Best Channeled Poems
A final ugly bellow followed by the front door's slam and then. . .
the natural and sweet respite of silence.
She remained where he'd left her
and faced a pair of stony eyes staring back at her from the bathroom mirror.
Stoically she stood, anger-fingers pressed to the inside of the basin's rim.
A gall of indignation clutched at the inside of her throat.
Her whispered curses waxed into a scream, "I hate you. You bastard. I Hate You!"
Moments later. . . sad, kindred eyes met hers,
asking what they always asked, "How do you support this all these years?"
She gazed at the only one who truly knew and felt a rush of utter desolation.
Concentrated rage was channeled to a river of self-pity.
It spilled up and into the bile of her throat, erupting in her helpless gasps,
transforming into hard and bitter sobs,
and with this lament came gushing tears.
Nothing else existed but the woman in the mirror and the grief.
Some moments passed. She sniffled.
Further weeping now would take some effort.
She sighed the sigh of familiar resignation.
Glancing at her consort, red-eyed, in the mirror,
she turned the faucet on and dabbed a tear-streaked face.
The telephone was ringing, so as she went to get the phone,
she steeled herself
in case the flood had not entirely ebbed.
For the Catharsis Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron
Categories:
channeled,
Form:
Free verse
She painted cubes and angles
drowned in hues
of density and celsius pressures,
it was in part due
to her retrospect of comfortable sorrow,
the syndrome was complicated
by the distant shine
of a brilliant lover,
I remember her voice coming
to me like that of a
summer solstice
eagerly carressed by the lungs
of the bluejays
that would translate the technique
of blossoms
like it were their first language,
her fury was lush,
and she channeled it properly,
I'm positive shes negative
in an act thats sincere,
she is positively negatively
painting in gray today -
J.A.B.
Categories:
channeled, friendship,
Form:
Imagism
Hashish smoke trails her
along a dusky corridor
Aka the hall of fires
where mirage chimeras unleash
Encumbered with hands splayed
her crystal ball lumens
wires ghostly apparitions
mnemonic attachments
What mystery ensues
a phantasmagoria
of horror nudging
the demonic
Sitters drenched
in profuse sweat
fainting one by one
Alas unconscious
their fate met?
Coroners couldn’t ‘ve clarified
Described as an arctic chill
bolting across the sector
through each limp body
claiming mortality
As icy temps rise
Hypothermia responsible!
for the fatality, for their demise
Latter days professing onto
recordings of a gathering that took place
confessing that a séance
performed by a mysterious woman
in a trance—was the case.
The
Moon is waxing
First quarter crescent
The beckoning begins
Nodding, gurgling
Opening realms unseen
to the naked eye
Madame
Mystic, psychic,
a beguiling storyteller
and Medium
Down in a cellar, along with a Ouija
volumes of her writings discovered
delving into société espirita
The Goldilocks of the occults
Esoteric subjects,
a burgeoning interest
Astral travels,
unexplained laws of nature,
powers latent in man
Madame channeled
ascended masters
The Voice of the Silence
The Two Paths
The Seven Portals
"gifts" from the specters
This time Madame stands
to receive between intervals
and only he is seated
Warning him of dark spirits
a dimension outside
of our physical time-space reality
shadowing, making absence
of light a necessity
To invoke them
another nod
Continues unabated
Reveal the truth!
By sacred decree, by order
Behind the phenomenon
details of schemes came to light
Denounced as Black Magic
she was no longer to fright
Marked as a fraud
it all a façade
The moon is waning
Third quarter
Categories:
channeled, gothic, mystery,
Form:
Free verse
stillness …
save a twittering bird ...
hand on clarity, hardness -
fingers spread
opposing - jets of oily black octopus ink, (resembling)
decanted, manipulated, channeled
barbed circles coalesce
language as beauty?
as malleable substance?
oh, indeed ...
swirled and crimped with astonishing intent
into intricate spherical patterns
(of non-linear orthography)
hello ... what are you ...
your names ... mine
and ultimately, why -
why are you here?
can you feel me tremble?
can you sense that I sense how feeble a creature I am -
how formidable and dreadfully beautiful I find you?
are you as taken with my atomity
as I am with your grandeur?
can we find, here, amidst opalescence and ethereality
a place of concurrence?
(time is fluid)
can we weave a kinship from our difference?
(a divide as great as the ocean of suns that swims above us)
or are we, in our reciprocal ignorance
doomed to a tragic misreckoning?
pray not, that ...
for your awful, awesome elegance
and your fierce utterances ...
take my breath.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Strand Select D Any Form Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
channeled, beauty, fantasy, language, science
Form:
Free verse
The faiths that bind our righteous hearts
to the tenets of our devine
Principles placed to uphold our faith
are the grapes that grow from vine
Each woman and man has a light
they choose to see its shine
But rays cast down in many ways
yours is to you, and I've mine
To think God would leave it so
only one faith could show the way
Knowing the expanse that is this World
not only one book should have it's say
Perspectives are the windows from our homes
looking from seperate angles onto one street
The views are of varied degrees
No one house stands alone on concrete.
These books we follow are guides, not gallows
our lives are precious treasure
Blood should never be spilled "for God"
killing conflicting faiths for good measure
Crusades, Jihad....a terrible way to worship,
this is not what God intended
The life given to us is a gift we share
this was never meant to be contended
Bible, Torah, Koran...
Ten Commandments, Sabbath, Mecca, Baptism, Ramadan...
list goes on and on
Wine and wafer, dont eat pork, dont eat....
These are all semantics
Rituals of our perspectives
God chose to reach us in different ways
Channeled prophets to carry his voice
Each corner of the earth
in voices we could comprehend
But these were the voices of men...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The paths we walk intertwine at the destination
Categories:
channeled, faith, philosophygod, god, perspective,
Form:
Free verse
It is the house of consciousness
channeled from above
It is the home where dreams reside
The cozy place of love
Invisible, intangible
distinct from flesh and bone
commingled with the breath of life
brought forth by God alone
The coverings that we can see
the body, clothes and hair
can misdirect the human eye
from treasures buried there
Ravaged by disease and time
with battle scars to show
The human mind is prone to find
some judgment to bestow
Our love is often limited
to what we see and feel
and carelessly we overlook
what outer shells conceal
The loveliness of human flesh
does not increase one's worth
No man can judge the value
of a single life on earth
To take a closer look in faith
should be our common goal
for deep within each person lies
the beauty of the soul
Categories:
channeled, beauty, inspirational, life, spiritual,
Form:
Rhyme
A true-love gone to tears,
As lost-love came to be.
Sandy writes her heart out,
Through her love of poetry.
Her ex and her children,
Moved to a different state.
When left all alone it caused,
Her aching heart to break.
With a flood of memories,
Of the past and all its’ hurts.
She embedded all her pain,
In the stanzas of her work.
Her heart channeled through,
The writings of her pen.
Describing the life of love,
That she was living in.
She had found true-love,
But the love did not last.
Sandy Schermerhorn loves,
Writing the romantic past.
____________________________
Dedicated to Sandy Shermerhorn,
for her constant support and her
love of romantic poetry.
Categories:
channeled, dedicationromantic, heart, heart, love,
Form:
Quatrain
Zillion supporters screaming, a loud buzz,
Yearning to return home cheered by victory.
Xerox machines preparing the next day’s papers; Max
Wit for the shame or fame of a member of the show.
Violent vitriol from commentators like engine rev
Unites with supporters’ glee at likes of Eto’o or Kanu
To spur skill at each minute to get even one stunning stunt
Spirits soar, sink, so it is, for here serenity bores.
Roulette, lifté, counter-attack by one party raising the roar.
Quick kick! Oh no! Replay?! Why not? That must join the FAQ
Pray the corner kick slays the opponent; oh that header was sharp!
Oh he missed that goal again! No replay?! Hell no!
No! Now he’s channeled that ball too late for the man,
May the coach coach correctly and call him to quit the team!
Leave the pitch you little loss-bringing imp! LOL!
Khaki-wearing “messer” I can even get your reek!
Just as our jests are about to milk out laughs, I couldn’t find a word to end with “J”.
Instead I had a whole lot of them J-starting words. So I
Hunched to think, but then looked up at the BROOHAH:
GOAL GOAL!! Oops the scorer is the "Mr. Bug"!
Fooled? No, I’m still for him leaving,( Scoring oaf!)
Even though this elation, release and joy, came from his device!
Defensive tactics, offensive backing up, I can almost get mad
‘Cos the best defense is attack Doc!
Bye losers, we took this easy. Supporters bob
Away, and the whole stadium sleeps in the starlight bathed by mother Luna.
(c) Nyonglema
Categories:
channeled, cheer up, culture, encouraging,
Form:
Abecedarian
While wand'ring ghost town scenes of memories
Loose mind like shutters bang in channeled thoughts
Old haunting spirits restless and distraught
Now roam deserted streets like tumbleweeds
Dirt devils funnel, scattering dead seeds
As rattling chains of broken bonds stretch taut
Dark tortured faceless shadows, though not sought
Appear in screenless windows taunting me
Behind saloons in alleys where we played
Lie trash cans spilled of hope and broken dreams
Discarded remnants of relationships
Have all but disappeared from time's decay
Those youthful days spent by the sun dried stream
Are now recalled in silent somberness
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Categories:
channeled, angst, memory,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
When Paradise Returns
That first year we cursed
the flood, channeled from
the border creek and basin of lakes
that added their support
King tides gave flux to sheets
of water, rising silently after falling,
following the low-lying land
spilling once again between
the waiting paperbarks
Our cattle, cut off from us, stood
utterly dejected - birds came
with the sounds of pardise,
re-claiming their natural habitat
That next year we waited with
the paperbarks, watching for the birds
to fill the wetland
waiting for them to fill the silent
fields again
EARLY DECEMBER 2018,ANY FORM,ANY THEME,UPTO A MAX OF 20 lines
Contest Judged: 12/3/2018 11:40:00 PM
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
First Place
Categories:
channeled, bird, change, earth, nature,
Form:
Free verse
I had this dream since childhood that motivated me,
I admit it’s hard, but no one ever said it wouldn’t be.
As I seek for my strengths, waiting patiently deep inside,
From life’s obstacles, there’s no reason to hide.
See I knew I had to go deep within my soul for God’s wisdom to transform,
Only way to do this is to accept Jesus as my personal savior to be reborn.
In my past I had so many countless frustrations but I didn’t let them intimidate me.
Instead I channeled those frustrations to strengthen me, and break the chains of agony.
As I’m reminiscing about the past, I’m stuck in the present and pondering what the future has in store for me.
Making that childhood dream into a reality lets me know that my trapped aspirations are free.
In life I understand sometimes things don’t go our way,
Thanks be too God that I have more good days than bad days
Because with my faith and hope I’m stronger I can last much longer
In life we have to take a stand and make our steps became stronger than before
Be encourage, be that lion, and let them hear you roar!
Isaiah 41:10 fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Categories:
channeled, encouraging, faith, inspirational, strength,
Form:
Rhyme
Few Words, Few pictures, News
Thousand narrations to same story
Every day a new story
…
Journalism, an art to write
Whether truth is perceived or false
None care, just write it.
…
Coverage of war or peace
Hidden remains the agenda of brokers
Cameraman with presenter on TV
…
What is shown, repeat telecast?
Same images, and same footage again
As seen on cable TV
…
Magazine, periodicals, articles and letters
People read and contribute searching truth
Some are victims, others spectators
…
Morphed I did see, pictures
Some well crafted, some under bad hands
Every agency has a news
…
Reports, articles, statistics and surveys
Core contents of the daily news papers
2 page news, rest advertisements.
…
New flash, breaking news and updates
Presidential speeches, parliament debates and reality shows
Twenty four seven TV channeled
…
Melodies, drums and orchestra played
Dramas, shows, politricks and business
Echoing; let the shows begin.
…
FT, BBC, CNN, News corp. Siasat
Created, supplied, edited, published, blogged, or uploaded
Chinese whisper crawl in their veins.
…
28.29/04/10
Categories:
channeled, allegory, death, dedication, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
My silent serene soul softly craves your candles of crystalline calm.
Your gallant greens of golden glow gently beam with bumbles, bashing blissful thoughts in a thundering whisper.
Our chemistry and connection is madly enchanted in ethereal crimson certainty of nectar's new dawn.
I want to own the oceans and you like I hold my butterflies and beliefs.
Rumple my radiant lips on silhouette sheets of your secret shoulder yard, leaving amaranth art of kisses on your lavender chest.
Letting your spikes of spices chase me into a search of serenity.
You are my wind in the wild storm.
The whisperer, wanderer in my mystical melodies.
You are the tempting thoughts in my tempestuous tides, thrilling the turbulent twilight of my heavenly heart.
The mesmerizing midnight memories in the infinite brain of my independent heart.
I'm nightfall without your luminous laughter.
I'm dateless without your conducive calendar of pink promises.
I'm the death of a wasteful war and torn tears from the endless screams.
Be the pondering puzzles of my relentless reasoning.
The savoury solitude in my sour soul.
The hibiscus honey and roasted peanuts in my poetic pantry.
My rustling reckless reflection in muttered excuses.
And I'll be your rainbow, your Rosa Juliet.
Your chocolate cosmos. Your scout for love in the jungle of jasmine spring.
I have fondly found fleeting fragrances of happiness from the ryhming rheum in your eyes. It is daring densely, hallucinating hazardously, making me stare still till I blindly bleed in haphazard hues.
Till eternity my love, your secret silence is the riff in every song. It is the splash of every sound. The hair on my stirred skin. The pulchritudinous phases of pain in astrological agony.
Stand, stand my sublime king so thou shalt see the height of my love for thee.
Listen, listen my charming prince so you shall hear my painting in every voice.
So you can feel the breathless bath of the present and the tickle in the tapestry of our voiceless vows, viciously channeled through the thighs of our bond and the sync of your seductive grasp.
So I can smell the wind of your hands slowly stroking my sensitive skin and the attention of my hairs saluting your stemless grasps.
My soul critically craves you my workshop and I your tools.
Categories:
channeled, angel, beautiful, beauty, deep,
Form:
Alliteration
At rising dawn of man we were acquainted with the flame
Then our clockwork devices channeled nature's force made tame
But there is one more energy which flies in a realm higher
Once love is harnessed we shall have again discovered fire
Categories:
channeled, birth, destiny, fire, life,
Form:
Rhyme
My mind just seems so out of sorts
but still I long to write
I struggle for the words inside
with every phrase a fight
Forcing creativity
anxieties accrue
For fear of losing something else
I've grown to love so true
Maybe if I had a way
to trace my steps through time
I could find the trigger point
that changed my paradigm
When balance of my mind and soul
somehow seemed to shift
and channeled creativity
went suddenly adrift
I haven't figured out as yet
just how I got off track
but oh the joy I'll feel inside
when all my rhyme comes back
Until then I'm stuck inside
my head and feel so numb
nothing seems the way it should
when the words won't come
Categories:
channeled, poetry, words, writing,
Form:
Rhyme