Best Veracious Poems
It was not that she was the only woman in the group, when mingling precariously beneath the bronze figure of William Booth, or her classic stance, when placing saintly, the newsprint covered bottle to lips willingly breached, but her opulent style, her contrast of attire, and as yet her hair unruffled. Although sparse of jewelry a gold ring dangles on a chain, catching the light as it shines in the noon day sun, a tinge of blood trickles down her neck. Her recently pierce ear lobe, bearing signs of some street wise ritual? Evidence of suave sophistication, exists with movements of grace and elegance, fingers more use to the gentle stem of the crystal goblet, than the demure grasp of the shapeless neck of a bottle of brown ale.
a fork in the lane
no signpost to guide one home
a need or a deed
Her head begins to lift higher and higher with every mouthful of distinct courage, every courteous act. Then! A look of deep despair, as the bottle is released from her reluctant deep red lips, a senseless shake only proved her greatest fear. Suddenly to her aid came a wayward chap, swiftly finishing his own endless gorge. He commences to wipe the neck of his perpetual habit, with a mucus soiled cuffless sleeve, before passing it on to her veracious hand, his eyes eagerly awaiting its return.
a lane to despair
not alone but in the palm
existence or life
After the corrosive day is over, the sun finally at rest, only the motley park bench will be her abode with printed tabloids to cover her chilled exterior, her metabolism accelerating, to become one of so many, a license to enter their dissipation, only then will options for her begin to diminish, external metamorphosis soon to blend with inner corruption, life’s destruction rapid along the highway of completion!
first rays of sunshine
a trial or tribulation
the signpost renewed.
© Harry J Horsman 2018
Springtime touch unfolds veracious winsome,
colorful rainbow blossom to come.
Tranquil redolence fragrance,
a ballad narrated on carpet grass pleasance.
Crisp dawn enlightens fanciful golden
colors, of purples, pinks, greens, quaint and olden.
Blends float and dance amongst the valley
outstretch, toward enraptured abbey.
Glorious hanging ivy, juniper, kiss
me not plants, all in a garden's vast bliss.
As the fields blossoms quince to thirst
sweet and tender jewels among all to burst.
7/28/2021
Veracious voices that come out to play,
Wandering words tell the tale…
Mending hearts in the mist.
Where secluded sacrifices submerge,
Whispers warming in their waves…
Sailing scriptural shores.
A man stands alone in the baneful breeze,
Watching the world decaying;
The juggling juggernaut.
This verse is inspired by & dedicated to, our brother poet Tommy (Son of Spock)...who is on hopefully, a short sabbatical...Live long and prosper SOS...lets show some love...
Nov.13.2019
Pick A Title, Vol 11 -
Kimo(3 Stanzas)
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Placed 1'st...Thank You
~ At last! ~ At last! As
a sweet rejoinder to Him my
soul cried out aloud, at last, as I
marveled in the benignity of my
Lord. For imparting to me, the
liberal blessing of my life ...
and for giving me His
eternal assurances.
For delivering me ...
returning me to a veracious, and overt; amenable
position-of-hope-and faith in Him. Yes-for-purging-and
lifting; empowering and molding ... maturing me, indemnifying
me in His certitude, and enduring graciously the-horrid-penalty;
of my willful prides contumacy. For ne’er to trammel the ambling
of my committed volition. In the greater wisdom and grace of their
instruction I willingly did revolt in sheer defiance before His tender
eyes of mercy. (Amid the futile campaign, (of my own bitterness)).
Distinguishing only those weary days apart from the welcome and
gentle fervor, of His embrace; and so, through this detachment,
and His patient hands my heart’s longing was brought to know
compassion and to be absolvitory. As written on my heart,
and being able ... today, and thankful to Him to see. Of the
many roads I have peregrinated down, illuminated upon
this narrow path, of God’s all-inclusive way ... it is all I
~ have come to truly discern, of an aeolian peace. ~
The words of this poem, form the reference in shape and idea; of a heavenly amphora.
You till your own garden,
you sow your own seeds
You harvest the memories,
you feast on the breeze
You water those choices,
both made and unmade
Your truth deeply hoed
—veracious to lay
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2017)
Orange red as burning fire beneath me
Floating it ventures over and beyond
Through the trees like white arrows, piercing through
Emboldened, silenced the forest without sound
Leaves scatter, burning through the shattered face
Enlightened by the calm breeze of near day
Practically suffered by ignorance
The eyes of white look, can’t find what to say
Avoiding the trees, the entity strikes
Air is forced to succumb to the white knight
Peace is all but reached, not a sound is voiced
Daylight is coming quicker, it lost sight
Corruption seems rampant, but it’s nature
Veracious in its contemplation right
Awaiting complete reversal the fog
Releasing its grip on the day’s great might
Russell Sivey
It wasn’t that she was the only woman
in the group, that mingled precariously
beneath the bronze figure, or her classic
stance, when placing immaculately the
newsprint covered bottle to lips willingly
breached, but more her opulent style, her
contrast of attire, her hair as yet unspoilt.
Although jewel less except for a wedding
ring in her recently pierce blood stained ear
lobe, (this bearing signs of some street wise ritual?)
she still wore a suave sophistication, eyes
that bred a wanton life, fingers more use to
the gentle stem of the crystal goblet, than
the demure grasp of the shapeless neck of
the common brown. But alas maybe the
corrosion has not as yet penetrated her
foreboding mind, a mind that in time will
be given to surrender, never to realize that
this volatile life will plunge her deeper, into
one shambolic life, whilst still trying to escape
from the previous. But! Who knows what ills she
was force to bear, what tribulations life brought
upon her, maybe her new found acquaintance
comfort her, listen to her sympathetically,
understanding her predicament, also a novelty
this sharing, this caring, respect and reverence
showered upon her, like solicitous petals
falling gracefully upon her shoulders,
removing the burdens of a lifetime.
Her head
began to lift higher and higher with every
mouthful of distant courage, every courteous act.
Then! A look of deep despair, as the bottle was
released from her reluctant deep red lips, a
senseless shake only proved her greatest fear.
Immediately to her aid, came one of her new found
companions, swiftly finishing his own endless gorge,
he commence to wipe the neck of his perpetual habit,
with his mucus soiled cuff less sleeve, before
passing it on to her veracious hand, his eyes eagerly
awaiting its return.
One can imagine when the long day
is over, the sun finally at rest, only the motley bench will be hers, only the best that fleet street can offer, will cover her chilled body, her metabolism soon accelerating, to become one with theirs, a license to enter their dissipation, only then will all options for her diminish, external metamorphosis soon to blend with inner corruption, life’s destruction almost completed!
© Harry J Horsman 1991
The Samurai warrior stands unassuming, quiet, and fits in to the background on any occasion,
Each month is a month of new life, gales rush and sound over the tops of trees, he listens,
His life is one of wisdom and military education, he judges nobody but he protects innocence,
He respects all the seasons, the beauty of nature in all of its forms, a profound philosophy.
The rich cultivation of his disciplined spirit is a lifetime lesson, it has taught respect.
He watches as flowers show through the earth and wonders at their delicacy, a poetic beauty,
A true warrior treasures personal enlightenment, it is honed and is polished with refinement,
Enlightenment, watching pink cherry blossom in leafless trees, as nature provides everything.
Rich cultivation of the mind is expressed by his meticulous writings with skills of an artist,
His spring is spiritual, thick blossoms are pure a true joy, a China rose unfolds a red petal,
He lives an unwritten code of Bushido his values will never be comprised he is a man of honor,
And the true warrior holds loyalty and courage above all, he is veracious and has compassion.
Times in deadly combat does not take away compassion for the weak, the needy or the children,
A man of tempered steel, a man who would happily die for his cause, has a gentle simple life,
In a wood on a kind day, meditating on a warm rich river bank, the trickling water is peace,
The Samurai has respect for life, humility is the sign of power, a power through submission,
These hard won gifts, balance the Samurai warrior, he has a passion for philosophy, integrity,
As words can hurt others he carefully chooses what to say, when to say, each word is guarded,
To these men of few words, each word is a powerful statement and they do not abuse this power,
It's difficult to get them to talk, they will ask questions and they listen, then they advise.
People think plants are not violent
This is where I will tend to disagree
Have you ever seen a vine strangle a tree?
What about when a fly is devoured by the Venus?
When the weeds clog the yard with such immensity that drains every nearby plant?
Sure you have
Therefore you have witnessed the hard-wired DNA principle
To survive
Regardless of species
The predation and the prey
All within the concept that.....
Celery somehow made it to dominance in a seemingly peaceful fashion
Yet deceptively, as stoic as this ... Celery... seems
It most certainly practices a turgid diplomacy of violence
Showing its importance as
An invaluable part of classic broth
A team player in regards to fiber
And
Let's never forget the partnership with peanut butter
So it began
Celery was allowed into the favored gardens of the chosen vegetables
Walled away from the thorny, thick monstrosities that grew unattended
On the other side of the gate
Shedding their pollen without the slightest of apologies
But none of this was a concern for Celery
As Celery grew strong, robust and prolific
Soon it was apparent Celery had larger dreams than walled-off gardens
It was time for world domination
It was time to run the competitors unto the topsoil
Celery's surrounding mother roots went deep and everywhere within the soil
This unquenchable thirst caused
Many neighboring plants to become so stifled
A massive plant exodus occurred
Creating even more harsh turf conditions
This was compounded with the
Many casualties from plant-like warfare
Yet, one may ask
Did Celery show mercy and a vegetative state upon its face
No (and yes)
The roots took over and drained the essence from every beet, scallion and basil
In proximity
While simultaneously and
Ravenously soaking in every bit of energy needed for
Survival
Even at the cost of Celery's family and friends
So
Given this veracious tale
Do you still believe plants are not violent?
A Venus shape, the Men go Ape:
tender, slender, svelte!
So toned and taut, her treasure sought-
by far, the best they've felt!
Inviting lips, come hither hips,
her silhouette in waif.
Vixen curves and kitten purrs...
no male, of course, is safe.
Diamonds are a girl’s best friend they say.
I know of a story that’s filled with dismay.
A girl worshiped a gem in abnormal way.
Many never believed how she went astray.
Only one man knew of what she did pray.
Now she began her destiny to begin to prey.
Devil’s diamond was her private bouquet.
Daring spells spoke, never served allay.
Universal demons took her soul in decay.
Spells drove her gem to dust, then to clay.
Traces of her body did discolor and splay.
Disheartened love broke, as he turned gray.
Evil will always win over any precious array.
Veracious greed drives away personal cliché.
I know now not to worship any gem or pay.
Listen to hidden words in this poetic play.
Sacrifice
Hardships, however hard they try,
Will always be cruel.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the hardships,
Gently they go - the harsh, the barbarous, the inhumane.
How happy is the true atonement!
Are you upset by how veracious it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the atonement so accurate?
I saw the big unpleasant person of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the pain.
Are you upset by how prodigious it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the pain so galactic?
I saw the the yellow compunction of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the repentance.
Whip. whip, whip.
One afternoon I said to myself,
"Why isn't the fellowman more extraordinary?"
Down, down, down into the darkness of the fellowman,
Gently it goes - the characterless, the mundane, the commonplace.
I saw the eternal trait of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the humbleness.
Does the humbleness make you shiver?
does it?
They thought i was disabled by choice, not by veracious right,
They thought, ‘cos i objected to medicine’s lady,
But my parents were both a malady,
To medicine’s elegance and height.
My parents were faith healers, into prayer,
For coughs, colds and constipation,
And so I did object to faith consummation,
Rather than medicine’s beautiful lair.
I was desperate to become independent by a male OT,
But I hid my yearning, covered by my face,
My sociology became bad and with a poisoned lace,
Until I had to escape the worlds of religion and disability.
My blue bird lifted upon my sight,
And then i confounded the solid door,
Manoeuvred into the computing floor,
In the stillness of the night.
A very small thought passed my mind,
Right or wrong? There’s morality in existence,
But i did just continue on without much persistence,
The keyguard from the cupboard to find.
After half an hour or so, there it was,
My name on top of the high score board,
RIM, never to be belittled or to have water poured,
On this gamer of much dexterity, cause.
So i was functional, that would just say everything,
But i knew and felt I’d turned the tide against me,
Hot with sweat, i did not have nature on my side umbilically,
And the law would also condemn my aiming.
However, i did think i could still complain legally,
Against no named person for living and loving,
And because i was also disabled and aggravated, in the ring,
I thought I’d not be charged necessarily.
Life under threat, but there are boats,
Sea water may not be right for an isolated disabled child,
And paddles can avenge the tide to forward gild,
That child from the darkness of no votes.
Nature comes back and people burn,
To help you up your ladder of reason,
And sea water is by no means treason,
So i did change from that day on to upturn.
I danced amongst the damp verde fern
As rare as the day this ***** was borne
My flesh did contrast
My eyes stood wide
As i smiled upon Devons devine delicate form
I tinkered along the enticing stream
Which guided my humble
Naked frame
She glistened and smiled
Tinkered and whiled
Within full moon I lay unashamed
I tiptoed beneath her curtains of green
As I followed the sheep to shore
A cavern a cliff a viscous veracious
Biting sea
Oh beauteous
Bounty
I could ne-er ignore
I knelt by her hoof as the sea bit my calves
As my tongue encircled her juice
The finest and sweetest of spring water
Mother Nature would dare to produce
It trickled it teased it willingly pleased
The palette upon my knife
Oh sacred Lady
Mother Nature
Sweet
So unassuming
Im yours till the end of my life
Hidden Inside
The true person hidden inside
holds your innate surreptious inner-most feelings,
Your veracious thoughts and emotions
that you would never even tell a single living soul,
Even possessing those things you
wouldn’t even tell the best of your friends,
Your hopes, your goals, your ambitions,
and your interests no one may ever know about,
Reveal the true person hidden deep inside,
crack open your shell and let your emotions be set free.
Travis “Ceijaeh” Klein