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Best Poems Written by Dana De Jong

Below are the all-time best Dana De Jong poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Shores of Time

My ideas bounce off my words echoing the future onto the page
As my clarity begins to age 
Into a rage
Where water doesn’t flow 
But sprays

You attempt to duck out of the way
As I attempt to say what I must say
But instead I spray

And there it lay
Messily across your face
My image of this mental place

You struggle to wipe it clear as I heretically steer
Through this commotion of gasoline emotion
Riding on metallic sharks 
That are surfing on cascading sparks

I cast my vision down below into the lake
Catching my words becoming humming birds
flying as ripples in my wake

They elegantly twist and curve in every dimension in space
But only one in time

Forwards
Towards
The jagged shores

Where we of every kind
Must forfeit both body and mind.

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Sand-Splattered Faces

Soft orange light permeates moist skin;
Cascading down through 
Wild Sun-bleached locks 
Tickling zig-zag patterns 
Across a small round chin.
Warm splinters of sensations spread 
As droplets dribble;
Reverberating in skin-prickling dendrites
Little-by-little
They weave through each other 
And gently cause
Hair follicles
To stiffly pause.

Wide eyes venture
Spirit Soars
Light blustering breezes bump
Against sun-stained sores
Crawl across stretched toes
That tangle themselves
In cool
Wave-weathered sand.

-Quickly-
Specks of sand-water elevate
Tanned legs carry eager faces forth
Blistered feet lift nimble bodies
In joyous grins 
Sand-splattered faces contort.

Duck, dive! Roar, rout!
Leap, lob! Sprint, shout!

Joyous grins wear sand-splattered faces
Sand-splattered faces free from doubt.

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Minds Emit Time

Time, the divine
Touches, tickles, and caresses memory of present-blind
So nice, so kind

It is what makes them so blind

Replay
Reminisce
Melt within your mind
Fast forward or rewind

Hope it is bliss, in which you, yourself, and you find

Ravel, Roll, and hide
The unpleasantness inside
Leave the place now forgotten

Fly from fear you childish stork
Flee from where past and present do fork
Currents that now do turn can stain a soft face with paint so stern

The illusion time
And time the illusion
The composer of a blinded minds delusion
Notes weave sweet symphonic confusion
Essence of infinite profusion
A lovely sweet escape

A delayed bitter contusion

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Mysterious

They call it mysterious

You can see it in their faces lit
Viral messages infected by a curved slit
Curing the state of a depressed wit
Viral voices leaving through a practiced lip.

They call it delirious

We can hear it in the scribble-scratch
A pencil giving birth to words that hatch
Bringing life to curious eyes that at meaning snatch.

But we call it mysterious

The yearning stare into the distant sky
The yearning oppressed under the mental shy
The learning gaze in the student’s eye
The learning of people to seldom apply
The deeper meaning found in the answer of “why?”

And we ask emptiness this with our deepest cry
And it says “love is mysterious”

In its empty reply.

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Certainty

I’m sure I know with certainty,
That I know quite much, uncertainly.
The age born birth did behold
Trepidations of great certain cold.
Please grant me warm uncertainty,
Where I know my sweet bliss, certainty.

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The Constant

In weathered age it regresses
A weathered mind which one assesses
For there's only one
That time caresses
Only one
That time possesses.

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A World of Worlds

Just take a look

At the myriad of universes

Perched upon shoulders and flowing through a crowded sea
Defined In counted parts uncertainly;
An omniverse ready to explore

...for what reason are you waiting for?

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Rivers

Rivers come and rivers go
Bringing faces to and fro
Rivers here and rivers there
Rivers never stop to care

Lakes and paths and rocks and beds
Rivers raging in our heads

Rivers come and rivers go
Oh, how I wish 
To slow the flow

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The Red Sea

Testing for me my will to be, for you see I cannot see the glee beyond this misty sea of 
despondency. 

This misty dryness,
A fork in our path, 
divides us like withering fronds with no heed to its wrath. 
In the dreaded dry spell
Where the lost ones fell 
Tender bodies lie upon crackling death,
Given up, 
Crushed by the river they’ve left.

Swiftly god moves the rapid rivers of time, leaving us behind in the division we find.

We are left in the blind. 
Our mind, that warm comfort it cannot remind. 
Searching, lurking,
All values rewind, 
To a time when we remember the world to be kind.
And we say, as if passed by relay, 
the question we all turn to in states of dismay:
“Life is unfair" so why must it be this way?
The answer is imminent, we all know it well: 
“Life is unfair” so get used to this hell. 

So in unorganized formations we march through this hell, and if one were to mind a read of 
behind, one might see where the river divides, where the lost ones sink beneath the red 
tides.

Details | Dana De Jong Poem

I Wondered

At times I have wondered:
Is my reality riddled with dreams?
When logic embraces reality,
Maybe reality slips through the seams

At times I have pondered:
Am I dreaming or am I awake?
When dreams tangle with reality,
A division I find difficult to make

These times I now blunder: 
Was the thought ever truly of me?
And my mind now does wonder
If it can truly ever be free