Supplant Poems | Examples

Winter Approaches

winter approaches
snowflakes tumble from the sky-
a sprinkle of white

As brisk breezes scatter leaves around,
Autumn colors confetti the ground.

Winter winds howl through barren branches
blowing off any remaining leaves.

Mother Nature is in transition;
stripping the scenery yet again.
The naked trees are in remission;
till Spring showers, water them with rain,
and green canopies, supplant the plain.

Voice of Restraint

"Am I the All You Need?"
Slow to detect His voice,
my fists are clenched to hit.
Do I require restraints?
I'm mad enough to spit.

"Am I the All You Need? "
The prompt now clearly heard.
Yet still I rave and rant -
discerning God’s clear "STOP"
searing sparks to supplant.

"Am I the All You Need?"
incessant, faint but firm.
My selfish wrath delayed;
I sense a greater threat.
Anger meets God's blockade.

"Am I the All You Need?"
becomes the issue now.  
I face Your will by choice	
and flint-free - I give thanks
for Your restraining voice.

The Curious Persistence of Contempt

Seasons change, love remains; my heart stays soft.
In marital bond, your touch soothes the hard.
Though less gentle fondness falls from your mouth.

Through gale storms and glee, I have held my mouth.
In the autumn of our lives, I need soft,
lambent serenades to supplant the hard.

Each cycle through time has made your bind less hard.
Weathering me brought you down to your knees, soft.
Still no affinities fall from your mouth.

My lover's mouth, blustery and hard, be soft.

Predatory Transgressor Priests

Accept the "Holy Fathers" stains?
What prideful tolerance sustains
The acts by priestly "Confessors"
Whose transgressions we all deplore.

Their molestations cause such pain
That no repentance can explain
To parishes stretched far and wide -
To innocents they cast aside.

Religious aristocracy,
Duplicitous conformity,
Accepted this hypocrisy -
This predatory blasphemy.

Faux piety to hide their shame,
Disdaining good and shielding blame;
No deft Indulgence could resolve -
No Inquisition would absolve.

Despicable to humankind,
By words and deeds now left behind;
No con nor lies supplant the proof:
The mirror to self-damning truth.

These crimes, these aggravated sins -
Atrocities no words can spin,
Nor can appeal 'yond earthly reign
For acquiesced eternal stains.

Substitution

Eviscerate my being! Distort my face!
Bring me closure to my ego; replace!
Seizure in dark games through which we interlace,
Beckoning the reaper's embrace.    

Subvert my empathy!
Break me into colluded ecstasy!
Mold me in your image of apathy!
Put me in a daze of senseful apogee!

If only I could help You experience the same...
If only I could put out what had went aflame...
If only I could rid you of your own self blame...
My ultimate goal- to personify your game..

Knowing I belong on greater stages;
I set out to share a seat among your stations!
As I'm marching alongside your pages,
I'm taunted by the echoes of ages,
mocked by divine wages.

Taxing are the paths to your way.
My will's faltering, hope's grey,
mind's in a state so risqué.

Tell me, is this the price that I must pay?

"Fractious paranoia vying to supplant.
Vying to take over, to ruin your descant.
To kill that which would lay bare, the one which I shan't.
And destroy the altar to which I hum and I chant."

A Passing Storm

The tattered remnants of a thunderstorm
flashes slivers of lightning without form,
retreating from a sky set to transform.
As the sun starts shining, honeybees swarm,
while Nature quickly returns to the norm.

Excited children rush outside to play
as the thunderclaps rumble far away.
And cornflower blue skies soon supplant grey;
it's going to be a fabulous day.

Crystal droplets glisten in the sunlight,
and flower petals, no longer curled tight,
form colorful splotches summoned by light.

The ozone-imbued air smells sterile, clean,
as Nature dons a sparkling shawl of green.

And a chorus of songbirds starts singing.

In the afterglow of a passing storm,
breezes blow gently as the treetops sway.
And the sun appears as a shining knight,
whose brilliance illuminates the whole scene;
an intro to the warmth it'll be bringing.

Pleasant Spring Like Day February 17th, 2022 Part Two

Decreased dissension 
grudgingly did abate
unclouded protests trumpet
Trump to abdicate
irrefutable proof generates
activist voices to accumulate
linkedin over Green Party 
blessedly to administrate

hoop fully figurative tide
will turn and aerate
political atmosphere whereby
progressive minds will affiliate
otherwise business as usual,
cuz spewing deadly particulate
will only aggravate
dire straits, where 
webbed wide world series

of unfortunate events will airdate
prophetic apocalyptic fate
especially if nonprogressive
stodgy commander in chief re-elected
flush with bigotry and hate
increased chance (chants) ripe state
for revolution avast swath
of population to amalgamate,

and overthrow anachronistic government
absolute zero survival unless dramatic
nondestructive strategy eschewed
to supplant exploitation and mandate
radical transformation, which dramatic
shift off grid if lucky requisite
Earth friendly manufacturing
can possibly ameliorate.

Happiness Burns

Happiness burns

Visions of eternity, crash and burn in her mind,
Her delusional imposters supplant our reality.
Lightning strikes to the brain, burn our happiness to the ground.
On the floor lay my fragments...her love was the glue that held me together.





April 26,2021
For Rob Carmacks Screwed contest this placed 8th.

Love

Through trials and war, in and out -
A man, a woman has only so much to grant.
All long for it, but it is too hard to avoid all doubt.
Still, through scorn and scoffs only it can supplant? 

It is said that it is worthy of all –
How can it though? As it is not intact? 
For no mortal has not had a fall.
Thus, it is only at hand to distract.

Anybody can try to worship it.
But what is it, if not a crutch? 
Although it can hurt to admit,
As all anybody wants is a touch.

Again and again it follows -
All know, no mortal can quit it. And if it is a hunt,
It flits away as if a bird, as if swallows.
So do not hurry it or confront.

Softly allow it to brush upon you.
Only if it adopts you can it bring joy.
So sit and allow it to woo.
And hark back that it is always coy. 

Written on 23 July 2020
Written for Lipogram Poem Poetry Contest sponsered by Emile Pinet

I Almost

I almost went to Florida
To visit with my aunt
Until the virus landed
And my plans it did supplant.

I almost got a chance to see
A Sarasota treat.
The Ringling exhibition
Would have made the trip complete.

I almost got to quilting class
To start on something new
And as to when I’ll get there,
Well, I haven’t got a clue.

I almost got to go to Greece,
A long-awaited tour.
Perhaps next year I’ll have the chance
To get there and explore.

I almost got to see my play
Produced up on the stage.
I almost got to celebrate
My birthday’s special age.

I almost got to keep
My Friday babysitting dates.
Though FaceTime helps a bit
A lot of hugging yet awaits.

I almost got to live my life
Without this daily fear.
I’m hoping that these almosts
Will, at some point, disappear.

Along Dawn's Amber Shores

Dawn slowly awakened to supplant the moon
Empty, the canopy where stars had been strewn
   In repose, Luna slept after wandering velvet skies
   and spider webs shimmered in the flight of sunrise
      Dew drops evaporated upon the fragrant tuberose
      as a playful breeze billowed my sheer nightclothes

Seagulls swooped and scurried along amber shores
A salty crew grappled with the sea on labored oars
   Muscles pulled in rhythmic chorus, as if in lyrical rote
   as surging waves rocked the hull of their fishing boat
      They surpassed each crest and triumphed over swells
      The sun's prisms painted the horizon in muted pastels

Inspired by the milieu of ruffled swirls across the sea
sunlight dappled over its surface in sequenced litany
   I sipped a second cup as thoughts were being seeded
   Poetry spawned inside of me; a birthing to be heeded
      For as driftwood hastens down rapids to a new frontier
      I needed to ledger my verses, ere they hie to disappear



August 13, 2022
  2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 12 Contest
    Sponsored by Mark Toney

Ever Wonder

Does your mind ever
branch out onto imagination 
Or are you anchored
to someone else's
expectations?
Can you describe
being alive
without using 
biological
 terms
Life shouldn't
be allowed to dismantle
our dreams so easily
We should be able to
close our eyes
and birth trees
where skies hold our roots
and heaven gleans 
it's leaves
We supplant
the power of seeds
superseding golden harvests
producing new energies
from everything we touch
Do you ever wonder
like I wonder? 
How hands held
turn sidewalks
into yellow brick roads
and wherever you go
my imagination follows
 Every thought
  an offspring
waiting to be named
I may have the male
anatomy
but she impregnates
every part of me
One touch 
 and I test
the limits of being gifted

Not a Bright Idea

Rudolph’s attempt to supplant Santa by bagging the old man ~ got caught.

12/13/2018

The Shape of Clouds

I’m sitting here, a place that
could be anywhere, and
moments linger, then slip by,
since time requires a past
to form the gift of now.

The future’s a reforming realm
towards which our nows must
daily race, for the sum of 
moments must not supplant our
destinies, else all is surely lost.

And swirling in the currents of air,
and swirling in the currents of time—
perhaps awake, perhaps asleep—
I found myself lost within and
felt the prickly damp of clouds.

Where glimpsed were all my 
hopes and dreams that lay in 
hovering expectation, awaiting 
only effort of my mind and hands
to mold them into useful form.

Coming to my senses I
recalled what I had seen
and knew for certain then
that dreams are real
and hopes are not in vain. 

Often now I walk outside where I’m 
content to fill my pensive hours, gazing
skyward toward aspirations yet unrealized,
and daily they’re arrayed for me,
outlined in the shape of clouds.

Mixed Culture Stream

The impetuosity of inanities
Life spills, deals and fills
In tones and zones of vanities
Raised to a crescendo on hills and bills

On the beleaguered bottom
Society sinks into new perspectives
Derived from the atom
Devoid of subjective directives

Issued at the behest of power corridors
In lumps and stumps of mispronounced announcements
Trembling and rambling at defiant doors
Terrified and petrified at pronouncements

Scoffing at millennials
Accused of fussing over instant answers
To complex matters in denials
Over layers upon layers

Overlaying transitions from entrenched traditions
Assimilated and formatted over centuries
Of rigid implementations and regimentations
Too inflexible to consider modern luxuries

Striving to supplant 
Commands and demands
In a slant
Teeming with reprimands

Queering the pitch
Making the foundation fusion task harder 
To switch
From the tradition defender

To an accommodation of values of old
Held in high esteem
And new values so bold
They create a new mixed value cream within a mixed culture stream.

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