Best Aorta Poems
My aorta beats in golden poppies,
pulsing down slopes to pool
in a bruise of purple sage.
Though my eyes gleam
with lemon marigolds
snow caps of porcelain lupine
melt on my lashes,
undulating in a quiet tempest
of periwinkle asters.
Beneath a bluebell sky
the sun colors my cheeks
with the blush of primroses
as monarchs lilt
like birds of paradise
among velvet morning glories
and a shy alyssum breeze
caresses my emerald cloak.
3/26/19
Marathon Qualifiers Contest
Mark Toney
Categories:
aorta, flower, metaphor, spring,
Form:
Personification
Fated to Love
Best to simply weigh the heart with a poppy seed
Counter balance on granite
All its rhythmical surging
Its expeditious life
Amounts to nothing
Better then, not to believe in its enchantment
For it is fated to love
And do little else but lead
To ruin
Well-worn to stop up your ears
Lest you hear its background murmurings
Brooding upon devotion
Lacking the power to change anything
But weeps constantly for dreams
Do not then, be deceived
For all the hearts will to achieve
It cannot
But burst inside your veins
Only half remembering what once you never held
Though its truth persists
It lays persecutory back against a lie
The heart would try
But cannot defy the world
Beware then my friends
For that muscular aorta pump and valve
Will lay you stark
And rend open beneath your ribs
And grant you no solace
Or escape
For all in the life of steady beats
It knows nothing of fact
And through your nights survival
Will stab at you with yearning
Brooking no compromise
It shall continue
Craving
Damnable heart I say
To leave me no place to rest
If I could but tear it out
For it taints my eyes with longing
Converting my hours for its keeping
Playing poker faced with deliverance
Trying to cheat destiny
With the price it paid to see me
Counting the cost in when’s
And when
When all the loneliness
Will end
Beware of when; then my friends
For that muscular ventricle pump and valve
Will lay you star-dream-gathering
And break open daily beneath your ribs
And yield to you no solace
But only escapism
Damnable heart I say
To leave me no place to rest
If I could but tear it out
Categories:
aorta, loveheart, heart, me, ,
Form:
Free verse
Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver
Contest Name 'New Beginnings
20 thousand and more years, then,
We came away from Mars,
Gravity ships with field deflection,
Electromagnetic with the stars.
Come we then amongst the humans,
Tiny short and feeble be,
We were 8 feet tall, us true men,
They might make just 5 foot 3.
Sent to bring them from the darkness,
Bring the light to all who’d see,
To use the mental might a blessing,
See it happen, to make it be.
Rad Arrigo met a maiden,
fine of feature yes was she,
Amber Aqua little maiden,
soon had children, one two three.
Challenged by a Chieftain was the Arrigo,
Changed his mind and let em be,
Mentally taught him love not hate now,
Arrigo willed it, saw it, see…
Perfect were these little women,
Innocent and so coy you see,
Improve the race, life so grim then,
Giants in the land it was to be….
So the crops were started irrigated,
With food came huts and prosperity,
Temples built big blocks migrated,
Mentally cut, sized and shaped by we.
Mind the creator does it all,
Fixed broken bones, so visually,
See it happen walk ye tall,
Mind can fix it, you will see.
Healers learn to use the picture,
See her face just mentally,
See her aorta a bulging,
See it shrink and shrink, heal thee …
Be thou patient with thy learning,
It takes time to get for ye,
Be consistent with your yearning,
Keep the faith and it will be.
Don Johnson
Anti gravity was provided by two electromagnetic fields on board which negated
Gravity of the Earth to free it from the planet using the stepping stones of space and the
attracting gravity magnified of the planets…
Categories:
aorta, fantasy
Form:
Ballad
Eh, Bebe ...
clueless you with the wide eyes open,
which can’t see
So apoplectic of heart,
paralyzed by the cobra sway
of changeling channel charmer words
Gen Z baby gloomer
remote diaphragm controlled,
go back to analog sleep
Oh oh ... video comatose —
Nightmares begat by daydreams
of reel digital silver screams
Lost Vegas patch-eye vision
of one arm pulled down
And the coins keep trickling
into your open palms
Baby Bebe gon umbilical vault cray cray
Cut the cord of the eyelid dark violet curtains ...
bling-bling blind birth
shut the womb of twin retinal glow dearth
So aorta slow,
slug cranial coma critical ...
lobotomy comatose
Virtual voices say:
eh, Bebe —
Pull the plug ... let the dying vapors go,
expired from a necrotic nasal
Categories:
aorta, allusion, imagery, perspective, words,
Form:
Free verse
It’s been too long since I sang the song
Of the runner down the road;
Losing cares to wind in the hair
And a river that always flows. Winding
And wistfully, like a lover
In the dark; aorta racing, footsteps
Pacing ‘round the park.
Stirring up old memories
Of fitful, youthful years;
Despite the pounds and pounding now
I’m grateful to be here. Able still
To find a rhythm, a cadence in my bones;
Though older now I feel somehow
Much younger running
Down the road…Tomorrow’s
Not quite here yet and today’s
Not disappeared;
But the sunset I see running free
Is enough to help me steer. Home
In the right direction where
I lie down and rest;
It’s been too long since I sang the song
Of the heart beat in my chest.
Categories:
aorta, sports, song, song,
Form:
Rhyme
I'm tired of writing love poems and trying to put spins on them;
So for inspiration and ideas i go brainstorming;
But each thought, each idea seems to be a duplicate of the last poem;
"The glimmer of her memory never seems to diminish" if i should quote one;
The most amazing part about all these poems is not that I wrote them;
its that they're all about you;
so a thought about you is always around the corner from my mind;
But loving you was always harder than putting thread through a needle if i was blind;
And i could never figure you out even if i was smarter than Einstein;
See pain and love reside in the same exact address of my heart either one would answer the door when you runged;
Like when you didn't say nothing when your brother called me out my name and we got the scrapping cause i ain't no punk;
Or when you finally said i love you who would've thunk;
In my hearts mind i know i have to free you from the prison that is deep inside my aorta, pass the pulmonary valve;
there you'll find all of our memories that were once upon a time;
before i unlock the doors with the keys of forgiveness and free the memories we once shared like wind to leaves;
I just want you to know a couple things to put my mind at ease;
You were my definition of love when problems arose we chose to be more discrete;
Who knew my heart would tremble, broken like a Haitian street;
They told me to be patient and that time heels all wounds;
But you leaving left a big whole in my heart the size of a balloon;
Ive been walking around these streets hoping nobody pops it so i wont end up a guy in a loveless casket
Categories:
aorta, anger, betrayal, break up,
Form:
My drapes are drawn tight,
in the morning of our afternoon,
after the fall – beyond the light
of a silent evening spent.
Dusk spits a new shine
upon the facets of my mood ring
and sunrise alarms me again.
Fish hooks evenly lure my smile
into place - when bated breaths
are baited by an anticipated gentry -
and the inverted frown I wear
stretches undetected
when performing
index-fingered handstands
for the empty allured.
Such a celebration am I.
A firecracker when we kiss.
"The sun sets in his eyes...
succulent, cabbage-red and resplendent…”
Clichéd stammering; dulled
as you turn your softly curved frame
into a prisoner's unresolved sensitivities.
Nonetheless...the innocent know -
His touch is real. Feathered, soft -
even when the entranced cripple is sobbing.
Roman candles sparkle
within a distant vagabond’s eyes.
Starch him!
Savor the moment!
He'll voluntarily burst forth -
and everything you'd want from
a strayed waif's aorta will be
auctioned back...
and eventually sold.
Like ruby-hued vegetables.
Like drawn drapes.
Like morning…
when biting your pillow case
neatly grinds waking into the laughable...
…and a forgotten sunrise
toasts the unremembered misfit
as an invisible champagne cork - pops!
Categories:
aorta, introspection, life, love,
Form:
Free verse
An arrow pierced my beating heart
While deep in rapt repose;
Waking me from my memories
Of Milvian Bridge I suppose.
It struck straight in my aorta
Bludgeoning me to death;
Until I woke up sweetly praying
Underneath my dying breath.
I could hear the shouts of anguish
Desolation, mortal pain;
Brought upon us one and all
From our great king, Constantine.
Who came to fight Maxentious,
Roman Emperor of renown;
The lines were drawn and dies were cast:
Brave men were going down.
We forty thousand troops from Gaul
Headed straight away towards Rome;
And when we reached the River Tiber
A flaming cross was shown.
High up in the royal rafters where
The Savior rose from His grave,
Our king declared allegiance there
And Christianity was made.
While we fought like men and brothers
Bleeding buckets to the bones;
And when the fight was finally over
My thoughts returned to home.
All in my sweet slumber
While waking from this dream;
An arrow pierced my beating heart
Once again, or so it seems.
Categories:
aorta, history, me, men,
Form:
Rhyme
There’s a clock on my wall
in the den – striking ten
as I slink down the hall -
simply remembering when
our passion was valid
and truthful
and honored
and sacred.
Now the clock strikes again
chiming four – on the floor,
a famous cherubim
writhes from the lash of my claw.
His flush face turns pallid.
He’s cringing there
duct-taped
and naked.
See my blood loom like lye
in a glass on your table.
So swig me and swill me -
there’s no warning label
to inform you of danger
when romance goes awry.
Your amorous arrows
belie.
Once again the clock strikes
singing eight – it’s too late
as I relive the likes
of a cursed crippled fate -
without legs to stand on
I’ll falter
and stumble
to then fall.
Six a.m.- dawn has cracked.
You may leave – please perceive
your silk bags are all packed
there’s no time to bereave
and before you’re begone -
take this clock,
as your gift,
from my wall.
My aorta grew cold
in a bowl on your table.
Now chew me and chomp me
and swallow when able.
Cupid’s retiring -
and his bow’s being sold;
his lackluster work
I’ve cajoled.
Written for and dedicated to
my loving Father: John M. Heck
01/18/1935 - 02/14/2003
Categories:
aorta, loveme, me,
Form:
Rhyme
Minister:
I watched the wind bend trees
and break their stateliness and pride.
With force that only God creates,
Wind pushes man aside.
I ought to know by now that wind,
invisible to me.
Can, with it’s first small breath begin
a full catastrophe.
Lawyer:
Allegedly, I may have seen
some trees collapse and fall.
I’m not prepared to say, it seems,
a wind has caused it all.
I ought to know by now that wind,
(hereafter exhibit A),
is often accused of many sins.
It’s M.O. looks this way.
Doctor:
I diagnosed the falling trees,
observing in the main.
A wind, or in this case a breeze,
just may have caused this pain.
Aorta know by now that wind,
having consulted many minds,
is only the first symptom of,
tree failure of this kind.
Categories:
aorta, humorous,
Form:
Light Verse
His mother, a gaelic queen
his father, a rugged pit miner
he wishes to never be seen
being solitary has never been finer
the son of sons he was
the son of sons he became
an expectation he did cause
his brother supposedly the same
The gaelic queen wept over her fallen friend
her lover stirred and fidgeted in restless toil
it was her heart that she swore would not mend
her tears fluctuated like fine Arab oil
her son laid like the fetus that he became
heart wrenching in utter terror
he knew not of his impending fame
his aorta crumbled like the crystal mirror
the gaelic queen knew not of her sons terror
the pit miner remained as stoic as an old tree
the boy had no love, no hope and no paramour
"raise yourself from your anxious coma" his father did decree
ignorance bestowed upon the gaelic queen
felt as if her son was still clenched mid-ween
"leave this rotting nest!" she did exclaim
"mother please" he felt his heart maim
the gaelic queen banished her only son
to the cold expanse of the north sea
wrapped in barley, hair in a bun
her friend has perished, but she did not flee
her son canted the lacrimosa
the gaelic queen's companion --
laid still amongst the lux aeterna
the boy glimpsed the coastline bastion
"farewell my gaelic queen"
the boy waved to his mother
the shoreline and the sea in between
"I love you like no other"
and this was the story of the gaelic queen
a heartbroken Scottish mother
and a son who wished never to be seen
whom she loved like no other
Categories:
aorta, mom,
Form:
Rhyme
This fleeting love was so
Mustang GTO
One zero zero mpg galloping flow
Past percentages said: don’t make the wrong turn
Cool convertible joyride took a cardiac slow burn,
lip swerve around the infidelity curve
Rubber denials hit the road,
asphalt inquiries touched a raw nerve
Infatuated wheels spinning out of control ...
me thought the fantasy was real,
but the ecstasy was showroom fool’s gold
It’s a hairy situation,
my Afro instincts can feel a crash coming
Moving like an Energizer bunny,
I’m starting to feel
like a test car strapped-in dummy
Mustang love custom GTO
Binary triple digits zooming nitro —
Deceleration shift was a clutch much too slow,
had the top down
when my left will took an aorta puncture blow
I can hear the crash coming:
Icy surface eye contact
initiate the pain buffer airbag
Crushed lung gasp,
muffled passenger fear
How long did the unconsciousness last,
what happened to the frightened deer?
Pleasure vulnerable pulmonary lapse,
ventriloquist sound gave me backseat fear
Accidental pain motor reflex synapse ...
my unbuckled conscience got thrown clear
News flash: Another fresh love roadkill
Couldn’t avoid the crash,
even with no strings attached
Hopeful breathing went diaphragm still
for the wouldn’t dummy behind the will
Categories:
aorta, allusion, heartbreak, love hurts,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Deep thought
reality sometimes lets you in,
thoughts are deeds, see em pass,
across the mind, what a blast,
without a hint of sin....
let no evil thought exude,
see your sister healthy dude,
see aorta shrinking bulge,
see it happen , me indulge,
cos it can be true,
xray says it do,
Worked on cousin Alice….
Link her face with trouble too,
See her getting better, blue,
Thoughts are deeds, the magic place,
Within your mind the interface,
The helper can be you!
Positivity IS our place….
Don Johnson
Thank you Joe Maverick….
Categories:
aorta, adventure, cousin,
Form:
Ballad
Many scientists know that there are many parts of the heart
From the four valves to the aorta,
It is a beautiful thing
But there are many parts of the heart that not everyone knows about
There is lots of wisdom that fills it
It makes you figure things out easily
Love is another main part
It is the life force of everything
It helps you to find friends
And to love others with respect
Now you know, that the hear isn't just a muscle
It's a machine of love and power.
Categories:
aorta, natureheart, heart, love, ,
Form:
Free verse
Hammering on the doors of my tomb
I want to get out, I want to break through
Beauty`s a prisoner, the beast is king
Truth, the tiny bee, has a painful sting
My soul`s on fire, my body`s for hire
I`ve got boundless desire and a mind to admire
A paradise we`ve turned into a living hell
Angels without wings onto this earth fell
A dream of life in a sleep of coma
The law is fulfilled to the last iota
Feel my pulse, can`t find the aorta
The curse has spread to psycho and soma
An infinite maze lies within the gates
You go on a chase but you are chased
Find the prize or meet your own demise
Darkness forever – the light is unseen by the blind
Hammering on the doors of my tomb
I want to get out, I want to break through
Beauty`s a prisoner, the beast is king
Truth, the tiny bee, has a painful sting
Categories:
aorta, introspection, life, spiritual,
Form:
Quatrain