Best Clenches Poems
An alchemical raven's gray rhapsody awakens those cynical roses who
Breathe-in the ebony beams of blood-bathed sun, exhaling
Cacophonies that ricochet across these truthful horizons where,
Depressive roars embalm Lilith's lawns. Awash with smoked prairies and
Equinoctial secrecy, my neon lips swathe in life's witchy lies, for -
Flames of fury, lace every lead feather of the pewter crow, that feasts on beliefs.
Grieving charcoal stars swing like souvenirs of deceit when,
Heartbeats of hibiscus moon, shiver and shatter upon my schizophrenic
Ink, carving betrayals in asphalt ashes. "Am I a
Jewel of jinx, floating like a jet-black jasmine across
Kohl orchards?" - whispers time's wistful rebirth in the
Lachrymose lake of death, as conspiracies entwine in cyan cobwebs within
Medusa's redstone heart, tumbling at my tulip-tombstone.
Now, nebulous blackbirds, rise from corbeau cinders, as
Onyx wings of resilience have torn apart and
Pierced every sheath of shimmering faith - surrendering to the
'Queen of darkling serendipity', as her clemency clenches me onto the cusp of
Rhetoric valleys and winds pirouette with a pirate's porcelain wave,
Silencing the saffron of my soulful sculpture, in eternal streams of fall.
Thornless fate has forevermore, been an insomniac illusion and maybe,
Ultraviolet elegies of saturn's rings will become a noose for my dreams and
Viola orbs will encase every dove-dawn in a woeful chrysalis,
When anxiety's darkling dungeon, spreads across rustic realms and
Xanthic Satan dethrones my poinsettia-crown, as survival holds onto the
Yarns of last crystal light within Cleopatra's claustrophobic hope. But in the
Zillionth moment - my heart shall wail in rhymeless refrain - am I the one, lost?
'Love Story' Poetry Contest.
Sponsor: Regina Mcintosh
1st Place.
“I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.”
- John Green, "The Fault in our Stars."
"Love is selfless. Love is respect. Love is infatuation. Love is more than all three combined."
- the poet
your lashes flutter when you open your eyes
chocolate orbs, blown wide
my favourite flavour
it starts like that
two souls – a little bit broken, a little forlorn
raven locks to hide behind and skin moonlit parchment
I think I must be a little bit gone
lost in nose scrunches and cheeks all bunched up
a healthy blush spread all over and those shy plunges
my poor heart clenches
it’s pouring outside and your clothes are drenched
your body is shivering and your teeth are chattering
yet the umbrella you hold is over my head
eyebrows strewn together, worried I’ll catch a cold
it’s not just the wind ruffling your hair, I think I love your heart
and everything’s pure, this feeling blueberry snow
you love without asking something in return
it’s not just your heart, I think I love your soul
I touch its beauty and I find a lover.
Big Cypress stirs, heated by Miccosukee
sky hung in spun gold. Rising in the east,
morning sways with waves of river grass
as the elder paddles through waking water
in dugout canoe. Bare-chested, he whistles
an old, creek song, lost and found in tangles
of green swampland. Bronzed face chiseled from
stone gazes on soft, flush of Indian summer;
a burning heart beats with nature beneath.
In hand, he clenches twine of sacred bundle.
Beads of sweat fall from head lowered in prayer
to the Creator. His silent prayer for earth, hunt,
harvest and tradition collides with modern tribal
life, a quiet moment complicated by thoughts of
upcoming ceremonial festivities. If only,
he could step back in time to dance in ancient
garments 'round sacred fire free from tourists’ pale,
intruding eyes. His daughter and wife will sew
and bead jewelry to sell; his grandsons will wrestle
alligators; and he, the elder, will stand proud,
fighting to maintain dignity and culture under
a warm Miccosukee sky, hung by his ancestors
...in spun gold.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, 11/17/13
for Shanity Rain's Native American People Contest
My hands are cold, too cold
the wind burning my nose,
as it pushes me across the road,
hitting me with the reality
that I'm not there where the sun is
Numbers jump out at me
Splashing my face
with their significance
Buses meeting trains and hotel rooms
...you never did leave, did you?
It was I who left
Hours, numbers
Days, years
A decade and 3 years
and this is the first
but hopefully the last
Magnified void that clenches me
I get lost most times
but those numbers again,
Always coming up to remind me...
reflective tears
as the clock ticks past
to the past
and I am left with my hands on
my face and the clock's face
Trembling fingers touching keys
Chilled by so many reasons--
Emptied by the sighing seasons
I remind myself to smile,
amidst these blurry letters
Your laughter
resonating in my heart
Never leaving me
05062017151a226
Intricately fragile, embracing her curves,
She silently breathes in this womb,
This womb where she is a prey to its wants,
Its black silken webbing costume,
That clenches her neck, runs down her back,
Is tattooed the length of her leg,
Where every small inch of her dark gothic body,
Is covered in this spider’s thread,
She’s at one with this life of widowed disguise,
Eyeliner, fishnets, boots, and nails,
Each covered in this rich exquisite black web,
Becoming her corseted black jail,
And she wakes up at three, the unlit in the dark,
To play and to stalk and to bite,
To walk in the black crisp air of your town,
Our black widow who walks in the night.
A sorrow sets in deep in the soul,
To love and not be loved back,
Is aa shattering agony deep within the soul spreading,
A poison that clenches at the soul,
Forming a pact to never love again.
But to let bitter hate control every day of your life.
The silhouette of crooked figures
Amply lean against a wall
Speaking in a foreign language
As the foremost starts to crawl.
Out from the window
I look on the street
Robots are moving quickly
As they stare at their feet.
The planet is turning backward
Time continues on
And to think the robots walking
Moved the earth beneath their stomp.
The bookshelf is leaning
As it threatens to crush
I put my hand out to stop it
And it tells me to hush?
...What?
Confused and lost
I stumble down the stair
Finding a way out
Then stopped in dead air
The crooked figure now before me
I gaze with glistening eyes
Reaches in my chest
And clenches it's prize.
Now a moving robot
I stomp down the street
Not noticing anything
But my walking feet
The tunnel is long and musty with water dripping from the wall
Into murky puddles where pavement is slippery and easy to fall
It is cold and empty with a lingering stench in thick, heavy, air
The dark figure follows me, bearing down, with a penetrating stare
I move with persistent strength and courage toward the light
The figure is fear that can catch me, consume my being with fright
So I have an inner shield to ward it off, refusing to let it be near
It is scary, relentless, ugly, fast moving, demonizing fear
It serves no purpose, only a warning to destroy what it clenches
To keep me lost in the depth of its known hidden trenches
Waiting to paralyze those who give in, as it preys on weakness it sees
The light shines ahead, as I focus only on reaching it, where it frees
Where I have faith as I exit, I will be out of one of the darkest places
Knowing, I overcame the luring force, in a tunnel with scary faces
Heidi Sands
9/26/18
The city skyline’s broken teeth
Chewed on the fog’s edge
Yellowed and dirty tendrils seethe
Above the sun’s defeated wedge
The lights wink on like stars but dim
One for one they blink and wink
Musical lights but just a whim
Whimsical eyes peer through the stink
Exhaust exhausted
Encrusted in grime
Another sunset display wasted
As sun slides into slime
The city skyline’s broken teeth
Gum at the blue-black dusk
A faded funeral wreath
Above a wasted husk
Yet city life slowly creeps out
Of chimneys and alleys
As the irritated neighbor shouts
Through the concrete valleys
And as the snake of traffic exits
The city goes to sleep
The teeth still clenches and grits
As the pain cuts so deep
Little pebbles of broken glass, litter the streets, but the children run barefoot anyway.
Stubbing toes, contracting disease, playing with cigarette butts and discarded syringes.
The teens hide by the dumpsters, and quickly pump a vein.
A homeless man, jealous of the teen; instead, clenches his timeless drug of choice, a good ole' fashioned beer.
The sun still shines on the dust covered signs.
The streets crumble under the weight of America's ever increasing obese population.
Nothing has really changed, besides new acceptance of tried and true vices.
There’s always little kids causing trouble, teens using drugs, depressed old men drinking away their shame.
America is still the same great country,
Far superior than all the rest!
Despite their reduction in crime, lowered drug addiction rates, drop in homelessness, and constant upkeep of their buildings and streets.
Well besides all that... America is still Superior in Every way….
The Reunion
I’ve been invited to a classroom reunion,
I can see my old chums over there.
Geordie Cockle has got a green suit on,
While Denver Crisp, is sporting no hair.
These people don’t look as I remember,
Some are grey, some old and some fat.
Willy Heather is in parliament as a member,
Lisa Tabby, has brought her new cat.
The years haven’t been kind to Tim Jolly,
But made a looker of Beverley Sprite.
Dandy Beano is still a right wally,
Sharing bad jokes and drinking all night.
Danny Sergeant has just left the army,
With a medal to make us all proud.
Des Troy clenches a fist and goes barmy,
Describing his war, to an avid small crowd.
Trudy Trotter now owns a small Pig farm,
Making bacon for the town folk of Wick.
Amy Fry prints Tee shirts “Keep Calm”,
and Tim Throup left early, feeling sick.
The problem with the old-school reunion,
Is the boasting, tall tales and the rest.
Familiar old faces, but no playground fun.
Why did I reply, to my reunion request?
Sitting there,
With that empty stare,
Staying still,
Going nowhere,
You have lost all hope,
The will to live,
The pain clenches your heart,
Sitting there,
In the dark,
You stare at her,
Your lost love,
Sitting in the armchair,
As cruel as life can be,
Why did god take you,
So violently from me,
I thought our love was forever,
Until the doctors told me otherwise,
Weeks not months to celebrate,
With so many tears in our eyes,
A wicked disease,
Has left me,
Mourning my soul mate,
Sitting in a dark room,
With that empty stare,
Longing and wishing for my love,
To be found opposite me,
In her favourite armchair.
Sitting there,
With an empty stare,
Remaining still,
Going nowhere,
You have lost all hope,
Your way to live,
The pain cannot be felt no more,
Sitting there,
At the crossroads,
Staring painfully,
At the old wreath of flowers,
Sitting in the wheelchair,
As cruel as life can be,
Why did god take you,
So horrendously from me,
I thought our love was forever,
The drunk driver took you away,
Hurtling into our car,
On a perfect sunny day,
A wicked man,
Has scarred me,
And mourning my soul mate,
Sitting paralyzed at that crossroads,
With that empty stare,
Longing and wishing for my love,
To come back to me,
And take me away from this wheelchair.
As cruel as life can be,
The future we can never see,
Nothing seems to be forever,
No matter how much we pray,
Or hope that is so,
As cruel as life can be,
Our dreams and visions,
Are evaporated in a twisted,
Roll of dice,
When deaths hand reaches out,
No religion or science can save you,
Time to go,
Hardly time to say goodbye,
Hold on to our memories,
When you forget how to cry,
Don’t ever forgot the one you lost,
As cruel as life can be,
Tearing away veils of hope,
And leading you to insanity,
So mourn you loved ones,
But don’t let life bring you down,
It is not over until it’s over!
© Darren Hobson September 2015
It feels like a baseball to the face
Or like alcohol on a bad scrape
Shocking and completely out of place
Making way for a hurried escape
Death does not whisper or whine with pain
It clings to the heart with sufferings
Like a mixture of pelting gray rain
Melting away all fortunate things
It feels like a glimpse of rotting flesh
Or like icicles along bare skin
Dreadful beyond what might opt to thresh
Creating fright about to begin
Death doesn't try to reserve time
It simply reaches out, latches on
Like it has offers in the meantime
For special moments that will not con
It feels like a sickening rupture
Or like tomorrow from tonight’s song
Nasty and similar to anger
Preparing feelings that are all wrong
Death is a humbling experience
It makes you fathom you're powerless
To change the mortality’s grievance
Leaving you alone with your conscious
It is sinister and alarming
Like a cold hand touching your own hand
It clenches like it’s out for blaming
The fond feelings on the reprimand
Death is a lonely and limp dwelling
It makes you see your incompetence
Pulls on tenderness of your heartstring
Will death still discourage your conscience?
August 9th, 2014
©2014
My head hurts, my chest pounds
The men with guns all around
They frighten me, standing tall
I watch them, as they line us on a wall
One by one my heart clenches
As I see my people fall
And I know that I am next
Now the people watch, and their hearts clench
As I fall.
Apathy is a viper with vehement venomous fangs,
Which crunch clenches tight, imposing its poisonous pain.
Injected invectives of predatory infestations feed their dejected prey's infection;
Parasitic Succubi sip on succulent souls, spat out in no direction after dissection.
Purge my pathetic and partitioned soul of this demonic rape!
Spare me, please, oh divine Earthen elementals of this cloaken cape,
Whose masked cowl creeps over my spirit with fear,
And the wicked ennui applauding for the end to near.