Best Ventilated Poems
Sniper hid vapors
tend to always bullet strike
with stealth air carrier accuracy
Silent noxious assault
pierced the nostrils
with oxy painful inhalation,
of the non-ventilated third degree
Deadly gaseous arrows
hit the overcrowded banquet room target;
and killed a-many healthy appetites,
with an alarming,
depressed tongue rate-of-mortality
Hurried footsteps exiting
is all the flatulent evidence I would need
to likewise proceed ... very quickly
Some intestinal terrorist
was dropping
lite ranch dressing bowel bombs,
most heavily
And the near-suicidal rush to escape
has gag damaged many throats,
most indiscriminately
I don’t cruelly mean to turbo fan
butt-of-joke rumors
with word-of-mouth rapidity
But ... it really was
a silent butt deadly graduation affair
And I say this,
with the utmost, stiff upper-lip respect:
Scented air peace
from an anonymous tip identity
This upwardly mobile yuppie —
Troll emoji catphish-ing bottom feeder
harbors no low-brow,
high school dropout insensitivity
There are no shape walls
to bridle one's emotions
creativity is properly ventilated
unbound by meter or syllable count
embracing nakedness
yanked naked in its virginity
The binding belt of chastity
given over to lyrical lovers
Sleeping quietly in the meadows
a pristine area free of squatters
fighting for their rights
with sonnet-crafted homes
and hamlets defined by literature.
Straying away from the norm
acolytes watch as castles are built,
that worships orderly expression
poetic masterpieces,
safeguarded and preserved at all times
metaphors align into a specific subset
pictures look like works of art,
there is a distinct realm
for those unfit to fly in their confines.
Outside of the norm
is a vast nebulous
growing quill flowers from seeds sown
the power of smell to evoke memories,
which one's brain may elect to ignore
when settling at a location of a specific form
is what one's words must imply.
On this trip, there are no rules,
only that burning desire inside
strive to harass the page,
fire getting into the core
from telling someone a mystery,
till the key bares the chest
where other ideas demand rebirth.
1st Place Contest Winner
Written: August 28, 2022
Free Verse - Old Or New Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
5th Place Contest Winner
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
A simple god so slender and symbolic
having a one way onslaught in his approach
and toiling with the master-class of the game
to revolutionize an entire country away from his.
He bastardized his inheritance of stiffness and a crunch system
To transmit the pleasure of a video game to a live coverage.
A believer of his approach, a missionary in his style,
legendary in his execution, but often blind to its short comings.
Going an entire season without a fault
and giving the possibility to travel cloud 49
makes his glory carry such schoolbag of mysteries and awe.
From the African prince of Monaco, to the great George Weah
and the Dennises, Thierrys, Vierras and Anelkas,
he converts a dusty wood into a luxurious boat.
Academy is his bedroom, ventilated by continuity
even though some megastars were short of understanding this.
Maintenance of a certain threshold even with half loaded guns
is very difficult to achieve and impossible to maintain
but not at all to this attacking minded General.
Spending a decade to shoot regions near the actual target
under the stuffiness of limitations both in finances and talents
shines the stadium light even in the darkness of his underachievement.
Prudence and a closed fist was his personality’s widget
b’cos glory on the pitch alone isn’t his mental gadget.
Placing a repercussion of a very stiff budget
and his command, downgraded so low to a midget.
All these because he’s carried the club like a personal object
placing the short sightedness of instant glories to an eject.
Stability in his empire is now a complete project
As his winning dominance was once a European subject.
He’s now back with an intimidation which will make opposition fidget.
Back to his rank, as he wears all the colours
rising in significance after all the hurdles
heart poured out to a club glorifies him beyond a mere coach,
the riches of such dedication influences the staff of his reputation,
winning and being a champion has always been his signature.
He has once again proven it,
as the world of sports stands still in ultimate salute.
No! Cut this piece here!
No! Not there!
Why didn't you cut it right?
says Princess StepSister's
hyper-ventilated syndrome,
jonesing for her next pork chop.
I would have finished
but you bellowed me away
in your Ugly StepSister voice
demanding from open refrigerator door
that collard greens must stop evaporating
behind your eyes.
Ugly StepSister?
Did you just call me a StepSister?
I'm just saying
you think you're a Whatever Princess
but you don't act like one
because, as you know,
princesses are always kind
and say please and thank you
and not whatever,
and seldom if ever bark and bite
at the hands created to lovingly feed them
for the next several years;
while Ugly StepSisters
act like whatever bullies,
talk like ballistic assault weapons.
Which is why
Cinderellas are selected to dance
with Prince Charmings,
and thereby become kind Princesses,
rather than stuck in Ugly StepSister roles and rules,
harping at Prince Charming Dads
to cut their pork chops faster,
and better,
and now,
if not yesterday.
Oh...
Would you cut my pork please, in smaller pieces?
and not take your usual gimpy time, thank you.
Why of course my Princess,
I love to live your Prince Clumsy.
Decadent perimeter a decorous
tray doth betray
Polished cart a nubile mask doth
display
From black, coiffed locks baited line
doth sway
From slippery, glossed lips a sweet
nectar doth spray
In dark corner, sleek, painted lashes
lustily fray
On cheeks, hearty splotch of rouge,
as sparkling rubies arrayed
Powdered, satin neck a smooth,
silky route doth relay
Below, a swinging gait with nimble
legs that teasingly play
While regal, surface stream my
passions do tap
My mind longs heart's deep
reservoir uncap
The silted mine's exterior allures
with its glittering scrap
But I long the buried riches of soul's
deep crevasses to unwrap
The tender juices from heated lips
flow like sap
But my burning desire is to
navigate heart's ventilated gap
Your soft, rhythmic words my
beating pulse doth clap
But would much rather your
subconscious strings map
Per chance reason's melded door
doth flap
Thereon, lust's sensuous screen
we'll strap
In captive terra firma blind,
Blossoming hopes not divined
Maker's implanted design,
Awaiting the elements to mine
To dark, seamless crevice assigned,
With burrowing predator aligned
No airy expanse in which to unwind,
To ventilated pocket resigned
No preening hand to mind;
In brackish granules twined
No spade, hoe utility to grind,
In earth's, dark womb enshrined
Nor sun's rays green pigments bind;
Incubating warmth in silted brine
Only providential, succoring lifeline,
Until new seedling bursts its rind
The worm to the bee:
The flowers you reap
are born of the soil
which is ventilated by me
with my sunless burrows.
And every bud opening
is a flight of mine
into the very heart
of the infinite Sky.
It was a winter night so cold,
Fog and mist made it difficult to behold.
Hardly there was anyone to talk,
At a distance I saw a policeman on walk.
With a little swagger, Stomach full of beer,
He was blinded by his vigor I swear.
At a corner there lay a beggar,
Shivering and throbbing with piercing air,
Cop came near, who was
Demented by the churning beer.
For the sake of his ostentatious power,
He got hold of the beggar’s collar.
He gave him mighty blows,
From chin, chest, stomach to toe.
Suddenly from his starved body,
Blood began to flow.
His sniveling cry
Ventilated my pavid mind.
Help! Help! I cried,
But my eyes were dry.
Either it was very cold,
Or my desires were not that bold.
With a deep sigh and chest held tight,
His departed soul took a long flight.
I was still standing there,
Cursing beggar’s fate.
I gathered my courage,
But it was too late.
Next morning,
Local newspapers were flooded
With headings of various types;
“One more gave up to cold”
“Freezing cold, one more dead”
“What is government doing?”
But the last one
Shook me within,
What was I doing?
In that cold winter night.
Poetry,
An amusing grace that better
the spirit of the poet.
Poetry,
Like boundless world,
Amazes hearts and spirits.
No course have ever been so faithful
than the course of being a poet.
Tiring winds to catch
And soil to merge
Has always
Risen my wit for pen.
My mother earth
And her environs
Are proliferating notes
I behold.
Persistence urge
To have a say
Is one instinct
To my ventilated breath.
The feelings
To remain immortal
And have impact
is another laudable loam.
Sincerely speaking,
poetry
has been my chime.
It stays by me
in the rain and in an odd dying state.
Poetry has won me many glory
It is still winning me some more.
Countless exalted barter
and consistent standing ovation.
What's more to say of poetry
Little will one wonder.
Well, it has become
My gem,
My sword,
My song
and my soul.
Pristine silence in behemothical space,
They were all there present right now,
All lips were sealed and not a word slipped from them,
Breaths were bated and exhaled suffused,
If ventilated air hastened over normal,
They startled quite fast,
However none could show they were startled,
Only iris moved from east to west,
They dared not move iris north to south,
Even movement of body hairs they could feel,
While they waited for the call,
Drop of needle would have been noise pollution,
Some prayed and others had varied images,
Only one thought bound them in commonality,
Let this not be there call,
Hours went by and the moment came,
Somebody stood up and began the roll call,
Some collapsed on chairs others were dragged after their call,
Others who escaped now broke into joyous yells,
Guards told them that they were not,
And they could go,
They took on their feet,
And ran not taking a second look at those called.
At the corner of the town you shall find it
A small den filled with cigarette smoke and booze
Wherever you decide to sit, just squeeze you will fit in
Among the best kind of people, the kind with nothing to lose
The liquor sold may not be the best in quality
The people here are far from becoming financially stable
But they are good company to keep, while keeping away from reality
Where laughter is shared around every draped shaky table
The barmaids keep quitting for the pay is never enough
To avoiding glasses breaking; they mostly come in plastic
You can’t request for a song, the DJ doesn’t have
The bartender is also the DJ, and he cant afford to fall sick
The place is always open, no matter what time of day
The drinking never stops, it parallels the hour hand
There is always someone to serve you, just as long you pay
If you tip the barmaid well, you can make an extra demand
Even If you have no money, you can get drunk still
As long as next time you remember, to settle all your debts
But whatever you drink be assured, comes not with a high bill
The bartender gives credit, and he never regrets
Men and women come to drink for all kinds of reasons
Some drink to celebrate while others drink to forget
Many drink to pass the time, just to get through the seasons
Others are just lonely,no one is back home not even a pet
The place is not always well lit, nor well ventilated
It’s always crowded, with no room for a dance floor
But people care only for the booze,and how quickly it gets them sedated
They drink till past their bedtime, and the next day the drink more
Everyone is welcome here, whether a regular or passing through
No one will judge you here, its home away from rock bottom
There are hustlers and dreamers and those with nothing to do
You can be yourself here, with no regard to society’s norm
They drink themselves senseless, but talk lots of good sense
Philosophy and religion mixes with whatever say now the politicians
Whether Trump can do the job, and God bless Mike Pence
Shame on that Bruce Jenner, and TV is better off without the Kardashians
Standing 'neath rocky vestige on Hatteras Cape
Overhead, sky's billowy caverns offer cerebral escape
Proffering delusions of grandeur in every size, shape
A ventilated ocean of blue; visions of bliss at which to
gape
Yet mind firmly planted in gravity's brace
Earthy ambitions wandering eye doth embrace
Nature's rhythms around beating heart do drape
Cluttered ridges enveloped by Crape Myrtle's sallowing
serape
Dark clouds swoon over the ridges, panoramic view
efface
Malingering light house hovers o'er the shadowy terrace
An angry ocean rises and then tumbles at rocky base
Cool, frothy ocean mist curdles my exposed nape
Cresting waves pound shoals; weary feet do chase
Swirling wind hurdles stinging needles at weathered face
Screaming sea gulls serenade, then with strafing swoops
menace
Spoken said
Verbalized declared enunciated
Given aired voiced
Brought out whispered
Proclaimed commented
Blurted breathed broadcasted
SPOKEN
Asserted affirmed promulgated
Spoken truths and untruths
Advertised where am I to be casted
Publicized overwhelmed subdued demoralized
BROKEN
Talked discussed uttered thrown up despaired
Vented broadcast gasped phrased up and out
Broken
Snarled shot ripped (out)
Silently diverted screams of dispersions’
Vocalized shouted articulated denounced
SPOKEN
Shared passed announced Be it so,
Spoken is the broken speech at naught
Alleged ventilated averred formulated
Drawled avowed
Doubted Be it so, spoken is the broken
BROKEN
Vocalized shouted articulated denounced
Shared passed announced
Be it so, spoken is the broken speech at naught
Broken is Spoken
Quiet marks the spot
5/4/23
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Over acted,
Over budgeted
Over corrected
Over debated.
Over educated,
Over funded.
Over gripped.
Over heated,
Over inspected,
Over Jammed,
Over kicked.
Over looked,
Over mentioned,
Over needed,
Over ordered,
Over powered.
Over quenched.
Over rated,
Over stitched,
Over tipped.
Over utilised,
Over ventilated,
Over written.
Over xeroxed,
Over yahoo-ed,
Over zealous.
After the big bang in space you hang and hang
Getting ready and steady before our history began
Beating a couple of a billion stars to become the Sun
Molding the ashes of earth for the descent of Man
What was your name before we gave you our own?
What was it like the morning of that first dawn?
Did you see our ancestors crawl out of the sea?
Did they acknowledge you, even as they roamed free?
While other planets were too cold or too hot
You made sure earth was a well-ventilated cot
You gave light and warmth just the right dose
A little less or more and humanity would never have arose
Life in abundance, from microbes to the great dinosaurs
Many creatures of the like, when the world had no doors
Then you got rid of the dinosaurs, to save us from harm
That was the plan, so that our turn could at last come
You know which day; the first human stepped on the ground
A great evolution hybrid, compound of your compound
Did he thank you for the water he drank and the air he breathed?
Or for that flower he picked for the first woman he kissed
And when humans became the most dominant species
You guided them to cross the most dangerous of seas
They conquered the world; from ice age to industrial age
But for you it was just another turn of a simple page
They divided the world into nations and races
You watched as they discriminated those of darker faces
They forgot that you polished every creature with a unique shade
And only Mother Nature can answer for what she made
Where were they when you reduced earth’s temperature?
Who was present when you designed life’s nomenclature?
When you painted the sky blue without using a brush
Doing everything to perfection without any rush
Yet we walk around proud, as if there is no extinction
Self appointed custodians, with portfolios of distinction
Finding our refuge inside high walls and banking halls
Staking our immortality by the words of ancient scrolls
We have the theory of it all but it’s not enough
For we have not traveled to the last galaxy above
To answer the mysteries surrounding your birth
To understand why you chose to support life on earth
What keeps you going, what’s beneath your core?
What else do you have for us in store?
Is there an afterlife after we die? Oh great life supporter !
Does our conscious live on in a land of endless laughter?