Best Visor Poems
‘’twas all wild—All wind, All shores:
Seas were brewing savage storms;
Rambling clouds were moving thunder—
Thunder herself, did her chores…
With white, foaming, briny waters—
The fleet of men crossing them—
Howling Capes and crowing Bergs
That ever saw trespassing them,
Witnessed the lot being washed—
The visor of Mercy being cracked…
The howling, screaming, deathly Play
Waited the time Night approached
To aide—to rescue hacked and chopped
With farewell bid to the angered Day:
Time now when the Rivers—joining hands
(That had shrieked and showed their might)
No more chid the juvenile Bank—
Traveled course in faded light,
Whilst the strength of Fury lay
To tell Quiet of squandered Peace…
Still the creed:
That serves you salt not from tears,
That decorates you not with fakes,
That builds you castle not in the air,
Quenches your thirst not with mirage-
Buoyancy that keeps you afloat,
Oasis from which you forever fetch-
Love is still the creed.
Still the creed:
That gives you edge to triumph,
And buys you admiration far and near,
And stands by you in battle field
Provides you succour in distress,
Bliss like sleep,sleep like slumber;
Quoted price on paradise share-
Truth is the creed.
Still the creed:
Shield from worldly trauma
Visor against its deadly sword
Spring of honour and laurel;
Moon shines at work in the night,
Sun shines at work in the day,
Man shines by the work he does-
Work is still the creed.
Still they are the creeds:
Work,truth and love.
23rd Nov,2014.
Written October 19, 2023, For Shadow Hamilton, Wild Animal Contest
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I rule in pride, a lion, I am glorious and supreme,
I am the head of land, in my royal zest, sublime.
Oh, what a treat! The zoo gift of food has come,
A fantastic sight in a shiny metal basket scum!
A smorgasbord of goodies poised to be devoured.
By biting and eating, the taste is empowered.
A bonus and edible desserts are on our plates.
Every mouthful is a celebration of auspicious bait.
Monosodium glutamate improves the flavor.
On our plate are various entries, a culinary savor.
But it's not simply food that makes us delighted.
It's the company of my lioness, yelling yet, excited.
A magnificent feast is near her yellow gown.
Creme puff cuffs, optimal for shredding, are brown.
A baseball visor on her head, malice implanted.
Peach icing and a dip are tasty foods granted.
Today. Repost
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Meeting Andy Gibb: Today is His Birthday
Some moments in life we just
cannot totally recall,
Like rapid moving waters one sees
in a waterfall.
But meeting Andy, I will
cherish and remember.
His eyes, his smile, far more
than warm and tender.
I can't think of another soul,
so glowing, bright and beautiful.
Oh, how I want so to make a
picture,
Of this singer gone much too
soon!
His demeanor, so gloriously
blissful.
I was blessed enough to touch
his hand, and that
smile indeed, so loving.
I had no intention of giving
him a gift.
But I felt in that time-moment,
I was en route to heaven on
a starry chariot!
With no reason or rhyme,
my visor with sparkling,
Multi colored lights~ I
suddenly gave to Andy!
He was as pleased as punch.
Just before getting into his limo
for lunch,
He turned, smiled and spoke:
"Thank you Mate!.
On the Southern California beaches,
this sure will come in handy".
Today is Andy Gibb's birthday,
Bet you anything he's singing
away with a sparkling visor, on God's
holy moon.
By angels, serving him a large,
sumptuous buffet.
With his brothers, very close beside him.
Humming a tune.
In memory of Andy Gibb
With love from~
Panagiota
Reposted 3/20/2019
Some moments in life we just
cannot recall,
Like rapid moving waters one sees
in a waterfall.
But meeting Andy, I will
cherish and remember.
His eyes, his smile, far more
than warm and tender.
I can't think of another soul,
so glowing, bright and beautiful.
Oh, how I want so to make a
picture,
Of this singer gone much too
soon!
His demeanor, so gloriously
blissful.
I was blessed enough to touch
his hand, and that
smile indeed, so loving.
I had no intention of giving
him a gift.
But I felt in that time-moment,
I was en route to heaven on
a starry chariot!
With no reason or rhyme,
my visor with sparkling,
Multi colored lights~ I
suddenly gave to Andy!
He was as pleased as punch.
Just before getting into his limo
for lunch,
He turned, smiled and spoke:
"Thank you Mate!.
On the Southern California beaches,
this sure will come in handy".
Today is Andy Gibb's birthday,
Bet you anything he's singing
away with a sparkling visor, on God's
holy moon.
By angels, serving him a large,
sumptuous buffet.
With his brothers, very close beside him.
Humming a tune.
In memory of Andy Gibb
With love from~
Panagiota
3/5/2019
Lord, lead me not into temptation
Away you, I'm not sure, teach me not
This exercise in longing, I will forget
Your verse of homelessness, as your son
Illuminate the distance between me, and you
Forgive me, your garden trespassed, don't
Exile me out into forlorn space again
Heaven and satellites are your art
Here on my moon far from the sun, you
Lead me to that lonesome capsule, back
Where a stained spacesuit hides me, listen
To the hissing suit sweet-talking me, I go
Wearing that damned suit, pull down the visor
To cover my face from your rays, head
To my own sea of tranquility alone
On the dark side of the moon, far
From your reach, I’ll own my kingdom
From your moondust, build a sand castle of sin
On the rim of an unholy crater, I’ll declare
Independence from your colonial rule
I’ll put on this old suit of debauchery again
Until you strip your prodigal child, attempting
A break from orbit, telling me I have all I need
For a moonshot closing the distance
Deliver me from a solitary capsule, lifeless
On the cold lunar surface, temptation lives
Stay my evil hand that turns the airlock
Watch me float out the hatch from afar, hiss
Your gravity too heavy to bear, God, watch
Me bounce to the dark side of the moon
Though here comes the sun again, coax
Me a sinner unbaptized by midnight
Each revolution, you test my faith
Turn not distance to despair, rather
Instill the space between, patience
Turn not my freedom to anarchy, but
Faith in tethered orbits, closer
Turn not my soul into a cancer, hungry
Temptations eating a moon misled
Thy will be undone away from you
Footsteps heard from afar
Caught in the glimpse of
Strange shadows on walls,
the unknowable visor of
approaching men in uniform,
wedged in the unbroken frames
of those shadows;
Carrying their guns and arms,
They throw a basket of broken
Legs lost in the war, a dump yard
Of human remains
And there through the window
Struck by the very first sight
Are those pair of peeping eyes
That seek answers for all that is
Left and is yet to come,
They speak of all the pain
Felt in the anguish of the bygones,
A struggle to fight for
All that is fair and just,
To level the men of his ‘breed’
One amongst many born unequal
They see affected patterns of color,
The raunchy division of scattered
Privileges
In moments of solitariness, they
Look ahead into the future with a
Vision so pure;
a utopian ideal it seems
To many of his kind, unachievable yet
Worth fighting for, for years
Of unsolicited beatings, they
Only wish to see a world of
Equals, the world as a homogeneity of
Dark and blank pieces,
Men of ‘his breed’
Stand up to wrong all the
Blank pieces covered in shadows
By the ‘darkness’ of their own
Misdeeds,
So a world without
Fear would be created for once,
The end of a gruesome chapter
And the beginning of a liberal one
For competition 'subject- Mars', sponsored by Joe Maverick
As I sit with my bucket and spade
looking at the sand castle I've made
no rain comes from the sky
no black clouds passing by
well at least it won't biodegrade.
The wife lies close by she looks cute
sun lotion rubbed on her space suit
she's started to wail
that she can't do her nails
it takes two hours to take off her boots.
Since I bought one, two minutes have passed
but my ice cream is melting so fast
I should have been wiser
it's covered my visor
no wonder I'm getting harassed
Our kids over there have just called
they've been foolishly playing football
but the gravity's low
so how far did it go?
no chance of recovering it at all.
Well, this is one hell of a summer
as holiday's go, what a bummer
the wife won't rejoice
because this was her choice
so next year we'll go somewhere less dumber.
22 June, 2015
The Grand Old Dame sat at the table
with cream on the corner of her mouth
from a donut she ate as she sat in her chair
and a coffee she held in her shaking hand
A ribbon and pink visor donned her head
and a reddish hue sprinkled with white
was the color of her coiffured hair
reflecting from a ceiling light
from a diner in the urban night
At one time she was the elite
the meat
of notoriety of a certain group of society
where decisions were made
by a select few
Whom the masses never knew
that shaped the way the world would turn
The hand that shook once kissed by royalty
now wizened and palsied
picked up a crumb and stared at it
as if it were a gem
the jewels amassed as she recalled
in times of wealth
She placed the crumb in her mouth
and conjured up tastes when her palate was young
the delicate meats, the caviar
her suite in Paris
her gentleman friends
But all is gone now
Oh dear, she laments,oh dear
then she rises from the table and stands erect
befitting her character
and leaves the contents on the table
and the past behind
Ralph Sergi contest: NEW POETS OF SOUP 11/26/2013
CONFOUNDED ( COLLABORATION )
by~ S.Jagathsimhan Nair
When tension grips and the head reels
In its ever accelerated twirl
When two rays dangle from two flayed poles,
And the dumb loss of a moment’s truth
Looks so conspicuous and an eminently
Forgettable lapse of an inoffensive world
When the gentle genre to which the slamming
Of an ever open door in the face of
The rare perspicacity and purpose shown
By a soul, a land and a generation belongs
Looks so commonplace; when the benign
Visitor’s countenance does indeed despair
And crave a black visor above the originality
Of its expansiveness and the staggering degradation
Of its vitality; I have this great ache’s abundance
Stirring in my cupped palms, held out in supplication,
Till it rests, for an ever lasting understanding
Ever in the vision, ever into its aftermath.
by~ p.d.
The "aftermath" of any loss seems to consist in any form.
An aster plea subsiding every look.
Behind glory behind redemption~
Giving rest to the velocity speeding force
Creations of fantasy and religion and imagination
I paint the skies with my fingertips, to feel the mass
The world trembles at the knowledge of relativity.
"I sit in displeasure, injecting every generation into my veins!"
New born babies, born into this puzzled abyss.
Bewildered minds accepting stupendous addictions.
A poison to taste every sunrise,
Forbidden tongues baffle the night
Mental representation, stirring up conflict
Foiled toes to hold and worship.
Steady vision behind these eyes so confounded.
a collaboration with* S,Jagathsimhan Nair
my collaboration contest
“That girl’s going nowhere; she’s got socks to clean!”
The Black Knight did answer, he really was mean.
“If you’ve come here to get her I’ll give you a kick,
And knock you over with my big pointy stick!”
“So be it,” said Archie, “I’ll give you a chance,
To beat me on horseback, with sword or with lance!”
The Black Knight closed his visor and climbed on his horse,
A steed known as Twilight (he was black too of course!).
They rode at each other as fast as they could,
Both aiming their lances as all good knights should,
Sir Archibald’s lance hit the Black Knight square on,
He fell off his horse and our hero had won.
“Oh please do not hurt me!” the Black Knight did cry,
“I’ve grazed both my knees and got mud in my eye.
You can take the fair maiden. I’ll look after my health,
By not picking fights and doing housework myself!”
The girl was so happy her eyes filled with tears,
She had been locked in that tower for years and years.
She’d been there for so long her beautiful hair,
Had grown longer and longer, it lay everywhere.
The poor maiden cried, “I may have to stay,
I cannot escape here. My hair’s in the way!”
“Don’t worry my dear; I’ve got something for that!”
And he scooped it all up in a big purple hat.
And so ends our tale, just as it should be,
With hero and maiden both safe and happy,
And the evil Black Knight, whom we mustn’t forget,
Is now whiter than white, and owns a laundrette.
Old man, blank faced, gray, balding, bent back,
suspenders holding up loose pants, a half filled
plastic grocery bag hanging from one hand, a
wooden cane companion in the other, limps his
way slowly from the grocery store out to the
parking lot …towards his parked car.
People rushing, back and forth from cars to
store pushing filled and empty carts, using cell
phones, talking, gesturing, texting, hurrying past
him with abandon .
Another balding old man about the same age,
bulging middle, red faced, huffing, crooked visor cap,
chrome cane in hand, head bent low, limps along
slowly from… his car to the store.
People rushing back and forth from cars to store
pushing filled and empty carts using cell phones,
talking, gesturing, texting, hurrying past him with
abandon,
When both men reach a crossing point in their
opposing paths, they stop in mid step, slowly look
up and give each other the once over. As if on cue
they look around themselves at this parking lot full
of hustling, busy actors going about their important
affairs in so much of a hurry. .then turn and look back
into each other’s faces..…
One breaks into a smile that begins to brighten
his weathered face and then the other gent breaks
into a smile of his own to share. From within their
aging shells both spirits break out with child like,
hearty laughter while shaking their heads. They
continue on their journey limping away from each
other without a word, the smiles still embedded in
their brightened faces.
I too find myself smiling as I watch the scene
from my open car window while eating my lunch
as people are rushing back and forth from cars to
store pushing filled and empty carts, using cell
phones, talking, gesturing, texting, hurrying past
with abandon.
It’s time. I have to make a call
and hurry back to work now….
Confounded
-1-
When tension grips and the head reels
In its ever accelerated twirl
When two rays dangle from two flayed poles,
And the dumb loss of a moment’s truth
Looks so conspicuous and an eminently
Forgettable lapse of an inoffensive world
When the gentle genre to which the slamming
Of an ever open door in the face of
The rare perspicacity and purpose shown
By a soul, a land and a generation belongs
Looks so commonplace; when the benign
Visitor’s countenance does indeed despair
And crave a black visor above the originality
Of its expansiveness and the staggering degradation
Of its vitality; I have this great ache’s abundance
Stirring in my cupped palms, held out in supplication,
Till it rests, for an ever lasting understanding
Ever in the vision, ever into its aftermath.
-2-
And when an hour’s trial and a moment’s judgement
Bide time in the halls of eternity
I get this call upon me to my concept’s elucidation
And this urge to its sound espousal
But in a brief and breathless pass upon a syllable
When I catch the trail left of a wayward home coming
I find eunuchs elucidating emancipation’s final flowering
In its lone path of glory.
And for once I lose my heart, I lose my sensibilities
The stupendous reversal of a progression of faith
Finally does catch up with me
Annulling this reckless gambler’s momentary wins
But who is now going to pay up its hefty price
And take home the horrid truth.
By: S.Jagathsimhan Nair
17 May 12
For: Elliott Bowe's" Drunken pen"
I race around this track
To make the fastest lap
In powered muscle cars
You bet, I’m driving that
Wearing a fibre glassed rig
And a white cat suit
You can call me the stig
The fastest thing on route
You’ve never seen my face
It’s covered that's a shame
I’m always in disguise
My black tinted visor hides
The thrill upon my face
My big blue sparkling eyes
Full of this excitement
The element of surprize
Its super cars and silly stuff
Fast and furious driving tuff
I’m the stig and I’m in my mig
And I’ll snap your time like a twig
I think you’ve seen my show
The stars that come and go
Competing with each other
Round the track they must flow
To set a perfect time
Beat their rivals cross the line
To test their driving skills and
Do their best behind the wheels
Burning rubber at the start
Oh' my heart pounding fast
This adrenalin rushing through
I’m the stig, I’m super cool
Wheels spinning from the line
Tyres’ smoking, it’s a crime
Drifting around these corners
Sliding like skies on waters
Its super cars and silly stuff
Adventurous fun, sometimes tough
I love a challenge, don’t call my bluff
Cuz’ I’m the stig and I do my stuff
I've made a name for myself
Topgear, Topman
In Warsaw Poland do I stand
And yes I'm very well renown
Thirty foot high from the ground
I'm dressed up all in white
With my crash helmet on
I'm just out of sight
©Copyright KC.Leake
25th November 2014
All Rights Reserved
~*~
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" this disguise is my final revenge for myself ... "
Mimicry of visage
Authentic effigy?
Superb tangible facade?
Kaleidoscope icon ?
Contrived through lofty scrupulous gilt scraps of aesthetic means
Overlaid with fragments of embellishments given birth by fervency
Nestled wholly with comely stokes and chromes depicting secrecy
Camouflaged behind this handmade MASK
Every single " skeleton in the cupboard " still the same - incognito
Ample emotions,heartstrings - not converted...not seen by the eyes
Living - existing in this alluring visor
Secret - this is my " FALSE FACE ", my revenge ... my FINAL ace ~~~
Mimicry of my own image
Entity discrepant from my genuine ME...
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