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Best Poems Written by Chetta Achara

Below are the all-time best Chetta Achara poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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In The New Utopia

Nobody owns anything but everyone is rich - for what greater wealth can there be than cheerfulness, peace of mind, and freedom from anxiety? ~Thomas More

She won't let caretakers cut down wildflowers
living under the hedge at the boundary edge
of her very small plot in its very small slot
in the unending rows of homes in repose,
in which sameness is virtue and uniqueness is vitriol. 

Rebellion is not trivial, in fact it is evil;
how dare you suppose, or try to expose
the snugly fit knots designed by despots;
the ones who make pledge, and use every sharp wedge
to split off the capers of the few troublemakers!

Epilogue: The woman who loved wildflowers has disappeared
and no one remembers her, or if she even existed at all.

Copyright © Chetta Achara | Year Posted 2024



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I'll be there by and by

CONTEST: Put your best foot forward. JUDGED 4/14/24
Mother is ninety now, frail, and asleep much too often. This may be her last year; she wants to go home and be with God, but does not want to leave me. Go Mom, I'll be there by and by.

Copyright © Chetta Achara | Year Posted 2024

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You Are a Black Hole

the weight
of your expectations
crush me


 "A black hole is a hungry beast ... It swallows up everything too close, too slow or too small to fight its gravitational force." ~JoAnna Klein/Dennis Overbye

Image: Pixabay

Copyright © Chetta Achara | Year Posted 2021

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Thunder

The thunder sounds from far away,
wild wind runs before it carrying whispers 
of the coming storm.

Clouds are dark and gray
like cloistered nuns escaping hell,
and bursting out with rain.

Lightning flashes her skirts
and her consort thunder gives chase,
disregarding those beneath their feet.

Wind and rain keep the beat 
of the storm's tempestuous dance,
becoming cyclone's destructive stance.

Copyright © Chetta Achara | Year Posted 2024

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She Clipped Her Faerie Wings

She clipped her faerie wings,
those gossamer monstrosities,
or so she was told by her "friends"
who said she never would fit in
with the everyday community.

She clipped her faerie wings
and cried because it would define her
as an ordinary creature,
no longer wondrous and magnificent 
nor magical nor special.

She clipped her faerie wings
and wished she could undo it
for no amount of paring 
could turn her into common folk
and something not contrary.

Copyright © Chetta Achara | Year Posted 2024



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Mister Elvis Presley

Mister Elvis Presley 
Sang his songs expressively 
In Aloha From Hawaii,
He sang them just for me, aieee!

I was 15 when he sang just for me
Straight from Hawaii via TV,
My heart skipped a beat,
I jumped from my seat,
His music had changed my reality.

Elvis has now left the building,
Gone is the music and gilding;
He died much too young,
How many songs left unsung?

Copyright © Chetta Achara | Year Posted 2025

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Rosary of Tears

Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest. ~Psalm 55:6 Lord, I swore not to weep, yet here in the darkness that precedes sleep I find them~ regret, grief, anger, relief~ rivers down my cheek.
For: BITE SIZE POEM no26 Poetry Contest Sponsor: Line Gauthier November 8, 2021

Copyright © Chetta Achara | Year Posted 2021

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Hidden

The stir of a love song
whispers across midnight,
blending times present-
times past,
punctuating the softness
of a silence belonging to memories
locked away,
hidden within heartbeats . . .

whispering a sudden longing
for a time before the time
when innocence pirouettes
on the moment of passion,
and all songs stop.

Copyright © Chetta Achara | Year Posted 2021

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gifting more than gold

the lake's clear crystal
belies the ice hold's brittle
grasp yet I'm blissful

the springtime's warm sun
will quickly disperse the fun
blossoms have begun

in hearts young and old 
flirts and flirting growing bold
gifting more than gold

summer's golden sun 
brings forth the bursting blossoms
as lovers embrace 

beneath the bowers 
sweet youngsters are holding hands 
with time and pleasure

slipping towards dusk 
the wise old men remember
the first touch of spring.

Copyright © Chetta Achara | Year Posted 2024

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By The Old Pond

Life
calling
can be heard,
like the still frog 
contemplating sound
or the absence of sound;
does it jump into water 
or into the sound of water
when it jumps because there is no sound,
no companionship there by the old pond?

Copyright © Chetta Achara | Year Posted 2025

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Book: Reflection on the Important Things