Real poetry resulted from man heart and mind not disk data
True poetry is human heart's feeling not artificial stuffing
On a nameless night, under a sky sprinkled with extinguished stars,
Thoughts trickle like oil in the engine of an old dream,
And I, a lost acrobat, sway on the thin thread of life,
Trying to grasp in my palms the essence of a world that smolders quietly.
You don't have to write to feel poetry in your veins,
It's there, in the smell of gasoline and the smoke rising to the sky,
In the eyes of the one who fills tanks with untold stories,
A poet without words, dancing among car queues and time.
I am an artist of the trapeze, not fitting into molds,
With my heart suspended between a yesterday and an uncertain tomorrow,
Each leap a long verse, each catch a moment of grace,
For between falls and flights, true poetry is born.
So, in the silence of the night, among ticking engines,
I wonder, who am I to name my art?
A trapeze artist of destiny, a dreamer in the shadow of light,
Or perhaps just a soul that knows how to breathe poetry without words.
She's a goddess, true poetry in motion.
The kind that has you sacrificing yourself in devotion.
Hypnotised, I move her sway.
With no question of acceptance, live to dance in her ballet.
I found a light, a beacon of perfection.
Then once I'm at worst I find it's lies and misdirection.
When I go out, people smile with their stretched jaws
But the moment I turn, they mock at me for no cause.
On my achievements, my fellow-men shower applauses in tons.
But in my absence, utter sarcastically with their forked tongues.
At times, my neighbors shower unwanted sympathy.
Secretly they reason my actions differently.
They seek my help and send requests with a pleasing heart.
Behind the curtain, they congratulate themselves for being smart.
The vendors fill my basket with one or two spoilt fruit
Cheat and swagger how cleverly they can loot
I believe that they are really praising my nobility.
For not greasing their palms, with me they develop hostility.
They say ‘correct’ when I raise my voice against misappropriations
Off the record, warn me for poking my nose in those conversations.
I pray the Lord...Let’s be blessed
With right impressions, right thoughts and right deeds which mark us the best.
PLACED : 3rd
If only my wish would come true Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Date: 18-06-2022.
I wish to wake up and see a new world,
I wish to wake up and see a new system,
A world free from ills and pills,
A world free from corruption and misappropriation,
A world free from war and air strikes,
A world free from genocide and servitude,
A world free from oppression and depression,
No hungry mouths to feed,
No one is in dire need,
No mass shootings in the day,
No raiding at night,
No one stands to obstruct his brother,
His rights are not trampled upon,
Money is not on a futile chase,
It is not owned by a selected few,
Everyone stands on equal footing,
The table is set for all,
If only my wish would come true.
June 19, 2022,
If Only My Wish Would Come True Poetry Contest.
As I step out into the warm summer breeze
I take a few moments to offer a quick prayer
Uncustomarily, on grass, I drop to my knees,
And I wish for you love.
Sweet peace flows over me in a velvety layer
As I lift my voice to the author of all good things
I take a few moments to offer a quick prayer,
And I wish for you love.
Rising to my feet, I could swear my heart sings
I continue to pray silently to the loving God,
As I lift my voice to the Author of all good things,
And I wish for you love.
My feet planted firmly in the greenish sod
I know that warm feeling of unconditional love
I continue to pray silently to the loving God,
And I wish for you love.
From the heavens comes a light from above
As I step out into the warm summer breeze,
I know that warm feeling of unconditional love
Uncustomarily, on grass, I drop to my knees,
And I wish for you love.
[modified Terzenelle w/Refrain]
THIRD PLACE WINNER
Written May 28, 2022
Submitted to "If Only My Wish Would Come True" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Amongst barren winter trees
Snow caps on a rippled stream
Conifers sway in the breeze
Images resonate winter dreams
True poetry form: Lind30
Newly created by Robert Lindley
7/7/7/9
Dreaming she is a ballet star,
Practicing delicate, ballet moves
before huge mirros and with ballet barre.
There's something wistful in her smile.
She knows not, these memories will
last more than a little while and take her far.
She will be unable to post a picture
with most poems.
Knowing her poetic words mean far more
than a picture can ever hold.
An art gallery? No, she will never be.
An artist with words only, she hopes to be.
To paint both stars and mysterious sea.
No shortcuts to true poetry for her.
Her words only hers, woven beauty,
Of her history and finely.finest words.
A long way to go, to be the poet of her
dreams.
No sell outs, no teams, just wants her
poetry ala delicious, like fresh whipped
cream!
9/18/2021
I wish the best for the Earth's residents
To have peace and freedom restoration
While conquering chaotic incidents
Toward blest genuine liberty function.
To have peace and freedom restoration
True care and share we must practice indeed
Toward blest genuine liberty function
I pray* to God for love and kindness' deed.
True care and share we must practice indeed
Zeal of goodness against suppression plight
I pray to God for love and kindness' deed
Since citizens want to enjoy truth’s light.
Zeal of goodness against suppression plight
While conquering chaotic incidents
Since citizens want to enjoy truth’s light
I wish the best for the Earth's residents.
*2Thessalonians 1:11 Wherefore also we pray always for you, that our God would … fulfil all the good pleasure of his goodness, and the work of faith with power.
September 5, 2021
Edited on May 29, 2022
1st place, "If only my wish would come true" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Anoucheka Gangabissoon; judged on 6/23/2022.
POETRY
Poetry by tradition must be rhythmic.
Rhyming or non-rhyming matters little.
Rules- regulations to pen a poem
restricts poet to fly freely in sky
Better to allow the poet to soar high.
Wandering in dreams to be amused
on own muse reflecting on emotion.
Free verse is queen in realm of poems.
Rhythm with internal rhyming runs fine.
Yet Poetry is nicest creation
simultaneous self recreation.
Human feelings best to be realized
through songs and poems.
Lyrics also are part of poetry.
Perfect poetry to feel and realize,
neither to analyze or criticize.
Whether structured form or free verse to flow
True poetry in any guise sure to glow.
11/26/19
The pure beauty amid attraction
no holding back it gives, it gives
a place where thoughts breathe
and strength and true poetry lives
It's not pretty nor perfection
word upon word, letting of soul
forgiveness, angst and freedom
allowing moments, feeling whole
there's happiness and sunshine
a night of fantasy or two
but mainly it's moving forward
closing shut a heavy door
heartbeats wrapped up in a blanket
slowing down one second at a time
giving life to more than perspective
a freeing of the troubled mind
I strip, you watch
you bleed, I cry
no expectations needed
just another day inside
1 2
1 2
Through thick and thin Alexis has always been there
My rock that disappeared, so sweet this women
Alexis she, always commenting with encouragement
If I were younger I would sweep her off her feet
I would take her to poetry confinement and never let her leave
A sweet and kind young women who’s poetry
Makes me star blind, what a kind and gentle soul
My Alexis one of the first ones I had ever met on soup
My Sweet and Kind Alexis!!
All around the feathery quill
The poet penned his verses
Some are sweet, while others are shrill
And some move folks to curses
His poetry's sad; his poetry's mad
At times, it even makes your heart glad
That's why his lines are from the heart
Not blue, but red ink ~ true poetry smarts
Holiday, I'm free
I've come in myself, I find
There true poetry
-October 28, 2018 Chattogram
Poetry.
Is the food that feeds me with
words
carved from the well of my
creativity.
Poetry.
Is the art I explore.
Within its walls I seek beauty,
I seek clarity to that which
dwells in my mind.
Poetry.
Is the voice in which I whisper
delicacies.
In which I scream at the top
of my lungs
all the frustrations which has
befallen me.
Poetry.
Is an art form.
Poetry.
Is within me and around me
wherever I go.
In every tree,
every cloud,
every whisper,
and every tear.
Within all that is living
and that which is dead.
That is where true poetry will
be.
Poetry.
Is within and a part of me.
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