Best Wholesomely Poems
When I write of you,
and my love for you,
I also write of God.
For I know He loves me
through the love we
share together each day.
Through you, I feel the
warmth and tenderness
of heaven and it is real.
With you, I feel His touch,
when you embrace me with
your gentle hands.
When I embrace you, I
know our God holds me
me so very close also
The times I hear your voice
it reminds me of the quiet
times when at night His spirit
speaks to me...
For when I think of God
I see your love, and when
I think of you I see the
love of God...
And it shows me our love
is blessed, and made so
wholesomely complete, when
we are equally one together.
Nothing is as tempting
As the flesh of forbidden fruit
One bite, so succulent, so sweet tasting,
Was enough for her to know
That this was all she ever needed
Past fruit that she had feasted on
Could never, now satiate her
Or fill her so wholesomely as this
And having tasted it once
She knew she had to have her fill
As her lips felt the soft sensual flesh,
She gave of herself completely
And the doors of desire, that for so long
Had been closed within her core, re-opened
Allowing love to enter in once more.
Happy Happy Birthday ? ~•°Ren Fields°•~? '
To the BEST AND BRIGHTEST HANDSOME GUY
with the most
SWEETEST SMILING FACE
let me say
happy happy birthday to you
i lift up my glass with a
LYRICAL Toast
just as KINDLY NICE
and WHOLESOMELY TERRIFIC
as to say to you
i hope you have a
happy happy birthday
that only a
POLITE GENTLEMAN
like you can do
happy happy birthday
to a KIND And ADORABLE
MAN AS LOVABLE
as BABY FACE REN FIELDS
WE LOVE YOU
The Fault Was Your Own
With these words,I wonder if I shall break your spirit.
With these stones and stick,I plan to break you.
With this bloody revenge,I will have you wholesomely.
As you slap away m hand let's say our fear is only great toward me yet your cowardice actions are full of jokes
You nothing more then an eye sore,To prideful to even realize that'll you'll fall break before the day is done.
Tick tock,Tick tock. Your clocks running thin,for if I a prideful beast breaks I'll be sure to bring you with me.
Ha,such a dirty creature do you think you can hold me using such unpleasant scene from a forgotten past?
Of course not these be not your past but you near future,Repeating everything over and over until it to much to handle.
Turn around and drink your poison. Even though your no more child you seem to carry a burden not you own,I will have no regrets ending you pitiful life.
How about I become you poison and let me end you futile life.
I will decided how I die and not let some stranger decided who I am.For that purpose I wield this sword.
What a foolish person,to wield a sword for the person you love is what it is and not for the sake of some unseen future.How can you possible care of a future when you stick yourself in a shell and refuse to leave a past that has forgotten you already.
When will you stop with your nonsense.I have no past therefore my future is chained up,perfectly awaiting me.Let me repeat your punishment so you know.
As this we recite the lines as one.
With these words,we will break out spirits.
With steels and spears,we shall break our body's.
With these bloody revenge,we have betrayed each other for the last time.
The snatcher of a growing childhood
converting adolescent innocence to adult desperation
now wears trending covering of power and glamour
with mind blowing colours fading away from one wash
coming from a shredded past is this trapped thunder
having an attitude felt in different temperatures
and character molded by a thousand question marks.
An uncle by blood, a friend at heart
a heart which announces all kinds of delicious meals
but serves in actuality spicy foamy vomit
shows qualities seemingly classmates to humanity
but are wholesomely baptized in the dead sea
the chilling atmosphere is no camouflage for this freezing fire
bathed in his urine, yet now declared clean.
Time has grown beards and once again, their eyes meet
she's expected to kick the whistle for his fame to linger
his shadows, too weighty for this new image he carries
smiles manifesting with a lazy energy
knocking the head of every feminine soul
his moving up has considered these stains beautiful
with his sleeping crimes far from societal righteousness
whoever he has beaten, should be a celibate prostitute
and kick the whistle, never letting it reach the lips.
His sunflower is blue and honey, bitter
letting the world know this, translates to singing hymns to the dead
she stands her ground to open his history's black chamber
he's the criminal but the public stands as her poisonous jury
she chews this bone with rubber teeth but never stops
the truth unveils but to noisy ears
to let all know he's an adult born of a child.
He's tenacious but not on a jean underwear
one more little voice adds to force out a moving plant
the anthill is broken as they come out of all holes
one time preys now unforgiving predators
to show a personality as real as a neckless head
resting on boneless shoulders
the whistle has been blown rather than kicked
as justice and fairness become first cousins to life.
Musicians make melodious music mildly
Lavishing lovely, lively lyric… laudably
Singing sound, sensational songs sweetly
Rocking real, romantic rhapsodies… rightly
Poets pen powerful poems passionately
Writing real, righteous, romantic rhymes rightly
Wielding wealthy, wild, wise words wholesomely
Creating colorful cards… creativity cruising carefully
Artificial Intelligence that is what they call it
colloquial words scattered telepathically
without number system
They met me at four thirty am
outside
with the sound of an ancient helicopter
soaking me with sensory stimuli;
Elemental infrastructure meets futurism
with resounding harmony;
Standing only two feet in proximity
with auditory perception,
I experienced their message loud and clear
we are here to protect you "Soul Slipper"
we do not wish you any harm but to heal you;
I awoke feeling safe, wholesomely healed.
August 28, 2020
I never before,
Have felt the way I do now,
Happiest I've been.
So many of them abound
They make for a burdensome crown
Worn by a government needing to be overthrown
Is it time to kick all these bureaucrats
Out of town?
The mangling of democracy by quangos
Is the new autocracy
A daily cross to bear
For which we have a lot of resentment and fear
Straddling every aspect of now
And extending even into the future
These supposedly independent devils
Terrorize us who try
To live independently
Against them we dare not blaspheme
OFTED AND OFCOM and OFGEN et al
Wield enormous power
The bureaucrats are demi gods
Who chastise and never seem to praise
Tied and severely beholden
To a host of unaccountable gremlins
We live and breathe to always please
Those unelected saints
That bless us not
They do as they wish
With scant regard for any common sense or Legality
They rampage through our lives
An unstoppable machine
That is of no moral use
They can maim indiscriminately
Controlling
Rearranging
Flattening
Castigating
They must wholesomely control our daily grind
Hiding behind rhetoric
They expound regeneration
They lambast NIMBYS
They cherish infamy
They never behave like you and me
The dictats of box ticking quangocrats
Is a travesty for common sense and individuality
This oppressive culture of domination
Maligns citizenship and innate responsibility
We are a public most savagely traduced
When we allow a stranger to do with us as they choose
You have heard love stories, but many were truthfully nightmares or folk lore.
He wore himself exceedingly well, I looked up at him nice and slow.
Pureness and goodness oozed out of him – honesty and love, which shook me to my core.
His hazel eyes and long dark eyelashes knew how to say hello.
His guiding hand and open heart whisked me to a never before known shore.
His goodness leapt from the depth of his soul, sweet, pure goodness -not any way a show.
No one loved another this hard, no matter how many love stories happened before.
He was by far the kindest man I would ever meet, I instantly did know.
There was nothing unseemly about him, he was my lovely forevermore.
I was ready to say take me now, for I was indeed ripe and ready to go.
His attention, and vibrations shook me wholesomely to my inner core.
In his presence I had turned into an angel, a woman with a sparkling glow.
That was almost fifty years ago, and I could have never asked for more.
Keep looking for your forever one, it will mean more than you could ever know.
Pieces of this were written: July 2018
Edited for this Contest 12-02-2018
Contest: Color of My Heart
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Pain that pains the pain that pains
Hate that conceives the hate, that we hate
Loneliness that engulfs the already lonely loneliness
Regrets upon regrets, regretting that we regret
Could be the Price we pay …
For playing the humble games of Kings and Queens, while denouncing our traits from the street
For wearing shinning armour electroplated in silver and gold, until rust reveals our true elements
For playing Romeo and Juliet, but not willing take the concoction of compromise
For playing "Brother and Sister" tags, yet the mind caresses the thoughts of making brothers and sisters
For denying the tongue the taste of words weaved in
and lurking through the cracks of our Wailing hearts
Could be the price we pay … .
For forcing a donkey to the river, and expect it to jump through the hoops of our fantasised fantasies.
For the care we give wholesomely till it sours into an obsession, something that scares them away
For banking our feelings In a vault fixed for the future, while we expect them to notice of our undying love
Could be the price we pay …
For being forthcoming and submissive, a sign of a free lamb meant for the altar
For being too trusting with our Secrets and Pixel's of our natural melanin, till it becomes food for the public eye
Maybe, could be the price we pay
For being humans.
Allow my pen to expose mind’s folly
in the meantime, silly poetically
as I narrate of fictitious Xilly
whose pastime is cheering hilariously
while pondering meditatively
on natural phenomenon deeply
striving to explain them celestially
respecting facts scientifically
defying not Scriptures she trusts dearly
by her perspective, expressed wholesomely.
She claims that angels play bowling gaily
when thunders burst, roaring boisterously…
Oh, for lightnings that blaze tremendously
saints are having pictorial candidly…
See the sky as spacious canvas clearly
spirits present their sketches abstractly…
As rainbows reappear radiantly
color wheel spells R O Y G B I V completely…
Amidst rains that are falling ceaselessly
heaven’s gardens are watered lavishly…
On meteor showers beheld wondrously
cherub and seraph broke stars playfully…
Fret not for eclipse momentarily
since moon and sun meet on-line actually…
Now, check this info she’s shared currently
dealing with climate change accordingly…
Volcanoes do erupt frantically
spewing sulfuric ash obnoxiously…
Such awful smell comes from farts in hell’s belly
thus, masks and face shields must be worn daily…
Xilly’s news is trending contagiously
though fake, its humour ripples truthfully.
*Proverbs 15:21 Folly is joy to him that is destitute of wisdom: but a man of understanding walketh uprightly.
September 25, 2021
10th place, "Fart-tastic" Silly Poem Writing Premier Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke; judged on 9/27/2021.
Of Life Unknown
Those nights simply vanishes along
A memory of her only remains now in dreams
In exchange, is of lonesomeness whence love begone
Alike some thoughts, taking upon stolen wings
Somehow time amazes me much still
Little by little, I’ve forgotten how to love her
Time, probably being the best medicine to heal
Else some passion isn’t that of comfort so dear
I needed some form of isolation I lack
As I remember those words which had drawn me some while ago
Pondering once again, was he a demon himself I’ve met?
Am I forsaken even by him, or must I await yet another morrow?
A shimmer to every passing hour remains
Awaiting in silence, yearning for company like never before
Yet, time is withering away like it never became
Beyond eternal realm, are you not to appear once more?
With the whelming silence echoing the night
Of shadows gracing the walls, seemingly much livelier than I
A moment to be, a moment enchanted of unearthly delights
I suddenly felt unnaturally calm, almost certain I could fly
“Am one not to know, of my presence you solemnly seek
Is not summon upon a wish, in turn, I am only to response if
tranquility will permit
Perhaps this engiven enlightenment might aid you to further understand
Where spirits travel lone, better wizen is simply through timeless when
I sense one’s awakening emotions of anguish withheld
Be in acceptance to embrace for one’s thought to be read well
Welcome that of which need not guidance to be heard
Surrender oneself wholesomely and answers will unveil through
unspoken words
Your heart is the frail vessel
containing the power of the winds.
It carries you, wholesomely,
in tiny pieces of crystal
through the liquid night.
Let your spirit be still,
amid the throbs of pain
sculpting deeper chambers in your heart.
God's Love runs deep.
It's day seven hundred and......... well forgive my demented memory, at least you get the idea
Dreams crave to once more take hold of this insomnia
Its nothing less of a miracle that i still breath the aroma of oxygen from the earthly - Musty smells
I am one with blind salamanders, dining and making a home where this restless body dwells
The sheer darkness herein, covered in three nights, offers more comfort than the light above
The Crickets, harmonizing with unfamiliar territorial warning predator sounds, a sweet melody i have come to love
The chaos continues to unfold
A manifestation of the ripen warnings and prophesies foretold
Deafening high-pitched Whizzing sounds consume the airwaves
Clanks and clunks, beeps and bleeps in search of slaves
Divergent's, defying the mechanical gospel of automation
Believers of the old ways, banking on the principles of rawness and authentication
With me are the last scrolls, penned with blood of liberation
Humanly scripted and crafted with hope of restoration
Weapons in the hands of the loyal Knights fighting the annihilation, of golden knowledge scribbled in stone and passed from generation to generation
Behold the fountain of authentic and unfiltered knowledge, breathing life in the mist of death and endless fighting
A beacon of triumph and creativity on the horizon, a selfless gift shared wholesomely, from his writing.