Mildest Poems | Examples

The Odd Fellow

He was a fish that wanted to be caught
(not so odd really).
His lips were new tires, they squeaked,
you could hear them coming
they flapped in the mildest of winds.
Some had Googled his eyes
turns out
they were set too deeply into his brain,
you could read them
like the sun and rain on a cloudy day.
He once touched gloves
with a ‘has been’ and lost.
The girls loved to be with him
but he could not love them
until he was wriggling on their hooks.
In the end it was his looks
that offended, they upended the nature
of the natural and so naturally
he was always being thrown back in,
back into his own shallow pool
of mind-muddied waters.

Nessun Dorma

A gentle hand upon my skin
To balm my sleeping soul within
A fragile brushing 'gainst my face
Adorns my soul with air and grace.
The kindest, mildest, tender touch
Subdues my soul to mind too much
The quaver of my joyful heart
As all my anguish blows apart.
And in the fluent light of morn
A freshness in my soul, reborn,
Where thoughts bygone, should I partake,
May kiss my brow as I awake.

Dedicated To the Two Most Beautiful Doctors In the World

hello dear doctors
i am here to say i'm sorry
i am an idiot
i admit it
i feel better than i have felt in, well, LIFE

i fell one day and hit my head hard on the original hardwoods
my new lady was not having it and practically threw me in the impala
going off on me with tears in her eyes, i wisely sat and listened while staring at unexpected stars

arrived and parked, my new lady and a nurse help me in a wheelchair
i tried to complain, but my new lady just finished a double shift and was not in a mood
she helps me with the paperwork
she glares at me at my mildest complaint
when i am called, my new lady comes with me and just snitches on me to the doctor, who so happens to be a woman too
I LOSE!

good morning, my sweet, observant, and rather persistent, new lady
my love for you has only grown more after another good night's sleep
who knew that i had two blood clots on each side of my brain
i thank God for your love for me
you, and the equally sweet (questionable), observant, and rather persistent doctor, are the reason and am alive and smilin'.....(at you, and only you, of course)

Old Shoes Record the Road of Life

Life’s road is never straight,
instead the directions senseless;
a twisting, turning labyrinth 
of adventures and challenges.
It wears down the spirit, 
more than the shoes.

Dangers faced with support 
can breed courage.
The road walked alone, 
can harden the mildest soul, 
building an unbreakable wall.

The façade worn is often mis-interpreted, 
but the shoes reveal every challenge and hardship.
All of the masks we wear 
cannot hide the life history
written in our shoes.  
Like the lines in the face, 
old shoes fill in the blanks
left after we don yet another, facade.

Old shoes are the portraits
of our  journey in life.
Don’t throw them away,
put them on display
and they’ll keep you humble.
One should never forget
where they’ve been.
It’s in the forgetting 
that we fail ourselves.
Contemplate where you’ve been,
to decide the next turn,
you must make.


2-6-2022
A STRAND (1067) Poetry Contest
BrianStrand

Spyware

Spyware

It was no surprise reading Israel run this practice 
and sell it to anyone with money to pay.
Israel, this enclave in an Arabic world, is an anomaly
its inhabitant lives in a bubble they call democracy.
It brokers no criticism, not even in its mildest form
and calls people who they find disagreeable:  
antisemitic or haters.
They picked up a golden nugget called victimhood
to the point, they believe the whole world hates them.
Israel is not a victim but a ferociously aggressive state
what will never give up its shabby mentality,
But it can be remedied if other countries stop all trade
with land, whose psyche needs an adjustment.

Lovers

You are my poem
I am the writer
To write the mildest feeling
And the best character
You are my image
I am the photographer
To capture the sweetest smile
And the best posture

Seeds

From the bosom of a tyrant
Comes the gentlest of newborn babes;
After the cruelest of winter storms
Comes the mildest of spring days.

And so it goes
And so you are
A seed of unknown origin –
Son, you must have travelled far

Into a sea of corruption
Goes forth an honest man;
Beneath a ceiling of oppression,
A woman tries to make her stand.

And so it goes
And so you are
A seed of unknown origin –
Dear, you must have travelled far

Who knows how the ugly duck
Begets the splendorous swan?
Nature sires its own redemption
Like the shiny package of dawn.

From the father of awful bitterness
Sprouts the child of infinite sweetness;
Children rise up from the Inferno
Out of which they make a Heaven.

And so it goes
But here you are
A seed of unknown origin –
Love, you must have travelled far.

It Is Better To Have Loved

It is better to have loved
and lost
than to never have loved at all - - - - -

You then get to taste
the full spectrum of emotions
that define us

as human beings.
The highs of being in love
to depths of breakup

Joys of companionship to
reflections of loneliness
Exhilarations of a relationship

envelope mildest hours,
trespass upon sanctities
of heartiest seclusions

dripping by lackluster
innuendos perplexed within
tripping feelings surpassed

by joys of indulgences
tempered with illuminations
of times past.

A Placid, Blue Lake

A placid, blue lake
extends through the dense
valley of pines and firs;
its soft sky has the color
of the calm water below,
and it gleams as the mildest breeze
makes the red poppies gently sway!

I walk along it
as ducks float serenely
and they show no fear;
how peaceful is Nature
when no sounds are heard,
no voices break its tranquility!

The balminess of the spruces
fills the nostrils with a pungent aroma
that I delightfully breathe in...
purifying the senses and driving out 
the stale air trapped in clogged lungs!

And going further, I discover
a small creek where the bubbling lake
drains into to disappear down its narrow course;
I compare my excitement to the flowing water
that splashes through rocks to reach the immense sea!

Till Death Do Us Apart

I  wounded every bit of me to make my final climb
Ignoring the horrendous war between the Nature and Life
I had a few hours left round my clock 
To herald my last piece of offer to you.
I found this as the ‘secret treasure’ of life
In the inexorable dark room of Destiny.
I was just altruistic to offer it to you
For I value your life more than mine.
I’m gifting you my last chunk of life
An invincible  space ticket to the Mars.
I would steal away my mildest mistakes with my death
If I would ever be accepted in other world ever
I leave my lasting piece of love here
For it could exist in the other planet if you accepted my offer.
You would be my first and last portion of brimful love
That would prove the world that something could last
It was my last hour and the beginning of your first
Thank you for keeping me alive in this morose world.
If my words would sense to you in this second
Then I wish you could hear my silent “Sorry” and vibrant “I love you”
If I ever would believe in time travel and life after death
I make my last promise to come and live it with you again.

China Absolved

We live a life of ambiguity.
We sat, "Value for life", yet death abounds.
Our leaders visit lands of polity
painful to all, yet make most benign sounds
of friendship and we shuck and jive a bit,
but convince ourselves that profitable
mutual ends can lead to a lamp lit
once to freedom, but now hardly able
to be seen in the smog of industry
and sweat of workers without any choice.
Men and women that are taken away
to lonely deaths if they hazard a voice
in the mildest kinds of criticism.
Our guilt lost in late show witticism.

Hawaiian Chant

The poignant song of an island woman,
loss of land, loss of culture, loss of self, 
is the hard part of my return that I can
think of. I and others, privileged wealth,
only make those losses more permanent,
farther away, more difficult to return.
All the anger and the rage that want
to be expressed, can not, because they learn
each day of futility in the midst
of a majority. So poured into song,
much like slave blues, expressed in mildest
terms the desire to right years of wrong.
Just once I'd like to see privileged power
support the culture of another.

Without Parallel

January in Canada is like a frozen carousel
Snow up to our bum bums and frigid as hell
Someone's lost the script
We're caught in the grip
Of the mildest weather that's without parallel


© Jack Ellison 2016

No More Rides On a Sleigh

Mildest autumn on record up here
What will become of us in future years
Will we all melt away
No more rides on a sleigh
Just a horse and buggy, no muffs on our ears


© Jack Ellison 2015

Mildest Winter On Record

Forecasters are predicting the mildest winter yet
Won't hear ME complaining, on that you can bet
Much milder for sure
More snow which is poor
But after eighty long years, I surely won't fret


© Jack Ellison 2015

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