Best Prearranged Poems
Appreciate
Imagine waking up and everything has changed.
No free will, your entire life prearranged.
Being told where to go and what you can do.
All aspects controlled, even your view.
No more crime and no need for law.
A life without love, no ma and no pa.
Imagine this gift suddenly taken away.
Would this life be good, even for one day?
No more dreams of what you could be.
Nothing to look forward to, we would all just agree.
What if opinion would no longer exist.
No more falling in love, or that first time being kissed.
Maybe we need the good with the bad.
How else can we appreciate all that we’ve had?
Without bad in this world, would good be a thing?
What is free will and what does it bring?
4/25/2021
Splatter painted, Pollock blessed, leggy I stand,
among the green grass and healing Plantain
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
A walking canvas in the meadowland
stems, humorously stippled to entertain
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand.
Blush brushed by daylight, a cheeky garland;
a stand bloomed within thin skinned constraints
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
Pistils between petals unknown unplanned,
joyous the sound of honey bees restrained,
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand.
A plantigrade intrusion, a new brand
surface mounted digits adorned prearranged
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
So bright the upright parts, so very grand
one can but dream the crown gloriously manned
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
Mused: Bella online Literary Review Winter 2015
I still recall my earliest of dreams
Those summer afternoons spent in the shade
A grass stained T-shirt, old cut off blue jeans
A pickle jar filled with cold lemonade
I never once believed they would come true
I guess that you might say those dreams were free
The reason why they did not make me blue
I left them there beneath that old shade tree
But in the years to come, how things would change
My broken dreams began to take their toll
I questioned if my path was prearranged
As one by one I failed to reach my goals
I started gently, rowing down life's stream
But can not say this life is but a dream
June 30-2017
By Daniel Turner
I write each poem in each moment
Not knowing where each word will lead,
I focus on my present awareness
And sometimes the words they bleed from me,
I do not sit down to write at prearranged times
My poems happen spontaneously,
I write them in each unique moment
As the thoughts they come into being
And this inspires and lights up my days
It often awakens me,
When I find my self in mindless routine
Or in the throes of drudgery,
It's as if the words I write down
Create themselves automatically,
It's like the thoughts that come within that moment
Are there to enlighten me
And it reminds me that in each moment
The importance of synchronicity
And how if we focus on each moment,
We discover infinite opportunities
And I love that is sets my soul free.
8/5/2018
The room will be cold, but all that will change
These rumors I'm told are all prearranged
If the Doc asks you to cough, explain the female race
If he says "Your kidneys got rocks" keep a straight face
If he's younger than you don't be amazed
Their people too, now the X rays!
Hold still, not to move
I can solemnly approve
Imagine being called back for a redo
Many years ago I lost a friend...
memories of her will never end !
All the times we spent together
are now etched in my mind forever !
It wasn't perfect all the time...
yet our relationship was prime !
Mother and daughter through the years,
wiping away each other's tears !
Celebrating when times were good...
getting together whenever we could,
for shopping sprees and lunches too.
Through all those times our closeness grew !
From the cradle she mothered me;
it was impossible then to see
that Mother Nature had a plan
to change things from how they began !
In her final days roles were changed
for the future was prearranged !
Now Mom relied upon my care...
it was time for me to do my share.
Mom became a child again
and I took on the role of "Mother Hen" !
It wasn't easy playing the part
but the love was from heart to heart !
A person’s life is in varying shades of change.
However, at times the plans are not prearranged.
Sometimes our journey seems to have lots of mistakes,
Even when you know in life there are no retakes.
At times a life can get stuck in unfamiliar limbo,
With a heart so troubled, you don’t feel the wind blow.
At this crossroad, you have to get down on your knees and pray,
Because He is the only one that can show you the way.
When life does resemble a monotonous “groundhog day,”
You have to get off the treadmill, unless you plan to stay.
Thinking of someone besides yourself may help your disposition,
And might just promote renewed ambition.
Some people say that change is a good thing.
I wish we could know before what it would bring…
You have to trust God in whatever changes take place,
And He will be there for you in life’s obstacle race.
Sometimes we draw,
the card from the deck,
a pain in de rissole,
painful as heck,
fate fakes the magic,
And fatal we swoon,
prearranged so tragic
ironic the tune,
till we do our time in the sack,
no escape no going back,
till we escape from the light of the moon?
a sanity attack,
and over all too soon,
alas and bloody alack... don
As eventide awakens
Under our bower I lay
My pulse begins to quicken
The world vanishes away
As you slip into my dream tonight
Like a prearranged rendezvous
A sweet illusion to fill my sight
I close my eyes, it all comes true
To taste your lips is ecstasy
All worries are left behind
In this land of fantasy
Our movie plays in my mind
In our never-ending romance,
Our unique melody, crafted with love
Your touch so tender, full of finesse
'Neath the precarious moon above
Gallivanting forward in my dreaming
Eager to acquiesce to my heart's desire
How I long to stay sleeping
Of this dream I never tire
But he kisses me, nonchalant
As he gently fades away
Back in my memories to haunt
As night gives way to-day
© 05/9/2018
New Poems (8 difficult words) - Poetry Contest
ecstasy, rendezvous, unique, finesse, precarious,
gallivanting, nonchalant, acquiesce
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
When she first saw him walking like a God down to the lake
she knew it was the last free breath that she would ever take.
Right then and there she knew it, her world forever changed.
Her life took on new meaning as if all was prearranged.
She knew she had to meet him, this guy moved in next door.
So she slipped on her bikini and went strolling by the shore.
She paid him no attention, just made sure that he would see
the woman he would surely love from then till eternity.
When he first saw her walking down the beach without a care
he didn't have the nerve to speak, just gave an open stare.
He knew right then he loved her though he didn't know her name.
From that day on he knew his life would never be the same.
He tried to get attention yet you'd think she didn't see
the feelings that he couldn't hide had nearly made him flee.
He knew he had to meet her, this young girl in the sun.
He made his move and from then on their worlds had become one.
When their eyes met they melted almost beyond control.
The world began to tremble with this collision of the souls.
Many watched the fireworks that day out by the lake.
The water was the backdrop for the love they'd surely make.
Their love was overpowering, yet ever gently so.
It made each think that they must never let the other go.
Form:
An animalistic painting in a cave can be considered as magnificent as a fortified wine kneeling in a chapel. Chapels cheer chariots. Charging. And the baked shrapnel recedes from many a bridge. Sing then you field of mice. Ministerial movements make money. And la la la means no more than blah blah blah so go meow at the kittens then. To make more room is to situate oneself upon a skyscraper at midnight. In an eclipse. Rent is payable and taxable too in a breath of air. But light comes the clouds. Skipping over the skies. Smiling. Smiling in genuine friendliness and kinship. But no spaceship can ever really view a non descript hue who's origins are not yet scientifically screened yet known for eons by tribal wizardry. How quite sparkly. How quite fascinating really. Tepid are the duties of the necromancers arriving to marinade the meats. Many meats. Many meetings. And a discarded tissue rising into the atmosphere. Such flight. Wow. Speaking at this time are the arranged skulls. Who chat to the candles on a prearranged date. To be affixed is to outplay the game of chess in a six million acre field. So move then. Go on move. A mop is neither a praenomen nor a psychological thriller. It is merely utilised in cleanliness and hygiene in a hive is not a live performance in a baked bean can. Kick karate's kana ka kali kales. And a smoke omitting from an upside-down tent. On wheels. Arias arriving in a huge cloth. And deities dusting hallways. In jails. Or in ships. A frightened mushroom can never sing a rock n roll song and a rag in the cupboard sinks in rapid despair at over use. It must be cleaned. Cleansed. Rejuvenated. Revived. For to do is to dare and to dare is to do. And a pluperfect plop plip is an objective for a grey sky. Colours conjuring cosmic creations. And a fathomable bag with a ladies' scent. Diva not a tiny dog. Smell then? Hahahaha institutionalised ignoramuses'. Hahahaha trolls talking. Xxxxxxx superflous snake spit. Xxxxx stratification z p y q Z
Form:
This is a story about a man
who deepsea-dived to another land.
Where forests of kelp grow so high
they can almost glimpse the blue of the sky.
Where darting fish play in a waterfall,
the man followed a sea nymph's call.
She was an octopus, he was a man,
this meeting designed by a non-mortal hand.
He followed her as she gathered her meals
and when she hid from a predator's zeal.
She knew he was there but would not interfere
with her meanderings far and near.
One day one tentacle touched his hand,
and their differences fell away like the sand.
Each day they swam, he not too near,
but she always sensed his presence there.
She became a creature of magnificent grace
touching his hand, caressing his face.
Finally, she lay her body upon his chest,
her farewell gift for his earnestness.
The next time he dived she had company:
her mate, which he knew he could never be.
He watched her give birth then, as prearranged,
she must forfeit her life in sea's equal exchange.
Weaker she grew as the days swam past
until she became part of the sea at last.
The pain was deep as he watched her leave.
Their unearthly bonding he silently grieved.
He knew sea creatures' lives can be swift;
but grateful he was given this special gift.
He learned a sea creature's ability to love
a man who, one day, appeared from above.
A beautiful saga about life and the sea
and a man embraced by its majesty.
Simply told, this story is true.
A man, an octopus, and the love they knew.
No one yet knows my new calling
Now that my profile has changed,
I reside in a cemetery
A settlement prearranged.
Once upon a time long ago
People sent their post through me,
My job was that of a mailman
Carrying mails was sheer glee.
The times have changed so I believe
As machines now carry mail,
Besides, they do other things too
And am told they never fail.
Glad that I am dead and buried
Happily doing a task,
Which no machine can replicate
For it's quite beyond their ask.
Been assigned to push up daisies
And I push up roses too,
Am sure no machine can do that
Whatever else they may do.
Machines make not a warmer world
They have not the soul to care,
I yet endeavor to do that
Which no invention can dare.
***********
Coincidence
Is life as random as it seems,
Each day brand new with no restraint,
A gift of freedom and of choice
Without restrictions' gloomy taint?
Or this .. I've known that man before
Though when I really can't explain.
Is this a chance coincidence
That's passing through my life again?
Or was all this once prearranged,
Are we predestined every day
To do things where we have no choice,
To live but never have a say?
Perhaps life is a colouring book
With dot-to-dot and boundary lines.
We draw in details all the time,
New pages showing our designs.
Coincidence is more or less
An act of fate, and if that's so
It's no surprise it lies in wait,
Appearing everywhere we go.
So which is real .. unplanned events
Or life laid out by other means?
We are here while time moves on,
Daily colouring in the scenes.
It may sound incredible to the modern
The intelligent man may deride it often
Nevertheless, it is sensible to concede
That the heaven above ties nuptial knots.
Facts are stranger than fiction indeed
For believers no stout logic is required
To understand the ways of providence
That works in a strange way with ease.
The groom and the bride are handpicked
By destiny through a move well planned
Thus, all things necessary deftly managed
To carry out the design that is prearranged.
Love and longing are but barren words
Addition to the stuff for poetic jargons
It is the heaven above decides everything
That includes venue, time and the linking.
No one knows how it works, definitely
As it is impossible to delve into it deeply
It is good to accept and enjoy life merrily
For heaven above fixes marriages’ surely.