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Best Christine Phillips Poems

Below are the all-time best Christine Phillips poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Christine Phillips Poem

From Dusk Till Dawn

                                              She got it for her wedding gift,
                                        but she dropped it when she fell off the cliff,
                                                it sank to the bottom of the ocean,
                                      and the excitement caused a great commotion.
 
                                                  From dusk till dawn
                                                they float on the ocean,
                                                    from dusk till dawn
                                              they were filled with emotions,
                                                      sunrise, sunset
                                                 and still nothing in their nets.
 
                                         They went deep sea fishing in a fishing boat,
                                        searching for the pearl in the Bivalvia's throat,
                                          with cracked lips and scorched backs,
                                                 they drift around the ocean,
                                                everyone with great devotion.
 
                                               Suddenly she bursts out in tears,
                                               and explains how it was so dear.
                                            They dived to the bottom of the ocean,
                                            floating back and forth in slow motion,
                                                   life at risk from shark attack,
                                                but she did not care about that.
                                                   They caught a hundred fish
                                            but still no sign of her priceless gift.
 
                                                When they went back to land
                                             she saw a clam moving in the sand
                                               she opened the little clam
                                           and her precious pearl fell right into her hand.
 


                                                  ©2013 Christine Phillips


Details | Christine Phillips Poem

Heartbeat

Morning dew dripping from my eyelids
doors banging at the center of my heart
as the symphony gets ready to start.
the flute begins with a champion song
while the listless crowd jeers merrily along.
brass, rhythm and base
my lips tremble with sadness,
and I could not escape this emptiness.
The sound increased,
but the pain did not cease.
Tump
thump
lub-dub
ba- bum
chanting sounds from the congo drums
reduced me to crumbs.
The violin ushers in,
and the vibrating trumpet sound begins
The chords get louder and louder
exploding emotions in the air,
leaving me cold,
empty and bare.
The manipulative trombone echoes through my ears,
and the deceiving guitar tune appears,
in one second  everything was said
and I scrambled hopelessly to my bed.
It rips up my innate passion
while they look upon me without compassion.
I waited for an answer
but he was entwined with the belly dancer.
The symphony increase,
every beat exposed
the daunting rhythm to my piercing soul.
they appear one by one,
raging without control
Tubo, trombone,
French horn and bassoon
harps ,tiako and bamboo flutes
made their speechless debut,
heartbeat telling me the truth.

©2013 Christine Phillips





Details | Christine Phillips Poem

Shattered by her past

Her childhood indelible painted upon her brain. She can still see the knife in her stepfather’s hand and her screaming mother pinned to the bed beneath him, and she knew her mom was dead, even before the last breath escaped her body. But for one brief moment their eyes met, and she could not erase the horror it has painted upon her brain. It was a seed that has grown into a tree. It is revenge.


He went home early that day to “butcher” his step daughter; she was only ten. When her mom returned from work, she was hiding under the bed, and blood was flowing down her legs. Her mom entered the room, and saw him lying on the bed; she fetched the kitchen knife and leaped towards him. They fought, and he stabbed her to death.Yet she cannot be convinced that her mom is dead. She still believes that her mom exists in her, and the doctor has mistakenly pronounced her dead.


 Leaving the bed soaked, dripping red, he bolted through the door, and a voice that was not her own screaming above her head. When last she heard of him, he was sentenced to be hanged, but she was in another world. She thought that God would come that day, but he didn’t and her mom has not risen.


                                                ©2013 Christine Phillips


Details | Christine Phillips Poem

The Break of Dawn

I woke up at the break of dawn,
with the feeling that all hope is gone,
I was not sure where to begin,
but I was determined to win.

No dazzling stars,
no visible  moonlight,
no chirping birds, 
to tease my empty words.

I walked through the door with a subtle grin,
nursing bruises all over my skin.
I tried to escape yesterday’s punishment,
and saturate my mind with hope and fulfillment.

Walking down the dark empty street,
a cab stopped  exactly at my feet,
I hired him to take me to the mountains,
to breath out the stagnant air
and repair my body’s wear and tear.

His grouchy voice thundered through my ears,
he spoke with a strange accent that I could hardly hear,
It passes through one ear, and suddenly it disappears.

We journeyed through sleeping towns,
they stared at us without a sound,	  
steep hills and rocky path,
bending streets and winding roads
dumping my burdensome loads.

He made a sudden turn,
and I felt a sensational yearn
spilling over in my soul.
Mother nature bursts from the horizon
and filled my heart with glad tidings.

Layers of mountains blink at me,
taking me up and down the gigantic tree
guiding me to my  unseen dreams,
while patches of green and sun burnt grass
prepare the city for the morning mass.

I saw her bursting through the thick grey clouds,
and I stopped the car and spoke to her aloud,
I climb on top of a nearby rock,
and reached towards her and interlock.
I was just in time for the meeting,
Oh how my soul yearns for this healing.

Mother nature looked at me with a grin
she shook my hand, 
and said, “where shall we begin?”
I lamented the troubles of my piercing heart,
and requested for a balance start.

What took you so long?
I know that you have been hurting all along,
and  I have been waiting for you to prove them wrong.
 
“Worry no more,
I am going to fulfill the desires of your burning soul,
look around and tell me what you see,
observe carefully and you will agree.

Let me ignite your body and soul, 
and sooth the sorrows  that you bore,
sleepless nights,
daily fights,
unfair treatment,
and treacherous  lies.

The meeting came to an end,
and I felt free again,
the peshmerga drove up the  steep hill
and greeted me with goodwill 
Dawn fully broke out into broad day light,
and filled my soul with joy and delight.

©2013 Christine Phillips




Details | Christine Phillips Poem

Green is Healing

At the end of the finishing line, 
a deep grouchy voice thunders in my ears
and said, “Welcome home”.
I stepped on the green carpeted grass 
and gazed at the slender bushy trees
waving peacefully in the hot summer breeze.
Happy squirrels scampering along
and merry birds singing happy songs.
But the moment swiftly fades and the 
tormenting sound of fire trucks sirens chimed in
Trash less garage truck put on masquerading scenes
and empty school buses appear on every corner
performing a deceptive drama. 
I gazed across the horizon and drowned out 
the intimidating sounds in America’s streets.
Instantaneously a hand touched me
I reached out and held on 
but surprisingly it disappears.
I held on tightly clinging to something that was not there.
Bequeathed by a mysterious will
my mind glides up a gigantic hill 
shades of wonders, throngs of danger
could not stopped god's destined will. 
With hand clasped and eyes closed
I whisper a prayer for my compelling soul.
I tried to detached but it kept coming back.
Something bigger than faith kept me going
more profound than hope itself 
It absorbs my innate being
and laden me with mystical dreams.
Weighing heavily upon throbbing heart
It was strong enough to melt my spiritual thoughts.
Thousand of them stand in the midst of the crowd
but only one I could make out.
That one gambled with my heart
Stretched my bone and pull my marrow apart
unmindful of the wounds it caused
smiling at me without an infinite thought.
most powerful and most worthy
Yet strong enough to rip up my aching heart.


                                                    ©2013 Christine Phillips            


Details | Christine Phillips Poem

Fortitude

Oh earthy rock,
the savage man does not know,
neither does the learned understand
the secret to your existence.
You sit here, year after year
watching your adversaries screaming,
and swallowing their wrath.
You have aunthetic power,
I see you resisting their sharp arrows,
and when the competition comes your way,
you out-sing them with your song.
The floods tried to uproot you
the winds also failed,
the masses come upon you,
but none of them could prevail.
Oh solid rock, show me the way.

©2013 Christine Phillips


Details | Christine Phillips Poem

CRACK

Weep with me winter morning
Sing for me a solemn tune
Dance for me winter morning 
Tell me a story before noon

Crack
Crack
Bang

A crashing tree limb pulled me breathlessly from my freezing bed.
White morning stares viciously in my face, 
Lingering snow and rain turned everything into hardened ice.
Nude trees striped of their autumn leaves 
Perishes slowly under nature’s weight 

Crack
Crack
Bang

A laden tree branch lands on my neighbor’s van
Everything in sight has frozen to ice
Slipping and gliding and humming a tune I 
Broke the ice just before noon.


                                                               ©2013 Christine Phillips


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Insight

If you know,
impart what you know.
Don't say that you know,
when you don't know.
It is beguiling to say that you don't know
when you know.
I tarry with you all night,
supposing that you know, 
and you really don't know
yet you tell me that you know


©2013 Christine Phillips


Details | Christine Phillips Poem

Answers

Layers upon layers stare at us
Bulging eyes straining behind black silk veils
Men masquerading as women
Hugging and carrying little children
wandering around the busy towns
draped in long black gowns

Many questions have been asked
Many conclusions have been made
Yet the hidden DNA cannot
Replace the truth that is buried in their graves

What you know is what you don’t know
And what you don’t know is what you know
Dug out walls embraced myriad truths
Stretched beyond the days of their youth
Blistered hands holding blistered feet
Whispers embracing whispers
And skinny boys scampering around the streets
Looking for something to eat

I can hear them crying
I can feel the tension growing
I can see them coming
Friendship or love
Diplomacy for blood

Searching knocking wandering 
Trust embodied in deep betrayal
Friendship endorse guilt and shame
No one wants to play this dangerous game

Trees budding new leaves in autumn 
Roots expanding in the earth
The moment lingers 
Days become shorter
And children are growing faster

Destiny carved on an inch of wall
History repeated on broken edge
This is the spot where they wed
You have been exposed to tyranny and horror 
For a well in the ground in the midst of sorrow 

Open your eyes and look around
It’s the same road you have trod
The same people you have met
Mingling with them at the dinner table
pumping oil from their manmade well
and drinking  with them from the pit of hell

How many times have you cross this bridge
How many times have you made that deal?
Yet you spend years searching for answers
when there is a manmade disaster 

The answers are engraved in their ruthless faces? 
wrapped up deep within their guiltless faith
Multitude of wounds hidden beneath old scars
Restless voices muttering horrifying sounds 
And blood stained garments hanging all around


                                        ©2013 Christine Phillips


Details | Christine Phillips Poem

A Love Poem For You

love  and let 
love find you


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