Best Aqueous Poems
"Home is Where the Heart Is"
Savages
behind closed doors
Civilised
but wild animals
sharpening claws
Humanity
tries to escape itself
can’t run away
from finding
"TRUE HOME"
behind closed doors
Now opening windows
fresh air
escaping shadows
Legs splayed and arms wide
breathe
"LIFE"
in for once,
we are empty vessels
noisy prisoners
in our own skin
Soul seeking Soul
peers through
the vitreous humour
99% water, salty
the Soul swims
through an ocean
towards the aqueous perimeter
facing the clear shallows
there the
"LIGHT"
penetrates the space
between the lens
like royal jelly
the Soul stands
it begins to sing
wobbling behind
the retinas reflecting
a Blue Sky
bit by WASP
kissed vehemently
in the heart
the stinging barb fixed,
Love, like a virus,
pumps the relevance
of existence
Crimson
through
Violet Blue Green rivers
Home is where the Heart Is
the hornets’ nest broken
rebirthed, awoken
wet wings spreading
unfurling in lock-down
velocity rattles
the Normals,
the civilised
wild animals
sharpening claws
a Soul
escapes the hive
dripping honey
like a Bee
pollinating white sheets
towards the Sun
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
“Home is Where the Heart Is” / The Chameleons
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOl9lohiMP8
1. The 'Vitreous Humour'
2. WASP
"Home is Where the Heart Is" / The Chameleons, Lyrics
https://genius.com/The-chameleons-home-is-where-the-heart-is-lyrics
https://visioneyeinstitute.com.au/eyematters/the-vitreous-humour/
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/all_that_is_seen_and_unseen_1223436
~I Long ForYou~
In this star-studded autumnal, late, still night.
The red, cinnamon candle burns as my soul, so bright.
The room, a forest, of most sensual you.
With rainbowed walls, that enhance our bodies, too!
How I utterly desire your soft, olive skin.
And deep eyes that so hotly draw me in.
Picture us, lost in love’s deep, aquamarine sea.
An aqueous, sensuous, fairy dream of you and me.
We can flow with moonlit,synergistic clouds
Magically, fearlessly, saying… I want you, out loud!
The loving, lace curtains flow gently, the winds on our lovers’ backs.
For there is no tomorrow, when there is nothing in the world lovers lack!
Blow your warm, rose scented blossoms on my pounding chest.
You are my forever treasure, for in loving you, life is truly the best!
9/16/2022
~1~
Dahlias and daffodils dazzle as ice darts from the cold.
Dram is kaleidoscopic as moods and thoughts collide.
A rosy sun casts hues on the sky, mixing azure and gold.
Scarlet engulfs the star as a veil that swirl and hide.
The moon, garbed in a golden gown, glides in a gray sky.
Mars and Venus soar and gems and rubies adorn high.
Behind the flashing lights of a dragonfly, clouds sway.
Dawn paints skies with crimson, fuchsia, and blue.
The sun rises as aqueous gold, kindling its vivid hue.
When a fresh day dawns in the pearl flakes of dew.
A hazy horizon wanes in an abyss of gloom to unfold.
Velvet cobwebs contrast, glimmer in a silver snide.
Enhance the appeal of a green park where kids play.
On a buoyant beach where the breeze barely blew.
Written: March 09, 2023
1st place contest winner
Writing Challenge - 'K' Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
This poem form is the Fragmented Rhyme invented and Conceived by Constance La France. It has 14 lines with indentation, and a rhyme scheme, as follows: ABABCCCDDDABCD
Before there was a world or a word
there was unfathomable loneliness
in the gaseous expanse of pin pricked night
an infinite course of vibrations, sound
nascent, coalescing, gestating,
until planets ripening birthed with souls.
There was only the orb, the throbbing soul
and an unknown longing for word,
conduits formed synapses gestating
to wavelengths of crystalline loneliness,
the aching white noise, static, lack of sound,
and the wanderers of celestial night.
Man was born to such a daunting midnight
aqueous eyes and conical ears for soul
to shattering din’s discordant sound,
no bird song, no harmony, no words,
just an aging, aching, aloneness,
of random thoughts thus wordless gestating.
A rhythm of circular gestation
formed the day and lingering became night
and thus weakened, warmed the loneliness
with woman kind He brought her soul.
Ether resounded with sheet lightening, words
for those sounds were to souls, the God sound.
Strong, silibant streams of understood sound
released from the oval egg of gestation
songs formed as man combined the God like words
croonings of passion fill the nubile night
as joinings rolled-tidal of mated souls.
Word all powerful had freed loneliness.
Each creature gifted an end to loneliness
earth, water, fire ,wind, all given sound,
all graced beloved with shimmering souls,
hatched from the dragon’s egg, life gestates
into the bountiful passage of night.
Cherish the ever present presence of the Word.
No longer alone, a sound vibrating within
each atom relates to the soul, gestation continues
in the night's never-ending cycle of the Word's life.
*My PASSION is SONG
* Many lines have internal RHYME as well as
the end rhyme achieved by the use of the same words.
*Dedicated to inspiration achieved
through the writings of L'Nass Shango & David Smalling
This earth
Oh what a curious thing to perceive
Existing within its home, the Universe
A unique, rare and aqueous marble
With a lifespan well surpassing our own
We call it our home, but it is only for rent
Things will begin to change
Humanity will try resist
We are in a system that has long been set in motion
A plan that we cannot stop
Green
What a faction of false hope
A color stained in negativity
Greed, Money, Power, Politics
Oh what a sly plan
A thorn stabbed in the lions paw
Our advantage taken against an orb in suffering
This trusting earth
Telling a secret
Our society
Screaming it to the world
We were vacationing in the state of
palm trees and seashore in September's
mild loveliness.
Me, a sexagenarian widow,
hobbled by arthritis in my knees.
As my family enjoyed the surf,
I sat contented on a creaking
wooden pier,
taking in the salted breeze tossing
my gray hair.
I heard the seawater beneath me
ripple, then a splash,
and a masculine, "Hello,"
there in the mossy colored brine was he.
His long brunette hair flecked with
sun kissed gold,
it was entwined with tiny conch shells.
His build of brawn and burnished skin,
eyes of an amber hue.
Handsome in oceanic resplendence-
I then realized he was a merman!
As his iridescent lower body of sapphire
scales and magnificent fins swirled in
the foaming waters,
I thought what would such a youthful
merman want with an elderly woman
like me,
when there were younger women
bringing their charms to the sea?
He spoke again, and I was mesmerized,
"You were once a maiden,
a strong swimmer of the waves,"
he mysteriously smiled,
"King Poseidon remembers his
people of the deep,
although you are aged and infirm,
your soul is of the aqueous realm,
and know this message I give to
you today,
while you sleep neath the late summer
moonlight tonight,
we merpeople love you for your
caring of our vast oceans and
their life."
He reached out his strong hand
momentarily,
and placed a perfect pink pearl
into my outstretched hand.
His eyes so captivating that I
never wanted to stop gazing
into them.
As he softly bid me a farewell,
his fins slapped the waters,
as waiting dolphins leapt in happy unison,
and he disappeared beyond the edge
of the pier.
Charleston Merman,
I'll never forget you,
a sweet nautical memory,
as the perfect pink pearl is displayed on
white velvet on my nightstand. ~
From this aqueous orb flows joy, sorrow, and all recall.
Sunshine makes the lid close, and long lashes fall
Darkness makes .the small pupils grow
Sadness and laughter can make tears flow
A lie can not be hidden by the darkest eye.
Love abides in a colored hue of a true sigh.
Delight of consciousness arise
within the purple iris of a lovers surmise.
Buddha’s all seeing eye watches over all large and small
From theses aqueous orbs flows joy, sorrow, and all recall.
*Testing Concrete verse using both positive and negative space.
*Rhyme in a concrete form.
mirrors are flawless til observed ~ yet beauty dwells in a broken shard
yelled the beast stabbing it into his eyes ~ i’m beyond horribly scarred
still he laughed quite menacingly ~ as his aqueous humour discharged
#aqueous humour# (i’ll let you look it up) hms
By David Kavanagh
Before I first crawled from a mythical ocean
light years before history began to take itself seriously
I was told to spin new myths.
The dead-not-so-dead gave me buckets of myths.
“This is your mission,” they said, “carry these buckets
one by one to a place called, solid footholds."
The buckets had water in them
for myths need an aqueous environment.
Because they swam in the same bucket
the myths became mixed, some copulated
spawning more myths.
In a dream I was told that if the place called
solid footholds ever ran out of myths
it would blow away in a cloud of dust.
Until now the buckets have not run dry,
been spilled or wasted
but the place of solid footholds
is drying up for want of more mythical tales.
I am not the only myth carrier, there are many.
If you are one of those then carry buckets
to the place of solid footholds
before its footprints are gone forever.
9/22/2023
Just like the lake of melting wax, on a candle gives off light,
Life is not about championing the selfish, golden prize!
Hopefully, I stay thankful with all my earthy might.
And, pray that I may one day, be welcome to Paradise.
I know how circuitous and bizarre life can be on this earth.
There are bright poet-angels on this firmament to support you.
But you, poets, know how cherished you were since birth.
Through at time..others are so disingenuously untrue!
From me comes deepest, soul-aqueous blue, appreciation
Blessed by waterfall. lessons on life, I studiously learned.
Transformations, not spigots of information.
And I know, you each will get all you truly deserved.
WHITE SHADOW
-------------------
Cornered in opalescence
No walls to be found
The abyss its residence
The address unknown
Its countenance clear
As frozen solid stone
Collaged in aqueous blue
Painted misty gray
Its irridescence seen
But presence unseen
Epitomizes the trace
Of a fallible illusion
Portray as fumes of
Charcoal colored flames
Steams of vaporous smoke
Swim the swarms of air
Bounding deep its breaths
Breaded by the blare
Of pugnacious myriads of pawns
Barricading the breeze
As brooms' brushes to dust
Swept in swift and soft
Reversal rhythmic rush
Pieces' plethoras ensnared
By touching tips of the hay
Collected quick, no care
Absent a tic's delay
A patent feather has found
Its primmest of places
As paupers planted in pits
In primes of penurious spaces
This putrid particle puffs
Within subsisting liquid
As pints of pluvial drops
Descend devoid of sound
Upon the grazes of glitch
Within the greenest of grasses
A flood of footsteps fringe
Upon the ears of deafened ground
Each heels howls its horns
But gravel hears no sound
Ignites the morning spark
As gently candle lit flames
A sightless, sceneless spurt
Illumined just the same
~Poetra Jah~
The curvature of the eye,
marred by irregularity, distorts.
Rain falling through the aqueous orb
of eye or earth prisms,
propelling points of light skyward,
producing rainbows.
Sunlight following by the curve
curls rising ever skyward
from the steaming surface
of earth and sea to joining
on the wind.
The curvature of the eye
marred by irregularity distorts.
The child looks out and up
into the parental face, through the lashes
of this imperfect form and settles, smiling.
knowing no norm, only accepting the is.
The adult: cut, crisp, dried, and molded,
cries; mourning the loss of perfection
denying the value of imperfection
with a stubbornness born of naming.
Name nothing, for in not naming,
the eye can accept all things as beautiful.
First Published in Dual Coast Magazine Issue 1 2014
ADRIFT
-----------
Swallowed by waves
Intensely waged in war
A mariner swims seized
In anarchic zones
Colliding crests of clear
Currents clash/clutch
Shifting and drifting it
Further from shallow
Fluidic floors
Lingering lured beneath
Deep aqueous lands
He swims sedate a
Straight stroking lap
Embarked on his quests
To cults of creatures as featured
Foreshadowed and seen
In rippling revelation
The chilling cool
Of the seas quench
The tip of his tongue
Tantalizing his thirst
While the lighthouse bells
Roar renouncing the curse
Concocted clamantly by
Imps tightly towered ashore
In aimless search of
He who fiercely fled
Like a falcon freed
From the flooding floors
Mellow sweet melodies
Sound a sugar's energy burst
Beaming bright as the sun
Sparks the dawn's white flame
Shading the scenes a
Deific seraphim's drape
As the towering sky's
Blue clothed in white cape
How brilliantly a defunct figure
Darted deep in the distance
Shapes an empryean eel
Adrift its ocean's reticence
~Poetra Jah~
The ink blot can BLINK
Hurrah! TODAY I think
Now a SPLOTCH is in the sink
With water I did not drink
If I spot this BLOTCH I'll scream
Bringing a crowd to this scene
Calming them all with CREAM
BUT this shock may never be
If I can wash it away with
Aqueous fluid indeed it will
Spill into the drain and glide
Onto infinite PARALLEL PLAINS
THE BLOTCH of SPLOTCH never
To be seen AGAIN. HURRAH!
The tree
That “Britches” Sees
1-21-2012
During the frigid night
Hoarfrost has embraced her branches
As a tight fitting tunic,
Tailor made, just for her.
Night Wind’s chaffing bite
Has long since given way to crisp morning air,
And snow has lengthened into fog,
Past where aqueous eyes can take in;
Facing east, car’s window rolled down,
A broken barb wire fence, this tree,
And a subtle hint of promise,
Where a rising sun will soon be;