Best Along Poems
Dawn slowly awakened to supplant the moon
Empty, the canopy where stars had been strewn
In repose, Luna slept after wandering velvet skies
and spider webs shimmered in the flight of sunrise
Dew drops evaporated upon the fragrant tuberose
as a playful breeze billowed my sheer nightclothes
Seagulls swooped and scurried along amber shores
A salty crew grappled with the sea on labored oars
Muscles pulled in rhythmic chorus, as if in lyrical rote
as surging waves rocked the hull of their fishing boat
They surpassed each crest and triumphed over swells
The sun's prisms painted the horizon in muted pastels
Inspired by the milieu of ruffled swirls across the sea
sunlight dappled over its surface in sequenced litany
I sipped a second cup as thoughts were being seeded
Poetry spawned inside of me; a birthing to be heeded
For as driftwood hastens down rapids to a new frontier
I needed to ledger my verses, ere they hie to disappear
August 13, 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 12 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Walk through this world with me
feed and awaken my soul
share all my dreams with me
along with your silence I stroll.
Reach down deep into a loving heart
walk through my morbid fears
allow not a wealth to fall apart
pick my Self up, deafen the sound of my tears.
Walk through this world with me
I need to feel your kindling power
share all my dreams with me
I'll live through what is sweet and sour.
A journey of many a loss, a Light to reach
blowing the dust off, a gem would glitter and win
If only the book of Nature would me teach
the flame of harmony would ever glow and never dim.
Walk through this world with me
paint mysterious stories of no ending
share all my dreams with me
on dark paths, we blend colours and keep ascending.
In Life, we reach souls and bloom
the road is long and the pleasure is strong
we learn to build in the heart many a room
and yearn for the realm to where we belong.
The lines used :
(Walk through this world with me
Share all my dreams with me)
George Jones song : 'Walk Through This World With Me'
https://youtu.be/ieDXpVpjieE
He was skipping along, swinging his arms and laughing
At what I don't know.
His grandmother, lagging a few steps behind, was laughing at him I suppose.
And I thought to myself, she loves him, she does,
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
He stopped when he got to the corner and waited for me to turn right.
A smile crossed his lips,
As he waved at me - at me and my shabby old car.
And when I had passed him, he started to prance quite merrily on his way.
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
The confidence of youth flowed joyfully through him,
Just looking at him made me smile.
And you know what I did? I pulled to the curb and parked my silly old car.
I watched for a while as he started to run and then charge on out of sight.
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
How old he was then, I'm really not sure, Maybe five, maybe six,
Not yet Seven.
But ageless his quest to embrace this life whatever might come his way.
A sadness crept into my heart just then for I knew life would never be fair to
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
It will be harder for him to be special. The color of his skin will not help.
I wish I could be there
To tell him be careful, stay safe in this white man's domain.
But maybe the people he'll meet in his life will let him be just who he is
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
The cemetery was fresh and vivid green
when we took our bikes down the paths of it -
past stones and trees and mausoleums and grass as far as we could see,
carefree on that muggy summer afternoon,
perspiration glistening on our arms and on our faces
as we sought to stay on the shady side of each well-traveled lane.
Instinctively we followed Dale, our older red-haired fun-loving brother,
turning here and there; it didn’t matter. We had no destination,
no gravesites of friends or relatives to visit.
Sometimes we would spot an interesting tombstone,
jump off our bikes and take a closer look at it.
We were just kids, out of school for summer with no real obligations.
Our lives were a clean slate, not like the worn and broken headstones
we spotted sometimes on the cemetery’s edge, the older area’s grave stones
whose names were hard to read and dates went as far back as the 1800’s.
Those were emblems of an ancient past for us.
It was 1965! We were the modern generation and the future loomed
as large for us
as those many squared city blocks the cemetery measured.
Flash forward two decades to 1984. I was married with two small kids
and back in my hometown; things around me seeming so much smaller,
and the future loomed not quite so large ahead of me this time.
Most of my sisters were married but leading separate lives in different states.
We all had pressing obligations, so our reunion could not be a long one.
No longer were my sisters and I carefree, and we were not riding bikes.
We rode in cars that followed one another in a line;
the cemetery was cold and dismal grey that December day
as we gathered around the unearthed sod,
staring, unbelieving, into the giant hole that was to be the final resting place
for the brother whom we’d once followed so gleefully
along the shady paths of vivid green
Don't bruise the flaxen reed
Don't wind the strings too tight
on instruments of hearts and wishes
burning, burning bright...
Call the night, the night.
Call the day, the day ~
as we continue the fight of our lives
we love along the way...
Along the shores of distant dreams
beyond horizon’s stare,
of stardust eyes and ventured seas
in timeless journeys fair
I call out in a desperate tone
afloat this ocean view,
on waves eternal cast alone
in thoughts of only you
For if these waters claim their prize
in white capped angered form,
to fall in fear, dark clouded skies
in passion's mighty storm
And when the deep shall take my breath
below its surfaced chill,
I’ll hold your love with me in death
and I forever will
R a i n ~ a misted mirror
coated in petrichor pain ~
fused with memories
pirouetting through the
veiled salt of the earth,
caressing the Pina Colada dreams
adrift in the icy-blue air,
amidst clouds soaked
in prismatic hues ~
arching like opalescent canopies,
to hide the despair I’ve draped
in dragonfly hues that no one knows
but the moon and his
merciful silver, forever stroking
the silken surface of s i l e n c e ~
homed within my
heart that aches…
And along with the thunder ~
came confetti of scars,
a piercing flash of metallic truth
revealing midnight rays
of how I’ve long been the storm ~
a murky sky of cracked constellations,
a rush of roaring torrents,
driving my thoughts to the honed
borderline of tremors and torture ~
teetering on forsaken fragility.
O dahlia dawn ~
I am the splitting tempest,
the spectral outline of
electrified lightning.
I taste the bittersweet flavors
of opaline stars ~
trembling in angst,
as fleeting sparks of the buried past,
too, feel the hurt beneath
the pansies of paradise,
where angels unfurl their
wings, sprinkling tears of hope
upon the battlefield of
shattered dreams,
lamenting the endless war
that burns in the olive-green
orchard of the grief-struck mind,
where fairy-lights
flicker neon hints of
prejudice through broken twigs ~
a pitiful perception,
amplifying the echoing embers
floating above puddles
of weathered lilies,
stained with dust and powder,
weaving a requiem for the
f a l l e n jewels,
walking through the trails
of bruises and tilted tulips,
bleeding poetry ~
beautified with
polychromatic phrases
and falcon ink that cuts
through paper promises,
leaving nothing but a restless reverie,
breathing in the quivering
warmth of quietude…
I feel very privileged to have been able to contribute something small to a second collaboration with poet extraordinaire, Robert Lindley, whose mastery of all forms of verse continues to inspire. Thank you, Robert, for such fellowship and inspiration.
The Unseen, As Swirling Ebbs Of Time Plod Along
A collaboration with Robert Lindley
19th October 2018
Fight disbelief, as its intended power is to deceive
its low, hard constant drone, echoes shattered moans
with razor knife edge, bloodied cuts hide in its deep,
at dusk's waning hours, path falls to the cold and dead
And what speaks in dreams, oft walks in shadows at day
spreading aching sadness, horrific chills sent to curse.
Yet disbelief will not be fought
for waging of battle demands that you believe
existence says, believe you do not
for from whence, otherwise,
did disbelief's bleeding red-blades appear
if not from blindness, saddest of such sad truths ?
Is this black magic in its unfathomable infinite embrace
cut short by false Gods that once held its great powers
nay, the same, blood for blood that mercilessly seethes
from its savagery, demands we live weak, wasted lives
In soul destroying expanse, sorrows birth deeper woes
man a pawn, dwelling within Time's never ending shows.
Yet the ancient false Gods be not false
for only true Gods could control and mask
their own hidden goals and divinity's truth,
and their every mysterious whim,
as the oscillations of a cruel lover,
echo divinities that we'll not ever divine.
If one sees, finds a way to break the mold
they are targeted, struck down long before the old
as were celebrated artists felled in fleeting youth,
rotted in earthen soil, living now in dreams of more
Behold, evil, slow-walks hand in hand with father Time
recurring patterns, anger born, in man's fallen mind.
“Why can't we all just get along”
Rodney King once uttered these words
As current today as it was back then
Our “head in the sand” thinking, it disturbs
We're all just members of the human race
Why divide us up, us and them
Brothers that will meet our maker one day
What's so very important until then
In the overall scheme of earthly things
Only love should rise above all
Colour, language and religion all secondary
Co-existence must be installed
Maybe I'm just whistling in the wind
But if my small voice does make a difference
Then hear me loud and clear as I shout
To reject it is a display of ignorance
A bizarre light show streaked across the sky.
The blinding lightning seemed to explode and electrify.
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Vivid flashes of color to the clouds and everything under.
Striking blasts of illumination floodlit the night.
In total awe we eagerly witnessed this amazing sight.
Breaking the silence, more crashes of thunder came booming down.
Deafening the unsuspecting residence of our Sydney town.
A mind boggling spectacle was being played out.
Unable to hear ourselves think, we couldn't even shout.
A memorable night, never happened before, maybe never again.
Now along with the thunder, comes torrents of rain.
The Unseen, As Swirling Ebbs Of Time Plod Along
Fight disbelief, as its intended power is to deceive
its low, hard constant drone, echoes shattered moans
with razor knife edge, bloodied cuts hide in its deep,
at dusk's waning hours, path falls to the cold and dead
And what speaks in dreams, oft walks in shadows at day
spreading aching sadness, horrific chills sent to curse.
Yet disbelief will not be fought
for waging of battle demands that you believe
existence says, believe you do not
for from whence, otherwise,
did disbelief's bleeding red-blades appear
if not from blindness, saddest of such sad truths ?
Is this black magic in its unfathomable infinite embrace
cut short by false Gods that once held its great powers
nay, the same, blood for blood that mercilessly seethes
from its savagery, demands we live weak, wasted lives
In soul destroying expanse, sorrows birth deeper woes
man a pawn, dwelling within Time's never ending shows.
Yet the ancient false Gods be not false
for only true Gods could control and mask
their own hidden goals and divinity's truth,
and their every mysterious whim,
as the oscillations of a cruel lover,
echo divinities that we'll not ever divine.
If one sees, finds a way to break the mold
they are targeted, struck down long before the old
as were celebrated artists felled in fleeting youth,
rotted in earthen soil, living now in dreams of more
Behold, evil, slow-walks hand in hand with father Time
recurring patterns, anger born, in man's fallen mind.
Robert Lindley Lawrence Sharp - collaboration
10-18-2018
Note: Yet again I have had the great honor of writing free verse, with my dear friend Lawrence Sharp and being inspired by his beautiful poetry. Such fellowship is indeed a boon and a wonderful experience as I continue to travel on my poetry journey.
As We Stroll Along Lanes Of Truth, Lies Or Convenient Illusions
But if truth and light grace your soul
And a wisdom shields heart and mind,
You may in life hope for the best
As we stroll along lanes of truth, lies or convenient illusions
And either we come to know or not know
That to this dark world- we are less than nothing.
O truth! Does life and love gift all we need
As that gaze from stars crying while looking down
We then, that are not born of eternal seeds
Wade through this ever changing realm
Mired in the darkness which patiently lies, waiting within!
In love we think we are flowers blooming forever
In gardens devoid of decay
Yet invisible beyond that veil
Are powers that seethe in anger
Things that seek to destroy, and eat us alive.
Such foreboding exists, as does ground beneath bare and roaming feet
Although in blindness we see only with limited sight we have
Prone to seek peace, love and beauty,
We conjure up fantasies and dreams
Illusions that quell our deep and internal fears!
Ah, gone are days of the magical gods
They which could be insured to take the blame
Those that set us into perils, into savage wars
In our ignorance we saw- the gods played and wreaked havoc
As we, heaped upon this world mysterious gifts of darkness
And paraded forth as if living was a mere game
A thing which we mastered, a monster we truly controlled.
And in that deception we saw imagined gods that we had conquered
And we imagined the Gods that we had become-through our magnificent being!
Robert J. Lindley, May 20th 1989
Verse
Note: Deleted
Life is but a winding road
Filled with faces along the way
Coming in and out of your life
Coloring your every day
Yet most spend just a moment
A fleeting glimpse before your eyes
They giveth not and taketh not
And cause you barely a rise
And some stay just a moment
Earning a thought upon your mind
Triggers for countless memories
These are the most common kind
And fewer still stay even longer
And commune with you a while
Leaving behind dearest memoirs
Of sweet tears or a special smile
And rarer still those faces grand
Building mansions in your soul
These are the faces of a lifetime
Whose virtue you do extol
And know that you simply are
A feature filled soiree
A portrait in collage
Of the faces along the way
When I need an uplift for my weary soul and to clear my muddled mind.
I slowly cruise along a country road to see what treasures I might find.
I leave behind the frenzied traffic on the four-lane interstate,
To enjoy bucolic vistas along a gravel road, my languid soul to sate.
I see old barns with Mail Pouch Tobacco ads now faint due to age,
And remnants of Burma Shave signs with their charmin' adage.
Stately homes with white picket fences grace the country road,
With roses of every hue surroundin' emerald lawns all neatly mowed.
I cross a rickety wooden bridge 'neath which country boys are fishin',
And for long ago summer days of feckless youth, it gits me to wishin;!
A lady waves to me as she hangs her laundry on the clothesline to dry.
A sign on the old country store reads, 'Wave If You Can't Stop By!'
Farmers on John Deere tractors wave as they tend their fields of grain.
They sure kick up lots of dust and I reckon they're prayin' for some rain.
I rolled down the windows to savor the wonderful scent of new-mown hay,
And slow to let an Amish family in their buggy move along the way.
Fat cattle graze on lush meadows, each with a meanderin' stream.
Horses gaze at me over fences as they look askance and dream.
I loathe interstates where folks think they're in the Indy 500-mile race.
I prefer old country roads where life is enjoyed at a much slower pace!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
I STEP down from the boardwalk and into a land moved by the forces of the universe.
I feel the earth move under my feet as I walk on mountains crushed to grains of sand by these forces and the passing of time since the birth of planet Earth.
Ringing in my ears, beating in my heart, running through my veins - the thunder of an ancient drum as the ocean rises and falls to the will of the wind.
I mark my passing with footprints in the sand while my mind empties itself of everything but this moment.
I walk toward a purple line in the distance, yearning to know what is there...yearning to touch it.
I lean against a warm wind that blows away the ribbons from my hair and all the troubles of a world gone mad.
~~~
Moment-by-moment... time becomes a thing of the past as I reach for that purple line.
On and on and on - I walk to the beat of that ancient drum - through the wind and ocean brine - through the setting of the sun - ON AND ON AND ON. Still, its seems I'm no closer to that line.
~~~
As the moon begins to rise, I turn back.
~~~
My morning footprints have all disappeared. The forces of the universe have erased every trace, I was ever here.
I STOP... and look up at the moon and all the uncountable stars that hang there ... motionless among the endless galaxies, over an ocean now at rest.
AND IN THIS MOMENT... I AM ONE WITH ALL THERE IS...AS I STARE INTO
THE FACE OF GOD.
~~~
Written: February 17th, 2016
Elaine Cecelia George of Canada