Best Caldera Poems


Premium Member The Mystic Valley of Dzoku

While rambling like a vagabond in a seraphic poetic submersion, in a remote region, witnessed the most captivated sight ever, 
a sleeping valley rippled in wild blooms, as sparkling in mystical celestial beam, in the mesas of the clouds, the Dzukou Valley, 
a remote dale at the border of Nagaland and Manipur, 
in the untrodden tableland of India's Northeast!

The picturesque landscape was ringing with the
once in a lifetime scene of emerald shades of hillocks 
paving the way for azure mountaintops,
 luminous flowers waving in the winds amongst the tall grasses!

The vale was tweeting and twirling amidst the virgin vegetations enriched with the spectacular sights of verdant forests, 
exquisite flora and fauna, 
serpentine streams, myriads of panoramic pink 
and white wild blooms that dot
 the vast caldera of the valley and its' verdant meadows, 
alongside the meandering rivers of Dzukou and Japfu,
 appeared as the absolute paragon of serenity and tranquility!

Surrounded by the whispering platonic hills, 
with numerous colorful flying creatures,
the valley seemed as smuggled over
the dewdrops' fragrant feral fruits, 
Oak and Rhododendron forests are a feast to the eyes!

Half way up and any signs of tracks disappear,
and one is just left with wheezing enigmatic bamboo thickets!

Botanists' delight, trackers' paradise, seraph's psyche,
 rovers' riddle, is reclining placidly , 
the untrodden earth's lulling lullaby,
 in the abode of the divine Lily's
 anomalous nature's absolute pamphlet,
 a rich biodiversity hotspots
of endemic species, the Dzoku Valley;
an uninhabited unsullied phosphorus valley

Note: 
 The Dzüko Valley is  located at the borders of the states of Nagaland and Manipur in Northeast India. The valley is  known for its extremely rich biodiversity, seasonal flowers and flora & fauna. It is situated at an altitude of 2452 m above sea level.

© Silpika Kalita

Leading Me Away

Hollow red brick walls
surrounding open fences. 
Lost corridors to home
covering trenches.

A journey of 
the mind Leading 
me far away  
from life & out 
of existence.

Someday to
arrive & 
Understand
 why

Hearts cry,
souls die
trying 
todefine 
a love
twisted.


David J. Caldera

A Fist of Chicano Rage

Whose turn is it to take the stage,
In a circus of a lost & somewhat forgotten 
race.  Where our value in life has 
diminished,  we are no longer a thriving 
culture living in The United States.
 A people who once held their heads high,
 and raised their fist together in rage
for our rights.
We have been Labeled like cans,  like labeled bottles,
 grouped in & labeled as Latinos, not as proud Chicanos.
 I can’t act like I’m not offended and
everything’s  okay.
I have to speak out, right now, here today.
I must voice how I feel and make a statement, 
I need to be real in everything I say..
I must do it for my children,
so they hear Dad voice his opinion,
So someday they will do the same
for their own children.
I’m proud of who I am and as I stand here
 today. 
A Proud Chicano living in the United States
I raise my fist in a Chicano Rage...

David J. Caldera
01/03/08


Premium Member Fair Warning

stealthily hiding behind gray white mists
wispy smoke rising heavenward in twists
within caldera red hot lava boils
menacing flora, fauna and topsoils
beware if ground beneath feet starts to quake
creating distance the best choice to make

don't count on Planet Earth being your friend
always has potential to bring our end
please try not to take it personally
planets must do what comes naturally
do not expect any introduction
even for events of  mass destruction

universe does what universes do
adapting to the results falls on you
© Ng Rippel  Create an image from this poem.

We Are Flotsam

(with a spark of God)

To govern a myriad selection
Of one mind and legion.
Top tier parasitic collection
From every living region.

It's not subjective good or evil,
Moral or immoral, right or wrong --
But, a wanton cellular mass primeval
Versus ego and super-ego strong.

Toxic algae over jellyfish abundant,
Floating in poisons of our making:
CO2, methane, livestock redundant.
Do Vegans dream of plant life taking?

Al Qaeda, ISIS, Boko Haram:
Brain-dead sheep of the clan,
Following blindly without exam,
Trading for virgins on Ramadan.

Black holes wandering
About Yellowstone caldera.
Plague virus pondering
A Thermonuclear plethora.

Anthropogenic extinction sirens:
Suffocating on dead Phytoplankton;
Lost in narcotics and hallucinogens;
Obsessive love via Keats and Byron.

At the precipice of an extraordinary evolution,
We must rid ourselves of ancient superstitions.
To continue our rise, or reverse in devolution?
Agnosticism seems wise -- so say my suppositions.
© Tom Arnone  Create an image from this poem.

A Homeless Man King

Paths followed are many, 
I, a slave to this dusty, dirty road
Destiny has beckoned me,
My past,  won't let me be,
I must stand tall & walk out on my own.

A simple plan with just, a bit of a twist. 
I have no interest in conflict,
Unless,  there's a conflict of interest
to be.
Lead me not, into the bowels of hell,
Keep me,  from the evil things I see.

Forgive me!  those whose paths I
did cross.
 Heaven forgive, they who 
put burden on me..
A poor man, I am told
Homeless they say, 
but still a man any way,
I sold everything,  to walk , these streets like a king.

David Bear Caldera
02/20/08


Premium Member Crater Lake

Caldera
formed when Mount Mazima
erupted thousands of years ago.

Lake water's warmed by remains of a volcano;
Oregon’s state park lures tourists to take a swim.

Mount Mazima may erupt again
beneath the surface of
Crater Lake.




* “The water is heated by hot rock beneath the fractured caldera floor. 
Scientists are not certain whether any magma still remains underground
but it is likely that Mount Mazama will erupt again someday.” 
– The Oregon Explorer 
http://oe.oregonexplorer.info/craterlake/geology.html

Words of a Sinner

One who has sinned,  doesn’t make him a sinner, as long as he
Seeks to be forgiven.
The words of a sinner which are spoken in silence
Under his breath breeds his knowledge & good sense
“Sinner” is nothing more then a label that ones been given
Unless he’s given it on his own just to seek his own forgiveness.
For he who is without sin, let him cast the first stone.
For he who sins never sins alone.
If I am a sinner for making a mistake and I can’t be forgiven.
Then sinners are we all,  for the mistakes we’ve made while
 amongst the living.
For God can only judge me and cast me to be a sinner..
Until that day comes I’ll consider myself a winner….

David J. Caldera
02/04/08

Sounds of Spring

The dancing Sun rises &
tip toes to noon without sound.
You can hear a sizzle as
it heats up the ground.
A feeling of Energy
floating around.
School Bells cheerfully ringing out
children screaming & laughing loud.

Smiles all around,
people washing cars,
kids out cruising,
while yard sale crowds
 search the town.

Spring is a smile on 
a child's face,
It's a warm sweater on a
cool spring night
or eating Ice Cream 
sitting in the shade, on a hot day

The Spring Sun, takes away the gloom
& clears winters haze.
I have never before,  felt Spring,
nor have my eyes ever seen
it,  until today...

David J. Caldera

Premium Member Museum of Human History

A site of nature’s appreciation
in wildlife and physical geographic beauty
blessed with a set of spoken identity
having over a hundred and twenty limbs
of which the Bantu stretches the longest of them all.

It is the creator’s Museum of human history;
its song of natural pride and general patriotism
is unbelievably shared with two of its neighbours
as its existence feeds on a unifying regional government.

Habitat to the globe’s largest and most delicious crab,
preserving the world’s largest and intact volcanic caldera,
a site for its continent’s highest and lowest points
and the continent’s largest and deepest lakes.

A major African contributor to the allied forces of world war two
and prides in the most expensive hardwood in the world.
With such a wealthy history and enviable reputation,
its still stuck in the major challenge weighing on the dark continent.

Mona Lisa Why (2 of 2)

See the map of that
Nineteen sixty seven had 
Visible picture’s woman!

At her wedding or
A mass of first communion?
See her rosy crown? Prayer!

Mona Lisa is
A scroll?! Painted with valid
Fervent ink of different pin?!

Was she mute’s besiege!
Speaking with soft fingers’ gear!
Absorbing painful cheer’s bear!

Notice a deep hole!
A deepest caldera formed!
Like an apple’s bite’s deep core!

Turn the paper right
Can the earth near a black might?
Faster than bullet’s strange fight!?

Turn the paper round
The clock… A strange looking bound?
Lava seals all things abound?!

See the two half holes?!
Closer to her shoulders fonts!?
Fold paper at pin point’s bolt!

Would Mona become
The lost scroll? Apostles’ road!
The beginning of eon!

A scroll adored mere
Da Vinci knew ever since
A life’s lesson’s exquisite!

Was she a letter!?
With dear magic ink’s butter
Colors mingled together…

Run violet light?
See mountains and oceans fight?
A new map has been so bright?

Try to tape both ends
A new earth reborn again!
Hefty canyons, meadow’s edge…

Da Vinci loved her…
Who drew his final picture!?
Himself?! Other!? I wander…

Since every teacher
Respects the smartest student
Took care of him through illness…!

Where are the salts of 
The earth? Rhyming blissful song?
Cheers… a new clean earth is born!

With zealous love for 
All who worship our Lord
Jesus Christ who saved us all.
By: Nadia F. Shahwan – April 2009 –This poem reflects my innocent observation on the
portrait of Mona Lisa by Leonardo Da Vinci.

From the Midst of Darkness

It was in my darkest moments that
 I found I wrote my best
Like a volcano my emotions 
would explode from the caldera of my soul
Molten nouns, verbs and adjectives
 poured forth from somewhere deep within
 Flooding every line like a tsunami hitting the beach
Swelling red hot rivers of ink burned up every page
While plumes of hurt flung pain in all directions 
And pyroclastic flow's of tears roared down my burning cheeks
Thus; it is in my darkest moments that I find I write my best

Written from the perspective of a hurting poet

The Life of a Flame

Life of a Flame
By Brett Somers 

Arched over its wick,
calmly swaying,
now moves with a flick.
In this moment,
it lives,
a hot yellow flame,
so soft, so beautiful,
yet intense, 
powerful.
 
And rides above
a waxy caldera, 
feeding from  
its waxy lake.
A bouncing flame,
jumping with life,
pulsing its glorious name.

Pure energy,
pure light.
Why do I feel 
this 
flame has something to reveal?
If I could see my soul,
would it glow
with such brilliance,
such pure essence?

I stare,
transfixed
And when I choose
to let go of this muse,
with breath, 
I let it go.

And in the darkness, I sit.
Flame,
remains for a bit.
A star grows dimmer,
into a faint glimmer.

Soft wax cradles 
and firms a base,
for the wick’s embrace.
It quietly waits for another day,
to come to life again,
to burn its brilliance on,
until the wax is gone,
until the wax is gone.

Me

Pre-received,  by some to be, 
A bit of a shallow fellow indeed.
I followed the swallows
down the road to 
San Juan Capistrano
In search of a better life for me.

Better a sight there,  did I see.
Appearing & leering angry unto me,  was he.
I didn't know, had never seen.
Not one to show fear
I glared back, with a sneer.
But looking closer, I did see here.  
It was only,
me in view,
 of me,
in a mirror.


David Caldera
03/24/08

Him

With thorns impressed in his head
Crucified he was left for dead
His name & those that came before him....
Hung on a cross, he was slain
in time,  he'll come again.
He rose from the dead 
He gave his blood, so we'd be fed
The reason we live, is through him,
just ask and you will be forgiven.
He's seated with God in Heaven,
waiting to return to Earth.
His words lives on, his teaching 
are taught to us from birth.
he is with us today
in his own way
seek him, before
it's too late.
just ask him for forgiveness


David J. Caldera
12/20/87

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