Long Impressively Poems
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Thoughtlessly formed and impressively spoken
by a naive and dreamy-eyed youth,
they floated and billowed until they collided
with an ugly reminder called truth.
Then, overwhelmed by superior power,
they plummeted wildly to earth.
Victims of time and demands of the real world,
they failed to establish their worth.
What does a middle-aged dream-maker do
when his last youthful fantasy dies?
He worries and labors, complains, and wipes teardrops,
dreams new dreams, and watches them rise.
This time, more aware of reality's boundaries,
he'll plan more and lower the skies.
July 30, 2020
entered in the Completely New (15) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
From when we leave the womb, said Freud (or Jung),
until the day we die, life's one long try
to climb back in. That cold air hits our lungs
with such a shock, we cannot help but cry.
Her name was Pina. She could twirl her skirt
impressively. One evening, home alone,
twirling her nylon nightdress, unalert,
she caught the flames. That fireplace was a zone
forbidden her, but how could she resist
the warmth and light the gaping chasm offered?
The fabric wrinkled, melted, shriveled, hissed
and bunched between her thighs. She must have suffered.
A young, bewildered altar boy back then,
I watched her mother rage and rail and rave,
unhinged by grief. It took six burly men
to hold her back from leaping in the grave.
At his wedding Arthur received
a magnificent round table, he was pleased
From king Leodegrances of cameliard
graciously covered, impressively carved
As time went by Arthur decreed
twenty four men that would up heed
He made them knights and brothers to him
to keep the laws and not to sin
Twenty four knights, gallant and steady
to serve their king and country, ready
They sat round the table with one another
each one loving their fellow brother
One knight caught Arthur’s eye
his combat skills, extremely high
He made him his champion knight
Sir Lancelot, who relished the fight
The knights became so well known
throughout Briton, throughout Rome
There fame spread around the globe
to foreign countries they all rode
Slaying dragons and fighting battles
their missions heard, with deathly rattles
At Mount Badon their glorious victory
defeating the Saxons, the rest is history
Now the people had peace here in Briton
but the knights became unsettled and ridden
So at mystic Merlin’s magical suggestion
Arthur listened and didn’t question
They sent the knights on a crusade
to the Holy land where they all prayed
In search of the Holy Grail
which became a wondrous tale
The roman Emperor was so impressed
with Arthur’s army and religious quest
And after a lot of talk and fighting
gave him the western half of Europe, in writing
Queen Guinevere had fallen for Sir Lancelot
he returned her favours quite a lot
He tried hard to control his heart
but his love grew strong from the start
Poor Arthur did not know
until his nephew Mordred, told him so
© Copyright 28th December 2010 K.C.Leake
O, dear poetry, how old are you?
give me a glimpse, The Story of Sinuhe
the art just might predate literacy,
before the birth of the written word, BCE
Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor the eldest fictious
the Epic of Gilgamesh on papyrus
the world’s oldest love poems, verselets
Homer’s ancient epics
Compositions made for spoken word
I finally found out from all I’ve heard
what my dear poetry means to me
the love of artistic lyrical spontaneity
learning of words using them expressively
or impressively, excessively, whatever it takes
with poetic license, there are no mistakes
Works that lead to electric elucidation
with rhythmic flow, meter and alliteration
my primo priority is; my poem pieces make sense,
with rhyme and my love for classic cadence
having the quality of amatory ambiguity,
steered adrift with ominous obscurity
strapping images of suggestive metaphors
I’ll write to inspire as do the troubadours…..
REPRESENTATION of REALITY
facing
heightened awareness
patterns
embellished
in
opulent possessions
& sumptuous attire
with
no constraints
a contemporary
accessory
in a draped
costume
tronie like
in faithful reflections
manipulated &explicit
depicted
impressively
engraved
merging
personality
in a monumental
significance
of
mature
manners
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
"In times of need, the devil eats flies", an old folk wisdom, shared by Anne-Lise Andresen
Praise the frog who croaks on high,
whose legs propel him to the sky,
who sticks his tongue out at a fly -
praise the frog who croaks on high.
* Updated to reflect Gray Squirrel's sage insight
Mourn the fly who didn't praise
the frog who impressively displays
a tongue that darts out cruel death rays.
Mourn the fly who didn't praise.
* Updated to reflect Paula Goldsmith's sound sentiment
Celebrate the man who eats in peace,
free from buzzing which wouldn't cease.
Pay the frog a dollar for each.
Celebrate the man who eats in peace.
* Updated to reflect Anne-Lise's apt aphorism
Pity poor devils who must eat flies
when their pantries lack supplies.
Frogs are devils, say six-legged guys.
Pity poor devils who must eat flies.
* This addition, verbatim, from Beryl Edmonds (does this mean we need to be nervous when we eat at her house?)
Abhor the woman who made stew
Out of moose and liquorish juice
The kids got sick of course
Hubby went for divorce
She was happy out on the loose.
~ Beryl
* Inspired by CayCay Jennings's eloquent enquiry
Party down, poets, is this a joke?
These poems writ by just one bloke.
Except for Beryls' holy smoke!
Party down, poets, is this a joke?
* Inspired by the awesome advice of Gershon Wolf
Collaborate with friends the world around.
You don't need a mind that's sound.
Can we even hunt with that hound?
Collaborate with friends the world around.
April decorates Nature
with snowy festivity...
to resemble a season so wintry;
will the unwelcome snow head for the shore?
The very disappointed skies gleam unpleasantly,
and the saturated earth weeps in agony;
who commanded the wrath of the tempest...
when winter supposed to be laid to rest?
The snow's showers cover the budding hills
quicker than the gelid rain of winter;
far and away...hope is illusory and brief,
and the questioning mind deflects its early coming!
Does this season have a late beginning,
or is it caused by an unknown factor?
April has smothered winter and hasn't protected
the trees, flowers and plants from frost;
almost everything has perished in its ferocious course,
and the desperate farmer deplores an harvest so scarce!
Inside is so cozy and warm, the gusty wind
is heard through the fireplace that retains the heat
of the crackling logs underneath;
some folks cherish moments like these!
April decorates Nature
quite beautifully and impressively;
brutally or unfairly...
it becomes an inevitable rapture!
E nchanted by the elements, Goddess Earth excitedly
A rises, anticipating all her awe-inspiring artistry;
R eveling in the rapture of the rivers’ ripples or roses’ rare redolence;
T antalizing us with her talent for turning out utter transformations.
H er heart holds hues of happiness!
R obust and rosy-cheeked, she rambles,
A dorning arms of trees with amethysts in spring and apples in autumn.
D ancing from dawn to dusk and back to dawn,
I nstinctively and impulsively, she illuminates with imagery - in
A nd out and all about, she ambles ardently.
N ever endingly, this nimble nymph
C apriciously creates - combing sky with clouds and coaxing colors onto canyons,
E xuberantly and effortlessly embracing all of earth’s expanse effulgently.
R iding rainbows or rapids; rending rocks when riled, she regulates and replenishes.
I nherently and impressively imaginative, she is invaluable in
D auntlessly and dulcetly delighting with dazzling display.
E arth, who exhales exquisite breath, may your radiance ride be everlasting!
An Anagram poem!
Philippines is in great danger right now
I sense deceitfulness and betrayal here
My leader is feeling great and proud
It seems everything is in control
He's doubling the greatness of his father
Not in economy, infrastructures or legacy
But in name shame, ill public trust issues
Unabated corruption, nepotism and drug addiction
I sense police suppression, abuse of power
Rampant human right violation in highlight
People are not blind to see leader's fallibility
Of course not, my leaders have their heydays
Powerful, untouchable in its high evil ways
I feel if people react on the street with rages
It's easy to declare a National emergency
Put it in heightened red alert to the extreme
Declaring force the state to Martial Law
Which is patterned to his Father's declaration
Much worse undeclared but under silent Marx rule.
World Leaders are looking my country terribly
With judgment under craziness and maligning
Is my leader sane or in moron condition
I hope not but very impressively foolish to say
It's not even normal to say they're in demon possession
I sense there's no living justice system here
As if the 3 government branches are colluding
When our former leaders are deprive their rights
What's the protection of the laws for the lowly
Where would my people go in case of chaos
Hope China, US and Russia would help us
What would happen to my country this time
What if my people fight and find peace by revolt
Where would my family, my friends, and my kin go
Who do we turn to but God Almighty for prayer
Would there be sacrificial lamb to appease rage
Where would be another hero to unite my people
Would there be civil war to make this country unite
Would there be division among regions be made
Think my leader where which to find solution
Think my people what kind of country we want to be.
Burly men hauled her onto a fishing village beach.
She was rotund, impressively pump,
it took a while.
Her proportions made her ideally suited
for floating on her back
though she hardly had ever did.
Groups of curious onlookers gathered.
We all waited for a marine biologist
or coroner to arrive.
Surprisingly her fish tail was graceful
some peered closely to see if there
was a seam or a theme park logo anywhere.
No such clues could be found.
She was, they all agreed, the real deal.
Unfortunately she was beginning to smell.
Some posited that the recent sea-bottom drilling
for off-shore windmills had disturbed the eco-environment
of this part of the coastline.
Whales had turned up dead, sharks were seen belly up
and clueless. People were stumped.
It was a big topic around these parts.
Soon the small crowd drifted away,
many had fish wives of their own, and about now
they would be gutting and cleaning mackerel.
Myths are hard to keep fresh,
in this case buckets of ice were employed
as she was carted off to market.