Best Blind Poems
There is a part of me missing
There is a part of me that shall never be
Inside of this dark sad brooding mind
Is the painter who will never see
So I take my pen, and vaso of wine
I contemplate
I get lost in the drunkenness of time
Stooped over my own memories on a sour palette
I had the brushes staring at the naked breast
My paints were frozen, at such beauties unrest
Erect and tall, at her feet I did fall
The blind painter, who lost it all
So now you see I am a poet of some seedy sort
Painting Braille, is poetry of my last resort
I write down words with the flourish of my pen
The Braille poet, cause painting I could not fend
I take words and wish them bountiful explosive colors
If only I had talent, a painter and not a story teller
So for me, in pain and clad in the cloth of sadness
I write words, for this painter has only Braille
I have no painting brushes
I possess no smile, wandering along on wistful miles
Of blindness, blowing in the winds of the frail
No map for the future, and yet I set sail
Hoping my words one day will be seen
By an artist who paints the soul and the serene
She takes my blindness and paints boldly my dreams
Taking my words, from Braille to bright pastel creams
"Blind Man Turns"
Rest easy in my lull, Love
Love
is not the gentle goodnight, Love
in the beguiling
silence of Lost Lovers' Woods
It is the war we
all wager
reflections
in each other
We run from it
We run to it
The Labyrinth
we all are
striding fresh
through greener than green grass
roads we never thought
we’d journey
futures like bruises
bruises like roses blooming
bruises like sunsets fading
War torn
We All are
the softer, truth seeking and
the fallen, sharp metal shards
Love runs harder
than war
Love runs towards
you with its arrows
Bleeding slowly
Bleeding fast
Love
Heads or
Tails
Hearts
saved
Heads
rolling
Tongues
dry for a pass
wanting wet
trysts for duelling
tails short and long
tales to be read
to the dreams
that once in the past
were futures
formed like a sprouting bean in the belly
from
Love
Falling free and hard
short lived butterflies
wings transparent
veined in vanity
are
the Brave
waiting for
the burn
Love
bleeds hot
bleeds fast
Poets kissing soft warm bellies
whispering breath over sensual hearts
where the hot
holy see parts
singing
“this will last”
The Golden Grail
shining
waiting
for you
door
open
without
chain mail
holds a heart
bled and worn
An offering on your short
spare alter
never entirely yours
but always mine
blind man turns
his heart ripe like an apple
open and
star seeded
Light Burns
waiting to be tasted
a swallowed soul
without feathers
born again
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
The blind man held his tin cup;
Bewildered was he as he felt
Slippery hands on his own
The cup getting heavy as he knelt.
A voice said “That’s the last of it.
All my pennies from 2001.
It’s now your very own property,
I want you to have some fun.”
The blind man’s eyes started flowing.
He didn’t want to take the child’s money,
He said “I can carve you a whistle,
Come tomorrow and we’ll play it, Sonny”.
Sonny came back on the morrow;
The blind man lived up to his word.
Together they played like snake charmers;
Soon by a producer were heard.
Their recordings are renown in the country,
But that’s not the important conclusion.
The blind man had a new son, and Sonny
Had a father to guide him through teen confusion.
Into blind rage he flew again
His neck veins bulged, his fists he closed
His wife could not remember when
She'd seen her man calm or composed
This time she screamed; she'd yelled out Stop!
Surprised and stunned, he lost his voice
Tempting fate, she'd ruled out cops
She prayed she'd made the wisest choice
His veins relaxed, his fists now hands
His voice returned, he told her thanks
She would not have to make demands
Resort to feline's cunning pranks
He managed to suppress his rage
Thanks to his wife, he turned the page
~ Iambic Tetrameter ~
I no longer search my memory
I no longer use my pride
I've loss the desire for liberty
I no longer speak for life
What I've said hundreds of times
I'll repeat no more
Time has had it's passage
and totaled up the score
Love has used it's powers
both human and Divine
untold endless hours
dedicating my creative mind
I've suffered the tears while writing
when injustice and love were fighting
Discribed the beauty I saw
with God's intentions totaled in awe
These are words of an empty shell
The mother of peril still shinning
pausing slowly here and there
with rhyming still providing
The old ghost it still lives
relationship more take than gives
imagined love unmasked as doubt
the weapon of fantasy I now live without
I created once a world to inspire
filled it full with realities desires
never once believing I was a liar
just another member of a silent chior
poetic eyes gone blind with time
loss of perceptions creative eye's
I now lie buried with a motor of rust
A poetic heart I no longer trust
… after Langston Hughes
You know how they do. They say that
we run, that we fit descriptions, but justice
ain’t blind, she just sees who she wants. Is
it any wonder we hold our breath? A
body ain’t a body when they label it a threat. Blind
fold her, watch her peek, call her a goddess.
Watch her drop the scales. Watch how balance is
a myth chased between our nana’s prayers and a
judge’s gavel. They got this thing
for claiming fear while standing over bodies. To
serve, to protect—who? Which
way to run when history's got a knee pressed upon the we
aried? Red light, blue light, a flash, a name gone black.
Mothers wailing thru the street. We are
n’t new to this. My father knew. And his father wise.
Still, she won’t look. Her
hands steady but the bandage
doesn’t stop her from peeking. It hides
but we see it slip. MLK's two
Americas on display. Wounds keep festering
and this country born of scars and sores
struts like a wayward siren. That
same scream, same prayer, same fear. Once
we thought time might change things. Perhaps
we were fools to hope. Seems we were.
Though standing here. Still, we look her in the eyes.
###
Blind panic
There was a warning came one day
It said disaster’s on its way
An old volcano in the distance
It could erupt in any instance
The molten ash came pouring out
As neighbouring village was in doubt
Folk were running to and fro
It seems they had nowhere to go.
Buildings were cracking one by one
Blocking out the golden sun
This thing did turn our day to night
As everyone was filled with fright
As the Earth did turn to lava
Many prayed to the holy father.
Vera Duggan 16 August 2014.
Is it the color of my skin that keeps you from being my lady friend?
Tell me my African American Queen; Maybe I just lack self-esteem.
I keep your pretty face in every dream. I desperately want you to
remain on my team.
Don't be shy or afraid what others will think.
Please understand you are my hearts missing link.
I want you beside me, never behind.
Love is colorblind.
Who cares if the public sees us hand in hand.
It's not for others to understand. A black woman walking next to a white man.
It's annoying when people stare like we are celebrities;
Especially when we attend social events and parties.
I can tell it's during those times you're uncomfortable with me.
That causes a strain in our relationship, leaving my tank on empty.
Inter-racial relationships have been around since the beginning of time.
It's those individuals in society that are colorblind.
We have done nothing wrong. The feelings of love we share must remain strong.
For so long this situation has weighed heavily on my mind.
I'm letting the world know that love is colorblind.
Note: Even after we celebrated our first black President, our country suffers from racism.
Especially in prison, and it is sad. I am bi-racial myself. My father is caucasion while my
mother is hispanic, and I've never understood racism--never will!
The choices we make in love can surprise
Because it sees not with the eyes
It looks within the tender heart
As its healing power it imparts
Love sometimes comes at first sight
And give the soul great delight
It can even grow over time
For reasons with or without rhyme
Love can travel over seas
And catch the whisper of the breeze
Love can drizzle just like rain
It can come and go again
Love can fall like gentle snow
And soothe the soul in summer's glow
Love can blossom in the spring
In its fragrance the heart will sing
Love is what will see us through
Through thick and thin it's there with you
And when you find a love that's true
You'll be glad to say "I do"
Love can do all this and more
For this ailment there's no cure
Love can even blow your mind
And it does all this, while being "blind"
----
3/26/16
.
I found it between freshly cut buttercups
and a cerulean sea
Splashed upon a canvas
of a painter' s fantasy .
I am colour blind , yet since I was a child
I could feel, I could taste, I could hear
I could smell ,all that I couldn't see .
And its green. It is so green to me.
I smell it through the brewing pot
and pouring of a morning Indian tea
I taste its sugar from the maple leaf
And its green , it is so green to me.
I feel its velvets on my neck's nape
from the early buds of Spring
I hear it through the sheep bells
grazing on the hills.
I see it 'neath the harvest moon
when they drink white wine and sing.
I am colour blind , yet since I was a child
I could feel , I could taste, , I could hear
I could smell ,all that I couldn't see,
And its green. It is so green to me.
This colour of serenity
Makes me one with who I am
It is in tales and genesis
of Eve and every man .
This nature where I roam through
Far from envy, wild and free
Far from the climbing ivy
that chokes society.
Between freshly cut buttercups
and a cerulean sea.
Its Splashed upon a canvas
of a painter's fantasy.
Beyond those blues and yellows
Is it green that I can see ?
Its verdant fields I sleep on
wherever I may be
P.S - Inspired by Silent One 's Green (Colours United Contest )
bur not for the contest.
Though I'm not colour blind, this was inspired by
someone close to me who is colourblind to green and brown.
Our fellow travelers,
What measure of trust for them?
The moment's imperfections are easily, even instinctively overlooked -
We risk for their benefit, sacrifice for their good.
Minutes stretched, the holy person spoke to all comers
As I heard love's woman,
Hanging on the pierced and tattooed man.
What did she see, he was fractional to me;
Her freely-given look demanded no return,
Love's area of the mind spreading over others.
Was it that he'd only hit her once?
The sightless mother's fingers over the face of her child
Tenderly traced that juncture of skin and hour,
Acquiring an instant in time.
If I Were Blind
I could see your face
with soft inquisitive fingers
trekking across the hills
and valleys of your physiognomy
you, of course, would sit quietly
with eyes closed not wanting to
look into my broken mirrors
from which all sign of soul
had escaped long ago.
but I am fool and blinded
by what I see, unable to penetrate
beyond my fingertips into the truth
golden verity of the sweetness
the ardent nature that is you
your face is worn with life
it stops me like a wall
your depth will not catch me so I fear
instead it will demand from me
more than I can ever be
I will be unmasked.
(This a new Version created using many editing suggestions from Linda:)
I picked you up
like a “shiny” newly minted copper penny
it was your kitten fur voice
O how you would hate that...
the avocado texture of it
with which
no matter what wild wicked hour I would call you
you would answer
You shimmered like sunlight
on the forest floor of my needles of neediness
glinted off the shiny chrome and twilight blinders of my
“made to order” searcher’s soul
You were the perfect portent
with your torrents of torment
to wash clean my jet and emerald caves
Or was it you who found me?
a white gem
silent, hidden behind my poetry
sitting in a seat in that Inn
listening to the hues of blues
stenciling the deep red shards of my heart
onto the unlined pages
of a blank black journal
I wore cool light blue and soft sheet cotton
like a cloud-kissed sky
I was light as air and as deep as “a thousand leagues under the sea”
You became my heroic touchstone,
my one true thing sapphire-sparked rock of glory
I hung you around my neck
oxen yoked myself with the weight of you
I hung myself
faithfully -to “my cross to bear”
your endless denial of our love.
You were lithe…thin as a straw… tall as a poplar
white as ash and grey as coal
except for the orange hot fire in the center ring
....of your cigarette
I mistook it for the flames of our unearthly love
It was just the firmament of your eternal coolness reflecting back
the stars of my own piercing need
Yoked by my own wanton weave … I drove on blindly
mind spider webbed
the ghost of your emotion-less carcass draped around my neck
“Leave no man behind”
I know you laughed and told them
that it was just a fire pit left in a cave
by the Queens of the Stone Age -Some loud, angry band you loved
Less real to you
by far more ethereal and ever lost in time to me
than the new found “writing on the wall”
Towards this world I am ambivalent.
Seeking not for retribution
but focusing on clarity of mind.
One may have a tenuous grasp on reality
and still, achieve this.
For a blind man in the fog
has the same chance as the sighted.
Self-reliance and intuition are his eyes.
As clear as day he walks his way.
Only he knows his own heart.
My first crush seemed like a box of Crayons
Hot Magenta was tugging on her nylons
She dyed her hair like the Florida Sunrise
Her Cool And Crazy words just mesmerize
Cotton Candy eye shadow with every blink
She kissed Wild Strawberry that tattooed my cheek
Her Midnight Blue eyes, that just sparkled within
That Glossy Grape dress, gripped her like sharkskin
We shared a drink, it was called Lemon Lime Zing
This long story short, Atomic Tangerine