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Best Anthony Slausen Poems

Below are the all-time best Anthony Slausen poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Anthony Slausen Poem |

Out of the Sun

              Stayed 
             in the sun 
              to long
               today
 The skin became the bark of a tree
 the soul turning to brittle scars
 for uncaring worlds to see.
             my face
            is a pile of 
           old owl bones
sewn into banks of midnight creeks...
even the plump, over ripened ones 
no longer look at me...
but if their car was desert flat,
their oil grim reaper black
they'd paint a wormy, water colored  smile...
slide it through my barbed wired heart
so long as I could spin the jack...
so I spin it until their potholes turn to satin-
               Stayed 
              in the sun
               to long
                today
the mind has smoothed over 
like pebbles in Saturn rings..
a forgotten spice in the conversation of life
an hour later the word snuggles up to me
               laughingly.

Tomorrow or forever( which ever comes first),
I'll stay wrapped inside
till my skin turns back to ivory
to an easter egg yesterday 
to a time of bouncing ball and spinning jack,
when the mind was a great silky nest...
the face a flowered meadow place 
where watercolors swirled all day, 
the heartworms kept at bay.

I'll stay hidden within the briar, 
till the jewels of memories soothe 
every scar - every stripe,
the molten knots of cruelty,
till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
until then only my curtains breathe...
       ...stayed in the sun 
              to long
                today




Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2013

Details | Anthony Slausen Poem |

black pebbles and violet streams

violet 
star stream
flowing 
across 
the 
soullessness
of
mundane dream...
whispering "everything's alright
she's thriving like a spring fed rose
in saintly gardens
an angel brightly glowing

...of this dream.
i staggered along
a ragged path
through a battlefield of metal devils
called 
quartered living,
faith folding and unfolding
garnished with ogres slinging
burning orbs of fire -halos of insanity...
this is when 
violet star 
sashayed in
soothing me
shielding me
her singing rosary
telling me 
that she loved and missed my heart
re-fastened our very being with a satin dream kiss 
that had tattered in the talon of time...
lifted me across the bloody
broken battered fields 
 ...into the arms of forever
where the beat of pristinity only flies

so fly 
my love,
fly ever so softly into me
If dreams mean anything
I know it wont be long 
till we dance
the dance of butterflies
over green sprigs and lacy things
in a warm wind
yes 
in the heart pond of gilded tomorrows,
we'll gently drift about
make origami sunflower love
high upon a gilded glade...

if dreams mean anything
death is just a splash 
of black pebbles
in a violet starry stream....
if dreams mean anything

Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Anthony Slausen Poem |

love Leaves

love,
gently rustles silver leaves
gliding through open windows
a golden summers evening
               love,
like a cardinal's sable wing 
warming the brutish bluish soul
of winter's icy cheek
                            love,
like a spray of ocean blossoms
bursting from a magicians sleeve
into caverns of lonely hearts
rooting oh so very deeply
                                    love,
like a siren sweetly offering
a sextant for the wayward bow,
just before it strikes the reef 
love leaves in a flaming howl
                                          love.



  
 

Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Anthony Slausen Poem |

spring thaw

spring thaw
the ice breaks-
into song 

Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2013

Details | Anthony Slausen Poem |

When Winter Enters the Heart

When winter enters the heart,
snowflakes gather in rosy chambers,
like ghosts of crows-every breath throbbing 
sluggish songs of longing and loneliness...
Over time the crows pile on,
my-my how they live to pile on,
like bones of long ago loves...
Suffocating songs
leaving only an avalanched refrain....
but the soul is still flowing and howling
like an early winter stream
nobody dares to cross
those icy blue eyed thinning veins.

but there is a flock of warmth
in every winter heart,
buried beneath dead songs of crow and time,
they just need a pinch of flint and pine
to release the warmth from the glowing...
my-my how they beat to release rose budded songs 
from a million springs ago.
 




Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2013

Details | Anthony Slausen Poem |

The Lost Flight of Hope

A spaceship called Hope... made from future's grand mist, 
is perched upon a launch pad of manic chemicals, and loss.
With stun gun emotion, mother earth regurgitates.  
5-4-3-2-1
her metal finger meets the button...
she releases her ballast...
Blast off! 
My brain engulfing G forces,
soon to become a mustard seed
in the speed of light garden, 
filled with gravid redheaded planets
giving birth to fat-headed moons.
The stars are cheering, like starving mad islanders.

Light years have past, 
ground control has lost contact
(by choice or by accident),
the rations are depleting,
but I'm serene in this 
strange, 
starry
tranquility...

I've blown by a million past lives
apologized half-heartedly to an alien God,
who wished me well, pointed toward a giant black hole..
then disappeared into the vapor trail
of lost potential and cachexic hope.

Its almost over,
there is no more virgin oxygen
only the stale argon of saints and tyrants,
casting shadows of black hallucinations
chanting:
"Little seed...little seed...Didn't you know this was a one way flight?"

I gaze out a stained glass window for the last time
church bells are ringing from the parched throat of time,
as four golden letters peel from the side of the star dusted ship,
satiating the madness of stars...
"Little seed...little seed."






Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Anthony Slausen Poem |

slag worn centipedes

ragged thoughts 
marching like stoned centipedes
to the slag heap of the lost
intertwined in eternity's brine
waiting to reunite with meaning-

a lightning strike- mind o fire
insomnia rapes the dream
splay the centipedes across the page
like autumn leaves o'er vampire graves
twitching feet in a gyrus maze


the destiny of brilliant beams 
in the outback of the furthest ... reach...
sadistic magicians
wanding diamonds
back
into
centipedes

Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Anthony Slausen Poem |

White Crows

Morning ignites a murder of white crows
roosting in the loft of spruce, maple and oak
preening moon and star from death's fertile dream.

Ribbons of sunlight wrapped tight, ancient scrolls
window ajar, enter angels donning broaches of mint
crows perched lightly upon honey kissed bed posts. 

In each platinum beak ,they carry one corner of my ghost,
lifted toward an ember of pulsating eternity,
garnished with pearly crown and second hand wings.

Outside, the crows line up along golden cobbled clouds ,
motionless, like a rosary of gleaming white stones
whispering, whirling secrets of galaxies and geodes.

Drifting about, chrysalis brained, rose petal hearted
leaving behind glittering pools of scented hieroglyphs
orange robes enchanting the horizon with lavender mist.

Butterflies released from blue granite chrysalis
riding a stream of cherried sun beams and glitter 
the echoes of a rainbow are a grand place to live.
 


,
  





Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2013

Details | Anthony Slausen Poem |

the truth about masterpieces

drifting beyond the lightest cloud
(pastel clowns in post mortem rain parade)
cascading in the cold moon dust
to shed this latest mascarade

wounded memories hang from the mind
(autumn berries quivering three quarters past prime)
when did "mediocre" pock the virgin tree,
when devils told us," painting by numbers
was just mindless barb and babble"
not a feathered masterpiece?

your very first epiphany,
an evening frost pon tender leaf
even that...nothing really unique...
they should have stated the slate cold truth
as soon as we could breathe.




Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Anthony Slausen Poem |

the sum of us

our minds and souls 
have somehow linked,then strolled
down paths of rain freshened flowers
forever mingling to songbird hues

we spread our mutual seed into forests green
the texture of our scent..pristine
the past cannot blemish such moments

in the center of our lifetime, a golden pool
harpfish splash a silvery surface
the bottom strewn with love's jewels

we dive for the blue heart of it all
a deepening touch, tumbling walls
an eddy of us paints a lavender dusk

we emerge pure as the sum of our love
infinity plus infinity equaling us
death cannot divide the frolick of such moments 

 

Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2012

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