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The Best Wisdom Poems

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Disposable Wisdom

Each day Annie Lesley opened a can
Her eighty-six-year-old hands trembling
As she sat with her cat and ate pet food
What is wrong with this elder’s rendering?

Pride swallowed to remain independent
Large, sunken eyes peered from her weathered face
Her late spouse a decorated hero
Annie’s lifestyle a national disgrace

More enlightened cultures all over the world
Have revered their seniors throughout history
Asians and Native Americans
Are just two who honor their ancestry

Polynesians, other Pacific tribes
Respect the wisdom that comes with age
Seniors are welcome in family homes
But here in the states they’re placed in a cage

Bone-thin Annie Lesley chose to be free
Amazing neighbors with her endurance
When social services tried to intervene
She fought with remarkable resilience

Old photos on walls told many great tales
But only purring Tibby was listening
Each morning she rose to care for her cat
Until the day that Tibby went missing

In tears she claimed he must have been poisoned
Though in cat years he was older than she
Each day she sat by the window, staring
Awaiting the homecoming of Tibby

She’d been abandoned by society
Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation
For sacrificing her spouse in World War II	
Annie received little compensation

This widowed war bride never had children
Her mate had met his fate in Normandy
Posthumous awards she dusted each day
Annie’s life was defined by loyalty

To a man and a cat who never came home
And the vigil she kept all alone
Ended quietly one warm summer night
When an angel came to take Annie home

With a can of cat food in hand when found
Annie had nothing else to eat in her house
This is the way a veteran’s wife died
And tear stains had blemished her faded blouse

Although seniors’ wisdom is heeded
In societies that grow from history
Too many like Annie lead lonely lives
Wisdom untapped, they die in poverty


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009


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Listen To Life

Have you heard me?

Borne upon the air at dusk, dancing ... I have whispered you in a million voices
    Still, you descry not my utterance? Listen, yet, for all is precious ...
        In the tremble of the plum blossoms - is the tender truth not there?
            In the aching sigh of spring-tide, longing for the touch of LIFE

Does my intent not appear ... clearly?
    In the hollow goodbye of the passing, placed into cold soil
        Or scattered, spinning, on the breeze ... in the belly laugh of a child,
            Finding untarnished joy for the first time ... in the bloom of creation

Come to realization on the tip of a slender branch .. hearken yet, close! There!
    Feel it ... HEAR it! Within the keen and cold desperation of winter wind ...
        Inside the scratchings of fear, black as coal ...
            Deep, deep within the horror of oblivion, and the knowledge

That the ONLY thing that endears life to itself, is the LOSS of it ...
    Here - here in the breath of silence ... brushed aside, oh so gently,
        Like the strands of hair from a baby's forehead in the midst of fever ...
            Like a lover painted in moonbeams - lost in moments,

Drowning in the hope that intimacy means something more ...
    Like the glint in the eye of a pet, whose owner's caress is everything ...
        Like the rusty tears of a madman, doomed,
            Shed for the sake of life sacrificed in reclamation ...

Like the warm pulse of lifeblood, coursing ...
    Like the wash of phosphorescence on a beach,
        Where countless souls were given - sacrificed needlessly
            For the aims of self-important fools, half a world away ...

Like the frost on a window, left by the breath of a dying promise ...
    Like the shudder of skin, touched by attentive fingertips in passion ...
        Like the cold kiss of a friend, lost, set free by the failing of a respirator
            A final farewell to an existence of pain ...

Like the face of a dear one, cradled in your palms in the wish for forgiveness ...
    I have spoken to you in earnest - across the addled ages,
        You have felt my breath warm on your cheek, yet you walk on, careless
            You buzz about your life in apathy and indifference,

Searching for integral meaning, when that meaning was yours all the time ...
    The preciousness of this existence, is ONLY of such value for two reasons:
        It is BRIEF ... and you are mortal ...
            Life is the only true gift you are EVER given

And death the unshakable assumption of its worth
    Death is ultimate, inescapable ...
        But in all its dark disguises, it is the one TRUE element that we require
            The one true measure of importance,

And the salvation of all that is good and estimable,
    For LIFE is worthless without it ...
        Its precious spark, doused with but a breath of limitless value.
            I have whispered that to you in a million voices ...

Have you heard me?




~ 1st Place ~  in the "How Precious Life Is" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.



Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017


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American Indian, Nightshades, Moonshadows And Howling Wolf

American Indian, Nightshades, Moonshadows And Howling Wolf

Thirsty for red moon, its sacred beams and eternal pull
howling-out to speak to this dark and blind world, without fear;
Your echoes enter, soulful bones of insightful red man
birthing growing urges to return and run truly free,
falling upon ancient trails, foraging for lean red meat
race with red-heart's deepest desires into widest abyss,
embrace our mother earth, unified into one body. 

Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'. 
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.

Standing proud, atop very high and lonesome mountain crag
winds caressing one of Nature's most beautiful creatures;
Notes calling loud, that give night's resplendent moon pregnant pause
in that silent and golden moment, where man so trembles,
for it is then knowledge comes, therein sings of true freedom
having no need for dreams of blind men or dark worldly lusts,
speaking to pack below, mirroring its deep felt tones.

Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'. 
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.

Alas! Fate and Fury- rage combine and oft delivers
soul-crushing, black-handed cuts from darkened realms far below;
Wherein has justice overcame Fate's most savage attacks
when hatred and greed both conspired to not be defeated,
in infliction of war's sorrows and deadly destruction
while parading under banner of Light and compassion,
tales of malevolent beasts, benevolently destroyed!

Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'. 
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.

R. J. Lindley,
Feb 2nd, 1973
Poetry-- Subject Nature, Wolf, Amerian Indian And Injustice...

Old note: My mother's father was Native American. I gained
great insight into the life of Native Americans from words
he spoke to me. Since his death, I have read many books that
gave even more historical knowledge on the subject. Finding 
the ones that did not deliberately cover up the savage acts
carried out by "whites" against Native Americans.  




Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2018


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India

I hear much joy in the music,
View elation in the dance
Feel happiness in the laughter,
Soulful spirit in poetic romance.

I feel love in the language
Swelling in my heart.
Reverence for God and Goddess
In beloved families far apart.

I love the customs and the people
As they celebrate each day
Living life to the fullest
In their honor I wish to pray

That I may learn to be as humble
As loving and as kind,
To be blessed by elder wisdom
In every senior that I find.

This is a gift to give my children
To open their sleepy little eyes.
To see the value in rejoicing,
To reach for stars up in the skies.

When they learn this knowledge 
To listen well to the sages,
They will know of sacred secrets
Handed down through the ages.

© 2014 Connie Marcum Wong


Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014


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What dead eyes sees

                    Imagine you have died ~ a free spirit without a cry

  Walking down the avenue ~ people passing straight through you

     Hearing whispering thoughts to blind ~ some of good intentions ~ others 

                 intertwined

  Emotions running wild ~ the same old jungle ~ the same old sigh ~ you 

           begin to wonder why

  Imagine seeing yourself ~ an unfamiliar face ~ someone else of 

           another time or place

Somehow you could see the good and bad ~ why hearts are broken ~ the 

                inner sad

Imagine you could live again ~ knowing fully well ~ No one loses ~ no one 
     
                   wins

   All the patterns and deceptive roles ~ a chaotic system ~ way 

             out of control

 Imagine you have another chance ~ to right some wrongs ~ to understand 

     ~ the way things really go down ~ 

        
  Would you be the same ~ You'd surely say ~ It’s impossible to tell ~ 

within the concepts  of heaven and hell


Copyright © Arturo Michael | Year Posted 2018


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To Take Each Day As It Comes

To take each day as it comes
To gratefully praise The One
Joyfully face the new dawn’s grace,
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To guard my thought as it roams
On anything or anyone
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To be careful with my words
To use the value of my hands
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To do everything I can
And bring a smile to not just one
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To celebrate other’s gain
Not consciously cause another's pain
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
Not all the time comes the sun
For sorrow comes to everyone
And that I must understand.

To take each day as it comes
And know that I’m but a man
I will be glad, life’s not that bad
And do my part in God’s plan.



*A resolution during a time of disappointment.

Kim Patrice Nunez
04 August 2015
image credit: Edwin Hofert


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015


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Fragile

Tenderly ...
As if robin's eggs ...
I consider the brittle fragments of her heart,
Cupped in my tarnished Tin Man hands ...
Not taking for granted the entrustment of their care,
I lay them out like priceless puzzle pieces
Upon a surface of loving intent.
She is but finery, fragile,
And I her fool.

Considerately ...
As if leaves on water ...
I recall the women and passions squandered,
Encounters and affairs and intimacies ...
As spicy, splendid and varied as an artist's palette -
Some, immutable as acrylics, others fading like watercolors in the sun,
Swept away by life's intrepid courses and floods.
Love is but portion, fragile,
And I its fool.

Delicately ...
As if disarming a bomb ...
A Muslim man cleans the lifeless body of his little boy,
Killed by a roadside explosive device while riding his bicycle ...
A mine left behind by an enemy brigade, retreating his town as part of a truce,
His Hindu brother's brigade - the brother he loves ... and despises.
Washing his son with his tears, he thinks of naught but vengeance.
Peace is but sufferance, fragile,
And I its fool.

Exquisitely ...
As if fine goose down ...
I scrutinize the keynotes of my existence,
Turning them gently over with the voltaic breath of my thoughts ...
To the effectuation that none afford me the broadsword of achievement,
That the faults far outnumber the fortunes ... successes, far short the falls.
Still, I've known the passions and shadows as deeply as any,
Formidable joys, exquisite agonies, and sublime oblivions.
Life is but passage, fragile,
And I its fool.

Poignantly ...
As if fine lacy crystals ...
We gild the memories of lost loves and those passed,
Consummate hurts and piercing heartaches ...
Each and every one a precious memento of the depth of affections realized,
Scars and wounds, the invaluable proofs of how profound our devotions, thus. 
Oh, how intensely we love! How dearly we grieve!
And how acute our need for BOTH!
Pain is but love, fragile,
And we its fools ...

Its sad, happy fools.



** FIRST PLACE in the "Fragile" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Sponsor. **


Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017


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Cascading Love



By the breath of God frost is given ...
Hast thou entered into 
the treasures of the snow? ...
Out of whose womb came the ice?
and the hoary frost of heaven, 
who hath gendered it?
— Job 37:10; 38:22,29


Standing in the winter cold,
tasting the small snowflakes that fall
I think of you, my God ...
and your boundless cascading love
You revealed to me the secret treasures of the snow
How each small act of kindness
is like one little glistening snowflake that the wind blow
Your love so heavenly dispersed
across the whole earth
Billions and billions of countless snowflakes,
I open my mouth wide to taste
So much heavenly love cascading down;
I see the virgin snow shining all around,
as more snowflakes of love fall to the ground
Your godly wisdom shows us
that the heart of man wax cold
So You reveal the warmth of Your endless love
in the form of the falling snow
Your evergreen shower of white love covers the whole earth
Each small snowflake 
represents an act of pure faith birth love
given to each individual
Billions and billions of souls,
and billions of countless yet-to-be more
Be fruitful and multiply God said:
Let the whole earth abound with love
I see the snowflakes of cascading charity
shed abroad from the heavens above
Such pure, falling white love 
Oh, how the cold feels so warm!
So much infinite love cascading down
Your love, my God, truly transforms
And more snow, more snow ... more snowflakes
keep falling out from the storm — 
like hoar frost manna
falling down from the sky
They’re heavenly tears of joy ...
descending, 
gently melting in my mind
Of whose falling,
I now know the meaning why


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017


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Invisible Colors



About our first parents,
here’s something beautiful to know
Adam was created perfect,
and from out of him, Eve followed
God said to His Son:
You and I, We are One 
Lets make them like us,
in Our image color them invisible
Give them one rainbow soul,
two spirits with hearts of gold
But the most precious gift of all,
God gave them a skin of faith
So they could live under the Son,
bathing in the bright rays 
of His love, free and unafraid
Using invisible colors,
is how Adam and Eve were body painted
With a faith paintbrush,
their children were meant to be picture perfect sainted
God made us all in His image — 
beautiful invisible colors
God said teach your children this one thing:
to love one another
God said to Adam and Eve:
your children are all sisters and brothers
For I have blessed them, you see,
to look like My Son and Me — 
Pure and holy invisible colors
We were meant to be fruitful and abound,
growing in love for one another
And I will confess right now:
We are One ... everybody connected to each other
And I love you and you and you,
for you are all my sisters and brothers
Looking good in our spiritual skin:
beautiful invisible colors ... 
beautiful invisible colors


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017


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The Drift

Hearts do fall in life
Burst into storms of ardour
Drift against anchor.
Confine your heart to reason
When not ready for the tide.


Copyright © Besma Riabi Dziri | Year Posted 2018


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In Such Intense Flames, An Eternity May Be Born

In Such Intense Flames, An Eternity May Be Born

Hold your dreams, bind them with rainbow beams
tumble sweetly and let heart's passion arise
sow the seeds that love gives passion's great might
that Life and Love both gift oft in joyful surprise.

With that deep ardor born from Love's treasure chest.
Sing soul's worth and honor thy lover's greatest request.

Embrace those blessings that truest romance bestows
caress them with care and taste their honey sweet
let spring forth, memories that forever shall live
for gems of purest love, never suffer indignant defeat.

With that deep ardor born from Love's treasure chest.
Sing soul's worth and honor thy lover's greatest request.

Chase your heart's desire, revel in its glorious touch
kindle such heat, stoke fantasy and its hottest of fires
for in such intense flames, an eternity may be born
even after glow of passion's saddest of funeral pyres.

With that deep ardor born from Love's treasure chest.
Sing soul's worth and honor thy lover's greatest request.

Robert J. Lindley , 10-14-2018
Rhyme, ( Looking Back, Ages Ago)

Poet's Note- Dedicated to my great friend and writing partner, Susan Ashley. 

Inspired by and composed after my reading of Susan Ashley's superbly crafted new poem titled, The Glory Of The Eastern Edge. Thank you dear friend for  seeding this burst of early morn writing. 
This revisiting of the romantic imaginations of my youth-  reminds me now of the immense love and great blessings of my beloved wife Riza and the most cherished blessing of our beloved son Justin.
What once was lost, much later has been found..


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2018


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Dreamscapes An Education In The Mind

Dream schemes play across the screen And third eye examines them, Ever so closely; tonight, Another etheric flight; Will show me new horizons And the beings that dwell there; The archetypes and images. Scenes play out in colors, Shadows weave their magic; I am inundated. Visiting spirits came, Just to bid me adieu; My guides know what I need. Somewhere the light starts, To glow; a pinpoint, Growing as it moves Toward each scene, shines; Revealing wisdom. A dream is an Education; Dream and wisdom Will come to you. Dreaming mind, Subconscious, Library. Dream long And deep; Dream.


Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2018


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THE WHEEL HAS COME FULL CIRCLE

What goes up must come down. 
No colors can define who you are. 
You may own a cart or limousine. 
We'll still reach the end when it is near. 
I may be poor today and eat from trash. 
Tomorrow, you can't tell. I'll earn some cash. 
The bed where you lie is soft and wide. 
I sleep at a sidewalk and the stars are my lamp. 
You wake up each morn' with a feast on your table 
While we are scavenging to fill stomachs when we're able. 
Our destiny isn't written in the stars. 
We work for a living to thrive in this life. 
Be thankful every morning you witness the sun 
And pray tonight that no one lives same as I. 
Wheels come in full circle,rolling round and round. 
Today you'll be on top, 
I am watching from the ground. 
Let us bear in our minds that we are better than birds. 
Our loving Father ensures each mouth is fed. 
Not even the smallest details can pass by His eyes. 
So plant a seed of kindness and reap a better life. 



sponsor:FRANK H.

name of 
contest: SHAKESPEARE

*5th Place winner










Copyright © Aiyah Torres | Year Posted 2014


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Enlighten Me

"Haiku of enlightenment"

all explanations 
a perceptive, world of green
mocking the land

summoned bird calls
tantra and morality 
zestful garden-----------------  in waiting 

by;pd


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014


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To Forgive Or Not To Forgive

To forgive or not to forgive, that is the question.
When you are offended, whether real or imagined
by a loved one, a friend, or by someone esteemed,
do you confront the other, or resolve to be patient?

If by some stroke of luck, the offender apologized
but turns around, talking glib gobbledygook,
do you keep silent and still, looking cool as ice,
or do you tell it to his face, that he’s more than a crook?

At such time as this, or any time for that matter,
it is best to forgive whether he asks for it or not.
Do not poison your heart with cyanide blather;
bitterness can bother like a bat’s up your butt!

Forgiveness frees the offended from the devil’s deceit;
and makes you smile at the debtor, as his debt, you forfeit.



*First line draws on Hamlet's soliloquy, Act III, Scene 1; W. Shakespeare

A modern sonnet.  
06 October 2015
Poem of the Week - October 11 to 17, 2015


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015


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Everyday is Beautiful

Everyday is beautiful, son,
and no that's not being optimistic.
You're here - you're alive - with one more day on your plate.
That's just being realistic.

Tuesdays are for Tenderness, for the little things found beneath the rubble:
a flower peeking or a new-dream seeking, even though its subtle.

Wednesdays are for Wishes --- like hoping on that pretty, pretty star,
for something just around the corner is never all that far.

And Thursdays are for Thoughtfulness, on those reflective afternoons,
where all of life hangs between your ears, as your heart struggles to make room
for all the love that's bursting inside of you ...

            (I know it's there!
                        hiding somewhere ... perhaps beneath the dirt and muck)

Fridays are for Friendship --- to the ones who you know true,
and hold you oh so close, despite all of life's various hues.

Saturdays are for Sanctification from all of distraction's clutter;
an occasion to make small your piece of toast, for there's too much of time's butter,
spreading oh so thin on Little You.

And Sundays are for Sunflowers, and the smile that ensues on even the coldest soul.
Treasure it child, if you ever see it bloom, for she's a fragile beauty that makes you whole.

Yes, my son ... EVERY day is beautiful, and Mondays especially,
for that's the day we praise our Mothers,
for giving birth to us at such a time as this      (God knows it wasn't easy)
And no, I don't need to see the Seven Wonders,
to know how beautiful life can be,
for I've got all the splendor I can handle ...

... seven days a week.




Image Used: The I Hate Mondays T-Shirt Picture

Written April 10th, 2016
For the Images Contest Hosted by Silent One


Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016


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The Poet Warrior

My Dear Enemy
Here I am
In full armor
My quill is full of arrows
My bow is taunt and ready fro battle
My horse is pristine and shiny black
I am your enemy
As you are mine to the death
I shall take my bow and arrow
Pierce you through the heart
My king shall praise and honor me
For many battles so well fought
I know I have to shoot my arrows
To save my own pitiful soul

My dear enemy
I just long for you to know
Every arrow, every drop of blood
Every soul that must depart
Due to my fine skills and sharp arrow darts
I die along with you
I know not who you are
Yet a weep for your lost soul
I imagine other times
Maybe we would sit for tea and cookies
Laughing over words of glee
You and I so battle ready
I am sorry for all the battle scars
The blood that flows so deep
Every arrow that leaves my bow
I am sure it too, also weeps

My Dear Enemy
I prey today that before the dusk
One of you will have a finer bow
My heart no longer has the will
To fill my quill with arrows so
Today, I let one of you end my day
No longer can I live on this way
All my fine arrows fired
Have finally been on target
My Dear Enemy
I love you as any man
I have only love for humanity
I pray one day
Our Kings and Queens shall feel this way
As off the battle field, I am carried away


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015


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MY HYPOCRISY

Were I to know your depth’s degree
I’d want to dive quite fearlessly
give all the things required of me
to plunge into our destiny.

Were I to touch the heaven’s gate
I’ll even bear hell’s jealous hate
for being in this tortured state
you’ll see that I’m your destined fate.

Were I to scale the steepest height
of friendship's pleasure and delight
I’d want to share our deep insight
fun and laughter each day and night.

Were I to taste your sweetest kiss
I’d want to stay, that I won’t miss
for too long I did wait for this
the moment our souls meet…a bliss.

Were I to hear your heart’s desire
I'd want to touch, feel the fire
the fiercest heat while wind and choir
rise to the highest notes of lyre.

Were I to hold the strength of yours
absorb the substance of your force
I’d want to leave a charted course
and row with passion’s guiding oars.

Were I to ride the ocean’s waves
before it feeds the tempest’s graves
I’d want the shelter your heart saves
for you my love, it’s I… who craves.

But, were you to ask this of me 
be your true love eternally
I still cannot accept, you see
…this is my sad hypocrisy.

So I'll pretend not loving you
I'd rather hurt ourselves in lieu
of people who shared our lives' hue
before my world got splashed by you.


KIM PATRICE NUNEZ
What is Your Hypocrisy Contest - 1st Place
08 April 2015


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015


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Moment of Truth


I was walking with two friends of mine,
when we saw a woman
who was tall, beautiful and black
They spoke lewd to her,
so she didn't speak back
In their rejected anger,
they cursed her in a cruel, mean tone
That's when I interceded,
and said leave the poor woman alone
My two friends looked at me
like I was some kinda traitor
That day we parted ways,
there would be no more days of see ya later

In a moment of truth,
will you stand up for the truth
Or will you back down,
and keep your mouth shut

It's moments like those
that reveal what manner of person you are
Will you be naked or clothed,
will your spirit be dark,
or will it shine like a star

Nobody ever said friendships are forever,
not when you have to compromise
your integrity in a matter

In a moment of truth,
don't keep your mouth closed
Let your voice roar
like a lion, strong and bold


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2016


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Temptation Itches On All Living Things

Temptation Itches On All Living Things

Temptation itches on all living things
often nobody knows just how it stings,
not the icky-glues in its sticky pastes
nor the rotten fruits in its wasted wastes.

She the vixen nobody could resist
her vanishing pleasures - elusive mists,
long legs descend from heavenly skies
later, such dark pains in lamented cries.

Victim once thought to be heavenly bound
lost, voiceless, no understandable sound,
finds temptress, sexy wares designed to win
she that siren alluring to all men.

You scratch that itch, risking your own peril,
finding wounds that can never be sterile!

12-15- 2016


For Daniel Turner's , What Was I Thinking,  Contest
15 December 2016

Last verse inspiration, from his poem "Between the Lines

Couplet sonnet
Rhyme Scheme:  a a – b b – c c – d d – e e – f f – g g
10 syllables each line.


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016


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Bit Of Truth And Wisdom, Found In Old Age

Bit Of Truth And Wisdom, Found In Old Age

At that age wisdom says life is a joke
consider blindness of other poor folk.
Stop to ponder why on earth we exist
you may just find giving on that big list.

To live well, love hard and thus procreate
easy to see easier to relate.
Living life together with your soulmate
should be a part of everybody's Fate!

Finding life is not about what you got
should be holding solid, number one spot
Tis more about life lived well and deeper
with one you found, knew to be a keeper

If long life, happiness is your great aim
if reaching not for it, you are to blame!

Robert J. Lindley, 1-16-2017
Sonnet



Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017


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Muse On The Loose


Where did she go...she left me in a spin,
     with words fragmented...where do I begin?
She took my thoughts held tight within her arms,
     and now I fear I'm left without her charms.

My missing thoughts and words in pieces lay;
     without a plan, they'll stay in disarray.
Where did she go, that artist of my soul;
     without her lead, no thoughts, no words, no goal.

My muse is on the loose, oh help me, please.
     She's gone for good...or is this just a tease?
My muse is on the loose, what happens now...
     I'm crushed, forsaken...this I can't allow.

I looked into the den where books are kept;
     way high up on the shelves, and then I crept
down cellar stairs among the antiques there,
     then up again, climbed second story stair.

I looked in every corner, neath the bed;
     no sign of her, but then I soon was led
up to the attic with great window view...
     entranced, she sat, and that is when I knew.

My muse was on the loose to find new scenes,
     and now beside her, inspiration streams.
The vision of the mountains, valleys, sky... 
     so beautiful it made me gasp and sigh.

Together we sat weaving thoughts and words,
     while hearing the sweet lullaby of birds.
I learned a poet's muse must be set free
     sometimes to find new views successfully.


Sandra M. Haight

~2nd Place~
Premiere Contest: Muse On The Loose
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 09/12/2016

Iambic Pentameter in Couplets





Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016


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CONFRONTING OLD AGE



 
 

I see you coming, old age
Approaching at an ever accelerating pace,
Your face so grim
Your expression so austere
Your look so menacing,
A frightening sight you are
 
Many battles I have fought in life
With vigor and youth at my side
Thus victorious I emerged

But

Now that my allies slowly abandon me
One after the other,
I am left alone the last battle to fight
A battle, I know beforehand I am bound
To lose

However

At this moment as trials begin
When all seem to get tougher by the day
A new ally I have found, willing to help me,
All my courage to amass for to confront you,
Oh merciless old age:
The wisdom I have acquired all these years 
Of my life! *




© Demetrios Trifiatis
       18 June 2017

* This poem was honored as POTW on the 25th of June 2017. I thank everyone who has appreciated it as everyone who visit me and comment for without their love nothing would have been possible. THANK YOU PS! 



Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2017


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All That Is Between


Dust, they say ...

Dust ... to dust, yet
I have measured the stars
Counted their intervals.
Felt oblivion's breath on my neck, keen

Kissed and cursed its face.
I have tasted sweet tongues
Cried for the bitter phrases they wag
Given fealty to their resonance

And the tamps and scratchings they quicken.
I have cradled inception in my hands
Felt it tremble with wonder ... and fear.
I have gazed on the bloom of consummation

Torn the tapestry from its form
And let it dance in my skin.
I have poured poison rapture into my veins
Yielded all I knew and held, to its heat

Soaked my marrow in its drip
And laughed at the madness of it all.
I have entered another soul
Swum up the rill to its source

And merged in the depths there
Lost forever ... complete.
Dust to dust, indeed.
Still, all that is ...

Between.




* TENTH PLACE in the "Favorite Free Verse (Not For A Contest)" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor. *



Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2018


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Truth Found, Recovery Of A Broken Soul

Truth Found, Recovery Of A Broken Soul

1.
In nightmarish dreams he found such great dread
Of lost hope, life's decay, eyes of the dead.
Day's clear lights his damaged mind repaired
Deep traps from which his heart had been ensnared.
In sunshine he felt life's returning glows
Erase night pains and darkest of its blows.
As sun waned and shadows of dark arrived
He felt again, joy vanquished, love deprived.

2.
What of this devilish, persistent foe
With such powers, its broken claws regrow.
Hope alone, can evil be defeated
Or must Fate decree, his life be cheated.
In sun's bright shining hours his heart grew bold
Oft from tales of warriors of old.
On such bright days his thoughts returned to her
Destroyed dark powers that made life a blur.

3.
Where deepest love passions reign, hope survives
For in man's inner soul, true love revives.
Times and cherished moments serve to remind
With love's great truth, one can never go blind.
Standing firm with knowledge of man's powers
One can face even darkest of dark-hours.
Faith, love and hope are the right paths to take
All the rest are results of blind mistakes.

4.
Armed with newfound wisdom and clearer path
He had weapons to overcome Fate's wrath.
Every night before falling fast asleep
Head bowed, he recited prayers true and deep.
As new dawn's brighter lights came, his heart knew
Torments were over, as joys in life grew.
Found true, cursed Fate can be defeated
If one but lives, each day truth is greeted.

8-24-2017




Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017