Best Alluding Poems
MUSTANGS
The ground shudders, and shakes,
Under pounding hooves.
Echoing against canyon walls.
Fast and furious wild hearts beat,
Keeping equal pace, with the prairies,
Wide divide.
From within hell's fiery furnace,
Tempered muscle drives motions sinew.
Behold evolution's die hard breed,
Built for no other purpose except,
Excessive Speed.
Racing along at razors edge,
Accelerating testing endurance's,
Brute strength.
Mustangs roam god's vast expanse,
Deserts devils burning blazing trails.
Encounters ghostly figures, dwelling amongst,
Forbidden territories reservations.
Dust clouds shadow creatures alluding,
Humanities intensive detection.
Harnessing destiny's forgotten beasts,
Freedom's native horses challenging,
Limitless domain.
Blackened pitch melting seamlessly,
Mixing with hewed grays.
Heaven's canvas erupts.
Storms rage splits lightening’s,
Aftershock,
Herding horse flesh towards,
Maximum Resolution.
Divine specters haunting thunders,
boarder lands, slick footed range warriors.
Traveling hidden roads ancient paths.
Natures raw power hardens brutalities
Magnificence.
Rival Arabians fight to prove dominates.
One lone stallion stands, dark bristling mane,
Brushed by evenings cooling breeze.
The leader takes cliffs highest plateau.
As silences experienced guardian,
He watches cautiously.
Resting at sunsets twilight hour,
Quenching thirsts, unyielding desires.
Next to waters crystal streams they ease.
Gently relieving tension's strains
Beside one another.
Comforts unity beneath reflective,
Moonlight's softness.
Mares and colts whinny in graduates,
Thanks.
Soon it shall come upon them,
Once more.
Dawn's rays cross horizons palette,
Under universal skies.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Shall I follow the setting sun
and know just one,
so beautiful, tis true
in coral hues,
but lost without the morning?
Perhaps I could, at break of dawn,
towards west move on,
through glistening dew
smell coffees brew
while Sandman's dreams alluding.
Or retreat south at North's first blow,
never knowing snow;
the various shapes
of delicate flakes;
feeling not, a warm fire glowing.
I must, instead, stand perfectly still
to see and feel
what each day brings
to reach my dreams;
each season of life in the making.
Disrupting the general flow of the ruby blaze,
As ghosts, there are shadows in the haze.
Air-filled skeletons, bone-filled skull,
Sneaking in the shadows, stained by the dull.
Alluding to cruel as zesty and delicate as sour,
Lying expertise of apt words and clear power.
Like a bursting fire against a robotic device,
A chaotic request is like blossoms and tree slice.
I'm cruising through a vast ocean of worry,
And scream at the swift currents of destiny.
Consistently, news shows up in a foaming rage,
Which my reasoning could then arrange!
I succumb to impulsive complex troubles,
From across the world, there were struggles.
Keeping trust that others will concur with me,
I'll make certain to convey to you my sincerity.
Since that bear near what will mend desire,
In return for virtuous air and no nuke dire.
For journalese, there last saporous sighs,
Which deal the world may aim for arise.
Probe into my modern Coronavirus flyswatter,
Who am I behind the hazy mask marauder?
Turn into a fellow of the New World mastery,
A nonhuman, scared, and iron-fisted society.
Consuming rotting husks to fill their stomach,
Inadequacy's meal served in dirty dumb luck.
As vacant hoists in cobwebs made of whin brace,
These remain the terms of dozing brilliance.
Written: April 08, 2022
1st Place contest winner
New World Order Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Have you ever longed to go
to the place, “oh, I don’t know”
where never is already over
and the things missing, you discover
were done yesterday.
Where contempt is color blind
and shades and gray, oh my,
are better left behind intangible myriads
of wasted day-----the why of which
eludes me!!!. While the illusions
of truth, weigh heavy in cognizant
apparitions alluding to the
piercing light of righteousness
from the source, always just out of sight.
Yet in plain view of the few who
need him to be there and ready
to pick them up from the pits, of
“oh, I don’t know”- but I know they
are there waiting. Get a life?
No, we had a life and blew it.
Give the baby a chance. He won’t
fight it. Give the squirrel and the tree
a chance, they will delight in it.
Give the day and the light a chance.
The grey evening won’t miss
being as dead as we are.
Give life a chance.
and love, and peace.
yes, and love.
Jan 8 2013
There is so much deception
Diluted reflections,
Alluding to perfection
But denying the resurrection,
Changing what was formed during conception,
While claiming they are an exception.
It’s only a matter of time,
Before the righteous shine
For these trials are benign
In the grand span of time.
All these tests,
Bring forth the best,
And separate us from the rest.
Some think they are so blessed
But they are goats, I must confess
They are breaches in this mess.
Selling daughters
To the Order
Draping sin
In fine linen
Making love… a financial gain
While your sons go insane
Drinking blood sacrificed to demons
Making wealth off a man’s seaman.
Idolatry clothed in the "common good"
Many have forsaken what God said they would.
Perfecting holy words to fit a style
Don’t you know God says its vial?
Fear of man rather than the one
Who can cast you to hell and heal your son.
The infinite power, love and grace
Has suddenly been altered and replaced
By doctrines of devils and smooth operators
There is only one God and the rest are all haters.
But many go along with the times,
As if time won’t stop and require a fine.
We all have a date with an eternal fate,
We all have a dance with an eternal romance.
The question is what kind of dance will you eventually partake
Will it be pearly white gates or a fire filled lake?
By: Sabina Nicole
Are we there yet?
Dark isn't; yet the night..!
Black though; desires are.."
Deeper shaded than perceptions..
Illusions alluding; pretending unto inclusion
Despite the truth precluding..
Yet there we are..!
copyright Joe Maverick.co.uk
I would have liked to have been able to put a question mark
in the title of this write; but as we know I could not, so I had
to do a repeat title on the poem page I think it detracts from the write though.."
Bitter by ; being mentally bruised and battered most of my life,
shaken with fright without a single soul to help me
through the troubles unseen horrors of the night,
from an evil source that I fear to strike.
But as the evil forces, who limited my choices
that when I found my stallion horses.
Swiftly it came to my head I can run and I cannot hide,
feeling the Beast closing in on every time I decide to hide.
Tired of running and tired of alluding this
relentless creep as my red bolt eyes weep
feeling rest-less, likes a lonely defeated warrior from his home in retreat
that is when I knew it time to rest, to release my Beast.
But in a fight, I may not win however as I cast out my dirty words sin
I made sure it felt my impact, to the bloody end.
by Keith Kadell
DEFORESTATION
~~
Topical Tree Poetry
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Deforestation rife!
From copse to woodlands
And trees on their own suffer the knife!
Deforestation rife!
Rainforest to jungles,
Arboretums to parklands suffering strife
Deforestation rife!
There is suffering unseen.
To all macro, micro, wildlife.
Deforestation rife!
The whole world pays,
yes you, if you're married your wife.
Deforestation rife!
Nothing is safe, trees breathe for the world.
Time we all stopped living a trife life.
Deforestation rife!
Life now desperate, let's stop the felling.
Make living our plight
log
fell
chop
copse
logged
chopped
afforestation
deforestation
greening
~~~~~~~~~
'Topical Tree Poetry: Defined'
A new form of poetry invented by me, (Mick E Talbot), utilising, the 'shape' poetry format overall, (in this instant the 'Concrete' form as the word tree is referred to in the poem). Using the 'snowball' poetry form for the trunk, and any form that makes for a good canopy. The subject material must be "topical", ie, trending, current, historical, events.
The format: The canopy; any form of poetry, 1 stanza, no restraint on the number of lines. Lines not to exceed 12 syllables.
The 'trunk'; a form referred to as a snowball. It starts with the smallest word alluding to the topic, then using synonyms increase in size by 1* letter, ending in an antonym, refer to my example poem. The whole must be centered.
* Try to make the trunk branchless, the odd knobbly bump or hole not a problem. (The latter will happen at times).You can by hitting the space bar make the branch/es, hole/s appear on one side of the trunk, Or the other, just an afterthought ;-) Mick
GHOST MIRRORS
Ghostly images captured within the prism of reflected light,
Ethereal waves rippling against reality’s framed surface
Of the translucent, as phantom hands press, slamming at
The fragile glass of dualities deadened zone of existence!
A sudden shimmering, in the beguiling mirror of illusions,
As in the icy eerie chill of this frozen man made pool of
Optical delusions, something within shifted and moved!
Disembodiment's outcasts to incisions resistance, cut at
The bitter edge of the graves stone marker, are these
Silhouette shadow beings, trapped within clarities maze
Of solid crystal!
Black sheets haunted, hidden behind the spiritual mirrors
Of religion, encasement's prison of soulless mists, a vaporous
Cage without iron bars, nor steels reinforcement, these are
The lost or damnation's cursed unto the light of salvation!
What skeletal keys can unlock these dimensional doorway,
And just where is the keyhole to fit, this illusionary anomaly?
At the shutters sudden flash, in ethereal creature slides
Across the screen of realities review mirror, a dark
Hauntings presence that alluding the neck eyes detection!
A dead man’s situation lies exposed, by the elemental
Reflection of lights retraction, hidden beneath the graveyards
Bones of the unsolved murder!
Within the winds of the whistling breeze, hear the unruffled
Cries of fates lost children, crying out for justices guiding
Light to save them, from the disembodied hands of their
Tormentors!
Running children of the ethereal night, whom rage in
Vengeance, against the glass prism of shattered light,
Weeping in devastation's despair, for their loss of life eternal!
At the flashing neon point of no return, the devils forsaken
Sake at the tempered glass of realism, clamoring to be
Recognized for once existing!
Within the four squared frame of reality, dwells the
Infinite pool of the ethereal realm, and in its rippling
Waves, phantom faces are shone in the tormented poises
Of the after life’s jail cell, without the possibility of
Paroles final tender mercy!
Ghostly images captured within the prism of reflected light,
Ethereal waves rippling against reality’s framed surface
Of the translucent, as phantom hands press, slamming at
The fragile glass of dualities deadened zone of existence!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
BEWARE THE MONTH OF HALLOWEEN IS COMING
“ You know; you look like someone else ”
Was the first thing she said
I never did ask, just who, I reminded her of
Say romance fornicated in the guttering of a candle
And its flame lay in all the rivulets of melted wax
We were the twin coupling of paper straws
As we sipped the sweet nectar
And our tongues lay heavy laden with its sugar
So we basked in the reflection
Of each others mirror
It still troubles me
How in one another’s puppetry
We were just so much the condensation of syrup
Clinging cold to the cardboard cup
And even though our fingers
Could have shamed the bonfires we built
We were nothing more than a mirage
On the horizons of love
Promise me your soul in forever wants
Between the sheets of passion and someone else
All wept in falsehoods with the petals of lilies
And heavy laden tongue now lay split in iron railings
“ You know, you remind me of someone ”
It troubles me still
How we sank with such poetic and tragic quills
Deep to the depths of our own dark inkwells
Never having breached onto a naked shore
Never having ever really, truly, held each other
We were a spasm, a searching for
Alluding to a succinct intonation of meaning
Written playful, colourful on headlines and posters
Fast food prerequisites
To fill the emptiness
Momentarily in some desperation of sincerity
We shared each other’s
Slush Puppy
chipping and hacking
sawing and sanding
this is the life of a creator
these are his sounds
a cacophony of hustle and bustle
a primal link to the past and an eye on the future
ever striving for a land bridge between the two
like ancient explorers of the human condition
back and forth
to and fro
sweeping arm movements packed with energy
eye's steady and intense gaze resting on the immediate
standing on the precipice, the gateway of creativity
ready to push the boundaries of the possible one more time
forging potentials in the foundry of insight
molten heat emanating from the source of inspiration
leaving trails across le atelier in vibrant, living color
once more into the fray.....
a chance to become something more
a demigod, replete with all the powers
to cast off these earthly shackles and take one's rightful place
amongst the Apollonian and Dionysian pantheon
standing shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Giacometti, Rodin and Michelangelo
basking in their eternal aurora of shimmering crystalline streaks of productivity
leaving traces of ocular delight along the way
but always leaving something to be desired
just out of reach and unattainable, alluding to greater grandeur
scaling the philosophical peaks and traversing the political spectrum
to unify the scattered, to join the fragmented, to give voice to the oppressed
saying something with nothing
directing the viewer's eye with subtleties
emphasizing silence with space and void
painting and glazing
soldering and welding
hands steadily guiding and grinding
unearthing the inert qualities laying dormant, waiting to be revealed
commanding that the materials speak and be known
this is a life worth living
this is the life of a creator
The Pollen of my life is sweetened-
Passed from bee to bee
Friendly flowers form a beacon
(My Queen beams humble-ly)
I feel alive; so bold inside-
Life is sweet in honey-hives!
Poppies bloom, a serum soon
Beckons forth my Soul to thrive!
*Just wondering if anyone can guess to what I am alluding? I will crown thee an astute observer as a prize ;)
Seeing sculpture compared to painting
Contrasted imagery alluding to victory
With victor being both man and animal
Subservience dominates both images
Bare head and feet noticeable to viewer
A horse head raised; the other lowered
Who are these men and beasts?
Smug facial expression common to both
Though can a horse hold airs superior
To rider upon his back, dominated?
Both larger than life, one four legged
One dressed aristocratically, they stand
Victorious in unknown battle, while other
Remains forever weary, worn, and tired
We shall never know their stories
Their images captured for posterity
Eternally the dominant and dominated
Two men and two horses compared
Two lives and circumstances contrasted
Beasts and their mounts and masters
Of human flesh; of horse flesh together
Beautiful this artwork upon mine soul.
© 2014 CM Davidson
[On the comparison of Donatello’s Equestrian Monument of Erasmo Da Narni (1443-1453) and Anthony van Dyck’s Charles I at the Hunt (1635)]
the tongue is just another muscle
gives strength to what we think
amidst life's daily hustle bustle
helps thoughts to words interlink
so the father with his mother tongue
speaks to progeny generations come
lessons learned to offspring young
good ways to live, his rule of thumb
still would wince at his tongue lashing
flinching, blinking, cowering and meek
if shouted anger from lips came flashing
'stead of old man's jokes, tongue-in-cheek
but before I become too tongue-tied
some tongue twister squarely knotted
I'll place my tongue-in-cheek aside
to address these words I've jotted
and tell of my admiration for tongue
no forked tongue falsehood to relate
some silver tongued notes clearly sung
of glossa tongues and hooks and baits
that lovely lingual muscle hydrostat
can do things fit for moans and groans
I can hint, alluding to this and that
of things we tongue like flesh and bones
I think you'll agree with my observations
presented to you, from my mind sprung
and think of your own tasty applications
many things budding the tip of your tongue
© Goode Guy 2011-07-04
Do your ears hear-
tiny movements very near?
Do your eyes see-
every millisecond, a different me?
Do your senses acknowledge-
the spasmodic shifts of energy?
Wavelengths and balance-
universal constant change,
can it be?
Illusions engulfing empty space,
as if everything has only one designated place.
~~
Allusions alluding a mass confusion,
as if insanity has no restitution.
No substitution for the damage these waves cause;
just for a second-
i wish i could pause.
instead i applaud the controller of waves,
controlling this place-
an endless madness beyond time and space.
- CS | -TC