Best Bringers Poems
Dancing dragons amongst the twilight realm
Wounded warriors appear who stand at the helm
Their spirit attracts the bringers of the dawn
As the sparrows rejoice with merriment and song
They manifest through dimensional drift
Bringing with them great powers and wit
Mystic magicians who wave their golden wand
To cries of anguish must they respond
Hands that gently sprinkle dusts of gold
As they make new of what was old
Eyes that glare with infinite light
As their bodies resonate with second sight
Vivid visions that they have seen
The keys that unlock and soon will clean
Spirit soul body and mind
A spiritual sleep to help unwind
Children of light who battle the forces of dark
Heal thy wounds before you embark
Let the unicorns be your guides
As you travel timeless space and heaven's tides.
Feb.09.2016 ^WW^
The moon is full and white, and chill, this night,
it cascades past my open window sill,
and all the color fades to dark from light,
a monochrome of gray which can't be stilled.
The armoire's shadow strays across the floor.
I watch it from within my canopy bed.
as a nightmare gallops through my open door,
a Pooka* black as coal with eyes which bled.
Its jaw agape red gore froths from his maw,
and it slowly paws the cover from my bed,
a scream freezes in my throat to bird-like caw,
it dips for me to mount, as I am led.
Upon a demon spawn, I scour the moor
'til dawn descends to end this foul glamour.
6/7/13
*The pooka is a primarily a creature of Irish folklore. Considered to be both bringers of good and bad fortune. The creatures were said to be shape changers which could take the appearance of black horses.
'The Thundering Silence'
The coming summer rain with drops of pain
Our lamenting love slowly slips away
My soul is slain with a thunderous vein
My heart left broken it begins to weigh
The tempered tears will drain as they detain
My longing for you on this summers spray
Thru the summer storm my love will transform
I look to the rainbow a welcome warm...
~~~
Angels in flight within great holy height
Looking for your love a heavenly view
Bringers of light they have you in their sight
My love divine from them is overdue
Scribing angels write of my lonely night
After the storm a rainbows hue they flew
A summer rain remind that I may find
My lost love now a caressing entwined.
Aug.21.2017
SUMMER RAIN STORM
Sponsored by: Dale Gregory Cozart
One Ottava Rima, 8-16 lines
Your rhyme must be abababcc, with ten syllables per line.
In Monolithic monuments are the bringers of the derelict dawn
I see many idolatrous idols, forged in ancient bibliothecal Babylon
Within worshipful winds, that carry words of parasitical praise
And indulging in illusions that comfort their camouflaging craze
I am the god of Lust beware my tempestuous heinous hunger
My appetite for decadent desire keeps me forever younger
I am the god of Gluttony beware my excessive consumption
The more I ferociously feed, the more for my euphoric eruption
I am the god of Greed beware my matriarchal material possessions
I want what I want and not what I need, to satisfy my aggressions
I am the god of Sloth beware my lazy inhabitations and failure to act
In my dormant dwellings, savoring sanctuaries where I safely retract
I am the god of Pride beware my self-indulging pompous portray
I talk to merciful mirrors that reflect reinforcing rumors my way
I am the god of Envy beware my desire to obtain what you possess
I want to experience everything, the secret to my seductive success
I am the god of Wrath beware my feelings of anger and habitual hates
Waging worthless wars as I open up the homogeneous hellion gates
The gods have spoken, their words eternal spread throughout eternity
In the efficacious end, Love will conquer all, so I say to you... ‘Let It Be’
Aug.02.2017
Let It Be
Sponsored by: Catie Lindsey
Wingful Whispers of Wisdom
Wingful whispers thru portals spread,
as wisdom softly speaks above our head
Limitless bursts of Love thru needles thread,
Angelic ambiance lies straight ahead
Scurrying starlit sparkles full of grace,
when their work is done they will efface
Illuminations of both time and space,
laboring luminaries of eternal embrace.
Upon their Divine dimensions,
they manifest on earth with ambient attentions
Orbiting with gravitational suspensions,
winged warriors of ethereal extensions
Halos of healing bringers of light,
messengers of love through the mystic night
Harbingers of Heaven with infinite sight,
benevolent in beauty admits their flight.
Winds that carry a breath of bliss,
storms of joy as they witness a soul kiss
The warmth of white light we shall miss,
once they return to their Angelic abyss
Have you seen one so did I,
they appear on the peripheral of an eye
Sometimes blue or white falling from the sky,
one stands behind me now as I shed a tear and, cry.
Aug.02.2018
NEW RHYMING POEMS on Angels
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
N/A for contest
They stand tall with their yellow coat,
Before they send their saintly seeds afloat…
Spiritual soldiers in silence softly set sail,
Through fields of dreams with a tenuous trail.
Dancing and drifting until the wind has gone,
Bringers of wishes decorating the dawn...
Panoramic puffballs pollinating the view,
Under heavenly skies of bewitching blue.
The sacrificial soldiers will not return,
As their love diminishes we will always yearn…
Dandelions of the seraphical sacred sun,
With beauty unleashed your will, be done.
April.11.2019
DANDELIONS Poetry
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Placed 2'nd...Thank You
Africana, a poem that details the pre - colonial, colonial and post -colonial Africa, her rich history, struggles and unique cultural heritage in a picturesque execution.
Africa will Rise Up Tall,Bold, and rule the Earth again
But first Africans must be Africans and more, not more and black.
Mathew R, 2014.
initiator, AFRICANA - the movement ©
AFRICANA (A Poem )
"Our forebears broke kola nuts
And offered prayers
To the benevolent maker,
Whose name varied from one tribe to another.
They lived in peace and harmony."
This was way before
The meek white missionaries
Made landing on our shores.
Africana
They condemned our customs and traditions.
They said our ways were too primitive.
So they burnt down our shrines
And in its stead,
They gave us their three C's.
(Christianity, civilization and commerce)
Africana
These white saviours, in their glowing white robes Baptised our forebears
In the name of the Father, his Son and his Holy Spirit.
Whilst our fore-elders learnt how to pray,
They formed a government,
And on our natural Resources they preyed.
Africana
Albeit their government lynched our forebears.
In the church,
Both the oppressed and their oppressors
Screamed amen.
From two conspicuously separated rows;
The salvation bringers occupied the front seats
The back seats, sanctified for the blacks.
And they said their God was impartial.
Africana
They captured, tortured and shipped
Our forebears to the americas;
To work their cane plantations,
Cotton fields, paddy fields, sugar plants.
The unfortunate ones, thrown overboard
To swim Frank's ocean.
Africana
And many centuries after their first landing.
We, the descendants of former slaves,
Rose from our slumber
And fought for Africa's uhuru.
This freedom many willingly laid down their lives...
And when at last,
We were declared independence,
Our struggle for survival begun.
Godwin Henry Osaigbovo Pa Shakespeare
Cat you are a glorious beast, but I nor any other need tell you that. So content within your given domain. For the most part you are a genial ruler. Tolerating the occasional intrusion of your space by the ones who brought you to this place, the bringers of food, and who gave you your purpose. Softly swishing your tail from side to side, patiently waiting for the sounds. Then you hear it, a soft knock within the wall, another and then another. It is mouse, your reason, your purpose. A handful at least scurrying within your walls. The mice seem oblivious to the fact that they are not welcome as they engineer their micro world. As far as Cat was concerned the mice are invaders to his kingdom. Cats whole body surged with excitement as the patterned knocks moved closer to the gap between the floor and the wall. A single beam of golden light illuminated the very spot. Cat was as calm as he was tense, his entire being focused on the task. Cautiously out crept mouse. An obvious kink in his tail from previous encounters with Cat. Without hesitation Cat attacked. Mouse was caught. Mouse emits a scream that Cat found to be rather irritable. "such a cowardly group of creatures", Cat thought, "Always stealing, hiding in shadows, and leaving behind trails of filth." This mouse was young. Usually youth is the advantage in life. Giving naive bravery where there should be fear. For this mouse lack of fear proved to be its' most costly mistake. Mouse fought hard to free its self from under Cats paw, not seeming to have an iota of understanding that soon it would all be over. One bite and it was done. Mouse no longer moved and Cat looked down into the one visible eye of his catch. Seeing the dilated pupil and blood shot iris of mouse cat knew as well that it for certain was over. Cat won't eat mouse the very thought was absurd as far as Cat was concerned. Instead Cat carried his prized catch and left it at the door for his people. Cat knew they would appreciate the generous gift. Satisfied Cat meticulously groomed his brilliant Orange coat. Cat lived an admirable life by a cats standards. It's not always a kindly affair, but it is what was expected. SO forever in Cats' Kingdom would be the order of things.
THE HUNGER WITHIN
Deep within I feel this hunger
So eat, I must, and then no longer
Crave for food but grow much stronger
Make this hunger ease.
But the pangs; the pain, it lingers
Although I feast and lick my fingers
Food from all the kindly bringers
Won’t stop this hunger tease!
What to do I now must wonder
All the pantries I shall plunder
And if it be I make a blunder
Will this hunger cease?
[ O’ Cupid, ‘Help!’, you Love Factotum
Shout “ahoy, Nil Desperandum
You’ll starve no more, ad infinitum”
Quell this hunger, please! ]
True it be I have no lover
Just one I want, I want no other
If food be this there’s none above her
My hunger to appease!
(The Fg 81.5.8)
I wish I was a rare White Raven
Not albino... leucistic... odd genetic defect
born of single pair black common ravens
minimum pigmentation, eye color flecks
White Raven legends as light bringers,
Subjects of discussions and books
Foretelling world's end, playful tricksters
Extremely rare, unforgettable looks
May 6, 2018
"I Wish I Was A..." Contest by Viv Wigley
Fourth Place
They once were men, but not these days.
See their quest for power
in their starving gaze.
A people once so, prospered and proud.
Since then let in,
much dark they've allowed.
A thirst unquenched, always wanting more.
Greed has sickened them, stricken to the core.
In a desolate place where the sky burns red.
And a noxious cloud ever hangs overhead.
Through the mountain pass,
beyond the magma blasts.
Way down there where it bubbles through the ground.
Down there's where, where the Sterchin be found.
They conjure poison, exhale disease.
They'll show no pity towards your mercy pleas.
Their journey's thinned them out, stretched them tall.
They feel no fear, nor remorse at all.
With such great will,
to destruct, to destroy.
Breathing death and decay is their one true joy.
Sick spreaders, rot-bringers,
with a waving of their fingers.
Lift the dead up, make them walk.
Their wicked touch, long it lingers.
Practice arts of black, dark rituals too.
Things of this are what the Sterchin, they pursue.
Glowing white eyes, and pale burned skin.
The scars they carry
show their desires of within.
To melt away, the flesh of all those who oppose.
Soon they'll have their way, is how their prophecy it goes.
The plague-bringers of old,
are coming so I'm told.
Leaving everything,
in their wake, dead and cold.
Green smoke's in the skies,
the elders so advise.
Grab your swords, swords and boards.
The Sterchin lords are on the rise.
Have I seen the world to be?
Is there a world to truly be seen?
Yet within belongs a one me
Who perhaps live in a world of dreams
With time as subtle as its passing
We chose to live a little or die a little more
Branded of choices, forever we be choosing
Did you choose to live or die for?
No one is innocent as sinners to the grave
Nothing is simple... and nothing is complicated
Bringers of lies, sinners to truth we save
Gifted of time shall only truly be awaited
In disharmony we cleverly hide to live
Building a world nearer to its dying state
Yet beauty be found need only believe
Shall I hope...? Or perhaps what is fate?
Maybe seen wasn’t as much
A one world becoming too rare to say goodbye
Yet seen have I seen as such
Perhaps too weird I live... am I too rare to die?
Indirect interference into interesting iconographic inked inner initiative is not a carefully stepping clam, a carved tree cake nor a dune of a moon. Taking no bistro out for a walk or a cafeteria for a swimming lesson. For galas are won by astronomical gesturing garages who can do a high speed sprint in a pool. And high jumping competitions are competitively won by a zero rated steak sandwich with extra relish and cheese. Well that helps with the balance. Wow. Even eggs, explosive electric eels, erotic earwigs, economic ecliptic eccentric elves, and a fortified frog are capable of racing a tidal wave. Perfect. Pass. Perfect position. A country manor is not maneuvering on a dry day. Dry days deliberate drying dresses. And dance of the nine millimetre worm can be most admired in a pie of a circus tent. Whirling around carrying eighteen batons, a baseball, a silver jacket encrusted with rhino slices, snake shoes, and a tiny earring glowing. Lights that are lit at that moment will ensure a beacon built. And beacons are not big bakers they are brilliant bringers and bombarding battlers. So not a duty seen before in a table spire leg of a nineteen century church with a nice arrangement of flowers and candles. Watch how it moves around in the dining room. Arlington National Bank meeting Arlington castle in a tank ranking above all the little poor people. Nineteen fifty one and three quarters through the year but now overseas known as an overweight quarterback. General-purpose general genes. And the light from a single bin can foresee an evening gown in a long moveable mirror. Mirrors message movements making music movies. Instantaneously it is. How rather remarkable don't you think? And now take a little pixie and have a little dance in a bathroom. Great. Especially when carrying ten loaves of bread, seeded buns, apple cakes and the mucus from a very fat slug is said to be gold in a full moon. So kiss a grass snake and lean on a temple. Forty forms frolicking. Going boing. Wow. Marvellously enchanting is an armpit aroma? Hahaha the glass is staring at nothing today. Hahaha disrupted drainages hahaha left wing right tail light hood bonnet boom. Boot shaped milkshake on a intersection. Xxxxxxx millionaire monsters. Chat cheat. Xxxxx psycholinguistics z Z Z Z Z bang bang bing bongo. ***
Poetry: A Mythic Bird,?
Flying over diverse landscapes,
?Catching clues, cryptic signs,?
Messages from mysterious places,
?Beings, our starry ancestors,?
Mirror-earthly poets here,?
Resonating in rainbow hues,
?Refining, surrendering, creating,?
Poetic cosmic web, symbolic net,
?Casting visions into an infinite ocean,?
Or into invisible etheric spaces,
Nature’s precious garden too,
Poets cultivating sweet melodies,
Elemental sprites in gleeful abandon,
Wind songs, sun dances,
Rays streaming, love enchanted,
Praying sparks may flare, ignite,?
Sparkle in twilight zones,?
Candles flickering in darkened caves,?
Poetry, gifted from angels,?
And other Celestial friends,?
Reminding, that we are passing by,?
Earthbound, but also Cosmic wanderers,?
Evolving into universal light-bringers,?
Shedding outworn garments of limited identity,?
Celebrating spiritual maturity long earned,
?Learning sublime, transformational language,
?Words that resound in open hearts,
Oh you wondrous mythic bird,
Poetry!
in my dreams (change)
sail in tiny birch bark boats
along the velvet dark streams
listen to the chuckle
of the invisible water
as she faithfully travels
toward the prayer of morning.
we drum quietly to waken
every living creature
with our mothers heart beat
the buds in the trees stir
the deer lay down with their fawns
life follows the canoes north.
winter parts before us
bows to the bringers of spring
wanders off in unkempt fashion
to sleep the living time away
on mountain tops and circles
at the ends of earth, so it goes.