Best Writes Poems

To those who think that poetry must be
of lofty things, not sensuality
To those who write of stars and sun and moon
and who to romance will not ever swoon

To those who write of angst and misery
of all that has gone wrong in history
To those who think...

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~words reflect ripples
~across a pond of dreaming
~syllables falter

 ~ ukiyo wabi-sabi
~ a thought feather floating down
~ haiku writes itself...

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`
And as 
she writes
her pen 
touches me
as I cry 
poetic tears
so that I 
may drench 
myself
in her
sorrow
so that she 
will not
have to
cry alone...

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The voice inside me writes, 
Every dawn with no reason nor cause,
Just wandering those hands down the page painted white, 
Singing the chorus of words, with no pause.

Every morning with no reason nor cause, 
When inspiration weaves like a thread into my brain, 
Singing the...

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...

        ~ so heavenly beautiful ~ I don't like it ~ makes my poems fade ~










04/01/2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Who Flips your Trolley Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Bobby May
Monoku : 16 syllables
2nd place in...

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Lost love gone
Pain found
An empty room
So many thoughts
So peaceful
So secret
A man scarred
Sits upon his bed
With a wand he writes
Lets it all hang out
A gift given
A way to express
He sits
Wonders about the future
Can he make it?
Show the world his inner self
Find love
Find happiness
Rejoice till life comes...

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So let me get this straight
(if I can use that word
in a totally non-offensive way)

Jack and Jill now get bottled water
Delivered.

Little Bo Peep
Keeps her sheep on leash
And cleans up after them.

The Three Billy Goats Gruff
And the troll
Play Bridge

The Ugly Duckling
Can no longer identify
As a Swan

Hansel...

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The calico cat sat firmly 
on my quill.
I commanded she get off,
it was my will!

She slanted her green eyes
and hissed.
Here, sat a fierce feline poet, 
demanding her poem not be 
dismissed.

So, I slunk quietly into my
kitchen.
What could a cat write, what
am I missing?

Ater a spot...

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needs no introduction
nor permission  
to be anything.  
He does not request  
to spread his arms wide  
and reach the heavens.  
His words are unmoored.  
They flow and change,  
remaking things  
before the world sees them.  
His...

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The delicate breath of hiraeth,
encroaches upon my quill, 
beyond the water’s edge,                                 ...

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Some days you're thrown an I just don't know
Other days it's all right there
A glimmer of hope in which to cope
A fresh breath of poetic air

A constant loop as the dial slowly moves
In its never ending search for the truth
Some days you write the poem...

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A WRITER WRITES, THAT'S WHAT THEY DO.
THAT'S THE WAY THEY EXPRESS THEMSELVES.
THEY LIVE, THEY LOVE, THEY WRITE, THEY DIE.
LATER THEIR GREATEST WORKS ARE FOUND ON OLD SHELVES.

A WRITER WRITES. THAT'S WHAT HE DOES. 
HIS LIFE AND HIS DREAMS MUST BE TOLD,
MUST BE SHARED AND PASSED...

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He writes of love…
of friends…
of family…
and he is the first one to concede…
not because they are all he has
but because they are all he needs....

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Woken from a sound sleep
listening to the walls breathe
sense something new on the cusp
of my imagination island
ears perking up
feel like I am not alone

hear the last five words of a poem
ideas flickering from my bowels
living poetry is difficult
loving poetry easier
I know a spirit guide is...

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Cornelius was a linguist, not a poet -
though his ego was much too large to know it.
After penning a traditional Japanese tanka,
regarding the policies of la casa blanca,
he realized his multicultural poetry - though raw
in meter and message - lacked a certain je ne sais...

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