Just like the carm
Before the storm
Though don't alarm
It's part of her norm
Always such charm
That is though dawn
Unless your a smarm
Or a complete gorm
Never one to cause harm
To all her personality warm
If ever you surcumb -
to her femine charm
That is then Dawn!
Original version of poem princess of light
Written summer 2023
England’s King Richard the Third -
the last Yorkist king and one not preferred.
His defeat by Henry brought the Middle Ages’ end.
If he had a funeral, did anyone even attend?
This same king in Shakespeare’s play
was a product of the Tudor-thinking way.
Shakespeare employed some exaggeration
such as having Richard die in crazed desperation.
Scoliosis is a condition that the King had,
but Shakespeare had Richard appear really bad,
like a “bunch-backed toad” with withered arm.
Who would be giving THIS king any smarm?
As for murder of his Lady Anne,
his wife died from TB and was murdered by no man.
Historically, he loved and mourned her when she died,
but in the play, King Richard was very dry-eyed
Shakespeare’s King Richard was a fiend,
who toward murdering relatives leaned.
Indeed, the kids in the tower were more than just removed,
and that’s a fact from history that cannot be disproved.
Written: July 17, 2025, for contest by Joseph May
********************
Silk voice ties the tunes of the throng
As you play the chill, snake-hands song
Void doesn't just loom—he swoons and croons
Of the throng, silk voice ties the tunes
My sound won't cross—cling to your room
He swoons and croons—void doesn't just loom
Won't quench the charm and delight dross
Cling to your room—my sound won't cross
I'll break the chain with skillful smarm
And delight dross won't quench the charm
Haunts the twilight with spry disdain
With skillful smarm, I'll break the chain
Even my heart can't sate your height
With spry disdain, haunts the twilight
When the coming spite pours a chart
Can't sate your height, even my heart
Written: February 03, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Charles Messina
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This clock let forth one painful scream
Bliss time shrank, as a speck of dream
Just one drop of rain ruined peace
Must hide from massive flash near trees
Charm of winter was freezing love
Smarm melted as spring leaped above
If that was love or sigh, it's slow
Stiff time—season fleeting the glow
The hens from our small, urban farm,
Had wild idea, caused great fright:
Escape their pen, come to no harm,
See a show, without a blight.
With feathers ruffling at benight,
They made plans and added some smarm,
Darkened room, their intended site,
The hens from our small, urban farm.
They marched single file full of charm,
Crazy chicks, on a daring plight,
Ignoring grumbles from their tharm,
Had wild idea, caused great fright.
Forged ahead and ready to fight,
Broke their fence in one clucking swarm,
Accomplished task, without desight:
Escape their pen, come to no harm.
Sodas in beaks, seated disarm,
Screen flashing, their eyes all alight,
Snacks in wings, no need for alarm,
See a show, without a blight.
A hot buttered popcorn, their right,
They'd wielded fowl mettle from dorm,
Hid their combs to avoid incite,
They also did get their wings warm,
Small, urban farm.
March 16, 2023
Double The Fun Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Breathing on the strings of the heart
Confronted by a swarm of wings wert.
Swinging melody on your glass tightrope.
Like a pendulum swung in a chasm of hope.
Much like Saturday evening, I wandered slow.
The sun was sparkling splendidly in the glow.
Say that the best to the voyaging thunderstorm.
A delightful day would have begun with smarm.
Amidst the bedlam, I hunted my firm voice.
She was chanting rustic tunes by burg rejoice.
I steered her away to a serene far-off barrow.
Under glossy azure, we sang beads to sparrow.
Take a deep breath and let go of the world.
Give me a grin and let the sorrow gnarled.
Written: April 10, 2022
On the exquisite wings of fated infinity.
We move with subtle elegance and fluidity.
To sail into odd space on a vessel of silence.
It is clearly the domain of the swanky credence.
I desired you to be hither on a grisly day.
Hardship had exhausted my psychic spray.
I hailed you while gazing at your charm.
On the verge of a crux in winsome smarm.
Here you'll find the hustle and bustle.
We will rest and unwind as the term shuffle.
After you've aged through the up and down.
Our stature in a senders mod panel is known.
I'd been deprived of any expectation, developed.
The pre-winter light was precisely what I scorned.
What's beyond, yelled out, "Let the haziness in!"
The portly flare ought to be turned until the spleen.
We are enjoying areas that are beyond our side.
When we beget to maturity, all effort has died.
You can willingly view we've arrived at the wallow.
Waivers serve as the lessons we should follow.
Written: November 09, 2021
This or That, Vol 8 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
He took his leave of this world
with the truth on his lips
while soaking in that warm bath in Paris
where he had flown to pursue a new path
having been forced to publish his poetry himself
because that sort of thing doesn’t rake in the big bucks
For all their smarm and ego stroking
those suave men in designer suits and silk ties
stop caring about you
(they never really did)
when you’re no longer bringing home the bacon to fry
greasing their bottomless pockets
by catering to popular taste even if it's tripe
(as it usually is)
turning their attention to the next big name
when you tire of the game
and let it go to watch the wheels spin like Lennon
Poets aren’t appreciated until after they’re dead
Maybe it’s the romantic mystery of not being able to ask
what they meant by a certain sonnet or a single line
searching for clues in fragmented stories of a life
that no one gave a damn about before they
breathed their last
like mine
"Roses rooted in the earth
Bud in rhyme and verses sage
Lilies laugh at joyous birth
Strewn across the patterned page"
Marigolds whisper their charm
By scripting a soft story
Daisies sway with sweetest smarm
Penning down their grand glory
Small red bells nod in assent
To the cadence of their rhyme
China roses' heads are bent
To the rhythm of vowel-chime
Daffodils, they smile in glee
Tingling, they craft a jingle
Tulips totter tenderly
Metered to gaily mingle
Magical magnolias
Murmur their divine ditty
Fun loving forsythias
Share their poems so pretty
All these stunning Spring flowers
Inspire with their dulcet dance
Watch and admire the powers
Of their Parnassian glance
05.19.2021
For M.L. Kiser's "The most beautiful flowers you've seen blossoming this Spring so far" contest
I struggle to tell her this truth,
I consult with her pleasing smile.
Woe is a world where flaws exist,
As stains breed until flavors amend.
She hears me mince through fearful smarm,
Pandora hopes she leaves this peek alone.
A whim which daunts a doting kiss,
My muse weeps with this ugly breath.
If her heart breaks then mine will too,
She deserves a sweet little lie.
...........................................................
Contest Entry: A Special Secret
Sponsor: Lewis Raines
He was once a well-built youth wielding young power
That waned little by little with every advancing hour,
Those days his upheld gait scared both man and beast,
Very stout and with less manly things contented least.
Sweet adorable girls cooed coyly under his juvenile charm
And the irresistible lover would brandish his wicked smarm
That got the whole village sick with his rare masculine clout,
His unequaled skill and unrivaled sway were never in doubt.
But now grey hair and a curved back and neck are all that’s left
Of our once-upon-a-time macho man unforgiving and so deft.
I saw him childishly chew on his pink lollipop down the road
Grinning and halting rather often to pick some rusty metallic rod.
Agga Aggrey was a male of superior standing in his day
But he forgot that both strength and youth soon decay…
Glamour, glamour, glamour!
Where does it come from?
What does it form?
At first I thought it comes from French.
But no! In Scottish is the wrench.
In old days it meant proper grammar,
Today it’s an eccentric drama,
It’s an alluring charm,
It intends to smarm.
They say: It’s a sophisticated life style,
No one cares if I give you a vile smile.
Wow! – I hear all around.
From Scottish comes this sound.
I finish my short story and…
Would like to give glory
To Celtic language and….
Close relative of Irish and Welsh.
I made an attempt some facts to refresh.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
Soaring into the shelter of loving arms
Swinging from hilt of protective gendarme
Swooning in the clutches of ingratiaging charm
Succored by incubating touches so warm
Shielded by your barelled chest from pending harm
Soothed by your enticing, enrapturing smarm
Serenading smile; pulsating lips to your kisses conform
Swivelled contours my erotic impulses inform
Token love tendered with a cheap card
Bartered lyric from a trite bard
Gilded, fabricated charm
Brokered, pretentious smarm
Words, symbols to treasure then disregard
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