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Writing A Valentine Comp Poem

Many years ago, I wrote a Valentine poem (the year was 1992)
for a competition on the local radio.
The first one I wrote seemed to me OK,
and then my wife told me that it was too long.
Out came the pen and paper
and I sat down and wrote another one.
I sent it in and lo and behold
it was read out on the radio
and neither of us heard it.
We did not even know
that it had been aired
until a box of heart shaped chocolates
came landing on our door.
Being such a kind person,
I’m going to share the poems with you.
They are called appropriately
Valentine Comp Poem 1 and 2.
Read and enjoy what this silly sod
would do to win a box of chocolates
for his love so true.

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poem by David Harris
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Doe Not Then Inscribe

Pean echoed on Hills, dithyrambic,
for duels on stone red wet ground are paired,
Art thy sword and panoply metred Iambic?

Verses reflect no loves in souls, poetic,
Doe not then inscribe your sentiments aired,
Pean echoed on Hills, dithyrambic.

We shall attend a time corybantic
the duel unchains enslaved wrath where'd
Art thy sword and panoply metred Iambic?

Pentameter exports par'syllabic,
Capital thy right is, thorny and flared,
Pean echoed on Hills, dithyrambic.

Sponde of tears onward a wind frantic,
Happiness and sadness deceived or spared,
Art thy sword and panoply metred Iambic?

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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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No Shame to Claim

There is no shame to claim,
On hunched backs left burdened
And seen picking over tossed garbage to dine...
As snobs of all flavors drive by
Squinting eyes of disgust,
From behind smoked glass windows!

Bustling hustlers...
In spot check quick tours!
Sightseers observing blight between flight and fancy.
Elevating themselves to floors in skyscrapers...
Centrally aired and deodorized!
Marked by cubicles and paths of safe passages.

These scenes are not made by curbside dreamers.
Sipping steamed coffee...
Gazing at clouds to pass time and getting paid!

There is no shame to claim,
Nor middle ground to gain...

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not Last

It was not last but first
When I tried to rest
Nothing succeeded like acid test
But something was coming out as best

There were positive signals
In batches I received their arrivals
Like Siberian cranes they landed
Smiled at me and befriended

It gave me all I wanted
All rules are to be flouted
How I wish it could be true
It may stay longer too

I got some indication
It had some relation
Otherwise why earth always wanted
Beautiful songs aired and chanted

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The ' Wise Men ' Stop Not...

The 'wise men' often tell me,
'You are absolutely ignorant'.
They quote the scriptures and state aloud,
'You are quite wrong, it`s the divine order'.
-The old wine in the old bottle.

I remain pensive for hours - new revelations set in.
Reflections of the distant lands Argentina and Somalia
Begin to haunt me - the cries of hunger become louder.
A calamity strikes a fauna and flora - a total wipe out!
-The divine order surpasses all reasons.

Eulogies are still aired and hymns are sung
The ones living in peace whisper and hail,
'God bless you' - and He becomes busy with the task.
A God to bless a fortunate block of race here!
-I don`t have 'the insight' to feel Him awake ever.

As the ' wise men ' continue to speak,
I hear a cradle song being sung from the skies

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poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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She is no more

She is no more

I feel my eyes wet when say” Good bye”
It is almost heroic attempt or try
It is painful and shatters courage
Tears dropp and almost unable to mange

I had seen her since many years
Read her articles regularly and felt in ears
As if melody was aired and heard
It was almost class in itself and last word

Her sentence played a magic around
Charm in every word to be found
Magic spell to bind you together
Eagerness to know without providing a breather

I know she is not present today
Heaven bound journey all the way
We may miss her contribution

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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May Smile On Arrival

Not only conch but hymns too
That is the only means to listen to as true
Hear or listen sacred names in the morning
Rest of the day may pass nice till the evening

Those things awaken the life
Otherwise it is like knife
It may cut man through both edges
Only faith and trust boosts him to manage

Why prayers are offered in the early hours?
Whole of the universe is fast asleep with fears
No one knows what can happen next day
So certainly the guidance is asked through prayers

If you are living near by church or mosques
You may hear it loudly when people are in queue
To offer their worship in wee hours
Some of the people may still be fast asleep on floors

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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My World

How can world be so small?
Not to respond to the sincere call
What can we do as children?
I have searched the answer but not found even

We read disturbing news
Come across elderly views
But concern aired by only few
Who knows in real what is really due?

We, as female child, are not preferred
Nice treatment is still not offered
Many countries still prefer ill treatment
One of the darkest periods to resent

Whole of the world sees in us
A bright future to dream about and trust
What are expected to do in days to come?
Watch it keenly and in fact to welcome

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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End The War

End the war without going into war
Don’t leave the sight but stay also not very far
Wars may be waged and let it be so
If Something is to be achieved and something to forgo

War may bring destruction and play the havoc
Yet the morning alarm is not stopped by cock
That message is aired daily without fail
We must thrive hard for peace and avail

Casualties or no casualties if thrust upon
Everybody knows wars are never won
It may be brutal and even painful
World must be given chance to remain peaceful

Hope or no hope wars must be resisted
Either by force or by any means desisted
Life is precious and must be preserved
But motherland is sacred and must be served

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Lithe Dame's Birthday Toast

The birthday here, toast Terri's heart strings true!
E'er in verse fit free style we'd list, real kind
None threads skain enchanting, seam none unwind,
Deed rare, for heed, dig deep dear, here dream's due.
A dame lithe may read, treasure marriage cue.
Now parts hid new I name, rich link is neat designed
In zeal is laid, chained. This, a nodal find,
Covert, is meshed, scored, gist tight tucked into
Each true hope aired, shared here, tunes sung for two.
His pen rules. Read. Heaven's clear art has signed.
Eye, dear fair, he spell'd glamour. Here entwined,
Annulled dread, as announced, fear, alarms, through.
Reward: lines near revealing winner right,
To show life's doubts dissolve, idyll true, bright.

8 March 2010

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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