Best Caldron Poems
12 BARS
Twelve brazen bars, one frozen lock!
Confined, sublime, an ancient Roc
endures inside a barren cage,
her catacomb in sundown sage.
Of former days there is no trace
except displays of fallen grace –
Twelve dreams, abiding in her place,
are free, inhabit yawning space:
12 DREAMS
... of wings unfurled, and seething eyes
that dredge the depths of dawning skies,
divining clouds that cling below,
once ice, dissolved in morning’s glow;
... of clutching winds that carry free
above an anguished leaden sea,
dispersing dust of distant stars
midst chunks of chain in slave bazaars;
... of swooping to a silent shore
to perch beside the ocean’s roar,
at last to feel the sobbing breeze
message the leaves of rooted trees;
... of stalking strays and twilight tramps
within the fog of lighthouse lamps
that blink forlorn through caldron nights
in search of shades of errant Kites;
... of darkling vast deserted lands,
with shadowed stones on windswept sands,
where ghosts of Moorish maidens lost
disgorge faint groans in mourning frost;
... of blotting out the bloated moon
while feathers beat a banshee tune
and glimmers dance and prance aglow
upon a pearly pale plateau;
... of tasting cool torrential rains,
beyond the realm of binding reins,
and sipping freedom they exude
in quiet drops of solitude;
... of vanquishing a galley crew
aboard a ship of midnight dew,
beneath the pierce of seagulls' screams
that mock the strands of scarlet streams;
... of sating once an aching craw
with tearing beak, with ripping claw,
and echoed by an eldritch screech
while feasting on abandoned beach;
... of restive thoughts and weary wings
that drift on haze in smoky rings,
obscured within the opal shroud
of her resemblance in the crowd;
... of croaking caws in broken rhyme
in winter woe, in summer clime,
while building nests of sundown sage
beyond outside a barren cage.
Categories:
caldron, freedom,
Form:
Rhyme
And a very long time ago and far, far away,
Beyond this earthly realm in a magic lovely land;
Can you imagine a beautiful girl who loved nature,
Deep in a lush green forest dwelling happily all day.
Everyday she followed a vine tangled mossy path,
Flowers wild and lovely and perfect delighted her;
Gathering them all in her arms to carry home,
Happy and free the girl roamed without any fear.
In a cave close by lived a mean and evil, ugly, old witch,
Jealous of the girls beauty she murmured;
Kneeling in front of a swirling caldron whispering low,
Live in the forest forever as a butterfly, my pretty!
Moments later the girl was a pretty delicate butterfly.
Now years have passed and the girl is doomed;
Only to live as a butterfly in the green forest forever, then,
Pushing through vines one day a mighty dragon saw her.
Quietly, each day he watched smitten, he was so dazzled,
Realizing soon it was love, he blew her some puffs;
Sweetly she floated to him swirling, admiring his lovely hues,
Together they roamed from that day, amongst the green.
Under the stars they slept, he held her with his tangled tongue,
Vivid were his amazing colors and his love;
Walking a forest path one day the mean witch saw them,
Xanadu was their existence and she felt a sadness for them.
Yearning to make things right, she turned him, and so;
Zillions of years have passed for two beautiful butterflies, drifting.
____________________________
July 3, 2015
Abecedarian
Submitted to the Premier Contest Number 7
sponsor, Skat
Categories:
caldron, fantasy,
Form:
Abecedarian
And a long time ago and far away,
Beyond this earthly realm.
Can you imagine a beautiful girl,
Deep in a lush green forest dwelling.
Everyday she followed the tangled paths.
Flowers bright and lovely delighted her,
Gathering them in her arms,
Happy and free the girl roamed.
In a cave close lived a mean witch,
Jealous of the girls beauty, she murmured
Kneeling in front of her caldron whispering,
Live in the forest forever as a butterfly, my pretty!
Moments later the girl was transformed.
Now years have passed and the girl is doomed,
Only to live as a butterfly in the forest forever.
Pushing through thick vines a dragon saw her.
Quietly he watched butterfly floating and drifting.
Realizing he was in love he finally, said hello.
Sweetly she drifted to him swirling and twirling.
Together they roamed all day in happiness,
Under the stars they slept, dreaming.
Very much, in love the butterfly and the dragon.
Walking a path one day, the mean witch saw them.
Xanadu was their existence.
Yearning, to make things right she turned him.
Zillions of years have passed for two butterflies drifting.
_________________________________
July 3, 2015
Abecedarian
For the contest, Abecedarian, sponsor, Shadow Hamilton
Second Place
Categories:
caldron, fantasy, love,
Form:
Abecedarian
Burping sulfurous fumes
its fiery belly heaves
and gas and ash erupt
knocking me to my knees.
Beneath the pumice beats
a throbbing heart of heat,
and I can feel its pulse
surging below my feet.
Treading on crackling skin
I weigh each step I take
or risk Icarus’s fate
and pay for my mistake.
I approach carefully
knowing that I could die
for beneath its chard brow
I spy the monster’s eye.
Mount Etna's dragon stirs
my imagination
as molten rock boils in
caldron of creation.
(Quatrain)
11/19/2015
Categories:
caldron, beautiful, earth, imagery, metaphor,
Form:
Quatrain
2/12/2017
RIZE
Air molecules bursting at the seams with hydrogen
A crafty fish could just about fly…draining a lil’ bit H2o through its gills…flitting from one molecule to another, while delightfully enjoying its very first aerial-panoramic perspective!
Caldron of Sun, heavy trudging through the almost misty air
Pushing, pushing, pushing…slowly forcing the horizon more and more south over the Atlantic Coast…Steaming moisture from the air whilst creating a larger and larger horizon of a grey and pink glow
Other forces of nature…shall not overcome the fiery center of our Universe... no, not this day! As more and more of the sea’s horizon is unveiled…a marbling of pink and at least three shades of grey
Oh, alas! A blank page is as to a new day, Yay! Another chance as the East, Atlantic sky widens faster and faster, forcing upward with increasing momentum, as the blue-white hot plasma forever-thirsty, drinks from the Milky Way Galaxy's precious molecules in its' atmosphere
Once again, I am but a grateful blessed witness
Jill Spagnola
Categories:
caldron, imagery, inspirational, nature,
Form:
Free verse
I've found a Haven, a hidden space to breathe
Where emotion permeates into a mistral breeze
So lofty are her cumulous clouds of inspired thoughts
Leading all who wander in to explore wondrous walks
Inside, lend an ear to whispers of notes and chords
Plunge into the caldron with the welcoming hordes
Now Chant...Bubble...Bubble...Toil...And Trouble
Stir, fold, blend, mash, whisk the undefined puddle
Then, find the round table where soup feeds solace
Let others feed you. Do not forego this key promise
Most of all, partake wholeheartedly in the collective conscious
Members, all Souls bare, will grace you in satisfying kindness
Categories:
caldron, thank you,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh so found; here I am two centuries into this recipe; within ironic caldron
The finest ingredients have been bestowed; in every friend found beyond
Based this broth on the deepest marrow of their love; careful memories thought
When it started to simmer they welcomed me; I was no forget me not
It's warmed by a glow from far away; behold this inferno of passion
I had become a vegetable; my thoughts had caused a bad reaction
Cut them on a souls keyboard; just added them into this life's consomme
Supporting; you are all around; found your limerence is beauty to me
Coming together with a spiritual rice, drop in dumplings of great
This PoetrySoup; you've all just been ladled a bowl; please be nourished; you all changed my fate
Categories:
caldron, friend, friendship, growth, happiness,
Form:
Free verse
An eerie mist spreads across the swampy moors,
At midnight's tolling hour, beware peasant or royal,
Whom travels the hidden roads and lost by ways, lit
From the light of the elliptical moon.
Here underneath illusions dark shroud, cryptic creatures
Revel in the shadows of mortal fear.
Stay upon the well-worn path my friends,
For evil specters, may lurk beneath the thickets wild,
Within the forest depths of undergrowth and evergreen.
Baba Yaga, appears from the vaporous fog,
Behold a withered old hag is she,
Wrapped in filthy torn rags discarded by society,
A wondering spirit of discord, feasting upon,
The souls of the innocent.
Accursed is she this vampiric witch, with the
Poisonous breath of whispering death, and smiling
At the bedsides of her deadened victims!
Lusts changeling of betrayals wounded heart,
A seductive temptress, enticing mankind’s mortal flesh,
With illusions of passions flame, seducing the weak,
Than possessing and consuming them utterly!
She whom blazed the trail for Hansel, and Gretel
Of legends folkloric fame.
Beware no candies sweet, does her house so rests upon,
But nay its skulls and bones remains piled mountain high,
What an alien looking thatched hunt, balancing upon
Giant chicken legs!
Singing in mischievous incantations, this darkened creature
Stirs her caldron pot black, tossing another poundage’s
Flesh and sinew into it just for tastes, good measure, as the
Wicked embers bite, at the chill in the evening air,
Laughing with a sinister cackle, dinner is almost ready,
Come along children of the light, I'm willing to share!
I'd dare not attempt to sneak a peek, inside if I were you.
All you God's faithful, and little children alike,
For in the woodlands wild, a mysterious phantom
Stalks the unseen path by night, and her name is Baba Yaga!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
caldron, adventure, fantasy, gothic, halloween,
Form:
Free verse
THE BLOOD MOON
In the crimson illusions of the blood moon,
The creatures of the night howl and swoon,
As the cursed emerge from hallows of the cryptic
Shadow realm, for it is the devil’s night, of incantations
Mystic spells, known as Sowen-Halloween!
Thin are veils expelled by this elliptical giant on high,
Turning into twisted illusionary phantoms, ghostly images
Of the past, melting as vaporous mists against this intrinsic
Shimmering opal ruby, hanging in the night’s sky above!
Trickery’s witchery cooking within the blackened caldron
Pot, a bitter sweet poisonous treat to feed the spoiled
Kindred of humanity!
Flight of the bat-winged vampiric do soar, reveling
In the crescent redden celestial body orbiting above,
Thirsts insatiable undead, flapping in the night gusts
Under currents these creatures of the evil demonic!
Hell hounds do bay at the unholy, this scarlet elliptical
Transfection mesmerizing these canid beasts of the
Accursed, banished by the flowering bud known
As the wolf-bang behold the devils bred, the werewolf!
In the harvesting graveyard, the unsanctified earth
Moves thus with a shakings dishevelment, as the
Soulless are disturbed within their unloosed soils
Deadened bedding, releasing the tormented,
Behold the rebirth of the zombies,
The walking undead!
In the scattering of the autumn leaves a crispness
Is sounded in a deafening breeze, as humanities
Children scrapper about beneath the blood moon!
Shouting trick or treat, smell my feet,
Give me something good to eat!
But on this specialist of haunted nights,
Others dwell within the darkness,
Waiting for the innocent to misstep into
Their realm of the unknown!
Be so aware human kindred, for tonight
Is Sowen-Halloween, and the blood moon
Does shines above!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
caldron, adventure, dark, fear, halloween,
Form:
Free verse
In the night the wolves howl in the distance,
As the spring lambs bay, with the first stirrings of life,
Close lies the pack of humanity, those for whom hunger for the
Fresh taste of the blooding’s first strike, at the throats of innocence
Most pure!
Have they gone suddenly silent, these yearlings tender lambs,
In the stilled quiet amongst the melting snows of winter,
The mountain fields run crimson, and an eerie stench oozing
Upon the winds of distain!
The cannibal lies within the forest of the towered halls,
In the giant fortresses of mankind, he does stalk amongst his own brethren,
No wolfed bite of treachery could leave such a mark of
Terror, as he the beast, whom would feast upon the raw flesh
Of his kindred kind!
A gentlemen chamleon blending amongst the tailcoats
Of learned men, sheathed within the amour of intelligence's,
A humanistic wolf moves flawlessly, within the herds of the
Meek and mild, to pick his victims of the city flock
At his leisure of desires pleasure!
Underneath the outstretched wings of the red dragon,
The bubbling caldron pot of truest evil, does runneth over,
With the gravy’s leavening's of the corruption and violence,
Welcoming this creature of the demonic to the dinning
Table of the unrighteous and wicked!
Black sheep, black sheep, do you have any wool,
The whittend lamb does ask, nay but in the woods
Therein, lies many go within the wolves din and take
What you like at your own risk of course, my innocent
Friend, but beneath the blackened skinned wool the
Wolf does smile, with a sheepish grinning!
In an extravagant restaurant a well-mannered gentlemen,
Orders the specialty of the house to go, later he adds
He adds his special ingredients, spiced to the taste
Buds of the cook himself, it sizzles with an unusual
Oromia of well-cooked human flesh, the cannibal
Smiles with delight at his culinary masterpiece,
As the police knock at his door, with a missing
Persons report!
In the jail cell of the lost souls, he the cannibal known
As Hannibal Lector has no regrets, except say one,
The meal he never got to finish!
In the night the wolves howl in the distance,
As the spring lambs bay, with the first stirrings of life,
Close lies the pack of humanity, those for whom hunger for the
Fresh taste of the blooding’s first strike, at the throats of innocence
Most pure!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
caldron, dark, fear, halloween, holiday,
Form:
Free verse
when winter comes and skeletons of trees
stand starkly upon the snow
i will think of you
and your head on my lap before the fireplace
skating on the gaunt, deep pond
where we made love on brighter days
hot chocolate and fired brandies
and standing at windows while flurries fell
when it is spring again and trees bear promises
as islands of snow die slowly in their shadows
i will think of you
when all was alive again and you believed in us
within the world of nest-making and streams going home
making bouquets of foothill flowers
constantly profaning the word “forever”
and imagining that winter was forever gone
when summer is upon me with sweltering wrath
i will come to the forest where we walked and
i will think of you
where we were prone beneath the well dressed limbs
in a canopy above us, fitted into one another like lovers
by the quarry lake where you were covered in beads of water
and the sun loved you and glistened upon your body
where i looked at you as one would view sunsets or miracles
autumn will come with all its dark omens and i will walk
upon the crisp leaves made spectacular by death
and i will think of you
where the earth wore its gaudy colors while ours had faded
into the murky hues of uneasiness and fear
and soon the trees will awaken alone and naked to the world
and i will understand their plight in a box called home
where once laughter lived and life was wonderful
there was a time before seasons and sentiment
when small, gentle hands covered my eyes with giggles
and you gasped, “oh, i’m sorry! i thought you were someone else!”
i smiled then and replied, “i am.”
it was the spring of us that led into the caldron of summer passion
before time and treasons took their toll
before reality and reason tore the glitter from our eyes
and our autumn came that condemned us to our winter
Categories:
caldron, dedication, lost love, love,
Form:
Free verse
Micro-Feasting
by Odin Roark
To propagate the dung heap of ignorance,
Is to place on low simmer
A main course of illiteracy.
How festive the chefs of mental starvation
Make the tables of 140-character-feasting,
Luring the gullible
Along with the lazy,
The doltish
And the lost,
To gorge, then purge,
Then ignore the noxious vapor
Of sentience becoming residue waste.
So stirs this caldron of abbreviated ingredients,
Stifling taste buds for savoring delectable elocution,
Reducing vocabulary to bulimic shorthand
And expecting all to join this achromatic work-around.
Hopefully, the language of full syllabic enunciation
Will return with a vengeance,
Sending expression’s drive-by expediency
Into its all too deserving exile.
Consideration pauses in the distance.
One can hear the echoes of dismay,
“Does this mean we’re expected to read…
AGAIN?
Categories:
caldron, language,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Witches, whom to say they don’t exist within the physical
Plain here on earth, maidens of the mystic arts of olden craft,
Dwelling beneath the elliptical moon of transitions shifting,
Living within the shadows of incantations unbroken spells
Of the past!
Damsels birthed beneath the oracles marking of the third
Eyes ethereal dimension, profits magi of the elemental,
Earth, wind, fire, water and air, these the guardians
Of the hidden magic within all living matter, both for
The seen and unseen raw forces of ultimate power!
Amongst this the season of the earthen dead,
These eyes of clarity’s shine, to the sheen of brilliance,
Dipping within the pools of illumination, the stirring
Caldron pot of fortune is uplifted, upwards towards the skies
Of the foretelling, behold the wicked crafts of the
Alchemists charmed.
At the flicker light of the green candle bents in the winds of destiny,
The dousing rod of fate is shone, as the crystal ball flame burns
Brightly against the night, held tightly is the covenant
Hands embraced within this mystical sisterhood and
Brotherhood, the shadows of darkness past ideally
By, for the earth balance must be kept on both
Ends level, the light and the darkness of spiritualism!
As the solid megaliths of Stone Hedge stand tall against
The setting suns horizon, echoes float from the farthest
Edges of the planet, a mystical rhythm of ancient times
Sounds thumping, with the natural essence of life itself,
As the earth witches of the world unite in this winter
Solstice of the season of the dead!
Within the circling orbs of reality, a twilight duality
Exists within the realm of the ethereal on a higher
Plain of knowledges recognition, and the reader
In the light of spiritualism, shines in the afterglow
Of the beyond his or hers physical awareness, a fifth
Sighted seeker, the gifted physic, or magi of the
Humanistic soul!
Witches, whom to say they don’t exist within the physical
Plain here on earth, maidens of the mystic arts of olden craft,
Dwelling beneath the elliptical moon of transitions shifting,
Living within the shadows of incantations unbroken spells
Of the past!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
DEDICATED TO MY MYSTIC ROSE
HAPPY HALLOWEEN SISTER OF THE HEART
Categories:
caldron, fantasy, halloween, holiday, horror,
Form:
Free verse
I’m a witch of the modern times,
Nay my caldron is not round but square,
It has four sides square, and it’s called a microwave.
No bubble, bubble toil or trouble, with this new
Modern age tool, I just add these mystical
Prepackaged ingredients, then sit there on my
Broom stick and drool.
Forget the bat wings, and the eye of nout,
I prefer the minute bag of hot popcorn instead,
Wouldant you.
I’m the wiz of a wiz with this squared box of
Miracles, from the mid-night munchies, to the
Commercial button pause freeze zone, on the
Talley blue screen.
There is no more a sacred sound ever heard
On this earth, then that dinging bell going off,
Then ever buddy scrambling to check out, what
Homemade goodies mom has cooked up?
Now the crook top is dandy, and the stove
Maybe handy for more flavor, or special
Occasions of the holiday persuasion,
But I prefer the minute satisfaction,
And gratification of this microwave
Magician.
My personal idea of home style cooking,
Is pierce the bags plastic top, and stir,
Then serve, boy that broke this fevers
Sweat, are you ready to eat my young ones.
Now in my spell books of cooking perfection,
There’s just no place to plug in this modern
Tools connection.
So these massive volumes are just dust
Collectors, but I have a dust buster for
This readies problem, I just have to pop
Dinner in the magic box first, before I can
Solve them.
So what will it be tonight my friend,
Pizza or Pasta surprise, with an Abracadabra’s
Ding, and a POP, I can feed a whole troop of soldiers,
Or a hungry family of five.
Just call me a modern wizard with technical
Support, the best invention of all times
My microwave caldron, with its four
Squared sides, excuse me please,
The bell just went off!!!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
DEDICATED TO MY DAUGHTERS AMANDA AND ASHLEY
And also to the inpatient animals of the world, thanks mom!
Categories:
caldron, food, kids, humor, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
Fireflies flicker and flutter beneath the dancing trees
exotic breezes whisk and whisper through limbs and leaves
The Golden Goddess of Garden Glen breaths evergreen
Her elfish essence is magic and Her spirit gleens
for it's merely a moment at the wonder She whiles
She wiggles and giggles and then She snickers and smiles.
She's not really a Goddess nor is She a Princess
She's more of a mystical, magical Enchantress
She is The Garden's gleaming, glistening Governess
a caldron song singer, a spell casting Sorceress
She starts with Her essence then stirs Her spirit divine
She drips dragon tears, then simmers slow with sweet sunshine.
Simple solution of spellbound myth and mystery
secretly sublime not found, hidden in history
not mountain high, valley low nor places in between
is the glowing gleen of The Garden Glen's evergreen
it is just East of the sun and Southwest of the moon
in a place where clouds and castles float and stars are strewn
entry date 7/26/2015
post date 7/05/2014
Categories:
caldron, fantasy, garden, giggle, imagery,
Form:
Alliteration