Best Air Poems
When miserable clouds assemble,
bursting with drops of sorrow,
gusts of torment bring dark tides to your door.
You feel hope is like forgotten pennies,
lost at the bottom of a wishing well.
Arrows of anxiety keep firing
at your muddled mind.
When you feel trapped inside your head,
monsters lurk inside -
take a pace back.
Release each arrow from the bow.
Let all the pain be washed
by rivers from the rain -
as all bruises heal.
The smell of petrichor will inspire you,
your mind an estuary, hydrating on positive drops,
will replace soaring floods of negative emotions -
as glowing sun rays of love warm your face.
Through anything, through anywhere,
through anyone, reach thunder through your storm.
Let bolts of lightning shake the earth -
ground your soul firmly.
Even when there is no light,
an internal flame yearns to rekindle,
like spring petals kissing dawn's air.
Silent One collaboration with Charmaine Chircop
6 November 2020
Many thanks to Charmaine for collaborating with me. Charmaine is a talented poet who regularly posted on Poetry soup, I hope to see her post more often.
POTW 22rd April 2018
To right the wrongs of love no flawless gauge exists
Though visions unfulfilled can leave one bereft
With tears of remorse for the ones who didn’t show
Or lamenting the ones who came and left
Sparkly wings donned we cruise the starry skies
Crooning songs of love to the silvery moon
Mourning its presence being ~ Too late? ~ Too soon?
Grieving for the ‘dish’ who ran away with the ‘spoon’
Rewrite your song ~ Compose a new melody
Peek through those shades of pearlescent pink
Discard the restraints of unrequited love
Bask in loves splendor ~ lest it goes in a blink
Feel a whisper of the breeze ~ on those thundering seas
The quest starts right here on this night crystal clear
That rusty anchor raise ~ you’ve lingered too long
It’s your ship to control ~ Reclaim the power to steer
I trust you like the music video clip by Australian singer John Paul Young. Still loving the sound of the Disco 80’s
POTW 22rd April 2018
Freedom! Sensuously she spreads her wings,
Floating in glorious glens
Now at one with nature
16th February 2015
Jan Allison
Syllables checked with how many syllables
Contest In Praise of Kimo – Nette Onclaud
~awarded 6th place~
Visual 1
Most people were born with love and concern
~ the real world is more like a nightmare ~
Listening To My Monday Blues
~
we need to turn adversity into opportunity
CHANGE
~ before the sun goes down ~
~ * * * * * * ~
Some have tattoos, others have scars
Everyone has the memories
Five years after several coordinated
terrorist acts shaken Norway on 22 July 2011
The bereaved and survivors still have horrific memories
and miss their loved ones who lost their lives
... One human
...
... The air vibrated
25.07.2016
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Since
I lost all those I love
even my little baby prince
to that heavenly place above,
my writing is my life and all;
from a dark pit I had to crawl
it took me from a vast ghost land,
my sweet MUSE took me by the hand,
now, in serenity I stand.
My writing is my life and all;
from a dark pit I had to crawl.
I pen words from a wounded soul,
my writing giving me release;
from inner talk that wants control,
words take me to a place of peace.
Writing is like breathing fresh air,
my words let me lay my soul bare.
Dark death I push away,
in lush green fields I lay;
yes, writing means more to me - since.
______________________
June 18, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/More to Me Than Air
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1157-640-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Poem of the Day - June 19, 2019
Written for the contest, More To Me
sponsor, William Kekaula
Fourth Place
RECIPE
Tiny, glowing, hot in its skyward climb,
it warms the creatures like morning baked bread,
grows high, dies low, is part of cosmic time.
Flowing, agile, glistening droplets spread,
wet with life, liquid mirror in one song,
splashing high, vast enough to fill a bay.
Light, sailing, lifting lungs it becomes strong,
into sea, in sky, a blue holiday,
thin envelope keeps oxygen inside.
Crusty, thick, ore and fine silica cools,
forms a dirt shell for its earthly fast ride,
botanical in sticky molecules.
Hot flame, wet rain, deep breath in bold granite,
elixir, concoction... rarest planet.
-Edlynn Nau
(Original draft date: September 3, 2018)
As soon as we got to the county fair
The country odor got through my nose hair
Coz above some milk pails
We encountered cow tails
Which filled our senses with their dairy-air
Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air
(Ralph Waldo Emerson)
________________________________________
Cherish the moments, rising on fabric of fuchsia skies,
Painting motifs of amber dawn, dipped in golden sunrise,
In brushstrokes mauve, tinted pink, on opaline skyline;
Where themes heavenly with dreams of morn entwine.
Ride path of sun’s trajectory, soak-in aureate sunshine,
Be amid nature’s mystery, sky-scapes of mystical design;
Rejoice the day, in its prime, revel life’s moments sublime,
Before they wither away, falling prey to reign of time.
Sail the blue waves, synchronize with rhythms of sea,
Undulating with inspiration of tides, vying shores of glee,
Ruminating of paradise, afloat on resplendence, carefree;
Blissful, hearing robins sing, watching butterflies spree.
Be hypnotized, on cusp of twilight, inhale the wild air,
Pulsating from hearts of trees as winds westerly blare;
Be the moment chiming, strumming tenor of breeze,
Snuggling rosy delight, caressing eve’s blush of tease.
Extolling arc of crimson horizon, lost in sun’s goodbye,
As day-decaying beautifies aura, in shades of magenta dye,
Capture the moments blazing fire, ceding to moonlight,
Dipping in the ocean, dispersing glimmer of ruby delight.
embraced by soft winds
white wisps trailing our balloon. . .
we’re touching heaven
For Mick Talbot's Haiku Contest
Don’t memorize things, Einstein said,
if it’s easy to look up instead!
I’ve got taped to my cell
what I still don’t know well:
My own number! Why clutter my head?
This is a true story. From the quote below, I’d say Einstein’s “got my number!”
“Never memorize something that you can look up.”
Slipping into my silver-gray SUV
Nicknamed " Sly Buster Cruiser”
I speed off down the rocky, off-highway road.
Twisting and reeling like my wired mind,
windows down, sunroof open,
(Annie Lennox groveling on the CD player),
reckless noon rays on my chin,
wind on ticklish, naked nape ...
Damn, who cares? I am 19 again?
Shuffling into the 7-Eleven Store
beside the Shell gas station
(With a free wind shield clean-up),
I draw out some bucks for a Philip Morris pack
and a two bottles of beer, plus a Dorito
( the barbecue flavor , please)…
Ain’t a drinker; a smoker on occasion,
but I feel like being reckless and
slightly rebellious ;
I lock the door prepping up for an untamed ride.
Grabbing a spray of cologne mist
and red-violet lipstick from the tote,
my irises roll from the lane to the side mirror,
as I slowly dunk the beer, icy and bubbly
zooming away with hands laughing on the wheels.
Nobody knows me in this place; my ribs shout silently:
This is just all for me; just now, I’ll be.
This is just between me and the edge of a free road.
This is about my navel breathing fire and ice,
It’s about touching danger fast without reason or fuzz
Because later, all this smooth craziness will soon pass.
Back to the same home trail, I rip the cigarette sticks,
slide the unused bottle in my bag
before wiping the red on lips with the Dorito foil…
“ Mommy, Mommy… where have you been?”
I smile as if my skin had chased a tornado…
Dumping the beer on the back porch,
My hand is cleansed by some kind of holy water,
And I start to hug my mischievous girl...
Then off I start to roll the plates on the sinking sink.
`````` `````
Celebrating My Faves Contest
For Andrea Dietrich--Faved by Sponsor
Reposted 4/24/2016
SOCIETY AND THE HOT AIR BALLOON
Them that need to climb
ride as the hot air balloon--
soon come down to earth
© Harry J Horsman 1992
THE VIRTUAL HOT AIR BALLOON
Ride with the rainbow--
silent as the mouse cursor
across Google earth
© Harry J Horsman 2010
air hostess—
her eyeliner's tail pointing
towards the sky
-kash poet(Kashinath Karmakar)
http://www.dailyhaiku.org/haiku/2015-january-25
In the dim-lit alley of the soul's bazaar,
Were jazz and jive spill from ajar,
We tap our feet, snap fingers, under stars,
And speak in verses, raw and without pause.
The city breathes, a living, pulsing beat,
Its heart a drum, its voice a saxophone,
We weave through streets, our words a rhythmic feat,
In its sync with life yet distinctly our own.
We are scribes of midnight's whispered tales,
Our ink, the dreams that dance in smokey air,
Each line is a track on which our spirit sails,
A journey deep, beyond the skin, we dare.
So let us write, with passion as our guide,
Some beat poems, where truths cannot slide.
Then we'll take a carpet ride,
Sail across space standing side by side.
faeries in the air
elves fixing grass quietly
soft springtime magic