Best Any Longer Poems
I had a dream...
I am sleeping on a cloud. Upon awakening, I gaze at planet earth below. From my vantage point I can see the globe in its entirety. Something has changed. Before falling asleep I was watching the news. It spoke of war, inflation, hatred and prejudice. There was talk of deforestation, desertification, plastic pollution and radiation poisoning. People were fighting, they were killing. Spilled blood was everywhere, staining the beauteous land.
But the world I am seeing now is at peace. The lion sleeps with the lamb. People from all cultures, nations and languages are living in harmony, a true rainbow of mankind. The air is sweet, the waters pure and clear as crystal. Instinctively, I get down on my knees and pray to the God of heaven, as tears of confusion and joy stream down my face. A soft, low voice from above calls to me: "My son, no need for tears any longer. Look! I have made all things new." It is only then I understand, this is no dream after all. I am in paradise!
promise of ages
a world in transformation
all living the dream
BECAUSE OF JUST ONE POETESS
I let go of living in sadness.
My life seemed going nowhere,
and looking back now, it all
seemed like madness!
It wasn't because she did
gymnastics with boorish
poetic forms.
Nor was she cute or wordy.
using only the shortest
forms.
I was in search for something
far deeper that healed me with
human warmth and a soul balm.
Best of all, through her, I was
to learn to waltz happily with
shadows of my past!
And to know that love seems
to end, but I found contrarily it,
in another form, always lasts.
BECAUSE OF JUST ONE POETESS
I kept coming back to read her
at the Soup.
And, finally,after a number of
months,
I concluded to sign up and
express myself with my freshman,
weak pen.
I used to write the saddest poetry,
before I came here.
I try now to stay away from poets
who hate my country, or get joy out
of living in lost love or sadness.
And to avoid all who laugh at and
demean myself!
Belittling others in a poem, creates
and furthers world madness.
BECAUSE OF JUST ONE POETESS
Indeed my days have transformed
from gloom to splendiferous gladness.
No hopelessness nor grief can
fingerprint my life any longer.
And in the days to come, may
my words become far stronger.
BECAUSE OF JUST ONE POETESS!
**Her name is known best to the
the humblest of the twinkling
stars and God's ears**
With affection and thanks~
Out in the middle of a large farmland, I become a girl of old charm and unexpected songs again. Past the flanks where cluttered rows of hyacinths and ferns quiver, disarranged huts begin to shake as the rough wind wheezes. And on this late July, mounds of dust remind me of summers back in my grandfather’s hometown. Yet, a different vanishing overtakes me.
a season passes…
carrying all its flowers
to emerge as buds
Watching for thrushes that grow moist from dusky froth , my heels trek along deepened clay. As I lay on haystacks listening to stars chiming, the inky moon sinks its riddled face through a veil. Somehow, I feel alone...abandoned like the opera of a heart which seems to fall into a tragic ending. Yes, Grandpa isn’t around any longer, as a eulogy of tears swells.
on this barren field…
a solitary twig cracks
from one glittered tree
The nightfall drools looking for the yellow among clouds. For a while, the hazy outlines of strangers--native women and children ---disturb my old revelries when Grandpa would linger by the porch dipping tunes from his violin. Through calm intervals of laughter, we sway together; fire to air, salt to honey. Much as I need to inhabit this space, it no longer belongs to me, or to him. But twilight comes brimming with all the glistened jewels of our own world.
between two lifetimes
is a haunting melody…
like a song unsung
11/19/2015
Creative Haibuns Contest
For Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
I do have purpose
that stays near
a constant reminder
of my inner child
As my conscienceness
shines through to create
a new perspective
I break out of my cocoon
Only to discover that
I find places where
the sanctity of my being
does not flow as it should
My intuition is what
guides me though
there is no longer the
desire for the constant
upheaval of tragedy to strike
upon me
On my journey I have
discovered that there
are many hidden truths
So as my spirit ascends
I am inspired by my bravery...
If I am frightened
by the visibility that
standing proud does to me
then I shall stand even taller
No longer will I fear
the degradation that
once was my shadow
there is no home here
for the shame any longer
And I will no longer be
swayed by the fragments of defeat
When I become sorely tempted by
sheer exhaustion
And I think I can't
make it on my own
I will remember that
I am walking this
road of life for me...
An inner earthquake rattles him again
as the fiery sun dips in the horizon
Can he too, hide his halo as such?
Closing his eyes as he folds in his wings,
wishing he could take it off
He trembles...must he embrace darkness to know of love?
Sun breaks over the mountain range,
her obsidian skin absorbing the light.
If her body is like a canvas of night,
could she reach within herself,
beyond the horns and hooves
and find her own hidden sunrise, deep inside?
The darkness is more reassuring
than he could have ever imagined-
something to truly weigh his goodness against,
in a finely-tuned balancing act.
And as the stars can help guide a lost soul,
he too possesses a true north within.
Oddly enough, she welcomes the radiance,
such a stark contrast to what she has been used to-
rays drip into her like ink diffuses in water,
a momentary burst of chaotic brilliance,
followed by an even stillness.
She cannot escape it, becoming a part of her.
The rooster crows for the third time,
so he opens his eyes to this daybreak,
emerald mountains shimmering in the morning light.
Through abysmal depths, he arises and now realizes
Darkness comes as the light falls, it is inevitable...
yet Light also takes over that darkness.
With the thickening dusk,
clouds turn into amethyst ribbons.
The day's warmth thawed a part of her
that was kept frozen and dead for eons.
Now, she would do everything in her power
to keep it pulsing--to keep it alive.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Upon watching them, sheer fascination takes over....
Even though these two are on different paths,
they had both achieved a similar transformation,
as if neither was an agent for one side, or the other.
Not any longer.
And how their auras shone
....in perfect equilibrium.
**082011**
Opposites: angel/daemon; sunrise/sunset :)
When She Was Young
When she was young she would sleep
holding her dreams in her hand next
to her heart to protect them from being
forgotten now that she is older she sleeps
dreading to dream as her hands cannot hold
them any longer.
When she was young her dreams had a meaning
they lightened up her mornings opening her
balcony to breath the fresh air to look towards
the mountains and feel the sensation of climbing
to the peak watch the other side & peep to the
beauty she could reach out to,being younger &
having the courage that tomorrow she can do it.
When she was young she was glad of life
because it gave her the chance to fall in love
to work to play to look at the stars.
Now that she is older she opens her balcony
and sees a black fog hiding her view the mountains
don't exist her hopes are mixed up there is a deep
valley, the trees are withered the path is blocked
the birds are screaming their nests are gone
the grass is suffering because of the wind changed
its direction running away taking everything
that might still be alive.
If only she knew how getting older would feel
when she was younger she would have intentionally
grabbed each day by force and lived each moment
instead of having to have lived only to give her
whole existence to everybody, she would have had
time to keep the mountains view look alive she
would have kept seeing a clear path with no end
she would have told the trees not to die she would
have told the blowing wind to keep her birds nests alive
she would have asked her dream not to let her grow olde
her dream answered her.
My friend if I could do that trust me I would have
fulfilled your dream.
Yet, she loved when she was younger,
she loves getting older, and she loves
living today each Moment, Now.
Therese Bacha
5/2/13
Time for me to say
My last goodbye.
If this mind and outlook of mine
Won't change once I leave.
Then I may attempt
What I've been thinking of
From within those past years.
I've isolated myself long enough;
So no one will any longer be as close to me.
I've already written and spoken
My truest of feelings.
Some day it may be time for me to say
My last goodbye to whatever happiness
That has been left behind
Deep within my mind.
I don't wear a cape around
My neck, breaking the speed of sound
Or capture bad guys in a web
My powers have never fled
From my heart that's where they stay
Secretly until the day
I see injustice come along
Others are treated so wrong
My super powers become stronger
When I can't take it any longer
Hearing stories of bullying
My special skills kick right in
Set loose, no holding them back
My love alert goes on attack
Not stopping for anything
It won't ease up until I bring
All this hatred to a low
I give one huge final blow
Across the land until there is
No more hate or prejudice
Until then, I'm on alert
Making sure there is no hurt
I will be here till the end
All my powers I will send
Into the hearts of those so weak
Mild mannered, shy and meek
That get pushed around each day
I'll make sure it goes away
This promise will be kept for sure
Any kind of hatred I abhor
A most beautiful suicide- from the hands of her beautiful possession
that struck the nerve that broke her dreams
and drained her blood down the pipe.
She called everyone-they all smiled
She cut too deep and they sent her away
to a grey place that made her think hopelessly
waiting for an answer.
A therapist did not help,
even though they lied and said they do-
So the doctor gave her pills
white ones, pink ones, blue ones and red ones too,
but all made her feel the same.
She was black and dying
she wasn't waiting on death any longer,
she filled the bath
naked in her bare flesh
and slit her wrists
her heart slowly stilled
and her blood went down the drain.
Today I am about to embark on a journey
that I have waited for, for so long,
they say that this one is the safest ship
were nothing could ever go wrong.
As I stare down at the crowd, I think,
here I am, traveling on the R.M.S. Titanic,
this is the most exciting day of my life
and yet I feel a sense of anxiety and panic.
I calm myself by breathing in April's fresh air
and the sea's waves begin to roll and rock,
I close my eyes and feel the warm sunshine
as the ship finally departs from the dock.
Even though I'm not a first class passenger
I admire the grandeur of the White Star Line,
my few luxuries and the kindness shown to me
are enough to warm this heart of mine.
For Carolyn Devonshire's Past Lives Contest
I'm very interested in learning about the Titanic, but sometimes when I look at a
picture of the ship, I get this tremendous feeling of dread and fear. So much so,
that I cannot look at the photo any longer. I don't know where my fear of this
ship comes from. I have never been on a cruise or had any kind of traumatic
experience on a ship. Sometimes, I think that I may have been on the Titanic
in my past life. I don't know if I would have survived or not.
My love, let me leave you for a while
It will not take any longer
Remember that I'm just here
I'm not saying goodbye.
I'll find my way back to you
When the right time has come
I fill your cup of coffee
I'll put back your precious smile.
Dry your tears, make up your life
Soon we'll hold each other hands
We'll share our love that so divine
In a place where no one could divide us.
But for now, I'll be gone in the night
Don't feel that you're alone
'cause I'm watching from afar
Remember that I will never say goodbye.
I am not dreaming, certainly. .
Not even dreams of the purest happiness
Contain that of which makes up this precious being. . .
How softly she smiles at me….
Like the beautiful gypsy, La Esmeralda,
To the hideous hunchback Quasimodo,
Looking not on my face and frame with any ounce of fear nor fright—
But with wholesome love and compassion. .
She extinguishes all past hurt
With the gentle, fervent touch of those soft, small hands,
The determined gleam in her eyes of certainty, mercy and trust…..
A guardian in this icy world of hate and suspicion,
Whom melts this frozen heart with her words of skill and will!
I should almost wish to steal her away—
Yet any power or control that I have once possessed is lost in her good deeds
I cannot be tempted to hurt or wrong her any longer,
For she and she alone acknowledges my life with the stainless soul
Of justice and kindness!
She has restored my hope like the rays of the sun
Beating upon a warming ground once cold and rigid through many nights
She melts me like the ice of the mountain’s peak,
Which now pours such warm, gratifying tears,
Down the dangerous trails, to the humbling base…..
Sweet angel of relief…..
I will cling to you as I have nothing…..
I rely on you, for you are everything…….
Of course on this night we are supposed to be asleep so Santa
could come, but we hadn't been home from Midnight Mass very long, and the
invigorating cold was not conducive to sleep. Even the hot chocolate did not do
much to help sedate the excitement.
We were hoping for sleds that year. The snow was perfect for
sledding especially like we did it. We tied out sleds on behind the car or pick up
and were pulled through the hills. We got our sleds. My dad and my uncle made
them for us.
No television and only in the late years were we allowed to use the
radio. Batteries were to expensive for frivolous use. We spent many hours
playing cards or games.
I took time out and went to high school and college and got my
teaching certificate.
My aunt taught there only one year after the Federal Government
turned the schools over to the local government.
The last time I was back there the out buildings had been moved and
Indian families were living in them. The school was dirty and unkept.
Now the school is gone. The ancestors who once walked these
dusty plains are gone. The Indians who were there when I was a child are gone.
They are Ghosts. Ghosts whose faces can be seen in the clouds.
Ghosts who still chop wood on those sub zero nights. And the drums we heard
in the middle of the nights are still beating. They beat as strongly as the heart
beats in a healthy body. The laughter of the children still echoes under the
bridge.
The life blood of a culture, of a nation grows thin. The Battle of
Wounded Knee was the last battle to be fought between the white man and the
Indian on the northern plains. It's cries still echo across the land.
My foot prints in the creek did not last any longer than those they left
in the dust. But in my memories, this mile and a half by three quarter mile haven
still lives. And will live forever as a piece of unrecorded history.
From the wild western plains, I call unto thee my sister of the poetic heart,
Where have thee gone, swallowed whole by a desert storm, or lost amongst
The tumble weed of discontent.
Let the blazing heart of Texas yield thy freedom’s liberation, come home to
The pages of this sacred internet outpost, we miss your shining star, called
Friendship that you gave unto us, Linda, the poet destroyer.
From the depth of the very waters of the Ohio Basin I do call,
Let my voice be heard unto one and all, against the breath of the
Winds of dust, hear me my sister poet, let the soundings crash ripple
Like a wave upon the ocean of sand, echoing across the aroid landscape
Of Houston, we miss you come home!!
Oh upon hell’s storm the night winds do shudder and shake, with
Leaving inspirations heart to ache, what festering wounds have thy
Left behind thee, without our muse we are just the blind wondering
In the darkness of our own thoughts, unable to write with strengths endurance,
Any longer.
Behold a phantom shade am I, a thin wisp of breeze melting beneath the
Desert sun, seeking a mirages illusion known as my sister poet, Called
Linda, the poet destroyer.
A vintage portrait of my former self, without your words of wondrous
Expression my colors run together, and bleed asunder from my canvas once
So miraculous.
But here in my winter of ice cold, in this chamber of the frozen soul,
I call unto you, with one last icy blast of breath come home, unto us,
Don’t let us freeze in this dungeon warm us instead with your words
Of kinship, and friendship.
Let my words echo unto Houston, Texas, let our Linda answer our hailing,
So inspirations sisterhood can breathe once more a sigh of relief at last.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Unburden my life of desolation
the weight on my shoulders too heavy.
Can somebody please lighten my load
I am clearly needy and ready.
All my life never asked a soul
To really help me out
I got by inch by inch
by being gracious with no shout
There is a point when somebody breaks
no human is made of steel.
I've held in all my pain
More years than i can heal
when will there be a chapter
in this play i've been
That doesn't involve massive damage
Where i can just sit and grin.
I cant wait any longer
My life that was taken away
need to begin.
kristen bruni