Best Visibly Poems
A diamond in the Frost ... I am Emily, gazing through the years,
Like Poe from rancid taste and dark smoke shadows
Florescent waste escaping a decrepit yet dulcet wilderness
Backward capabilities frontal verse, I am her the almighty universe
Ascending from yesterday's fall, literally and visibly
Swore to be everything you loathe most - a felicity of illusions
You will dream of me, a parasite you can't get rid of
Ripped open by paper and pen, rising to a new destination
A Destroyer begging to be free in search of a tender rhapsody
Blind by mediocre poets who tend a false nebulous star
No longer, will I impart into defeat - give in to trophy trust
The time of age, my allies whom I call my friends
You are more than words on any God-Given-Day
To those unworthy of me, can march away from my parade
Crying wolves, backstabbing clones, long gone stones
Each file is forgiven & forgotten, however, still trespassing
Under a microscope, some remain to be a decade of lost words
Grazing a forest-grown for old news dripping water on my belly
No matter, after starvation, I found my way back to the same horizon
Finding time and space among a new docile nation
A buried treasure finding face among a fresh myriad generation
With anchors up, I'm headed full force, against every secret endorsed
I am the one you should not fear, I relish this wonderful community
I am she mounted above all years worn rising like a newborn sword
Forged by the earth summon by the pirate's moon political creed
Ascending to a sweet ascension with the best kind of immunity
With paper and pen, I sit to please and prosper my poetry need
To you I leave --- Echoes of snow, numbing you with a poetic soul
Love The Poet Destroyer
Seeing my Daddy in black and white moves my emotional colors
into a vibrant rainbow that was Daddy made decades ago.
Only twenty-seven in the photo, Dad's patience had yet to grow.
Daddy loved us
My brother and I thought him old and always right with Dad powers.
He was actually quite young with wife, career and two small tykes.
Despite my flashbulb-face, I could easily visit the photograph for hours.
I know it is from Fort Lee, Virginia, and my tights have likely slid down.
I love seeing Dad's arms around us while we are leaning on his knee.
I love seeing us pressed against his chest and our heads leaning close.
Daddy loved us
Looking at the photograph, I can completely sense him, even his skin.
My brother is four and years away from bipolar, he is still a happy boy.
I am newly three and except for tights, nothing has ever bothered me.
In this photo Daddy is visibly near, not gone as called back to heaven.
This photo wilts my composure for I dearly wish he had lived to be older.
As a retired Army officer, at sixty-seven, Agent Orange finally caught him.
Daddy loved us
What does a soul look like
Is it shaped like a love heart
Or white and fluffy like a cloud
Maybe a work of art
Or just invisible goodness
That runs through our veins
Perhaps millions of little sparkles
Floating in our brains
We all possess a soul
Yet never visibly viewed
Deep within our being
Creating me , creating you!
As sun smiled a last few moments
on our warm, trembling rock,
and I sat behind you in the breeze,
your skin visibly welcomed
touch of sunset, touch of air
and touch of worshipful hands.
I'd have ravished you there
but for the uncertainty of the day.
Your breasts grew urgent
under my audacious touch,
and your skin threatened
to burst into a myriad rays
of warmly chilled daylight.
I was not quite sure
whether your luxurious flesh
surrendered to the touch
of that flirtatious summer breeze
or surrendered to the touch
of my infatuated hands.
It satisfied me then, there,
to think that it might be both.
30th June 2020
The poet Marshall Mathers
whilst "Cleaning Out My Closet"
blasted with inquiry-
"Have you ever been hated on or discriminated against?
I have...''
Interesting enough
in these crooked times
it is impossible to make a man like you,
or your art,
especially with unbounding determination.
Nevertheless,
It sure is mighty easy to attain their hatred,
through no fault of your own.
When they protest or demonstrate against you...
finally you have arrived!
That's powerful!
Common sense says,
"Never drive in the rear view mirror!"
Though, it sure is helpful to take a quick glance back
periodically
to check out Jealousy,
back there
doubting and shouting and eating your dust!
Take a whiff...
Listen...
AHHHH....
The band begins to play ferociously!
Off-key.
Off-color.
Slander Slogans pasted upon your face.
Furthermore,
Suddenly,
Systematically...
like roaches with lights bright,
they disappear into the night,
back to the slums;
begging for crumbs.
Once you've been Blacklisted;
Swallow.
Digest the miracle.
Pure, glowing gold
the alchemy of their anger,
visibly discernable from the glossy pyrite
appearing with fake praise.
Heed the old adage:
---------------Keep yir' friends close, and enemies closer.
Their futile harm repels from the Teflon donning your heart.
Envy
burns bold, boils,
melts and cools, then cold,
forging the sword.
Adding to your arsenal.
Stumble not
upon bone fragments,
brittle blacklist bandits...
the Catacombs of those
who aimed to defame your name,
staking claim for their
shameless sea of debris
and Rotten Forgottens
which only bolster your begotten flame.
Remain steadfast, undaunted
TROUNCE THOSE TREACHEROUS TROUBLES;
________________________ TO ________________________
MARCH THROUGH THE RIGOROUS RUBBLE!
*Heads High,
Let me see those eloquent eyes!~JsL
~Inspired by written words of Marshall Mathers, Cleaning Out My Closet,
Shady Records~
They laugh under their sleeves,
as they destroy you,
trumpling you on the ground
like dirt. They laugh visibly
because they think
it doesn't make a difference
if you know their schemes
or not,
for your life is in the balance.
They scorn you
when it starts raining;
the dirt on your clothes
and skin turn to mud.
"The gods have forsaken you!"
they shout.
Little do they know the rains
are fuelling your inner spark,
that has always been with you.
Slowly rise
like a phoenix from the ashes,
as the rains clean your
body and clothes.
The rains turn the ground
to a flood. You levitate.
They drown,
as they look at you with shameful
eyes.
You laugh last.
“Ole Brownie”
The meanest and the best,
Proven among the rest,
My dog in Arkansas, pope county,
I present, ole Brownie,
With first cold front,
Arkansans begin the hunt,
Razorback hogs,
with their dogs,
Now my dog Brownie,
Meanest hog dog in pope county,
A sight to see,
Even growls at me,
A heinz fifty seven,
Comes number seven of the eleven,
Impossible to see,
His pedigree,
Though no pedigree,
Visibly plain to see,
He was the dog for me,
By my shout of glee,
When he was given to me,
He was a handsome dog,
Though he loved to hog,
Part red bone hound,
Mixed with feist clown,
Would fight anything around,
Twas very plain he wasn’t a coward,
With teeth bared,
Who’s hoss or boss,
At any cost,
Often declared,
When disputes were aired,
Ain’t no fibbing,
Ears torn to ribbons,
His ears` he had sacrifices,
To his scrapping vice,
Anyhow, to finish my story,
Bout my dog of glory, ©.( “Razorback Hog Hunt”)
9-27-09 johnmosesfreeman@yahoo.com
Fingers toy with my nearly worn out bank card.
Not too confident, I hold onto my nerves, hard.
Ahead, petty items in her trolley hold me slowed.
The cashier stops, lengthily examining a bar code.
I glance around at the growing queue, blindly.
I bump into him, behind me, and I apologize kindly.
I let him precede me, my morals climbing high.
He hesitates with three items, as if not sure which to buy.
I tend him a basket which he aloofly ignores.
Disconcerted, my eyes divert to the store's doors.
The cashier waits for the cash, visibly well trained.
He fishes in a pocket then empties another, unrestrained.
Some coins roll and find the cashier’s impatient fingers.
But she waits with smile fixed as he lingers.
At last he finds his notes, all bundled.
His shaking hands proudly tug one crumbled.
He peers at it and slowly returns it back to place.
Another he places, unsure, in hand tended with grace.
Suddenly he pulls it back, deciding it was not the right one!
Now this, he checks carefully; it is a larger one.
He gave it away, not looking very happy.
The cashier’s patience is waning, visibly.
But she amounts the cash and helps him as he packs.
Then he gets annoyed as his long bread roll cracks.
He halts and decides to break it into three; it goes into the bag.
The cashier turns with a bright smile to a queue in lag!
One flower almost gray
but visibly not
Brushed by a breeze on
concrete wet
Emerged from a crevasse
along the corner
Forced to hold on to its
limited yellow
Open to suggestion
More than several
shapes take hold
On a distant wall of
wind emerged tornadoes
Spun in favor of the
days rotation
Coming in from the west
At a 90 degree
declination
Turns to be determined
left or right
Angles perpendicular to
the east
The eye wall wobbling
uncertain to reason
As gray turns to black
Rises with barometric
pressure
Collapsed on the
moments fragile flight
Palm trees hang
suspended, then animate
Fall like paragraphs
pinned down by wind
News wires bent on
facts lean in to learn
There to understand it
Hurricane begins,
uproots humanity
Removes them like tooth
decay
Electric lines freak
out, burn on orange red desires
Dangle in the wind in
pain without a smile
Touch puddles as
children walk by
Inclement weather does
strange things
Impacts
the storm track still intact
Leaves nothing behind
or to the imagination
Including its name
which is forgotten
Roads clear and are not
there
Traffic, trees,
people... Poof!..all gone
Storm warnings move on,
hunger for warmth
Looking for a tropical
paradise to wrong
My heart-beat drums of love and charm.
O' hear the voice of love that sings a sweet song.
Listen to the songbird's *dulcet serenade and dawning alarm,
and reply, oh lovebird, with a lovesick *tongue.
Liberate thy spirit of love my dear *marm,
and respond! respond! yes respond with a passion so strong.
Release a seductive hymn to embrace my heart with its fiery melodic arm
so an overwhelming fervor follows along.
Oh! incinerate the shell of my heart 'til my soul be visibly nude and disarm',
thus revealing the *candescent embodiment of sensations which lives among.
Certainly, I want to be caress and loved by Love's delicious swarm.
So, Queen of hearts, bombard the core of my soul 'til it be in awe!-- experience I long.
*dulcet--(esp. of sound) sweet and soothing
*tongue--refers to speech
*marm--variation of madam
*candescent--glowing red-hot
(Poem for John Heck contest)
Deeply motivated
Highly concentrated
Emotionally elated
By your love...
Im complicated
Extremly frustrated
Sometimes un-cooperative
By your love...
Passionetly persuaded
Often intimidated
Internally fixated
By your love...
Verbally Stimulated
Visually captivated
Unconditionally infatuated
By your love...
Would be...
Completly aggravated
Visibly violated
Undeniably devistated
Without your love!!!:(
I hope you're happy with everything you've achieved.
How does it feel to know you absolutely destroyed someone?
How does it feel knowing you tore down everything she worked so hard to build?
Does it make you happy, knowing she looks in the mirror and questions why someone was so determined to ruin her?
Does it thrill you to the core that you're the one that broke her? Not just her heart, but her body and mind.
Do you find joy in the fact that you stole hers?
When you moved, she flinched, unsure of whether you would be kind or cruel.
When you spoke, she closed her eyes, knowing your words would cloud her eyes.
When you hurled insults at her, she visibly shook, wondering when the verbal hurt would become physical.
Your voice became toxic to her body.
She broke herself trying to please you.
She was never pretty enough, she was never right.
She never listened, she never did a thing for you.
You poisoned her view of herself and you made her believe she will never be good enough.
God, I hope you're happy.
I hope you're happy and free.
Because she's broken and weak.
And it's all because of you.
This poem is a re-post from last year for the situation is worsening daily.
ELEPHANT’S GHOST
I am represented as a trinket on a
Human's wrist.
I was bought from a vendor,
Sometime last September,
I remember the vendor, he was,
Approached by a man in the street,
This man had stepped out of the shadows,
The vendor to meet.
The man from the shadows
Met with two other men
Their march sounded like military feet.
Money was exchanged, someone
Pointed to a truck down a lonely street,
The poachers knew
This deserted, but well known beat,
In the truck were the tusks of us all,
These despicable people had,
Gunned us down, and one by one,
Including me we met our fall.
Our tusks were hacked out,
Some of us not quite dead no doubt!
But I haven’t lost hope,
It isn’t too late,
To stop our bloody, grizzly fate,
Because a trinket made from part of me,
Means that humans can visibly see,
And then ask, for goodness sake,
Can we not try and end this heartache,
This horrible butchery,
With which we can all agree,
That, trinkets made from the tusks of
An elephant like me, never ever be sold,
And become the past, a history,
That will then only be told,
As a fairy story about wicked men
Who killed elephants in scores of ten.
Elephant proudly is my name,
Please stop this greedy killing game,
I chose to have my ghostly say,
And look forward to the day,
When elephant trinkets no more be made,
And for them be paid
In a sleazy vendors store,
Behind drawn curtains and a greasy floor.
I now can rest,
And feel blessed,
I appeal to all who hear,
For I’ve whispered in your ear,
Please be my mouth piece,
Try and make this madness cease,
Let us in unison say,
Poachers go away!
i prefer to remember you like this
there was a time when this space was meant only for us
now we created a hole that allowed grief and stress
we are now shades of our former selves living in oblivion within ourselves
i am on a roller coaster ride as i stare endlessly out of the window
the bends reminds me of the nausea of our never ending changes
what i would not give for a sweet dose of organic glory right now
that is what it felt like when we first met
somewhere between fantasy and black paradise, reality and truth tapped us on the shoulder
what died is our merged recognition of reason and our emboldening of The Reason
i guess that is why i turn to isolation as my visibly invisible mistress
in the center of walking the floor over you, i prefer to remember you like this
Though we look out about yonder
in the sky, there is no sunshine
but what's not visible is still there
reveals its effect so we can dine
There is such heat to experience
so much is there for surely everyone
if people would just believe this is so
to receive such heat then its done
Everyone is so visibly transfixed
thinks if not seen it cannot be
but these sun effects can be so felt
even when not seen, still you are free
The whole day is completely done
but looking back you feel real hope
on the horizon one senses truth
there you cling to that sure rope
Learn to never ever give up hope
tomorrow could be your expected day
remember that invisible sun up there
by faith look on to find your way
The verse from 'The Invisible Sun'
("There has to be an invisible sun
It gives its heat to everyone
There has to be an invisible sun
That gives us hope when the whole day's done.")
- Gordon Sumner (Sting - The Police)