Best Commences Poems
A Song at Sunrise
He sang the song at sunrise, to the morning dawn
It rose into the atmosphere and carried on and on
It fell in gentle rain upon the barren lands
It moistened upturned faces and was caught in outstretched hands
It blew within warm winds across the marshy fen
Was whispered through the waving reeds and reached the hearts of men
This song is never ending all around the earth
The song that started long ago with our sweet Saviour's birth
POULTER'S MEASURE that is in alternating 12 then 14 syllables lines and so on
(the form always commences with a 12 syllable line)
Courtesy of Brian Strand
Margaret Foster: 18th February 2010
It was not that she was the only woman in the group, when mingling precariously beneath the bronze figure of William Booth, or her classic stance, when placing saintly, the newsprint covered bottle to lips willingly breached, but her opulent style, her contrast of attire, and as yet her hair unruffled. Although sparse of jewelry a gold ring dangles on a chain, catching the light as it shines in the noon day sun, a tinge of blood trickles down her neck. Her recently pierce ear lobe, bearing signs of some street wise ritual? Evidence of suave sophistication, exists with movements of grace and elegance, fingers more use to the gentle stem of the crystal goblet, than the demure grasp of the shapeless neck of a bottle of brown ale.
a fork in the lane
no signpost to guide one home
a need or a deed
Her head begins to lift higher and higher with every mouthful of distinct courage, every courteous act. Then! A look of deep despair, as the bottle is released from her reluctant deep red lips, a senseless shake only proved her greatest fear. Suddenly to her aid came a wayward chap, swiftly finishing his own endless gorge. He commences to wipe the neck of his perpetual habit, with a mucus soiled cuffless sleeve, before passing it on to her veracious hand, his eyes eagerly awaiting its return.
a lane to despair
not alone but in the palm
existence or life
After the corrosive day is over, the sun finally at rest, only the motley park bench will be her abode with printed tabloids to cover her chilled exterior, her metabolism accelerating, to become one of so many, a license to enter their dissipation, only then will options for her begin to diminish, external metamorphosis soon to blend with inner corruption, life’s destruction rapid along the highway of completion!
first rays of sunshine
a trial or tribulation
the signpost renewed.
© Harry J Horsman 2018
A Harvest of Music
The orchestra gathered under the dome
Audience awaiting the pure joy to come.
Descending silence alerting the senses.
Arrive the maestro, and magic commences.
Trombone and trumpet burst forth with feeling.
Explosion of sound, set senses reeling.
Tuba and French horn now adding their voice,
Uniting as one to delight and rejoice.
Soft music flowing, a leaf in a stream,
Catching the ear in a heavenly dream,
Rising and soaring, empowered of wings,
A dream maker's touch and violin sings.
With long curving bow caressing the strings,
Hair hiding her face, an angel, she brings
The music of angels, rafters invading
Haunting blue notes from cello cascading.
Clarinet cadenza, clear fluid tones
Tugging the heartstrings, embracing the bones.
Filling the dome, ethereal splendour
Fading away, celestial wonder.
Percussion take hold, no longer hidden
Cymbals and side drum do as they're bidden,
Crashing and booming, sound finding its berth
Pulling the listener back down to the earth.
Thunderous applause with standing ovation.
The crowd full of rapture capture elation,
A feast for the soul, a prayer with no word
A harvest of music, to honour the Lord.
No pagan crown of fossil lairs
Of him I write no verse nor song
T’is not a soup to stir nor share
When lending strength, to something wrong.
Seconds cloned from darkest matter
Mutated minutes dredged by fear
Mind confusion as reason shatters
Innocents lanced by emotion's spears.
Flowers edge the steps and fences
Prayers are uttered near a shrine
Notes of love, as grief commences
A vigil wrought by hearts sublime.
Picking up the scattered pieces
Light must shine to crack the dawn
Support can smooth the furrowed creases
Only hope can make their spirits strong.
Singular and thus finite
begins the spiral's spinning plight
of eminent foretold collision
love commences in a vision
Unbeknownst before the time
an effigy that burns the mind
now filters clear, emotions raw,
the present image striking awe
Eyes and hair on perfect face
with pouted mouth, the heart doth race
into the thoughts, how to proceed?
laggardly? ...with godly speed?
Clumsily one gathers poise
do thine drums work? there is no noise
at the point, this cosmic stead
a vocal soul must forge ahead
Words abashed but striking through
perceived by them, return to you
is that a chorus sounding there?
without belief just simper stare
Lives become one single strand
as two entangle by the hand
joy begins to warmly swell
for fate's occasion, two hearts fell
flight
mission controls
checked and bound
for another blackhole
engines prepped and fired up
as eyes of wonder begin to shut
cloud-shaped sheep are hopping fences
numbering each as countdown commences
Announcement: Houston, we have a go!
Launch - the coordinates passing Star Nebula row - G-force
floating - flying through infinity outside my window - gloating
Warp speed in time not throughout space
collect all data to save the human race!!!
A concrete plan within this willowy plane
circling freely through the twirling stains
I will miss deep space when I land again.
Entering the atmosphere
where music appears
beep
beep
beep
beep
4/26/2018
concrete contest
The dance commences, I retreat a step
Shattered from archaic engulfing patterns
You cha cha your storm forward in
Swirls of ancient abandonment and as
I skip back another, gasping for sufficient safety from suffocation,
You unfurl your blitz clawing the lioness’ leash
You decipher my terror and it emboldens your raging compulsion
Which suspends our inner children in connected cocoons and yet somehow
We cant reach each other as we intermingle desperately
It makes us stoic, empty and musically atrophied but
At a closer distance, oxygen less and congruently alone
And it sits frog like, stale and poisonous between us and still
The spire flattens and petrifies our reflections powered by a
Stalemate which devours our fragile humanity with a timid jocularity
Dawn develops with snowflakes
It also commences with sunny glow
The peak stands with green bushes with some small fleece like folks.
Fleece folks with Liliputs owners grazing with passion.
There is an enormous terrain at the foothills of peak filled with some matchbox like houses.
The lake isn't usual as it is red under a blue sky.
The tulips and roses recite a story of their red colour.
The valley itself is a saga of wonder, beauty and dark reality.
Reality that camouflages behind the greeny bushes.
But tulips and roses are there to recite.
Dedicated to "Kashmir Valley" ( India).
Goddess breasts
And King rage
Stood atop high mountain
Within fog-haze heaven fountain
Proclaimed animosity
Seduction she destruction he
Planned in intricate intimate detail
Spanned thoughts depths good to evil
Delve deeper death
Devolve life or rotting unto another
Devoid they’ll stumble crumble
Rubble stubble see the wonderful
Beautiful ending chaos of love
Passionate embracing commences
****** finalizing hatred
Defenses halt all faltering attraction
Poison words become self-preserving reaction
Pitiful pitiless human race
Crass species welcoming defeat
Relieve relent life strife
This wife is now beaten bloody
Barren dragon satan devil spawn
Celestial snow painted blood-red
We are dead
Time reduces marvelously
Flesh erodes bloated bones
Appear traveler near observes
Immortals on high crying softly
Falling Olympus’ shroud tainted dyed
Maroon amber streams
Skeleton’s romance remains
Defames other’s vows
Promised hours till reaper doth part
Wedding bands golden
These eyes have beholden
Affection surpassing eternal sleep
Redemption veiled with mystery.
Whilst I await slumbering, I look forward to
the night’s nebulous dome,
there, the winkers’ wisp in background watercolor
Indigo, violets, bluesy cobalt passions
I try and describe as best I can
such wispy delicacy, it seems,
in such an incredibly vast variety
far above gravity’s expanse
Can I make sense of it all? Inky space clouds
blinky storms of lantern spiritual guides,
they navigate notions into stellar minds
where porcelain poetry resides,
across oceans, they give us hope in darkened times
The brightest star gleams its essence,
and comforts the dreamers
clusters follow it, warming their hearts,
taken by its swaying stardust of magical menageries`
Exuberant eyes that twinkle linear force pulling all in
with its meticulous melodies, inking such
along the skylines, sonnets of indulging desires
endearing, flowery forestry, filled with filigree
Of gold and silver linings, wishing upon itself
and all is lost, its measure prioritized,
selling sanctuaries with no patina
The light grows dim, the longer it starves
the dark side commences, the eye of the eye winces,
and winks with sly
Besides, it has shown its realities
and the rapt audience
once billowing over it,
have unveiled the vile shadow
which makes steel struck, stifled
Its healing horizons have none after all,
betraying those in need of its light,
fueling its starship of starlight ego
of its own, smothering, smoldering
shooting the stars to smithereens
Sometimes I follow the faded stars,
the sun sinks into earth
Her horizon sends darkness
yet says it’s light always~
K illing its prey with bacteria stained saliva
O n queue, it is patient as the blood poisoning commences
M aking deadly moves out of the savannah grass
O verpowering even the largest of beast
D evastating team of dragons eviscerate a corpse in a few hours
O n Indonesia’s Island it reins
The morning sun hovers coyly
behind broad shoulders of the John Crow Mountain
before unwrapping petals of fever plant and Venice.
Mama’s countenance was far contrast to one so radiant,
so when the old Leyland bus went shuddering along gravel road
the first beams break through pinewood forest.
The old New Hampshire Red was up last night,
bamboozled by the plump moon,
but all was still in the petite hours ‘fore daybreak.
His first boast was far too late;
Banties have already blown their tops,
and warm rays long ago penetrated rabbit fence.
Leghorns proudly announced fresh eggs.
Beds were unoccupied and unmade.
Voices came, children in euphoria;
oppressors were off to nine to five.
Nightingale sang an encore
before morning forage,
and gaiety commences.
Brown skinned pickneys,
like the color of the Balaclava clay,
with reflections of innards on innocuous visages.
The hoopla lived until the Leyland snaked along treacherous drop
and the sun hastened to avoid mama’s air.
Chores rushed,
and mama voice ruined our names.
Tomorrow, at first light, we will be children again.
Most of us have heard of lands where dogs licked their humans’ faces
and are driven about in carriages in nappies,
while we loathe our predicament
some counterparts wrestle in grown-ups’ arenas;
innocence lost to palm wine and brown-brown,
and blood moves consciences far less than September’s rain.
Will tomorrow’s shoots be allowed to be children,
delightful progenies?
Let the bright sun shine on Columbia, Cambodia, Guatemala, and Sierra Leone.
"PreOccupation"
spiced
cut up poetry
divides
numbers
intentional
drivel moved
to the side
on a blank page
into neat lines
sucked up
a much loved
addiction
novel and short
Pre Occupation
of all the glossy
shrouded shrouds
minds spiced
scab picking, their
word salads, tossed
the windbags
blowing braggarts
know-it-alls
blow it all
cutting the lines
like neat poetry, up
gladiator
brides
are us
sucking it
all up
like sweet custard
vampire voices
puck shot
through goal posts
cleansed?
they think they're missed;
I think not
baptised virtuous
scrabbled
war torn pilgrims
the lecherous
with nothing
better to do
watch all
bride defectors
sign language
look into the mirror
your reflections all
on repeat, the watchers
all wisened
move through,
or move
through not
they still avidly watch
the time wasting
away
Pre Occupation
sides and numbers
all blood suckers lost
buried, wearing
their shrouds
poetry in lines
black and white
cut up neatly
divided
on a blank page
the sucked up
read all the
time wasted
lost
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Halloween approaches Vampires,
suck blood and be
merry
“The meeting commences in the arena;
Gladiators and space defectors
In walk the druids and the shock troops
In walk the druids and the shock troops
Ringside seats, bird's eye views
Video cameras only tell the truth
Milliards of youths complacent in the eyes
Of their contemporary sleuths
Witch-wizards sat on cosmic thrones
The new age crowned all skin and bones
The sacred priestess of Merlin The Mage
Opens the book, she turns the page ...”
...
"Conspiracy of silence
An orgy of peace
They're all here from every sphere
From every planet to shake their spears
Divide the lands of the halls of Pan
Painted warlords in their hordes
Asa kings and obi queens
Step from my skull and live my dreams
(excerpt/”Druids”, Toyah Wilcox, 1982)
“The Legendary Adventure Moments of Doctor Hermione Baggins the Reddish of Winterhold, The Master Sith Rainbow Lord Lulu Pucca, Cloud Kitty Carla Chandra the Ruby Rose, and Rand O'From Equestria the Darken Raw Snow vs The Strange A.A. or Perhaps B.S. Educated Scotties Homer Pilgrim’s Search for More Resources by Destroying the Galaxy to Make Way for a Interstellar Lightspeed Railway or Was It a Fishing Pond?”
Apathetic the game will continue on anyway
“Bidet,” a person points, "first door on the right in the hallway"
Celtic orchestrated melody commences to play
Drastic the GM in a serious voice proceeds to convey
“Exotic treasures will be rewarded at the story's endplay
Frederick and Scotty have threatened to destroy the floodway
Galactic dragons will soon have control of the realms gateway
Heretic man wearing the scarlet hand is on the highway
Icteric smiles seeing the party ‘do you have an issue?’”
“Judgematic paladin, what course of action will you do?”
“Kinesthetic, I'll flash step next to him and use my kung fu”
Laconic, looking over at the monk, “not your turn Lulu”
"Majestic I promenade over and address this mildew"
Novelistic I say, ‘the dragons, and mage, I must melee’”
“Optimistic the NPC rolls a 16 and tries to outplay
Panic soon kicks in as the druid and monk cross the pathway”
Quadraphonic sounds play as the initiative ensues
"Rollick, the monk and I go over, but I just rolled a two”
“Slapstick the heretic encounters the paladin’s swordplay
Tragic it's late and we must stop the story right here today
Unpoetic I know but we'll pick up again next Wednesday"
Updated 5/14/2019
The curtain tears at the centre stage
On a dancing mother and her saddled baby
Birds whistle, trees dance as the cock crows
The fire, whir, caresses her to ash
The new sizzling act oozing panache
The herald of a new dawn
The snoring clouds will give birth to a novel day
Poco a poco, the journey commences
Whoa! He makes it to the cast in life
The number one movie in the box office
See! The smouldering sun, fireballs everywhere
The boy, a man, a lion...
Rolling in the deep
Solomon please last forever
Progressively the day bids farewell as the sun fades away
The stage illuminates in her consummate intimacy with the moon
Basking in the euphoria of virginity long lost
Solomon, a boy, bag of bones
The moon wax stronger as the night crawls in stealthily
Zero, oh! Oh, zero! Time of reckoning calling
The weary act takes a big bow as the centre stage closes
And his shadow fades back to oblivion.