Best Breathing Space Poems
The Summer sun shimmered upon the lake.
Sunny-side up, the sky, the brightest soak.
Its reflection - a breathing space intake.
Stay on the path for its easy, light yolk.
The darker side, with two-sail boat, deep sighs.
In awe of ebb and flow, in Spirit’s glide.
In the shadow of God, in morning rise,
before your chores call you - a soothing ride.
Serenity is deep and wide. A smile
of warmth before the Fall. Glass eyes glisten.
Your heart, is calm, in solitude. Do wile
away the day, to soothing splash. Listen…
Lax days, upon the sea and sky, compose.
You hide in God’s glory - swaddled shadows.
My head rests on the doorframe, as I'm watching him at work.
I'm jealous of the devotion, and the motion of his hands,
much surprised at the green-eyed dragon that lurks within my mind,
while he rubs the pungent oil into muscles of the pine.
With rolled up sleeves, a sweaty brow, his rough, sandpaper hands.
he hones a smile along the aisle of every strand of wood
With even strokes, a time-worn cloak is peeled back and released,
where the onion skin of years and wear
had been entombed beneath the grain
He groans with satisfaction, (this Frankenstein, of mine),
while something worn, and tossed away,
is brought to life.
Back from the dead
A shimmering sheen, patina gleams while morning light slides in,
I think I see a swirl of smoke that curls above his head
And the warmth of the wood has sizzled hot, as if the sun came up
No awareness of the passion, engrained upon his face,
he sees me not, .... or my jealous want,.......His needs have been erased.
The lingering scent of linseed has claimed my breathing space
There are swarming nests of sawdust , cart-wheeling in the air,
a strand of hair, falls out of place.......and I cannot tear my eyes from here
The sensual, taunting, simple grace.......my eyes have begged to stay
I stare and marvel, for awhile
A shiver up my spine, implores.....to touch the man I face,
release his trancelike state of mind,
and let his fingers trace
________________________________________
I always thought you loved me
Guess it isn’t so
Thought it was forever
How was I to know
You belong to another
She has stolen your heart
Better start to adjust
Now we are apart
Such tender words you spoke
They meant so much to me
Was it some just a joke
Was I blind and couldn’t see
I see you out together
Walking hand in hand
I thought we were forever
I simply don’t understand
There will never be another
No one can ever take your place
I have no chance to be a mother
Guess I need some breathing space
Trust has gone from my life
Your actions made that clear
I will never be your wife
A life alone now is all I fear
Jan Allison
28th August 2014
Daylight slips in and out
of yellowing curtains,
as the sun blinks.
At such times
her thoughts
appear and disappear
The old lady has planted
her mind in closets
where dreams wither,
in kitchen cupboards
where herbs and spices dust the dark.
She will leave what she can;
small packets once gardened
when she cared to cook.
It is coming -
a change of occupancy.
She senses strange feet
and slamming doors,
young laughter runs in and out
of her breathing space.
Until then, she is here
in her last chair
in a memory-seeded apartment,
listening to the history
of her tucked-away life.
In the beginning,
the wood floor’s purpose
granted ease of care.
Grandchildren, however,
took two running steps
in sock feet, and slid
all the way down the hall.
Sweet William and Petunia,
sent feline fur floating
through breathing space
as they chased one another
and batted toy mice
across the shiny planks.
The warm, wooden hue
furnished a fitting tableau
with the furniture
of our casual lifestyle.
Peace and contentment,
settled by design
on multi-purpose surface.
Oh restful place
Weary are my eyes that watch in glory
Worn are the clay hands of my race
With lines and tales that rise upon my face
Oh restful place
With battened flattened ruby shoes
And America spirited sapphire pants
The whistling winds call the to trace
Oh restful place
I was but a warrior of my tribe
With my black and white plumage and my pride
Around my neck the jaw of 10 bears embrace
Oh restful place
A wiser man I am that has come to think
In the comforts of a rainbow painted room
I feel the desert sun has parched my breathing space
(Inspired by The Native American Ekphrasis contest
Photo found --http://joanfrederick.net/cannon.html)
Must I act like a Goat for you to know
that I am not a Goat?
Goats are stupid and senseless but I am not!
Treat me not like a Goat 'cause I am not one!
You know it all but never give me a breathing space.
Must I act like a Goat to show you that i
Don't like your character and face?
You think I can't wait and see another
Who can over throw you in the same act.
Change your attitude towards others in your life.
We are all in a learning field of life.
You think that I am a Goat because I acted like one?
No I am not, I did that to get something from you.
Must I act like goat always to you in life?
I may be one today but tomorrow I will not!
Differentiate me from those Goats at your door,
I am not one of them!
Lockdown over, I had to head to school
my pupils waiting to learn the golden rule
I got ready and put on that mask
following the health protocols is a must
How would I each word articulate?
and those whole lessons explicate!
***
Principals in their towers have their say
and teachers, Skills For Life, have to convey
So eager to see my pupils and join the classroom
no time to spend with colleagues in the teachers room
Just virtual wishes.. Love and hugs
and the joy of all the social media tags.
***
I looked weird, in need of a breathing space
with that mask and my glasses, nothing remained of my face!
High time I proceeded with the warming up
avoiding to preach or give a negative heads up
A perplexed look in my pupils eyes I could see
a strong desire to build in them a motivational esprit
***
Nothing has changed, me doing all the talking
in day dreams they seemed to be sinking
My voice in the void echoed, "am I speaking Chinese?
I'm afraid, these are but the English language abcs!"
'If you can't turn the page, burn the book'. "Would you please paraphrase?
not all at once, please, one at a time as always!"
***
"Sorry teacher, we didn't bring our textbooks"
I was maddened but they got nothing from my looks
"Teacher, isn't burning books wrong and bad?!"
I felt deeply disappointed but could nothing add!
I see you've been learning English off by heart!
and with revision you've torn your minds apart!
***
We are wise and curious, teacher! glued to our smart phones
learning from Peaky Blinders.. Breaking Bad.. and Game of Thrones!
I thanked God I was wearing that shielding mask
I could resist my rage and carry off the teaching task.
To my pen, a deep gratitude for such a relief
such a consuming task could make funny and brief.
Grant yourself the opportunity to feel everything
Even when it feels like no one will ever realize
How deeply you hurt
That pain does not own you
It is you at work
Don't ever pretend
You are content all the time
That will curtail your growth
We all need some breathing space
In order for us to regroup
Don't ignore the hurt
Don't ignore that part of you
That sometimes feels so empty
Work through it
Walk through it
Even pain
No matter what the cause
Does not own you
It is like everything in life
A temporary season
Who you are after the process
Will be your testimony
©100620161420
Stop the war,
Pleaded the children
Eyes filled to the brim with
Despair as to how they can feel
Hope being destroyed with gloom
Stop the war
Else how will peace be celebrated
As the symbolic Goddess of Earth?
That which allowed us all
To smile at new dawns and to
Sigh contentedly at the onset of each dusk
Stop the war,
Time, days, territories, history, clans,
Belongings, thoughts, mindsets,
Everything comes and goes since
Nothing is permanent here in a world
Which gives us not the bliss
Of living forever!
Stop the war,
Violence remains futile
And the breaking of each innocent heart,
Accompanied with the spilling of each drop of blood
Shall be written somewhere in the karmic book of records
And it remains inevitable
That that which is sown is that which is reaped!
Stop the war, please,
Already troubled by a pandemic,
People want to allow their own selves
Some stable breathing space
Instead of being submerged in the fear of bombs
And the loss of lives!
Stop the war,
Since clinging on to the unnecessary
Shall merely pave the way
For the torch bearers of the Kali Yuga
To proclaim it loud and clear
That circumstances are shining forth in their favour!
I awaken after said storm thrown weakened am I
In awe in wonderment as to where I espy
Fervent to silent as I witness this breathing space
As I slowly rise my tall in this seeing succulent heaven place
Barren beaches of gold amidst greened hue
Hearing cresting of thundering waves crashing true
As I start to look around in hungering thirsting cry
It's the time to ask myself as to where am I, sigh!
To a palm leafy avenue I take to a rest
As I contemplate such wonder in tiring drained zest
I awaken to my belongings and to my belongings saved
For what I had on this journey, caught waves now waved
Thinking thoughts caught, then cast like the waves brought
So many like the drifting bringing waves, leave me naught
Contemplation runs wild as to where my wanting's declare
Recalling looking around, was it purely saved heaven stare
I know it's time to address the needing's if I'm to be found
With unknown known bravado in my mind has to be sound
As I look around me seeing what simply surrounds be
My time is to be taken to the accommodation of me, thee
Having searched seeked determined and decided such
In amazement abound, it's all in bountiful clutch
Coconut and their palms grace me shelter and food
Berries I dare to taste, feeding me fishing I should
Fresh water apart the nuts in rainy filled capture
I'm feeling Crusoe, of reading book stature
Sleeping I do soundly to the caressing waved shores
Whilst burning embers deter these petulant scores
Creatures of difference with no accountable stockabilty
Deem to me useless, with no accountability
It's the plantation that offers survivable quantities
That feed fuel my wanting's reaching inevitability
As days turn to weeks I'm in possible addressed talk
Not knowing the many creatures, in shyness I baulk
As weeks turn to months, and months into years
My name is Robinson, soon I'll share these tears for fears.
Over two hundred million people sleeps and wake without a leader,
A cloned effigy in a rock called "Aso"
too old to lead or long dead to be,
demented or dead, they cannot tell,
old age has come but he would not leave.
a cult of connivers shields a tyrant,
with ceaseless speeches and empty promises,
One A Liar , some are writers and others are twitvist,
Two years of silence and none dare ask,
where is the President who took the oath?
Over two hundred million heads bowed to corruption,
East and west the groans is Loud,
where right is wrong and wrongs is praised.
The governors or senator and ministers too,
all aligned to loot the treasury,
recycled bandits in seats of honor,
Judges are blinded and the media subdued,
as brown envelop diverts attention.
over two hundred million destinies suspended,
#ENDSARS was their last successful outcry
a revolution too soon suspended
From Bonny Barracks to Lekki, criminals in uniform murdered unity.
bludgeoned agitators with the barrels the errand boys of a dictator police and solders.
and the masses too scared for a total freedom,
returned to apathy and unending subjugation
Over two hundred Million deprived masses.,
controlled as slaves by a hundred old despots,
Littered across cultures and tribes, a handful few protected by guns,
ex criminals , Presidents and ex all,
with looted funds in London and and Zurich,
atop hills in gaudy wealth,
unaffected by the groaning of a people nestled in penury,
Over two hundred million people disunited,
who by amalgam compelled by Britain's Lugard,
Feudalism and lie called democracy.
The minority herders on a mission
they took the yam and knife without resistance.
where beggars becomes a tyrant after election (Rigged)
and the masses dare not demand accountability
over two hundred million sufferers gave oppressor a breathing space,
where servants becomes the Boss,
without pacifying and unwilling to yield
the Loot looted named palliatives.
old tyrant mock democracy by decrees
What country ?
Don't ask me.
you know it well
She sometimes looked so cruel when angry
But she was always so beautiful when happy.
She was a little rebellious with life
But she made good concession all the times.
She was irritated with all her duties
But she would often make it run smooth.
She fussed, expecting more from him
But would finally rejoice in what she acquired.
She would fight me like a spoilt kid.
But she would look after me as usual.
She said she had too many kids
But would find her breathing space in some way.
She said she was not in the happiest home
But she would join in all the festivities.
She would taunt me like her rival
But I understood she was frustrated.
She recoils every time I want to help her
But I double my effort to please her.
She thought maternal love has robbed her
But would make effort to be a mother.
I love her for what she is and has been
But she says today I was the unwanted child!
Well...I'm relieved she said it finally
But I say : GOD BLESS HER...
Under the canopy of pine trees,
We lie watching the peaks of mountains
Crowned in white and wearing stony brown.
We take flights to majestic heights
To see views from the summits’ tops.
Dreams fulfilled, we fly back on a high
And land on the remnant of pine leaves
Where we lie, you and I, wide-awake.
Ever in the mode to propel me to fly,
You are my dream-drive, in blossom,
Residing in the warmth of my bosom,
In a niche that you have dug deep
And which you have never quit,
Forever forgiving your companion
For his shifting sights, pine tree high
Piercing the sky, and buoyantly green,
Quivering like pine branches,
Leaving him with no breathing space
To take life in slow motion and meditate,
To bring a shade of stability to his life.
You have left me high dreams to nurture.
I have bartered some for pieces of gold
But some you have treasured for me
To fall upon when inconsistency filled my life
And buds of high dreams
Started wilting before their bloom.
Then, in a soft gesture, you will open your chest
And grant me some of those jewels
Which in their flawless forms
Will glitter like shining stars.
A life's stretch is finite.
A day will come when I’ll feel fatigued.
Then, in a meditative silence, you and I,
We will lie under this canopy
And gaze at the clear blue sky.
The sky will take on a dreamy look
Embroidered with resplendent stars
To salute my companion and me, lying-in-state.
With her brush and canvas, she charily dash
Slowly and surely, never ever she rushed
Each stroke a decisive measured stoke
Yielding a beauty of light and heavy poke
A family of emotions, she does evoke
Even palette of events she illustrates
As she aims for a perfect painting
People that sees, admiration they rain
Her perfect painting, placed high like bling-bling
Persons exclaim adoration similar to a king
Yet to someone, starting dreams it deteriorate
Is her perfect painting implies coup de grace?
Frustration it deliver... it generates...
Her encouraging words useless to brace
Even to bounce for a breathing space
Her picture did neither criticize nor mock
Yet, its fairness silently touched and pluck
Probably causing a string of charign
Swift as the gust of a passing wind
The effects felt timeless strong never thins
Inspiration: the video with these: "Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen" by Leonardo de Vinci and "painting is silent poetry and poetry is painting that speaks" by Plutarch
(c) Olive Eloisa
6:20 pm
May 28, 2014
CONTEST: The Perfect Painting
Sponsor: Elly Wouterse
3rd place, to God be the greatest glory.. :)