CROW
Upon the wire
Barbed and black
A crow stood watch
With feathered tact
A sideways look
An eye of glass
Mud, red, blood
Flesh flailed back
The few that stood
Did notice not
The crow gave wink
A friendly nod
They carried wood
With hooks tied fast
They dragged the dead
From jaws made slack
The clubs swung low
They arced, the night
Was filled with bone
In naked sight
The crow cawed once
He nodded twice
He'd have their souls
When he took flight
Still others came
The weary arms
Those that shame
Could do no harm
Again they dragged
Again they swung
Still the crow
From midnight hung
He cared not
The where or why
What human sin
He watched close by
He had no need
For cloth or thread
But flesh and bone
Blood stained red
To tally souls
To eat and fly
Black as coal
The midnight sky
A photo that was taken in Treblinka I saw as a chid and never forgot.
The rumbling, crashing, riotous falls
were like instruments intent on
singing out their percussion.
Each watery movement came in
orchestrated rhythm, appearing as
the master of the scene
yet arriving on unheard cue.
The wild and noisy disorder of the
magnificent Niagara Falls were an
ever-changing mosaic of color
that could tumble from a
box of pastels.
In the sunlight they were soft,
no matter how bright the light became,
and always just as pleasing as the
gelato that sat in our waffle cones.
We dashed for cover as the sky
turned like a woolen gray shawl
upon the rolling hills behind us.
Colors arced into a bold sky,
stretching as open hands reaching
for the sun-kissed rain.
The colors were that bit more beautiful,
like God had polished the world afresh.
And how could we begrudge
those blessed drops?
For with them came
the rainbow, the greenery,
the cheery flowers, renewed vigor and
every other slice of life we so enjoy.
he paused
pushing himself on the soft leather
shaped by his years
-Happy
his eyes beaming
below the arced trellises of his greyed out eyebrows
Dion rested at his grandfathers feet
His face in a contortion of bewilderment
-No, I mean as a job
The old man grasped a freshly iced can of
some sugar filled gloop
and poured it between them both
He gave a chuckle
disguising it as a cough
as the child held the glasses together to better measure the gloop
before placing one in his grandfathers hand
The giant princes and 7 people doesn’t have the same ring
-Okay what about Grumpy
pulling a fake gurn to his face
the tickle of his beard causing him to sneeze to easily
Dion yawned his grandfather wiping the sleep peadrops from his eye
Bashfully I must leave
but my grate NESS
Is documented
In the cooling from a burning August day,
I was hushed in the darkness,
before I ventured to fancy-
above my screen window was her-
a looming blood moon.
Of the world's woes she bled,
as shooting stars arced in a freedom
that time cannot capture.
In those precious hours I yearned for
a dreamful sleep.
Yet the mischievous schemes of
wily ghosts delayed my slumber's
imaginings.
As I bade them to leave, the blood moon,
the very orb of crimson mysteries,
rose to her sorrowful heights.
Ascending to the highest thrones of
the singing saints,
is the sacredness of Heaven's
untroubled realm.
Here is the Steadfast One,
O Christ,
Who weeps in the Goodness of
His Light.
He's so weary of humankind's
wretched wars and violence.
The wounded blood moon bids
to console Him,
but the wars rage on and on. ~
My parents gave me answers
that arced and formed a dome.
Outside seemed beyond my grasp,
inside I would roam.
So even while I freely played
-in some ways I was wild,
my parents watered down the facts
to facts you’d tell a child.
A rebel would-be lawyer,
I’d try to build a case
against the facts they fed me,
to keep me in my place.
I screamed, I cried, I argued hard
to prove that I was right.
My parents shook their heads in vain,
til I would sleep at night.
I'm a feathered ocean,
stained with inspiring hearts of lost souls, weaving light,
life's potion
A wisdom's pray,
let rivulets sing in mauve might,
arced sway
And stars,
carve sagas, bright,
scars
I'm a feathered ocean,
let rivulets sing in mauve might,
scars.
Upon the stage, curtains wave and part;
halos arise from black velvet canvas, an aurora-lime dance.
Arced streamers among the nimbus lends it’s flavors of cherry and
orange, personality to a taste of the ethers.
A display of lavender-pink tones are electric kisses and promenade.
A luminous do-see-do sparks crescendo, a gods warm breath.
The northern winds and the waters echo the notes
sung by the goddess of the dawn as, she dines
and dances her masterpiece upon heaven’s canvas.
Resplendent beauty of Heaven’s smile is etched upon
etched upon the painted sky. This...display,
ecstasy to the human eyes.
Tut, tut, we’ve got ourselves a rain!
The ram pump’s singing songs again.
Up and down it pumps along
The foot valve clanging like a gong.
And it will run until rain slows,
The pond is full and overflows.
I gotta say I love the way
The pump ejects its two arced sprays.
The tanks, high upon the hill,
Have ample room within them still.
And though the rain is near complete,
To play this way is pretty sweet.
Springtime is upon us:
It’s a walk in the park.
The peach trees are showing;
They’re beginning to bud.
But March is a lion
Or a lamb with a bark.
I had high hopes this year,
But it looks like a dud.
The storm clouds are rolling
And the lightning just arced,
And the window for crops
Got slammed shut with a thud.
The rain, like a deluge,
Set a high water mark.
If it doesn’t stop soon,
We’ll be elbows in mud.
With no crop for income,
Our prospects: pretty dark.
We’re not just in the red;
We’re all covered with blood.
And to make matters worse,
Seems I just sold my ark.
Needed space for the truck,
And along comes a flood.
—————
(For the “Pick-a-Title” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
2/10/2022)
Sixteen antique serpentine arced gingerbread corners
delighting the antique seeker who had dreamed of them for years
before they were eventually yet heartily found.
Her heart leaps with happiness as she purchases
the inspiration to finally build her Victorian dream porch.
She watches the clerk wrap these sigmoid-shaped beauties,
knowing they will be the inspiration for the rest of her house.
Fifty-seven years I'd trusted my pins* *legs
to bend to flex, to twist, to spring
my body to soar
to the basket on wings
Then one day as I gathered myself
to take my first shot
I felt my knees go 'creak'
my heart went cold, I felt old and weak
Sure enough, I had barely lifted up off the ground
as for my shot, it arced mostly down
I told my friends I felt a bit out of sorts
And wept for the end of my romance with sports
an ardent desire of flames was burning
its passion held captive within our hearts
the temple of bodies arced in yearning
when fingers became restless like mozart's
melodies played beneath flickers of love
as sparks grew fuller than this moon tonight
more lambent in glow than what shone above
the gleam of those stars in your eyes alight
lit the passageway of your soul therein
I could feel the heat of love searing me
as each glance sparked the flame that burned within
its brilliance blinded me, i could not see
the embers as they lie dying from sight
its death left my soul with a lonely plight
02/09/2020
Sonnet True Love Contest
Sponsored by Brenda Chiri
complicated by your mysterious eyes and then you smiled my way.
incompliant hair, teased by the brawny solar wind, potently alluring.
my pulse swoons at your flawless turquoise eyes, their iconic sway.
i thought i’d play it cooly (let’s be honest beg) give up everything.
your smile arced my way.
your feet followed suit.
my tinman- mouth display
at your provocative pursuit.
your charm like a diamond cave, a knight shining, loosened my mine
— all sparkles from my full mouth of teeth, my gums reveal score.
the stage illuminates, hugs us with its warmth; this fame divine.
you turn out to be sweet and nice, a bit introverted, and i adore.
our hands they touched, electricity in synch, our hearts are complete.
never’d believe how we were meant for each other, when first we’d meet.
2/2/2020
Fiction
Upon the stage, curtains wave and part;
halos arise from black velvet canvas,
an aurora-lime dance.
Arced streamers among the nimbus
lends it’s flavors of cherry and orange,
personality to a taste of the ethers.
A display of lavender-pink tones gift
electric kisses and join the promenade.
A luminous do-see-do sparks crescendo,
a gods warm breath upon the northern winds
and the waters echo the notes
sung by the goddess of the dawn.
She dines and dances her masterpiece
upon heaven’s canvas.
Most nights I come and go in silence
offering temptation to a lover’s glance
Tonight I am the eerie guardian
of children in a mindless sugar-trance.
My narrow grin a rocking chair
for goblin, ghost or witch
My gentle breeze the harbinger
of creaky branches shadow-twitch.
I duck behind dark clouds to laugh
as darkness quells the crowd
then slowly drape their darting eyes
in a moonlit mystery cloud.
I spread my arms in arced embrace
for inclusion is my game
to cast the pilfered glow of sun
upon creeping creatures without name.
The urchin bands will thin and flee
the streets will clear, the voices fade
And I will smile in sated grin
upon this night the moon has made.
©9/27/2019
for Halloween Moon Poetry Contest
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.