Best Boarders Poems
My muse keeps pestering like a cenobite,
chewing my brain like a hungry parasite.
Pressuring the ink to bleed like acid rain,
catharsis to release perpetual pain.
Hiding poems that live rent free like boarders,
I'm a shadow slave refusing it's orders.
This elusive euphoria sounds absurd,
because I'm silent in my clandestine world.
My pen has froze in this salacious summer,
ignoring mental murderous moon's mummer.
My faithful muse, why don't you abandon me,
can't you see I have no time for poetry.
I've fallen free without words, feeling too deep,
please do not disturb me, I just want to sleep.
Just like a child
I toss pebbles in the stream
Each pebble is a wish
Every ripple is my dream
I dream of running freely
my face against the wind
Hear it's million voices
and the cicadas sing.
I dream of climbing treetops
to a majestic world
a world of happy faces
where everyone 's a friend.
I dream of sharing cookies
with those we' ve made come poor
I dream to share hot milk
where we've created war.
Just like a child
I wait for falling raindrops
to cleanse away dry mud
Mud that turned in mountains
of an untraveled path.
Mud molding the borders
so innocent can't pass
Why do we refuse them
when they are one of us ?
Just like a child
I forget the bruises all over my knees
I dance into the moonlight
along with flowing leaves.
I return to my place
with a kite still soaring high
but cannot lay in my bed
while others sleep outside.
How can I be hopeful
when innocence 's not pure
When lonely tears are prescribed
treatments without cure
Just like a child
I toss pebbles in the stream
Each pebble is a wish
Every ripple is my dream .
Dedicated to the men, women , and children ,
leaving their countries, , their homes,
trying to find a safe place to stay, to escape war ,
yet still behind boarders .
P.S - When I say We , I mean it - For our countries, our politicians,
and our voices - We can do better.
Thursday, April 26, 2001 12:47:49 AM
Treasures of the Spider
Spider!
Beware of
the night feeder.
Tiny bat wings, swifter,
than the absence
of light, silent, merciless
terror.
By morning,
I survey the remnants
of your web, rent and empty
of you, just tiny whispers
of your once, existence.
Your uneaten prey,
all neatly wrapped
and dangling-
as a reminder
of all
that we
can't take to heaven
Suzanne Delaney
Written for a Golden Orb spider I
named Spideress.
See note - ScientificName: Nephila maculata
The golden orb weavers are one of the largest spiders. Their webs can be found hanging off sign posts, in or between trees and can even be spotted driving 100 km/h in a vehicle. The females can measure up to 45 mm while the smaller males measure only 6 mm. The male is often found in the web of his girl friend. Beside the male and the female boarders resides in the web. They are called quicksilver, dewdrop or droplet spider because their silvery body shines like drops of water in the sun.
Their webs stretch to a diameter of one meter between trees. It is easy to accidentally walk straight into one as they sit in the middle of their web.
It belongs to the golden orb weaver family, which is why its silk is yellow, and this silk is the strongest of any spider. Sometimes small birds or bats get caught in it
Caught off guard in templates of color
that feeling I have frozen in the flesh
is singed by the siege of beauty served
Burnt oranges,reds,and colors of ash
Lusciousness and fleshy desires
Is it just a depiction my eyes have envisioned
Created and demonstrated to cut the frame
edging the sight to save the soul that saw
poison in the passion of painted pictures
Our juices produced the perfect antidote
Which laid the blueprint for the impeccable frame
Together our bodies permeated the template
A border to beset the beast buried
under the blunder of censored skills
with the site to see free in cyanide
Boarders now imperturbable
Representation remains unblembished
Unwanted deciphering becomes unresponsive
The war is ever-nearer to the boarders of this land
Seeping forward through the woods
Releasing acrid echoes of doom ahead on energetic tongues of stowaways
Lucky to survive their ordeal
Here they are welcomed, and in this cozy tavern
Their woes are hidden in the shadows while they warm their feet by the fire, regaling their heroic tales of escape;
growing ever grander with the generous plying of ‘the innkeeper’s secret’ special brew
‘It’s a secret,’ he tells me, as I take a sip;
Warm amber fills my mouth, washing my throat with a sense of sweet spicy sunshine..
Suddenly I know, how despite being closest to the edge of conflict, this tavern will be Sanctuary …
Spying the patrons and the ever arriving newcomers from my shaded alcove seat;
Spotting frantic newcomers; a beacon of fear in a sea of jovial patrons slurring songs of old, arm in arm with one another
It’s not hard to see that this tavern if filled with patrons from both sides…
But it seems that the only person seeing this…is me
‘How do you do it?’ I ask under my breath, reluctant to destroy this mirage of comfort before me.
‘It’s a secret,’ he smiles, melting into the crowd.
I try to follow, but my legs are soo heavy, anchoring my flying torso to my seat, my will fighting my body to stay in the now,
´HOW!’ I shout out, a cry of desperation …
He turns back, only once, with a cheeky smile and a wink for good measure … then he is gone … like he never was
I wake to the sound of twittering birds in a cove of dappled sunshine, before me a meadow where once stood a cozy tavern…
All that remains; a tangled arch of wisteria and jasmine …
And the eerie susurrations of songs of old,
Inviting all in … to the toadstool ring.
Run freedom child; keep thy body low amongst the shadows,
Nay never look back, lets hastes speed excel your stride,
For the devil’s steeds ride behind thee, and they’ll show thee
No mercy, run freedom child, run, towards the distant horizon.
Travel beneath the lunar light of the lantern moon, let its
Rays of illumination guild thee, towards liberties jurisdiction,
To the northern boarders beyond slavery's killing fields.
Beware the night-stalkers whom ride by the white lightening’s
Flash and sting at the bared flesh with the task-masters lash,
Humanities wolf pack on a blood scent’s travel, biting at thy
Unsaddled heals, Run freedom child, Run, for they are a Coming!
Deep within the hollows divides listen to the whispering winds,
It echoes with a low mournful tone, a sounding’s rheum vibrating,
With a shock waves raw force of power, it is rails of freedom
Burning towards thee, Harken freedom child, and listen to the
Thunderous cries of the Underground Railroad.
A payments ticket price, is the will to survivor as a free man,
Stamped by the inner beating heart’s desire, to taste the air of
Liberation, and to soar with his winged appendages outwardly
Amongst kindred flock as equals.
Beware my friend for far above thee, two birds of prey are
At battles striking range, for your soul’s precious blood.
Behold the southern night hawk, struggles to drag thee back
To entrance of hells gates plantation, yet the great eagles
Sharpened talons are driven deeply within its crimson bleeding
Flesh of ignorance, biding thee time to flee to freedoms
Safety zone.
Run freedom child; keep thy body low amongst the shadows,
Nay never look back, lets hastes speed excel your stride,
For the devil’s steeds ride behind thee, and they’ll show thee
No mercy, run freedom child, run, towards the distant horizon.
All aboard cling to the iron handles of the freedom train,
Ride by the light of the shivery moon’s lantern of illumination,
And harken to the sounding’s echo of freedom’s distant winds,
Calling unto the souls of all men to be free, to excel, and to
Soar with the currents of equality as equals, amongst thee
Brother’s kindred.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Land of the free???
Give me your tired, your poor
Your huddled masses, yearning to breath free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shores,
Send those, the homeless,
Tempest-toss to me,
I lift my lamp besides the golden door
Enter welcome to liberty
Come enjoy this land
A nation built by the sweat and blood of immigrates
A chance for freedom
A chance for the American dream
We come along a way from that statement
From embracing arms to protest rallies
Hate spells from the top down
Laws passed to shut down the boarders
If the dream is to live America
Like those who came many years ago
Why is it now
That we do no longer want
The tired, the poor, the homeless
The children who suffer the most
Scared of the mob formed
Chatting slogans on hate
It is the norm to make fun of this situation
Who will do the work Americans will not do?
They are stealing jobs from Americans
God’s presence is sprinkled over the founding fathers
From their beliefs
To our constitution
Where has the love gone?
Why do we now not practice what god taught us
Love thy neighbor as you would love thy self
Are we now a loveless nation?
Are we now a Godless nation?
Here in America you must speak English first
If that is the case
Then why do I not hear us speaking the language of Native American
Go back where you come from
We do not want you here
Send back lady liberty
We seemed to have forgot her message
We have Forgot the nation that embraced the lost.
There at the gateway
To Heaven or hell
They come
When their living is done
To eternally sleep
Beneath the black clouds
That seep
Like ink
On a satin white sheet
Where the Raven stands
With a gun in her hand
Long tresses cascading in black
To touch the back
Of that plume-like gown
Of tiered layers
That fall to the ground
~~~~~
Of in the distance
There in the light
That boarders
The brink of night
Birds of a feather
Circle together
Screaming their song
Of fright
As---
The Princess of darkness
Surveys her kingdom
There in a sea of mist
Where those stone ships list
Lost souls set adrift
In a picture of---
Horror
And
Delight
~~~~~~~~
Written by: Elaine George
Inspired by the picture
For the contest: Among the dead
I was cleaning my garden bed one day
when a lovely bright green cricket had
a word or two to me, to say.
At first my eyes was full of wonder
how could this cricket be talking to me,
I was lost in ponder.
He looked as though he had been talking
with an also concerned looking, speckled
tree frog.
He looked up at me with his perfect, little
peepers. As if he knew I was the garden's keeper.
Are you talking to me, I asked?
Why yes I am and you have heard me at last.
In his hands so very small, he held a tiny, silver leaf
that was holding a sip of water he had gathered
from the plants that were standing tall.
I must talk with you about our water shortage,
Since the plants have grown so tall, we don't get
any around the garden boarders.
Could you please trim them neat, so that all of us
who live under them can have a sip of rain that is
natures true treat?
I could see this concerned them both for the frog's
eyes showed he agreed with the story, the cricket told.
Well Mr. Cricket lets talk a little bit for I also have a problem
with those pesky little nits. They hinder my flower blooms
and most surely always leave them to their doom.
If you and I can reach an agreement, that you get rid of
them from the top to the cement; I will trim the garden
so lovely and neat and both of us then can enjoy nature's
treats.
We both smiled and became working garden friends and
both of our troubles came to a beautiful end.
Christmas
lights everywhere
bring peace
Peaceful
angels look down
to earth
Earthly
delights bringing
many gifts
Gifting
those in need and
be kind
Kindness
comes from a heart
loving
Love that
has no fence or
boarders
******Richards express leaving the station******
11.30.2014
Contest: Musettle Train
I once lived on the Ocean's floor
and then I was harvested, and
left upon it's shores.
Even though I was made of rugged
apparel, signs are left within me
that shows I once made precious
pearls.
Once hidden by the Sea and now
the world can see my mystery.
I dress up gardens and flower
boarders. A new life for an Oyster
out of water.
A bedroom should be pleasant
a place where futures are conceived
where wonderful dreams in their effervescence are woven and believed.
when dreams aren't loved, supported and nurtured,
they are cast aside along with the future.
weeds now grow instead of flowers,
rhapsodies of life to be,
has lost all of its wondrous powers.
it is at that time the bedroom is changed.
where windows once stood with freedom's form.
steel bars are now in the window frame and
the factory for dream weaving has been transformed.
the mill of fabrics has been shut down,
the thread has dry rot and can not bound.
there will be no more sewing of seams,
for love is dead, and so are the dreams.
imaginary, ha you think so?
steel bars of betrayal, oppression & humiliation ....
believe me because I know.
imaginary... ha.. you think so?
steel bars of heartache, tyranny, anguish and disbelief .....
believe me because I know.
imaginary ... facsimiles .... replicas.....
do you believe these steel bars not to be true ?
they are there ..... believe me, i'll give you a clue.
bedroom walls which could tell many tales,
now bleed and cry.
smashing freedom as do all jails,
with its boarders wondering why?
a million pieces of devastation...
dreams of love are now only mutilations.
a retardation of two hearts and souls.
hearts once joined are now at opposite poles.
so the bedroom turns from a happy place to sad.
with bars of steel that are eternally had.
bars of steel that destroy and breed hatred.
bars of steel that satan deems sacred.
victory can be gained over those bars of steel.
to conquer that demon, love must prevail.
dream dreams of love,
and sew with the strongest of thread.
weave your fabric of love,
the dream mill must be started again.
make room in your heart, soul and head......
for the dream weaver........................
the dream weaver returns triumphant again!
We Are One (Nigeria Remix)
Ever seen an eagle feeding like a vulture?
Dignity trampled on, where corruption is a culture?
Darkness threatens her future, cause of her shapeless structure
it’s saddening 'cause she’s been richly blessed by Mother Nature
Disunity like a knife tryna cut her apart
Of the National cake the lower class don’t get a part
There’s a saying you will reap whatever that you plant
There’s fruit of hatred ripening deep in our hearts
Blame it on the Government and the sycophants right
Most citizens do not get a fair role of the dice
Economic recessions led to skyrocketing price
Job rate inverse proportional to the rate of crime
What’s the way forward for a nation without steady lights
Mourning like every night
Late fluorescents with candle lights
Our eagles been flying lowly, yet it’s a scary flight
A thousand tonnes of honor and glory, heavy right
But you'll see everyday
That we'll never turn away
When it seems all your dreams come undone
We will stand by your side
Filled with hope and filled with pride
We are more than we are
We are one
Though different color or eyes skin hair and different faces
Different cultures, tribes, religions and languages
Different dreams and believes
Different gifts we received
From the creator, our souls embedded into nature
We are one
Flesh and blood, living under the sun
A species divinely created in the likeness of God (we are)
Precious like diamonds and pearls (we)
Put in charge of the universe
In freedom, peace and unity and the winds of love
We are bound
Though divided by rivers, streams and boarders lines carved in time,
by civilization and secession into nations we may divide
but only one God watches over us like the sun in the sky
If chords unite our land, lets create a unity band
No such thing as a perfect world, but we could make it better
The grass been turning brown, you and I and can make it greener
God disguised as fate, made us Nigerians for a plan
Our nation will be great, if we unite we will stand
...everyday
That we'll never turn away
When it seems all your dreams come undone
We will stand by your side
Filled with hope and filled with pride
We are more than we are
We are one
Memory !
What a brainstorm your are
A translation of nature so beauteous than ever
An illustrated Cupid in my imaginations
With your arrows pointing to sweet bitter notion
You diffuse in a viral motion in my veins
With my gaze I descend deeply into you my core
Luminous intensity of flash fiction you recall
You make me titled, with each second I ponder
Wretched or superlative?
All these are traditional misapprehensions
Nevertheless a cosmopolitan points
To revolutionary apotheosis
A new revelation to sparkle in my tribulations
All credits to you my core
Wondering how far you will take me
Till reality prevails, my memory ...
Your autochthonous beauties
And the fluffy tenderness of your brushes
Paints the portrait of a black angel ,
Robert Gabriel Mugabe of the Zimbabwean plateau
Nelson Mandela of the southern cape
Samora Michael of Mozambique
Uhuru Kenyatta of Kenya
Edgar Lungu of Zambia
Towering Museveni of Uganda
John Magufuli of Tanzania
Alassane Ouattara of the Ivory Coast
Nana Akufo-Addo of Ghana
Muhammadu Buhari of the oil fields of Nigeria
Peter Mutharika of the Malawian slim boarders
Alpha Condè of Guinea
Iconic figures you recall.
Istanbul bridge,please take me home.
Take me back to the Anatolian empire,where you used your strength to pull Asia and
Europe together.
Then carried the weight of history and urbanization on your back, you took them to civilization.
Please take me to a land of peace,tourism and productivity,
a land of beauty,liberty and hospitality.
Istanbul bridge,please take me home.
Take me back to the beginning of Noah's new world,built on hope,justice and promises.
A beginning that united Man,animals and nature.
A land that oceans boast of,
mountains stand for,
clouds bleed for,
and the sun survives for.
Take me up the hills of Ephesus where Mary slept in peace,
down to the Mediterranean sea that witnessed the war caused by beauty between the Spartans and Trojans.
Take me from the east to the west and from the west to the east,to make new friends overseas.
From the north to the south and the south to the north,to unite nations across boarders. .
istanbul bridge,please take me home