Best Chinks Poems
POTD 2 July 2018
Humans are capable of ‘Changing their State’. At times, a stressful, negative fusillade can be encountered from an individual wishing to subvert a person for whatever reason.
Lady Gaga so aptly describes this in her video clip above - and she should know through experience.
Kindness is a sentiment no one can ultimately reject.
Hard to do you say? - It’s easy.
Firstly, refuse your alter ego permission to react immediately.
(Your alter ego is programmed to protect your from a ‘painful’ situation)
The brain is a Bio-computer and can easily be reset to ‘Default’ by breathing into your abdomen (not into your lungs), - hold and then exhale, each action performed slowly to the count of 6.
Accusatory fingers pointing ~ eyes glowing hate
Seeds of venom spewing forth slanderous lies
Jealousy in all its inglorious green eyed splendor
Wool clothed wolves with undetectable smiles
Any tick of the clock it creeps up upon you
Evil plays no favorite it’s any man’s game
Seeming to push you up that stairway of victory
Then perniciously denigrates ~ disavowing any blame
Damned if you do ~ Damned if you don’t
Kindness perceived as weakness gets cast out the door
Tendencies to vacillate creates chinks in your armour
Resolutely walk the tight rope ~ lest your knees hit the floor
Eyes wide shut to the Evil all around us
Detach from this Chaotic Web in which we dwell
Be the Peace that ceaselessly penetrates the darkness
YOUR prerogative is to choose either ~ Heaven or HellPOTD 2 July 2018
Categories:
chinks, inspirational, uplifting,
Form:
Rhyme
In Ordinary Cups
The blades of winter grind into the ice
like blood on a bitten lip
two lovers spin and twirl
The days pass from teacup to teacup
in the peaceful silence of a solitary nest.
From gentle easy sunrise through sheer white
to the subtle fall of accordion night.
The echoes of childish laughter tremble
across the cracked surface of plaster walls.
Random squeaks in oaken floors return
the footfall of father, coming and going.
Long lost cat's paw prints impress carpet
dragons from Shanghai with ghostly ease,
and every loved and loving one returns
in peace, to rest beneath the tapping fingertips
upon a porcelain cup of tea from China.
11/9/10
Re-formed for Roy the Verse BELOW
The Teetotaler
The blades of winter grind into the ice, flirting
with the rosy cheek of puppy love, snow-crusted mittens
cling, like chapped skin on bitten lips; scarfs twirl; they spin.
As steam rises from the cup, reminisce, the first kiss,
across swamp-grass hummocks, rotten ice, lace tripping
with the rosy cheek of puppy love; snow crusted mittens
cling. Black hair, fair skin, Irish-eyed, he cajoles a grin.
In the steam, not the leaves, she remembers him
across swamp-grass hummocks, rotten ice, lace tripping;
they spin. Assam seeps in porcelain, another cup
she pours. In an empty nest the cup clinks saucer,
in the steam, not the leaves, she remembers him.
From sunrise through fall of white, she sees the mist
falling accordion-like into chinks of memory.
She pours. In an empty nest, the cup clinks saucer.
The recollections of youthful laughter cut, tremble,
across the cracked surfaces of her mind's walls
falling accordion-like into chinks of memory.
Random squeaks in the oaken floors recall returns,
these images mist swirl from the tea-of family,
across the cracked surfaces of her mind's walls.
A long lost cat walks shrouded through silent the scene
in peace, they rest beneath her tapping fingertips
these images mist-swirl from the tea-of family,
Every loved and loving one returns mist-born
within a porcelain cup of tea from China;
in peace, they rest beneath her tapping fingertips.
3/21/15
Categories:
chinks, memory,
Form:
Terzanelle
POTD 4th Nov 2019
Vanquishing all reservation
twilight's prelude heralds
shadowy anticipation
of a secret amorous thirst
He surrenders once more
to his darkest desires
amplifies the sultry ambiance
with star spangled bursts
A slave in her entity
tremulous in her splendour
Captivating and illuminating
this shadowy tryst
yet her heart beats not in rhythm
to the songs he composes
she dismisses him once more
Saying… ‘it is what it is’
However, through chinks of his ardour
ebbing resplendence
Predominant primacy
hard to resist will persist
refusing to believe …’it is what it is’
refusing to believe …’it is what it is’
The intricacies of love
too difficult to fathom
Her preference mismatched
he cannot define
her daily mantra
heightens sensations
reserved for the one
who appears to outshine?
Nothing but ineffectual
is her discordant course
the unyielding reality
of it drives him insane
and through the ebbing darkness
she hears him screaming ….’it is NOT what it is
It is Not what it is’
No satin ropes will tether
her cosmic line of duty
No romantic soft liaison
would induce her to stay
Tremulous and tender
her love cruelly wanders
from his romantic serenade
she turns her light away
Succumbs to his enemy…Day
whispering softly…. ‘it is what it is
It is what it is’
POTD 4th Nov 2019
Categories:
chinks, conflict, desire, passion, romance,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
From blade of grass to the tip of twig,
The white dust of winter fall’s.
Frenzied flakes move in lost abandonment,
Finally pitch on fence and wall’s.
On the throat the rasping of cold crisp air,
The sound of snow crunching underfoot.
As the day grows short , and night draws in,
Now the journey homeward took.
Familiar shapes come into view,
There outlines soften by the snow.
What once were roofs ,now don white overcoats,
With ice jewellery now on show.
The old mill wheel lies motionless,
So still the little stream.
Held fast by Jack Frost clutches,
In a Christmas greeting scene.
Chinks of light through windows,
Gives some comfort and delight.
Cast a beam with an incandescent glow,
On white grains as they glisten bright.
At the door the latch clicks open,
And with thud is now latched again.
Keeping winter firmly on the out side,
withIn, thoughts of summer to retain
Categories:
chinks, inspirational, life, nature, seasonswinter,
Form:
Monet's Impression, Sunrise
First impressions leave memories
that can linger for a very long time
and give a sense of peace and understanding
that rewards the solitude of the mind
with satisfaction in contemplative reflection.
This may be deceiving and can mislead one to believe
that which is right may, in fact, be wrong.
Graciously accept the artist’s shared perception
that there is no ambiguity, only a warning
of the impending storm threatening prevalent reasoning.
The ascending sun, with its reflection on the water,
highlights a sense of direction as the rowers row
across the harbour at the break of morn.
Past cranes and derricks and ships at anchor
beneath a smoke-blurred fiery sky, accented
by pastel shades of blue to create the sombre mood
that expresses Monet’s "Impression, Sunrise" painting
and shares with the onlookers his representation
of nature from an Impressionist’s point of view
in the Industrial Age, heralding in the revolution.
That begs the question, “Where are they going,
and why blood orange?” (Oh, but I’ve seen that colour before.)
Day-to-day inquiries are asked of one another and strangers.
Monet incorporates an art form using oils on canvas,
forcing the audience to observe with curiosity,
thus presenting a sliver of time of life’s tranquillity at sea.
This provocation of thought chinks the consciousness
of seasoned connoisseurs who see change as frightening
and challenges their manipulation of artistic output
(to act like mechanical agents thwarting creativity).
“Will they reach their destination? Will it be as they hoped for?”
Hurry! Though calm, the waters will soon froth in labour.
***
Note:
“Monet’s Impression, Sunrise” is an ekphrastic poem referencing the painting “Impression, Sunrise” (1872) by Claude Monet (1840–1926).
Categories:
chinks, art, change, culture, education,
Form:
Verse
I stood on the cliff and asked the wafting clouds exultantly,
"You greet me every morn, you watch me through
My windows and peer through the chinks,
You have been a mystical part of me through
My childhood when I skipped and jumped with friends
And through my confusion and confidence in adulthood.
What does the future behold for a dreamy me?"
The sky seemed bluer in the cloudscape and I heard echoes
" In the labyrinth of choices your future is sown in........your future is sown in
Your cherished dream was an unbelievable reality................believable reality
A kaleidoscopic ride after the nature you've churned out for self..........for self
An investment in optimism has enveloped you in calmaria..............in calmaria
Enjoy the fruit which is multiplying with interests......................with interests".
May14, 2015
For Skat A
Any Poem You Are Proud of # 3
(May 10, 2016
For Nayda Ivette Negron)
*Calmaria (Spanish)- after a storm comes calm
Poem is in a dialogue form; the second verse is an end line word poem.
Categories:
chinks, beautiful, change, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Hearing the waters
Translucent lavender flow
Imagination
Enriched blind, senses kick in
Silence abounds, clothes in fall
Naked to bare dip
Porcelain to porcelain
Glass of champagne chinks
Lapping ripples in caress
Submerged delights allure me
Patiently I wait
Her cue, for me to approach
Encroach, I go through
Eyes, eye, tanned undulations
When said bubbles dissipate
Categories:
chinks, beautiful, beauty, i love
Form:
Tanka
Chinks of blue play peek a boo ,
Among the snow pearls of gray .
Stained glass windows to the heavens above ,
Upon this winters day.
Snow flakes in a frenzy fall ,
So delicate as fine lace.
In caressed like dreamy kisses,
Tickle hands and face.
Scarlet are the berries bright,
Against leaves of emerald green.
In sharp contrast against the snow,
Upon this winter scene.
For time draws near for tonight the eve,
When Santa drives his sleigh.
And those of us, who still believe,
Gives praise for Christmas day.
In a momentary silence,
I look to the sky this night.
In a thought of three wise men,
And a star that was burning bright.
My heart still full of wonder,
Brought forth by festive cheer.
And in hopes of what tomorrow brings,
Will last again all year.
? N Windle 2015
Categories:
chinks, allusion, blessing, childhood, christmas,
Form:
Couplet
I sat beneath a Veteran-oak,
In awe of His strength—
Here was a solid spirit!
Sympathy you get from Willow,
But stiff upper-lip from old soldiers,
With forged bark —
His limbs flexed, cut, rippled against the wind…
No chinks in this warrior-wood…
“Divide and Conquer!”
Then I thought of my Father—
A cook at the end of the war—The Big One!
You know the One I mean, as if there are small ones—
When the commanders were through eating
He was instructed to toss the leftovers
From the belch of plates—
Trashcans were in the alley,
The steel that seems intrinsic to battles
In one form or another—
The hungry German children
Would sneak pass the guards
And line-up;
My father would sneak pass his superiors
And his honor
To dispense carefully wrapped scraps…
Well, soon the line was out into the street
As my father was compelled to seek food
From wherever he could steal, beg or barter
To procure—This brought attention—the cat-out-of-the-bag,
And all hell down on my father,
As the captain screamed: Gus, these are the enemy (the children in the alley),
What in God’s Name are you doing?
He was forced to stop—no Court Marshal though…
I looked up again at the old oak,
Through the snarled branches
Deep into the staunch soldier,
Where I spied a nest
In a small, compact fork—
Having a canopy of extra leaves
For shade and shelter from the wind—
I smiled—hum…
His bark reddened, but like my father, no apology from this weathered soldier…
Categories:
chinks, allegory, allusion, father, history,
Form:
Free verse
The mistral cold wind blew incessantly wild,
Winding in the streets, its glacial currents in and around
The apartment blocks where all frosted windows
Were tightly secure. Still the bleak wintry chill entered
From tiny ruptured chinks and spread inside
Annihilating the miserly heat emitted
By old cranky air conditioners and gas heaters.
Occasional bursts of strong wind blew
Some soft snow up like winnowed chaff.
One hopes the homeless found some place to rest.
Categories:
chinks, winter,
Form:
Free verse
You are my warrior.
The fighter, my own.
Let me be your armour,
And never outgrown.
I cry for you, warrior,
Or one day I might.
If you, gentle lover,
Are called up to fight.
For you would be taken,
With no time to think.
And see in your armour
The slightest of chinks.
A chink which could open
The door for just one
Arrow, or spear...
Or kiss from a gun.
Categories:
chinks, war
Form:
Rhyme
out here in too bright sunlight squinting in hand shade through sun burnt lashes
details hide in black shadowed faces haloed in the bright of day as memories flicker of other
days on city streets when heads held high were feared and turned on and eyes to pavement was
a hope to make it through the day without a fight.
Unless of course one bore the daily pain to build a bloody rep and even then sun could shine too
brightly exposing weaknesses in chinks that loved the shade.
To smile into the sunlight blind, shifting gravitational center on each step prepared and readied
for whatever the moment brings and trusting in oneself to deal with it again.
Categories:
chinks, childhoodday, sun,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
The clumsy beauties come knitted to the yard,
Slithering on the dewy glassy grass,
As usual.
Two mongooses in natty brown coats
Are looking for the fare scrap, if any thrown out.
The dawn window creaks as it opens its eye,
And Master Babu darts out to enact
His typical character with stones.
Forgiveness is their emblem, the mongooses
Return in the dawns, making Babu busy.
As these brown emperors reign among shrubs,
Serpents keep miles away: the brown saviours.
But Babu stoops to the pelting raptures,
Then the mongooses retreat into the chinks.
Yet, their presence is felt in the intermittent shriek.
The wild plants nod and one mongoose comes without
Its mate this dawn, "Where is the other?”.
Babu dashes out, but picks not stones up.
Every hole and every nook in and out the yard,
Master Babu seeks on.But he returns in fatigue,
Scuffling his shoes on the back of despair.
Next days also, he seeks the missed like a man.
Thus he seeks and grows…………………….
FABIYAS M V
Categories:
chinks, animals, childhood, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
Why do you tempt me with mischievous eyes
Playful and naughty; do they tell or dare?
Are you an angel, devil in disguise,
Should I be trustful, or should I beware?
Why do you tempt me with a winsome smile
Not all-revealing, but denoting more.
Chinks in my armour ... should I stay awhile?
Fatal attraction which I can’t ignore.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, stay awhile and find out what you will
My eyes reveal the pleasures that await
Take off that armor if you want this thrill
You know your hunger only I can sate
So take a risk, and bare to me your all
If angel or if demon, do you care?
Into my searing arms you’re meant to fall
Now take a step, move forward, if you dare!
Paul Callus and Eileen Manassian Collaboration
December 11, 2017
Categories:
chinks, passion,
Form:
Rhyme
Atrocious guard of Darkness
And Hadese's faithful pet.
Three heads enriching a body of scars,
Arriving to a fiery back-end of a dragon.
His sharp teeth he shows
To those who have crossed the river Styx,
To those who watch the years passing
From chinks bleary, missing the sun.
His skills are known,
His power unique, as he eliminates any trespasser
With nails keen.
His eyes, these eyes combine fire with madness.
Inside them only Hell finds its missing shelter.
In channels of terror he walks
Day and night
Carving threats to those who died,
Yet face the misery of living inside those wet walls.
Maybe he is the true Guard of great gates,
Separating those who live from those who left the seasons,
Removing the coin from their mouth
-The payment of a lifetime-
Sending empty hands to empty cells.
And he accepts no visitors,
And he accepts no challenge,
As he is forming circles around human shadows
To mark his territory, as a real dog would do.
Categories:
chinks, imaginationmissing, missing, myth,
Form:
Free verse