Long Handsomest Poems
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A madman pushed me off the track, lucky not much harm
I sat in the Hospital waiting room with just a broken arm.
They handed me a form to fill, 20 genders, 10 types of race -
I tore the sheet with my good arm and walked out of that place.
I walked past a park, a man dropped a syringe, gave me a stare
I walked past a crazy woman preaching to the air.
I walked past teens speaking to their phones but not each other.
Saw expressions I couldn’t read - an enemy or a brother?
I remembered the in-crowd whose moral sight was blind
I wanted to leave their dubious fads behind
I walked past the demonstrators, their justice leads to blood:
We may need a Noah's ark from the oncoming flood.
I walked along the Palisades, the river on my right.
I perked up because the old roads, the boat basins came in sight.
I jogged on the Long Path, crossing Bergen County, then Rockland too.
Turned inland and ended up in a children's petting zoo.
There were the black hats - Jews of a Hasidic sect.
I spoke with one woman; she looked at me with undeserved respect.
It was a change from the jaded people I often met
Wondered what the secret was, is a religious way correct?
Those Jews might not surf the internet, they might not watch TV.
And when they move en masse into a town they spark animosity.
But what struck me there was something clean and true.
As she pointed out the exotics in that petting zoo.
Since then I've been to Lancaster, where the Amish live an older way
That lifestyle has its drawbacks too, there are always shades of gray.
I've visited Salt Lake, where Mormons spurn drugs for recreation
A visitor described them as the handsomest in the nation.
I like my way of life, but other ways make me think
Do we really need social media, or drugs, an evening drink?
Would we be better people, if some things we didn't know?
Should we stand against the current, or go with culture's flow?
Do we really need the likes, the scroll that never ends?
Can we stop and read a while, or try to make real friends?
Can we set anchor in a place where lies don’t get through?
Can we cure our sick republic, retain what’s proven true?
Precious Angel...
as you are...
moments in life with you...
tis an Honor...
to behold your Loving Treasures...
tis as you've given unto me...
such tender-loving kiss's...
that sweep gently..
caressing my cheek..
expressing emotions
tis within your heart..
softly whispering..
sweet-treasures of love...
beholding unto my heart..
tis as deeepens my love for you...
beyond measure..
gracefully given..
back unto sweet-treasures..
my love to you
Precious heart... tis be..
as you enter the room...
as I see... most handsomest man...
a True Treasures tis be...
as you come asking me for my hand to dance...
as I say unto thee..
Softly.. Yes...
as you gently take my hand...
and we slowly move towards the ballroom floor...
then you turn unto me... gazing.. lovingly into my eyes..
As I into yours..
As you bring me closer unto your heart..
Embracing.. Treasures of love...
~as we sway.. to the music..
Tenderly-beholding..
each other close..
as warmth of your loving heart..
tis next to mine..
our hearts beating closely..
as our love intertwines..
tis as you sweetly whisper..
within my ear... ...
~as your true colors extend out
such Radiant light..
tis beholds love..
at first glance...
ever so handsome..
beautiful treasure...
as music plays..
"You are More"...
our Treasures in light..
beholding each other tight..
as Love entwines.. our hearts...
here on line..
only if.. tis could be...
Treasures of our hearts of Truth...
manifest more in reality...
then expressions of deep love within.. each other..
time... to begin.. another dance..
of sweetness..
our Love bearing truth..
~as tis be a token of Love...
as Roses are Red...
tis your beautiful beyond.. ...
any words said..
sweetness of love in air...
as the music plays...
as our hearts beat as one...
given in love..
all tis under our heavenly Father's son..
as moments of bliss...
tis taken with True-loves first kiss...
beholding Treasures in Midst
Form:
I, (though ye feel averse associating
with birth father) attest,
perhaps undeserving your vicariously quest
regaling, surmounting, and triumphing
storied Penn ultimate academic conquest
affirms his pride and joy at
stellar success no credit to this beastliest
inept papa, who winces with tragicomic,
woe how animosity toward me increased
smoldering rage at actual/
perceived paternal transgressions,
and do not expect to receive forgiveness
within your wounded breast,
but please allow this opportunity
to suspend any smarting rancorous
loathing, and bitterest
emotions that still sting from deep
seated psychological wounds
indelibly piercing chest
within eldest daughter,
whose unconditional boundless love
spurs whim to express
optimism at Edenic future blest
with praiseworthy largesse of commendable
laudatory, and noteworthy brainiest
accomplishments driven by ambition,
doggedness, perseverance, cleverest
ploy, plus revulsion emotionally costliest
psyche rent asunder courtesy yours truly,
he will not challenge, nor counterprotest
thee, asper his (i.e. mine) crassest
peccadillos, and significant damnedest
accursed personal weaknesses thee detest,
and unintentionally unpleasantly
impacted impressionable offspring, I dust
regret, and thus
figurative figleaf extended
without any expectations, though earnest
sincerity to accept culpability, asper
your anger, animosity, antipathy
maybe ranked as evilest
person on Earth, nonetheless,
and perhaps futile attempt feeblest
against affecting, sans fondest
best wishes despite scathing foulest
faux pas, I abhor lament ghastliest
inflicted upon an innocent progeny,
whose truevalue impossible grandest
to assess preciousness bestowed,
and wisdom proffered as biological guest,
now on her way to glory with handsomest
eminent beau linkedin heading toward happiest
days awaiting as ye embark
on destination unknown - honest!
He left home to pursue his lifetime dream,
it was closer to midnight and the foggy moon had no gleam;
I saw him rushing out to the taxi-cab by dragging his luggage,
all the while he thought he could manage.
His name was Glen, six feet tall with light brown hair...
the handsomest guy in town with elegance and flair;
he drove all the girls crazy, but sad was to see him go...
they all waited for him outside as he fled into tomorrow.
He worked for a law firm in downtown Manhattan,
and won many cases getting him lots of praises;
he bought a Lamburghini and was considered the toast of town,
but to keep up his status quo he needed more money to pay those bills.
Alaska was his destination, no big deal for a white man
used to cold weather and hard work anywhere he went;
stereotype or not he was proud and really wanted that job,
but going out to sea and catch fish wasn't somehow odd?
Glen spent two years in the land of coyotes and bears,
too often he got frostbite for not covering his ears;
his fair skin turned red, his green eyes teared...
as he remembered all the things his mother feared.
Money kept coming in, but his health wasn't as vibrant...
he coughed a lot and sneezed when the harsh Nordic wind blew
as he dreamed of his warm home while mom cooked beef stew;
many thoughts ran through his depressed mind, once so jubilant.
On May eleven of two thousand ten when the Northern Sea didn't rage,
he received a text message, " Mother is sick, hurry home. "
He changed his work clothes, took a shower and went to Anchorage
to take the next plane to New York City as noise harmed his lobe.
By her hospital bed, he stood holding her cold hand,
and he wept not able to hold back his tears,
" I am back, mom...I'll make up for those lost years. "
She squeezed his rough hand, then suddenly expired.
Tonight my sweetheart shook his head
As fortune cookie note was read
A baffled look; his countenance
"How do I take this? Makes no sense!"
He read it out to understand, that little
slip held in his hand...
"You're as intelligent as you're good looking..."
He paused a second, I could tell that
phrase was really cooking
Then glibly, in his satire, he gave that
slip a flip
He rephrased the cookie's fortune,
A misfortune quip...
"That could mean I'm ugly,
As Ugly as I'm dumb!"
He threw the cookie in the trash
And swept away the crumbs
I found the slip of paper
That message was quite grand
I'm thinking he's the smartest guy
In all the blessed Land!
And so the little fortune
Has grasped me in an awe
To me, he is the handsomest
Dear man, I ever saw!
Sometimes the only solace to loneliness
is the fading photographs around me...
many pictures in black and white, some of them
are in albums, some on the wall - in ornate
frames, which I would never replace!
The oxidized metal carries the aroma of the past,
Pictures speak to us, aloneness dissipates!
The picture of my mom and dad
on their wedding day…the beaming bride in a red saree
and the shining gold jewellery adorning her,
my dad looked the handsomest man I have ever seen,
and chivalrous...even now they take my breath away!
A picture of the family together
with young and old - my elderly grandparents,
when they settled in a new country,
with hopes and dreams in their eyes...
protecting members of an uprooted clan,
perhaps the nostalgia and uncertainties lurk -
behind the longing for the land they had left overnight!
The most precious photograph in my life
is the picture of my mother’s father...
who I never met, except in this painting…
but in my tender moments I dreamed about him !
A dazzling man on a horse, to me a knight in armour,
who passed away tragically in his prime…
Each one of these photographs present
a story of courage, and love, and determination…
which were the traits they
passed on to their children, and the future
generations! The photographs are the
witnesses of a glorious past, a past which
manifested the history of struggle and victory.
Photographs get faded,
History does not!
Many people look into the mirror,
and only see their imperfections...
I have mine and laugh about them;
when famous people go under the knife,
surgeons get rich and to them they bow.
Why perfection is so sought after today?
Not all are born beautiful, some are born deformed,
and those are the ones who shouldn't be happy;
others abuse their bodies in horrendous ways,
and ignore the importance of being loved.
A pop star did just that, and he went to the extremes
to change the color of his skin to look like someone else;
he should have been proud and satisfied of how he looked!
I wasn't the handsomest guy, but somehow a miracle occurred:
I had an in-depth analysis and I felt truly beautiful!
Society creates the perfect images of famous individuals worldwide,
they become their own gods, not feeling the importance of being loved,
they look pretty from the outside, but deep down they're slowly dying;
why resemble models who are put on a starvation diet to look good
on fashion shows in Milan, Paris and New York...have they gone insane?
Reflect on your life with careful consideration, find the hidden beauty
that each one of us possess, not neglecting the importance of being loved;
have you ever noticed children how they mingle...how they love one another?
Do they see any of the defects in their bodies, or point out their differences?
Certainly not, they amuse themselves and playing they feel beautiful!
Laura Tonon was her name, at the new school my only true friend per se
Astonishingly she’d taken to me, offered to help with my English every day
Unwavering was her big confident smile, even taught me a bit of Italian astray
Rich, she had two of the handsomest brothers, Carlos and Diego who played croquet
Although only in grade five, she amazed me with a poem she’d written one day
DIEGO
In deep concentration
He sat there,
Pondering.
His brows wrinkled
Like waves rolling across the sea
In slow rhythm.
From his lungs, the breath
Came and went,
Escaped and entered.
How I envy him
Endowed with the gift of patience.
-Laura Tonon 1974
Thinking back, it was my first introduction to the power of poetry
Obviously I was impressed, truly amazed and I got hooked instantly
Needed to learn to walk before I run, so worked on improving my vocabulary
Only a few years later t’was when I took to the pen inspired by my mentor’s memory
Nothing I’d love more than to meet up again with the old soul in that little prodigy
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on October 16, 2017 for contest POEM WITHIN A POEM sponsored by BRENDA CHIRI
With pleasure Margarita's mind agreed
with mother's nice suggestion asking leave
of Arracho and oily ways indeed.
Bad rubbish needs good riddance she'll believe.
Margarita liked the idea of father riding to La Paloma with Don Huerra
freeing her of his presence. In happiness she said, "Who's handsomest
man in all Peralta, father? It's you! Who's best rider in all California?
Again, father, it's you. Go see your ship, talk to your captain. Mother
and I'll see to things while you're gone."
Don Jose smiled at her new exuberance. "If the horse's right," he said
with decision, "I'll ride."
Segundo arrived with the surrey and twin bays. Don Huerra spoke.
"You'll drive the ladies home, Segundo, then come meet us at the harbor
later. His Excellency and I ride to La Paloma. He'll use your horse. Will
Bravo behave , amigo?"
Segundo removed his sombrero in respect. Lowering his eyes he said, "I
think Alcalde can ride any horse he wants, Patron. I've seen him in the ring
with bulls and bears. His reata never misses. If I may mention on one thing,
Patron -----------."
"What is it, Segundo," Don Huerra asked somewhat impatiently. "What do
you want to tell us?"
"Only this, Patron, Bravo's mouth's tender and he's headstrong at times."
With pleasure Margarita's mind agreed
with mother's nice suggestion asking leave
of Arracho and oily ways indeed.
Bad rubbish needs good riddance she'll believe.
Margarita liked the idea of father riding to La Paloma with Don Huerra
freeing her of his presence. In happiness she said, "Who's handsomest
man in all Peralta, father? It's you! Who's best rider in all California?
Again, father, it's you. Go see your ship, talk to your captain. Mother
and I'll see to things while you're gone."
Don Jose smiled at her new exuberance. "If the horse's right," he said
with decision, "I'll ride."
Segundo arrived with the surrey and twin bays. Don Huerra spoke.
"You'll drive the ladies home, Segundo, then come meet us at the harbor
later. His Excellency and I ride to La Paloma. He'll use your horse. Will
Bravo behave , amigo?"
Segundo removed his sombrero in respect. Lowering his eyes he said, "I
think Alcalde can ride any horse he wants, Patron. I've seen him in the ring
with bulls and bears. His reata never misses. If I may mention on one thing,
Patron -----------."
"What is it, Segundo," Don Huerra asked somewhat impatiently. "What do
you want to tell us?"
"Only this, Patron, Bravo's mouth's tender and he's headstrong at times."