Long Spade a spade Poems
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Love’s Fatality
Love is a fickle partner
One moment it is deep like the color of a red rose
The next it is melancholy like a faded yellow lily
For the slightest interpretation of the mind
Can render it to be trivial almost useless
Inevitably time will find fissures in the walls of life
These become cracks that cannot be mended
Good intentions are mere bandages to a wound
That will not close
Slowly but surely like the wilting of a flower
The inevitable occurs
Best to remove any ill will afore it spreads
Like a cancer run amok
To call a spade a spade
Before the pain becomes too great
Love lost is better than none found
This is the plague that follows us all
Andreas Simic©
Oops, silly me! I do apologize for believing
most of my adult life that marriage is...
a sacred union of two souls. That it's between...
two people. Just two!
Is there a bigger insult to the institution?
If one exists, could someone please enlighten me?
What's the point of marrying someone
you don't want to fully commit to?
It couldn't be more peculiar. An open marriage
is not a marriage. It's an excuse to continue...
sowing wild oats. An excuse for commitment-phobes
to keep playing the field, to keep bed-hopping
Why would any self-respecting individual stay
in such marriage? If it can be called a "marriage"
To call a spade a spade, it's more like...
Open adultery!
Date written: 06/20/2019
To submit or to quit, that is the question!
Let’s call a spade a spade, not to be rude,
Some contests’ stipulations are quite crude,
It’s time to learn from errors of the past
And slam the needy judges’ tricks at last.
Don’t get me wrong, to challenges I stand
With my poetic musing on demand,
Yet reading contest rules, thorough and deep,
Oft my quivering quill begins to weep.
While my head spins and ink’s eager to spill
I begin to doubt if I ever will -
Weave thoughts to words together on the theme
Upon the requisitions of extreme.
I do eulogize the creative sense
Of judges’ hopes from our mighty pens,
Just don’t impede too hard on muse in use,
Let the great meandering minds run loose.
Last not least, what truly boils my bile -
When it’s a must to add a YouTube file,
First open the link, then share to embed,
By then my literary mind’s brain-dead.
Sensing a threat, move not a bit
Work not with a fear of failure in mind
Take not anything for granted
Accept not ever your defeat, untried
Try something new, ignoring routines
Smile more, the whole world smiles with you
Life is a progressive vehicle
Solutions are not found readymade
Live a happy and blissful life
Hope is the secret of survival
Line 1: Wait Not For a Hero
Line 2: Oasis in a Desert
Line 3: Goodbyes Play Their Part
Line 4: Call a Spade a Spade
Line 5: Letter to My Children
Line 6: Spreading Happiness
Line 7: Think For a While
Line 8: Face It
Line 9: A Kiss in the dark
Line 10: Hope
Walk with me my Love
Beneath the summer sun
Talk with me my Love
Until the evening's done.
Stay with me my Love
Though all my youth be fled
Stay with me my Love
Please come and share my bed.
With you alone I chose to spend my life
Through all its many years.
'Tis you alone I'd have for wife
To share its joys and tears.
Let's call a spade a spade
All cards upon the table.
Live by the rules we made
The best that we are able.
Tomorrow's sun may bring Anything
Or perhaps nothing at all.
Listen close enough and angels sing
As summer raindrops fall.
Laugh with me my Love
Stars shining on your face.
Dance with me my Love
Within the night's embrace.
A raven sits in withered tree
Shall we stop to hear him croak?
What of him to you or me
Tomorrow is yet smoke.
Dream with me my Love
In the fading morning's dark.
Scheme with me my Love
In time we'll make our mark.
The bells within the chapel ring
Read words writ on a wall.
Snowgeese gather on the wing
As winter raindrops fall.
Play with me my Love
Singing in the rain.
Smile with me my Love
Begone all present pain.
Live with me my Love
Until we both grow old.
Sleep with me my Love
My shelter from the cold.
I'm all right now what I might be
With your love in my defense.
We face a thousand mysteries
This life makes little sense.
We face what ere the future brings
We heed the Siren's call.
Touch the clouds and angels sing
As summer raindrops fall.
Ego, not love, seeks vibrational match
for love is simply an effervescence
like yonder sun, lighting up each dark patch,
being quintessence of our soul’s essence.
Is not fickle love, that seeks a caress,
being dependent upon an exchange;
which if denied, soon begins to regress,
succumbing to cravings, our soul finds strange?
Love that is pure, is of the agape kind,
non-judging, all-embracing compassion,
a sublime radiance, no urge can bind
but perhaps such love is not in fashion.
If endearment be reduced to a trade,
deludedly, we assign love a grade.
Deludedly, we assign love a grade,
higher, if it gratifies our ego,
which is afraid to call a spade a spade,
need to be stroked, unable to let go.
As life unfolds and our consciousness shifts,
we may find that our interests diverge
but elixir of pure love, all hearts lifts,
radiating at all times, a bliss surge.
What matters at all times, is simply this,
that we see in our partner, divine light,
ensconced wherein, both our souls merge to kiss,
drenched in bliss mists, heightening heart’s delight.
Where love pulsates, there can remain no catch;
ego, not love, seeks vibrational match.
A tribute to Heidi Sands
This poetess writes poems of few words,
till the last line she holds the rhythmic cards,
where the fluent essence of her poems unfold
the tale of abandoned hearts that needs to be told.
The lattices of finesse of a word artist,
that on her mind’s expressive canvas persist,
shine in our time’s tapestry, her poems display,
carry the connotation of what she has to convey.
Life is so complex, but she loves simplicity,
in its cauldron she holds on to dreams quietly
to transmit what she thinks, for she isn’t afraid.
In narration never hesitates to call spade a spade.
Her verses that rhyme or don’t rhyme,
reflect her keen sensitivity to our trying time.
Its travails she sketches with the rhythm of poetry,
conveyed convivially by the muse of brilliant brevity.
Manners
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
Everyday , every year , even now
Respect fades and goes away
Grace disappears all the time.
Rude is the new attraction
It is a popular habit
Thank you was elegant.
Now it is never said.
Please is from good breeding
And it is delightful to say.
Nod and say hello
Shake hands too.
Compliment and exchange smiles
It will get you somewhere.
An angry face is nobody's darling.
This the crude art of rude
The curse of a twit.
A hypocrite in make up
His face changes
The reason for his mistakes
Crooks they are.
Call the spade A spade
Insults are awful regrets
It leaves holes in hearts.
Manners either you have or not ..
If not ..
You will be despised such a lot.
"Poetic tools are a means to aid poetry, not an end in themselves'
*******************************************************************
I don't understand why poet use poetic tools so often making a poem so tough to understand
Hiding behind the garb of metaphor, simile, onomatopoeia, alliterations and other poetic tools the real thoughts of poet, the message he wants to convey never reaches the mind of readers
Ask any school going child reading english literature he will say "I don't understand this poem what is poet trying to say! Why can't they make it simple? Why use figures of speech?"
Why not call a spade a spade! Be simple straight and clear! Let your message reach others!
Write such that each reader interprets the poem in same manner.
Same meaning, same mental image gets created in reader's mind and poets and readers mind become one such should be poetry!
I have read poems which no one one has understood, each reader giving his own interpretation.
I don't understand what is the fun in that?
Especially when you want to convey a message, use straight clear language as against poetry tools.
I know, my child dear, you are growing up physically,
Your mind, I see, has been developing quizzically;
As your flesh and blood, and bones intermingle in your growth,
Shouldn't ethically fine fiber become your true troth...?
While respecting your father, mother, sister, and brother,
Shouldn't you respect, too, your neighbor and any other?
Shouldn't each word you think and speak, at each moment, my child,
Be truth and truth alone in your self-styled way - mild or wild...?
Shouldn't, my child, your confidence combine with your kindness?
And to your helpfulness to others, should you show blindness?
Shouldn't you be industrious, and all the same, sincere?
To call a spade a spade should you ever in your life fear...?
Shouldn’t you accept your wrongs, while you're happy when you're right?
Against the might, for the rights of the poor, shouldn't you fight?
Shouldn't your love, just as humans, reach out to all creatures?
Shouldn't optimism be the brightest of all your features...?
Shouldn't you, to safeguard Mother Nature, always be bold?
To esteem, the world as your household, shouldn't your mind, mold?
Could you execute these, my child, in your life, as you grow?
Shouldn't, like the priceless gems, your existence ever glow...???
20 February 2023
The 12 Things You'd Teach Your Child Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri