Best Break Open Poems
she is tranquillity
yet lava flows in her veins
cut her open and you'll burn
she is Eve's apple
nemesis to patriarchy
one bite and you'll bleed
she is a rainbow
an eagle taming storms
no chains can contain her
she is a pilgrim of passion
composing a trail of moments
inscribed on many a heart
she is beauty personified
but apathetic eyes remain blind
know her and you'll feel the calm
for i see her soul
illuminate through her eyes
so i break open the cocoon
to float like butterflies
ascending higher
kissing silent stars
smiles beaming like the moon
content in her companionship
Simple Musing
The Silent One
26 January 2020
I keep coming back
as if, one day, I'll find
the illusive angle,
that moment of perfect alignment
when the river, the clouds,
the trees and all
that is manifested
will break open and reveal
what is really there,
when what holds everything
together ruptures
and spills forth the sublime.
I get a sense of it sometimes
at dawn when the sun
breaks through the clouds
in a blinding burst of light
and in the quiet of evenings
when a birdsong pierces
the forest with sound so pure
it seems to open a gash
in time before closing
over in a sad covering
of silence. I am granted
only glimpses as if more
would be too much
for me, composed as I am
of stuff made of this world,
its blunt chemistry.
My life, like everybody else’s, is a treasure trove
with a mine from which one’s treasures are derived.
The familial bonds we form are platinum; our friendships gold.
These are precious ores that most souls are born to find with ease.
But all of us have other precious stones we need to mine.
They are the fruit of skills and talents put to their best use.
My treasure trove abounds with gems already -
ones that I discovered as a child.
Though rough in their natural form, most of them I opened
as I grew in understanding of God’s gifts for me.
Others not so easy to break open were able to be shaped,
for once I sought them out inside my mine
and cracked them open. . . their radiance was revealed to me.
Our precious gems, God-given, must not be squandered.
Once mined, they need to be shared.
Artists, teachers, scientists, tradesmen, leaders, even dreamers -
we all have different kinds of gemstones hidden in our mines.
Once, later on in my own life,
I came upon a silver tool used by many different types of artists.
I’d seen it in my youth but hardly used it.
Thousands of words lay embedded in that specific tool God gifted me.
I delved into the depths of my mine and learned
that I could tap and tap the silver worded tool upon each stone,
and finally a gem would then reveal itself to me.
The more I searched for stones to tap,
The more wondrous were the nuggets that appeared -
And there were more of them than I’d believed I could ever find -
buried there so deeply in my mine!
The art of crafting them and polishing them up
I was able to improve upon in time. . .
and found that even those less valuable could shine!
A poet’s gems need not be bought or sold.
Displaying them with love and pride alone can be fulfilling.
How I thrill to view a wide variety of gemstones
freely shown from others’ treasure troves.
From the rarest and the clearest multi-faceted
color-shifting Alexandrite and tanzanite,
and the most remarkable of diamonds, rubies,
sapphires, emeralds, amethyst and jade,
down to the lowliest of onyx, quartz, garnets, or agates,
each stone has something of the poet’s soul within it,
especially beautiful when polished to a brilliant sheen!
The more I open gemstones in my mine, the more of them I find,
and my silver-worded tool lies nearby at the ready.
Held unyielding in your narrow mind
is the ignorance which keeps you blind.
Building dams will only hold you back
from accepting that white is not black.
Like a slow moving, barricaded stream,
your thoughts clot like curdled cream.
Thin skin has need to slough rejection,
Your rigid stance in mirrored reflection.
Break open the dam across the estuary
that hinders your vision. It's necessary
to move in sync with malleable fluidity
instead of sputtering words of stupidity.
Shedding skin will allow you to breathe.
Release your potential from its sheathe.
Even a snake slithers out from its skin
to crawl from where it once had been.
Little is the chance you have to accept
new ideas if they are not circumspect
to the fault of having such a closed mind.
Throw off the veil that keeps you blind.
Don't become stagnant and decompose
by turning your back, continuing to oppose
any idea with which you just don't agree.
You'll drown in arrogance, acting so lordly.
I see three doors before me.
The one to the left is blue, a beautiful lupis blue
with ornate lacework in its center.
Parisian-esque, it looks likes an entrance to adventure
and inspires me with its sophistication.
I imagine inside the rooms beyond that door
exotic curios on shelves along the walls
or tables heaped with charming little treasures.
My muse’s curiosity is sparked!
The middle door I see is that of a welcoming house.
Beneath two large rectangles of decorative glass
hangs a straw wreath adorned with festive flowers.
A friendly-looking white lab sits in front of this door
and on each side of it on the old-fashioned porch
are two pots of pretty geraniums.
I imagine beyond this door friends and family
gathered around the kitchen table
finishing Mom’s delicious apple pie
and preparing to break open a pack of cards
or sit beside their fireplace, playing charades
or perhaps singing along to a guitar.
The part of me that longs for warmth of family
lingers at this door.
The last door I spy
much farther away and surrounded by trees
is a light green door blending in with nature,
unadorned and not as high as the first two doors.
Were it a bit smaller and round, it could almost be
the door to a hobbit’s cottage.
A bower of vines spreads around it
covering the brown bricks of the house,
and a short cobblestone pathway leads upward
to this simple but interesting door.
I know that if I open it and wander in,
solitude will surely greet me, a solitude so sweet
that when I shut the door behind me,
I’ll leave behind the stresses of my life.
I will have entered another world
where I can rest and meditate. . .
perchance to write.
I look back at the first door, imagining the thrill
of discovery. Its charming blue entices me.
Then I return my gaze to the second door
from which warmth and empathy exude.
I redirect my gaze to the third door. . .
Which do I want more?
New experiences? Intimacy? Peacefulness?
Creative inspiration could reside behind all three.
Which one do I choose?
Which one would YOU choose?
March 28, 2017
for the Doors Contest of Anthony Biaanco
On the edge she sits, a frail nonentity;
neither bloom nor spirit, nor secure identity,
as forlorn and shy she trembles, a man
asks her to dance, she must decline.
Stuck in a bubble, just missing the boat,
floating past maybes, a lump in her throat,
she dawdles and dangles, an inch from forever,
a chance to break open, but opting for never.
One day she will make it, step into the limelight,
and pirouette daintily, taking his hand,
there'll be no more jitters or lame-brain excuses
just confident motions in time with the band.
What a relief to be one of a legion
of movers and shakers who're down from the shelf,
she's gliding with grace while avoiding another's toes,
hugging her partner instead of herself.
*******
...autobiographical, you wouldn't believe how much!
( An inquiry into form )
_____________________
There- Not here?
Start over . . . A planet and good for YOU! maybe-
' bigger than a breadbox?
So- vegetable! GREEN like ex spec tations
HERE- n OT THERE?
Not again?! therefore "we see"?
NO Justa s p a c e (maybe)
with a shape! Like mathematicians
l
(they gather in blue confusion) so? l
i
So a word with a Sumar• add• dress• h
A summer address?
· The cats break-open the weeping kitchen · e
h
BROWN then like perfect patterns just over t
and
E = Q = U = A = L
Fated to Love
Best to simply weigh the heart with a poppy seed
Counter balance on granite
All its rhythmical surging
Its expeditious life
Amounts to nothing
Better then, not to believe in its enchantment
For it is fated to love
And do little else but lead
To ruin
Well-worn to stop up your ears
Lest you hear its background murmurings
Brooding upon devotion
Lacking the power to change anything
But weeps constantly for dreams
Do not then, be deceived
For all the hearts will to achieve
It cannot
But burst inside your veins
Only half remembering what once you never held
Though its truth persists
It lays persecutory back against a lie
The heart would try
But cannot defy the world
Beware then my friends
For that muscular aorta pump and valve
Will lay you stark
And rend open beneath your ribs
And grant you no solace
Or escape
For all in the life of steady beats
It knows nothing of fact
And through your nights survival
Will stab at you with yearning
Brooking no compromise
It shall continue
Craving
Damnable heart I say
To leave me no place to rest
If I could but tear it out
For it taints my eyes with longing
Converting my hours for its keeping
Playing poker faced with deliverance
Trying to cheat destiny
With the price it paid to see me
Counting the cost in when’s
And when
When all the loneliness
Will end
Beware of when; then my friends
For that muscular ventricle pump and valve
Will lay you star-dream-gathering
And break open daily beneath your ribs
And yield to you no solace
But only escapism
Damnable heart I say
To leave me no place to rest
If I could but tear it out
Before morning sun was dressed for the day,
the white noise came and shook the darkness,
like swells swinging ships on the French Passage,
cargo ships before the engine was pulled
from the womb of modernization
Before the day break open the citadel of night,
leaving weak traces of dark shadows in small crevices,
the darkness was crowned with gold and diamonds –
stars gazing on eastern isles
The sand storms came from Arabia
and we walked with our eyes closed
The Atlantic rocked ships like noisy babies,
the white surge broke like whips,
pushing salt in our wounds,
and we prayed to the God we’ve forgotten,
but he must allow our curse to come to pass,
it was written of us
Souls were thrown in the locker,
as we were dragged westward
On rigid eardrums I play this song
What have you done to us my child?
I tore my body to bring you here
He wetted his shirt with sweat to ink your books
23 years of learning gave you a well-paying job
Your job gifted you a high held head.
Then what has gone wrong with you my child?
We chose a man to take your hand
We mistook that he makes your life a merry-go-round.
He used your beauty, brain and brass.
But that doesn't mean you have to suffer all the loss.
Did I give you birth to offer you as a prey on someone else's plate?
Couldn't our blood instil courage in you that you surrendered your life to the fear of a demon?
Didn't your red belt remind you that you are a fighter?
Why hasn't your education given you confidence to face life's challenges?
Why hasn't your job given you courage to live an independent life?
The walls of the dark room shouted beyond their limits to stop you
The wooden cupboard tried its best to hide the bottle from you
The locked door tried to break open its latch to show the world your cowardice
The flickering lamp's attempts to ignite your mind proved to be powerless.
When the eyes of your 2-year old search for you in the middle of the night,
how should I tell that the greed of her dad gulped her mother's breath?
When your father madly waits for you over the weekend,
how should I convince him that his bold daughter has boldly ended her life?
When your friends look for a shoulder to lean on,
how should I tell them that you burnt your body beyond recognition?
When my heart wants to kiss your forehead and hug you,
how should I show it the powdered you resting in that copper canister?
I tell all the daughters out there
Your life is not your wicked blackmailing boyfriend
Your life is not your selfish husband nor your greedy in-laws
Your life is not your snatched virginity
Your life is not a dowry case on the cop's table
Your life is your courage, it should stand as an inspiration.
Your life is your identity, it should set an example.
Your life is YOU.
Your life is YOU.
Your blood is yours, don't let it flow for the foolish.
Your bones are yours, don't crush them under their greedy paws.
You belong to YOU and not to anyone else.
The Tiny Seed Opened
Deep the ponderous silent beginning
Rumbled its struggle to
And break open once upon its lilting
And thought
It lifted high some resounding
Gathered itself by pulse climactic
Loosening
The swollen burst of its making
And deeper driven the slow light emancipating
Rising glory
The exulted splendour
Forth rushing spreads encompassing
In the eternal reaches
The heart beats deliverance
Sings joyous cries
With life eyes
“I am here !
“I have arrived !
The impassioned apex of praise
Fortissimo to the pinnacle creation
The tiny seed
Opened
Inspired by
Also Sprach Zarathustra, Op. 30
( Eng Thus Spake Zarathustra) is a tone poem by, Richard Strauss composed in 1896 and
inspired by Friedrich Nietzsche philosophical treatise of the same name.
( Wikipedia )
I was taking a nap
And some old chap
Closed the coffin as he heard angels sing
Knock knock who's there
It's me! I'm not dead
Now open the damn lid to this thing
He fell to his knees
Took off his cap
And uttered a few words for my soul
I was banging and shouting
Freaking him out
He was fast losing total control
I managed somehow
To break open the lid
And sat up and glared at this chap
By now he was babbling
In a strange foreign language
Running around eating his cap
Leaped down to the floor
Dusted myself off
Got ready to get on with my day
Heard him gurgle
His face turning purple
He keeled over dead and I prayed
So I picked up this chap
Lifted him into the coffin
And closed the lid once again
But now it was me
Who heard banging inside
Must be a serious glitch in my brain
Knock knock who's there
It's me! I'm not dead
Now open the damn lid and you'll see
The words that I heard
As I got on my horse
And galloped away from the scene
© Jack Ellison 2014
Anger
What a sulfurous mess of molten evil
Troubles boil and surface
The singing of fine nerves within one’s self
This pushing of restricted buttons
Annoyance, Bitterness, Harm
Can one truly control it?
Stretching into the belly of the beast
Ripping, Tearing, Gouging
At its pivotal moment
A raging bull in a once peaceful town
Monstrous demons
The evils of your mind
Do you let the gates break open?
Shall you release it to the ones around you?
Anger
When controlled, it is an ordinary burning emotion
Yet, when the chains shatter and crack loose…
Oh the more difficult it will be to pick up the pieces
Line of Inquiry
“I wasn’t sure what it was he said but it meant a lot to me.”
When there was still daylight lingering,
And the wind was upon the leaves,
And every leaf trembled at its touch,
On my balcony, I lazily sat.
My mind strayed like a vagabond,
Through the strange terrains of dreams,
Never settling anywhere,
Hovering over myriad things.
I was on the fringe of another world,
Idly watching the shadows chasing the light,
And the autumn clouds scurrying past ,
In endless quest across the sky.
Feeling the breath of passing breeze
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there,
In my trance, did I hear a grating sound?
Yes, a shut window opened somewhere near.
It was in the house opposite to mine.
In dim light, I saw a masculine figure behind the veil
A panther crouching under the foliage of a forest!
On that golden dusk, his eyes gleamed,
Sending out piercing shafts.
His eyes had the shine of a thousand stars
And in an instant, they got locked in mine
I don’t know what made me take my violin.
As I moved my fingers on its strings,
From it, flowed a sweet song of love.
I saw him rising slowly from where he sat
And coming closer, he parted the curtain
And smiled at me a gentle seductive smile.
From his sealed lips, some words escaped
As if proclaiming aloud- ‘I love you’!
I didn’t hear what he said, yet it meant so much to me.
I fell into a swoon, knew a sweet sensation
Creeping into me, drowning me inch by inch
We were so close, only eyelids away
And how I wished to be meshed into him!
I knew that in the depths of my sentient heart,
He made his permanent residence!
For long I carried the memory,
Of his passionate glance, seductive smile and sweet words,
Thrown across to me from an open window,
On a mild windy night of song, silence and shadows.
Again and again, it awakened in me,
A wistful longing, I hardly could resist,
Until it became a picture frozen in time.
On that gathering dusk lit in golden glow
Did he rob me in secret and carry me unawares,
On the languid wings of his honeyed words?
Or when he broke open that window,
Did he break open my heart too,
And enter it unbidden?
Gone under the gripping waves of squally sea of sorrow
Remains of the castle I built with silver sands of dream,
Emerging out of the debris I face the plateau of life fallow.
Aspirations die hard, so I grow wings to fly on sunbeam
Through silver-lined clouds to sanguine summit of success.
Enthralled, I enter golden nest someone built for my access,
Soon it morphs into a cage where I can’t spread my wings,
Confined in stifling ambition, freedom lost, I forget to sing.
As air serenades the spring tune that doesn’t reach me,
Provoked, I break open the golden cage, set my soul free,
Escape the prison to fly once again in the sky of ecstasy.
January 13, 2020
Contest : Any Acrostic of 10 to 12 lines
Sponsor : Line Gauthier