Best Buoys Poems
To The Brink For The Ink Crack Like Fissures
Another page scarred with ink. Upon her page, I see red ink
branded by the thoughts I think. Tattooed thoughts, that make me think
My mind imprisoned, feel the burn, Within intricate patterns, my heart it learns
past the point of no return. As I slip off her ledge, my spirit churns
Faces bob like buoys in an ocean, For her mind, it is an ocean
I'm sea sick to societies motion. I'm lost upon, her wave like motion
Clutter intoxicates my brain, Intoxication, it fills my brain
filling me with failure and pain. Strange impressions, as I view her pain
Forcing sleep deprivation muse, bubbling from my mind, feelings break loose
cigarette, pot and coffee abuse. I'm transported back, to my own abuse
Five A.M. and the pressure is strong Crack like fissures, emotions strong
to make these words move along. I feel I've known her all along
My audience awaits but I'm still She grants me audience, within places still
writing rhymes against my will. Her rhymes resonate, until I bow to her will
Blocked by need I'm suffocated, lungs filled fully, never suffocated
my joy becomes what I've hated. She’s one transcended, not filled with hatred
I can't escape the vines I've grown, a climbing flower, I've see how she's grown
notebook prison, I cry alone. With her notebook open, she's never alone
All this angst and misery, She transcends angst and misery
all for the love of writing poetry. Within her glowing landscape of poetry
Casarah Nance Richard Lamoureux
September 14, 2015 September 14, 2015
Dedicated to the Artistry of Casarah Nance
I am faceless
Tattered by actuality
Heart thrumming in my ears
Blind to prospects
Voiceless ... soundless
Yet I scream, mute
Face to the sky, I wail like a fiend
Hailing the heavens like a forsaken angel
Above, the sucking expanse
A mocking roar of silence that drips, somber
And bleaches my bones black ... indelible.
Of those most dear, I brood
Ever-near, in my visceralities
The joy and regard that but their mention imbues
Sings through my blood like a brand
And buoys my spirit, steadfast.
They ARE my heart, after all
My essence ... my worth
Is this longing, then, but folly?
Should it NOT be the spur of my marrow
To hope for a shard's requital ... in love?
In tender, affectionate intent?
Or even in, dare say, (desperate) ... pity?
Even that, I'd surely embrace ...
Oh, yes ... even that.
* SECOND PLACE in the "Any Poem Won In A Contest In November" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor. *
* FIRST PLACE in the "Contest Number 355" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor. **
Unhooking my bikini, I fall in
to Utah Lake; it’s thirteen years ago!
I’m naked, and the sun - incarnadine -
like me, has also slipped itself down low,
(though into dusk), while, I -in water -glow!
My arms are freckle-speckled, lightly tanned.
Beneath my skin I’m feeling golden, and
my breasts are buoys, round and pearly white.
My legs kick strongly; they are lean and grand;
I’m sturdy - yes - but now I’m sweetly light!
For Cyndi MacMillan's YOUR BIRTHDAY SUIT Poetry Contest
The orchid moon and I look in kind
at the dimpled ocean's
aubergine plain, meandering thought's
violet caves. I've lost my way
in the lavender vortex
of a tuberous begonia.
A July storm has passed.
Brackish petrichor lilts with the purr
of surf, now jade in lilac light,
unfolding on mulberry sand,
effervescing at my ankles,
gentle as cat fur.
This full moon buoys
out past merlot bluffs,
reposing on a mauve ribbon
between sea and plum sky;
periwinkle stars beg to spark
beside the aura of a steadfast satellite
that casts the grape of night
in fixed solitude.
Once more
these achievements
milestones on your journey
anniversaries, like buoys
mark how far you've come- over life's ocean
through all kinds of weather, you have
safely held together
proven sea-worthy
once more
wild waves crash ashore
as high winds whip floating buoys ~
sea storm symphony
For forty weeks I kneaded a promise,
introducing myself
to an enigmatic stranger
that resided within
stretching boundaries
until he overflowed into my soul.
While his lungs searched the air
for breaths of inspiration
my hands, for the first time,
reached for a warmth
greater than faith or flesh
without hesistation
and without the familiar fear
of rejection.
I’d never before expected so much
from someone so small
or trusted myself so much
to have the courage
to die a little, bury one child
to nurture another
but I did.
Fifteen years
of rough waters and sea monsters
and my tides still rise and fall
by the ebb and flood
of his negotiating moons;
sometimes I feel
as if I’ll be washed away
while garnishing his heart and mind
with vigilant shepherds
but I shine on,
sewing bright buoys to sea foam
so that when someday my lamp has been doused
my son will still know his way home.
I couldn't suppress
How music makes me feel if I tried
It comforts me
It spirits me away
From stressors of the day
It's almost like magic
How it buoys my spirit
From song to song on my playlist
Bobbing my head front and back
Grooving side-to-side
It gets my fingers snappin'
And my hands clappin'
And my feet tappin'
It makes me dance
Like nobody's watchin'
A good beat keeps my body movin'
When I'm in the club, whooping it up
When I'm at the gym, sweating it out
When I'm at home, relaxin'. I love music...
It doesn't matter the genre or language
Submitted for...
Strand Select Y,Any Form,Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date: 02/22/2020
Date written and posted: 05/26/2019
as shockwaves chilled the tide, filled the water
on buoys where also my white face fell
would we remember this time, holding blue
in her deep cold blast, the ocean's eyes stopped
while salt drained what's left of an iceborn cry
invisible the shore moved, or footprints
in those sandals I still disappeared in
her frozen lap is everywhere to me
seagulls combing the green spray, but it's green
so you see the current left in the cracks
I beach on sea laying down, lying down
where shells in frost-dead surf core burned further
filled the water, as shockwaves chilled the tide
on buoys where also my white face fell
holding blue, would we remember this time
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Why chase rhymes? Penguins don’t.
They plunge—black and white chaos—
into brine.
I sip lukewarm tea.
Words aren’t anchors. Mother once said.
They’re buoys.
Let them drift.
Let them drown.
Watch what surfaces.
Life is indeed full of surprises..
Life is so huge to understand
It pricks us to cry, and lulls us to smile
Yesterday, we were full of love
Today, we helplessly fall out of love
It buoys us up to make the most of it
And be the best of everything
It is an endless maze,and faith is the only
banner of direction to destination
A gamble that we sometimes recklessly bet
Win or lose,we are up ready to try it again
A lesson, we ,most of the time, forget,
We do the same mistake, we learn and relearn
A pain, we get over with and yet, we find ourselves
being hurt again..
A trust, we willingly give away, but once
deceived, we can hardly give it back.
We build and rebuild it..
We sacrifice, we need to, to complete
ourselves through our loved ones' success
We hope like a persistent gale, failure may be
at hand, but we just don't stop hoping..
A choice that always begets struggle
to make us strong and be humble
We dream.We need an effort to believe in it
to get through and live through.
If life is so flickery to handle, then I must hold on to
the truth that I still live and live...
Between a sky of pale blue, streaked with white,
and a glassy sea of royal blue,
there lies a land of lavender rock,
where wind blown grasses grow in briny
patches around weather beaten houses
brushed in pastel shades of yellow, pink,
and green and blue.
A grey fishing shack stands on silts
beyond the waters edge,
deep in rippling reflections of itself
and the sky that shimmers across the inlet
to the other side, where a dory
tethered to a dock stacked high with reels
of blue and orange ropes and buoys,
rests peacefully in the noon-day sun, with me,
on these long cold winter nights.
~~~~~
Water
rough, calm
swimming, sailing, surfing
freighters, buoys, fields, earth
tilling, planting, harvesting
fertile, barren
land
11.10.2014
Sponsor Regina Riddle
Diamante Poem
2nd
ELAINE’S LIMMERICK
Let me tell you of my sister-in-law Elaine
Whose breasts drive most males insane
With her size double D’s
They bring men to their knees
Her name’s in the breast hall of fame
She says being big busted like me
Is not all it’s cracked up to be
She says in frustration
Try and hold a conversation
When there’s only two things a guy sees
But although she is much well endowed
Of her breasts she is so very proud
She tailors them cute
In their double D suits
To make them stand out in a crowd
Her breasts they are not a disgrace
Even though they won’t stay in one place
They wiggle they wobble
And sometimes they gobble
And unsaddled they fall to her waist
Recalling her lactating years
Monstrous they brought her to tears
Like torpedoes they fell
To her lap they did swell
Her son cried, “Mom I can't nurse from down here!”
When her milk came she thought she’d implode
Then like volcanoes they both would explode
She’d bind them real tight
They put up quite a fight
Till she cried, “No more can I carry this load”
At the lake when she jumps off the boat
A life vest she’s no need to tote
For she bobs up and down
Impossible to drown
Like buoys they keep her afloat
To enlarge them women pay a big fee
To, say a thirty-six C, D or E
But hers are quite natural
She can use them as collateral
And they didn’t even cost her a penny
She has memories of breasts standing high
Neither one was the least bit shy
But gravity has taken its tow
For they now sit quite low
But with underwire she can make them look spry
They're so big that to some they look wrong
But she can bounce them to the beat of a song
They're no longer high and round
They're like two sagging mounds
Because she's now a size Double D long
Skies ablaze with auburn rays
Horizon foretelling the dawn
A turtle strays through a lily pad maze
We're the first ones on the pond
As we paddle along we're singin' a song
For the signs are clear to read
If nothin' goes wrong it won't be long
The fish'll be startin' to feed
We hear the sounds, they're splashin' around
On water once still as glass
And seven pounds are about to be found
In the form of a large mouth bass
We start to row fast, the buoys zip past
We arrive at the secret spot
Then at last the pinpoint cast
The Lunker is soon to be caught
3/5/05