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Best Poems Written by Mark Pringle

Below are the all-time best Mark Pringle poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Vigilant

We must be vigilant to 
the shards of  radiance and splendor 
that flash 
before our squinting cynic eyes.

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Mirrors

I don't like mirrors.

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Leap

River rushing 
River rushing
Swim
Leap
Swim
Leap
River rushing 
River rushing
Swim
Leap
Swim
Leap
River rushing
Leap

Though obstacles may wait, if you choose to swim against the current
You must frequently leap out of the water to make true progress

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Her Eyes Are Carried On a Light Wind

My attention span is short. Yet, my pen’s is still shorter
It looks absent only after a few words… a few lines
Though ink in its intestines and subject to furnishing hands
It never finishes what it begins. At least, what I want it to finish
So, I hold it’s face with both hands, as we share eyes
“Write, will you. Do not stop until I give consent.”
“Ok” she says, “I will focus”…as her eyes are carried on a light wind 
I presume that’s why my poetry is never more than a few lines… a few 
expressions.

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Upon His Blameless Feet

Glass and fractured imaginings are trite
Upon his blameless feet
Even as he dance and play about them

Toxic and perilous smoke are authority
Outside his naive lungs 
While he freely breathes to ensure laughter

Blood sprinkles and routine metal shards 
Within his innocent hands
Presently, as he claps to the street’s tune

Mordant activities be forever present
Before his youthful eyes
Just before the gleams therein make hearts sway

Remarkable is…
            Miraculous is…
                           Wondrous is…
                                         The resilience and spirit of youth

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Truth

Men say there are no absolute truths...

The Truth
Man can govern himself. He just doesn’t have the ability to do this successfully.

The Truth
There is one God. He has a name. He has a son. Their names are different.

The Truth
When you die, you are dead - not ghosts. It is that simple. That’s it, for now…

The Truth
Even though humans die, we were never meant to. We were designed for a time 
without end.

The Truth
The most circulated book in the history of Man must be more than a “book.”

The Truth
Happiness can be attained, even in a completely miserable place.

The Truth
There is no such place as a fiery Hell of torment, except in pagan mythology.

The Truth
There is a Heaven. However, its purpose is not what you think.

The Truth
The meek shall inherit the Earth.

The Truth...
...is not that far from you.

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Your Latin Radere - the Etching

Beautiful, burnished, brilliant
Yet, my ink friendly inclinations produce a chemical discrepancy
And now, you come – Artist
Scratching, on my polished mental plate
Do not blacken me with your fumigating candle
Do not soak me in your acidic bath
Yet, here you are, sketching to leave your design
Ever so lightly, you etch, carefully, penetrating 
Acid soaks into your carefully drawn lines 
The depth of your influence is varied 
Teasing a relief by removing your blackened wax 
Only to soak me in your iniquitous ink
Here, I must bring it an end. I must stop you - Artist
I must cleanse my mental plate
Chasten long and purposed for that original surface
Until a polished steel-plated revelation
Yes, there, beautiful, burnished, brilliant…perfect, if not for
Your Latin radere
The etchings of your needle
The stain of your ink in my serrations
My effort seems wasted
The vestiges of your ink tainting all that I touch
Now, everything has your art
Like wetted paper onto my mental plate

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Once Upon a Happenstance

Once upon a happenstance
I gazed, a look, and paused in trance

To dream upon a crystal palace
Her heart aglee and form to chalice

With towers true and field in view
I set a course to give tongue to

I crossed the field - anxiety smote
And walked upon this palace mote

Yet, as I firmed, my heart to pour
She drew the bridge and bolted door

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Marigold Tongues

marigold tongues
water a flowering seed
as downy hands
mend a crushed bruised reed.

a flaxen shaft
lights a smoldering wick
as a ‘lectric beam
starts a heart’s soft tick

spines in strain
raze a barrier wall
marigold tongues
make a blade stand tall

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Wicked Art!

This poison paint colors my canvas
Indelible, it will not depart
Painted this masterwork is on my surface
Loathsome canvas!
Wicked art!
A masterpiece you work
Varnished transgressions that can not be washed free
Free, from my oil-receptive canvas

For this reason, now 
I must hide this artistic blot
This poison paint
With oils of Truth
Worked by hands of spirit
So that set eyes will never see this crafted bane
A new masterpiece in its stead