Raved Poems

Mark Skip Stubbs

In loving memory of our Mark,
Better known to most as Skip,
Reunited with Clegg up in paradise now,
Best friends back joined at the hip.

From thrashing about on his motorbikes,
Revving the **** out them in crickmere park,
To his mams house bouncing with hardcore,
As skip raved away to M.C's and afterdark.

He absolutely loved to spend time with family,
Travelling to raves and cutting shapes on the dance floor,
In fact if he was made to choose just one,
Wouldn't be sure what he said he loved more.

All the stories that so many have to share,
In the days ahead filled with both joy and pain,
Means his legacy shall forever live on,
Precious memories will always remain.

We feel you all around us buoy,
Your spirit will never ever be gone,
You never could call it a night,
May your soul forever rave on.

A Whiter Shade Of Pale

I skipped the light fandango, 
as I walked across the night  
turning cartwheels
upon a sky lit floor.  

I was feeling kind of sea sick, 
as the stars cried out with roar 
the ceiling flew away  
and so I soared, a little more   (pause) 
           And so it was, 
                  as I raved against the embers,
                   and the dying of the light,      
I turned a whiter,                 shade of pale;
 
******

As I wandered through His garden 
I could not help but let it be 
and as the killer told his tale,
I watched the water, turn to light; 
  
Just his 16th vessel virgin,
I was filled with cold and dread
but the truth was plain to see
as I wandered through God's garden, 
I'd had been mistaken, sadly left
                 for dead.
  
Although my eyes were open 
they might as well be closed 
as I skipped the light fandango 
He turned the water, into shades  
                 of pale*  

He turned the water, into Light  

and so it was ...

Winter's wetness

Glacial sent wet winds to chase out autumn radiance,
Snowdrift saints powdered white many gardens,
Leaving long flakes to peel open the morning ~
   Secretly smiling...

Morning emerged radiantly recuperating,
Silence silenced, replaced by stormy sunshine,
Winter's wetness welcomed wholeheartedly ~
   Singing for springtide...

Flaky flakes foisted frosts on plenty pavements,
Beautiful blessings brillianty raved a reprieve,
New natural warmth to sweet succour so sought ~
   Springtime sunshine.

How Long Has it Been

I came home from Lowe’s today and told my husband
About the hot guy who tried to pick me up with this line
“We should garden together.”

When we were younger my husband would have demanded a name.
He would have jumped in his car with his six shooters, and hunted this guy down.
He would have ranted and raved himself into a six-year-old-babylike-frenzy.

He said to me “How long has it been since someone tried to pick you up?
“Bet he couldn’t lift you.”
He is now sleeping with one eye open.
This was not the week to tease Caren.

Poet

An ordinary life I live,
No high title, wealth nor fame.
Few will know my name;
I write for the joy it gives.

No great office have I kept.
No life my actions saved.
No critics of me raved,
Of accolades, bereft.

But there are some I touch.
Some hearts and lives I move.
Some suffering I sooth
And I minister to such.

Some I move to tears.
Some will share my passion;
Claim this poet’s fashion-
And offer subtle cheers.

I am simple and I show it,
A novice of this art
But if I can move a heart
I’ll be none other than a poet.

The only black swan on the Lake

She swam so beautifully captivating 
the sky mesmerizing the rivers 
edge she panders about with such 
grace owning her own dreams she 
caters to fulfillment honored by 
her beauty moving with strength 
confidence as on lookers watch her 
sun bathe in her blackness adorned 
by flaws made her even more 
brilliant this wondrous creature 
before us raved in the glory of 
self assurance a masterpiece of 
essence created by God as she swam 
over the gleaming pond bowing her 
head beneath cool waters shaking off her 
tail feathers the mere wonder revealed

I Dreamt

I dreamt of blue birds
and buzzing bumble bees.
I roamed with the bison herds,
prayed with mantis on our knees,
and butterflies in the breeze.

I greeted the cheery chickadees,
dragonflies, and snowy owls.
I marveled at graceful manatees.
raucous sounds of guinea fowls,
and warblers’ velvet vowels.

I raved at ravens
dancing on a fertile field.
Mice sought havens,
safe shelters that red ants build
in hopes from spiders to shield.

I spotted rain-drenched
autumn leaves in tapestries,
their beauty strangely entrenched.
Purple hues imbued in varying degrees,
of gladiolas and sweet peas.

So many perfect pleasures,
many another than these.
All of God’s treasures,
created with love to please,
arranged to calm my world with ease.

Marietta Make Up Artist

Marietta is a make-up artist with flare
Does things that others would not dare
Wins competitions from hither and yon
Uses models who love what she puts on

Attended a show and could not believe
Things she will do, tricks up her sleeve
Proud of sis, I raved about her for days
She is now a designer for lots of pay

Falling Into Faerie Land City

falling into faerie land was a terrific start
they fed her gooseberry pie and a lemon tart
showed off her poetic skills and raved about her art
took her to court to see the king, which was very smart

do you want us to try to return you to Kansas City?
She stared at the queen who was sweet and enormously pretty.
I’d like to stay here for a bit first, she said, feeling witty.
They were very sweet to her in Faerie Land City.

John the Baptist, True Man of God Was He

John The Baptist, True Man Of God Was He

His name was John, a man God saw quite fit
A shining light shown in all that he did
With the starving for faith crowd a huge hit
He came with his own pot, kettle and lid
Water and Word were his true message sent
And the angels watched over his crowd
He had nothing to do with government
He spoke truth with his godly word so loud
He water baptized, angels rejoice 
Nobody counted all he had saved
But all Heaven shouted with one great voice
While Heaven feasted, the angels all raved.


Form= Rhyme
\Contest entry

The Tree They Call Mary

I saw the tree they call Mary,
and stopped my walk to tarry.

Known as a shrine for the people,
to worship without a steeple.

I kneeled and started to pray,
finding it was a special day.

For the lady appeared to me,
shimmering starlight I could see.

Surprised at the beauty she had,
being neither happy nor sad.

On a turntable, she would move,
her face like one seen in the Louve.

Yet as she was slowly turning,
her look turned to one of yearning.

Then changing to alabaster,
the face of the Holy Master.

At first look, it seemed he had horns,
no, it was but his Crown of Thorns.

When the vision was all over,
white as the cliffs of Dover.

Then when I was finally passed,
I would hope to meet him at last.

When the image of which I raved,
might say to me that I was saved!

date:8/30/22   (a true story!)

The Lady's Play Metal

The lady's play Metal.
in overdrive.
They raved Holy Diver,
neath a Burning Witch sign.
Hey, as for Me,
I liked their stripe's.
The Witch's raved Dio,
in overdrive.


H.Elless
Poet.

Conspiracy Theory

It’s just a huge conspiracy.
Facebook says it’s so,
And, it’s a well known fact, 
The experts on Facebook know
The City seems so quiet now
Just a littered and dirty street
Now the anti vaxxers have gone,
Their demonstration complete.

Hardly the peaceful promised demo
For they stood, cursed and swore,
Issued threats and insults to folk
About the face coverings they wore.
And, as always, hidden in the centre
The balaclava’d active mob
Stirring up the others with
Their big and  strident gobs.

The scientists from Facebook
Who absolutely know it all,
Those Rent-A-Mob Heroes
Always there on constant call.
If they sadly catch the virus I hope
After all they’ve ranted and raved
They’ll stand by their convictions
And not expect their lives be saved.

After all the law allowed them
To publicly raise their voice
And they were all allowed
To exercise their free choice,
And it is just a conspiracy 
So I’d want to know just why
They don’t stick to their convictions
And quietly just go off and die

A Perfect Mismatch

He couldn't stand her temper tirades
   She ranted and raved about bills left unpaid

A tragic couple they were, a perfect mismatch ~
   Their marriage contract containing no escape hatch

What Matches Orange

What matches orange?
The husband asked thinking the couch was a mistake.

She was a decorator – not a paid one,
but nevertheless, she was a visionary.

She had the room put together in a week.
People raved about its beauty.

Husband tried to take credit for the orange couch a couple of times.
One look made him back off; but he never questioned her taste again.

Friends of friends came for months to see this gorgeous room.
Orange goes well with every shape, style and color in the world.

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