Best Arcing Poems
Walking in sailor fields amongst the nettles picking blackberries,
the brambles cut deep savage the mind. Yet the bowl to be filled
the jam to be boiled the bread of hope to be flavourful,
the innocence of it all enhanced by the beauty of this place.
an arcing rainbow
blazon sky holds cotton clouds
wild tussocks frolic
The village shimmers in idyllic peace, the veil of eastern promise
chases the setting sun, bequeath a heavenly sequin blanket, to
lovingly cloak God’s very own. Life had not changed much
in the place, except some men returned leaving their memories
over yonder, while others stayed away their bones to lay within
‘Alien soil.’ ‘England expects.’ Et cetera!
striped bees’ pink clover
rich meadows so verdant wait
wild poppies stand tall
Alas the hurt does not diminish for those left behind, walking alone
in their beloved sailor fields amongst the nettles picking blackberries,
where the sweetest words of love they shared together no more said
only the shadows the silhouettes and these moments truly blest.
dragonfly hunting
dandelion seeds gliding
wild wind song regaled
© Harry J Horsman 2022
A revamped free verse
Categories:
arcing, memory,
Form:
Haibun
In transit through the time-zones, trails her colours everywhere,
Her spectrographic spectrums lance ethereal through the air,
Fragmenting rainbow spears and curves of bending light,
Arcing jet-streams counterpoint with sunspots blinding bright.
And in the dreams I have of her beneath blown skies of tangerine,
Angelic, incandescent, paints the sweetest forms I’ve ever seen.
Elated on the desert winds she flickers some prismatic ghost,
Tripping ruined beauty from each pillar to each mystic post,
Deep emerald light refracted as cracked ice in shining eyes,
A telepathic temptress breathing winter sleep and summer sighs.
And in the morning sun that kisses glacial seas of bathtub blue,
She walks the dunes of memory, on golden beaches combing through.
Categories:
arcing, life, love, mystery, nostalgia,
Form:
Verse
I have heard a myth, a rumor,
A legend long ago told.
About a mighty being eastward
With arcing wings of gold.
Its breath alone brewed fierce storms
A shaken feather made thunder roar.
And God have mercy on the soul
Caught in her rage's downpour.
I have heard this myth, this rumor,
This story handed down.
Of a beast powerful and brilliant
That wears lightning as it's crown.
When I met the rain
And listened to every droplet fall,
I swear that through the tapping
I heard her mesmerizing call.
As temptation was too much,
I ventured out into the gale.
And found myself under her gaze
With my face flushing pale.
Though chaos engulfed us both,
Peace was still in her eye.
Despite the pandemonium
She commanded the sky.
When I met the rain,
And felt the splatter on my skin
I finally met the legend
I had always believed in.
Just to stand this close
To be here struck by awe
In the presence of perfection
This being without flaw.
To feel the radiant energy
To breathe the same air
Of Her Majesty unrivaled
With whom none compare.
Just to stand this close
To be found where you are
Is a greater blessing
Than any given me thus far.
You, mighty Thunderbird,
Are creation's pride and joy.
Complete supreme beauty
That nothing could destroy.
There exists no equal
On earth, in heaven, or sea
For no one else can boast
Such intricate complexity.
You wear a thousand masks
And rarely show your face.
But I have seen your heart,
It's cracked elegance; it's fractured grace.
You, precious Thunderbird,
Are all I've wished to find.
And now that I have seen you,
I can't get you off my mind.
Categories:
arcing, for her,
Form:
Rhyme
Still brook reflects the morning silver light
damselflies play chase between the reeds
dun cygnets now awash in virgin white
as through the mist a new dawn slowly bleeds.
Bare branches splay, verdant in gloves of green
pink blossom proudly flaunts the shawl it wears
the willow, many months stood shy, unseen
now brilliant, branches arcing like a flare.
I, too, feel something must emerge within
in concert with Spring's promise, hopes arise
leaving dark thoughts behind, what might have been
and see afresh the future with new eyes.
Each year this season nature freely gives,
give thanks, arise, move on, and truly live.
Categories:
arcing, introspection, seasons,
Form:
Sonnet
The child, now sleeping, loudly snores.
The nightlight shines there on the wall.
If you could peer under the door,
The sight awaiting would enthrall:
It seems the toys have come to life!
They are engaged in no mere game:
A toyland battle to the death!
The superheroes are to blame;
The men in green have few troops left;
Their losses heavy in the strife.
With Duplo blocks, they barricade,
Regroup their forces there behind.
They inventory their grenades,
Make mental notes of where they've mined,
Prepare to meet their tragic end.
Magneto rises from the floor,
Unleashes his attractive beam;
The troops let out a racous roar,
for they are plastic, it would seem,
thus to his will they do not bend.
A team dispatched to try and flank,
To scale the chair, come from the back.
But Hulk awaits them like a tank,
Behind a pillow, sneak attack.
The spear is blunted, further thinned.
The captain, knowing things are dire,
Determines he will save the men,
and laying bare some lamp cord wire,
he challenges Magneto then;
His sergeant understands and grins.
Magnetic forces back in play,
the soldier runs, flips the switches.
The predator becomes the prey;
Magneto, arcing current, twitches:
a turning point in this grim war.
The flash of light wakes up the child;
she bolts up, eyes now open wide.
The spell is broken; meek and mild,
the toys, inert, lay side by side.
Her head back down, again she snores.
----------
So that's an ABABC DEDEC tail-rhyme, and kind of a fun one!
Categories:
arcing, dream, war,
Form:
Tail-rhyme
Through my living room window
I see the most beautiful glen
With granites of grey
Towering up to a Ben
Greened spreads of heather
Purples and white
Amidst an ocean of green
A most wonderful sight
Forested slopes
Carpet the glens sides
Whilst a sparkling river
Centers the great divide
I look to the skies
As they turn battleship grey
An impending storm
Is heading my way
It looks like the glen
Is in for one hell of a night
The last storm we had
Was an explosive delight
Fork lightening, thunder
Obscured by clouds
One follows the other
Arcing out loud
I await the winds
And the vertical rains
Lashing with force
Against my cottage panes
Suddenly, theres a massive roar
More powerful than i have heard before
A sheet of lightening lit up the sky
Capturing the Ben of granite high
This man of old, caught in silhouette
Standing guard over his beautiful glen
This icon, this keeper of the Saltire Blue
Stands tall and proud like Highland men
Hours pass as i look on in awe
From my cottage window through the rain laiden panes
The power of nature in many scenes
Drums and a light show washed down with champagne
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-3.php
Categories:
arcing, nature, placesbeautiful, beautiful,
Form:
Quatrain
I accidently let one loose today
I've cooked earth's goose its fair to say
I won't pretend it wasn't me
Soon it'll be clear for all to see.
Who even knew that was a containment field
and an innocent stumble would cause it to yield
its inhabitant singularity
was a well kept secret evidentially.
Til I let it go - chased it thru the door
- hole in one - then thru the floor
Two of the little buggers headed for the roof
they can multiply I have the proof.
Mathematical joy they did perform
Arcing thru cars, pipes, sieving up a storm
flickering jolts of fiery light
following their orbiting trailing delight.
So many now - not long to wonder
til earth's a faulty falling colander.
So, sorry for the whole untidy mess
But I did front up and confess.
Hadron Collider Cleaner
Written 8th July
For Charles Messina Contest
I accidentally let one Loose
Categories:
arcing, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
it moved on its own like electricity
shimmering
sparking in the wires
arcing light
or
like air in my tires
...you rolled
drove me
roved me with sleight of hand
melt of my belts
turn of the wheelhouse
you slid me to left
rocked me hard to right
dressed me
cloaked me
in one single wild flower
you caressed me
with silk
stole my manners...you left nothing of me
I was the milk and honey
you drank
grew tall and I small
humbled before the tidal turquoise caverns
deep trenches
rip tide pull
I am round as the supple pie
you lithe as stripped bark
my rings go round and ripple outward into the world
you satellite me
I forever circle you
Categories:
arcing, love,
Form:
Free verse
MY TREE - IT SHALL SURVIVE
Beside the Kinta River still it stands
Colossus of the primal forest panoply
Residing native of the fecund land
It’s limbs supporting graceful arcing canopy
A wondrous teeming aerial village live
It shall survive
A plume of smoke in still cool morning air
Warned of a threat to life of our dear friend
I dragged back fire and damped consuming flames
From perilled home of copious verdant life
Reprieved to face more challenges, and strive
It shall survive
Bearing scars, endured with grace of old patrician
Looking on unchanged, while all around contrive
‘til once more needing care of a passing physician
It shall survive
Each time I pass that way, I muse as I see
With warm complacent notion : ‘That’s my tree!’
13 September 2019
Writing Challenge 2, September 2019 - The Photograph
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
Categories:
arcing, nature,
Form:
Narrative
He’s a guy, he’s just a guy
He will not look away
He will look you in the eye
He will fart
It will stink
Blow his nose
Spit in the sink
Cuz he’s a guy, just a guy
He will help ya change a flat
Tell ya when you’re gettin’ fat
He will take two twisted wires
And with a pair of pliers
Fix that toy that made you cry
Yes!! He’s that guy
If he’s really lucky
He’ll meet a damsel cute and plucky
And when people ask her “why”
She’ll reply:
“cuz he’s my guy!”
So all you guys in waiting
Beware the traps that they are baiting
For all “fishermen” believe
It’s not the catch it’s the retrieve
Just remember they’re are women
Who still enjoy naked swimmin’
And a walk along the beach
Her guys hand in easy reach
But, he will stop to take a pee
Arcing it into the sea
Then forget to zip his fly
Cuz ….HE’S A GUY
Categories:
arcing, fun, humor, men,
Form:
Rhyme
A little ways north of Mill Creek
the beach runs round
to a single wide arcing swath
Where the tide stems landward in shattered segments
fast against the open mouth
of sea and sand and barnacle
There is also a cliff near the free stone rising
above the under-base of a million waves
throttling a darkened face
Somewhere out of sight
from landlocked eyes
salt water still churns
And churns for a million years
oblivious to the damage
inflicted on the crumbling mass
It's as if the big bass drum
of agonies from time immemorial
strums a one note dirge
And thereby summons the shelving mist
to curtail the pitiful death
from the tired eyes of a dumbfounded poet
Who loiters in the wet hiss
like a reporter in search of tragedy
and finding none, returns to home
Categories:
arcing, beach, , memorial,
Form:
Free verse
Motor is nudged to life in an arcing motion, arm pulling
cord. Vein-furrowed hands grasp the fishing pole,
slinging bait and tackle beneath one arm. Another
arcing motion, arm casting pole. Bobber spins
a helicopter course through sun-nipped air.
Loons call a soulful greeting, the moans of centuries'
separated lovers in mourning. Time trickles through
the notes of their songs. Meanwhile, bass glide
with their loud-mouthed sass,
perch and blue gills play tag. A lone
blue heron bills the murky depths for lunch.
Man baits his hook, readjusts his hat. Eyes squint
into the dark undertones of the pond. He casts
his pole, a fermata in the song of the loons. When this man
was a boy, he drove the spires of the Rocky Mountains,
frequented the five-and-dime, nuzzled
a nightly routine next to his wife, who mothered six children, raised
in a house far away from any pond. They bustled themselves
along through school as well as any fish pouncing on
supper-flies, dabbing napkins to the corners
of their mouths. This fisherman sliced their steak, knotted their ties,
held their hands crossing the street
until they were old enough to
mail college resumes,
pay for first dates.
Five years,
fifteen years,
thirty-two years and here is Granddad,
with his child's toddler learning to walk in the bowed
belly of his fishing boat. They stumble,
clanging clumsy feet on the metal, frightening
the fish away. The old man bends low,
a note in the song of the loons.
He places the toddler on two feet, guides her hesitant steps,
each pendulum swing carrying them a moment
further toward separation. In twelve years, the grown child
bends low, a note in the song of the loons, to kiss her
grandfather's forehead, as he casts off on his helicopter
course of afterlife.
Categories:
arcing, childhood, children, emotions, eulogy,
Form:
Free verse
Of cold and clear December skies,
and wisplike clouds with deep, blue eyes.
Full moon adrift with stars in tow,
bright sheen and twinkle, night in flow.
We savor this night's arcing sweep
while strolling near our earthly keep,
surveying vast, celestial spheres
to learn your secrets, so austere.
We stand and ponder heaven's glow
now sharing light with earth below.
Is vast long night and sleep our prize;
are moon and stars omniscient, wise?
Oh, moon and stars set on your course
we ask you roveal your source,
and share enigmas from the deep
while we wait quietly for sleep.
Full moon you seem in all ways wise.
are stars the tears that night skies cry?
December night's supernal show
a calming scene, a fine tableau.
December Skies
12-6-14
Categories:
arcing, appreciation, moon, night, stars,
Form:
Couplet
Elevator Man
A wrinkled hand
rotates Time's worn handle of half circles
giving arrest to past rides awakened
Up and down
listening
hearing
never forgetting
Watch your step
Ornate iron confinement
charming for youth
insulation for some
sentencing for others
Cables retch echoing secrets within
sliding metal dregs past elevated remembrances
among whispered conspiracies
softly spoken nothings
muffled weeping
all preambles shadowed
in corners of illusive passage
Momentary respite
gradually gives way to silent whimpers of fear
as passengers await floor-stops
fortune
reward
love
penthouse dreams
Elevator man's eyes rise
Arcing brass arrow above
waves Wisdom's index finger
past invisible floor thirteen
allowing today's filigree of delusions to remain patient...
for the moment
Categories:
arcing, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
Famed gold crepuscular rays angling down
Knifing in between, through volcanic haze
Hualalai and Mauna Loa’s crowns
Fire Goddess Pele greets fresh island day
Fuchsia blooms explode, steal attention
Pollens mingle on zephyr coastal breeze
Hallowed entry, this tropic dimension
Surf thunder backdrop, soundtrack of the sea
Running shoes crunching the roadside lava
Kaleidoscopic blooms, soon to transmute
Mango, papaya, lilikoi, guava
Untended harvest of paradise fruit
Slow tempo set to the island perfume
Soul dances in the fragrant sensation
Unbridled speed would be this journey’s doom
Not to give in to the exultation
Entering town, the cast of characters
Pungent whiffs of spoiled fish atop stale rice
Green Shangri-La’s dingy inheritors
Tropical Bukowski's frayed paradise
Amphetamine native, drawn skin and bones
Wincing eyes, loose grasp, cigarette homespun
Tribal markings long burnt, faded blue tones
Completed journey, dark side of the sun
Manicured denizens clutter the way
Fair guests at the Royal Lik’a’Heini
Young surf seekers grimace to greet the day
Pakalolo Hostel, skunk-and-briny
Volta at the pier, Triathlon’s temple
Hallowed asphalt, footfalls of history
World’s smartest man living life so simple
Broom pushing, tune whistling, smiling at me
I should run faster; it's Ali’i Drive
Temple of Ironman’s Marathon pride
Vainglorious dreams have boiled alive
Burgeoning pace, a seaside suicide
Fair breeze has halted, sharp rays now reigning
Blanket of torpor fights progress forward
Through fragrant pillow, all fight is draining
A ballistic migraine arcing southward
Demons exorcised, sultry purgation,
Epic journey ends in clear sacred brine
Feet dive in wet sand, a bless’t sensation
Gaia’s ocean of sweat swallowing mine
4/28/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
Categories:
arcing, beauty, flower, humanity, nature,
Form:
Quatrain