Best Ash Gray Poems
Is Beethoven's ensemble fairer than nature's psalms?
Amidst a crowning sun: ears and eyes are drugged,
drenched with tender notes, orchestrated by greens,
inhale deep, the aromatic blossoms from the vine
with their lilting swell, brushed shades of fine wine.
Listen, listen to the sudden leap, the vibrato of bird song
or the raucous winds rubbing against house-corners
and the blithering brook carrying tales of who?
As you walk attuned to the crunch of the brown foliage.
When the cobalt skies turn to ash - gray mode,
hear heaven's vault lament, drizzling sobs to loud weeps
when day's face in angst pout or blush beside the beloved.
Feel your feet push or pull deluged by the liquid fingers
of the sea; in whites, they murmur ripples. They tremble
and stir, savor the flavor, a brief interlude:
Nature's power: tones, sharps, curls, pants. It slants
aiming to reach a rest upon blues of sky at its zenith,
The darting patterns curves, verves are diapered
wanting to delight, to wonder, to shock, to soothe.
I hear the low hum of gray
As it moves across the sky
Forming rain clouds up high
As rumbling chants gather to darken the day
Then a charcoal hue of thunder breaks the silence
Rattling all other colors in its presence
The sounds of tambourines play as raindrops fall
As drumbeats of platinum echo off the wall
Cymbals crash as silver raindrops increase
A melody that is sure to shatter the peace
As trombones join this symphony of grays
While ash gray sounds of thunder play "taps" upon the day
Down the old road a lantern turns ash-gray
bulb angled like pendulum
clinging on darkened sill.
With rainfall drowning the fragrance of trees,
my eyes grow weeds as light dims
on rake of brittle thoughts.
Through My Window Contest
18 Jan 14
from Franco Gonza
Undisturbed, in this single cell
Sketches of astral thoughts, can’t tell
Nor harvest a will to value its cost
Through spiral walls, winds are lost
Apparels of ash gray, inept sleeves
Strings mocking, like fallen leaves
Nor tears, nor sigh, nor laughter
Shall kiss thine eyes before and after
Decor in frames of blood and nails
Youthful attempts, to climb the scales
Only in company, of thy seven selves
Each liberated to write, on life’s shelves
How useful are the nights of thy grief
Dethrone a king, thus, burdens relief
Discarding fragments of past, once dread
Upon stone and mortar, I rest my head
Hath freedom and shame pierced thy side?
Bezaleel,”Shall the souls of lovers,ever collide?”
Would architectural tears, ocean my solemn wish?
Thus, in light of thine covenant, grant thee a kiss
DUST
Dust falls like snow, so cold
Sneaks its secrets under beds
Dyes old men and old lady heads
Covers long ago legends and lore
Dust in her eyes, behind pennies
Dust below his grieving feet
Collecting dust in urns
Wiping windows ashen streaked
Foreheads ash gray on Wednesday
In shape of a cross “remember you are dust,
And to dust you shall return”
Do you seek forgiveness or blindness in the dust?
Shaken dust flakes fall
Forever and ever
Felicitous and unencumbered
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
Anatomy of a curse
Let it be so
Let it come to your turn
These dark hallucinations of my mind
The hope that your lips burn
When you kiss some other
Your deepest hazel eyes to lose color
When you see it’s not me
Cry out loud in anguish
When you think of the love we made
Rashes ravage that flawless skin
With every touch that isn’t mine
Ash gray to your fleece of jet black hair
I wish it to be now
The same pallor of what you left behind
Since they no longer cascade over me
Let those nimble fingers never feel sensations
Those fingers that once entwined with mine
Slip from your palm every coin you ever hold
Know you how it is to be bereft of all you ever owned
Skip a thousand beats of that dead cold heart you carry
Every time my name is told
Ghouls and vampires call on you
In the dead of every night
When this world retires to its slumber
See how it feels to live
Your life six hundred feet under
How the full moon now shines but not for its purpose before
Those kisses we shared in its glow are ours no more
Walk to where you want, run so you can hide
I pray my memories hound you
Let them never leave your side
No church or temple to give you relief
Dance your ways with Satan
Go round and round and round
Such a lovely couple you’d make
Always room for some common ground
Rejoice in rebirth, I am fully woken
The spell you had cast is finally broken
Now live the way that I did
Have your remaining years be wasted
And let you languish through days and see
Then and only then
Will you discover, lover
The true meaning of the word misery
Burning snow falls quietly on
cold rusted wire and brittle bone.
An ancient creature looks to the horizon
feeling is body built of razor wire and old bones, cold,
a delicate tone transmits from on far...
Wraiths walking in the burning
snows depths, as it falls, it drifts...
In eyes buried burning bright,
across this delicate armature
of wire and bone skeletal hands clutch.
Bloody foot falls leaving no footprints,
upon the burning snow lies cinders of stars.
Transversing transcending reflecting
in a vast landscape of desolation.
While ash gray clouds drift
on oceans of spirits they race,
undulate flow to rhythms eternal.
In frustration and rage as brittle fingers trace,
each a wreckage of eons past
like broken fine china ruined
in department malls,
dead cars and neon bars.
Alone in shopping marts
eyes of the damned...
Faces blistering burning bright
listening to black concertos
in dead concert halls as eons fall.
Someone something ethereally framed
by elections runs glistening bright...
A silhouetted figure in distance thunderstorms,
lightning wreaths it fragile face
it walks among the ruins
the wreckage of rage
in ancient graves,
Insane dominions blaze...
A boney fingers trace
secretly a wooden oblong box
full of oblivion and infinite,
feel the burnt primordial clock,
a face still cracked bold but
keeps the time as death comes
as memory of all is lost.
As mortality is crucified
on wire and bone a thin
delicate in tone resonates in grace.
Walking still onward in the burning snow
feeling the drifting imagery,
cascading across its face,
an armature of wire and bone
walking forever in foot falls
of time as it falls apart sublime.
In the darkening cityscape
lightning filigree fragile and frets.
Alone on horizons distance edge
lingers an oblique and obsolete monstrosity
it drifts in the burning snow
forever alone in the forever more...
Once, there was a time when I wallowed in darkness
wading in the shallows of my flaws, I confess.
Shadows of hovering ravens were my only friends.
I was lost in time as stars died, but made amends
by untying myself from yesterdays to stop crying.
I stopped living in a morass as if I were dying.
Many who remain tethered to their past try hiding
but freedom will take flight in those hearts confiding.
There is a gentle wind that blows through a soul
leaving glittered traces of stardust to make it whole.
Whispers murmur to wings that brighten the gloom,
lifting the muddled veil of death so life can resume.
No longer do I cringe at the dreary thought of death
or gasping for air as if I were drawing my last breath.
One day I will fall as carrion, my body lying supine
and I become a banquet feast where many might dine.
If feathered creatures circle me in skies of ash gray,
who then will come to chase the hungry ravens away?
As August day darkens with sunset
There are always those
Who cannot let go of the summer
The sail of the boat on Torch Lake
First a yellow flame
To the match of last sunray
Now
With the hills extinguishing last light
Sail becomes ash gray of a hard rain
Dissolving to black night
No guiding lights
To save it from the innocent
A pirate ship of skull and bones
Held captive to the noose
Of the windless
The cannon of universe
Finishes it
Bombards the lake with falling stars.
At first, the purple sunshades hide where dreams cling,
the mind is distracted by how night's feeling,
it drifts along asleep on soft feathered wing.
Now, crimson blood spurts were shapes are annealing,
form re-appears, through razor sharp, edges and seams,
the self slowly stirs, to begin the healing.
Red ochre breaks through, streaming in bright light beams,
piercing the veil, as purpose begins to rise,
shaking the cinders to scatter ash-gray dreams.
Orange inflames the will behind shut eyes,
to rush right in, to show what it held on hold,
sending hot flames aloft, to lighten dark skies.
Yellow crowns the day-break with buttercup gold.
The mind and soul, now awake, can stand up bold!
Black roses and ash gray skies,
Warm winds and cool spring rain,
You held my hand and kissed me.
Hearts racing, you said you loved me.
Is it the fear talking or just me?
I'm scared of loving you, feeling
Way too damn much for you.
Save me, I feel like I'm falling away.
You pick me apart softly, slowly,
Like a flower being stripped
Of its petals, and you hold me close.
Kiss me, make me feel perfect again.
You're the closest to Heaven
I have ever been, be my
Corrupted angel and stay by me always.
Hold me, I don't want to be alone.
I'm greedy, but please
Don't hold it against me,
I've gone without for far too long.
Lost. Numb.
Empty.
Wandering aimlessly....
Lifting my eyes I see
A vast, parched, dead land,
And an ash gray sky.
Stopping, I hear
The howling wind, whistling a
Hollow, distant sound.
Bending, I feel
It stinging my bare skin.
My hair whipping my cheeks.
Looking up, I gaze
At stars appearing,
Winking, mocking.
The night is falling.
I turn my head and
Look behind me, hoping
Against hope to see
You.
I see nothing.
Something breaks and I start thawing....
So I sit down and
hug myself instead.
And berate myself for following my heart
When I should have followed my head.
Every season I think is my favorite
until autumn comes painting the trees
oh Autumn you are such delight
carpeting forests with colored leaves
Oh clouds who the sun do hide
the wind move's your cotton puffs
these such times our cherished days
where the weather's goes turning rough
Fading are the days whose warmth
will emerge to the rising chills
and trees undress their lofty boughs
standing naked upon barren hills
the colors of the fields are fading
the sky dawns with a dusky hue
the fledgling rain in it's delivery
stays the grasses wet with it's dew
You've redressed the bounds and landscapes
and the sunsets have started to blush
birthing all the rhythms in nature
and of seasons transforming their flush
The sunlight's zenith will be shedding
exchanged for the blankets and veils
where the finery of your mountain valleys
wear ash gray along with your dales
The cauldron of life's ever stirring
expression is cooked on it's range
the shades of the paintings dynamic
and it's canvas always subject to change
Like spices you alter the flavors
of the years ever changing their gown
where the fare you serve on times table
finds the trail to joy you lead down
all rights reserved
2017 Poetry of Providence
C. Michael Miller
Ecc 3:1 For everything there is a season,
and a time for every matter under heaven:
Cruelty wears a crown in a cloaked place,
cold-blooded grins behind mirrored faces.
Remorse walks the halls bartering tattle while I fracture.
They crowned me in shame, but
within a queen still rises.
They buried me in a fire of hell,
But like ash-gray smoke, I rise and swell.
I am the silence of the crown,
gone through ups and downs
stumbled in the dark multiple times
but my spirit still my heart and mind.
I am a teacher, a child, a guardian and a shadow behind my past.
But a strong woman who will still rise from the stillness of darkness.
Inside of me multiply like smoke and breathe:
into silence of forgiveness and hope.
Yes, still I rise, a whisper stitched in storm-
a sovereign spirit-fearless and warm.
The tortured self becomes the flame
not burned but lit beyond their shame
like the shimmering star, shining bright afar!
This is me, a version of being a woman in time and forever be!
Thru cracks in the clouds
whitish sun glints
No warmth issues forth
barren rock without flint
Clouds return ash-gray
no matter I squint
despondent sun keeps away
done, today's stint