Best Veritable Poems
Meeting my homegirls Wilma Neels
and Kim Van Breda with shrieks and squeals
hasty introductions and we're on our way
for a night of reading at Poetry Café
We've Yasmin to thank for arranging the meet
with fellow Soupers, a veritable treat
Yasmin the sneak had their names withheld
we're apprehensive yet still by curiosity propelled
My fingers are crossed to meet Eileen
fave poetess mine, the Passionate Queen
dare I wish to meet hamsome Ryerson
not to mention Anne-Lise Andresen?
On first glance the café seems somewhat rowdy
from one of the corners a chorus of "Howdy!!!"
heaven help!! I'm rooted to the spot
all my fave poets from the Souper pot
The Queen of Passion, my special friend
Eileen Ghali, an angel heaven-sent
with open arms and that beguiling smile
that's touched us all over thousands of miles
I spot our Father Christmas, Jackie Ellison
Oh my, mercy me, the hamsome Tim Ryerson
then the beautiful being, Anne-Lise Andresen
and our pretty young doll, Anne Poetess Currin
Andrea, crack writer and popcorn freak
and Nette Onclaud, Madame Linguistics
the talented and sweet Leonora Galinta
oh, for a long time I've longed to meet her
There's the much-loved Reach-Out Lamoureux
a stylish gentleman, delighted to meet you
our very own Linda who happiness spreads
memorable the day as Brown Licia meets Red
He who writes poetry with a golden pen
bestest, fantasticest, hamsomest friend
Rich-Heart Seal-ed Door, my bruv from abroad
by his smile I'm bowled over; by his charm I am awed
I'm jumping with joy at my fave poets meet
befuddled, bewildered; who first to greet?
midst the mountain of talent I'm on a positive high
overwhelmed, I simply break down and cry
This one needs a whole lot of polishing and smoothing
out, but I was too excited to submit it. I'll iron out the
crinkles soon. LOVE TO YOU ALL, LICIA
Of this, I've always wanted to write
How hard it is to grow up white
The very idea makes people uptight
Enough to cause a gigantic fight...
In this, the age of the diverse
There isn't much that could be worse
White skin's a plague, a veritable curse
It almost seems to be perverse...
So I've put this off as long as I can
Knowing the flames that it would fan
And how it would be roundly panned
If not utterly and completely banned...
Yet now's the time for a principled stand
This is the moment; here is my plan:
I stroll every day 'neath the sun in the sand
~ To turn my stubbornly white skin tan
September 05, 2019
Write the Poem You Have Always Wanted To Contest
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
Beauty
Beauty is all around me, in a million different things.
The silvery haired, wrinkled face of one that has impenetrable memories
She smiles and longs for someone, anyone to bust her out of her prison of silence.
It is in the wispy, snowy white, silk of a milkweed as it frees itself of its casing
It arrives in the sound of a beautiful well orchestrated piece of music that penetrates my soul.
In the simplicity of a simple clump of wildflowers that grows freely in the ditch.
As my dog Quincy runs freely with his friend Sawyer
the beauty of their comradery and unbridled joy is unparalleled.
It is in the kindness of those who consider the feelings of others and gently encourage.
It emerges from the generosity at Christmas and unselfish acts all around from veritable strangers.
The lake on a late November afternoon with its shades of bluish greys
And a backdrop of thick denseness but a silvery light reflecting on the water
and peeking through to show me one more surprise before covering up with its blanket of dark.
The tedious overnight work of a spider who sits in wait
in the most radiant web with drops of dew sitting carefully on a strand.
In the spirit of one who never gives up
and remains grateful even after unmentionable hardships and grief.
In the words of the poets claiming words as their own
to create the most unique ways of speaking their truth.
In the love of a couple simply holding hands as they walk.
The joy of a child’s face as he sees his favourite grandpa has come to visit.
Of course, there are the generous sunsets
and flowers of every colour that decorate my outside world
The seagulls that stand on one leg,
The geese that fly to unknown destinations at the same time every day
The elaborate sandcastle built lovingly with a dad on the beach
The nest with chirping baby birds begging furiously to fill their emptiness
made lovingly with grasses and twigs and various treasures.
The smell of beautifully roasted coffee permeating my early morning
It is a beautifully crafted piece of art that is fresh from the soul’s expression of the artist’s brush
I have learned to see the beauty all around and build a life of gratefulness
Beauty surprises and comes in simplest form
Which helps to drown the sorrow that inevitably must come to us all.
Grace Daub
December 1, 2021
Waking up, in a light gray four poster bed.
With flowers and ribbons, painted
on the ceiling above my head.
.
Satin slippers and a robe, so soft.
A young girl, I feel when I do recall......
Those decades ago, those tender memories
that are never lost!
.
The walk down the soft, rose-colored,
carpeted stairs,
I honestly felt as a princess belonging to a
great monarchy somewhere.
Each time I glided down those circular stairs,
so rare!
.
I ate in the breakfast nook, on the most elegant
ivory wood table, I ever saw.
With a maple hutch with priceless nic nacs
and family photographs.
.
The milk was delivered to the back door.
In glass! No wax, faux de raul.
The tablecloth was always clean.
And heavenly pressed. Mom had fresh
flowers on it, or seasonal decor.
Outside, the grass was soft like God's
carpet, so green,so summer fresh!
I loved my bare feet, running through it.
An gigantic umbrella, was there in a table
of course.
Bright golden yellow outside, inside of it a
veritable bevy of flowers.
That table so outstandingly white~
It so reflected the innocence of my very
blessed days and full starlit nights.
I did my homework in the dining room
on a polished mahogany dining room table.
Above me a sparkling crystal chandelier.
Below me, i rested on dark, thick,green
velvet cushions.
Yes, life was more than good to me.
To recall these young girlish days
with you, ah!
I do so quite happily, through a
poetic lens of time.
With you, my beloved, new poetry
family.
January 21, 2020
6:30am PST
Special acknowledgement to Robert Lindley, who
had the kindness to inform me by Soupmail of
typo errors, I had missed! Gratefully, PR xx
Our hearts were a veritable slow dance
And I didn’t have to put my baby
In the corner
Our retinas
became diamond forged binds
In serenity’s lock
Dipping
Your tear ducts within our wishing wells
Never
Running
Dry
Our flesh
Bringing lukewarm elasticity
To gentle boil
Every graceful thrust
Mimicking fireplace embers
Under cabin’s winter moon
Until my deep sigh
Embedded paragraphs
Within “Dear John” parchment
…
At least
Trinity’s hourglass
Permitted me to sing I love you choruses
Before your hearts’ phone line
Disconnected
…
©Drake J. Eszes
A is for Antenna
A is for Antenna, the two-in-one, receiving in and transmitting away.
B is for Broadband, to fire away on the high speed digital highway.
C is for Current, what a beauty, it is all but free- electron- flow.
D is for decibel, not the horrible, but a logarithmic unit and a ratio.
E is for Electrons, the teeny weeny charged particles, so light
F is for Fibre, or simply glass that passes streams of bits as light.
G is for Gain, could also mean loss, a measure of what’s in and what’s out.
H is for Harmonics, often unwanted multiples that are up and about.
I is for Ionosphere, the upper reaches of appreciable ionization
J is for Jitter, Who wants this unwanted, random fluctuation
K is for Klystron, just a tube which, in the microwave range, oscillates
L is for Limiter, thank God, the input to a system , it limits.
M is for Modulation, a wave-on -wave super imposition
N is for Noise, the hated disturbances due to heat’s action
O is for Oscillators, they are from low to ultra high frequency
P is for Pulse, not of the heartbeat, but a quick shot of energy.
Q is for Quartz, the stabilizer that is piezo-electric
R is for Regeneration, recuperating-the- sick- signal- trick.
S is for Semiconductors, not semi-precious, but indispensable
T is for Transmission, making communication finally possible,
U is for Unlimited Plans, the veritable godsend for the customer
V is for Voltage, the difference of potentials, one should remember.
W is for Waves, electromagnetic waves not the ones in the ocean,
X is for X-rays, against which the engineer should exercise caution
Y is for Yagi, it’s only an antenna, not a yogi or a tribal totem
Z is for Zirconium, hungry for neutrons in the context of atom.
That puts in a nutshell the revolution
Of electronics and communication.
02 Mar 2013
S.Jagathsimhan Nair
For: Cyndi Macmillan’s “ Z is for Zaria-ABC poetry” contest.
Let me set something straight -
Right here, right now!
Let me put India in the right perspective,
Let me banish some myths,
Some gross misconceptions,
And take you beyond elephants,
Sacred cows, snake charmers and yoga,
Beyond Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Taj Mahal,
To a civilization rooted for
over 5,000 years in the past
To a land rich - majestically rich -
In many cultures, customs and traditions,
In a bewildering variety of races,
Religions, languages and folk arts,
In a vibrant tradition of dance and music,
In religious festivals and traditional events,
In saints, sadhus, gurus and sages,
In gods, goddesses, munis and mahatmas,
In temples, palaces, shrines and monasteries;
I'll baby-steps you through a land
Of Vedas and Upanishads,
Of epic stories and incredible mythologies,
Of Ramayana, Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita,
Through one of world's great spiritual sanctuaries,
Where religion is a way of life;
An overwhelming, complex land -
Its charm, its vitality and yes, its confusion,
Atonce alarming and enticing.
And that's the way India is:
Elusive, confusing, contradictory,
mysterious and exasperating!
Beyond easy description or analysis,
A phenomenal diversity of dress
and manners making one aware
of a different world -
A veritable fairyland!
No other country offers quite such
A spectacle of teeming masses that
continue to enrich the heritage of mankind,
Nowhere do the past and present
coexist in more colorful promiscuity -
An incomparable country,
Easy to love, hard to forget!
"There's only one India!" raved Mark Twain,
"A wonderland of fabulous wealth
and fabulous poverty, of splendor and rags ..."
"The cradle of the human race,
The birthplace of human speech,
The mother of history,
The grandmother of legend and
The great grandmother of tradition."
This, indeed, is my country
Where I was born -
An Indian at heart,
An American in spirit!
Namaste!
Khuda Hafiz, Jai Ramji Ki,
OM Radhe Shyam, Sat Sri Akal,
Jai Hind!!
~Love letters to the sub continent
contest by cyndi MacMillan
And when do these empty minutes
Become gifted tomorrows
Does the love from a crooked smile
Coagulate into a joyful tear
Can the touch from a veritable want
Blend into reformed breaths of a tilted gratitude
What purpose would ultimatums serve,
If it only knew what should not
Be taken for granted
When do these empty minutes
Become gifted tomorrows
For I count on the arms of postulated solitude
To breathe into me
To breathe into me
These empty minutes
©Drake J. Eszes
He is "half a bubble off of centre"
More than "A few bricks short of a load"
He is not a Prince worth kissing
He is more of an ugly toad.
Some think he is "Rock Solid"
A veritable "Mountain of a man"
Instead he's a snake Replacing a ladder
Nothing but a "flash in the pan"
You'll have to "hit the nail on the head"
For "he's not the sharpest tack in the box"
If you don't want this jerk to catch you
I recommend "pulling up your socks
If you think I was "born yesterday"
Or "I've got nothing to lose"
Instead of "Drinking the koolaide"
You musta been guzzlin the booze
For I am "the man of your dreams"
Look my way I'm "Love at first sight"
Forget that other "good for nuttin" fella
I'll "rock your world" "forever, a day and a night!"
Darkness stalked through the shadowed lands
only briefly glimpsed before vanishing.
It passed through valleys and ridges leaving
in its wake despair and torment and Blood soaked lands.
No friend of light, it kept to the dark paths
releasing disharmony and malcontent in its wake.
No respecter of life's beauty, its intent most malice
feeding on people's fears and greed, it gained in strength.
A veritable feast lay before it as it advanced
and used man's foibles to its personal gain.
Causing strife and friction was its delight
setting one against another chuckling with glee.
Yet, where there is darkness there is also light
and it is daily pushed back into the shadowed lands
from whence it came. Once again it is conquered
by both light and the spring of eternal hope.
Their passion so unchecked--
He dried her tears
Before the sorrows struck
V. Anderson-Throop 2015
We meander off the beaten path,
A veritable sally,
Admiring the flight of lively swallows
Above the green vast valley.
Puffy white clouds form and reform,
Methinks, one looks like a galley.
The twittering birds in perfect harmony,
Look like a rally.
Sheep graze here and there,
How lovely to be able to dilly dally.
We find some rest beneath a shady willow
And steal a kiss from my pretty Sally.
One Kiss? What a poor show,
Finally, I could not keep the tally.
Enchanted and happy,
We just meander back to our alley.
Behind the Veil of Friendship
Your friend, walks very slowly behind you.
Seeing the harm coming your way.
His sword out, he protects you back.
And you know nothing, you are not even
aware of the coming whacks!
You have innocent dreams, that people
really do like you.
He knows far better, how bitterly some do
despise your poetry, too.
While you dream of the goodness of man.
He goes sleepless, in your defense, doing
all that he can.
Nobody will listen to him, in their expensive
pajamas.
But then, they are soulless, possessing
no trained nashama.(soul)
Thank God, for a friend so abundantly blessed.
Who far surpasses any meagre, friendship test!
Both evil and good, exist in man’s veritable soul.
My friend, is one, so courageous, hardly a gross,
self-seeking, popularity mole!
12/5/2021
My Future Child
The truth is:
one cannot tell,
what dreams and nightmares,
the future will unveil.
Your life is foretold,
through a veritable plan;
where you get options,
planted in each hand.
Each choice unlocks,
another vast universe.
Inside there are challenges,
for you to traverse.
Future child of mine,
do not fear your mistakes.
Life never comes to us,
‘gifted’ on a silver plate.
You will learn and grow,
despite consequences.
Always have belief in you,
against the cost in raw expenses.
Keep love deeply,
locked within your heart.
This way when things fail,
you will never fall apart.
Maintain honesty and surely trust,
allowing any distractions,
in time to diminish to dust.
A child has the future,
in sight to seize.
This my child,
is the amazing gift,
I freely give,
to thee.
Copyright Elle Smith 2017
The first to comment
Uplifting my soul
Did anyone know
How difficult to share
My thoughts
My love
My deepest emotions
Did anyone care
As I laid my soul bare
Tentatively putting my poems out there
For all to see
For all to stare
My first time was scary
I was so unaware
if my poetry
could move
or even inspire
or was it just rubbish
to burn on the fire
Confidence restored
my poetry is now
completely diverse
a veritable smorgasbord
of joy
of sadness
of life thus far
and all because she commented
my friend
my superstar
From the Isle of Man
I’m her number one fan
She’s my sweetest friend
And her name is Jan
Written 21st September 2019
1st Place
Contest Name Pick a Friend on Soup
Sponsor Bobby May
Contest Strand Select K
Sponsor Brian Strand
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