At first, the purple sunshades hide where dreams cling,
the mind is distracted by how night's feeling,
it drifts along asleep on soft feathered wing.
Now, crimson blood spurts were shapes are annealing,
form re-appears, through razor sharp, edges and seams,
the self slowly stirs, to begin the healing.
Red ochre breaks through, streaming in bright light beams,
piercing the veil, as purpose begins to rise,
shaking the cinders to scatter ash-gray dreams.
Orange inflames the will behind shut eyes,
to rush right in, to show what it held on hold,
sending hot flames aloft, to lighten dark skies.
Yellow crowns the day-break with buttercup gold.
The mind and soul, now awake, can stand up bold!
Cruelty wears a crown in a cloaked place,
cold-blooded grins behind mirrored faces.
Remorse walks the halls bartering tattle while I fracture.
They crowned me in shame, but
within a queen still rises.
They buried me in a fire of hell,
But like ash-gray smoke, I rise and swell.
I am the silence of the crown,
gone through ups and downs
stumbled in the dark multiple times
but my spirit still my heart and mind.
I am a teacher, a child, a guardian and a shadow behind my past.
But a strong woman who will still rise from the stillness of darkness.
Inside of me multiply like smoke and breathe:
into silence of forgiveness and hope.
Yes, still I rise, a whisper stitched in storm-
a sovereign spirit-fearless and warm.
The tortured self becomes the flame
not burned but lit beyond their shame
like the shimmering star, shining bright afar!
This is me, a version of being a woman in time and forever be!
scarlet moments
in late evening
turns
ash gray
as
temperamental
winds gather,
display,
placing themselves
in concentration,
obnoxious
and overbearing
in nature,
intruding,
fully challenging
the outcome
of the night.
Thru cracks in the clouds
whitish sun glints
No warmth issues forth
barren rock without flint
Clouds return ash-gray
no matter I squint
despondent sun keeps away
done, today's stint
Once, there was a time when I wallowed in darkness
wading in the shallows of my flaws, I confess.
Shadows of hovering ravens were my only friends.
I was lost in time as stars died, but made amends
by untying myself from yesterdays to stop crying.
I stopped living in a morass as if I were dying.
Many who remain tethered to their past try hiding
but freedom will take flight in those hearts confiding.
There is a gentle wind that blows through a soul
leaving glittered traces of stardust to make it whole.
Whispers murmur to wings that brighten the gloom,
lifting the muddled veil of death so life can resume.
No longer do I cringe at the dreary thought of death
or gasping for air as if I were drawing my last breath.
One day I will fall as carrion, my body lying supine
and I become a banquet feast where many might dine.
If feathered creatures circle me in skies of ash gray,
who then will come to chase the hungry ravens away?
As August day darkens with sunset
There are always those
Who cannot let go of the summer
The sail of the boat on Torch Lake
First a yellow flame
To the match of last sunray
Now
With the hills extinguishing last light
Sail becomes ash gray of a hard rain
Dissolving to black night
No guiding lights
To save it from the innocent
A pirate ship of skull and bones
Held captive to the noose
Of the windless
The cannon of universe
Finishes it
Bombards the lake with falling stars.
The beauty fades, fades, fades away
Treatments, surgery, balms, Beaujolais
Only delay ever-creeping decay
The face now ash gray ~ vanished her day
July 26, 2020
Four Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
A nice, curious white woman
asked Georgie me why
me no happy ta-day
I wore me nine-year-old frown
monkey-bar yea high
Lil’ black children grow up dat way
Me answer ta her,
was a look up ta da sky
Bad weather thoughts was commonplace every say
White clouds were getting dark,
angry wetness was windy scowl descending
upon da burning bush ‘brellas: A multiply torrent non-delay
Lightning spit attitudes,
electric hate always on da downpour
Dark blue sky news were turning me parent’s hair ash-gray
Thunder sirens ever on da scream,
black dove children have da most awful cage dreams
And it seems ta be, me elders got mo’ tear reckoning ta pay
So you pearly smile ask
man-child me why
ain’t no sunshine rainbow-ing in me life, ghetto what may?
You too would platinum blonde cry,
if you had ta shoulder da grief
me little heart have endured fo’ only just a short while every pray
A sad, recurring reel scene —
Edited ghetto playground sounds
happening everyday: The scarred heart healing of broken pottery clay
I Saw Hurt Speak So Loud
I saw hurt speak so loud,
as you stood weak but proud.
Your sad eyes told me more,
red stains on your front door.
I sought to touch your soul,
stop the loss and its toll.
Win your heart, join to mine,
on sweet love we would dine.
Hope in each heart and breast,
we spoke, love did the rest.
From loss, look of ash gray,
we held hands, knelt to pray.
Spring came, we wed as two,
as love's gift was our due.
Day brought light and much more,
nights spent on safe new shore.
Life then gave joy to live,
we each sought true to give.
Now with our hearts in line,
love's depths, each day will shine.
2-07-2018,
for SilentOne's 120 words contest
DUST
Dust falls like snow, so cold
Sneaks its secrets under beds
Dyes old men and old lady heads
Covers long ago legends and lore
Dust in her eyes, behind pennies
Dust below his grieving feet
Collecting dust in urns
Wiping windows ashen streaked
Foreheads ash gray on Wednesday
In shape of a cross “remember you are dust,
And to dust you shall return”
Do you seek forgiveness or blindness in the dust?
Shaken dust flakes fall
Forever and ever
Felicitous and unencumbered
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
Lost. Numb.
Empty.
Wandering aimlessly....
Lifting my eyes I see
A vast, parched, dead land,
And an ash gray sky.
Stopping, I hear
The howling wind, whistling a
Hollow, distant sound.
Bending, I feel
It stinging my bare skin.
My hair whipping my cheeks.
Looking up, I gaze
At stars appearing,
Winking, mocking.
The night is falling.
I turn my head and
Look behind me, hoping
Against hope to see
You.
I see nothing.
Something breaks and I start thawing....
So I sit down and
hug myself instead.
And berate myself for following my heart
When I should have followed my head.
Is Beethoven's ensemble fairer than nature's psalms?
Amidst a crowning sun: ears and eyes are drugged,
drenched with tender notes, orchestrated by greens,
inhale deep, the aromatic blossoms from the vine
with their lilting swell, brushed shades of fine wine.
Listen, listen to the sudden leap, the vibrato of bird song
or the raucous winds rubbing against house-corners
and the blithering brook carrying tales of who?
As you walk attuned to the crunch of the brown foliage.
When the cobalt skies turn to ash - gray mode,
hear heaven's vault lament, drizzling sobs to loud weeps
when day's face in angst pout or blush beside the beloved.
Feel your feet push or pull deluged by the liquid fingers
of the sea; in whites, they murmur ripples. They tremble
and stir, savor the flavor, a brief interlude:
Nature's power: tones, sharps, curls, pants. It slants
aiming to reach a rest upon blues of sky at its zenith,
The darting patterns curves, verves are diapered
wanting to delight, to wonder, to shock, to soothe.
Undisturbed, in this single cell
Sketches of astral thoughts, can’t tell
Nor harvest a will to value its cost
Through spiral walls, winds are lost
Apparels of ash gray, inept sleeves
Strings mocking, like fallen leaves
Nor tears, nor sigh, nor laughter
Shall kiss thine eyes before and after
Decor in frames of blood and nails
Youthful attempts, to climb the scales
Only in company, of thy seven selves
Each liberated to write, on life’s shelves
How useful are the nights of thy grief
Dethrone a king, thus, burdens relief
Discarding fragments of past, once dread
Upon stone and mortar, I rest my head
Hath freedom and shame pierced thy side?
Bezaleel,”Shall the souls of lovers,ever collide?”
Would architectural tears, ocean my solemn wish?
Thus, in light of thine covenant, grant thee a kiss
Down the old road a lantern turns ash-gray
bulb angled like pendulum
clinging on darkened sill.
With rainfall drowning the fragrance of trees,
my eyes grow weeds as light dims
on rake of brittle thoughts.
Through My Window Contest
18 Jan 14
from Franco Gonza
I hear the low hum of gray
As it moves across the sky
Forming rain clouds up high
As rumbling chants gather to darken the day
Then a charcoal hue of thunder breaks the silence
Rattling all other colors in its presence
The sounds of tambourines play as raindrops fall
As drumbeats of platinum echo off the wall
Cymbals crash as silver raindrops increase
A melody that is sure to shatter the peace
As trombones join this symphony of grays
While ash gray sounds of thunder play "taps" upon the day
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.