Best Barricading Poems
Dragon Anguish
Adam clenched his fists attempting to block his senses
from the growing growls that hammered against his rib cage.
The thousands of millenniums he had lived barricading his heart
from all worldly emotions.
Adam looked up at the daunting sky to flaunting dark clouds
creep overhead. He breathed in the sweetest aroma of petrichor.
Thunder grumbled breaking the silence in the coldness,
as strikes of white lightning flashed across the night sky.
He couldn't stop the desire to shift into a dragon and fly.
To feel the wind beneath him again, to stretch his wings
and weave between the clouds and roar.
Adrienne, his beloved was a mortal.
She was a lovely lithe blossom that he had vowed to protect.
Her smile would inspire leaves turn green
and flowers bloom and burst into color.
Her eyes were the color of the forest that would shimmer
like the night sky with a thousand stars.
She had a riot of long burnt umber hair
that cascaded down her slender back.
His memory's grip, craving her, again and again.
Kisses that engulfed and would open the doors of heaven.
Releasing a fiery passion within him engulfing his world.
When Adam had been gone hunting for food for several days.
Men from another clan came down from the hills
pillaged and burned the village, not a soul had been left alive.
He raised his head and gazed into the night,
never again would he unlock his soul.
Adam shifted and jumped as he spread his leathery wings
and flew in the cover of the night sky and the clap of thunder.
10/13/2018
Poetry Contest: Fiction - October 2018 Writing Challenge
Sponsored by: Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings
Books are portal like door,
Which takes me to the ocean and centuries to centuries,
I become tired,
The books tell me that I am not alone, They are in my heart.
But my mother believes that
It is not okay for girls reading too much,
The books that my father had locked whisper in my ears,
Their address is in a clear glass cupboard.
I look at animated covers and mysterious titles,
But I have no permission to touch them,
My mind ran again and again with all the forbidden words, poems, stories and novels,
Like all other people, I want to take shower into that knowledge sea.
Why are girls barricading to read?
I have too much questions in my generous mind,
Free thinking fills the velocity of the storm,
I throw myself away, all the fumes left in the mind.
I write an invisible book in my open mind, ,
There I am the villain, I am the hero,
I'll win everything in the universe,
I want to be a woman sage of wisdom.
My nerve cells are ceasing my thoughts
My breath is barricading my life
My limbs are trembling
My heart is hovering in fear
Oh mommy! I am being victimized by me.
The earth is sinking under me
The sky is falling over my head
The compressive strength of my bones is diminishing day by day
The muscularity of my body is dwindling night and day
Oh mommy! I am being killed by me.
I am a coward lying lifeless among the lively fears
I am a yellow belly scared of the bright orange sun
I am a namby pamby soul shivering under the blanket of cold winter night
I am a fraidy cat snuggling in the sleeping bag of life
Oh mommy! I am being slaughtered by me.
Drag me away from this dangerous dragon
Get me out of these pinching hours of darkness
Hold me tight and embrace me in your arms
Give me solace and help me revive my true being.
I want to smile
I want to sing
I want to jump
I want to shout
I want to breathe
I want to live
Oh mommy! I want my life back.
fallen leaves peppers
barricading passages
in across the grounds
leaves spiral pin wheel fly round
children's delight performance
11/13/2022
WHITE SHADOW
-------------------
Cornered in opalescence
No walls to be found
The abyss its residence
The address unknown
Its countenance clear
As frozen solid stone
Collaged in aqueous blue
Painted misty gray
Its irridescence seen
But presence unseen
Epitomizes the trace
Of a fallible illusion
Portray as fumes of
Charcoal colored flames
Steams of vaporous smoke
Swim the swarms of air
Bounding deep its breaths
Breaded by the blare
Of pugnacious myriads of pawns
Barricading the breeze
As brooms' brushes to dust
Swept in swift and soft
Reversal rhythmic rush
Pieces' plethoras ensnared
By touching tips of the hay
Collected quick, no care
Absent a tic's delay
A patent feather has found
Its primmest of places
As paupers planted in pits
In primes of penurious spaces
This putrid particle puffs
Within subsisting liquid
As pints of pluvial drops
Descend devoid of sound
Upon the grazes of glitch
Within the greenest of grasses
A flood of footsteps fringe
Upon the ears of deafened ground
Each heels howls its horns
But gravel hears no sound
Ignites the morning spark
As gently candle lit flames
A sightless, sceneless spurt
Illumined just the same
~Poetra Jah~
I’m too tired to tell another story
About the pangs of reality
of my barricading delusions
and my spontaneous God given days
A long wait ;A fat fate
A nine day wonder that forever lay in yonder.
I’m bled out of verve ;high on adrenalin
I hated narcissism ,ignored individualism.
Am losing my creed hard as it seems,
No need for innuendos and cover ups
No gimmickry no false flags
I believe in theocracy,oneness of the most high.
I have been punched and bruised
Dead beaten and Ill stricken.
I've been a witness to sordid days
Happy years and bonfire nights
I once asked Santa for maiden
He told me " dude lets be serious"
I won't even bother Cupid
That naked winged baby wielding weapons
who even crowned him an angel ?
I've breached the rules
Threshed on everything with a head full of pain
Tried singing when broken
Only to realise my voice is even worse than my problems
In my fantasies I probed for honesty ,
Paraded with veracity.
But bliss is not a thing life guarantees
And I know this is how life in its entirety goes.
My imaginings are wilder,
Might soon catch a banshee
My nostalgias are inconsistent ,
And My health is really getting better
Will someday soon sky dive in Ghana
Or yet still rally on the Savannah
I sought levity in the midst of debacles
Only to find fury in endless spirals.
I stumbled on a prose
Lo! let me sip on its sweetened repose.
In my hands a pen a paper
so I can write away my woes.
recite it like a rhapsody or sing it like a hymn
As a form of consolation,An escape from reality.
I have stopped dreaming about the dilapidating person,
And began to open the vital eyes of the forlorn reality,
Yet, if you observe the time’s dimension in milliseconds
Then you would realise the existence of dark shadows,
Lurking to fish ancient chaste villages for Today’s Special*,
Headlines switching from the wasteland to the desert,
As if a show screening for the mindless masses of meat**,
No sense of life!
And copious shadows still hunt puppets out of souls.
I have stopped dreaming about the pristine person
As I observed the wilderness in the city of Deer AlZoor,
Smiles did flourish in the small villages along the river,
Until the putrid puppets placed their powerful*** hands
On the soon-to-disappear persons of joy and glory,
The puppet’s contaminated minds removing all hope,
A move towards ethnic cleansing was just the start,
No sense of life!
And the shadows plan on barricading the city of Dar’a.
Sunday, 28th of September 2014
* metaphor for trying to find new ways to kill people
** consonance alliteration 'm' and meat is a metaphor for persons
*** consonance alliteration 'p'
and there are many more :P
My disability builds high brick walls
Barricading the bright parts of my brain
My disability holds the inner woman hostage
While the little girl is left to run
My disability sets fire to my fears
Flames of anger and jealousy consume me
My disability prevents me from living on my own
With the white picket fence and family dog
My disability makes it impossible to love
A boyfriend or husband in my adult life
My disability reduces my dreams to rubble
With the remains of my self esteem
My disability leaves strangers around me
Confused and scared
My disability leaves my family
Asking why I don’t smile and laugh
My disability is a shovel digging in the dirt
Happiness trys to climb out of the holes
I am disabled…hear me roar
Reheated road
Reheated road retired by moving pandemonium,
Altercating, bitching, clamoring and demanding
sluggishly set forward
Birds and flies dispersed towards different directions
Their infuriate cry overspread the moving commotion
Against the riot the power standing
highly fortified, uniformed with stars
Attentively antagonized, barricading with iron bars
behind the fuming
Uproar reached closer
and disagreement sparking
Bottles, stones, whatever touching hands took wings
High torn and overfilled emotions animated
in place of confirmation, coordination, and correlation
flushing water, smoky gas and rubber bullets
find way to reach a peaceful solution
tears, vain juice and screaming
flowed without win nobody
Road reheated seeking solution treatment!
Jayaratne Weerakkody
I listen because Sound is not dead, but living.
I listen because I hear life through a variety of sounds. Sounds shout, cry, sing, soothe, provoke, and sometimes even pause.
I don’t listen when sound is compromised, influenced, beaten, killed (to crush silence), overwhelming or even artificial. Sound is meant to be pure; it is meant to be thoughtless.
I listen to sounds that are powerful, but are inherently ignored.
I listen for those who don’t know how to listen. I listen for those who were taught to take pride in their work, that they forget to leave time to take pride in their world. Sound speaks to everybody, but very few listen. We are told to focus; focus on our work, ourselves, and on others. We are distracted by this ambient truth.
I listen to sounds in silence.
I listen because of Mother Nature’s cooing, soft sounds guiding my mind to wander and to be set free. Her pure, natural voice is a comfort for all those who take the time to listen. She is the creator of all natural sounds, residing in every living thing. She whispers and yells; she cries and laughs; she never stops speaking. Mother nature is found is silence.
I listen to sounds that are unaffected by us; the sound of an infant’s heartbeat; the sound of a mourning dove’s song; the sound of a river rushing. Pure sounds are everywhere, but are clouded by us.
I listen, but not always succeed. I am conquered by the artificial, industrial world. My mind is blurred by construction, the radio, buzzing lights, television, and all things that are fabricated by us. It is unnaturally natural to do so, and we can’t take the whole blame. The world has been transitioned into artificial headphones, muting the natural world, and barricading our ears. However, if we detach ourselves, we can listen, listen to pure sounds.
I listen because I heard the truth, and the truth has spoken to me.
Because sounds never stop; they never stop crying; they never stop laughing; they never stop speaking.
Sound will never die.
Human lives are so sporadic
Especially when you're an addict
Addicted to spitting blood straight through the static
The days are so emphatic
The nights are so erratic
Keep an eye over your shoulder 'cause nothings automatic
The story's so enigmatic
A brief moment you're ecstatic
The next, you're barricading yourself up in the attic
'Cause the pain you feel is too charismatic
And the life you live is too problematic
But just live for tomorrow 'cause human lives are so sporadic
What’s lost can’t be found,
what’s old can’t be familiar.
Sincerity freely reeks-
crimson tears run down my cheeks.
Breathing became breathless and my lungs
became empty from the washing away of
my innocence.
Forevermore is gone-
never more will you forgive.
Leaving became restless as I pleaded in
remorse for things I said out of exasperation-
This whole mess is just a terrible fabrication.
I beg for atonement-
you became my opponent.
My Chartreuse laurels represent simplicity,
they are deep-rooted in compassion and virtue.
Believe me when I say I know I am not
blameless,
or shameless,
just penitential,
and consequential.
I need a sigh from you. You know I’d die for you.
I crave a fresh start
from you to my heart.
Free me from my misery as I count the ways
I could make it up to you-
This feeling of lamentation
brings no salvation.
I’ve needed healing since the first day of creation.
Please relieve me from this condemnation.
Barricading internally brings heartache you
wish to never reveal.
Saturating myself in grief brings my soul
to never feel.
Severity of this situation will never bring
alleviation.
Repentance freely reeks-
crimson tears run down my cheeks.
Fictional write
March 5, 2017
They Don't Know
As the dawn parades its certainty of luminous day,
They thought the day is the same,
They see the smiles of the birds,
Swirls of the sweet morning air,
But malice rapes and pollutes the harmony,
They thought they knew it,
The perfect days of their blindness,
The blurred reality of them,
To them, love house-baked perfection,
Split to that see how hurting it's,
A time you bet not to cry as you let go,
But it is a say easier said than passed,
Haunt of cabin you made,
Chew you, it sucks the strength you are barricading in,
And you find yourself crumbling in tears,
Let them say is over,
They don't know, the bairn of nostalgia coming after them,
Never say it's done before squeezing it all out,
Just tell them to know what you love,
Because you don't have time by your cup of tea,
They don't know! It is a pain of nostalgia.
Totems in the sky, they deaden the night
Barricading the stars, no sign of light
Clouds of grey, quickly bringing dismay
A message from above; will this be the day
I pray for the sun to chase them away
I beg them to leave, but they chose to stay
Moving sluggishly, so slowly, they terrify me
I’ve pondered their gloom, the pure mystery
What lies behind them, what lies within?
Do they carry iniquities, are they wrapped in our sin
They unease my soul; frighten me to the bone
Perhaps their true meaning will forever be unknown
Chiquita Baity
August 14, 2011
Contest Name Totems in the Darkening Sky
Sponsor Francine Roberts
I gently beckon inspiration
for dalliance with mother tongue
English Language, each
singular lettered manifestation
familiar to yours truly symbolized
by panoply, sans twenty six letters,
whereby this patient scrivener
luxuriates, when writer's block
yields sudden gush,
nee burst of creativity
dissolving impenetrable wall
mental log jammed impasse,
discourages literary ambitions
dashed exerted forcefulness
'pon cerebral terra incognita
counterproductive grip locks
figurative drawbridge begetting
utmost frustration allowing egress
and ingress constituting obstructed surge
temporarily disabling free and clear
transmission between damned fount
barricading abundant bajillion ideas
silent at loggerheads clangor and din
analogous between unswerving enemies
prepared to fight till the death,
exhausting mental energy expended
attempting armistice with futile results,
hence quixotic oft repeated
time tested metaphor
i.e. deliberate pressure foisted
upon seat of aging cerebral matter
inadvertently coloring fist sized organ
at least fifty shades of gray,
versus unexpurgated brainstorming
linkedin with unfettered restraint
breeds favorable prodigious ideas
jotted/ typed stream of consciousness fashion
modus operandi favorable to engender
receptive access, asper her excellent see
i.e. entrance untrammeled leeway
with minimal clash of opposing
titanic invisible entities
thus, aye abandon battering ram
to experience positive outcome
giving good n plenti profuse flood
unstoppable geyser spewing
plethora of appealing material
to arrange into cogent synchronicity!