Best Arresting Poems
I'm afraid
So afraid
Of being arrested
By the thought police
Their rules are many
Think this
Think that
Don't diverge from the normal
Stop playing on the street corner of tomorrow
Let sleeping dogs rest
Do not question
Do not burn on passionate bonfires
I watch as they ready their weapons
They display arresting warrants through clouded glass
Fifty shades of bland
Cuffs dangling from bulging belts
Bound in self rightous blunder
They wait outside my door
Screaming bull horns command me to exit my paper freedom
I am blinded by search lights, forced to use my third eye
Fearful of their uniformed presence
How long will they be held at bay?
I hold their preconceptions hostage
They cannot see beyond their script
Trained in the warfare of ignorance
They say "who are you, to question our authority?"
I answer
"I am the poet
The one who dreams beyond here and now
My words push through yesterday like a plow!
Yet I am gentle like the rain
Equal parts of pleasure and pain
A powerful detergent
I remove ancient stains
With my words I shake the ground
I will not be stopped by another's sound
Arrest me, yet you can't stop what I think
Within my mind I determine what I drink."
The thought police
Turn to another
The writings of our sisters and brothers
They wait, with cuffs in hand
Unable to understand
The few
The many
Who have joined hands
The poets
The thinkers
We take a stand
Inspired by Eileen Ghali's poem "The Hidden Woman"
Catie Lindsay's Heart of the matter contest.
O glorious Autumn of melancholic
Gold -
All abouts the brightly lit
Woodlands
Your wonderful artistry behold!
Tinted bronzes,
Darting between awkward firs
Of sobering Evergreen,
Loiter inside mauve havens
Splashed with palest yellows -
And dappled with many differing
Limes
Throughout this variegated Theme;
A myriad of rustling contentment,
Sweetest contrasting charms,
Complimentary...
Softly whispering leafy hues...
Hushed...most elegantly serene.
Bursting into the swelling copses
And invading between the
Dwindling fields:
Auburn, primrose and lilac views -
Abundant with seasons
Celebrations
That so magnificently infuse!
Glowering in simmering sunset,
And spluttering in misty dawn:
Afire with all the orbs oozing
Revelry,
That upon barkened furniture,
To thus gild - and resplendently
Adorn!
Now is the time
That dry tinkling leaves
Give musical resonance
To a breath exhaled from
A breeze...
Fanning the boughs roaring flames
That each out-stretched branch
does eagerly seize,
Fired from the eternal torch
That immortal Ceridwen tirelessly
Sought;
Whilst I hang upon evocative
Memories
That this arresting moment briefly
Caught.
Blazing with a consummate passion
Ignited from a poets grappling
Thoughts:
The Muses to this joyous splendour
Were summarily summoned
And brought;
But as elusive as the enchanting
Notes
From the intoxicating pipes of
Evasive Pan...
So as elusive the words of the
Unwritten verse
That so evade this singular man.
So burn! You gaily painted colours,
Within abandoned restrain,
Your dizzying carousel
A whirling kaleidoscope
Upon an artists ever changing frame.
Soft ochres and dappled browns
Mixed with vivid orange and crimson
Red...
Applied lavishly from the palette
Of Artemis
Over which the vibrant pastes
Are thinly spread.
A riot of pastel shades
All exploding forth -
With the raging power of a
Supernova
Of an immense, dazzling force!
All hail to the almighty:
From the devout to the Divine...
And all hail to the Grandeur
And Majesty -
Of his awe-inspiring design!
Malevolent imploded uncontrollably,
twisting wildly maniacal posies
amid diabolically toasted brainstem,
angst uncompromisingly yanked tresses
purging stinging speech patterned rhymes
amuck iniquitous poetic verses hung
upside down to tormentingly dry,
facing other inimically knotted borders of
antagonistic galleries in deranged snapshots
razing warped poetical tapestries,
tripping on tunes of whiskey rushes' savoy truffles
and greenish tangerines whilst Led Zeppelin's
Sick Again danced upon reflective ceiling tiles,
time written sideways 'round alleged autonomy
hidden furthermost immune masked mirror images,
debauching Greek braille calligraphy's vindication
on walls of graffito scripted physicality
calling out 'tween hysterical compulsions,
naught one heeded the sounds of synapses
about ill-fated half moon's arresting arc,
synthetic doomsday's clocks aptly chimed
quarter to analytical cuckoo's nest repudiation,
still awaiting on serendipity to surrender
furthermost rabbit hole's curiouser rants,
relinquishing unwell-languaged compilations' sabotage - -
circumventing rhythmically subversive escaped detonation
She is silent & she plays
Mostly she has books before her face
She rarely come to me
& ran away as fast as she could
I know her since her childhood
She is my Lil girl
& I'm an old mirror of her room
One day she came to me
Having beautiful smile
& gleaming eyes
Singing romantic songs & flying
As if she isn't watching mirror
Like she is playing lead role in her favorite fairy tale
I felt her crazy & myself amazed
'cause I realized
My Lil girl who is actually shy
Fall in love with a guy
One day she came to me
With wetty eyes, throat filled
Uninterested in everything
Ist time focusing her face & thinking
As if she isn't watching a mirror
Like she is a cop beating herself, arresting someoneelse
I felt sad & she was depressed
Then I realized
My Lil girl, so lovely
Failed & Fooled in love, badly
One day she came to me
Pushed her eyebrows up
Brought leader's smile on her face
One hand up & delicately waved
As if she isn't watching a mirror
Like she is addressing the whole world through me
I felt proud, she looks great
& finally I realized
My Lil girl unknowingly
Just growing up slowly... &...slowly
I see their intentions,
In their trances of manipulation,
Mind-warping affection, they laid upon you,
And knowingly you feed on what I thought you were absorbing…
You lash out at me screaming, saying,
“Rest your distrustful inflicting,
Look me in the eye, accept me, and free me!
I will consume their darkness in a bleeding light,
Whilst juggling in the enigmas you cramp me in!
You wonder why I welcome all,
As danger tickles my curves, arresting your nerves
You most sacred, superstitious little butterfly
Cease your incessant, mocking lectures
Flapping your wings at me in a colorful warning
Yes, I know you have seen it all you perfectly transformed worm!
I know what you know even though you think I do not know it!
Your metamorphosis of completion is impressive, yes,
Yet in your expectations, you ignore the fact that I am shapeless,
Stepping into the open air to confront change with all of its surprises.”
My multihued resolve silenced her…
“I hear you! I hear you oh so clear,
You innocent, raw little worm of a girl…
So I shall allow, just know:
My mighty wings are here to shade you, not smother you
As your guardian, I will trust with sting
Swearing on my every heartbeat,
I will protect you as you engorge on the thorns you call beauty
I will lift you from the brushes to let you peek at the hungry birds,
And you will plead for me to shield you once more
Though when I do not, and the birds dive down to consume you,
In fear, in haste, you will sprout your magnificent wings,
You will call out my name,
And in tears I will watch you fly far above them all!”
For Justin Bordner's contest, "The Instincts of Innocence"
Why don’t you come now
To the plot of blue river shore
Where we would
In an intense chocolate mood
Sit in a sun rise satisfaction
On the grainy sand
And create pearl drops of time
From the rhymes of waves
With the vibrancy we behaved
Exchanging those fine chimes
From our moonbeam dialectics
And converging synthesis
Of our hilltop thoughts and marine activities
After a diamond quest
Like the river
Or inside the river too?
How wonderfully we regressed and progressed
Making those radiant rings of time
Sometime winged
Sometime pink tinged
Time is bland and monochrome
Unless from your chromosome
You paint it like Van Gogh
Arresting the wayward clock
During which
Regardless of Greenwich
Taking colours from our river-wave flowers
Taking flavours from our cellular tremors
Taking sounds from our nascent heart pounds
Yours and mine
In our proximity alkaline
Would paint the wavelets
In the cups and plates
Opening the normally closed gates
Of sweet sweats
From each pore
And millions of such pores
From smiling to laughing in a petrichor
Unlocking the thousand doors
Of a colour continuum
From San Francisco to Baltimore
As we exchange our breath
From our deepening cores
Raising a rivulet
In the blue pigeon’s breast
And the bulbul’s beautiful crest
A supreme rest
In a purple tumult
Shadows lengthen in ecstasy
As sessions come to a termination
(No termination is possible though
What happens is a slow transformation
Of one melody to another music
Speeches flowing into lyrics
The sounds into stillness mystic)
So therefore
Bringing to the fore
From the amalgamated core
A flower of fusion
Pure and fresh
Out of the flood
No mire or mud
Looking at us conveying greetings
We look too
And from the meeting
A poem is born
Why don’t you come any more
Very often I look through the eye hole
Of my expectant door
The wishes naturally soar
In case I may see you coming
Dulcet sounds your feet strumming
But it’s all mist
I almost don’t exist
I miss the oasis
Of the cleansing catharsis
_____________________________________
19 May, 2017
For the Contest sponsored by Neyda Ivette Negron
"The Price of Pearls"
a strange time
just as a dream
to a place of strangeness
strangers
walking contretemps' fine lines
composing invisible footprints
away from life
into the loud silence within
The Chronicles of The Forgotten
lost in the mists
oars plunging grave tomes in
The Tombs of Sad Poetry
some gently fierce
soft grey broken bad blue sky
reflected in a lake of tears
a sense of haunting
romance to allay
impending fears
acknowledging minds
for a short while
dipping deep within
the short measured
confronting uncomfortable
pools of sincere welcomes some sin
playing the forgotten
heart strings
light sensitive fingers pluck violins
reeling in the pleasure
swoon swimming the skinny time
with cool investiture
the Siren sings
dropping chords
divesting smiles, a serious business
arresting life, love and lust
sensual eyes read his
for good measure
where diaphanous
pages drop like
silken Selkie skin
naked she swims
to shore clutching
a fistful of pearls
wisdom comes
at the price of
freedom
lost in the depths
of drowning
all the ghosts
dead
reborn
in his eyes, they are
Her glistening
new Ocean
now her feet planted on the sure
Now the Lark Ascending
She opens the
locked door
symphonic pleasure
maestro is
leading
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Rachmaninov: "The Isle of the Dead"
Symphonic Poem Op. 29 - Andrew Davis
https://youtu.be/dbbtmskCRUY
Vaughan Williams: "The Lark Ascending"
https://youtu.be/ZR2JlDnT2l8
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selkie
Virtues of reverent past no longer rhyme
With sense of now rushing through time
As troubled voice shudders in forlorn sigh
While remnants of yore earnestly decry
Vigor of life passing by, smiles gone awry,
Powerless to console tribulations of outcry.
Bankrupt of morality, of goodwill sublime,
Arresting freedoms, restricting path of life,
Streets and communities riddled in crime,
Echo bawl of grief, wailing indignance rife,
Imposed on tranquility perturbed in strife,
Since bells, benevolent, ceased to chime.
Sadness and anguish relentlessly bemoan
In solitude of feelings ~ impassive, all alone,
Dwelling in remorse, as memories replay
Friendships and kinships now gone astray;
Searching explanation, struggling to cope,
Saying a prayer, longing blessings of hope.
February 10, 2023
Placed 1st: Acquaintance and Neighborhood Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Soto Poet
Pursue the pursed lips
Of woman with scarlet heels
Intricate design of appeal
On rounded bodies sexily dressed
With naked treachery in their porcelain faces
Let me laugh away your harebrained actions
My dear, my dearest, fool of a man
Unlock your gaze from my arresting truth
Rising upon the pedestal on which I stand
For I am the ultimate
Source of your discourse
That occurs between the beast in your heart
And that angel in the looking glass
Violate my heart again and again
I’ll still smile
For karma is my best friend
The Asian community is scrutinized,
Blacks are killed and cuffed on the street.
You’ll order Pei-Wei and Big Bowl,
Then scope them out, target practice.
The very people arresting blacks,
They are protected by their acts.
But America doesn’t see a uniform,
They only see black and say wrong.
America is so resistant to change,
Failing to admit that their slogan’s fake.
America calls itself the land of the free,
The constant racism could have fooled me.
We can’t sleep in peace for Breonna,
For George Floyd, we got it right.
Justice is still so seldom served,
Living freely is what we deserve.
Sad to say,
it appears some days
the colors fade.
The bold and brave
red, white and blue caves
to lives given over to a multitude of graves.
The allegiance dies
while the inner heart cries
to question what is, what was our prize.
The political arena fails at every turn
while the constitution flames and burns
and Washington never seems to change or learn.
The people were once the voice
smothered by president and senates egotistic choice
as arresting of protester fail to alter the course.
An unsettling time rises once again
of disenchantment and contempt constrained
without resolve, message unheard though clear and plain.
Let the colors be bright and glow
deep blue with fifty white stars in rows
red and white wrapped in the democratic flow.
Max painted the blush-blue sky
the nest of grass and teal-still waters.
Bursting from his vibrant paintbrush,
a vision that appropriates the canvas.
His hubris angel halo-crowned,
the see-through wings - yellow, blue,
red and pink clipped by the frame.
The rosy countenance without eyes,
has a felicitous sunset glow.
The spiritual being wears
its huge, red heart like a necklace -
it is surrounded by sunny rays.
Attached to arms and shoulders -
seven buttercream blossoms,
cupped in navy blue.
The angel’s, likely hovering,
over the waters, as it
wears a striped and speckled gown,
no feet in sight.
I would like to call the angel a she,
as she is so dazzling,
but in God’s word, we only meet
Michael and Gabriel
and the devil, Lucifer.
Establishing a possible, he,
with broad shoulders,
beautiful beyond belief,
an arresting figure of peace.
A daily reminder
of the existence of life
beyond our realm,
I’m happy that this bright
and vigilant angel
crystallized on Max’s canvas.
7/3/2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice
Ekphrasis poem
Painting:
https://www.google.com/search?q=peter+max+angel+with+heart+original&rlz=1C9BKJA_enUS590US590&hl=en-US&prmd=sinv&sxsrf=ALiCzsY09GIT9k01Tu6a-aZCZg2M-QTylQ:1657063234783&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiA1OrL8eL4AhUOlWoFHW0XCmkQ_AUoAnoECAEQAg&biw=768&bih=905&dpr=2#imgrc=YisyiHjrFr4_9M
Listen to the forest in the depth
of one’s mind and craft
arresting soundscapes
from within.
Gaze into a spectral morning
dazzling anew and watch
those scales that slither
from one’s eyes,
Utter silken threads that pulse each vein
with choral church bells ascending
thru a literati conduit.
Wallow in the cascade of an oceanic blue
and cherish every vital sea green moment
Posted : 30th March 2022
January Sunrise
Arresting carnations through divulged eyes,
o'er bursting citrus stretching a punchbowl
--drapes prized quilt of January's Sunrise.
Underneath confident amorphous skies,
a year dawns, snowdrops grow in icy knoll.
Arresting carnations through divulged eyes,
fan a nippy faint frost neath earth's disguise,
since a chilled session saunters in its role
--drapes prized quilt of January's Sunrise.
Pomegranate seeds spur garnet to prize
as a crimson cardinal whorls midst troll.
Arresting carnations through divulged eyes,
as spacious house scores quiet time surprise.
Resolution course, move on and console
--drapes prized quilt of January's Sunrise.
View a sanguine sun slipping down edgewise,
month's shift gears, first of twelve, on cruise control.
Arresting carnations through divulged eyes,
--drapes prized quilt of January's Sunrise.
2020 July 02
*3rd Place*
Month of the year I like most
~Mohan Chutani
In the corridors of a muddled mind,
Within the condensation of a thick fog,
I often find,
A relapsed presence, a menopause
In life, an uncertainty
Of kind,
Where good and evil dined.
Poetry is the release for such a mind
For it abides,
Inside the realms of the unknown,
Hands you a key to reach,
Un-reckoned heights,
Ventures into twilight,
The beginning or end almost tangible,
The journey, virgin as a bride.
Ideas cascade vigilantly fast,
And sometimes in stone are cast,
You think your mind
Is playing tricks,
You hope the misty clouds above,
Will recommend,
And bring to an end,
This troubled mind,
One of a kind,
The likes of which, no one will ever find.
A sudden darkness creeps ever close,
A demon like, vile haunting chill,
Steadfast in your spirit, soul
And mind,
It will not influence your will.
Let good and evil collide,
For you have finally
Chosen your side.
The unwanted solitude that was once
Yours, arresting the normal start, if
Theirs such a thing, of every day
You have sent to its dreary grave,
The winning post was always
Within your sight,
But you took time to
Understand your blight,
For blinded by the terror of being
Lost in the corridors of a muddled mind,
Your rightful route you
Could not find,
Bravely, you did not waver and have
Proved, you are, one of a kind.