Best Wearer Poems
So sensationally super; Sagittarius son of John Spence
Pleasantly personable, and matriarch Maud Spence’s son
Enabling, exquisite, eloquent, evolving and enterprising
Naturally nice, no nonsense, and a nutritionist nobleman
Carrot consumer, constant comrade and cold-war veteran
Equitably enlightened, and just an elegant eggnog taster
Jumping Jupiter, a jubilant sundae lover, and just a jewel
Oppresso de liber, optimistically captivating; oratorical
Saintly passionate, succulent salmon sampler; sweetheart!
Exquisitely enchanting, enchantingly amatorious; éclat!
Playful, painstakingly passionate, pajama wearer, patient
Handsomely helpful handyman, harmonizer of happiness
Sweet as syrup, shining armor off the shelf; savoir-faire!
Red-blooded poetry connoisseur and radioactively lovable!
~~~~~~~~~~~***********~~~~~~~~~~~
Won Seventh Place Position
"Tell Me About You Contest"
June 16, 2010
Sponsored by Amy Green
~~~~~~~~~~~***********~~~~~~~~~~~
We know knitters knit wool from skeins,
and when wet, us the wearer complains,
for our pullovers shrink,
and so this made me think,
why don't sheep ever shrink when it rains?
Who is that brave and noble one I have heard so much about? I saw you standing right next to him in a newspaper report about him. Do you know his agenda, his intentions, and his mission? Where is he, from where did he ascend, and to where is he going? I have heard that he fears neither man nor beast, but has great respect for 'Laws'. Clouds of doom, fear, and gloom hang over our world. So take me to your leader.
I sense that the quest for unity of the 'citizens of the world' is abolishing 'Soveignties'. May our prayers ascend to heaven and may God free us from so many inequities, boiling pots of greed, overflowing pools of political corruption, debaucheries that permeate the atmosphere, and human behavior that's becoming too toxic for habitation. One sign of a good man is that he views constitutions and laws as instruments of sacredness. Evil men loathe laws, and perceiving them as restrictive, change or abolish them at will. I would be so honored to meet and dine with a good man or woman.
So please take me to your leader.
There is so much I need to know about him. So I hope that you have not been sworn to secrecy. He gives all appearance of a giant of a man who longs to be at peace. I have heard that he believes in freedom, justice, and prosperity for all. I have heard he's a good seed, has no greed, and cannot be bought or sold. I have heard that you are close to him, giving him counsel and godly wisdom. It is said of him that he bravely revisits history without becoming a revisionist. The future shall be paved with those who are unafraid of neither today nor yesterday. It seems our world is spent and spineless, and in such demand for true leadership. So take me to your leader.
You are a dear friend of mine, kind and true. So I beg of you, take me to your leader. He need not be grandiose or a wearer of haloes, nor superhuman or unusually charismatic. He need not raise the dead nor walk on water, but perhaps he knows the one who does. Perhaps his ears, eyes, and heart are opened to genuineness and tightly closed to hypocrisy. Perhaps he holds secrets whose revealing time has come, so please take me to your leader.
08042018PSContest, Take Me To Your Leader, Caren Krutsinger, 1stPl.
BIRD DREAMS
The worst nightmare would be if I
Was an ostrich, and (of course) couldn’t fly.
The fly-guys sit around chugging bird-beer
Boasting of chicks they’ve held dear -
And tales of diving and soaring -
But my earthbound tail is boring.
They exclude me because I’m absurd -
I’m not a real bird. . . . not a bird’s bird.
But if there was reincarnation later,
I’d want to be a penguin, a wearer
Of a smart suit like a posh waiter,
With a kick-ass name like Emperor.
Surely all would find the idea bold:
A story for other birds to be retold.
Yes, my bird-cred card would be gold,
Enjoying the Antarctic cold.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Jades of green, yellow and white;
the colors of life grow warm against the skin.
Precious gems of the lands minerals;
coveted by any, Jade is the stone of emperors;
lends a classy aire to any occasion and
a warm, rich presence to its wearer.
Sapphire elixir has formed herself into a beautiful gem,
relieving mental outbursts
repelling negative thought waves that could harm
or inflict self-doubt of any kind
Sapphire properties transmutes negative thoughts
into light and happy ones.
Reaching for a dark navy stone in the form of a
pendant, ring or bracelet
influences the wearer toward happy, light, joyful moods
Sapphire has been revered by the ancients,
since the beginning of the beginning
known by the ones who know the heart's soul the best
Appreciated by those who can heal torn
Chakras, and those who can feel the earth's pain.
A magic elixir in the form of a gem that has the power
to transmute negative thought into positive healing
Healing for you, and healing for the earth.
Sapphire. The magic elixir toward great quantities of joy.
This viral curse that wears a crown.
that takes man's breath and lays him down,
that shuts his door,
his church, his town.
Heaven did not sling this bolt,
but patient waits for earth to halt,
and turn its eyes towards the hills,
towards the skies from where help comes,
from where help came when deeper curse was laid,
laid just on one man's frame.
That breath was also given up,
that chest compressed and pierced 'til fluid flowed
when head was bowed, then body bound
and laid in rich man’s tomb.
This rightful wearer of the crown still waits
to make this world his own.
Yet not with fearful covert crown,
but thorny crown for all to see,
high lifted on his mercy tree,
our saving mercy tree.
A hat can hide a head that's bald
Or one with unwashed hair.
It often makes the wearer feel
That he or she has flair.
Protection from the sun or rain
A hat can, too, provide.
The wind won't get to tresses
When a cap's tucked them inside.
Of late, I've started sporting hats
Of many styles and brims.
I choose the one that matches
What I'm wearing or my whims.
The only drawback that I find
Is when I'm dining out
Or in the theater where no racks
Or closets are about...
I have no clue where it should go
Or what to do with it,
So through the show or meal
Upon my lap it gets to sit.
A tiny price to pay, I think;
We go the extra mile
And suffer just a little bit
To strut around in style.
The Shining Mr Black
Mr. Black, a clever and insidious little man
had a very dark and wicked little Muse.
Deception the primary weapon in his sad plan
aways holding another slick trick to use!
Wearer of such a superb deceiving face mask
he practiced reciting lies two by two.
Always ready with a lie should you dare ask
confident he can always deceive you!
Wrapped in clouds with many halo's to spare
so many admired his falsely laid path.
With absolutely no honor, he hadn't a care
no fear of retribution delivered wrath.
Yet truth, as so often, hits him with fact.
Glaring mistake, such he can never retract!
Robert J. Lindley, 09-27-2015
Note: Truth has a way of making itself known,
eventually, about such clever little deceivers.
A thin trail of smoke rises from his discarded pipe. A stark shadow falls from his hat brim, as he leans into the beam of light. He clasps his hands together and rests them on the desk top. From behind him you hear the creak of leather shoes, as the wearer shifts his unseen bulk. You imagine what you cannot see under that brim. Piercing, merciless eyes, focussed on you. They measure you, calculating. Wooden groans echo as the stateroom moves with the tide. The hand on your shoulder attempts a reassuring squeeze. Then the Captain clears his throat…
“But the fact remains
time travel limits opportunity.
How?
I hear you ask.
Let us say
the birds sing
and the sun shines,
and your true love
holds your hand.
Well you’d alter time
if you possibly could,
to keep this
cherished love grand.
But you just
may well
put at risk
Destiny’s master plan.
For when this love
did end
you’d earn your reward,
a prize so dear
and sweet.
The understanding
and consuming passion
of a brilliant flame,
who now, you’ll
never meet.”
Fasting cleanses both body and soul
It breaks you only to make you whole
Its spiritual connection plays a vital role.
Now not only the wearer knows the shoe pinches
for you get the chance to be in the needy's shoes
A whole month to forget those addictive binges
A chance to comprehend the poor man's cues.
Donot complain if your tummy's rumbling grumbling
for the poor man has always been thus starving
Feel his hunger, feel for him
and side by side give your weight a trim
Everybody wants to be so slim.
Many religions do prescribe it
The fasting one will describe it
If you have never done it
you might want to try it.
A month of fortitude, forbearance is a month of fasting
intended to impart a self-control and patience that's everlasting.
We all need ketosis to get rid of the lipids, fat stores
And researcher Google just told me that's what fasting ensures!
Craving for eatables the belly though may be raging
yet scientists have proved that produces a substance for anti-aging!
So if you are interested in a healthier, longer life span
come join me and fast away this month of Ramazaan.
It's time you understood God's health plan.
Researchers say the fasting person diverts energy
from the digestive system to the immune system!
Every wajibat has been proven good for both soul and body
Scroll even Google for yourself to thank the fasting dictum.
Fasting's a perfect way of bodily detoxification
Researchers say it's notable how fasting detoxifies each organ!
So come one come all, fasting can be for any creed
It lowers the BP and lowers the greed
as attention is diverted from the self to those in need.
I hope a month of NO food yet gives some food for thought
For a fasting from pondering should never be sought!
My grandson has a lot of tees
With Mario imprinted.
His sister wears her Ariels,
Her mermaid passion hinted.
Which made me think of certain shirts,
Quite popular back when
I though that Dr. Kildare
Was the handsomest of men.
They didn’t have his picture
But resembled what he wore
And how I wished I had one
Sitting in my dresser drawer!
In doctor-white, with buttons
Going neck-high up the side,
The wearer would be filled with
Fans of Dr. Kildare pride.
A classmate owned one and she wore it,
Showing off, at school.
Ironically, she found Ben Casey,*
M.D., much more cool.
Compared to tie-in clothes today,
A Dr. Kildare smock
Was rare enough that even E-Bay
Has not one in stock.
*Dr. Kildare and Ben Casey, M.D.
were two popular T.V. shows about doctors
in the 1960’s
I am a dare-dreamer, a mask wearer
a soul bare-r (not always my own); a word-weaver.
I pull thoughts like strings. Strings of cobwebs,
cirrus, frayed dungarees, threadbare memories.
I warp and weft strings of thoughts into poems.
Sometimes I get caught in knots—
I cut myself loose of those naughty strings.
I hold kite strings. Oh and rainbows strings.
They connect my soles to realms of my soul.
At times, I lose sight of kites in the gale.
Was I irresponsible with responsibility for strings?
I think, “thoughts”, should get lost in wind and clouds
to find the eye-of-the-storm—where I rescue
kites and make a poetry page my stage
and arena. I twine strings into heavyweight rope.
Fasten it to four corners of a contest page. I enter,
incognito, with Apollo imagery and Dionysus metaphor;
a masked prize-fighter filled with creative angst.
I grin for wins in poesy masquerade parades.
When I fail, strings break off of my drama mask.
Revealed but unrecognized, am I a fractured rainbow?
My inner balcony critic reprimands:
“sunlight through raindrops must be flawless
to create flawless strings of prismatic color”! Alas,
lack of refraction leaves words white; non-prismatic.
I restring tragedy mask; ego sphere of a versateer.
I create poetry because I love to pluck things;
harp strings and heartstrings…
If I no longer make readers cry, will pen cred be lost?
Don’t think I won’t pluck nightshade petals, fly’s wings
and cello strings to make you feel my tormentia!
I’ll quiver lips of lost-in-love verse. Coax your soul
to sip pale ale of sorrow, as strawberry scent
scalds your skin. I’m not unhappy to gratify your senses.
I loop maverick string, whirl it and throw—
lasso a funhouse mirror; rein it in.
Imagination stilt-dances in looney-glass gaze.
I use muse strings to hang mirrors and ask;
who’s the puppeteer and who’s the puppet—
poet or reader?
Truth be known,
I had no intention in entering this contest
But then another contestant
Had to bring up her warts ! LOL love-ya
I am the keeper of a dream
I am the writer of the words
I am the wearer of the smile
I am the sound that's seldom heard
I am the worker of the wood
I am the sculptor of the clay
I am the maker of your laugh
I am the tears that run away
I am the ear that will listen
I am the eye that sees your plight
I am your friend if you will let me
I am the hand that grips your's tight
St David our patron and wearer of daffies
Lynched by the English who named us all Taffies
With our fellow Celts, they feared we would stand
and repel Anglo-Saxons from all British land
But spring-time did come, along with a truce
The trumpets of yellow announcing the news
A change in the seasons, a break in the rain
The daffodils dance in the warm breeze again
*Happy St Davids day for March 1st
Dydd Gwyl Dewi I pawb yn Cymru ar Mawrth 1af*
For Francines Daffodil contest
29th Feb 2012