Best Bricked Poems
O hear I chant clinging to a sullen northern shore,
tempestuous serene rocky beach that you so adore,
sultry soliloquy sturdy stifled structure sings,
a witness of forgotten sailors and majestic kings.
Them, I blessed with gracious shelter in storms,
for I unmanned, rejoiced in accompanying norms
dreaming of worlds afar with anchored symphony,
of parting tears that await a returning euphony.
O watch my ancient red-bricked watchtower in sky
where the cherry-eyed albatross prepares to fly,
whispering of solitary voyages on vessels adrift,
guiding them through entailing waters, cold and swift.
Them, I engulf in mystic hues of radiant green light,
their shivering agony embraced by divine joy so bright,
dancing to tunes of prodigious waves as they kissed,
my feet reuniting with the ocean bed of forlorn mist.
O taste the pungent waves that carry eternal seasons,
timeless frequencies sprinkled on heavenly reasons,
essence of leaves rolled in snow and streams they fuse,
beads reborn of universe in a cradled hammock cruise.
Them, I absorb with their enchanting viscous tides,
they melt with innocent bliss my truculent slides
that flourishes my solitary light to let me sense
melodies of blushing mornings with visitors hence.
O touch my abandoned walls, barren yet strong,
bereft of warm embrace in a lifetime so long;
them I nurture with tears of melancholic grief,
to be held by tender nights of melodious relief.
I await the echoing hums of a delicate little girl,
her fingers orchestrated the howling wind with a twirl,
I became the serene light that guides despondent ships,
a proud beacon of benign hope dissolving dark eclipse.
Hereabouts the thinning glades
Of sparse grey Birches:
Brackens crisp copper tresses
All aglow;
Gently waking Snowdrops
Lift their sleepy heads
From leafy beds of woodland moil,
When tucked snugly up,
Out of intrusive sight and just
Below.
Fondly the slowing bend
Hugs upon the river...
Banked heavily with frosted
Bulrushes
That shifting breezes once did so
Stiffly blow;
The faltering current,
That sped the pied Dipper,
Patiently seeks out the quiet
Devotions
Of her beguiling flow.
When the drawing Moonlight
Gives way to purple Twilight
In the gloaming
Of Winters sharp days;
When the yellowy willows
Weep watery glints
Lingering and loitering...
Pining for long Summers slanted
Rays.
For far, far, high above
Over the old red-bricked mill...
Whose creaking sluice gurgles
With long melancholy sighs:
Heavens twinkling stars,
Held briefly in abeyance,
Partially obscured by thin veils of
Dull-leaden, magenta tinged skies.
Where the low horizons fall
And briefly meet the mornings
On heathered moor, open field,
And inland shore:-
Here beached boats dreaming
Of white crested waves;
Soon the keen plough will make
Ready
To score the deep furrows once
More.
Now our Lady Skadi,
Purest and resplendent,
Through driving sleet
And blinding blizzards will ascend -
Returning to aged fortress
Of eternal Utgard
Leaving her thawing snows
To dispel long Winters End!
`
Like block shaped wheels our lives stumble at the chapters we write
Corners seem dark and teeming with doubt,
alleyways call in echoes of our name,
as if tempting us to crawl when we cannot walk
“Fear begins the parade at our fragile hearts”
Shades are drawn and slotted with eyes watching,
voices ring the halls of the buildings looming large,
rumors of pointed fingers find our ears in colander fashion,
dripping fear at our feet
“Waves conduct sound, crashing vividly as we hear”
We cry,
hoping these tears will somehow wash the pain,
fill the gutters and move out to sea,
casting waves upon unsuspecting shores
“Wishes…more waste than want…at least of these eyes”
When of the shadows a touch,
softly at first, then strong upon our shoulders fall…
comfort leaps to our hearts in sing song praise,
wishes become goals and finish line adventures
“What is this light, soft yet sure, found within”
We are not alone, darkness hints at light
and butterflies fill our air with prism’d colors and soft breezes
collecting on our damp cheeks and drying the aftermath
of our understanding of reality
“Dreams of these nightmares fade into happiness”
We find footprints in the dirt…two which are not our own,
closely, yet affectionately following our way and bringing direction
to our dreams, yet the nightmares still flourish
but we do not feel so alone
“Fences built may keep us in yet… may keep us out”
For this hand, from a distance,
climbing mountains and fording rivers
leads our hearts to the safety of love just beyond the bricked wall,
the ivy covered monolith, the chain link disaster
which once stood locked
“Finding that a breath may exhale peace…again”
Now stands open an arbor of hibiscus blooms
and teapot pourings fore our eyes, open and hopeful of the coming truth
once lost beyond our dreams…and we breathe
for it feels right to breathe while standing in the darkness…not alone
”True friendship will always find us and comfort us in the darkness”
A PROSPECTIVE.
A POSTAL EMPLOYEE IS LICKED.
A GROCERS IS FRESH.
A FIRE FIGHTER IS PUT OUT.
A TEACHER IS LEARNED.
A WINE IS BOTTLED UP.
A MAILER IS SENT OUT.
A FISHERMAN IS FISHY.
A MASON IS BRICKED.
A CAR IS TIRED.
A DOG IS BONED.
A CAT IS MOUSEY.
A BOY IS PLAY.
A GIRL IS FANCY STUFF.
A MAN IS STRONG.
A WOMAN IS LOVE.
With timid steps and a trembling heart
I walked through verdant barren paths.
Toward a rusty gate it took my feet
Into a garden of roses among the weeds.
Carmine flowers, dripping in blood
Wrung my heart in pain of fear.
They caught me from every side
With their lithe and sharp thorny fingers.
Raveled in clutches of copious wines
Turning and twisting I struggled to escape.
Evening shades pirouetting ghosts
Trapped in light tracing fiery faces.
Pouring perspiration pooled my feet
Shedding grappling thoughts I decided to run.
Back to the sinuous path,
Away from the puzzle of life,
Till I reached the black bricked wall,
Beyond it I lost my memories,
Maze of mind closing behind me.
First Place in Maze - 10 Word Challenge Poetry Contest sponsored by A Dear Heart
I feel like I’m on the verge of awake
Yet I’m sure I’m still sleeping
Inside my mind all these thoughts
continually keep creeping
Within the mortar of my bricked mind
I feel the darkness seeping
The pain of this secret I’m keeping
You need me to stay strong for us
But I can barely hold back my own weeping
All my memories are left unsaid
I float through each day
Fog filling my mind from morning till bed
This pain inside me begs to be fed
The colour of my heart is black now instead of red
Why I ask why is our child dead?
I want to reach out to something someone
it’s way too hard here inside my head
With pain I am now wed
too much hurt remains unsaid
I know you can hear the silence
It screams out consistently loud
Remembering him every day
all those things that made us proud
In my chest I feel my heart burn and pound
Empty has its own sickening sound
What we are looking for can’t be found
Thoughts in loops going round and round
Not even in a bottle can these thoughts be drowned
I know you don’t want others to know
You bury your feelings
not wanting them to show
But inside of you I watch the pain grow
You pretend to be steady
but it is eating you slow
Every inch of you consumed
from head to toe
Like a boat tossed to and fro
I want to help but you won’t let me row.
Dedicated to a friend who knows an unimaginable pain.
You came in from the cold to warm my life,
a beating heart resuscitating my imprisoned soul –
bringing colour to the palette of my life.
I gave you me, all of me… all for you
I was your oasis in the wasteland,
a drink of cool water in the burning sands –
quenching your heart.
I gave you me, all of me… all for you
The waves of existence lashed against our fortress,
determined to erode the foundations set in love –
and carved in the bark of our hearts.
I gave you me, all of me… all for you
Us, two against the world, we faced it all and even more,
nothing could divide us – tear us apart…
but you did! From the inside out, you broke us!
I gave you me, all of me… all for you
Ripped at the seams, what was once is no more,
the essence of us left to bleed – to flow red into the sand…
Sacrifices, compromises, choices made meant nothing, even though
I gave you me, all of me… all for you
You caused my soul to bleed because of your selfish deceit,
the secrets you kept exploded into the light – searing the truth that I wasn’t enough…
Excuses, justifications, waterlogged reasons couldn’t hide the fact
that it was all about you, just you… all for you
So here we are, broken but not beaten,
the page has turned and a new chapter opens up –
new possibilities, horizons to be chased, a new yellow-bricked road to follow
because you finally realised… all for you
Time heals all wounds they say, but we will never be what we were,
facts have to be faced and decisions made –
and one day you will turn to me, really look at me and say…
I’m here, all of me… all for you
Copyright Deon J.H. Burger 2016
Sewing machine, long idle, gathered dust
A willing victim to time’s soft crust
Dulled sergeant stripes lay on the floor
Fading remnants from a worldly war
This old, now lifeless, bricked in room
Is now but a capsule, her timeless tomb
Her future and dreams enjoined in fight
It's here she threaded her rifle each night
The war years seemed like only yesterday
Still, both them and her have gone away
Yet here in this room Mom's candle does glow
It's here in this room she labored so
Her faint initials still etched in the rust
Beside her machine she is frozen in dust
That wonderful lady and her vanishing mark
The candle sputtered, spent, and all was dark
** “The unexamined life is not worth living” – Socrates.**
Looking Inward, Asking For Serenity's Grace
Looking inward, a soul that so silently weeps
For the realization of dear dreams born in sleep
And cessation of wickedness in this dark world
Those unexpected strikes from lightning bolts hurled,
Deeper in that inner web, hiding there alone
A phantom- it's ice-cold, hard beating heart in hand
Magnitude of negatives, more than one can stand!
Looking inward, where heart its gasping whispers beat
As if constant traffic on golden bricked streets
Therein the winds of romance so quietly wait
Chance and the manipulations of hands of fate,
Sweeter in that inner web, hiding there alone
A valiant knight, armor clad and steely eyed
Holding true to the hope on which millions relied!
Looking inward, asking for serenity's grace
Welcoming true light, demanding courage to face
The unknown and world's barbaric mercilessness
Yet brave enough to let love abundantly bless,
Chained in that inner web, hiding there alone
Those pleading for swifter rescue and hopes return
To lift them from bondage and flames set to burn!
Looking inward, a soul that so silently weeps
For the realization of dear dreams born in sleep
And cessation of wickedness in this dark world
Those unexpected strikes from lightning bolts hurled,
Deeper in that inner web, hiding there alone
A phantom- it's ice-cold, hard beating heart in hand
Magnitude of negatives, more than one can stand!
Robert J. Lindley, 6-09-2021
Rhyme,
( To Seek Wisdom To Break Out Of Inner Bondage )
Like a penny, lost and worthless, woman
mother, and buried within the origin pit, dark
she brought me like a Jezebel into her life of mourning
mistress of the stage and child to horror
born, and off he ran, forced flight my father, loss
the hussy dies but on Edgar lives in awe.
Blood and death and pain feed Poe’s awe.
Why she had done, what soul had she, this woman
leaving him a found fledgling of loss?
“Why, why, bring me into this hellish dark?”
Coal black the pit and pendulum of this zealot father’s horror
the devil’s drink brought penitence and forced, mourning.
“Bastard child!” his stepfather screamed in mourning
as his new Mother looked on in awe.
And, his new brother watched on in horror,
the lash was not spared nor kindness brought by woman.
In the starkness of his mind there was only dark.
Abandoned child, Poe, and his rescuers brought only loss.
“Run, leave, you villains all!” He cried. “There is only loss!”
So on, he wrote into the dark and mourning.
The ink the Prussian blue released the anguish his dark.
Intuition, and superstitious fright will feed him awe.
Cousin, sister, wife, would be his woman
the banshees cry, her bloody death became his horror.
“Alone, alone…” The corbies’s caw brings horror,
but for the devil’s drink, he’s naught but loss........
“Lenore…..” He’ll wall his tainted heart away from woman
and make his blasted soul the start of mourning.
“To hell with you!” He screams at those in awe
of his blank and burned out hulk of dark.
Bricked in or deep within the ripest dark...
“God, so alone……….” He hides in horror,
forlorn, depraved and not at all in awe.
For there is no romance found in loss
no beauteous bounty in the dross of mourning,
no family, friend or wife not tainted, born from woman.
So, Poe lives and dies in awe of the dark.
Where woman’s deepest depths bring only horror
and loss is all he knows in light of mourning.
Where would I live if I were richest, and had all the money in the world?
Outside the square box, where no doors exist, and locks will never block
My entrance or exit, without four walls or framed bricked structure this
Is where I’d live and do now!
Again I’m asked where this address is, what fancy abode or country,
This location the French Rivera, or maybe even the city of romance Paris?
Nope none of these places will do for the likes of me, my substance
Is worth more than glitz’s and glamour allow, after all am I not
The richest person in the world?
I live within the valley of the thunder storms heartbeat, where flesh
And bone melt together as one unit, here passions lightning collide
Against the rocky torrent of desires epic flame,
Never to be extinguished or dowsed, by emotions ocean of doubt
Or regret!
But again these outsiders ask me once more but where, we’d like
To know, for we’ve never heard of such a place, give us the answer
To this riddle of yours Madame, for you are the richest person on
Earth the world must have the answer, as the paparazzi flash
Their gossiping, chattering, Cameras!
But these hungry mongers will never know the truth of the matter
At hand, for they’ve never experienced truth wealth of feeling,
Or valued anything but the almighty dollars golden card, of worthlessness!
Oh what an empty world, do these poor souls exist upon, a baron plain of
Dancing dollar signs, where false illusions seem real or tangible to the
Touch, but in reality are delusions images melting away, as time fades
The fame to the beauty factor unto nothing remains at all!
Nay I’m here in reality’s penthouse on high, beyond the fake staining of the
Smoke and mirrors game being played below, in this devotional residence
Without numbers!
For again the question was and is where would I live, if I had all the money
In the world, I’d live within the heart of this man whom dwells beside me,
He who’s sacrificed all for me, loved me always through thick and thin,
My shoulder of endurance and tenderness!
For what is true wealth my friend, but love itself my world begins
As his eyes open in the morning light, and ends when his close at night’s
Final twilight hour, where do I live within this man whom loves me!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
NOVEMBER 11, 2015
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BABY OF 55 THOMAS
"The Flood Contained Electric"
walls of glass
sheathe this heart
a conservatory
for the lacking
of menagerie
the walls aren’t
bricked up
comme dans une
la orangerie
clearly seen
straight through
X-ray vision
dancing dervish
until the clouds
roll in and the
pea soup fog
mists over the view
jade is the colour
caught courting within
the flinting prisms
seen in the eyes
of jaded others
the storm's coming
warns Elektra
standing outside
the shattering
evaluation
rain like hands
clapping
hail like pebbles
thrown by the good
heavens above
turn Pollock
tomatoes crushed
hard thrown
the bleed painted
as water colour fades
pink and naked
cantoring in the mind
then, racing west
unbridled like
a white wedding
splayed onto the page
the bride stripped bare
surrenders
bricked in
l'orangerie
the flood
contained,
Elektra
turns away
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
canter
cantor
Of bus stations I have known, this is by far the worst
A post Victorian folly that's a post Victorian curse.
A waiting room that's cold and dark a room ground down with grime
A fire bricked up no form of heat a floor all wet with slime.
A tiny little bus station behind the old town hall,
Six tiny little bus stands beside a red brick wall.
Built for smaller busses to host sightseeing tours,
For transport to the seaside or the rugged northern moors.
Congestion in the timetable brings many busses in,
To squeeze into the bus station like sardines in a tin.
December winds are blowing hard bring snow in from the north
The crowds just praying for their bus so they can sally forth.
The "Counties" bus at bus stand six is driver-less once more,
It's passengers stand huddled up outside the tight shut door.
The wind still blows the snow gets deep and piles up in the gutter,
The bus can't move the drivers lost the crowd are in a flutter.
At long long last a "rep" appears his clip board boldly waving,
All services canceled for the day it's time to hit the paving.
All services canceled can't get to work I'm wasting my time remaining,
For an act of God is an act of God and there's really no point in complaining.
Querulous Shoe
I'm all worn
out. Would you
look at my heel?
She leaves pieces
of me all over this
campus. Whoever
bricked the walkway
did not consider the
stiletto's plight. And my
chafing toe cap, awful.
Given what she paid for
me you'd think she'd take
me to a cobbler once in a while?
Give me a makeover! Show me some
love -- instead the girl walks all over and within me,
by me. Her need breaks my sole. She just cannot
go a single step without my most supportive arch.
I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react
When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown
Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.