Best Alabaster Poems
Untroubled is the quiet night
How peaceful is a world that glimmers white
Frost and moonlight have whipped a silver glaze
And silhouettes of trees are black as ink
The only sign of life are whiffs of breath
I stand transfixed beneath the sky,
to rest my mind with reverent eyes
upon the silky wonderland of snow
Among these masqueraded hills,
the night's aurora soothes my soul
Winter has dressed our world in alabaster white
Familiar landmarks wear a new disguise
And yet, we'll see the sky remains the same
where a thousand thorny sparks have kept their flames
burning low to light the dark
They welcome us like longtime friends.
These polished stars against the sky,
are brilliant new, with points honed thistle sharp
How peaceful is a planet that shimmers bright,
that to stand in voiceless wonder and gaze,
If we were to speak, the crystal world could shatter,
too fragile to bear the weight of words
Crimson's luster illuminates a brilliant bead
satin strokes of beauty a bottle bleeds
scratch softly across this barren chest
and along with moonbeams shall you rest
Silver streaks of goodness held in place
passion's pure pleasure soon will trace
circle past tiny smudges born in haste
where one more night we shan't waste
Starlit moments soar as solace sleeps
dear reflection of radiance forever keeps
in gentle arms of hope true love is staged
consoling promises from battle's waged
Alabaster bursts of heaven gently weave
Another night in comfort we shall receive
Alabaster white, brazen in bold
can’t be bought or sold!
Silent as it is Sinister
somehow that alabaster glows?
Surface, a bony texture; cracks, fissures
like something living once long ago
in antediluvian halls…
A house sits in its red marrow, bone-white walls!
not knowing tomorrow only knowing what is heralded
of bone white, gold intricate
filagree serpentine, imagery!
Of alabaster, old brazen n bold like cast bronze figurines
of unknown deities calling out
to touch fingers tips…
Caress, seeing the texture of bones
cracks n fissures like ancients skulls at rest
this thing of alabaster, cold!
Silently sitting sinisterly.
…alabaster bold somehow defies eons that fold
alabaster white blazing of an unknown…disaster!
Cryptic life resting in antediluvian wombs
a forgotten world borrowed deep
in the red marrow…tombs!
forgotten by tomorrow pushing faster
unknown, cold, old encrusted in
Ancient
...Alabaster
alabaster Rhapsodies
alabaster moon
skips across midnight waters
trails silver ribbons
singing wind song harmonies
with two loons in rhapsodies
5-28-21
Contest: Tanka
Sponsor: M. L. Kiser
Written: May 25, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Silent One
2nd place contest winner
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Quote: "Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.” — By Rumi ( With my honest wishes of a long and healthy life— Very Happy Birthday.
The moon still glows—an alabaster flame,
memory’s mirror, never the same.
Spume drifts, shimmering and bright,
not shadowy, but limpid light.
You watch sunsets and softly muse—
Do you fade, or do you fuse?
Their shades shroud loss and gain,
a peculiar parity of pleasure and pain.
Lessons grasped don’t be acrimonious,
regrets mollified primarily harmonious.
Time’s conundrum teaches clear—
Delicate days are a deep fear.
To your tender time, you’d tell and attire,
Beware quixotry, yet seize the desire.
Do not anathemize your fall—
Failure’s anodyne heals all.
Though tristful shadows at times prowl,
still you liaise with joy, still you howl.
Twilight or dawn, the soul’s refrain—
amaranthine light will remain.
Written: December 29, 2025, for contest sponsored by Line Gauthier
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Alabaster dawn hums a pearlescent melody;
dappled dreams brighten the fading hours.
A wandering breeze lifts a soft-lit tiara,
prowling russet hues that loosen their grip.
Even clamor yields to the bliss of silence
as the year surges, washed in rising radiance.
~*~
alabaster skin
her body pale perfection
she smells like cookies
~*~
Break this
alabaster flask of mine.
Exude
The spikenard of repentance
anoint HIM
who savors the fragrance.
Precious.
Alabaster wings in celestial blue,
glissading on the surface of winds.
Stalking the shore, aerial view,
for luckless winkles and crabs —
briny delicacies.
Lightly ascending
on tapered wings,
seagull sails -
graceful
white.
Susan Ashley
July 17, 2017
She saw through tear filled eyes
The kindness in his own
She heard the witness of
The miracles he'd shown
But her past was full of sin
Of brokenness and shame
That made her so afraid
To call out Jesus name
So instead, to show her love
She knew she'd have to start
By letting go of sin and self
By giving him her heart.
What is in your alabaster box?
What came to you at such a great cost?
You've held onto it so long
And coveted the pain
But Jesus wants to free you
From fear from guilt from shame
Pour it all out now
At his beautiful feet,now bare
Wash them with your tears
And dry them with your hair.
Maybe it's not past sins
you've shut away and bare
maybe it's some hurt
that you've refused to share
now is the right time
while Jesus is so near
to finally let it go
to finally shed your tears
and if you continue to
hold on so tight to your pain
you'll never know the freedom
of how your heart will change
What is in your alabaster box?
What came to you at such a great cost?
You've held onto it so long
And coveted the pain
But Jesus wants to free you
From fear from guilt from shame
Pour it all out now
At his beautiful feet,now bare
Wash them with your tears
And dry them with your hair.
You will always stumble
When you bare a heavy load
All by yourself, all alone
We can depend
on His strength and might
For He said," my yoke is easy
And my burden light"
What is in your alabaster box?
What came to you at such a great cost?
You've held onto it so long
And coveted the pain
But Jesus wants to free you
From fear from guilt from shame
Pour it all out now
At his beautiful feet,now bare
Wash them with your tears
And dry them with your hair.
THE ALABASTER BALL
Earth sent invitations
To a danse one night
Requesting all invited
Please – to come in white.
The glass-coached clouds assembled
And the Ebon Sky
Banked its brightest fire,
Snuffed each candled eye.
Then the Winds belled music
Set a whirling pace
And down the Heavens
Waltzed the Snows,
In their finest lace.
I. The coming storm…
Looking into the distance along a windswept beach. Feeling the vast vault of alabaster sky. High! Feeling the cooling winds, as the waves crash and the clouds boil.
The dark horizon grows as the lightning lances. I feel the coming tomorrows, the things best left undone, unseen, unknown. For I see them not but know the coming relentless like extinction at hand. A void at the end of all. Oblivion.
II. A theory of memory…
I try as I might, to remember to resist to reside in history, a theory of memory. I try to keep all my imagery in boxes like photographs. I sit and look at each, remembering, tears, love, joy, or pain.
I watch the sand roll as a sandcastle built once by me is washed away drifting through my fingertips. I feel a shadow cover me with a gentle sigh and echoes of a giggle a whisper of a kiss?
III. Only alabaster sky…
Looking in your direction, nothing but sand dunes under an alabaster sky. I feel a hand on my shoulder and remember I left the radio in the car. You were to remind me but now no radio is at my side no car upon the dune only alabaster sky.
I feel a little voice whispering daddy come, see and I turn to find only waves stretching to an alabaster sky. I watch the sea and feel its seams where something comes in darkness and lightning. Growing thunderheads.
IV Cloudbust overhead…
I stand waiting for a cloud burst overhead I want to get my face wet its been buried in these hands for years. Cloud burst overhead. I feel myself weightless drifting overhead.
Down these histories in a sea of tranquility and tragedies. Looking into the distance, along a windswept beach. Feeling the vast vault of the alabaster sky. High! Feeling the cooling winds, as the waves crash and the clouds boil.
V. Coming tomorrows…
The dark horizon grows as the lightning lances. Waiting for a cloud burst overhead I feel the coming of tomorrow, the things best left undone, unseen, unknown.
Forgotten. For all, I see them not as they are now but as they used to be. I know there is something coming relentlessly like extinction. Silent as oblivion.
Languishing under…
An alabaster sky,
High!
My regards to Mr. T Dolby
Fragile as alabaster white dry as your sin
so sweet I want to caress to cradle and suffocate.
I feel that dry course texture of alabaster
and sin, the skin you are in, I feel the sand in my teeth…
The tang of its bitter taste the smell of parchment
dry as desolations rage, I recoil at the touch of your alabaster skin.
I feel the bones without and within brittle as suicide of time you sit with that sinister grin n that hellacious light in you inner eyes, spin!
I figure you are the one to be waiting before the son with the blade as sharp and keen slicing your alabester skin.
Slicing away your dry fragments of sin I keep it all in the dry rot of my mind the turn of my stomach
I want to cress and suffocate…
Your candlelight…
The lies that the eyes tell, that watch me caressing your delicate skin all alabaster and white dry as stone and l...
Fragile as alabaster white dry as your skin
so sweet I want to suffocate all, within!
as fragments of you drift
over and around
like the sand
thought
the hourglass…
Alabaster Skin
Alabaster Dreams
Sitting to pen a message dipping her quill
Into the well housing a special perfumed ink
She chose a personal periscope from her diary
My darling Memories of you heat my being to a blush
I dream of your presence once again as your lips
Touch mine filling my reservoir of passion with a kiss
I melt looking into your unbelievable chiseled face
As if, a master carved it from a precious ligure of old
Make haste my love from where you are this day
Leap onto one of the quadrivial paths leading
To the mystical hill upon which I sit waiting
For sounds of hoofs entering the garden gates
For I cannot dream forever
Carole Cookie Arnold
07/14/2013
Shadow Hamilton’s contest
Any Subject
Under the glow of a rising moon,
my garden hedge morphs into a maze.
And brisk breezes gather fallen leaves;
crafting a colorful mosaic.
On the wings of a marble Angel,
the glitter of gold catches my eye.
For beaming from an ebony sky,
Luna gilds its alabaster wings.
Staring at this miraculous sight,
I felt hypnotized by its beauty.
And although the image was fleeting,
it overwhelmed my reality.
This ethereal light illusion
imbued my heart with wonder and awe.
For in that perfect moment, Nature
chose to share Her artistry with me.