Best Avalanching Poems
Life greeted Death
with an epoch
from the depths of dusk
with a dawn,
the sun rose lucid
with it's soft spotted infant rose
now awake,
hanging heavily harnessed
in the steaming swaying sky,
the sun's aura
lit the sands of the silent Sahara
liked an aged ocean of butterscotch beauty,
and the starch strung clouds
maneuvored like vanilla lace
avalanching outward
kissing the hips of the woven horizon,
my sight probed to ponder
the powdered blue glow
of the desperate distance,
where the shadows
of the dune's palms
insult the posture
of the ivory sanctuary
that sat balanced for sake of Bethlahem,
I sat megerly meditating,
watching the subtle creases
in the Meditterraniean Sea absorb the sliced brass shingles
that weave the waters wealthy,
as the morning properly transcended Westward
manipulating nature's maturity
by rambling roughly to the seas
for wandering waves of bolted blooms of blue
for the twinkle of a jewel
which sits on a stool as a star
as far as North,
soon the violet velocity of night
approached the set,
electrifying the ending day,
and the Sister of the Sun
landed on the sky's chest
like a sheild on a knight,
as I listened lightly
the Moon politely announced,that evening is back to stack
the black symphony -
J.A.B.
Volcanoes can engulf the land
in avalanching lava blaze
entombing picturesque Pompeiis,
for Nature has the upper hand.
Tsunamis raze an earthly strand
disrupting lives that cling to breath
in e’er untimely mortal death,
for Nature has the upper hand.
Despite the undertakings planned,
a cataclysm’s fatal sweep
may chance on beings deep asleep,
for Nature has the upper hand.
Across the cosmic reaches grand
the heavens prove their vast command
where’er our telescopes have scanned,
for Nature has the upper hand.
We stamp our heady hubris brand
upon the beauteous terrain
which humans claim as their domain,
still Nature has the upper hand.
An instance in immenseness spanned
we’re but a bit of Nature and
regardless if we understand
Great Nature has the upper hand!
~ Harley White
A collaboration with my brother-in-law, Andrew Pennell (AJP)
The fiery rose is my blossoming love
God's love is like the fiery, passionate rose that I give you gratefully
My love is strong and mighty like a graceful knight
The fire on the scarlet rose is the strength of my love
The rose is the rock of the base that I hand to you as a beloved gift
You are my rock that supports me and you never crumble into sand
The redness of your cheeks - it blossoms so sweet, so eloquently, so lovely with wild passion.
You built me up with your avalanching grace and sacred wisdom
Our love keeps on scorching enthusiastically
Like a black and white checkered stallion by the name of Spirit of Delight
You brought us together like a complicated puzzle
Our bond is stronger than the finest steel on Earth
You enrapture me with your pure beauty,
glowing aflame with fire licks and fireworks
The fiery rose will be your bouquet of stars in no time
This time spent with each other eye to eye is simply sublime
Stars do sparkle bright when you walk and run by my side always and forever
You repaired my state of mind...
I'm astonished by your fantastic flight
God has concealed our love in a safe dwelling called Heavenly Haven
The Lord has preserved it like a rose,
burning intensely and gloriously in a glass globe
Emotions of incompatible severance ebb my spirits
Taking me into a world that no one has ever been
Upon nights of deplorable torment I see the unseen
Darkness wills me over and tears my heart away
As I feel the hot, sticky tears crawl down my face
Pressed against the scorching window I gaze into high heavens
Pain dispersing through and avalanching my tearful eyes
There’s a supernatural pressure pervading my soul
Nothing makes sense anymore…my poetry is dying!
The world in which I find myself is constantly fighting
With emotions unchangeable…horrible…plighting
I would kill them all to feel the one I shall never have
I would kill myself to make the oceans part again
Till then, let the pieces of me float gently in red waters
Flowing seams taking me through; eels eerily watching
Making me covet for action, to feel each satisfaction
I want the anything, impossible to grasp
My hands are hooves, I can barely hold you
I can’t get out of this world; can’t escape the blue
Zigzagged rhyming, bad timing…hating me
Just cutting me more and festering harboring the pain
The white blood cells are against me, blooming insanity
And like a dump the junk increases and sinks into holes
Sticky soil of dead corpses lifting the infection killing me
Not enough; I’m still here…black, bloodied flakes
I can’t hold on…my gory hooves are splintering in the coagulation
My mind's eye is murdering my soul…aching…raping
My head is still pressed against the window
My mood eyes are set on the sun’s hemorrhage
Piano fingers pressed on the crackling glass
We’re shattering in this world of mine…I’m dying!
What a world, what a world
I’m plunging down into the sea as the snake snout finds me
The eels welcome me as I sink into their homes
Snap! Snap! Silent snapping of the flesh! Hear it?
Lost in the brackish wetness of eternal sleep
Not even aware they are eating me…everything—
Save my heart; it’s still there…can you see?
It has fallen even deeper, settling on the bitter bottom seafloor
What a world, thumps the heart
See what my world did to me
Ode to Joyce J.
Would that I could write to her a magical verse
that she would enjoy for just an inkling of the spell
cast in the joy wherein I myself immerse,
when I drink in the drafts from her literary well.
Her poems ripple like flowers in the breeze,
cascading lovely and wild as you please,
avalanching down the hills around the trees
of life’s pain, reality and turbulent seas.
From As time goes on and the Twilight,
The Garden rose and Blackberry wild,
The folds of your Mama’s Apron
And your Vows to the lovely Christ child.
For these and so much more of your lovely self
you’ve shared with us ,
Thank you Joyce and God bless you forever.
Robert A. Dufresne
Speak softly to my weary heart,
'lest it's shattered pieces collapse,
avalanching itself,
to be buried in the depths of sorrow,
never again to be recovered.
Hold gently my withered self esteem,
if you can find it,
'lest it disinegrate to the touch,
to be blown to the four winds,
never again to be recovered.
And gaze not into my sorrowful eyes,
'lest the floodgates burst forth,
for once the tears begin,
the bright eyes will go out,
never again to be recovered.
But, listen closely to my mournful soul,
'lest the goodness be forgotten,
for it whispers of dreams forsaken,
quivering like a flame in the breeze,
in hopes to be recovered.
The torch is raised
To the height of an elbow
Its flame pronged
To the flicker of a pitchfork
The sunrise charges over a hill
For old man
Winter
And under this sun on March One
The eave troughs of our house
Still cling to the grip of winter
Growling silver fangs
And crying long tears
Resisting the pry of the flowering season
Finally succumbing
Plummeting
Through the sponge of snow
Below
To slip away forever
Into the streets steaming
Like opened rivers of fish leaping
Hooked on lines
While chunks of ice
Dislodge from corners outside the house
Avalanching
Loud as silverware drawers in the kitchen
Opening and banging shut
Makes you turn
Look
And wonder who is so angry and why
Downstairs
A boy
In a short-sleeved shirt
A stoned graveyard digger
At the end of my driveway
Uncovers the drain
And its copper coins buried from autumn
And with that iron resurrection
The afternoon is engulfed by a rush of waterfalls
From rooftops and balconies
Banks of snow
The whole cliff of the planet
Washing away
Cleaned to its streams and lakes
Some of us
Lift our feet
Before, we too, the worn and tired
Are swept away by this light of spring.
Her doubled chin jiggling,
Obnoxious, squeaky laughter. . .
I smile to make them feel good,
When I am bored in the recesses of my pulsating,
Consecrated, selfish noggin,
Crawling into their lives like wanted vermin,
LIKE IT’S PERFECTLY NORMAL TO BE THE COCKROACH. . .
Dispersing awkward, filthy wings to fly in the house of procrastination,
His butt squeezing as he lies on the floor around them . . .
I want to squeeze my way out of here and never look back. . .
The pillow beside us is there for thought,
Suffocation in that feathered mess. . .
I’m not violent like her. . .
The eyes are crazed,
Caked with eyeliner and crummy eye shadow—perfection in their eyes. . .
No. Unattainable. . .
Heart breakable. . .
Delving into rant after rant,
The seas of my being crash among the rocks of my peers,
Fleshy hands grabbing me from the dark crevices,
Where I once welcomed the crabs. . .
Oozing butter dripping from her mouth—
A disgusting paradise in a disgusting situation,
Avalanching the heavy distress all around me. . .
Do I WANT perfection?
I never really did question this. . .
Because their perfection is over-branded—
It has been long expired in my thoughts. . .
He threw at her the black of night
And then the fire of day
Roared as of a hurricane
With avalanching speed
She crackled as a lightning bolt
Within a thunderstorm
And then unleashed – in torrents
The cyclones of her wrath –
With violence they wrestled long
And raged the heaving seas
Hurled the stone of Sisyphus
At Scylla and Charybdis
And in the tempest, tooth and blood
Together bested love –
Clouds turn to waves
I feel so close to him
See our sameness
our Madness and I wonder
as I climb
an unmistakable chain
of events whether My path
a collective effort
an anxious loneliness
avalanching - yet, I want to run
from responsibilities
caresses, from guilt
and from ordinary gardens, I want
what is possible within the
impossible to feel safe within
the danger of understanding me And loving him
The moment she will
free herself
from time and body Mind over matter
No longer feeling exposed
while naked on the bed
No longer feeling the clock or worrying about Dinner
The moment she stops running
and starts having a heart
to get what she wants while existence never fails
and places rack and ruin
The comfort to avoid pleasure
and stand by the window’s
light, to hug the curtain’s warmth while clouts turn to clouds
and black to powder green
Avalanching in this benighted place.
Hollow noise like the roar of an angry bull.
Emotionally desolate, importune of answers.
Feeling castigated, in bleak. Veer not from me oh dear God.
Embedded in avalanche.
I bellow for luminosity.
Seeking comfort in coldness
Heart shattered, sighs echoing. Forgive me for my sins oh dear God.
Broached in a new world of wretchedness I never knew existed.
My visage turning into the seven seas.
Far offshore
As I ebb away with the tides. I fix my eyes onto you oh dear God.
A silent prayer,
Cloak my tribulations.
Let there be oblivion.
And this gloom a phase. Make me whole again oh dear God.
Gestation period
A grotesque routine
Queasiness
Excruciating. Give me strength oh dear God.
Avalanching in this benighted place.
Feeling castigated, in bleak.
Importune of answers.
Why me? Hear my cry oh dear God.