Best Allusive Poems
She returns my gaze when I'm too restless to sleep
a lustrous pearl mounted, deep set in a sapphire sky
I lie awake in my room, papered in spider spun silk
Slumber is allusive to us tonight; the moon and I
I wonder what thoughts she holds in her heart
Surely not man's doctrine of trivial pragmatism
Not by the one who rules the tide's ebb and flow
Her mellow glow is a healing ointment of chrism
No litter, no rules, no society scent,
just peninsula pure soul content, ideally lent.
Awed and wowed with arms stretched wide,
I stand on Key’s narrow road, on narrow land,
surrounded by two sea gems and their sand.
This dream road sea-drowns, down south’s horizon
and thrills my innocence without even trying.
Western growth is dense and a fence in Gulf’s yard.
Her wave’s sirens are blue-salt diamonds
and I am mesmerized by their titan climbing.
East unfolds turquoise enchantments unmarred –
The playful, poetic Atlantic off guard,
bewitching and hypnotic in regard.
Dazzled, I sit in the sea, shoulders deep.
Powder soft ocean floor thrones me nicely.
I could sit the day in this sea so sultry.
Flirty, allusive, emerald joys leap
as languid, luscious wet meets sun’s glee,
sending my senses high where memories keep.
These expressive ocean blues and greens
are of patterns and ways, I have never seen.
Sensual and graceful, each sea touch is delight –
as soothing in feel as pleasure in my sight.
Before me spreads endless bounty of ocean glean.
Under Florida-kissed skies, I sit wet and serene.
I pursued a butterfly through the woods.
It fluttered, just always beyond my reach.
The more I pursued, the more it teased.
Stalking it, like prey, it just fluttered away.
I found a moss covered log to rest,
Sitting in a serene, secluded spot.
A butterfly came ,sat upon the log.
I caught it in the palm of my hands.
It's wings became a rapid flutter,
Trying to escape my grasp.
I opened my hands , freeing it.
If we pursued things in life,
They become unattainable.
If we sit quietly and reflect,
they become attainable.
Chasing our dreams may be
as allusive as the butterfly.
Finding them as beautiful as the butterfly.
Life, an infinite continuum
feeding on its own death,
and we, self glorified in its midst,
on knife's edge of infinity,
daydream reflections of time,
mirrored images that seem like two,
are only one wheel of life and mortality;
parallel realities whose paths cross
like wisps of wind...
Generations think they are new
yet we are all of one time -
like prose and poems written
in separate centuries, but
of the same struggle.
We fly in different directions
though toward the same destination,
while roses are more difficult,
more allusive to stop and smell.
Time is spent and lost on
the insignificant,
rather than the minuscule wake
of a flotilla of leaves on the pond,
or the reflection of the sky beyond.
Beneath the leaves, the roots of lily pads
and the stare of a wary carp who looks
from his world as we do from ours.
The clock chastises me,
as painted petals bloom brilliance
in illuminated wonder that attempts
escape from the hidden crevices
deep within my beleaguered mind.
The beauty I seek is but an allusive dream,
flowing rags of worthless chattel
that fill me with words, heavy, like stone,
my rhymes but pointless emotional prattle.
Yet, still my need must pursue that dream
to create another verse so sublime as to define
me as me in a world filled with poetic doppelgangers
and, so, I write just one more sad, lonely line.
"Extant nectared incense she lit, burning inside, slow but alone,
Arrogant me, let her leave, as here I sit, awaiting the unknown."
Clever, perhaps, but are my words,
like the melancholy song of the lonely Lune,
beautiful?
Geez, or should I say jeez, no Cuneiform here,
shall I try once more...
"crystalline sparkles
achromatic winter jewels
spring paints with colors"
...to bring out in me that which,
through these many years of seeing
my world ravaged with emotional upheaval,
still, in its turn, allowing me to experience
love and enchantment from eyes
that held me in the warmest embrace.
"I see the storm as rage engulfs those lovely eyes,
the blue intrepid sea of passion's lost release.
Inside, the tears of torment flow to sooth the lies,
yet, pain remains in every moment's wish for peace.
As burning anger seethes inside of you
the path it seeks obscures your point of view,
and leaves the ragged scars of bitter love
left blurred like mist in sodden clouds above.
Emotional, these moments steal your gentle heart
and eat in to the darkened void that once was you,
but misplaced hate can not keep you and I apart,
when, with my shroud of love, your heart I will eschew.
I hope you'll see just how I feel for you,
for you are why I do these things I do."
Crap!
Total
crap I read!
and I chuckle
as I re-read it.
In a single sonnet,
iambic hexameter
and iambic pentameter,
the Bard must be turning in his grave;
I guess I'll have to try another day.
08/15/2018
Lacking
Lacking eloquence
Lector lacking
Bullfrogs and lemmings crooning
In the swamp of dim intellect
Spewing their haughtiness
Through their noses the spittle drops
Collecting in murky waters
Their stagnation hiding within their bubble of hate
When the swamp dries lest it be said
No one will be opening heavens gate
One can not persuade a mind painted in black
They the commoners’ collect like old dishes
On a dirty rack
Should the Cellarer ever turn his back
Plato’s will attack in their packs
Airs of allusive elegance
Slipping away into the darkness
Of extinction
For those with black hearts and feeble minds
They shall never see the ends of times
Only when the white rose comes to full bloom
Shall the meek and kind find their true home
They shall be with angels above
As those assemble in the quire
Songs melodic under the arch
Brothers plotting after songs depart
Time eternal yet as always coward’s preach
Solace coming from wisdom's speak
Their persuasion lacking sincere tone
As the sinners lay underneath cold stone
Once the crimson eastern sky lost
That was the morning guiding star.
Lilac hobbit, Kismet Gem plains, and frost.
Cyan sea-painted eyes to rainbows dare.
Revived ecstasy and increased optimism
Sighing for you, my wingless moon vibe.
The breath of trees and bushes alike a prism,
sweeps away the glistening dew of the tribe.
Nature as whole bows before her might.
Alas, it brings harmony to the polar seasons.
Even when love fades, this rib cage lights.
Glowing alike rain all for the right reasons.
Cephalic rooms nourish hope tame sobbing.
and heals by humming the placid air.
Pastel lilac buds grow with ivory twigs trembling.
to sustain poise via a window-peeking stare.
Ductility, time, and youth view shadows pass.
Broken love's cocoon awakens at the prime dawn.
and stroll through woods, leaping over cut grass.
Pain larvae were spinning on the moon lawn.
Despite the song's silence... to bless this ritual.
Your heart begins to beat as the thorns bough.
Your soul prevails over the most spiritual.
I couldn't stop the peasant behind a plow.
Have a snout and wings alike a winged liege.
Awakened cosmic butterfly, a myth I love.
Aglow is an allusive, alluring antidote to besiege.
Awaken to the bliss of silence from above.
Bumblebees mood, pollinating in the haze,
wildflower with a fading lavender cloud
By night, savor the moon and the stars gaze.
As you float over the woods, learn to be proud.
Written: February 28, 2023
The day is conceived,
tossed bedsheets birth landscapes.
Apelike, a grin gawps.
In the backroom of a slow thought
I dress for breakfast -
recall the tropics,
sticky rice, coconut milk and
one huge river prawn,
all wrapped in a banana leaf.
Slipshod I slip away from that world
adjusting my internal optics.
A blueberry muffin with honey
on a checkered tablecloth,
lashings of watery sunshine.
That was yesterday or last year.
time can be as allusive
as a bottomless eggcup.
This absolute and irrevocable morning,
my gut burns from cheap Canadian whisky.
A mirror implanted into a watching mind
reflects only my belly flop
as I leg crawl into pants.
Less feral creatures than we castaway suburbanites,
gather to forage as the sky climbs
over the hedgerow.
I had a strange dream,
It could have been last night
or a faraway fear
returning from a place no-where near.
Maybe it was only a shadowland
cast upon a cranial wall,
a peeling mural
upon which sermons and bibles
were hung like bats
from dead apple trees.
The kitchen counter
has a note on it:
“Gone to church, there’s
bread in the toaster
we have run out of butter – love you.”
There is an over-ripe banana
by the coffeemaker.
I eat it.
In unconsciousness, where shadows prance,
An elusive dream, a furtive trance,
Weaves its tendrils through my mind,
Lingering with longing I cannot find.
Evasive visions, forever out of reach,
Dreams like tomorrows never breach
Their resolve to never come into being,
Never see daylight, but do lie-in within, unseeing.
For when you chase and lure a dream,
To become reality, it fades and loses its gleam.
The closer you get, the more it alludes you,
Like a shadow, its only stuck on to you, with glue.
So cherish your dream as an allusive desire,
An elusive enigma, a destiny, to which you can aspire.
Trifle the thoughts living on a breeze
hearts darken twist a loving soul
eased down an anchored way
can't you feel the sway
Oh mother, hear my calls
muttered in a muted melody
Pulse, held for dear thee thou
leaving dotted lines, symbiotic
airs of allusive elegance
Imbed out an echo of relief
nether real nor silenced hope
exchanged, changed, or rearranged
resistant to extinction
slip away, go slip away
So cloyingly allusive and eagerly timid!
Life is full of chances
But the number is not known,
Careful steps and sideward glances
Voice our fear of the unknown.
You've never played this game before
You do not know the rules,
Ant through each hand you’ll learn to name
The aces and the fools.
So when you reach the road that split
And grapple with your doubting mind,
You roll the dice of guess and wit
And gamble with the wind.
Life is full of choices
But the answers have been blurred
And the world, the world of voices,
They will echo to be heard.
The sky is never clear to see
Beyond each menial task,
And so allusive destiny
Approach you with a mask.
So when you've drawn your lot, advice
And once more, unsure, glance behind,
You take a breath and roll the dice
You gamble with the wind.
This table had been worn with scars
Its players left behind,
Where gamblers gambled through the years
The gamble of the wind.
So think before you cast the dice
And blindly draw the blind’s advice
For there will be a price.
Before you listen to the voice
And take the chance and make the choice,
Before you guess you have to see
Your bet is your eternity
So think before your name is signed,
Before you gamble, gamble, gamble, gamble
Gamble with the wind.
I find it quite strange
how so many people
desire drastic change:
Change would be so simple!
Change would be terrific!
Yet when I ask them,
what kind of change,
they leave out specifics
saying,
"Change is what we need
and change is for the better!
Staleness has gotten old
like an ugly Christmas sweater!
At this point in time
any change at all
would most likely do;
I care not what that entails
just as long as it's something
shiny and new!"
But pray tell, I'd wish you stop and ponder
what it is you're convinced is greener
out there in yonder.
Bigger house? Shinier car?
More fashionable attire?
Perhaps some allusive 'she'
whose heart you could admire?
Some people want to change
until the day they die.
While old-fashioned me,
can't help but wonder why?
Let us never exercise the thought of changing!
Let us be as mountain rivers ceaselessly flowing!
Do you recall what the seed said
before it became a tree:
some dream of changing,
I dream of growing.
3rd of November
Sleepy day
Ragweed and bitters
Time drips away
Spigot of rum
Rotten limes
In the sink
Missed you again
Newspaper flies
Obits and sports
Lay in the dirt
Dog barks next door
What the hell for?
Cigarettes and coke
Scattered like quail
Across the coffee table
TV is on
CNBC
The news is not good
I missed you again
10 days have gone
Since you left
I can’t get right
This buzz in my head
Adrift and alone
I call on the phone
To a voice I don’t know
Says you’re not all alone
Day turns to night
The “friends” reappear
Another night of whiskey and beer
I hope when I wake
I won’t have missed you again
You are so damn allusive
This life you call dear
My cottage becomes a mystical Universe In retirement beyond the World.
Eminently perched along side the river Towy,
Lie’s my True Idyll.
I survey the ever changing landscape,
from here to where the river reaches
“The Sky.”
Below, shimmers of waters. That ever flow
and flow without pause.
Only to be broken, by the splashes of the
allusive Brown Trout whilst feasting upon
the hatching of the Elegant May Fly.
In broken channels Salmon lie, in their
quest to swim upstream to spawn
“ as many will die.”
Above us ‘ Day-Blind Stars ‘ awaiting
to take their turn at night.
The warm breath of a Spring breeze,
tickles the fur of the Bumble Bee.
Now! with splendour and vigour,
a profusion of growth with every tree.
In readiness to give birth to ‘buds’, cut
like Beautiful Emeralds.
To sit and listen, whilst each Wild Bird
heartfully sings each song twice.
Behold danger as a Goss Hawk ,
lives here too!!
The adventureous Egeret walks upon air.
Mirrored by still pools, as he stands to stare.
A duck streches her wings to reveal her brood;
A single tear of joy she sheds.
Across the flow, grassing herd of Cows
to lick the morning honey dew.
As the rain drops fall from Swallows wings.
To ‘Kiss a blaze of Meadow Flowers’.
A Dragon fly, pauses to rub a leg over its head.
A Spider plays ‘ hide and seek’ within the hedge,
to the ‘barks’ from the Jack Russell.
I am in Heaven. All that I survey,
“Enriches our Souls “
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