Tried I once again to you hold
But-Alas- you had just been sold
To The Shrewdest Merchant of Old,
Whose merchandise should first go sold…
Tears hot I tried to boldly check
But soon guessed it correct not a wreck
Whether ascended I a deck
To cry or not, it is Death’s Peck!
The Ever Crazy With Power,
Mankind hitting every hour,
‘Dearest’ once treasured like Flower,
You would glimpse and turn A Tower!
Giant I would hold by the tail,
So that he could never me fail
And just like that wrought his escape
Me leaving with fooled mouth to gape…
Death its flogging does with wire
Sadist that never could tire!
Categories:
shrewdest, absence, cry, death, humanity,
Form: Rhyme
PoetrySoup makes the bold mutuality of eager souls.
Oh, What a whimsical bearing for a meeting!
Embellishing the psyche's shrewdest notions, venerating
Together, we have erected this one-of-a-kind haven.
Read, review others, and be present to remark and blog.
Yearning determinedly for the boundless POTD.
Savoring every sense, emotion, and genuine feedback.
Ostentatious encyclical and exquisite delight on paper.
Untethering and relentless river of innovatory composition
Priceless colosseum where idioms prosper and grow.
Written: August 29, 2022
Poetry Soup Beyond Its Name Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Beata Agustin
Categories:
shrewdest, analogy, appreciation, poetry,
Form: Name
Stitch these painful, open wounds:
fate is something one chooses;
many faces stare and frown...
not an ounce of pity is shown!
I won't ever finish my final score,
I'm another ship stranded offshore;
I've helped other take lift their weight...
until they safely got to their gate!
Not a thankful word I got in return,
not even a handshake as a reward;
risks were a possible hundredfold...
was silence too frightful to mourn?
Stitch these painful, open wounds,
there won't be other serene days;
dreary skies reflect actual life...
they'll march and play the fife!
I'm too good, I'm too kind;
they give me the thumb down:
reason with the shrewdest mind...
keep afloat and never drown!
Stitch these painful, open wounds,
am I to blame for all the deaths?
My body was a heavy armor shield;
I can still hear that horrible sound!
Categories:
shrewdest, conflict, integrity, leadership, love,
Form: Lyric
The roads which I have travelled
and the turns I choose to make
were of my own making
my choices for to make
Perhaps at times they may not have been
the shrewdest or clear sighted
and oft times they brought consequences
somewhat uninvited
For errors I've made I've begged forgiveness
many many times
and in my way I've tried to pay
the penance of the fines
Lessons which I learned from life
often came too late
and mistakes I made are difficult
to clean from off the slate
There are those who never will forgive
a slip made in the past
and those who should be wary
the first stone for to cast
The good and bad decisions
which salt and pepper my trek
are mine to wear forever
as a millstone round my neck
Forgiveness for my flaws and falls
is all I ask of you
so that I may then forgive myself
for all the wrongs I rue
Categories:
shrewdest, blessing, character, courage, forgiveness,
Form: Rhyme
A lowly blossom, striving to sustain
her beauty in the early morning mist,
the crocus, craving moisture to maintain
her stoic fight 'gainst winter's iron fist.
A lowly mollusc slithers 'neath his shell,
he slowly weaves, and leaves a silver trail,
antennae primed and ready for the knell,
when sparrows poke and peck his coat of mail.
Creatures and plants in the midst of the fray,
searching for sustenance, dying of thirst,
staving off hunger, say, is there a way
to count ourselves blessed, not feeble and cursed?
Predator, prey, both the fittest, the weakest;
who will prevail? I would bet on the shrewdest!
Categories:
shrewdest, nature, philosophy,
Form: Sonnet
A lowly blossom, striving to sustain
her beauty in the early morning mist,
the crocus, craving moisture to maintain
her stoic fight 'gainst winter's iron fist.
A lowly mollusc slithers 'neath his shell,
he slowly weaves, and leaves a silver trail,
antennae primed and ready for the knell,
when sparrows poke and peck his coat of mail.
Creatures and plants in the midst of the fray,
searching for sustenance, dying of thirst,
staving off hunger, say, is there a way
to count ourselves blessed, not feeble and cursed?
predator, prey, both the fittest, the weakest,
who will prevail? I would bet on the shrewdest!
Categories:
shrewdest, inspirational,
Form: Sonnet
If you're still not frequently misquoted
or not often lied about completely,
that means mighty press is not interested
and you're not yet a real celebrity.
To snatch and hold tight their attention first,
make the shrewdest media blitz that you can,
for they love the best even at their worst,
famous or infamous, you'll be their man !
Categories:
shrewdest, people, political, social,
Form: Didactic