Best Wrest Poems
A sweep of milky waves flood onyx sands
converging under endless summer skies
of northern lights in iridescent bands
Icelandic talismans of tales sublime.
A glassy sea of crystalline degrees
sustain a mass of icebergs in its pews
that lift their icy eyes in melting pleas
to wrest the dying of their waning hues.
Aurora beams reflect unearthly lights
against tall umber cliffs that stand below
the vivid landscape raises to grand heights
a trippy, tie dyed phosphorescent show.
In seldom witnessed, lonely obscure lands
a sweep of milky waves flood onyx sands.
Written on 5/21/2019
Love Justice made me wrest you from her bed
It’s right for you to lie with me instead
For you were mine before she came to be
A prowling threat to our felicity
My broken heart cries…JUSTICE!
It’s meant for me to ravish you tonight
To give you pain as well as sheer delight
I love you still and yet your heart must pay
For shameless way you gave my love away
My wounded pride cries...JUSTICE
And here you are inside my bed of love
I’ve bound you up, no more a gentle dove
I take revenge on body and your soul
Enslaved, you yield to dominatrix role
My passion mad cries…JUSTICE
I take from you: I take, I take, I take
Each pleasure filled, I writhe and make you quake
I kiss, caress, and taste in wanton might
Your eyes ablaze, your fervor I ignite
My vengeful soul cries…JUSTICE
And all the while I hear you gasp MY name
In ecstasy my spoils of war I claim
You beg forgiveness as you helpless lie
I satiate my needs; fulfilled I sigh
My hungry need cries…JUSTICE
This tryst was meant to teach you lover's pain
You bear the marks of love that is insane
I slash your bonds and fall in your embrace
For I have seen the wonder in your face
Relieved am I, for I have tasted JUSTICE!
For Justin Bordner’s Love Justice Contest
January 18, 2015
If my sinful scars were hidden
and I could away my selfishness
if I could look on others as my brother
wrest away entitlements...
If true love meant sacrifice
freely given without regrets
if I could marvel at creation
revel in sweet jasmine’s scents...
If I could flee life’s great temptations
follow in the narrow path
if stumbling blocks of fear and anger
were swept away into the past...
Then I could look into the mirror
see what I was truly meant to be
an image bearer borne from heaven
a reflection of His majesty...
For in so loving others as myself
a higher calling I will heed
and finding freedom in the giving
only then my spirit will be free.
Written on 10/24/2018
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1224 Poetry Contest, Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Written: June 20, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Zealous
reflections
wrest my heart
humble
pitapatting
Honed
toward my ears
A thrum
glides
alone
Into a
scene
within
finger
tipped
firmed
curved
notes
Seeking each chord
of tempting harmony played
intimately in heartbeats among
the rivulets of a tempo step
Everything is felt in music
This happens as if holding
onto each note of my own life
Feeling harmonic vibrations
in deep resonating moods
of cool evenings on the patio
Crackling embers at a campfire
Voices recite songs held as would
become a tradition of simpler times of
childhood friendships grew together
Held as if we could hold onto moments
of hopes, of loves, of dreams. The stars
seemed to fall only as we looked away
Gained as one humble guitar absorbs
a night sky of improvised melodies
Each harmony found by instinct
by touch, by invisible sight
**********************
With a voice ornamented in ogled tension
you ask me,
like vulnerable flesh queries warm obsession,
Do you mean to love me this way...
on your mouth, a hold of hope I see
to you I say...
Does the sun choose to flare into sapphire atmosphere,
Does the moon decide who's eyes to enchant,
Does a rose ponder its tempt,
Does a man dare his heart relent,
Does a woman wonder whence came her allure and dare,
A heatwave of heartache's swelter swells over your soul
as the outcry of orgulous omens try to defy our survival,
blood drops fall lonesomely from the old body of a lark
a steeple bell broken by the thunder of sorrow in the dark,
gold found burning into rivulets reaching into graveyard rock,
you begin to weep
because the weight of worry waylays your wishes for our eternity,
I surround you with a love shield that shames the arrows of agony
kissing you softly deep,
then I tell you that fate is not our enemy,
don't you understand my Lady...
Sultans cannot buy or sell the feelings we share,
Emperors unable to enforce the silence of our hearts,
rivals are but ridiculous in attempt to dowse our flame,
Time be trite in march against the magic in our care,
the poetry of our purpose will not be censored by cynical marks,
emotions erratic in wrath will not wrest the roots from which our passion came -
J.A.B.
Though earthly life, as we all know, is full of strife,
Like most of men, I am in love with my life.
I know, on earth we are only interim passengers,
And cannot be here for ever as we are God’s cavaliers.
Despite my soul’s longing to step on the Heavenly shore,
To enjoy all the grace and bliss kept in store,
I don’t wish to shed my earthly existence,
And death, I try to prevent with all my persistence.
Alas! Days wither as petals from a flower.
Time draws near, when before death, I must cower.
My days here are growing shorter than I think
And I am briskly moving to my life’s brink,
When death’s noose strangles me tighter
Oh God, before you, I have only one prayer.
Don’t turn your back on me, when with Satan I fight.
And don’t allow me to be subdued by his might.
I deem my soul to be of priceless worth,
To be harbored in Heaven after my life on earth.
Oh Lord, from all diabolic forces, as I try to wrest,
Help me pass the final test to bide in your heavenly nest.
When I shed my earthly load and bid goodbye,
I shall be as light as a feather and soar high.
Thus, from my body, when my soul shall depart,
Pick me up and hold me in your hands never to part.
I dream of being wafted up by the heavenly throng,
To dwell in glory and lulled to rest by the angel’s song.
I shall then look upon my Savior’s shining face,
And shall thank Him for His benign saving grace!
Feb. 3.2023
How Does the Soul Enter Heaven Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mystic Rose Rose
I got arrested!... further developments await...
By gravity said law
linkedin with physics
stating that a body at rest
will remain thus unless otherwise
acted upon by an external force,
hence I cannot wrest motion
from inert human matter
regarding nearly lifeless entity
concerning how aye barely breathe
heavily weighed down
with lugubriousness easily crushing
this seventy two inch
rusty, cowardly, creaky...
complex corporeal edifice,
thus resigning myself
watching flight of bumblebee
hopscotching from one
clover plant to another
wondrous winged warrior
unphased by human "rat race"
higglety pigglety,
pell mell, helter skelter,
how grand living off the grid
venerating native flora and fauna
simply engrossed with daily tasks
solely attending
basic inalienable rights
life, liberty, pursuit of happiness
keeping stereotypical roles intact
males species pact schedule
hunting in tandem
with brotherly comrades
females tending hearth and home
tendering, safeguarding, nesting...
homeschooling offspring
supervising fledgling,
the latter gingerly venturing
tentatively into parts unknown
unfamiliar territory brimming
trained instincts detect danger,
nonetheless plod along
blueprinted genetically
inherent migratory paths
guides where uncertainty looms
within wide whirring web
invoking, feigning camouflage,
or mimicking ("FAKE")
simulating another organism.
My soul and body have never been good friends
They are in enmity, constantly at logger heads
When my body aspires to have riches and fame
My soul strives those tempestuous desires to tame
When my body seeks to have fun and frolic in whole
My soul yearns to see me freed from their deathly control
It recognizes, there is a life higher than this earthly life
Free from ego and all bondages of conflicting strife
While great currents of bodily aspirations perpetually rise
The soul longs to capture the eternal heavenly prize
As desires come crowding like rising waves
To wrest dominion from them is what my soul craves
From all tumultuous passions, it wishes to stay free
Also, from all agonizing and enslaving thoughts, flee
Though life is one of crippling chaos, struggle, and pain
From adversities, soul strives to have everlasting gain
The pleasures of the body can only ensnare me
So, my soul, from all incarcerating passions, wishes to flee
It keeps a wish list like Love and Compassion to fill the breast
Also, Kindness, Thankfulness and Composure to calm me to rest
As the river seeks the sea, when life comes to its end,
I seek Thee my Lord and in you, my soul wishes to blend
Then in pure bliss and deep content, I will sing a joyous song
Freed from all sorrows that once throttled me in throng
Dec.17.2022
~ Placed First~
Our Soul’s Wish List Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Seeking Seeker
Summer is over and the farmer now rests from his toil,
Having labored hard to wrest his crops from the fruitful soil.
Fall has arrived and all the crops have been gathered in.
The corn, wheat and soy beans lie dormant in the granary bin.
It was a good year - his farm was favored with abundant rain.
Thankfully, there was no wind or hail, an anxious farmers' bane!
Pecks of onions, pertaters and carrots are preserved in the cellar,
Along with bushels of resplendent apples - golden, red and yeller!
The hogs are ready for market but he'll keep a pair for meat,
And he'll butcher a steer or so to ensure there's enough to eat.
His wife jammed mason jars full of beets, termaters and peas,
And there are a few honeycombs filched from the gullible bees!
He and the boys used crosscut saws to hew cords of wood for heating,
To warm their Victorian home from the winter's snows and sleeting.
There are jugs of cider to sip and ears of popping corn to pop,
As the family enjoys a roaring fire to reminisce with lore to swap!
The humble farmer was so grateful that on his knees he knelt,
To offer his gratitude to the Lord, a simple prayer most heartfelt.
A benevolent harvest moon smiled on the pastoral scene below,
Seemingly to bless the peaceful panorama with its mellow glow!
blue ruffles and suspenders,
twist ‘n tout
their quick step
intermingled with applause,
side to side smiles,
astute to wrest the audience.
choreography jacks
the core of seasoned judges,
up on their feet,
forbearing technique.
joy spreads
like a serendipitous meadow -
spring arrives,
verdant with faeries and butterflies,
honeysuckle and roses,
violets, the warm sun
of
baby’s breath-teeth
to tinker bell-tiptoes.
at final spin
contest won
by
fainting notes
of whim.
11/27/2020
Things bloom more beautiful when breaking down.
The nave now ploughs through foams of flowering trees,
a frozen caravel. Kissed by the breeze,
the river surface suddenly seems to frown
exquisitely. The apse’s jaunty crown
of weeds above one (sightless) eye would please
romantic poets. What was once a friese
lies strewn about, a shaley shanty-town.
We love whatever withers, atrophies.
To see a calked construction founder, drown
beneath its own detritus, by degrees
slough off its shape and, sinking to its knees,
expire, is satisfying. Velvet gown?
We’d much prefer to see a soiled chemise.
A lake? A cloud? A mountain? Megan Fox?
If we acknowledge Beauty in these things,
what are we saying? As when Smokey sings,
or girls emerge in slinky summer frocks,
something’s taking place outside the box
of regularity, and sprouting wings.
How might we classify these happenings?
A rupture in the norm? The whole Baroque’s
built on this very point. If Beauty rocks,
what is the special quality it brings,
and why is it so pleasing? Beauty flings
a spanner in the works of Orthodox,
and laughs at Workaday. It mocks
our essence, lurks in quirks, and smirks at clocks.
“The Wordsworth ouevre is cretinous. Discuss.”
The Long, Laborious Quest, The Sparrow’s Nest,
The Noble Oak of Guernica, Addressed –
We can’t escape the feeling he’s a wuss.
His subjects are unconscionable, plus
the rhymes he uses are a facilefest.
If only he were even half in jest!
His humour’s unintentional, and thus
more entertaining than he could have guessed.
Yet something in his scribblings seems to wrest
significance from dross, analogous
to Newton’s differential calculus,
invented by the by, at whim’s behest.
When Wordsworth falls apart, he’s at his best.
Imagine!
" Kind Words", revealed as piercing bands
of sunlight gently melting mist of morning dew.
Shredded strands of light appear blazing
through leaves blanketing forest deep.
Restrain bitter words that deny
the flourishing seed to yield its return.
Observe, we are better
when "Kind Words" are spoken.
When, from a painful sobering voice,
the soul beckons for repose.
No respect returned to break the moment in.
for where is the glory in it?
"Kind Words" cleanse!
Glory won in a word of kindness spoken.
Life, though as short as a breath,
needs no hand to uproot or wrest.
To labor upon ones crowded faults,
proves a shackle to blissful results.
"Kind Words", a gift for thee!
What weighs down this sandy wisp
between a bay and ocean is not
a causeway, not the press of footed towers,
nor the tread of bare and browning bathers
on its narrow, wet, khaki-colored beaches --
It is the weight of air, cloudless, clear
but heavy air -- blue in the depths --
that arches overhead; and it is the sizzle
of minor surf along the island's edges,
dampening sand, to stick upon the sea
like a licked stamp upon a letter.
The men, roads, and condos all may seem
to wrest control from nature and its weather;
but, we, who've spent some years here,
know better.
Thoughts on Citizenship day.
Frank Halliwell
Can you hear the trumpet fanfare?
And the crowd shouting "hooray"?
Cause they're making me a citizen
Down at the hall today!
Who will make the presentation?
Will it really be the ones
Who have the greatest claim on it,
Or those who had the guns...
To wrest it from those peaceful blacks
Who owned this ancient land
To make a place for criminals,
...The thief and the brigand!
But I'll front up for the paper
And attend the little bash
While the pollies in Canberra
Dip their fingers in the cash...
...And fly around the country
Visiting ficticious joints
While the Australian taxpayer
Funds their "frequent flyer" points!
"Matilda" always stirs my soul
A song without compare!
But I have reservations on
"Advance Australia where?"
But I love this land of blue skies
And I have for decades past,
And when the dealer calls my hand
It's here I'll breathe my last...
Where sparkling diamonds fill the night
And nothing dulls the gloss,
Of paradise in southern seas
Beneath the southern cross!
****
Black Pearl Pirate Ship versus Hurricane Bertha
August 9th 2014.
Liverpool was a mighty port
New Brighton stood by Perch Rock Fort
The Black Pearl sat on Wirral sands and stone
And against Hurricane Bertha stood alone
Bertha howled and shrieked anew
A massive wind that blew and blew
Waves and tides lashed at Black Pearl
But could not unseat this ungainly girl
Her wood and flotsam together held
As the hurricane's fury unfurled
And threw at her all that it had
But could not wrest Pearl from her pad
Earlier Pearls had sadly succumbed
To other winds and tides and storms
But this Black Pearl finally won
And Wirral's wonder remained undone
Noddy and his motley crew
Had taken precautions and had paid their due
And now as calm is once more restored
Everyone can get on board
Fix her up for all the kids to see
(From 2 years old to seventy)