Best Bleared Poems
It snowed lightly last night.
I venture into the woods,
hear the silence reigning supreme.
Mutely a light breeze weaved its way
amongst the moss-covered trunks,
the high branches swinging serenely,
the verdant leaves of evergreen trees.
Occasionally a snowflake fluttered down
onto the white path that winded its way
across the solitary forest.
I felt peace in silence
despite the cold that griped
my arthritic old bones.
A few tears of happiness bleared from my sight.
The mist lifted like a silken veil,
all around shone in utter splendor:
a masterpiece of an ethereal painting
of some great master of olden times.
I felt your presence everywhere, O Lord,
I was exhilarated as a bird on the wing,
elated and consoled in utter harmony
with nature's song of praise,
a heavenly sigh to its Creator.
elysian
adorned with faultless time-dream
bits of insight
trigger dim emotions
memory gives warmness
spooky how light needs
haziness to thrive
drew me away from
odyssey I cling to
Inner peace exists in the sky
awaken the sun
egg-yellow in tone
In the midst of
oceanic aurora with blue shells
Half bleared-eye
embraced in soul stance
of shrewdness
as though prevail
intertwined
In a vast ocean of you
forgotten rootless
cast to the verge
we each
without lacking land
Written: June 24, 2022
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Heart felt love from long ago.
Sweet touch,
Soft whispers,
With love to grow.
Life journeys and chosen paths.
I stood alone to face the wrath.
Bleared eyed and torn apart
A joke, a fool, a broken heart.
He found in time to waltz back in.
To tease a love,
That once had been.
Here I am,
With out reached arms.
His voice so close,
Yet far apart.
I gave my love....I gave my heart.
Sleepless nights to face alone.
A tender heart to turn to stone.
As silence grows,
A fevered pitch,
A fractured soul, a satin stitch.
Where's my true love,
The love of my life?
A rescue of a lonely heart,
An endless road to only strife.
I've paid the price and now I pray;
Please fix my heart
So love will stay.
The love I gave was not pretend.
Wrap me in your wings,
So I might mend.
My eyes, my mind, they are so sad,
My heart, my soul...it hurts so bad.
Please God...I pray to turn the tide
To find my love and so abide.
At nine-seventeen p.m, my whole world stopped.
Distincely I remember this because
through tear-bleared eyes, I saw the numbers
lit in green -
9:17 -
on the face of my microwave next to the door.
Next to that same door
through which you exited
so hastily,
so heartlessly,
so unexpectedly
with not even a kiss good-bye. . .
though I guess that would have made it even worse.
I’d rather think of our last kiss
as we lay at night in bed
when I believed you cared,
when unbridled passion
and bliss
still ruled my heart.
Years pass, and I’ve not found
another man to take the place of you.
Once in a great while, late at night,
I go into my kitchen, perhaps to brew some tea,
and on the microwave
those numbers from the day you left
assault my eyes,
lit in green -
9:17 -
be cursed!
The last time someone I cared for
shut me out this quickly and this much,
was the last time they closed that door,
leaving me aught but the broken handle to clutch.
They say I shouldn't feel this way in two weeks,
should not yet get this hurt;
I wish so, but solace my heart seeks,
when one so open turns so curt.
It's been raining these few days,
which always suits me just fine.
It fits being lost in this maze
of worries and doubts of mine.
The dreaded Friday the 13th comes by
and brings with it the cliff I feared,
the vague ending I always decry,
the goodbye with no answers, ardor bleared.
It's by no means the end of my world,
indeed just an example of how it's always been.
So back to that road I am freshly hurled,
tonight sighing once again.
Enticing skies course to dim as summer’s florescence gives way to winters tint.
Eyes dry up as rain takes its course and somehow my heart still travels its current remorse.
My naked arms betray my might; there empty space remains reaching for you.
The weeping dust as thick as fur as nothing shifts, just consumes the flying moths about your room.
My solitude pushes my strength to the ground until in my head your voice resounds.
Dreams come like visions as I wake, too loud like the television you bleared so loud.
A crisp can be heard dropping on carpet that makes no crunch, yet in the swamp of silence small sounds become tall.
Pictures remain splattering the walls but fingerprints fade, as I will to you.
Through memories, I’ll be a face, an un-known the future will replace.
My gentle song and silent whispers will be the joy of another who answers you wishes.
As days turn to years and fly so fast, my son to me they will be like minutes that drag on and on.
My precious boy who held such short time in my sight, will last an eternity in my memories and I shall still hug you in my sleep and I shall still sing there and when I wake you will again be a shadow of loss from my past.
But in heart, I can keep you.
In soul, I can still hold you.
And forever I can love you,
My Son.
May succulent grass upon buds of June
I walked alongside you September arrived in you October,
it began in December and ended in January
I slept in February woke up in March and danced in April
July lingered in August leaving out December
The weekdays bleared Sunday struck the last Saturday followed by Monday...
I walked naked my feet alongside the earth my hands weakened by Tuesday and yet I still dance this weekend by the sun-drenched fire fly’s
Wednesday seemed to lust Thursdays by Friday I appeared to walk alone.
Last dampish autumn
For a stormy, light sea prowls
betrayed by the stone
macrocosm Down, down, downwards into the darkness of the carnal mind forget the adult light sea prowls
Misty,
dense
Clouding,
skein,
sewing
murky
but
Daze