Best Coal Black Poems
I once heard the whisper of falling snow,
saw a spark in the eye of a coal-black crow,
felt the power and awe of a swift river's flow,
the older I get, the less I know.
My hair was once braided in golden cornrows,
by Jamaican friends in an island below,
a psychic once asked me about Jericho,
the older I get, the less I know.
The hot southern asphalt that scalded my toe,
the rope swing that swung us, to and fro,
Christmas Eve and the tree in the firelight's glow,
the older I get, the less I know.
Everyone's gone, but where did they go?
Why is my spirit sinking so low?
Is it true we reap only what we sow?
the older I get, the less I know.
©2010 DanielleWhite
The atmosphere rings with the bell like calls
of the plover flock, long before they are spotted.
The flight herringbones a grey fedora sky.
Markings of white and coal black weave,
wing-stitched, a blanket maker’s dream.
Sigh makers they close on the beach
at high tide, the horizon shivers the
sand blanches. These ravishing scavengers
light on the tattered edge of wet to dry,
dawdling with the dead.
Plovers are diminutive scroungers, one-legged
dancers, hopping to the pull of tide, dining on
crab-eggs in black-tie and feathered tails, their
gray skull caps lined with a black brow.
Sparrow-small birds dress to the nines.
A feast for the birds, fall crisps, crab moltings,
go on for endless miles. September is beginning
and soon winged ones will fly to sunny shores.
The cold Atlantic will moan for the loss of music,
the unstitched sky will part. The avian choir is off
to the mud flats of Carolina.
First Published Eunoia Review January 2015
Turned and tossed like toys
Riding the mighty waves
Their master does what he wilt
To them his humble slaves
Rudely he flings their boats asunder
But calm can be his days
He is his own Master Wild
Unrepentant in his ways
His moods can change quite quickly
From sparkling blues to greys
From lapping shores so softly
To howling roaring waves
Dark skinned men with coal black eyes
Bear their humble offering
To their Mighty God of the Sea
Lowly fishing boats they bring
There are some days when kind he is
They leave with catch intact
But there are others when he demands
The rights to his contract
Their women sit on the shores
Their eyes in trance like state
They pray the Mighty Sea God
Who decides their husband’s fate
Will he be of better mood today
With offerings that they’ve sought
Garlands of scented sandal wood
From the wild woods they have brought
Dark skinned men return with catch
Bursting through the seams
With laughter ringing out they’ve come back home
In scented sandalwood dreams
On the border of the obscure wastelands,
In the depths of shadows and torments,
Far beyond the land of Never Was, Never Will
Is a place where I hold you, strong and silent…
As the shards of your sensitive sadness prevail,
Sifting the awaiting coals below,
I shall reflect slivers of your light upon the darkest woe!
I fight with the broken alliance within the dimmest coves,
I mean to pull you into Death’s demise
Where the pained poets prevail and the suns of justice arise
So that e’en the coldest of coals reach warmth!
Generating power so strong, that the gods step aside
As these diamonds-to-be burst into the light of day
Revealing your words of Always Was… and Always Will
The Black Diamond, once captive…finally free…though coal black still!
For Shadow Hamilton's Contest: Fighting Depression(poems for PD)
12/7/14
My eyes captures the most beautiful moments:
The drops after tonight's cold breath
Brown leaves on moist soil
A coal-black sky with a majestic moon that
makes shadows dancing with excitement and mystery
Heralding thus the coming of cold and
long winter that is in store
with snow covered landscape resembling
Caring angels that the people of the whole world
Embrace with their luminous wings!
06.11.2014
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Beneath his coal-black forelocks, flirty eyes
kept meeting mine when I allowed my gaze
to fall on him. As if I were a prize,
he grinned at me. He'd put me in a daze!
When he approached, my heart began to pound.
He spoke so fluently, and his accent
was French! I'd never heard a sweeter sound.
He asked me on a date. Of course I went!
We chatted in a cafe as we ate.
Inside the core of me, a longing grew.
then as he drove me home, I could not wait
for what I knew would very soon ensue!
Once parked, he turned to me, eyes deep and tender,
and all that I could do was to surrender.
Dedicated to my indelible memory: Guy Loranger, wherever he may be.
Written Aug, 9, 2016 for
Becca Teagan's All I could do was surrender - Shakespearean Sonnet
"recently scenes of early life have stolen into my mind, like breezes blown ..."
Quote by _Samuel Taylor Coleridge (from his writings)
Mother no more! You're half-orphan! They said.
At just three, I did not know where she went.
With some secret-filled smile I went ahead.
Through grassy, bushy, thorny, paths so bent,
They carried her within coffin coal black...
At just three, I did not know where she went.
While walking through the same way our home back,
I did not know why I did not ask why
They carried her within coffin coal black...
When I first went to my first school nearby,
When my first teacher kissed my hand and cried
I did not know why I did not ask why
I did not cry; my dad's tears never dried.
A feeling, like rough cloudburst, within rushed...
When my first teacher kissed my hand and cried
With growing up when past feelings got hushed.
Mother no more! You're half-orphan! They said.
A feeling, like rough cloudburst, within rushed...
With some secret-filled smile I went ahead.
22 October 2022
Writing Challenge - Past Memories - ''T'' Forms Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France.
Theme: Past Memories
Form: Terzanelle
Death and Forlorn Time in the Shadows of True Evil
Death and Time holdeth onto eerie and most frightening shadows
Whilst pervading deeply within that infernal region where the dark
Evil and uncanny mists occlude the terrifying presence of a great
Dark Doomsday cult of vicious and horrifying beasts that are now
Perpetuated from a putrid Hellspawn by Lucifer’s own command!
Corrupted with the presence of sacrilegious beasts of true violence
Who hate all aspects of humankind with their spirit of maleficence,
And wince not whilst decapitating the heads of those who disagree
With them, and creating a mindless havoc of unparalleled tragedy
That’s become an expected, sad occurrence of Mankind writ large!
Brandishing a razor-sharp, coal-black-blade is their evil incarnation,
Of a time, that’s totally indicative of their chaotic rampage of bloody
Burning attacks as battlegrounds are drawn into an eternal darkness,
From whence there may be no return since there’s a dark, blood-red
Poison, from the dark afterlife, in which every drop of blood is toxic!
Every drop of this spilt blood-red poison has a deadly demonic aroma,
That produces nasty swarms of ravenous locusts to torment all innocent
Victims caught between the machinations of Almighty God and Lucifer.
In this reality, these evil spirits cast their malevolent spells without any
Scruple, wishing for Mankind’s swift destruction by Lucifer himself!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – November 24, 2017
(Quintain)
Bring me salt from your tear stained eyes
to heal my wounds as I realize
that never and forever are similar taunts
making me crazy with a message that haunts.
Once we were new and we played it so well.
Yet in spite of some heaven we landed in hell.
So be gone with your kisses and coal black heart.
My soul was endangered right from the start.
I'll meander on towards the bright light of day
while you squander the dark as you go on your way.
Never did you know me or paint me quite true.
Now goodbye is all that I have left for you.
written by Deb Wilson
March 19th,2014
motif is romantic
for Giorgio's contest
Grinding you in the coal black mortar of my expectations,
I know your substance is not one to powder under impact
And yet I work here, feverish, to prove my trepidations wrong
I grind you, harder against the walls, and you never powder,
You are shards of glass, getting smaller and smaller,
Cutting through the walls, straight into my skin
I cry out in a thousand minuscule pains,
As you enter mercilessly into my bare flesh
Tinkles flair as the wind blows upon the incisions
I sparkle in the night of our plight,
Terrorized by the horrors I have constructed,
Toying with you… you…the finesse tool to my agonies
You gained control of me like a mimed puppet master,
The binds I had tightened upon you asphyxiating my sanctuaries,
Tied along you, and twined around me
Silent, smiling, seething…
You begged me to scream
Your glass shards icing into my pupils, through my brain,
And out into the recesses of all my verbalized fears
I shove the remaining shards into my fleeting sight,
A hawk screeching, being stabbed in the eyes by its own feathers
Expelling blood and tears …matter and might,
All I wanted to do was finally see you…
To take in the scent of my grounded version of you
So long though had I whiffed in the potent poison you always were,
Too long, as it no longer has the same effect my nostrils numb for…
I Force My Drink, Dark Poison To Swallow
Chastise me in my deep, darkest sorrow,
young lad of hopes and meandering streams.
I long for relief now not tomorrow,
or next year in lost fields of shallow dreams.
My goblet of pain it over floweth,
into forests of low hanging black fruits.
There I rage in my hurt, ill wind bloweth,
on this soul with misery in its roots.
I force my drink, dark poison to swallow,
cherished within eye of this bitter storm.
Life in tatters, this spirit now hollow,
darkness and wicked cuts the daily norm.
Leave me alone, in this coal black quagmire.
Lost am I, in hell's burning fire.
R.J. Lindley
May 17th 1977
Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 105
Note- AN OLDIE FROM MY PRIVATE JOURNAL.
edited today to meet ten syllable count and 14 verse sonnet form , original longer version stays private...
fair day
tinkers came this morning
out of the melting sun
like a rainbow in a cloud of dust
their caravans noisily come
music swirled about them
and women's ribbons flew
in their coal black hair red roses
still wet with the morning's dew
rat tat tat on the pots and pans
rat tat tat on their women too
the village men stood stiffly 'round
their faces glum mouths turned down
when the tinkers came to town
the village men burn with lusty fire
for tinker girls are sweet
but never closer could they come
to the swiftly dancing feet
'round and 'round like Christmas tops
skirts high above their waist
willow withy women danced
while their men they robbed the place
rat tat tat on the pots and pans
rat tat tat on their women too
the village men stood stiffly 'round
their faces glum mouths turned down
when the tinkers came to town
anxious to be off again
fairy vaner ponies stamped
flowing mane and tails held high
they pranced around the camp
now at dusk and shadows creep
too the music all must yield
not a blade has been disturbed
across that empty field
They dive and circle as if in hypnotic state,
Tiny wrens, and ravens, and coal black crows.
When trucks dumps their loads, the flurry of fowl contemplate
Savory morsels or just household throws.
The noise of large tractors, and of sharp shrills and caws,
Of wild wings flapping over a landfill,
The thrown scraps from a table bring the birds to a pause,
Then landing en mass for a full belly fill.
It's exciting to watch them, yet worries my mind.
Some of the garbage is not fit to eat.
To the forests and meadows, there are rich foods to find,
While hanging bird feeders are quite a treat.
The Holy Land
The butchers slab of Hell, of Christian and Infidel.
Swords slash and cut lose the soul, fear! not
conscience pays the toll. And yet with battles
endless plight, the cut and thrust, ferocious might.
For all the dark one ray of light, that gentle kiss
one moonlit night.
Antioch, no quarter asked no quarter given, the
sword from blood to bone is driven. Then in the
twinkling of an eye, the pain a sickening cry. Thud
the arrow hit my chest, piecing bone and armoured
vest. From horse to earth I did fall, with failing
breath her name did call.
And there he stood with coal black eye, be still
Christian or you will die. The arrow is close to
heart, I must remove less the poison start. With
those words I drift to sleep, back to Avalon and
a promise keep. Was it hours or was it days, the
Devil tricks and mind it plays. When I woke he
was kneeling east, offering prayer to man and
beast. He saw me said rest Christian your heart
is sweet, it is full of love but incomplete. A
greener land and softer hue awaits, it is not we
who control our fates. Pray tell me what's your
name, he said call me friend are we not the same.
Jealousy and greed corrupt our aim, in our Gods
name we create our shame. He gave me rest he
gave me balm, kept the fire and kept me warm.
I asked him why. He gave me that soft dark eyed
look, he said Christian it's all about a book. A man
who stopped to aid an injured man, a man ignored
by his own country men. Yes I said the good
Samaritan, and my book has these stories to.
Your stronger now your wound has healed, time
to leave this foreign field. My family awaits with
open arms, peace and warmth and all its charms.
I clenched his hands and kissed his cheek, as if
brothers in words did speak.
Bulbous, flat, keel-like ridge, and in other shapes I see you,
Curved or carved; you shine painted in red, green, purple, or blue;
As the rainbow is placed splendidly on bone china clay,
With many musing and mourning moments, you swing and sway...!
Roses, lilies, tulips, jasmines... dancing in the cool breeze,
You can contain floral species of the skies and the seas;
Never even a moment, you seem to discriminate,
Flower from flowers, based on differences, small or great...!
A fountain of water for the flowers, trimmed and adorned,
You stand by coal-black coffins of rich or poor who are mourned;
A gorgeous and glamorous demonstration of marriage,
You decorate dazzlingly valiant soldier's carriage...!
Symbolizing plentiful wealth and lavish luxury,
Indian goddess, Vasudhara's endless treasury;
An icon of self-exploration and self-expression,
You are a portion of any art-lovers possession...!
Even when you're broken, blooms you hold with satiation,
Enhancing existential elegance and elation;
Owing your acts, optimism flows in me like flawless streams,
Not nightmares, heavens, and angels, nowadays, fill my dreams...!
19 April 2023
Writing Challenge - 'V' Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Rhymes Checked At: Rhyme Zone
Syllables Checked At: How Many Syllables