Best Are Poems
Some of us are secretive at first. We hide our poetry’s soul self,
gently letting her peep out; sometimes regretting it immediately.
Fearful of critiques from people who do not understand that poetry
is something we are compelled and born to do with our feelings.
Your diary entries may form themselves into goodness or badness
before you realize your calling as a poet.
Truths shockingly ooze out, surprising you.
Feelings creep out onto a page, in loud angry letters,
or romantic feelings daintily brush onto a crisp lined page
in the form of sweetness and light.
You are a word player, because you cannot
stop this obsession, but it does not define you.
This poetry gig is but a glimmer of a glimpse of yourself.
You might be a caregiver, or a wonderful friend.
People who count on your smile every day may not realize
you have a love affair with words, and an obsession to write them.
We are each a unique jewel, mined from God’s mind.
Poetry may initiate a whisper of a tiny facet of ourselves,
but our secrets are safe. We not merely poets. We are lovers
of life, and words. Most importantly, we remain gloriously hidden
and unknown to most.
Written 12-20-18 Contest: You Are Not Defined by Poetry
Sponsor: John Hamilton
My poems are conceived, not within the womb,
which long time now has been devoid of seed.
My poems are born from a need to be heard:
my thoughts, passions, sentiments and beliefs.
They start as fragments,
flecks of ash from my mind's abyss,
a restless volcano that never long sleeps.
The particles of ash collect and form together.
Feverishly I rush to absorb them all
as captured words on scribbled scraps of papers,
employing metaphor, play on word,
or sounds deliberately paced, and grace of rhythm.
I mold my poems meticulously to my image,
and then they emerge, fatherless but freed.
Each, my voice, shares her sisters' ways,
but unique, is cradled in the pages of my book,
where, satisfied with my labor, I can turn to them
and often look as a mother does on her infant babe.
Unlike, however, mortal children can do,
when I am through with them, they do not change,
and fully formed, they rarely disappoint.
As some have loved the fruit of my own flesh,
I hope they'll love my poem children too.
For Natasha L. Scragg's Throwback Challenge Poetry Contest
*This poem was posted in 2010, but I think I actually wrote it around 2001. I had been dabbling in poetry for less than a year at that time, and I had written so few poems that I would save them on decorated paper and read them again and again because I felt like I had created magic. Although I had played around with a few love poems and Christmas song parodies in my youth, I did not really see myself as a poet until after 2000 (when I was over 40 years old).
We Are One
Dear Ancient Sister
I hear your distant calls finding me on a gentle breeze
You have lived in my dreams for many seasons
My voice
Your voice
My soul
Your soul
And our Coming of Age
I have always known you...
I have heard your
Quiet whispers echoing in
The night coming close to me
I call to you ...
Let me be a part of your breath
I have always known your wounds and sorrow
I see the light and magic in your eyes...
The pain you carry so eloquently
I see your reflection in the clouds above
Carrying your soul wound on your sleeve
I see the deep crevasses and lines
In your grandmother’s hands
I hear the secrets beneath the earth of
Your grandfather’s footsteps
I see your reflection in the twilight
Of the evening... against pink watermelon hills
Your voice beckoning me onward closer to you
I see you in the moon and stars
Your buckskin dress adorned with
Ceremonial beads
Abalone shell against your forehead
The dirt beneath your moccasins
Grateful for the kiss of your dancing feet
I hear the echo in the distance of songs
The Elders sang...
During their passage here
You are born into a woman
Before my eyes and heart
Before your tribe
Before nature
A wise new feline
A mystical power with endless allure
A force that lifts and unites us all
As one
Your rays blessing us and leaving
A welcome imprint on our hearts
My Ancient sister
I drink in your wisdom and grace
I fly on your wings
You have shown me your world
Watching you dance
Becoming you for moments in time
Your silhouette etched by
The wild flames behind you
A glow radiating into
The night sky
The stories of your Ancestors
Filling the air with
Words and lessons and song
Notes sung into clenched fists
With bloodstained hands
The children and animals
Sensing all that was
And all that will ever be...
The call of a distant bird
The thumping of your cane on
The hungry earth
Keeping time with
The movements of your body
You will look back on this
Day as you walk with the
Same cane down the path of
Old Age...
Your wisdom
Cupping your heart gently
Ancient Sister of mine
I am in gratitude for
Your strength and courage
The kiss of your words and
The teardrops of your loss
Susan Lawrence
Copyright 2020
Original Artwork
Susan Lawrence
Remembering when
Perched high above on rocky crags
Cliffs weathered by times handprints
I saw far and wide to distant shores
Tendrils of desire radiating outwards
Riding the briny mist
Being carried by the breath of the ocean, my constant companion
Hearing the distant voices, the silent tears
The bursts of passion ~ love and loss
I ride the wings of hope and change
Towards the beckoning landscape of
Creation, mystery, and nuance
A vibration fills the air
The quiet chanting of our ancient brothers and sisters
Their words floating in effervescent bubbles
Tinged with melodies so clear
We are one ~ We are here
Let us bathe you in light
Let us heal your wounds
Let us give you hope
We are all mirrors of one another
We share one breath
We are connected like the mycelium under the ground
Our journey is peaceful
Come to us with your pain, your heartache,
Your fear and your loss
We are here to listen
Our ears and hearts are open
You have come to a safe sanctuary to reveal your secrets
Your darkness, your desires, and your bliss
Without judgement
This is a time of renewal
Tiny green hummingbird lays lifeless on the ground
Surrounded by new life
Glittering musical notes sound as
Pink butterflies gather
Gentle wind of wings bringing change
Warm rain falls as we make our way
Through the kaleidoscopes of turquoise, teal, lime and chartreuse
Sunlight reflections
Moss, furry seedlings, and ferns
Intertwine dancing in the shafts of light
A steady illuminated procession
Sweat running down our bodies
We are a train of humanity pushing forward
Through the dense moist jungle
Coming upon a clearing to witness
The newborn baby girl wrapped in velvet greenery
A majestic glowing beacon shining her light
On all of us
Howling
The chatter of monkeys as they scramble down limbs to join us
We feel her heartbeat
We meld into one another seamlessly
Swaying gently in unison
To honor, rejoice and celebrate
Receiving the gift of what it is to be human
Slowly the child is lifted into the air
Aloft on fingertips of joy
The Circle of Life begins
And we return to the simple act
Of loving and giving to one another
Into eternity
Yes, life is tough!
I know there are struggles in life that we all go through.
Sometimes we secretly hide them away,
some for fear and others just because
they have no one who cares for them.
But you my dear,
I know you do not ask for much,
but I see sadness in your beautiful eyes.
I can feel your heartache
and those tears leaving trails down your cheeks.
You may not realise it,
but your pain becomes mine...
I ache for you too!
I'm here for you always.
Let me hold you awhile!
I want to wipe your tears away,
place the brightest star in your heart.
If pain can be transferred,
I would gladly take them from you,
carry the burden for you.
You are so dear to me,
I love you with all my heart.
You know I'll do anything for you,
I'll drive many miles to get you -
~ anytime ~ anywhere.
So head up baby!
Quit sitting still and letting sadness seep
its way deep into your heart and soul.
Come rest your head on my shoulder,
I will hold you close,
promise to never let go.
Dry those tears and let's start a new day.
Together we are strong
For contest: Togetger we are strong
Sponsor: Silent One
3-14-18
Where on Earth or far beyond do we poets go, you ask.
My thoughts willingly stretch my imagination with this task.
I would reply...in any direction our ink chooses to flow.
To the light of dawn or to dark telltale shadows of Poe
There are no boundaries that could rein in a poet's mind,
even if we have the mournful misfortune of going blind.
A poet is not harnessed by sight like a horse to a carriage.
From memory our vision serves us in a sort of marriage,
a bond without rings and vows that gives us wings to fly
among stars, or to realms a common man cannot descry.
To know sin's sorrow, we would walk through a fiery hell
if it would give us the insight that living could not quell.
Inspiration is our weapon, feathered arrows we shoot,
aiming for the rhyming words and chasing in hot pursuit.
Though our muse flees, and crumbled pages lie at our feet,
our mind struggles in unrest but will not concede defeat.
On ventured missions, traveling where our hearts will lead.
Among distant galaxies, where we collect poetic seed
to plant in fertile delta land or in sandy deserts on Earth,
cultivating cogent lines, to which our scribing gives birth.
Fathering or mothering verses from infancy to fruition.
Editing until at last, our brainchild is worthy of submission.
We see far beyond mundane realities of life and reason.
Writing from the heart, rebuking the penalty of treason.
We wind through mazes of each personal poetic anecdote.
Exposed is our nakedness in each lyrical line we ever wrote.
June 20, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney.
Woe to the hands of time
Woe, how quickly it changes
Changes with so much haste
Changes without stop
Stop wrong ideas
Stop feelings of hate
Hate is wasted emotion
Hate causes wounds
Wounds that remain
Wounds need to heal
Heal with kindness
Heal with belief
Belief in my words
Belief that I pursue
Pursue without facade
Pursue to diffuse
Diffuse the animosity
Diffuse misconstrued thoughts
Thoughts wrongly assumed
Thoughts mistaken
Mistaken by a few
Mistaken by clueless pens
Pens should not be swords
Pens should write words
Words of good faith
Words that put an end
End to all the suspicion
End to negativity
Negativity breeds gloom
Negativity does no good
Good vibes bring positivity
Good intentions for a new start
Start by writing poems
Start seeing things as trivial
Trivial to our lives
Trivial, believe it or not
Not suggesting brotherhood
Not turning away from harmony
Harmony on some level
Harmony to act like adults
Adults who don't slander
Adults who can coexist
Coexist as pacifists
Coexist as poets
Poets in a community
Poets should be encouraging
Encouraging with their comments
Encouraging and supportive
Supportive…
Comments…
To you who have
never received a love letter ~
Here is the one I write to you
so you may hold it in your hands
and carry it next to your heart.
You are a kind soul and have bestowed love,
you've seen beauty where there were clouds
~ to you I offer gentleness as a bouquet.
My thoughts are genuine and caring,
my heart goes out to you because
you deserve the gift of tenderness.
You deserve to be told daily
how beautiful you are inside out and
how you make this world a better place.
AP: 2nd place 2025
POTD May 20, 2025
Are Flowers for Picking?
I question myself,
silently standing beside
the quaint wooden kiosk
in the centre of the square.
My eyes scan the freshly
picked assortment of roses,
carnations, lilies, and orchids.
The array of colours tempts,
softening niggling doubts
arising from tender pity.
I enter the hospice, briskly
making my way to her room.
Her haggard face lights up,
slightly masking her fragility.
A wan withering rose…
I swiftly hide my pain
behind a loving smile and
the fresh flowers in my hand.
-------------------------------
Placed 1st in Brian Strand's
Pick 1 Contest (April 2020)
A lover
dies a millions times,
cursing the silence
of his tongue.
A poet
bleeds a million times,
until his heart has expressed
what matters the most.
When there is no poetry,
mind struggles to comprehend,
why what is expected to be heard,
is left unspoken.
When winds bring no respite,
all is forgotten in time,
memories may return to haunt,
but some hearts are meant to say goodbye.
Simple Musing
Silent One
29 April 2019
Along the feathered edge, a red sun-sets
To bind the evening in dreams eyes explore
Two hearts will greet, till' paradise begets
Love leaves impressions as waves swirl to shore
These caps of white will churn warmly the sand
The world will pass, the change of light is missed
Lonely eyes search for their yearning dreamland
When lips taste fire in a hungry kiss
As night arrives to shelter silhouettes
Soft is the sea to these two souls afar
In a twilight's pulse when the tide resets
And hands hold tight to await the Daystar
The fate of these lovers sealed in evermore
Tomorrow's memory from the seashore
9/3/18
ROSES ARE RED
The flower’s crimson cerise hue
creates the petal’s grand debut
of love and memories to recall
my florid sanguine gift of all
VIOLETS ARE BLUE
Azalea breath with foxglove tones
embellish with an azure clone
herbaceous with a petal white
where insects set and birds alight
SUGAR IS SWEET
Bright butterflies on zephyr breeze
sip nectar from Sakura trees
I watch them dance from break of dawn
on flowers where their wings adorn
AND SO ARE YOU
You sent me a bouquet of love
drifting down from heaven above
Candy kisses sweet as fructose
on bended knee you now propose
06-22-17
Collaboration Jan Allison and Ralph Sergi
open your doors
close all the windows
sleeping's such a bore
suffocate it with pillows
psh, i'm not hellbent
shut your mouth
it's called character development
WOOPS. broke routine again
and the poem's gone south.
made myself out to be the bad guy
so they wouldn't feel as sad when i die
so many
so many damn times you told me
all those uplifting words regarding my significance
did i ever stop to listen?
now look at all this tension
i am the patient
you're the asylum
this heart rate is hesitant
unless you revive them
i'm the addiction and
you are the needle
i'm the mutilation
you're the scars that will heal
i am the stash
and you're the supplier
i am the match and
you are the fire
you are the truth
and i am the dare
you are the daydream
i'm the nightmare
i am the cigarette
you are the lighter
i am the pirouette
you're the choreographer
we all are so sad
we've both lost our thrill
that's just too bad but
we both know the drill
made myself out to be the bad guy
so i wouldn't feel as sad when i die
Declining the urge to go with the flow I swim upstream,
there to spawn and hatch countless dreams which freely
flow and then disperse in the vast ocean of my life.
--------------------------------
Contest: Any Birthday Poem
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Written on my birthday:
16th February, 2016
Contest: River of Dreams
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A.
Placed 3rd
Chosen POTD 18th Feb 2016
We are Nasty Women
When we hear haughtiness, we name it
When we see bullying, we blame it
We are Nasty Women
We do not daintily defer
For selfish whims of a saboteur
We will not walk three steps behind
We will not sheathe our sharpened minds
We are logic's clear eloquence
We are unyielding consequence
We are Nasty Women
We are out of many, one
We are the soldiers of every war
We are astronauts and commodores
We are the activists of plundered Earth
We are the executives who expect our worth
We are the advocates of facts, unsuppressed
As we walk the corridors of Congress
And we are far from done.
6/06/19
Poem of the Day
June 8th, 2019