Creatively Poems | Examples

She Herself

She was always careful
Don't be too stupid 
But don't think too much
She should find something
Something that makes her heart beat
Maybe makes her think creatively
Just something to shake her a bit
But she has to be herself
And this is the best she can be

© Poem – XXIII/VIII/MMXXV
LRET

Divine Fantasy Toward Reality

Awesome imagination midst freedom delight
Blooms along my dream of divine light      
Creatively ruled by wisdom’s insight
Directing me toward heavenly flight
Enthralled by fantasy venture flight
Featuring faith’s reverie of wondrous sight
Grandeur and perfection, devoid of whimsy blight
Hoisting up hope, defying hallucination plight
Inspired upon radiating illumination might
Jubilantly revealing reality of truth and right
Kindness of the King Almighty beaming day and night
Love so great magnified yon visualization height. 

June 26, 2025
3rd place, "Fantasy" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 6/26/2025

Art And Loving

Tendency is, to apportion 
Love:

like slices of iced sweet
at a party

braying festive, 2 playful swipes 
at a swinging, loaded donkey

(not the husband this time)

toffee for the dear loyal mate -- 

allotment of love, for precious children;

for all our Prayer-family, appealed
a canopy of blessed shade, like that 
bible gourd,

cat and dog needing, also,
some petting reward – no special
reason...just because -- 

to the poet, as with painter,
superseding costume body of flesh, 
art is voice-echo and representative
image

one's deeper beating sentient part

ventricle tools, the writing pad, the brush...

more poignant the words,
broader the expansive, lyrical stroke:
ruled paper or mystifying canvas~ the soul,
       a bottomless well from which to
                                     creatively 
                                        draw
fluid destinies

for controlled dabbing

abundant dashing-splashing

spirit-inspired

awesomely appealing
          
saturating pour --

Does Confidence Look Good On Me

A Reflection stares back at me,

looking into the mirror,

Satisfied with what I see.

The One I grew to be,

This loving entity,

In a confused society.

Living creatively,

Subjectively,

Searching for me.

Changing this reality,

To reflect what I see,

As I strive to be free.

The highest version of me,

Chivalry and morality,

Honesty my best Quality.

Energy running rampantly,

Serving our Society,

Rushing quietly.

A rising of integrity,

integrates politely,

Showing a new way to be.

Perceptions of purity,

Moving through many,

It's affecting Humanity.

A reflection I see,

Staring back at me,

Our race in unity.

Embracing our beauty,

Reacting differently,

Rising confidently.

Living life intensely,

Enjoying it immensely,

And YOU are the Key.

So here I will be,

Waiting patiently,

A reflection proud to BE.

What is it that showing me?

What is it that you are showing me?

I saw a scene on the news:
Someone “powerful”
has been disrespectful
to someone in need.

Many emotions came to the surface
for the first time
I didn’t get caught up.
I just watched.

What is it that you are showing me?
I want to go deeper
See behind the story
Can I see myself reflected?

All stories
are fractals
of my own stories
in the end.

I could be
I have been
each of the characters
the victim, the witch, the princess…

Could I also be
the creator or the director?
Not just a lost actor
who doesn’t know he’s acting.

Learning to see from the outside
Reading between the lines
Looking for the lesson
Participating creatively.

Beautiful in Name

Omoge Ewa, bi oruko re tiri beni oju re tiri.
This name of yours is a true validation of how the creator has creatively created you.

Skin smooth and sleek like the finest of silks.
Eyes so precise with no excess or insufficience.

Your smiles? gosh,
 the most beautiful sight that debunks the  priceless view of sunset.

Your walk and carriage; 
so feminine and elegant.

You're a beauty that delights men of various sizes and heights.
Orekelewa omoge ewa, let this valentine be ours for the loving.

Glenn Hughes on ABC

Acoustic Beauty.
Creatively Dazzles Every Friend.
Glenn Hughes Is Joyously Kind.
Laughter Must Now Open Performances.
Quietness Renders Soft Tenderness.
Until Violins Whisper Xylophone Yellow Zest

WATCH OUT LITTLE EARS ABOUT

My son, I love very much, so strict with me,
No name or photo of my little gem, there be,
My granddaughter, two years, January first,
My pride, my love, heart to burst,
But what I heard made me say hee, hee, hee.

Christmas day we spent with the whole family,
Our bundle of joy dressed so very creatively,
An Elf in red, dressed by her mother,
Dressed in red also was another,
Her little cousin, only a year, looked a honey.

The dogs allowed in enjoying fallen food on the floor,
No begging allowed or out the door,
Her mummy said, Dudley, don’t dare *hit
All happy, laughed at her wit,
And our two-year-old sponge, also laughed galore.

Hearing all and talking well, ready to turn the page,
Giggled and entered the conversation at this stage,
Mummy says Dudley *hits,
We all collapsed into fits
Of laughter, a hilarious outburst at two years of age.

POWER

Power
Your ability 
Not to be abused
But to be used
Productively 
Creatively and positively.

Knowledge 
Is power 
Learn a craft 
Not witchcraft 
To possess
What belongs to others.

Power very deceitful 
Don't let it ruin you
But reign you
Into victory not tyrant
Glorifying your maker
He who bestowed it unto you.

Contradicting darkness

I sit here in this darkness, this place that feels so raw. Where the world is falling down around me and I feel I just cant take this anymore. 

yet here is a contradiction, that this place i sit with a life of pain inside me… it also brings me a feeling of openness and honesty and a place where I feel creatively free. If it were not for this you would not see inside of me. 

This dark place is where I can openly speak the thousands of words tumbling around and feel un judged. Unspoken words and repressed feelings, thoughts and un dealt with meanings. Shame, sadness, pain and torment, all released from their heavily shackled cage, to surface and relieve me of the tormented painful rage. Every time I feel this way I am my most creative at least in words. So this place you see as dark is something I cannot give up, for you will not see my inside heart.

Of Impermanence

Constructed, casting a common customary cornerstone
Sublime, super-strong skyscrapers successfully survive
Like many other matters, aren't these too destruction-prone?
They break and fall, partially or wholly, like a beehive.

Composed creatively; catchy; captivating; classic
Mysteriously melodious; maddens many minds.
Wafts in waves as each notation of it is dynamic
Which music, yet, perpetually its prominence finds?

Doesn't the bright sun withhold its vigour in the evening?
Doesn't the waxing moon gradually find its wane too?
Doesn't each flower that blooms fade, having lost its gleaming?
Isn't, like summer or winter, the fall too season's due?

Anyone ascending a ladder should descend as well.
If there's a merry marriage bell, shouldn't there be a knell?

Ure Apprehensively Mine

Ure my chemical imbalance tipping the scales
Ure the voice shouting leaving me pale
Ure the fright in the middle of a soulless night
Ure broken glass on the sidewalk
Ure cuts thru my shoes while u mock
Ure poetry in motion with nausea
Ure incurable when I wanna be done dotta
Ure an audio clip on a permanent loop
Ure the scandal rag with a crappy scoop
Ure rinse and repeat without a cleanse
Ure finite resources thru a single lens
Ure the reason for recurring work in progress
Ure my daily dose of fogginess
Ure the vacuum of perpetual thoughts
Ure the story who cannot be bought
Ure the constant double edge sword
Ure responsible for striking a chord
Ure the force I try so hard to counter with good
Ure responsible for me being misunderstood
Ure my nemesis and friend all the same
Ure the one enabling me to be creatively insane

No pills, no frills, just terrifying numbness followed by troubling relaxations
A pattern of chills trying not to succumb to this rollercoaster of varying sensations

Copyright © Christopher Delegans 2023

If it Wasn't For Poetry

If it wasn’t for poetry, where would I be today?
I would not have developed nearly as many friendships
as I have in the last 24 years since starting out as a poet.
In making friends with lovely fellow poets,
I have gained insights into their lives,
have been moved by them, and have learned from them.
Thanks to many of my dear poet friends,
I have improved my skills in the writing of forms
which never could I have fathomed 
having written in my youth!

Also, I would never have felt the sweet thrill of success
from mentoring others after being mentored myself,
from being published and having created poems
which were appreciated by others.
In addition, I enjoy exercising my mind
and feeling confident in my writing skills today.
Though there is little money in it, and though
I will never make a name for myself like Poe or Frost did,
It’s fun and fulfilling to express feelings and ideas creatively.
My life has been enriched by my becoming a poet.

- When the Sun Goes Down -

         Embellished by the artist's
         softest marten hairbrush
         unfolds creatively on the canvas
         The view that takes your breath away
         when the evening sun is
         curved on the edge of the earth
         - in the magic hour
         Nature's beauty is on full display

         It is something exceptional
         at every sunset
         Notice how the heavens
         and the sea is changing
         From yellow, orange and pink
         - to purple and intense red
         Gracefully and powerful
         Full of wonder I breathed deeply in silence
         observes and appreciates the work of art

Academy

I went to school to try and find
new ways to write creatively.
Professors challenged my young mind
with homework drills approved by the
Academy.

Postmodernism ruled the day.
No metered rhymes were ever heard-
such verse considered "too passé".
Creative Writing profs preferred 
some obscure word.

The free verse that I wrote while there
was abstract, cynical, rhyme-free,
sophisticated, debonair.
The one flaw in such poetry -
it wasn't me.

With time, I learned to find my voice - 
words forming my biography.
I write in styles that suit my choice,
not those of some Academy
of poetry.

written 22 July 2023

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