Best Bellowing Poems
I was a planetary climatologist, who studied climate variability and change,
Like sweet variability of stunning, green tulips, in lavish garden rearranged.
Studying the said effects on the biosphere, absorbed so many daily hours,
Like industrious days of fragrant, amber honey, after tumbling into flowers.
My labors impacted energy usage, along with food production and health,
And the survival of endangered species, like golden rays of natural wealth.
Faddish flowers fascinated friends, who flattered them, at my broad fence,
Under fleecy, lemony clouds, fast moving, and orange sun, grown intense.
Famished, feasible family feasted, in lavish flowering fragrance of Fridays,
When fugitive, frosty stars flickered, winking at green garden bonsai trees.
I lived in the house of emerald echoes, in vivid memory of nature's sound,
From birdsong to crickets to evening wind, and brook of babbling renown.
Sachets swept away a sudden sadness, as robins sought another summer,
On my street of starry-eyed forget me nots, like a tune with no drummer.
Nobody knew latest neighborhood news, like my nearest friends next door,
Like chameleon sun, crisscrossing teal sky, wholly ignorant of 'nevermore.'
Pink birds were living high, and red butterflies viewed a world, ultraviolet;
And yellow bees went about their sweet labors, since queen bee desired it.
Strawberry clouds sailed around the world, for clouds ever love adventure,
As dogwoods barked in summer's dog days, during a gold noon surrender.
As I was walking home one day, the sun vanished as skies turned ominous.
There was a lightning flash just before the thunder, loud and cacophonous!
Suddenly, I saw a male face in the clouds, that was bellowing and enraged,
Like blizzard winds through naked trees, howling at a lush year that's aged.
Taken aback, like butterflies in gusts, I had come face to face with thunder-
The mighty, furious face of the storm, and I was filled with sudden wonder!
Then came the silver rains, sideways slanting, at the dead end of drought;
And I raced home like all uneasy nature, in the successive hours of doubt.
Scintillating sun had returned next day, after banishing the tangerine mist,
As benevolent nature was no more angry, its tale ending in an orange twist!
In wonderment I walk with the day
billows blowing
noticing not,
a beginning nor an end
lost in the mist of the rain
I pause at the crosswalks
filled with children
on their way
not knowing
life from a game
smiles yield,
flowery umbrellas holding
the rain
and a world at bay
glistened eyes overcome
and I see their mothers
dreams, heartfelt nights
tireless songs of glee
intrepidity
the will amid the worry
cars turning left
moving right
no wrong in sight
the beginning to an end
they're at their end
I see youth in their eyes
glazing over moments
years/tears
it's not the end
I greet them
noticing
all that beauty
bellowing
silently from within
And so it is…
When the trees don’t speak, barely a whisper in the wind,
Wet petals stuck motionless to the ground as if pinned
When there is no language to read in the sky,
Even with all the clouds passing by
And so it is…
When a bird must show you what is wrong
Bellowing out its loud bird song
Yet, to be grateful for…
After all, we cannot ask for more
When something isn’t heard, something else will replace it
When something isn’t seen, there’s all the more pieces to see fit
And so it is….
I hear, I hear, I see and feel for you
Everlasting feelings from my soul, reel with every view
And what I miss along the way
Does not matter in my heart today
tomorrow, or yesterday….
And so it is…
Heidi Sands
6/17/21
Placed among multiple 1st placements in All Yours (Jun17) Poetry Contest.
Sun golden shining warm upon the back speaks
wind cutting cold chills freezing thoughts held
captivating love standing a vigil faraway dream
Touching warm fingers of light in a deep blue painted sky
bewitching clouds gunbarrel grey shooting magic wishes
silver shading arrow points out into the softest peach charms spells
Everything spellbinding shines amazing beautiful enchanting
snow covered mountains cold winds howling and whistling tunes
bells in the distance calls you're the rock one clings to on Trawbrega's shores
Drawing behind the eyes wind bellowing whispers a blessing tides turn waves
inside joy burns one candle warmly flickering happiness butterflies dance
blue blazes to see the soul of a deeply treasured jewel forever sings
unrhymed tercet
submitted to Seth Pina's Horror Contest in '26
It started with one utterance
that grew into a shout.
That cry grew louder in his ear.
He could not get it out.
The bellowing prolonged itself,
and then one cry was two.
His frightened eyes searched faces on
the teeming avenue.
On the edge of reason then,
he gaped at strangers’ lips,
but mouths stayed shut and mocked the truth
of his apocalypse.
The cries that he was hearing came
a hundredfold or more,
a deafening cacophony,
an oceanic roar.
And nightmare revelations that
had brought this din in dreams
were now his actuality -
enwrapping him in screams.
The throng pressed on around a man
who crouched, with eyes half-dead.
And now inside a room he rocks
to screams inside his head.
Darkness Where Now Poe And Raven Reside,
(Part Two)
Song over, Poe told demon band to leave
And then pointed to the now empty stage
Wretched souls, look as thy lost spirit grieves
I present this new contest- all the rage
Blood and gore will flame your dark desires
Giving some respite from thy crying pleas
In dire conflict, comes death and fire
No weak romance, on love, birds and the bees
Suddenly cast there a hero alive!
In scant armor and flesh soaked in red blood
How this mere mortal had fought to survive
His legs covered in fresh, battlefield mud
Slow to rise, but so defiantly proud
His eyes gleaming with courage Heaven sent
Then yet another crash so very loud
From lightning, its power blasted and spent.
From that flash came a monstrous beast so great
With power from fangs and dagger-like claws
Dragon of massive scale, thick armor plate
Able to spew fire from massive jaws
At first glance it sighted the hero there
Bellowing out with its accursed breath
From thy flesh my claws will now rip and tear
Until that mortal body meets thy death.
Alas! Thy foul breath has no greater foe
Its effects are horrendous unto me...
Yet there is more than even you beast know-
Stronger are roots from my ancestral tree
Send forth thy evil, hottest flaming blast
As my great shield in its glory holds true
Thy fate, thy end has now came at long last
This brighter new dawn, shall be your end too!
Master Poe laughed with his booming voice
Stepping back, giving their battle more room
Announcing this is my gift, my first choice
Entertaining you, pleasure seeing sweet doom
This hero, with mercy I gave his shield
And his scant armor to give him a chance
Battling to the death, neither can yield
Here comes blood and guts, no feeble romance!
Robert J. Lindley, 4-30-2019
Dark Rhymes, ( As Raven And Poe Both Survive Below )
Part Two... Part Three to be written soon.
Syllables Per Line:
0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables:400
Total # Words:306
Come Dusk, Sol sinks into the pitch of Night,
till crickets drown out bellowing bullfrogs.
The sun bleeds, inking Night with blood-red light;
while woodpeckers drum on hollowed-out logs.
Splintered silhouettes silently conjoin;
flowing into ebon pools of twilight.
The sun gilds the moon, one side of the coin;
golden spheres, fueling life with their light.
Ebony cushions the whole universe,
encrusted with billions of twinkling gems.
Splendiferous pink-colored clouds disperse;
while flowers nod off, snoozing on their stems.
Tethered to time's imperceptible string,
we're somehow connected to everything.
These seasons which sing in silent symphonies,
like the hush of a new age,
like portals to pretence,
actualized to change itself;
The winter wind ---
he who loses his cool to birth of Spring,
and July in its hot, hazy adventures,
to Autumn and Indian Summer
are born many a poet,
with its myriad of romantic ink,
and misted-arbor parks;
When Apollo walks his most precious muse
and whispers for those who watch....
'Thy art, for you my gift'
the eolian sings unheard,
but for Wordsworth in his wood,
where we oft follow,
and Coleridge bellowing of its ministries...
All we have is that which seasons sing,
as a nightingale from Keat's tree,
and how Tennyson even became lost in its moss,
covered in dark, rain, snow...
where Maria waited the Lonely Wood....
but from a many colored pallet
we see where beauty lies,
how it bats her eyes in thy soul,
and a feeling of love follows,
for the snowcapped mountains,
and June-green forest,
waking with a galaxy of life,
Bursting upon the rocks....
the breakers in Dover hath held agape ---
the Saxon word-smiths of old,
and from many a pen we have answered,
living in our calendars,
and endless months,
(these seasons which sing in silent symphonies...)
Part Three of the Sixth poet honored
(Emily Dickinson) in famous poets dedication series
(3.)
From Weeping Tears, No Longer Shall Joy Find In Heart Anything
Creeping thick fog has dimmed my view of morn's resplendent lake
so dreary is life's sorrows, more than this sad soul can take
yet tomorrow promises mysteries that leap from the dark
tho' my life's worries have wrinkled my skin like Sycamore bark.
Night shall come, with its agonies crying to be unbound
as its bellowing howls screech out, horrendous gasping sounds
very soon midnight moon will swallow up my despondent soul
spitting it out as fragmented black-stained pieces of the whole!
God forbid! That from this nightmare I never dare to wake
to that of Life, dear sweet Love, I never again partake
and from morbid sunken state, my heart crumble and be no more
fallen into heaps of crushed bones, spilled blood and ghastly gore!
Woe! The epic pains such broken-heart images dare'st tonight bring
From weeping tears, no longer shall joy find in heart anything.
Robert J. Lindley, 2- 12-2019
Sonnet, ( The Sad Depths Of Sorrow's Deep Epic Pains)
dedicated to Emily Dickinson, poets dedication series..
(4.)
There's More To The Old Forest Than Its Ancient Trees
As years are peeled back, this gladden heart now truth sees
there's more to the old forest than its ancient trees
mystery in places, savagery in its nights
more than just imagination, it hides from sight!
Yet such does not negate its most beautiful gifts
its Autumn colors, songbirds notes that so uplifts
bounty of its harvests, peace it oft can instill
calm that one may find there, treasures that oft so thrill.
Tho' darkness lurks there deep and hides its evil ways
one can visit its truth, find self most any day
walk along its well worn trails and about life muse
all of its many wonders, in this dark world use!
As years are peeled back, this gladden heart now truth sees.
There's more to the old forest than its ancient trees.
Robert J. Lindley, 1- 18-2019
Sonnet, ( Amazing That This Dark World, Has Such Beauty In Its Forests)
dedicated to Emily Dickinson, in poet dedication series
Note:
(1.)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emily_Dickinson
(2.)
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/emily-dickinson
Flowing Deep, Those Ghastly Shards Of Regret
Flowing deep, those ghastly shards of regret
and the spasms they birth in weeping soul
no reprieve, caught in that sorrowful net
love's joyous flag no longer had its pole.
Moon was shining and sky was gleaming bright.
That fateful night, I was blind, without sight.
Never saw her again, I ran away
bare truth is, I knew she wanted much more
than a simple life, with simple man's pay
with her fast asleep, I ran out the door.
Moon was shining and sky was gleaming bright.
That fateful night, I was blind, without sight.
Putting distance in our path, out of state
I heard no cries, did not see how she bled
looking back, her love became bitter hate
my mistake seen, I wished to be dead.
Moon was shining and sky was gleaming bright.
That fateful night, I was blind, without sight.
Six years and a million miles I had fled
where sadder path my soul walked alone
yet see her well I could, in her silk bed
in sweet night dreams, we talked on the phone.
Moon was shining and sky was gleaming bright.
That fateful night, I was blind, without sight.
Courage came and I went to her hometown
to beg forgiveness for my youthful fear
I saw her again in her blue nightgown
I ran away, my eyes still wet with tears.
Moon was shining and sky was gleaming bright.
That fateful night, I was blind, without sight.
As moon's rays through my window hit my eyes
then I realized it was a bad dream
nobody could hear my bellowing cries
no, we would never again be a team.
Moon was shining and sky was gleaming bright.
That fateful night, I was blind, without sight.
10-08-2019
Rhyme,
Written for the contest, If Only We Could
Turn Back The Hands Of Time,
sponsor, Silent One
First place awarded
Standing tall
here I am
attune to the future
but grounded in the past
sturdy and strong
a constant all along
I hear that lovely song
the seasons have come one by one
blustery and boisterous
bellowing amid clouds of grey
and with the years
most now drift away
left alone to till, to toll, to toil
this soul's tested and soiled
rooted in goodness and grace
just waiting
for you and that happy face
leaves blow about in the wind
I breathe and take it all in
the beauty and what's about to begin
your back rests upon me
looking out trying to find
what's really growing within
a plume of a passionate mind
a trusting of kind tattooed
etched in the shape of a heart
unearthed with endless rings of meaning
holding on to a hope
that love was once
and will always be true
Along the mountain pine valley did the Iron Horse roar,
A steam belching black demon, burning red hot coals
Within it's steel belly.
Speed's hell bound creation, driven by greed's insatiable hunger,
Faster, faster it moves at acceleration rush, to
Achieve manifest destiny's final arrival on time.
In the distance hear another lone whistle blow, spitting,
And spewing with brimstone's gray smoke.
This indeed is the devil's train, carrying the forsaken,
To the depot of no return.
With a half empty payload aboard, Satan makes a deadly
Judgment call, stoke up those engines boys, ramming
Speed if you please.
Made man beasts are these mechanical monsters
Of destructions, lethal death weapons, chained
Down to the steel rails, and iron pikes.
Ebony stallion's racing against the winds,
As redden sparks sizzle and bite at the crisp autumn
Air, bellowing fumes poisoning the night.
The engineer of the 10; 15 out of Tombstone,
Checked his pocket watch, speaking impatiently,
He did so yell out, come along fellow's, we have a
Schedule to keep, and we've hours behind in our dead line,
So let’s pick up the pace.
Now the devil's train came out of know where,
With hell's supernatural master at the wheel,
Heckling, and laughing, relishing in the carnage’s
Utter calamity to come.
On a lone chewed up mangled piece of track,
Lies wreckages debris blood, flesh and twisted metal,
Lain stewned for miles beside the wild wilderness.
Broken bones, and sheared off limbs, weeping mother's
Cradling limp, lifeless bodies, crying why, God almighty
Why?
But the lord and heavenly father, had nothing to do,
With this unnatural disaster, nay the devil had many
Empty spaces to fill, and his passengers list was lean.
So he leveled the crimson ground with his dark gavel,
Taking souls at high velocities supernatural speed,
For this is the devil's ghost train, and it is so
Hell bound.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Would you pack up and run away with me if I were to ask you to today?
Would you throw aside all the past? The turbulence we shared? Would you forget the screaming matches and remember what we shared?
If I dream of this; is there a chance that it may come true? The answer is too much time has passed, and there’s nothing more to say or do (unhappy face).
But I keep on hanging on, like a worn out Diana Ross song. I blame you; bellowing ”you just keep me hanging on”.
It seems I fell victim to the powers of your kiss. I treated you badly I didn’t realize how much I’d miss.
In this case there are no victims, there are only volunteers, and it seems you too fell ‘victim’, still loving me after all of these years.
I’d like to say I am sorry, but this is a worn out tune. I do have regrets. I blame it all on me. As they say it takes two to tango I wish now that I could see.
But then how could I be sorry to have loved so passionately? I am the lucky one, that someone too loved me.
I still ask would you run away with me? Take me to the justice one more time for a quiet ceremony?
Walk with me through life as if this is something we ever knew how to do. Accept the others faults with no backdoor to escape through.
Grow old and gray together family at our side, the American dream they call it a wild, bumpy ride.
All of the latter is something we will likely never know, but the passion once shared will surely never go.
Its electrical magnetic charge is etched upon my heart. Those times when we were young and would just do ‘it’ anywhere, that heat that drew us like flames we didn't have a care.
I ask again, would you run away with me?! Run away with me now!!! there’s no time to make haste. Life really is short we mustn't let it waste.
My beauty fades fast my love, my lines have become deep, my desires they are waning. Still my love for you I keep.
Run away with me my sweetheart I promise I’ll be fair. I will love you to the ends of time, more than you can bare.
Run away even if you have to wait until the dark of night. Run away with me my love make everything alright.
I have no cause to lie,
my memory is clear.
The night was cool, the moon rising.
Fresh scents from a passing rain captures the air.
My campfire kept me warm from the damp forest,
its light reflecting dancing shadows.
I felt relaxed and calm, stress had fled,
from my world of constant work.
My coffee was now ready when I heard a branch snap,
off to my left'
The furious rustle of branches pierced my ears.
A strong musky stench filled the air, surrounding me.
My heart raced as I stared into the darkness,
trying to see what had came near my camp.
I was alone, fire my only defense, but from what?
A sound, a low bellowing sound,
cracked the foundations of my belief.
A beast nine feet tall appeared from the thick bush
and stood quietly still.
I had no where to run or hide.
The beast consumed the space in front of my eyes.
It walked towards me hands out, palms up.
I was confused,disoriented, frightened,
until I saw from the crackling flames,
porcupine quills.
The pain in its eyes burned into me, crying out for help.
I reached over and calmly pulled each one out,
lifting me eyes to its face each time.
It seems I heard a low rumble that sounded like relief.
This beast, this huge beast looked down on me.
The silence could have sliced through ice.
It suddenly turned and walked away.
leaving me trembling with a fire and shadows.
I slowly picked up my cup of coffee,
still looking into the bush, still frightened.
My legs stop quivering as I sat on a log,
next to my fire and smiled,
knowing no one would believe me.
4/16/15
Frederic Parker
Wandering the virtual
green fields of home,
I open the farmyard gate
fall into a haze of retrospect.
I see a “LMS Black Five” Locomotive
bellowing upon a utilized line,
ghostly sparks tantalizing
the embankment.
Below a paddock ploughed,
sown with scattered seed
to germinate this memory
of that time past.
I stroll the hoary lane
beneath a pale cold eve,
discover soft mist stirring
upon the low moor, in warps
of time, giving in to modernization.
Mile high bracken upon the Beacon
under a clementine moonlight,
in shadows drifting to and fro
like the tide upon the silken sea.
At the old cottage
in Sugar Hill,
I see a cut glass vase, sitting supreme
upon the polished surface
with rose, carnation and dahlias,
near by a collection of love
in all those wonderful bluebells
from Nesfield.
“In the old Jam Jar”
Entered 2022 Poetry Marathon mile 14 contest
Sponsor Mark Toney
13/9/2022