Best Well Nigh Poems
Dressing the ancient stars amid their anthem weddings attire....
The universe anxiously anticipating these adorned galaxies of, anew ~
Bookplate bridesmaids, with such glittering eyes and broadening smiles
Quickly making their jubilant ways down, the amendable aisles
With a world beholding as, the best of man....
Hearkening hearts rejoicing so, very deeply inside; paradise
Standing at the altar aside, the most beautiful of glorious grooms ~
Wearing heavens luminous harvest moon colours; commencing halos
Visages, as a sparkling fireworks display afore the joys of an innocent, awestruck child....
Immaculate and pristine; these most mesmerizing of scenes
Cygnus, gathered here to unite this day, paladin unto the morn ~
Extenuatings pragmatic veil; crimsons silkened tides now torn
From, the final pages of such history and lore; a candid, jewel leavened door....
Prismatics band; lifting these velvet promises of an everlasting rainbows, I do ~
Sidereals notes of well-nigh chime; sweet music across the blue made skies
Church bells, reaching unto the furthest realms this, celebrations invitation
Come one come all; come as you were come as you are; the brightest star
Making their way through the constellations; jubilee, and all of creation ~
Coterie, disembarking at the depot from a waking moment; neverendings, final destination!?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...."The Wedding, at Dreamendon" ~
Note: Smile ~ "Merry Christmas Everyone; May It Be 'Beautiful & Bright; Love,'" John!:) ~
The castle tower stands there tall and proud,
Awaiting for your safely coming home,
Just as I do, with tears that freely flow;
Salt water tears that pool are not my own,
The salty ocean droplets sting the eyes.
I am alone, in sorrows well nigh drowned,
And you alone, amongst the raging tides.
This white cloth waves to you amid the winds
That blow your ship to my own sandy shore --
My heart a wind-tossed stormy cloud no more.
Up here beside the stately castle wall,
Enfolded safely home within your arms,
The tears that from my eyes unbidden fall
Reflect your face alight with joys and charms;
There lie forgotten all my dread alarms.
I am with you, by jubilation drowned,
And you with me, the waves a distant sound.
By Kelly Deschler, September 7, 2013 Form: Iambic Pentameter
And Isaiah Zerbst, September 14, 2013 Form: Rhyme Royal
Based on the painting of the same title by William Powell Frith, 1858
A Christmas Prayer for Ukraine
God for Christmas on Ukraine bestow hope
For those folk in dire need of hope to cope
Solace to console the soulful hearted
Doleful since the day Putin’s war started.
Many tears have been sorrowfully cried
For those wounded or no longer alive
Homes and buildings repeatedly attacked
Down to a madman’s lies slyly amassed.
I Pray for safety of Ukraine’s brave men
Retaliating again and again
For women and children who cannot rest
Fearing the worst and hoping for the best.
Praying for those who for safety have fled
To countries where they sleep safely in bed
For the kindly souls who settle them down
For recovery well-nigh to abound.
I pray Lord seek out Ukrainian lambs
Touch them with thy gentle, powerful hands
Shine your light o’er everyone here on earth
As we commemorate the holy birth.
*+*+*
24th December 2022
Less than twenty-four hours after dashing off a poem
explaining why i wanted to die
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis,
a bowel movement wherein waste unable to expel
from the anus of this guy
which bout with rectal obstruction
found me doubled over with lower abdominal distress
whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright (with back padded with pillows
against the cellar brick wall),
thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh
and managed to muster the means to bare
frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase
the Acme brand Metamucil, which akin to Drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract supposedly loosening the stools,
which optimism (product didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent to cease LivingSocial would try
humph enjoining this lvii year old married male
to cede victory to the grim reaper, who would vie
as winner de jure to this common fellow invoking libretto
ohm resistant understudy waste not want not
allowing, enabling and providing relief,
without successful defecation
despite the oppressive urge to bolster this Uriah
heap of balled up and tuckered out five foot and ten inches of lovely bones
thence mouthing retraction of former thought to cease existing
though a non-bull lever in any power broker qua mankind
relief at long last provided posterior answered prayer
yet, this scrivener scrutinizes his recurring pain in the ass jagged torture
and asks a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?
Poet of Perkiomen Valley
discovered aforementioned titled poem
about thirty months ago he wrote
impossible mission critters to smote
chronic issue yours truly does note
years later meaning today
April 19th, 2022
necessitated we allow, enable
and provide welcome to exterminator
actually management did hote
(obsolete) To command; to enjoin
hazard upon body, mind and spirit,
thus ridding apartment b44
visited by said swarming insects,
his expertise sought to mitigate
courtesy applying insecticide.
Insects created dark shadows
analogous brought outer limits
of twilight zone
resembling edge of night
in truth our one bedroom apartment
at that earlier date
affected, encroached, and outsmarted
by massive infestation of
Drosophila melanogaster light
weight winged worst
pests to eradicate
(scientific name regarding
winged flitting nuisance ignite
mentioned in title) besieged,
inundated, and thickly swarm.
dost primp and pretty
fie themselves (to
attract a witty
mate) during their
40 to 50 days city,
or suburban life
cycle long enough
to qualify for this
quickly written ditty
seemingly overnight
a bajillion biz zee
buzzing adults (each
about 1/8 inch long see
their world wide web,
thru at least one
unusual red eye,
which compound eye
of the fruit fly
contains 760 unit
eyes or ommatidia, well nigh
hapt tubby one of the most
advanced among insects,
where Google search
for home remedies aye
didst find to exterminate
these teeny weeny pests,
plus informational pursuit my
instantaneous curiosity yielded
above mentioned
esoteric tidbits,
sans accidentally disc
covered helpful good riddance
material of household ingredients
restraining me to breathe sigh
of dollop, and hope to try
one or more solutions,
which informed
this amateur entomologist -
listed forthright as:
1. Create a trap by mixing
apple cider vinegar
with a few drops of dish soap.
2. Another homemade trap is to
pour leftover red wine into a jar.
3. Mash up banana slices in a jar, and
cover top with a plastic wrap.
4. Pour bleach solution
into bathroom sink.
5. Detonate atomic explosives
as a last resort.
Our Sid felt well-jaded
his sweat, it cascaded
he feared the end was well-nigh
his head was a-pounding
a hush ultra-sounding
he all but stared death in the eye
Steadily declining
whinging and whining
to the good wife, who had a short thread
she saw a good chance
eyed him askance
said: I'll book you a hospital bed
Afore rushed to hospital
sweated and spittled
he eyed her boobies in double-D vision
for sure he'd have flown
had he but known
he'd been booked for a quick circumcision
Foreshortened but sharper
wooed by nurse Harper
he contemplated suing for cash
with his wired-up jaw
he sipped through a straw
animal innards and veg pulped to mash
Nurse Harper, aflame
with nary no shame
tended his uncalled-for member renewal
she was drooling and crooning
and dream'ly swooning
admirin' his family jewel
In her somewhat dazed state
her aim was not straight
she inadvertently turned on the gas
his urge was to flee
of his wires wrenched free
maneuvered escape from the lass
From two storeys high
(a short distance to fly)
which in retrospect is soundly insane
he took a long jump
balls-down with a thump
now his crotch is perm'nently sprained
**************************************
For Joann's copycat's contest. Initially written by Sid, our mad poet. I copied the poem to my hard drive but somehow the title got lost. Maybe he can help us out with the title he used then. Sid, you're the bomb, me man!!!
The castle tower stands there tall and proud,
Awaiting for your safely coming home,
Just as I do, with tears that freely flow;
Salt water tears that pool are not my own,
The salty ocean droplets sting the eyes.
I am alone, in sorrows well nigh drowned,
And you alone, amongst the raging tides.
This white cloth waves to you amid the winds
That blow your ship to my own sandy shore--
My heart a wind-tossed stormy cloud no more.
Up here beside the stately castle wall,
Enfolded safely home within your arms,
The tears that from my eyes unbidden fall
Reflect your face alight with joys and charms:
There lie forgotten all my dread alarms.
I am with you, by jubilation drowned,
And you with me, the waves a distant sound.
Written by: Kelly Deschler & Isaiah Zerbst
For Shadow Hamilton's "Team Work" contest.
September 7, 2013 - September 14, 2013
Forms: Iambic Pentameter & Rhyme Royal
Based on the painting of the same title by William Powell Frith, 1858
I like the word "beastie," it sounds cute, it sounds Scottish. I'm thinking like 'Scotty' on 'Star Trek' would say, the immortal James Doohan, who I would have figured for a Scotsman, but a Canadian was he, and a good life lived.
On at least one episode of Star Trek he evinced a liking for 'Saurian brandy,' and 'tis certain sure that a stout beverage it would be. While back in the real world, ol' Jimmy boy stormed Juno Beach, Normandy, on D-day, then that very following night a scared Canadian machine-gunner let loose as our intrepid James made his rounds, hitting him six times with "friendly fire" (now how tough would that have been, to swallow as a metaphor at the time?). Improbable after that that life remained, middle finger, right hand, later had to be amputated, plus four shots to a leg, well now that would be thought to be well-nigh fatal, but no, and one in the chest besides, where a silver cigarette case preserved our man's life.
Fires burning, burning bright.
Not for warmth or even light.
Burning flesh seared to the bone.
Was this the sense of martyrdom?
Mary Tudor was the Queen,
return of Popery her dream.
Henry's child without a doubt,
her fathers deeds to turn about.
Men and women, loosing life,
butchers son and bakers wife.
Bishops, clerics, Lords and sires,
Not one spared the holy fires.
Thomas Cranmer was her aim,
he caused her mother so much pain.
Anne Boleyn's most errant knight,
causing Mary's own sad plight.
Hooper, Ridley, Cranmer too,
English folk, all good and true.
All subsumed to appease her bile,
sacrificed on the stakes woodpile.
Fourteen score souls finally died,
entering the flames with pride.
Heretics, each and every one.
Assured of joining God's own son.
As death became well-nigh routine,
The people cried God Save the Queen.
But they, in their hearts, were wary,
amongst themselves called her Bloody Mary.
Igba Irunmole,
These armies in bright blinding splendour,
Arrayed in unfathomable beauties,
Winged being from beyond the galaxies’
Tracking the blues skies unnoticed,
They walk this earth, unseen by mortal eyes,
Igba Irumole,
Sparkling in beauty, I marked their glowing gaze,
In radiance beyond sunlight,
Watching the sons of men day and night,
Though as servants attending,
Yet as warriors in readiness,
They weary themselves unseen by mortals,
Igba Irunmole
They cover the winds in clouds,
Sprinting through sunlight unhurt,
They mingle in lights with glorious enthusiasm,
Constrained by frequent grandeur
Parading this widening landscape
Igba Irunmole
Is this His beauty? a delightful sunbeam,
Buries my gaze in a blindfold of horror
Well nigh to the end of life,
This frame so frail mingled with pains
A strength not mine imbued within,
There I saw my fickle frame.
footnote . Igba Irunmole translated into English Are myriads of Angels
Igba is number count in Yoruba Language,
Irumole, Iru awon oni Imole, the bearers of Light
Limerick: Once a measly Miser in Mumbai
Once a measly Miser in Mumbai
Liked watching dancing girls on the sly
He went to Bolly-Wood
Though he felt jolly good
His loot sucked by Bombay Ducks well nigh.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Those trademark circular elements of style in vogue every four years
When the crème de la crème of the athleticism
presents itself on the world stage
Suspending and transcending any present day internecine conflict
Allowing, enabling, and proffering the five continents
And gathering of top-notch mental, physical and spiritual prowess
Extant with adroit prolific curved arabesques on one corner of the globe
That (like Noah with his Ark kit) human techno wizardry
Bedazzles viewers charting unparalleled feats
Whereby the human body defies the laws of physics and challenges gravity
Fielding a hypnotic colorful tapestry
Whereby the woof and warp of any melancholy moody blue, mellow yellow
Gunmetal green, roman a clef real time red doth white out
The dark knight, temporarily sequestered in a bishopric
Of faux queenly royalty, where a pawn
out the parapet of her castle keep
She imbibes requiem toward protesting the limits of *****sapiens
Inherent parameters, where fluid dynamics
of each most supreme contestant
Sans his/her specialized arena
Further the prior leg holds with free from arm-twisting head lock
And make a mockery of invisible manacles
Purportedly and formerly believed to tether man/woman kind
With unbreakable hidebound genetic/ chromosomal restraints
But nay to those who professed impossibility against the reins
Boxed and fenced in by bow rings set by Mother Nature
Well nigh obsolete and superfluous
What with evident burlesque stellar performances
Leaving the spectators starry eyed with collective mouths agape
As polished prominent performers blithely offset previous milestone
Setting a new yardstick to measure the Olympian capacity
That Heracles and Zeus would most likely deem
as some sort of magic trick
Yet lo, the sensational and majestic pageantry absolutely serious
Lying to rest what used to be merely amateur games
Whereby most any novice could coax a charade, façade, travesty et cetera
Without fear of getting flagged, but phenomenal exhibitors of today
Can nearly bank on netting a truckload of worldly wide wealth
Whereby a hand-made Scottish tartan Harris Tweed welcome mat
Ushers August men and exuding mettle and iron clad dedication
With pomp and circumstance into pantheon of future legends!
The flying butterfly
Flying high in the sky
Perching in the apple-eye
Hi butterfly why in blue-sky?
There on the thyme with a smile
The flying butterfly
In nursery rhymes the passer-by
Calling children far and wide to vie
In a twinkle of an eye
The babies beautifying in style
The flying butterfly
Flings her feathers well-nigh
In the butterfly bush, skying high
Upon the yellowish pine trees, the hover-fly
Displays her colourant in the sky
Usually at a stone's throw they fly
Should I give a farewell as goodbye?
It doesn't respond but around d flowers they fly
Flower-flies, in July
Butterflies announcing the summer eye
Smelling the blue and green flower for awhile
The dragon flies in the sky
Flower-flies bidding goodbye butterfly
Far and near they fly
Descending the harmattan wind from the sky
Oh! Butterfly, I wish I can fly
So high in the sky
It may be for awhile
But there in the colouring clouding sky
I shall bid goodbye with a smile
(Opurum Precious; Nigeria)
Copyright © odiboyp 07/26/2016
" Swept "
'Tis with heart heavy meownself so say~
That which doth trouble me then thus this day~
'Twere she a schooner fine & so grand~
'Twere not she longer in mind's eye demand~
I've swept me brow with turmoil~
Foundered me sets with gargoyle~
Rounded well Horn a'winter cold~
Naught whot ayre e'er thus bold~
She's a'down well nigh a'weather~
Runnin' now light as lost feather~
Smirk now a'from under 'er bow~
Alas! 'Tis e'er whot ayre a'blow~
'Tis a'sea whot ayre 'er goal~
Akin mare & silliest foal~
Nay! Not yet cries voice below~
She with sea doth yet smoothly flow~
SeaWolf
©
this paean to the place name sans title of poem actually mooch oh years decades? ago, when my youngest sister began her decades long residence along the Pacific Northwest.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
county seat, of Mason County, Washington, United States
westernmost city on Puget Sound above ground sans tectonic plates
population 9,834 per 2010 census end result from biological mates
maintains commission form of government drafted by mandates.
Shelton served by small steamboats comprising Puget Sound Mosquito Fleet
Old Settler, Irene, Willie, City of Shelton, Marian, Clara Brown, & S.G. Simpson
logging, farming, dairying, ranching & oyster cultivation for populace to eat
Simpson Timber Company mill on Puget Sound's Oakland Bay over yon
dominates landscape of the downtown area as essential heart beat
Shelton identifies the "Christmas Tree Capital" sold by the ton.
47°12'49?N 123°6'22?W (47.213702, -123.106088)
coordinates bench mark
total area of 5.9 square miles (15 km2),
of which 5.6 square miles (15 km2) land
0.3 square miles (0.78 km2) (5.60%) water laps
with an occasional errant shark
in a pinch captured, processed and canned
a delicacy that fin de siecle bony illegal booty
fined by the oceanic narc.
well nigh two decades in the past
this poet trekked across America beginning in a place called gap
pennsylvania - where stockpile of Amish goodies barely did last
and vanished in a gingerly snap
of fingers, which necessitated sustenance when van fueled i.e. gassed
up while myself or the other driver stole a short nap
seduced to sleep by syncopated tires as highway miles passed
inching closer to youngest sister via this linear transcontinental lap
destination Seattle Washington indigenous iconic statue cast.
Ronald Strickland a fine companion and boone story teller to boot
about my age (five decades plus two) then trying to rake in some loot
by writing about his travels, yet unpretentious and no square at root
perhaps one day, I will surprise him with a call and give him a toot.