Best Circling Poems
As the reaper approached, I lie waiting for death,
whispering sad goodbyes while gasping for breath.
In a blurry haze of awareness, I drift towards sleep,
as visions of childhood days in my mind slowly creep.
I hear muffled sobs of loved ones as they weep.
There's a shadowy presence flying high overhead,
those scavengers of death, those that I most dread.
Their beady black eyes intent on watching my face,
circling around and around. It's a feast they chase,
ebon wing feathers falling as they hasten their pace.
I've need of sanity, so I close my eyes and pretend
I'm walking on a summer day with my best friend.
We're chasing tadpoles and sloshing in streams,
laughing as our skin turns bronze from sunbeams,
then I wake to realize that these were but dreams.
My memories are fading, and my lips feel numb.
To eternity's slumber, I will soon succumb.
I asked someone near me to chase them away...
She bent close and whispered, "What did you say?"
"The vultures circling me. Please keep them at bay."
Clusters of tenebrous clouds obscured the sunlight.
I heard raucous calls of the damned vultures in flight.
Oh, how I begged for their tormenting caws to cease,
for only then would I live my last moments in peace.
I heralded silence then welcomed life's release.
July 10, 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 31 Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Theme: Vultures Circling
Vultures feed off the dead,
therefore we are worried
seeing them overhead,
as fearful thought spirals,
hovering in our head.
Vultures feed off the dead,
so it’s time to reflect
on dark desires ill bred,
grown out of proportion,
since we’re by instincts led.
Vultures feed off the dead,
thus we must be a corpse,
roaming on earth with dread,
in bondage to desires,
whose roots in us have spread.
Vultures feed off the dead
but we’re soul eternal
refusing to be bled
by cravings of ego,
choosing God’s light instead.
03-July-2022
dark angels
prey
where no prayers are left
***
dew
sparkling
on petals
invisible
soul vapor rising
gaily bouncing
in the air
returns
dew
First Place Winner: Caren Krutsinger: Ninette Contest 7/25/21
The ancients honored you in their cultures
Mythology crowned Jataya, King Of Vultures
Obligate scavengers, you conduct your foray
Toward putrid carcass of what will be your prey
Dead bodies, prairie dogs, rodents, wild boars
Insatiable eclectic pallet opens many doors
Vomit, your defense, your uric acid searing
Hunched backbone, broadened wingspan so fearing
Here they soar, the vultures who seldom kill
Just scouting about for their carrion meal
.
vultures circling
over fall's red golden leaves..
suddenly dive lunch
Gazing,
Greek letters display of curious origin.
Impregnation skin softly writhing aware letters
Sea
Alpha, Omicron, Tau, Psi, Mu, Rho, pass through all the rest and each other figure 8
Jangling in strange confronting orbits
Gossamer skin flays, the letters
Pulsing, transforming, letter of many letters, blur into the naked moment
Peeling, ghostly skins of finest rice paper move in snapshots.
Antique movie projectors of the future in gleaming metal dimensions provide the beam of data.
Clear butterfly wing skins, of most delicate light composition drift away on sighing notes.
Northerly pinned eyes of cartoon snakes circle round their primitive crayon bodies, snakes scattered, handfuls of straw.
Ivy sneaks, moving snakelike, twisting embrace of delicate moving entwining, tiniest crimson leaves wave and cavort.
I brush them with my hand, a sigh, a shudder.
Rippling passes, a pleasant tremor of metaphysical nostalgia, exhaling-inhaling, large-small eyes go in tremulous quark orbits of no time.
Letters-Snakes-Ivy,
Changing, blue hues pass into yellow moons of eclipsing black-hole pupils.
It is another,another, another, another-another, other, forgetting-remembering, passing, fading, rebounding, incoming, trailing away…
Exultation of indistinct revelation.
Looking, hidden information lurks in creeping shadows that run when thought over.
Forearm falling trapeze into screaming meters, Terror/Enthronement beep rapidly, hyper strobes paralyzed awe droning to absurd levels.
Genie teleporting snapshots poof like insane santas blasting through never-ending chimney floors.
Cessation, Self, Other, Break, Form, Mystery, Spin
Only can appear if vanished first, no first can be found, cannot appear to vanish. Not vanishing, so never appearing.
I am back to myself, gazing at the arm. The arm, the letters, the snakes, the ivy do not contain the thing to know, they are.
I can only follow and behold.
I saw a turkey circling, high above Manhattan
his bronze and copper feathers ripped in the sun,
and it looked like it was having an awful lot of fun.
He looked proud, in those clouds—majestic and delicious,
I could picture him sprawled out, on our Thanksgiving dishes.
Then I thought, chastisingly, “Wow, in a way, that’s kind of vicious.”
I opened the glass doors—we were sitting on the sky-high terrace.
I thought I’d better check—so I wouldn’t later be embarrassed.
I called Karen (Lisa’s Mom), “You already got a turkey to prepare us?”
She was hand making apple and cherry pies, lining crust in the pans
“You bet!” She called, “One's dressed-up—and a honey-baked ham!”
Closing the door, I yelled, through cupped hands, “Fly on Turkey—DO NOT LAND!”
.
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A song for this:
It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year - Shrift remix by Andy Williams and Shrift
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Here's a Christmas playlist: daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_34.mp3
They soon circle around a death;
rapidly after the last breath.
While the body is yet still warm,
they come, with haste, the greedy swarm.
Siblings, children, lost cousins, friends
all picking through the odds and ends.
Some wailing of a promise made
or claiming for a debt unpaid.
Who gets the house, the watch of gold?
"Much more," they say, "So we've been told."
"Secret accounts; a home abroad
The jewels left by old aunt Maude,
a diamond ring, a fancy car,
also, that etching by Renoir".
And then, the words that make all swoon:
At some time in the afternoon
executors enunciate
"There's naught left in this estate
all given to a home for dogs
a while before he popped his clogs".
Pick-A-Title, Vol 31 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Date wrote: 24th July 2022
Ripples of pain weave circles round her
Memories sad and stark crucify her
Ugly and soiled scenes blur her vision
The whimper of aborted foetus deafens her
At night she encounters mindless phantoms
Vampires who come to suck her blood
Vultures circling to feed on her flesh raw
Tear her and hack her to shreds
Dribble spittle into her parched mouth
She seeks a shelter where she could fall asleep,
Breathing dark secrets into her crumpled pillow
When questions rise from all corners,
Putting her into a dreadful quandary,
She longs to hide in the remote corners of her self
And wash clean in her own tears,
Dousing the flame in their salinity
In a quickly darkening world,
She looks for a candle flame,
To make her ashen heart once more aflame.
When torn with the whiplash of life,
She longs for a balm to kiss away,
The sting of her reeking wounds.
From the throes of pain,
She resolves to walk into the calm-
Into the serenity of a day’s end,
Not to be a toy again
Fit for heartless rogues-
The circling vultures!
July.7. 2022
~ Placed First~
Pick-A-Title, Vol. 31 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
There's a shark swimming in the soup
quietly circling and lurking
Hiding behind mean metaphors
and toothy snide similes
He's poised, ready to strike
and feast on the unwary
Ripping off the heads
of anyone muddying his waters
12/24/18
Contest Sponsor Anthony Slausin
Two young ones brought together into an orbit left to spin.
They fought recklessly forever wanting to be right and to win.
Two young children growing up secretly holding in the night.
While every one knew they circled endlessly in their plight.
Never leaving orbit like sharks they did swim.
Both fighting the attraction, while waiting for it to end.
They left, came back, and left, forever, yet again.
With time they slowly grew up, held tight in the spin.
Then one finally woke up and knew his way that day.
Stopping the games, he found he couldn’t circle and stay.
Finally, he left the circle and went to her straight away.
But his frustrations made him bite her badly as he walked away.
Then he left vowing to never come back to this bend.
The wind breathed ” Go Back. Go Back. Don’t let her get away.”
“Go back. Go back. You must make her yours today.”
But she was still caught in the spin and the same old ways.
But her circle now looked to others to add to the spin.
So he sat down to wait as her circle went on again.
But the spin didn’t include him as number one any more.
He knew any moment the circle would lose it’s hold and they would be dawn.
When she realized he’d stopped spinning, and was trying to hold her close.
They would be together if they learned to dance this time back and forth.
They would be together if her, he could quietly hold.
It would take more than presents, only patience and a heart of love and gold.
She would have to forgive, to make things right again.
But his leaving words had quite a bite, and held them still apart.
So they went back to spinning as he slowly sought her heart.
The one he had broken and so deeply torn apart.
I remember the birthday party and the park with the merry go round
You talked about certain things in the future and I was unclear why
Until later, when you were no longer in my life at all
You saw it coming, but my child’s mind was not able to see
Until your house was merely a memory, with truth wiped away
My mind spun like that merry go round, but the playground no longer fun
No matter the search for answers, only circles I did find
Many years later I learned a lot more, than many wanted me to know
How significant my birthday was, to all the secrets of those early years
I look in the mirror now and I see resemblance that I cannot escape
As mighty as you said I would be, in ways that people cannot see
Heidi Sands
11/8/21
it's another year and you've gotten a little older
and your faith in the Lord God has gotten a little bolder
you might have a little bit more of a middle age spread
you might even have a few more gray hairs on your head
but don't sweat the small stuff Pastor it's going to be okay
for you have made it through to another birthday
the buzzards are probably circling but with you God's not done
just stay in the game of life until the victory has been won
you've preached from many a pulpit for over 30 years
you've always say that God is real and in your heart you hold Him dear
you've given us the word and have moved us in a good way
and that's why we're gathered here in love to celebrate your birthday
yet the buzzards are probably circling but with you God's not done
so here's to you Pastor Griffin on your fifty-first one
you raised two good daughters, one's in college and the other is about to wed
you might feel like you're losing a child but you're gaining a son-in-law instead
you've been married to a beautiful woman of God for more than half your life
and for that accomplishment alone you should give all the glory to the Lord Christ
yet those buzzards are probably circling Pastor but with you God's not done
and may you continue to preach the gospel of God for another fifty-one
dissecting the virtues
of the green sea
we lie entwined
in
the scorching sun
melaninising oiled
in the yellow sand
upside down
arguing crying
laughing and
meditating
reuniting
the sun was
circling around
the earth
then