Best Upper Poems
*Image of Hallmark Channel by Giphy.
Chimed Upper Room
Chimed new day shines...eagerly corrects an upper room looks,
An attic improving rapidly...promotes roams of diligence,
Lacks found bordered leathered album...trapped topped a cornered desk.
Cutting edge mounts an Everest...Grand Canyon grooves a pass,
Emptying a corridor...grants patience traces of sweat caught brow,
Weighty whatnots slothfully shift...relief of prized treasure.
Lives confined--stilled in a photograph...bound neath grained-hewn film,
Reviving breaths aids wiping palms...adjusting dust rules idle air,
Widen pupil's gaze...proffers freedom to locked memories.
A leisurely dance of fingers...entertaining a page,
Courses from staging consequences...flips driftingly e'er so oft,
Cherished persevered poignant times...plus occasional laughs.
Age feebly trades a gentle glance...to sights of swept-up youth,
Niagara Falls revisit eyes...interlude recalls Wordsworth,
Rousseau swells the lulls...till Longfellow's maiden turns a page.
A soothing thoroughness applied...o'er sovereignty once claimed,
Delighting a soul wanting remembrance...effervescence inched rise,
Bestilled processing images...icons pageants the heart.
Strokes into yesterdays...fulfill a distant emptiness,
Once existed in certainty...consequently in dreams of need,
Now physically held...persuades rising tips of a mouth.
2020 July 30
*2nd Place*
Dusty Old Memories
~~Constance La France: Judged 2020 August 06
by Robert (Bob) Moore ©
Tap Tap on the window on a cold and frosty morn
I try hard to ignore it, it’s still not even dawn
I wish the noise would go away, then I’d go back to sleep
and I could stay here in the warmth, and sweet dreams I could keep
But ‘till I stick my head outside, I know that he won’t stop
that’s his job, to wake me up, or a mouthful he will cop
I stagger to the window, to wave so he will know
I’m awake, and out of bed and off to work I’ll go
He is the Knocker Upper. and on him we depend
To wake us in the mornings, when sleep is our best friend
he walks the streets while we all sleep, with his long wooden pole
to tap tap on the windows, in the darkness and the cold
There’s one thing I’ve always wondered, and I’d really like to know
who wakes the Knocker Upper up, so off to work he’ll go
‘cause if the Knocker Upper, doesn’t make his rounds
then no one will go and do their job, and the whole world will fall down
It was with immense fortitude that he endured the pain.
His back was arched and head rose as he strode down the thoroughfare.
No one need know what lurked behind his eyes.
Although in all honesty he wanted someone to know what lay behind his eyes.
He composed his mind determined to ride this one out,
“Ok…I’m fine…I’m fine…there’s nothing wrong” he kept saying as if it were a mantra.
A few minutes passed. Finally, the steely gaze was drawn across his face.
His lip no longer quivered.
His heart no longer tightened.
For now, he was a detached dispassionate walking skeleton, nothing to call human here!
Even the sight of a mangled kitten wouldn’t render a response.
My manners are now controlling my passion; they are forever in my debt.
Like Wellington, I’m going to have to grin and bear it!
Throw my deepest love into a raging, scorching inferno, as it will only get in the way of my duty!
I shall never succumb to societies miss giving’s. Never shall I spew forth my sensibilities to the stranger in the street. My convictions are too honest to cheapen that.
A friend, however, has the misfortune or privilege to walk among my thoughts.
I know that we will walk hand in hand into Daedalus’ Labyrinth, a Minotaur at every corner. Never knowing if we shall return. Nonetheless we do it together.
Judgement is never passed. A grimace expression will never rise from your face.
Only in your presence can I remove the mask.
Only in your presence can I let my lip tremble.
Only in your presence can I let my heart feel the despair.
…
Be that as it may, once I leave the comforts of your abode I shall once again display the stiff upper lip.
By Michael Mearns
Copyright ©Michael Mearns
Volcanoes can engulf the land
in avalanching lava blaze
entombing picturesque Pompeiis,
for Nature has the upper hand.
Tsunamis raze an earthly strand
disrupting lives that cling to breath
in e’er untimely mortal death,
for Nature has the upper hand.
Despite the undertakings planned,
a cataclysm’s fatal sweep
may chance on beings deep asleep,
for Nature has the upper hand.
Across the cosmic reaches grand
the heavens prove their vast command
where’er our telescopes have scanned,
for Nature has the upper hand.
We stamp our heady hubris brand
upon the beauteous terrain
which humans claim as their domain,
still Nature has the upper hand.
An instance in immenseness spanned
we’re but a bit of Nature and
regardless if we understand
Great Nature has the upper hand!
~ Harley White
THE SILENCE OF A SANCTIFIED SONG
I was seeking and sank into a sanctuary
It wasn’t lonely although I was all alone
From there I went to a mortuary
And wished I was but rotting bone
No flesh to sweat nor tears to shed
Just my corpse in a coffin of brass
I still can’t say why I yearned to be dead
Perhaps I was weary of walking on broken glass
Within that mortuary everything was quiet and still
No shouts from the pious which religion quells
Suddenly I realized I was tired of always walking uphill
And wished to forever silence that old church’s bells
Right next to the mortuary stood that church of oak
With a congregation of fools and mortals be
In rapt attention the foolish listened as the pastor spoke
And in the very last row sat only irreverent me
I would not open a hymnal for my voice to sing
And to this day I still remain ever and always contrary
I smash rules and commandments to which the religious cling
Thus I left that church for the silence of the sanctuary in that mortuary
© 2011.…Poefree
A part of the upper crust of society
I certainly have never been
Methinks “down to earth” more accurately
Describes this old *****sapien
No airs, no talking big, no flamboyant flair
Just little old simple me
Now that word “simple” can be misleading
I don't think I've ever been considered simple
In terms of brain power
But at the other end of the scale
Certainly never classified myself a genius either
Somewhere in the middle... an average joe
This is my comfort zone
In my teen years, I floundered around
Wondering what life had in store for me
Until I realized I had a flair for creativity
And in particular “graphic design”
I have never ever regretted my decision
To head off in that direction
In fact, at 79, I'm still active to a small degree
With a show of hands...
How many of you enjoyed your chosen profession
To the degree that you never wanted to retire
Let's see, one, two, three... oh and another!
© Jack Ellison 2014
"The Upper Room"
When time expanded
the heart opened -
the mind, like a shell,
spoke like a wheel
turning
the sum of all
towards the central core
the next number
in the sequence
is the sum
of the two before it
to believe in 1
order is found within
synchronicity’s calculation
The eyes watching,
collectively move
beyond fear
leaning into the place
of love, a new language
beyond words, very near
inside
the key turns
we are
a higher form
of alignment,
we are
the conduit,
collectively opening
the door
to the place of all things,
where there is a time
and place for everything,
the inherent divine
of all things
one note,
playing us all spectacularly
the mouth opens
inviting,
inside the cry
darkness like a cave,
speaks volumes
like light
the ears hear
the soul escape
on a vibrational note,
we are mirrors
reflecting the echo
inside us all
beliefs
and thoughts
we are used to,
bound by colours
and separation,
are unhinged gates
now removed from us,
thrown away
we are
love notes open
felt in the core,
not seen,
accelerating alignment
manifestation
the rapidity
of the tone vibration
transformation,
the true eternal
self expression, found
in how you dream
to see
your world
we are
vibrational scores
now opening door,
becoming
something other
than what we
were before
entry to the
Upper Room
Love notes,
we are keys
in vibrational score
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
"Heart Chakra Opening"
https://youtu.be/DxMzvUtN3Gc
Dress up now boy and girl, It’s time for bonfire joy
Bring your purse bring smile line up now for fun
Many costumes many shades walking in the haze
Sounds of drumming and of horn fletching reborn.
Kids wander in the dark, go from house to house
And the adults partying the night away somewhere
A girl extended her hand; we took a walk on the lake
Saw an old house not lived in for many years.
We had it all the house, nothing could stop us now
A whisper went around a small town, tummy round
The girl searched for who gifted her with a child.
As we were all in masks and outrageous costumes
I could detect her because of a mole on upper lip,
Love story goes on, my son to step into my shoes.
========================================
Honorable Mention in
Contest: Love Story sponsored by frank herrera
Mary Smith, a famous knocker-upper
in London's East End,
Shot dried peas with her pea shooter.
At workers windows
to wake them up
to get to work on time
Every morning
Mary walks up and down
the east end with her pea shooter
Shooting dried peas at the shattered windows
waking everybody up to that familiar tune
of tap tap tapping dried peas
on my window.
drink a glass of milk
creamy moon on upper lip
see in looking glass
Having lived in multiple ports
Comingling with people of various sorts
Living in luxury or existing in squalor
Coffers full or down to last dollar
In town after town one constant remained
Perhaps unnoticed to the eyes less trained
In areas it seemed that inherited blight
With hardly the cash to keep on a light
An Abode a stiff breeze from going aground
repairs needed in and out all around
To make up for all that it obviously ain't
thrown at it a few gallons of turquoise paint
This phenom becoming a growing trend
One really must wonder where will it end
So true paint can wield miraculous wonders
but it won't keep a lost cause from going under
A reflection of societal decline on the whole
Appearances above all the primary goal
white washed graves full of all that's impure
As we posture and decry and seek to assure
An in your face hue that belies the truth the
thinking have known since the days of their youth
Man his own steps proven he cannot navigate
Still we look to another and will till its too late
A self aggrandizing need to honor creation over creator
It's fact and not fodder for the latest talk show
Regardless of who's the debator
On foundational level this house of cards
Will not stand ever more
There is not enough garish paint in the world
To transform this pitiable pathetic eyesore
Upper class clowns and socialists
always whining from their crystal palaces.
Fine dining ...greasy lipped pimps
Lecturing the working man, on global warming,
who just topped off their private ride
with ozone poking jet fuel piss-
Upper class clowns and socialists,
always cawing about American gluttony
the distribution of wealth.
While wearing dead pelts around swollen necks and double chins
blood diamonds dangling from pampered pinkies
weeping crocodile tears about the evils
of the second amendment..
While behind Clive Christian scented ((((gated communities)))))
their private security dogs armed to the teeth-
Upper class clowns and socialists
burning brooks,,, babbling about lack of freedom
while strolling naked over minimum waged-manicured lawns.
dipping painted toes in minimum waged maintained pools
sipping minimum waged martinis under a commies red dawn..
So eager to take you to task
for not wearing one of their commie red masks.
Playing their little shrinking violet games...
Only half out of their-socialist closets.
hypocritical yapping -socialist autocrats-
Keep a stiff upper lip, it isn't that bad
Things will surely get better
Life is a series of these ups and downs
Surely isn't always fair weather
Unpredictable is a word that's often used
When referring to things in general
For some strange reason as we all get older
Life gets somewhat less pleasurable
Can't do the things we once did with ease
Restricted by physical abilities
At one time things were second nature to us
They now restrict our activities
But all things considered I'm doing quite well
For a man of my advancing years
Can't do ALL the thing I once used to do
Also lost some brain matter I fear
© Jack Ellison 2014
Free will and choice, we think we know,
the high road calls our name.
But man's destruction arises low
in a part we just can't tame.
And evil's there, in quiet repose,
we rap it's hollow door.
And here we sit for what we chose
as they tally the final score.
Of all the battles we fought within,
none matter but the last.
An epic struggle set to begin
from which our destiny is cast.
In the afterlife of death's staid pale,
too late to take a stand,
will eternity be in heaven or hell?
We must await the upper hand.
Now we have been released from the EU, and its cheap cost of livingWe are now going British with prices that are more than unforgiving