring sport.
You should never do it if your arms are short.
Nasty teeth are gnashing as they're tossed in air.
The juggling of possums requires flair.
Full-grown possum are very massive fellows.
Their bulk when lifted, like handling jell-o.
They are so at ease as they fly through the trees.
Are you ever so tall? Fight them on your knees!
Though cuddly and soft, please never be smitten.
Asleep they appear, in a flash you're bitten.
Upon one look, so UN-cute the ragged claw!
Surely reminds me of my mother in-law.
In my compost bin found this fury creature.
Pointed nose, stinky as my English teacher-
For that part which sticks out of the can at dark.
Not a pretty site though pink, duck. It’s a fart!
Quickly grab his leg and throw him really high
Let the little blaster soar into the sky!
Be quick, juggler, Granny Clampett is waiting
It's possum stew she hopes to be creating
Wait, I forgot! My arms are too short for this.
Now on my face sprinkles a souring mist.
The moral of this story, surely you see!
Never juggle opossums! Just let them be…
Contributed Poets (in alphabetical order)
Charma Chircop, Austin Daver, Carolyn Devonshire, James Frazer, Robin Gass, James M.
Goff, Raul Moreno, John Robbins, James Peranteau, Dane Smith-Johnsen,
Irish Nectar of the Sun Goddess
This mystical aura of golden radiant sunbeams so sublime
With a warm mead laying lovely below its enchanted neck,
Is breathless releasing gasps of white-hot-fire breaths now,
All spiritual within one and a thousand sighs, it whistles too.
Brightly your radiance shines through the deep blue oceans
Where rainbows are misted with shades inside a desire born,
With curtains falling—revealing a beauty spot held precious,
Whilst in your heart glows warmly a true love priceless pure.
A royal crown bestoweth upon thine mantel of soft ‘n purest silk,
Now spangled as dewdrops glisten brightest on mirrored slippers,
As a divine swan upon one wave began dancing on joyous ripples,
An old Irish jig played on in this moment dancing you and I, as two.
The Merry Old Leprechaun looked on with his wee-soft eye twinkle
As the Sun Goddess giveth her divine breath to this sacred harvest;
Now to beareth the sweetest of fruit with warmest rays of gentleness,
So all can shareth this grandest garden moment of holy eternal glory.
We all shall now, forever and ever, prosper in this heavenly abundance
Whilst we sheddeth a most wee-curious light into this eternal paradise,
As you and I, and the Merry Old Leprechaun shareth a passion so true,
We drinketh gladly the sweet ‘n stout Irish Nectar of the Sun Goddess!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (January 17, 2017)
(Quatrain)
To everybody, but especially -
I write this poem for the elderly
who like to wield their awesome pen with might!
Make poetry your legacy and write.
Imagine this: you come upon - one day -
the “gem” of an ancestor passed away.
How thrilling knowing what brought them delight.
Make poetry your legacy and write.
I think that even though change comes with time,
the past still teaches in free verse or rhyme.
Past mistakes might set our future right!
Make poetry your legacy and write.
We’ve much to learn from those who went before.
Words to descendents ought to be the door
that brings so many vital things to light.
Make poetry your legacy and write!
March 11, 2021
for Line Gauthier's Poetry As Legacy Poetry Contest
Author's Note: These verses are wrought for a poetess-painter, a fellow poet whose sorrow kindled their first ember; may this little flame, in time, find its way unto her.
—A Quatrain Beneath Eternity—
Upon one leaf, where gravity dreamed slow,
a rain-born orb did tremble under heaven;
her argent quiver made the star-fires flow,
and dawn stood hushed beneath the empyrean;
an ant climbed forth from bark's primeval shrine,
then paused before her—dark against divine.
He drew towards her as the firmament
bent its vast curvature about her sphere;
as though some adamantine gravitation sent
a wandering world where worlds should disappear;
he touched her light—and through his six limbs ran
a shudder older than the breath of man.
He deemed her painter, fashioned out of rain,
with leaf for canvas, sunlight for her dye;
she bore the green world's secret in her vein,
and whole lost heavens trembled in her eye;
their minute orbits crossed beneath the tree—
two infinitudes made briefly one decree.
Then he ascended towards the ancient bough,
she followed that inexorable green descent;
no wound accused the other of the why,
nor did their parting bear resentment;
and time, beyond the jurisdiction of years,
let Earth spend eleven seasons unawares.
He came again. The old light knew his tread;
she had not ceased her pilgrimage through green;
no reckoning rose between the living and dead,
nor any blade of old remembrance keen;
one quill returned above the waiting page—
four living lines outshone an earthly age.
Then came the storm. The leaf became a sea;
the firmament was riven from its throne;
the wind took him beyond all astronomy,
past every star by which the lost are known;
she quaked, and all her little heavens broke—
yet waited for the word he never spoke.
Perhaps he bore one universe to tell;
perhaps her own lay folded in the deep;
perhaps the storm extinguished one farewell
before its syllables had learned to sleep;
she moves still downward through the shaken green—
and somewhere, the fifth line remains unseen.
In our earthly appetites our love is now one
To hear your heartbeat next to mine always
Oh yes—a sweet beautiful rose of paradise
You came to me by the river my bonnie lass
While branches of birds whistled tunes of love
Drifting on a summer breeze warmly whispering
Moaning as gentle thoughts murmur your name
Carried on a majestic breath of warm luscious air
With echoing babbles from a most precious maiden
Memories with one dream holding a forget-me-not
Unveiling so fair your impression left on my heart
Dancing on every pulse beat sweetly sings a siren
I watch the sun as it fades into the deep blue sea
We both sail upon one warm beauty breeze of sighs
While behind these eyes the truth forever is dawning
One flower nods in a rainbow array far beyond compare
While you who drink from love’s very chalice so true
A magical and enchanting blessing holding no disguise
You’re the breath of my life and existence my love
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (July 21, 2015) (Free Verse)
Stubbing my toeses and whiskers on women
Stepping on nettles and by a swarm of bees bitten
Bounded like hostages tied up with strings
These are a few of my suckiest things
White collared phonies and bills piled in oodles
Bad smells and poop felled from schnauzers and poodles
Old geezers who cry when the old swooner sings
These are a few of my suckiest things
News from the presses with more stock value slashes
Cornflakes that grow soggy when in the milk splashes
Little wood splinters that felt like a sting
These are a few of my suckiest things
When the moon lights
When the glee sings
When I’m feeling glad
I stumble upon one of my suckiest things
And everything turns bad
>
We take for granted every day of life
not thinking what regenerates each one...
just dealing with our happiness or strife;
achievement of our goals when day is done.
Like tiny ants, we scurry here and there,
not seeing past our minuscule domain;
to us, a giant globe held up in air
we feel secure upon our Earth's terrain.
But when we start to think of 'the beyond',
perspective changes as we realize
Earth shares a grand relationship and bond
to all that is and moves behind our skies.
We live upon one stone of billions spun,
that twirl around a star that is their Sun.
~1st Place~
Contest: January 2019
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 01/11/2019
~2nd Place~
Contest: A Stunner 2017
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Judged: 03/12/2018
she pretended that she didn't care
and all of her promiscuous deeds piled upon one another
she kept thinking
that just one more
would make her forget
all the others.
she entered a cycle.
a cycle of inflicted pain
and resentment towards her body
and her partner.
nobody understood:
if her actions were painful,
why didn’t she stop?
it was a drug.
and nobody listened.
nobody even bothered asking
why.
next time,
ask her why.
I sit alone in the forest among the grass and moss one day
I hoped to grasp fulfillment in my heart and alone pray
I shut my eyes to see my surrounding about me
I felt suddenly so cheerful and free
The sun beams leaped and danced upon my shoulder
They pressed against my warm skin much bolder
And as I listened to the sun shining
I seen in the midst of my darkness it gleaming
It told me of it's story through minds eye, I too see
Oh it made me feel so free
I continued to listen what the leaves then told me
Brushing upon one another so swiftly
It was a sound, oh my I listened delightfully
The leaves then burst in laughter, swish swish ha ha,
Chuckling ever so high as the wind did blow
It's extending branches twisted to and fro
Tickling one another of the full free winds frinzy
In the distance the church bells rang
Clang, Clang, Clang,
I even hear the people inside as they sang
The flow of their voices rested gently on the evening wind
For through eternity in this place I wanted to spend
The sunlight no more upon me within it's driven range
The coolness of the evening jumped out at me
I sit a bit longer in my minds eye the scenery to see
Again as I gasped, I suddenly do feel so free
I listened to the distant buzzing of the bees
The coolness looked so vicious and so strong
I shut my eyes no longer, the darkness was all around
With my eyes I seen the sad, dark, gloomy mossy ground.
What fun I'd had today as I shut my eyes and watched the
scenery with mostly my ears
Now a blind man of his in tuned senses, a Gift from God to him given
and should never fear the darkness, or challenged by his fears.
For that day I spent in the darkness sensing all the landscape
Over and through my senses a lovely gift God did over me drape.
Botched Artwork Saves Town
Sometime last year, in late August 2015, something unusual went viral..
It was an ancient picture on the wall, vastly unlike its original art..
A piece of botched artwork, unfinished, and yet all over the world it enthralled..
People, the tourist kind, they made a quick bee line, to see for themselves..
Ecce Homo, a seemingly priceless ancient painting in a church , upon one of its wall..
Time has ravaged its brilliant colours , and its paintwork well flaked off the wall..
One artistic old lady of 83, she took it upon herself to try restore its beauty..
Painstakingly she laboured upon days on end, as expertly as she can..
She meant well, it hurts her artistic soul to see the priceless artwork fade..
She tried her best, but the colours, they ran and it was a difficult task..
She had to go away for a short while, she left behind a half restored art...
Someone in church, horrified no doubt, took a picture of it as a matter of fact..
The uploaded picture in the internet, it was shared and quickly it went viral..
Many found it amusing, there was so much scorn, it was soundly ridiculed..
The Ecce *****fresno, or Behold The Man, it now looks like a monkey or a porcupine…
A picture of a mournful Jesus is no more, in its place is an artwork that is one of its kind…
Poor Cecilia, a widow and amateur painter, she never had a chance to finish her effort..
Her failed restoration effort rocketed around the globe and then a miracle of sorts..
People started thronging to this church in Borja, Spain, it was a pilgrimage of some kind...
After the viral picture on the internet, people just had to see and view this new find…..
Now that 150,000 visitors have come and gone, Borja is a town rejuvenated and restored..
In this village of medieval palaces and winding lanes, this botched artwork has the town resurrected…
All the free publicity from a botched artpiece, it has been a breath of life to the local economy..
God works in mysterious ways, it explains the good fortunes that follows from the smudgy renderings..
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/12/15/world/a-town-if-not-a-painting-is-restored.html?_r=0
Immaculate invasion in a cryptic, tiptoe way
Emulating doves while landing - soft and understated
Gaze upon one bright star in the sky's celestial lay
Entranced, some shepherds see a host, hear glory's tale narrated
Deception? No, for prophecies were made in ancient day
Now child in lowly manger lies, this glad day long awaited
// Rhyme scheme = ABABAB with the last letter of each line's
first word determining the first letter of the following line //