Best Compresses Poems
A helical "Slinky" type coil
Compresses or springs without toil,
It’s spiral at times,
Or stretched to the nines...
Like worms that are happy in soil!
Beneath or on top of the ground,
They stretch, but so often lie wound,
Their tunnels air earth
To make healthy dirt
And seedlings are glad they’re around!
February 21, 2015
Premiere Contest: Spiral
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
Categories:
compresses, earth, growth, spring,
Form:
Limerick
Falling into the vortex,
there is no escape
You're sucked in,
getting sub-atomically stripped
is your inevitable fate
No more straight line of linear time
No more clearly defined dimensions of reality,
it all bends and shifts
Space-time gets blended
and folded,
unanchored and set adrift
The future compresses inside the past
You see everything in an instant
before disintegration occurs
You fell into a singularity,
where a new set of physic laws dissolve
you into pure cosmic energy
This is the place where paradoxes
become a byword
Singularity
This is the place where dead stars
have collapsed into their rebirth
Singularity
This is the place where death occurs instantly
Singularity
This is the place where death takes an eternity
Singularity
Falling into the maelstrom,
there is no escape
You're forcibly pulled in,
and molecular disintegration
is your ultimate fate
In here, dimensions bend
and reality shifts
Space-time becomes unanchored
and set adrift
The past compresses inside the future
You see everything in an instant
before reconstitution occurs
You fell into a singularity,
where a strange, new reality dissolves
you into pure cosmic energy
This is the place where paradoxes
become a byword
Singularity
This is the place where dead stars
collapse into their rebirth
Singularity
This is the place where death takes an eternity
Singularity
This is the place where death occurs instantly
Singularity
The creation of time and space
is your wondrous last sight seen
Now as a newborn infinity child,
singularity is your first infant dream
Categories:
compresses, perspective, space, visionary,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
As little boys
we rode bikes
fast down the dunes,
on the vertical side
of Sand City
Big tires creased
deep furrows
in the down-slope,
same as boats trailing
wakes upon the swell
At the leeward portion
of the great sand hills
the long bronze
shadows of late noon
stretched to east
Meeting low pines
over ice plants
just as early suppers
smoked the spice
into mists above
Under which boys grew hungry
and boys grew weary
when drawn on-shore,
but grew bold again
when looking back to sea
Then fortified, soon returned
astride soft summits
as if to challenge
the long leading
boundary of night
A boundary against which
little boys are forbidden,
because bay breakers
rage half-seen
against the land
Because the turnstiles
of time get sand
in the gears and
the rising moon
comes fully into its own
Because the dawn sea
compresses foggy dimensions
into the unlearned territory
of young hearts
with full moon in the eyes
Of four-foot warriors
solemn in afterthought
huddled in a circle
as night overtook
a long day of handiwork
And even the bike furrows
grew silent at last
their contours to vanish
in darkening flatness
somewhere below our feet
Categories:
compresses, childhood,
Form:
Free verse
Hypocrisy within the Village Flock
As the seasons of my life changes, glorious it may not be!!
Valley bells summons the flock to chapel.
Heavily polished Pews squeak, as Village flock take their seats.
Distant ghostly voices ring out with such shallowness.
“Chapel roof raised with such false faith”
No attention paid to the sermon.
The congregation floored by jealousy, as each man mirrored by his own status.
Women competing, against their hats and frocks.
Jealousy worms weaving through their gowns,
feathers in hats, quivers as the coven moves through the vestry door.
Minister excited to the jingles of the collection box whilst being passed around and around.
my soul lays upon a bed of thistles.
Whilst the thorned crown compresses the thoughts within my head.
Lurking within the shadows of the cross .
Whilst the gruelling over the sacrificial lamb
So-called reputable men “ that should not be”
The pitch pine pulpit, creeks with despair.
Parishioners best clothed with shiny shoes,
“all hypocrites congregate here”!!
Layer upon layer of blasphemous faith,
create a stain on uneasiness upon the so-called sacred walls .
Each Private hymnbook worn by sweating hand,
fidgeting tell- tales of fear through ware.
Each before God and un- easy to what conscience they happen to bear!!
“ If this is faith, then I want no more,”
All false faces glance, finally and for the last time.
I exit through the memories, OF that stained chapel door.
Categories:
compresses, betrayal, character, christian, conflict,
Form:
Pastoral
The power we now witness is only the start
An angry earth she is, her tectonic plates in depart
Seconds later they again meet with abrasive force
The reaction to the action is just a matter of course
Crustal deformation from the abyss of her deep
For she'll care not for, the thousands who will weep
Translucent displacement in furious rise
The energies are now released that will swamp victims cries
Substantial volumes gather at a tremendous rate
No care for our future or the disaster it will create
Whilst out at sea we can can't determine the size
For we will feel the anger as she forcefully applies
Sirens now sounded, on the horizon it's been sighted
Evacuation to the listening, the unheard will be blighted
As it now approaches the shore, wave shoaling compresses the wave
It's speed now slowed down, we now await what it craves
Like a silent assassin it's now ready to pounce
No prisoners it will take as it lands in thunderous trounce
Smashing and crashing as it collects in it's wake
No care for the living or it's material take
The gathering of debris amidst gas mains that erupt
Power lines and buildings feel her anger so abrupt
Losses of many are now caught up in this sadness
From she angry earth, or has she entered madness
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/natural-disasters.php
Categories:
compresses, loss, natural disasters, sadcare,
Form:
Quatrain
First Day of the Year, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Premier de l’an by T. Wignesan
Each moment of waking up is an act of giving birth
I use the iron tools myself on the mother
To death
Myself : Who is this myself ?
Am I somebody else other than the weight I bear
Who resists who clings refuses
To be born ?
This weight deliberately reinforces itself
Through its heaviness
It wouldn’t want ever to be anything but matter
Half-conscious half in a state of stupor
Root before being stem
Seed which pushes upwards through the ground
Without being pulled out
Meanwhile it fathoms its false state of sleepiness its
burrow
(And) in delving into it it expels proportionately
All its skin goose-pimply to the touch
Hairiness of anguish enormous world
She kneads it more and more into the narrow passage
Her own abdomen compresses in vain his anguish
Towards the interior and the exterior at the same time
An every day happening that’s always impossible
The act of giving birth
This first day of the year nineteen seventy-three
Aged fifty-six years and eight months
Once again after twenty-thousand times more
I knew I have to be born
I do not want to.
I cry out to Someone who is stronger than me
That he might pull me out of my old fears originating from
my mother*
That they put me on this earth
So that I might walk towards my end once and for all in
my stride
With my dead elder-sister for company
On this earth of living beings
Someone who is I right at the end of the route
Up above
Puts aside with might the thin-lined horizon
So that I might be born
One day the more.
• See his poem : « Now to be flesh of a man and a woman »
(Sophia, O.C., t. II, p. 416)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
compresses, birth, mother daughter,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
I wade into the water that is my aquatic sun,
suited to perform miracles, refusing reprieve until work is done.
I exist as a modern day Hercules, striving to discover my strength,
seeking beneath the surface, striving to greater lengths.
My arms tremor, causing ships to break apart,
during my exhale, all sailors start
to curse…
yet my grunt of thunder remains the worst.
My legs propel me forward, though possessing not one gill,
the underwater highway provides an ongoing thrill.
Mere mortals I glimpse at while stifling tidal waves,
as they struggle against the current, candidates to save.
Their bodies act as limp seaweed, very weak
while others remain bloated buoys, struggling to seek
a sliver of stamina, however slight,
their sun is not yet lit, they remain in a moonless night.
My ears discover the sirens, bursting into song-
they talk of candy sweets my appetite yeans to sail along.
However, my orb of strength is not yet found,
until then, I’m forbidden to go above ground.
Below in the underworld, Hades attempts to send
fingers of flame upon me, yet my armor shall not bend.
My joints ache,
my muscles quake,
yet the ember of faith I shall not forsake.
Eventually, I remain erect, not on bowed knees,
and have resisted pain’s pitiful pleas.
A son of Zeus reaches in to grasp my hand,
his grin stretching wider than the holy land.
His eyes are that of a seaweed sage,
with a chiseled exterior only Aphrodite could have made.
His words light my face with a single shining ray,
“You’ve completed your pool exercises for the day.
Are you ready for the gym?” he asks, hoping I should stay,
and I reply, “I’m in need of hot compresses today.”
I proceed to immerse myself in towels of steam,
while considering my ultimate dream
of strengthening my image, in the future I will see
the bountiful benefits of physical therapy.
Categories:
compresses, funny, health, inspirational, recovery
Form:
Rhyme
Your chase!
Reminiscing on the oceans I had to dry up
and the volcanos I had to ice up
just to capture the epicenter of your heart
well protected by strong canines
of your carnivorous standards.
Hanging with the clouds of the highest heights
and combating with the dragons
of the Amazon Forest
was worth all the efforts.
Your Love!
shines in vitality
attracting even the goddess of sexuality
as it preserves the indwelling desires of two hearts.
We stayed isolated in the entire world
at midnight, siting on the mountain top
the moon directly above us
showcasing our shadows
melted together with no space in between.
The stars, singing hymns of love
while the trees danced to the romantic melody.
Just the two of us
and the entire universe
bridged by space full of your praise as I behold my Queen.
Whose beauty compresses the wealth of Europe
and gentleness makes
the Dove and the River team up in envy.
Your absence!
Life endeavours have fixed
putting us in an equilibrium of distance
as I perish in a state; psychiatry has no definition.
In the midst of Adult Buffalos
you leave an unprotected Cub.
You aren't gone, just far away
yet I feel like a member of a loser's club
as love has converted me to a scrub.
Thinking I'd be as worse as
a depression endemic atmophere
with loneliness and plutonic cold its major contents,
unfortunately, my heart is its suburb
completely eaten up and infected.
What can make me lay for days
in the bathub;
rejecting everything beautiful and lovely,
and the ointment of darkness I rub?
To all these my Love!
Your absence is the nub.
But I need to stay strong
as I await the purification of your presence once again.
Categories:
compresses, loneliness, lonely, love, relationship,
Form:
Rondeau
In the beginning there was a "Big Bang"
God spoke and the universe ring
Everything in the universe sing hail to the King
He said Light Be, light was and light is and always will be seen
Light and sound was heard as the universe expand on demand
All of life compresses into a single molecule
Explosion that never stop fractures matter
into galaxies, planetary systems setting to embrace eternal life
Breathing a new system of life
Through His sacrifice who paid the price
for human life.
Yes there was a big bang which still rings
the universe still sings out it's sound
nature sounds bringing new life through His sacrifice
It is Christ divine replacing embracing removing
all traces of negative places
a path that will last through eternity
What a big bang that sounds let freedom ring.
Categories:
compresses, age, beauty, bible, courage,
Form:
Rhyme
It can kill you.
The more you feed it, the more it craves
you. You try to control it, but the chemistry is
too heated up, so you are hypnotized
with it’s ability to energize you.
It makes itself clear- with it’s bright colours
and all that, but you forget to look
anywhere else, so it compresses your life into
a bizarre mess of illogical decisions.
You thinks it clarifies you, but it just
blurs everything else in a haze of ignorance,
so you lose track of size, and colour,
and time, and make yourself blind.
Sometimes you wish it was less
intense, and that you didn’t have to
always put on a show, and stand in the
centre watching them watch you.
You thought it would make you better, more
substance means more life, but it just takes
over you, so what was you, is now a tiny
fragment of it, which just keeps getting smaller.
You can’t mix with who you want now,
you have to compromise, you can’t be free,
you have to stick to it until it has completely
changed you into something different.
Sometimes you feel so small and submerged
that you can’t breathe any more. It spins you
in circles, but you’re tired, and hot, and you want
to think without it’s thoughts moulding you.
But it’s too late to break the bond you made
that time when you wanted to dance. It’s too late
to change your mind now, and pretend it never
had any effect on you. It’s too late to put it out.
So you’re stuck with it’s snakes of arms too greedy
to care anymore, and that heat long too hot,
so it scorches you alive, and that colour, which
you blindly agreed to share, when you were you.
But you ‘re used to it now.
You know that you can break free if you try
really hard, but it’s you who’s too scared to leave.
You think it will stop you, and burn you, and eat
you, but it’s you who does that to yourself.
You remember when it was the answer to
everything, and when your body was big enough
to make decisions, but your heart, too selfish.
You remember those times, and you cry.
And you think again, and you open your
eyes, and you clarify life, and you free
yourself. It may have burnt your senses,
and your thoughts, and your heart, but,
It can’t kill you.
Only you can kill yourself.
Categories:
compresses, life, lost love, love
Form:
Free verse
My love floats across the ground of my eyes.
Coming nearer to unravel love's heart,
And claim reason for its deeper sighs.
To lift these eyes, joyous love to impart.
The space between compresses ever slow.
As hearts pound deeper in their reddest flame.
To fill the distance with its golden glow,
And hold the tethered heart,this love will claim.
These lips now touched, a quivering realm.
A hunger found when quiet flesh converge.
This breathless silence comes to overwhelm,
And frees the spirit, to again immerge.
This face of beauty held with gentle hands.
A timeless world eternal love demands
12/10/15
Categories:
compresses, poetry,
Form:
Sonnet
Topsy-Turvy Love
Love turns the world upside down
slows the axial rotation
draws out passion’s sunset
compresses the hours together
shrinks the horizon to one face
cresting pillowed mountains.
5/2/2016
submitted to – Love Turns The World Around – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Nayda Ivette Negron
Categories:
compresses, confusion, love, lust, passion,
Form:
Verse
Block after block there is a man.
Outstretched hands
presenting a brown-stained
Starbucks cup.
Steadfast, I must look straight.
Businesslike gait
creating the illusion that
I have somewhere important to go.
A lie.
The air between me and the cup and the hands and the man
compresses in my brain.
Like the air in the cylinder of a diesel engine
right before spontaneous combustion.
My hands silence any loose change.
As I pass, glassy brown eyes ask “what’s up?”
A downdraft washes over me.
I can only respond “not much”
attempting to retract my arrogance.
Gunmetal blue buildings
glare down at me.
My hands remain in my pockets
still gripping the coins.
Cold to the touch.
Categories:
compresses, urban,
Form:
Free verse
He searches in the shady sides,
traces of vanished light,
a drift of the felt,
all of nuances and transitions.
Perhaps is it too early;
cold dawn maintains suspended
the pulsation of the heart,
spreading the ashes,
incomprehension of lack,
in the slow progress of space.
He flees,
beyond his control,
While he awaits any tiny sign,
any appeal, the fleeting illusion
a mirage that disappears
as we advance.
That sounds like an unfinished sculpture,
where only a few volumes are emerging,
some features, which extend in its materiality,
closed on itself.
Nothing is acquired:
he doubts even
of its own consistency,
not arriving to identify himself,
if she is not there.
This is perhaps a desire for eternity,
that compresses the time,
and reflects the symbiosis of the soul.
So when he pronounces her name,
he stumbles on stones,
comes up against the wall of silence,
as emptied of its own being;
The shadow spreads,
light sinking in it,
losing his marks
Intoxicated with tear absence .
-
RC
-
(and the original version, in french) , below...
---
Il cherche dans les côtés ombreux,
les traces de lumière évanouie,
une dérive du sentir,
toute en nuances et transitions .
Peut-être est-ce encore trop tôt ;
l'aube froide maintient suspendue
la pulsation du cœur,
répand les cendres,
l'incompréhension du manque ,
dans la lente progression de l'espace .
Il fuit,
échappant à son contrôle ,
Alors qu'il guette le moindre signe,
le moindre appel, la fugace illusion
d'un mirage qui se dissipe
à mesure que l'on avance.
Cela fait penser à une sculpture inachevée,
où seuls se dessinent quelques volumes,
quelques traits, qui se prolongent dans une matière,
fermée sur elle-même.
Rien n'est acquis :
il doute même
de sa propre consistance,
n'arrivant plus à s'identifier,lui-même,
si elle n'est plus là.
C'est peut-être un désir d'éternité,
qui compresse le temps,
et reflète la symbiose de l'âme .
Aussi, quand il prononce son nom,
il trébuche sur des pierres,
se heurte au mur de silence,
comme vidé de son propre être ;
L'ombre s'étale,
la lumière sombre en elle,
perdant ses repères,
Enivrée de la déchirure de l'absence .
-
Categories:
compresses, absence, emotions, heart, identity,
Form:
Free verse
The contrast of the
bluest sky to be
and the crispest green
seen. Make one enjoy
the colors between.
From the petals,
whites thru indigos.
Robins red; Grey
squirrely fellows.
Outside you'll
find enough
to inspire.
Brightest
desires.
Spring.
Now
Summers
here.
The sunshine
beckons all
to appear.
Wave hit beaches
invite feet's splash.
Woodlands call fourth
picnickers cache.
Families spend time
together amidst
clear warm days, into
short nights. Sharing their
laughter with delight.
Sun releases grip,
days light compresses.
Winds cool relief to
heat that oppresses.
Colors wane begins,
from brightest greens
of spring to shades
of golds and reds.
Browns of the dead.
Fresh harvest
abounds with
a bounty
of thanks
from all.
Fall!
Cold
sets in.
Darkness's
hold begins.
Colors hide
beneath the
snows white covers.
There's beauty as
each flake hovers.
Each is unique
in size and shape but
together unite
as one. Same is true
for those who snuggle
until Winters done.
Categories:
compresses, color, seasons,
Form:
Diminished Hexaverse