Best Blotted Poems
Once, side by side, they walked the moonlit beach
in silence- each alone and incomplete
in disjoined worlds- linked only by the reach
of tiny, lapping waves upon their feet.
As silver beams of moonlight iced the ground
and blotted out the heat of sandy gold,
their warmth of humanness was hidden- bound
beneath blind souls that shivered in the cold.
Yet, on the sand, their shadows danced along-
a silhouetted couple synchronized
in motion- forms united clear and strong
against the blankness which the moon devised.
Dark shadow puppets sparked romantic light-
gave living souls new vision in their night.
December 18, 2014
Shadow Puppets
~8th Place~
Premiere Contest: Silhouette
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Judged: 09/16/2017
Shadow Puppets
~7th Place~
Premiere Contest: Mid-June
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 06/15/2017
.
This desk with its scattered papers,
blotted ink and unsealed envelopes…
passages penned and tossed
in the confusion that lives and breathes in my mind…my heart
Distance frames the walls of
the addressed…since canceled
Splintered dreams on the edges are worn,
time has shaved the moments…the places
on broken calendars swinging freely
of lost dates scratched within the numbered boxes
Sorrow carved in the fine oak grain
by an empty pen with dulling point…dented
Poetry sits meaningless
with rhyming phrases of hope…wishes…love
begging for but a brief visit,
only to be discarded between reams of teardrop leaflets
Verses formed deep within a vacant heart,
a lonely space, emptied by the loss
I write in an absolute mist,
fog induced renditions of another’s touch,
formulating in the same words…always the same words,
repeating in the darkness that sighs in rhythm of a flickering candle flame
Over and over,
echoing the halls of this barren heart
Shadows drain the breath
of hopeless desires…built on manicured dreams
within a world collapsing in shredded
prose, and fractured fingers, still writing
I am lost
without her…
10/14/16
The Poet's Ache
Greg Barden
Here I stand before hundreds of moss grown graves
There is a mournful silence that extends
Through the weed grown path, no traveller walks
The place, some morbid warning portends
Hush.... hush is this place, here no bird sings
The wind here sighs in silent pain
There is a muffled horror all around the place
Even the leaves chant a sad refrain
Here, Death sits on his imperial throne
Mocking at the relics of human glory
Zealous with the task of deleting the old
To script a new chapter, a new story
In these ancient graves sleep the silent dead
Their toil and trouble ended with life
They must have been perhaps heroes of the land
No more are they part of world’s victory or strife
Nor its sad commemorations or triumphant jubilees
Though released from the shackles of oppression
Each dear presence has now become an absence
Here they lie anonymous, without a single possession
Did they perish in a battle or struck by some pestilence
However, their names are blotted out from life’s tome
They are knocked down and mocked by time
And they lie here uncared, expelled from their home.
Generations pass and their progeny comes
Unmindful of who lived before them
Neither thankful of the legacy left behind
Nor thinking that all comforts, from their toil stem
Vacancy alone greets my pensive eyes
Each life here is a volume shut down,
To be cast aside and eventually forgotten,
Or erased forever with no name or renown
With a heavy heart I stand beside these wrecks
Thinking I too shall lie here, devoid of all opulence
Leaving all my hard-earned possessions behind
With no trace, mocked by time and forgotten by the populace
In life, we often meet with ups and downs.
The unexpected waits to pounce on us.
In the wink of an eye life can take a u turn.
We must solve the conundrum of life all alone.
Tossed and shattered by breakers rushing upon
Sometimes we are ripped apart, torn asunder,
Landing in alien shores, in hostile situations.
The night of weariness may suddenly descend.
The lamp of life may be blotted out by sweeping gales.
Many a time we get shattered in the throes of life.
Life is often loss and pain, facing the unknown
We do not know where our journey takes us.
With masks on, we are destined to play our parts,
Even after the music is over, till the curtain falls.
As we stroll through this maze called life
We never ask ‘whither’ and heedlessly move on!
Song of a Warrior’s Bride
He counts on me for beauty:
His eyes blurred by bloody spurts of war,
Scarred by deadly blasts of bone
And tissue, his vision marred
By chunks of men that shook him down
Into the oozing mud of sorrow,
And unscrewed the sockets of his soul,
Blasting windows that once shone luminous,
Into dark pools of madness, mocking
The watch he had to keep that night.
He stopped his ears against
The final cries of men turned babes,
Moaning for mama or a medic,
Gasping for a hand upon their head,
As prayers and curses were sucked
From bodies by the piercing blows
Of guns, while rockets puked
Hellish flames that blotted
Out the stars, until darkness
Swelled into a symphony of pain,
And his heart choked with agonies
He could not stop to heal.
I have learned to fasten his gaze
With the soft gauze of understanding,
A fabric thrown across the room,
Rich with memories between us,
Like rose petals sweetening the air.
I can still delight his eyes and lure him
From the tangled jungle pits he digs
And show him patterns of new mercies,
That reveals the hidden weaver of our days,
The keeper of our steps upon this turf
Of life, turned gentler now.
I drape and wrap, twist and thread
My warless arms around him,
Still fingering the loom of prayer.
Murmuring vows over his embattled brow,
I draw him underneath our tent, pitched
In the heat of hard fought love.
Winter’s fury
has long died;
fading, weary,
she comes to pass.
Sunlight spills
across open yards,
blotted white -
then, one last
chilled breath
escapes with might
before succumbing
to southern breeze.
The seasons
transform with ease.
Subdued colors
slowly brighten -
in budding delight,
rising, swaying,
searching sky,
they sleep no more.
Pale cheeks,
soft to touch,
cheerfully blush.
Love blooms
in wake of warmth
and bubbling sounds
of children’s laughter.
Under a hearty sun,
bare feet and legs
long to lilt
as passion follows
deepening breath
out to taste the open air,
waiting for night
to kiss in the flush
of descending moonlight –
as shooting stars
sleep no more.
last sparks in the fireplace
cool, no longer needed
to kindle romance.
Feeling alive,
I soften to the touch
of spring dew,
the joyous music -
rustling leaves,
songbird’s melody,
fresh falling rain;
nature’s dance,
taking her time
to seed waking soil
until she voraciously
catches fire
seeking summer
like a lost love –
a restless gypsy
on a journey-
she sleeps no more.
Spring dresses earth
in liveliest colors…
and I smile,
Overwhelmed with the beauty
touching my soul
and sun showers falling
on sweetened dreams.
MINDFUL OF SOLAR ECLIPSE
He’s coming with his dark glasses
and dizzying smile
He’s stopping by for a minute or two
a minuet of manic joy
He covers the sun with his steady hand
she tingles with trepidation
Will she be blotted out from his employ
she wipes off sweat as he passes by
Merely a warning of end times
dark days of deepened sin
We watch with amusement
arm in arm on love boats
Standing in main line parks
finding the perfect spot
Would we find the perfect standing of our heart
a bond with the patient perfect God
When the cross covered the earth in darkness
men of old took note
When the stone rolled away from the sun
the eclipse was eradicated
Emblematic pain or joy of your soul
gaze up with future foretold
8/21/2017
An unrhymed couplet
Strand’s Standard Contest NO 30
1st Place
God Sees the Scars
When someone close has proved untrue,
Betrayed your simple trust...
Used you for their selfish ends and
Trampled in the dust
The past, with all its memories,
And all its treasured ties,
The Light is blotted from the sky -
For something in you dies.
Red and deep our wounds may be-
But after all the pain,
God's own finger touches us
And we are healed again.
With faith restored,
And trust renewed
We look towards the stars...
The world will see the smiles we have, but
God will see the scars.
The darkest clouds ever
... overshadowing sight never before seen
Ominous high noon weather
shuddered the souls witnessing
the
death
of
the King of kings
It was a festive occasion for the wicked
that Son-less day —
a Roman execution was underway
Three wooden crosses
were fastened to the sky
And the howling of the darkening air
changed the joyous atmosphere to fear
The wicked were taking pleasure
in their vote count
They were pleased with the final tally ...
a murderer being released
in exchange for
the
life
of
the Prince of Peace
The Conqueror of Sin now hanging on a cross,
dying the death:
Crucifixion —
so unimaginably painful
Roman capital punishment
was lethal lingering torture
But for the evildoer viewers, it was a short-lived savor
For the black clouds had blotted the sun,
plunging the sky into total darkness
Heaven wept that day,
without shedding a teardrop from the sky
Heaven cried that day,
blood tears of the Lamb of God
Sanctifying water soaked the ground
Cleansing the Resurrection plots,
that one day
would be opened by the trumpet sound
Heaven wept
funeral tears for us,
wearing a shrouded veil of darkness
Hiding anguished Holy eyes,
for
the
Father could not
look
upon
the
Son
As the King of kings Messiah savior blood
dripped
down
the cross
from a
thorny
crown
For Sotto Poet's E Words Contest
17 June 24
POTD. First Prize
-----------------
"Enthusiasm is nothing more or less than faith in action" -- Henry Chester
I cling to reveries of youth, the tender sentiment of plucking words from summer roots,
That in my journal hours when the red
of skies are agleam...phrases extend long long as straw.
I burn language the way one does in
a flamed trance--amused, enthused,
seduced-- reeling into a daze beneath
a new moon, a blur of penciled happenstance flapping like a winged feather on river of late afternoons.
I would still scribble in hay where syllables grow into racy tunes , my faith abiding in passion deep...
And I could not help myself but drown
my hands in raw and humid lines;
Bury my eyes deep in verses' jammed.
I'm loathed to leave my untamed story
when twilight fades. Still and all, letters
drip and tradewinds see blown paper
curling like blotted fingertips!
Sautéed scallops on the skirts of Italy
Debutantes of a chardonnay shimmy
Mediterranean terraces of broached stars
Gucci wallets moonlighting baroque hearts
Manolo Blahnik legs lavishly luring
High heel sculptures of effusive Etruscan art
Olive ties stirring perfumed Sicilian thighs
Inhaling fragrant glasses of jasmine jet eyes
Rosy secrets saturating burning blotted lips
Fiery fertile plumes of Pompeii's fresco kiss
Vesuvian silence preening suave sable hair
Folded napkins of toasted Venetian affairs
Spill some wine on this white cloth
So impeccable, too perfect
A painter's canvas, begging
Drippings of red, crimson stains
Vintage patterns seeping
Rose petal brushstrokes beckon
Fingers dip into warm, slippery
Strokes on virgin dust
Drawings, slowly becoming
Outlines of a past conceived
Figurines learning the creative curve of
Life’s mysteries blotted in endless possibilities
***
May 15, 2017
Copyright © Darren White and Chris Green
"The buds on my pear tree will become florets this day,
prettily unfurled a creamy white." by poet
On leaves of green streams down the gold
of a radiant April dawn,
and blotted out is winter’s cold
because sun’s here to warmly smile upon
the pear tree that is posing on my lawn.
The first day for her blossoming has come.
White pearled clusters now adorn my favorite tree.
A lovely fashionista this day she has become.
Can any other tree be more beautiful than she?
A hardened heart
closed the mind, so unkind
left the soul without empathy
struggling to understand
the joy in Christ's gift to man
Salvation of the soul
a reason to hope, to grow
in the light, the love, the wonder
of a grace that made life kinder
A hardened heart
broke through the dreams
coloring everything
in seas of blackest sorrow
left the thoughts filled with despair
carried the fear to the soul
where it kept joy from rising up
and leaving a promise of Him who knows
that faith can brighten the darkness
with sincerity and assurance
that joy comes to the One who listens
to the prayers of true repentance
A hardened heart
gorged by lies from the deceiver
Jesus adversary, the wicked one
who knows only to steal and destroy
love that flows into the light
from hearts who've learned to fight
the darkness, the hardness
with love that is gentle and kind
filled with faith that reminds
His light is inspired
His love is a burning fire
His grace is there for us
Salvation will always come
to those who pray from a heart
convicted by the Holy Spirit
who echoes His beauty in us!
Acts 3:19 - Repent ye therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord;
My first book... please leave me a review on Amazon if you read it and God bless all of you!
A Light in the Darkness
On a beautiful afternoon, crisp and sunny, I set out on a trek to the nearby woods. Except my camera, intentionally picked up, I hadn’t carried with me any other goods. All along, I saw wild flowers and strange herbs and paused to take pictures, but kept moving. No doubt, it was a rewarding experience. The lure of the unknown seemed bewitching. From the cluster of flowers on a sprawling tree, the wind wafted a rare exotic smell which I inhaled to my heart’s content. All along, I heard the twitter of chirping sparrows and some other birds and could spot large squirrels with striped designs and bushy tails. Proceeding further, heard a gurgling sound. It must be a small cataract, I did suppose. My guess was right. It fell off a rock and ran into a stream with murmur enough to lull one to sweet repose. The whistle of a quail fell in my ears and the rhythm of the tapping of a wood pecker and the creaking of dry leaves under my feet…all familiar sounds to any forest trekker! Feeling happy over my progress without a hitch, listening to the soft cajoling of birds and the confused drone of honey bees, I walked playfully stamping on the weeds.
woodland paths unwind
bringing multi scenes in row~
joy to heart and soul
By the time I reached half my way, the forest fell into darkness much
earlier to sunset. It shattered my peace and blotted out my sight, that I started running wild feeling violently upset. I knew I had strayed off the accustomed path, saw the dark sky above and heard a foreboding owl’s hoot. My path was severely obstructed by a tangle of creepers. I felt so puzzled that I could hear the loud thump of my heart. Under a thicket, covered with brambles, I saw a sudden movement as that of a beast and was afraid to look over my shoulders. My teeth chattered and my knees smote. I swooned unable to think or act, hear or see. For how long I lay there in a trance, not sure. When I woke, I saw myself lying at the foot of a tree. To my great relief, I saw the sun beams filtering down and an orange tint streaming across the foggy sky. I couldn’t say if I saw heaven or hell. Better to say, I experienced both.
unexpected turns,
life takes, landing us in angst~
yet, add to our strength