Best Vestibules Poems
Good Sense Of Humour Blunts The Sharp Blades Of Reality Poetry
Contest //Sponsored by: Natasha L. Scragg
Contest Judged: 8/30/2025 4:27:00 AM
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 5, 2025
When life threw me a curveball,
I stumbled—then chuckled mid-fall.
Lumped knees, not pride, I wore like bent,
because sneering is something I've seen.
In chemo rooms and vestibules,
I frenzied dry jokes on aseptic walls.
Doctors simpered, nurses would beam—
a punch-line where the fear had been.
When agony thumped hard and sleep grew thin,
I let the silly light writhe in.
A meme, a whirl , a silly song—
made aching days feel less so long.
No, humour incurable or patch,
But it's the ally, not made to part.
It doesn't silence, hurt or truth,
but let me smirk with my aching tooth.
So here's my laugh, though life gushes beneath,
it's how I rise, not how I lament!
Wearing her zippered jumpsuit of lime
My queen loves to survey the valley's field.
She dreams of finding a perfect place and time
She can make her dream city something real.
Megiddo was an ancient and famous city
Where starting at Solomon's gate then entering in,
Delight, pleasance and joy showed no pity,
And t'was no comfort not to be found within.
This proud city of great power and zeal--
The glory of some rare ancient engineer--
Has seen dust fly from many a chariot wheel,
When victorious kings came to holiday here.
Perhaps ancient Israel's most splendid city,
It soon captured every kingdoms' eye.
A diadem of the Jezreel Valley so pretty,
It invoked the kiss of the Assyrian sky.
Surrounded by its high double-thick stone walls,
Megiddo’s palaces did lavishly and amply abide,
Containing their ornamentally furnished halls,
With towers, storehouses, and courtyards alongside.
And then there are temples—believed to be three,
With vestibules for believers to enter in.
Then of course the altar for only the holy to see,
Where doctrines are given a positive spin.
Where’er perfect foundation might lay,
My queen shall find a delightful field.
And there to be in full domain and array,
The promise of Eden most
empyreal.
AUDIO VISUAL
What is a fight without a cause?
Is it just a hidden affair that has no voice?
Only knowledge that cannot be divulged and when discussed, the topic is irrelevant.
Mentality is a place of iniquity.
Mediums are designed by civil engineers to place mentally captured vestibules; those,
which will manifest identities.
You can hear their mundaneness in their conversation.
You do not want to speak to a naked wall.
As a result, they enter your vocal environment.
For that reason, you speak out.
___________________________________|
penned on october 24, 2014!
St. Padre Pio
Through emmense silence amidst the swell of violence
Take Good care of those he loves;
In certain strange ways in curiosity
With human love one can learn to equate
Yet for Padre Pio's case;
He had found a love out of a devine source;
In closed minded attributes some err' to escape/
A game in life can't ever be repeated;
A glaciar peak or some coliseum ever heavy seated
When words are not enough expressed
St. Padre Pio knew what mattered best
In solace he rested like most;
Like a lost seagull flying ever higher off the coast
Chosen vestibules in columns of gold then rolled
St. Padre Pio believed the love of God is inseparable from suffering
The suffering of all things for the sake of God was the way to the soul
His entire appearance looked altered
Through the agony his exposed body felt incapable of living
Suddenly an urge of silence then a stated state of forgiveness
Padre Pio knew the way to live by which to forgive/
With delicate lines being drawn in the sand
Hopefully someday all will understand?
A page has been turned another bridge not to be burned,
To dream amidst the common swell
Barbed wire fences & ancient glow
Shaded scrolls & parchment beds
In delicate images throughout his head
To treasure a red rose that had been plucked a time ago
In certain corridors aware of his presence an offering
Within light of daybreak a swallow would often fly overhead
Shadows bent while shelter lies dormant onto its beckoning call
A pull at the heart will light a spark in time
To greet the great Padre Pio
A.W. Nutter
To many voices inside my head
Each one vying for recognition
Toward insanity I’m being led
Normality forced into remission
A child screams out in his agony
Suffering at the hands of the beast
Innocence destroyed aggressively
Lamb, the main course at the feast
An angry teen searching for love
Finds a young girl full of empathy
Their child is taken by God above
The teen screams out in his agony
Trying to survive a politicians war
As I look at my hands so bloody
Friends dying, demanding more
As my spirit screams out in agony
My time in hell I can easily trace
Life's journey has never been kind
Past memories wishing to embrace
The final vestibules of my mind
The love of my life is my buoy
Guiding me away from the pain
Keeping me anchored in reality
The demons efforts made in vain
Before it’s too late
Distant bells clatter on cloud fed weathered skies where
darkness creeps past low light vestibules, faded beams flicker
Short skirts wave in a winter wind, breezy attributes
revealing fishnet thighs calling to the next hidden passenger,
batting lashes and blowing bubbles of stale gum placed under
crushed velvet seats worn in places, stained deliberately
for bragging rights and handkerchief blotting
A ghostly mist lingers as lips are touched up, bright red, crimson,
shades of desire, occupational decisions, advertisements leaking
into sewers and hopscotch squares spread along the avenue
Silhouettes in porch lanterns, whistling…so unladylike, ducking
constables with nightsticks swinging like the clapper in those damn bells
waking the unsuspecting and spooking the transients offering
a few coins for a ten dollar dream
Swine wallows in last week’s gossip, slimy little beings
fat on sausage and biscuits, cursing the rats pushing their way in
below curtains and kitchen windows framing inquisitive eyes,
watching cash change hands and satisfied smirks
on the faces of those wiping feet on mats,
greeting the family in disguise, shirt un-tucked,
long day rewards and dinner on the table
Yesterday’s newspaper tumbles down the walk,
clinging to sign posts, featuring headlines of death, a warning in bold print,
still at large, a menace to society in a grey overcoat,
double breasted and fancy shoeprints in the fresh mud
No further traces except the body, contorted and frozen, smeared faces
littering cobblestone gutters, frightening children and pets,
as passersby look to second floor balconies, oblivious
Midnight calls, staggering drunkards exit Chauncey’s,
hard up and spent, slurred laughter, boisterous to hide worries
and tomorrow’s jobs, time clock lies and penciled in wishes
Iron fence posts rust at the gateway as they glance to the headstones
of friends long past and recent memories, sensing the urge,
seeing the painted nails and low cut blouses, thinking…
before it’s too late
While from a secluded archway…
Wakeful dispensations....
Traveling down reproaches weaving road at the speed of mono sound!?
Disintegrations decay within the rearview mirrors fiery blow-by-blows
Smoke and debris transformations strewn about whirlwind trails of sins
Destructive tales to form this phenomenon through, vestibules cryptic....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....Crucible amid, assimilations abstract theory?!
A Valiant Knight
Death springs a new day basking in the breeze
In solemn moments lets pause to think of a place
A far off castle in the mountains away from it all
A valiant knight lived in the structure of it's dwelling
Those days of old where mere men had a noble demise
A beautiful maiden was in waiting for her knight
He would often fight for the cause of stregnth and dignity
The draw bridge where the castle stood had a very unique aura
A mystery of sort sought up in the vast array of crowned nobility
For the king on his thrown was humble yet greedy
Always would take care of himself caring nothing for the needy
A valiant knight was concerned about the kings trust
Often they would disagree on who it was to serve
A joker came in front of the king one day with a magic wand
Waving the wand in the air then there floated ivy everywhere
For the court jester was a fool in the making of his legacy
The maiden would often come forth and see
For she treasured a red rose that was plucked sometime before
Cherished the calling of her stature to the glory of the throne
A valiant knight would often sing sweet songs in the night
Had a following of village people that would sit before his feet
Having a way of words that he would often share
The castle was filled with dragons and warlocks searching for love
A cause to be brave amidst uncertainty of the kingdom
The legacy of golden capulets filled ardent vestibules
Let us toast to the valiant knight who keeps a watch on all that is good
A tattered Calico traverses the crumbling corridor
dissecting a row of dilapidated sacred structures,
each uniquely indistinguishable from the next.
The wind carries an eerie refrain
as it whistles through the splintered stones,
white-washed to harbor their degeneration.
There's a fragrant stench of wilted petals
lying dormant in stagnant waste.
This potpourri of nature's compost
resonates from the marred receptacles
lining this mourning path.
Picket shadows serve no comfort
from the unbearable fervor
as it bakes these palaces of the deceased.
Irreverent voyagers marvel at its spectacle,
congregating within the blighted vestibules,
ignoring the pleas of sacrilege,
all to capture images for their own posterity.
Exit this city of the dead,
allow the mourners their serenity due.
Bestow the departed their wanted peace
and leave them to their gentle rest.
It's Not Easy When The Road Is Your Driver
To want you to hold you to need you
We look for love in all the wrong places
Certain vestibules will leave a trace in
A challenge to be free is a question of time
With my shortness of breath makes me step in line
Shadows break through the piercing skin
A new day in which to begin again
A flood of emotions from my tavels on the road
The turning of a tide onto a new episode
The moments we used to share having so much fun
We look for cover now while were out on the run
I remember the touch of your hand & sweet romance
The soft music with a long drawn out bubble bath
We see a slight vision from the mirror at a glance
A love letter that was sent to your door lest I implore
It's not easy when the road is your driver
One hand to hold a heart will mend
A glance at the past will tell us of our future
Sweet kisses with perfume in the air
We dined in the comfort of a loving touch in the atmosphere
You were a stranger so long ago yet not anymore
Imploding organs whistle smaller that the day of crimes
That time recorded
PRISON RAT –
Reflect a moving shade.
Chimneys melt like wax imagined moonlight rooves
CRACK THE SKY –
Emulsion’s vestibules!
The theme dissolves a strip of light I lick
And trim the flights of high electric bulbs –
The word an insane caption each man traps:
Release one prisoner per line!
In words the choosing starts to loose
What rubbish I have hidden:
I am the pauses
In the yellow silken dust
Not sinking not swimming
Alive in the light
To my ears to my eyes
To my hands to my mind:
SIX MILLION TONS OF LOVE
Sperm a feast
While men who walk in circles through the stars
Blow passion
A bottle high upon the shelf
The bouncing summit floods inspire
The hanging man to take the moment
To the glass
AND NEVER TURN THE BACK
Through the heavy hand of solemn quest
Chosen vestibules in relentless jest
Onto the corporate head through exploits support
Just a question of fools spoiling all the rules
Phat cats with blue hats in silver snaps
Chaps
Power of manipulation trying to reach the top
Power of tolerance equated through a clogged filter
Power in the people chords are broken by its timeless shelter
All is a will for power even now before the throne
Absolute
Power to direct others yet can't themselves
Perhaps its best if I put that book right back on its shelf
Power of negotiations borrowed papal pew in sullen masturbation
Power if discourse measured through elapsed fervor in disguise
Power in coompromise to see through all lies
Power to be heard in silence not ever saying a single word
Power to control others & torn,
Whimsical power built on its fabricated quest
Power of persuasion when one is being put through a fiery test
Power is the lie that we all seek
Sin is a leech as in its midnight creep
We are each given free will yet power is never free/
Sullen fabrication to its frame,
Let me be the first to explain,
A slave is set free in time based in history/
Skull bones in fragments puzzle chart incomplete
Power is not for the weak,
Tempted further in fallen honesty
Provoked with tears after so many years
A poet scorned for further curse the actual day they were born
In a heart filled with pride the Apollos died
Shake the leaves from her hair my pretty child choose the day/
The night is far spent in casual waste
Vanity is then mixed with the make believe;
Folly
In fallen exploits amidst the dream,
Scattered garland in planted bulb
Sullen pride amidst the shrub
We rob the one who will forever take....
Power,
Maybe, it's just best to settle for a cold shower ?
I know that I should not have looked
My eyes collect the movements
that do frighten to the core
I know that I should not have looked
I’m curious all the more
For there behind the thicket
where the beasties come to play
Lurking in the underbrush
and thorny mass decay
Drooling on the pathway
when the blood begins to seep
Eating pieces of your heart,
the fears they long to reap
Carving out a warning
in the dark archaic stone
Arches built of victim’s
empty vestibules of bone
Gathered neath the shadows
falling bleak the universe
Twisted, barely visible
the message fills the curse
Dare not seek what leads the eyes,
upon this sanctuary tread
None shall live to hear the cries,
echoes fall among the dead
Follow forth another way
lest death become your wandered path
Turn about this end of day
or face the heartless aftermath
There behind the thicket
where the beasties come to play
It’s best this evening to beware
and look the other way
For the I should not have looked Poetry contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose
5/31/17
Aura Star
beneath the rubble throughout
tumble thimble want to bee
sought through of curtain wanna be
circle through the defiance years to see
pudding in the cup just wait and see
there look at parting vestibules in there distance
I exist as a vapor then I am no more
yesterday is a given day today we seek not be this way
chosen in the vast amber to the knowledge we need to gain
labor in the sun have a bit of fun...,
chose the distance begin to run
Aura star take you very far
the horse will explain,
such as the Willow tree
distant to believe
parting of the leaves
in every source to believe
shake dreams from your hair.my innocent one
chose the day to have a bit of fun
Aura Star...
ice with snow feelings swept you ought to know
today I stand as a merchant swept in the Tumble Bee
chase past the trees quest to believe
look to the beauty one last time
arm be with harmony given one last time
The Dark Forest
out near the dew on the ground frozen cud
deep darkened worms with maggot infested insides
the forest was hidden from the actual view from the stream
one step we took until we reached the entrance to this vast domain
green cloven briars on the sidelines permeates the brevity inside
rocks of scructured hallow cloven parchment
one step at a time we would climb in its dwelling
perhaps this is the place where Indians tread
dark ellusive columns of grand vestibules to discover
was it any wonder the sun radiated on its sphere
at last a wooden sctructure could it be a sign
the place where little fairy's & hobbits used to frequent
as I came closer to the dwelling there was an opening
but only scratched the surface of what lieth beneath
smoke had started to come forth from below
perhaps this was a doorway to Hell
there it was a lively dragon with scorching flames through its habitation
a dark figure approached me I wanted to run
but the voice insisted that I stay & pray
so I neglected to turn around and leave
with emmemse sadness there was new gladness
for the figure was an angel sent down from heaven
I glanced at the dragon who was now snearing in my direction
in a flash it was all gone & left me inside with a song
within my heart there beats a hidden melody
living in the forest of the land of make believe