Best Caves Poems
Smiling hotly you're the flame captured underneath
burning with a sunrise golden gleam frosted
Sparkling within dewdrops crystals crash
over oceans waves rise and fall to grace
At your feet adoring they kiss salt saluting promise
kneeling upon the sand footprints hold ground held
Those inside one thousand memories wrapped forever
perfect jewel you are the pearl of a deep sea always crowned
Lustre of one rainbow washed clean cut perfect flower
white lily from the heart of love you brought peace
Our hearts have chambers, four in all;
like caves, they are defined and seen.
But there are hidden caves within
where our emotions live between.
The Cave of Love, the largest one,
is filled, but sometimes shuts its door.
Much better to keep it ajar
so give and take can flow, restore.
And next to it, the Cave of Faith;
it feeds our hearts with gifts of trust
in God, our Earth and those we love;
and also in ourselves, a must.
Along with Faith, the Cave of Hope
puts sunshine in our hearts so bright,
that lifts us up no matter what,
through sunny days or dark of night.
The Cave of Service in our heart
is filled with help to fellowman;
must keep its contents flowing out...
a part of our survival plan.
At last, the Cave of Thankfulness
provides an echo loud and strong.
Our hearts get fuller with the joy
when gratefulness sings its sweet song.
Heart chambers hold the beat and flow
that keep our bodies so alive.
But unseen caves where "heartfelt" lives,
our magic inner selves survive.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Premiere Contest: 2019 Marathon Mile 16
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Judged: 02/05/2019
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Caves
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Judged: 08/07/2016
Cloistered in this cavern where chandeliers hang crystalline
Adorning the vaulted ceilings to which
Varicolored stalagmites have so slowly climbed - I find
Exquisiteness etched by time -
Seclusion's serenity.
For Line Gauthier's 'Bite Size Poem no11' Poetry Contest
Once lit by flickering torch light
with animal tallow mixed with ocher
daubed on subterranean rock walls
now lit by streetlights or LED headlamp
slashes of spray paint and magic markers
splattered on concrete bridge abutments,
boxcars, or walls of tenement ghettos,
but the message is the same
we were here.
Are dark and spooky
water drips, bats hang around
there might be ghosts too.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Jan.10/2015
Ghost Adventures is about the Bell Witch in Tennessee.
I burrow in silence locked in the depths of a grave.
I need no more guidance as I dwell in my hollow cave.
Unknown whispers…they creek and moan and I am left breathless
trying to pick up the pieces of my last transgression. I’ve been here before. I’ve gained and I’ve lost and somewhere in between I remain
unstable. I want to dig a deep hole to bury my head. It would be
covered in soil and would reek of regret.
Above the grass yet below the trees I live in a cavern made of clay and hard stone. It shadows each memory and releases all the reasons
why I hate myself. Please...no more thinking about the reasons I
need to stay alive. I ask the cold stone why I am left to
starve in such darkness made by my own hands. He tells me I forgot
how to be sane and my mania needed to take a break. I created a
world of flashbacks leading to my miserable life. Each
flashback contains less joy and each time of joy makes me shutter
in ugliness. I am undeserving of such things.
Under the brink of my life lies understanding of why I have been abandoned by everyone I know. They all say I am worthless and mean
nothing to them. I agreed with them and left as soon as the twilight hit midnight and before the dew spread across the land. I cry
out to the constellations and ask for forgiveness of my
mistakes made intentionally. I am nothing but a sorry cause ready
to take flight on top of a black dove. White doves are pure and innocent. Black doves are a reflection of my poor soul. I have seen the depth of this
cavern for so long I think I am turning into a man without
a thought. No eyes to see inside a home of obscurity. Murky and
dusty I feel so alone that I wish to breathe no more. It’s so stuffy in the
shadows. The fog outside tries to shield me from the bitterness of my resentments, but it carries not enough strength to achieve such a goal.
I have nothing more to give and no more reasons to live.
I have so much to forgive and please one more sedative.
I have no more lies to spill and no more time to kill.
I have no more cries to thrill and no more rhyme to quill.
-there is no more hope inside your soul when you’re a caveman.
Caves Contest
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Date Written: August 3, 2016
In my dark deep caves of sorrow
I have the walls painted with tears,
Lonely I stand there with no hope
Tormented with unwanted fears.
Restless regrets roam and reside
In my dark deep caves of sorrow,
I exist as withered autumn
There is no spring for tomorrow.
Roses, reminded me of you
Now uprooted since you were gone,
In my dark deep caves of sorrow
My life is caged has not moved on.
With broken heart I feel disturbed
Some peace I wish, I could borrow,
Ashes of faith are now buried
In my dark deep caves of sorrow.
This poem has been published in 2019 in my poetry collection
"Far in the Meadows and other poems" by Meenakshi Raina
CONTEST 208 any form, any topic max of 16 lines - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Poem written on: August 4, 2016.
CAVES AND CAVERNS Acrostic
Caves since ancient days provide
A safe den for animals to find,
Violent or timid being of any kind
Even haven for primitive humankind.
Shelter by Nature primarily defined
Aesthetic art in drawing-painting engraved
Naïve human carved scripts on walls of cave,
Designed illustration of prehistoric era saved.
Cavern the deep extension of cave dug by Nature,
Accommodating, protecting hidden treasure to nurture.
Varied colored hanging icicle stalactite with tips pointed,
Erect upward grown stalagmite tips rounded.
Running water yields wax-like stones, crystalline pool spar to explore.
Normal mineral deposits of water drips in walls, ceiling or floor
Spectacular wonderful exhibit of Nature to enjoy and adore.
08/05/16
Edited on 04/10/20
Third Place
'STRAND PICK 7' Contest by Brian Strand
Airless Man Caves
by Odin Roark
We love to beat ourselves up.
We venture out from our cavern of dread
to once again feel the frustration of looking
for that special dance partner
in an empty ballroom,
our sanity always on the verge of…
Yes, that’s what we do.
We look for a finite connection,
for the single answer
to suffering’s multiple questions.
How adolescent our bravura
as we trust the armor
fortifying our exposed heart
to always fend off
any conspiratorial emotions,
buried childhood remembrances,
parental battles with each other and you.
How real-time naive we remain,
conceptualizing happiness
without a willingness to pay a personal price,
a real experience beyond the concept of love,
where we learn full enjoyment of pleasure
is bundled expertly with experienced pain.
We wonder how our heart can be aflame,
but never open because starting fires
is the only passion we understand.
Or…
Upon losing ourselves in the excitement,
the euphoric possibility that “this is it,”
we continue avoiding the first glimpse
of our inherent and delicate vulnerability,
the tripping lever that sends us packing.
How persistent the obsession,
our battling the dread of intimacy
while remaining infatuated with possibilities,
rejecting reality that commitment
requires acceptance of an end game.
But, oh how seductive the rear-view mirror,
that ever present tool of caution,
ever ready to warn us of danger,
only to be ignored in the heat
of our high-speed commitment
to self-rage.
Our crash and burn habit
is often the only way
to chalk up another entry,
into our victimization syndrome.
For we create the same arrogant bluster
over and over,
allowing frustration to turn into anger
into self-loathing,
into sucking all the oxygen
out of our man-cave.
There is another alternative, however…
Step outside our cave of conceit.
Avoid the suffocation of false pride.
Take a deep breath of what’s beyond just us.
Epiphanies await the courageous.
With their haunting beauty and calamitous construct
The captivating caves opprobriously obstruct
Ambient anguish heinously hidden
Humbling hearts trapped and love forbidden
Hemispherical hindering in the caves of ice
Where the solace of sorrows silently suffice
Terminal tentacles of the tyrannical snow queen
Quenching her thirst in the salivating smoke screen
Efficacious echoes of loves demise
Suffocating screams surveil and agonise
Benevolent breaths frantically forever frost
Within the caves of the lachrymal lost
As the winter wanders and whimsically waves
For my soul surrenders to the Caliginous Caves.
Aug.04.2016
Caves - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
There's a place where men love to go
To explore dark moist caves
The deepest, moistest caves known to man
A most favourite spot they crave
If you're not in shape it can make ya sweat
But how amazing to succumb
Deep in the heart of these dark moist caves
You must try it you really must come
If your mind's down in the gutter my friends
Wasn't talking about sex you see
Had ya fooled, was talking about travel
To the Lost Sea Exhibit, Tennessee!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Peeping from the caves
Situated at the top
Of the highest peak
Caves are dark, dank, sinister havens for rising damp
Mere cavities in the ground, veiled from light of day
Yet caves are heralded, admired and cherished
For a swarm of reasons, just mind the bats
Caves are drop inns
Hikers and natives welcome finding a cave
They provide shelter from wind and rain
A great place to stay the night, light a fire
To enjoy the cosy charm of safe seclusion
Caves are art galleries
The walls are dotted with new and ancient graffiti
Hand-prints, paintings, scribbles and scenes
Made by artists with no where else to hang their stuff
Revealed by flickering flames and dim filtered beams of light
Caves are museums and dumps
Visitors leave their junk in caves
Animals topple in and get trapped
Caves are a great place for animals to die
These dumps are bliss to archaeologists
Who drool over skeletons, artefacts and such old-time junk
Caves are cathedrals and awe-catches
Endless aeons of dirty drips yield fabulous
On floor and ceiling displays of
Glistening stalactites and stalagmites
The cavernous space, silence and eerie dankness
Makes visitors gasp with adoration and awe
Highlighted by the uniqueness, isolation and remoteness of caves
So duck-in to a cave when you pass one by
and you'll discover the ins and outs of caves
Caves are awesome and strangely welcoming
Despite their darkness, dampness and malevolence
They spend their time in the caves,
keeping themselves warm around
bonfires, while narrating stories
of how the outside world is dangerous.
The bonfires are always existent,
as long as the cave dwellers keep
on saying how the outside world is
dangerous. Fear of the outside world
has always kept them warm,
with a sense of protection.
Bats, rats and echoes is all they know
in the caves. They don't know any
oceans, skies, sun, seasons, grass.....
They only know what's inside the caves;
shelters for their insecurities.
Some people from the outside world
have tried to remove them from the caves,
but with little or no success. Fears that are
in their thoughts are afraid of fading
into the fresh, vast, liberating space of the
outside world.
Comfort of the bonfires' warmth
keep the cave dwellers closely knit,
as they feed their fears with narratives
that only exist in their imaginations....
Caves
truth as tiny drops of water
hangs onto roofs,
waiting to nurture thoughts
creeping on dark floors,
Strange mind caves...
till flash of bright sunlight
traverses through,
for negativity to vanish
and sets dormant ideas aglow,
Strange mind caves ...
Written August 5th, 2016
For contest "Caves"
Judged on Aug 7th, 2016
Awarded N/A
Now entered for contest "Take the dagger from my heart please"
Sponsor- Broken wings