Best Contracting Poems
I'm fifteen darkwater dreaming or drowning
adrift and alone on the ocean of the bathroom floor
tossed on tidal waves of pain pearled with perspiration
a clattering clutch of shells contracting
shingle shushing stifled shrieks
the shucked shell of my womb
emptying like an oyster snared
by umbilicals of seaweed Far away
hazy-faint through saltwater mists I see
a little pearl glistening floating and rocking in red sea
I'm all at sea without anchor on tides a boat floating free
seeking a mooring in the harbour of the doctor's consulting room
her voice a deep dive anchoring me with subtle sympathy
through muffled underwater sounds sea-shadowy fog shawling me
I want to tell her about the dream submerged stories of a tiny pearl
maroon-mangled and foam-spangled slipping slowly from me
into scarlet sea drifting away sinking to darkwater depths
Driving home my mother's rings clink like shells against the steering wheel
and a shaming sea of silence fills the car pretty shells shucked and shocked
Categories:
contracting, baby, loss, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
Writing a poem is like giving birth to a baby.
With the copulation of fancy and thought,
Comes the moment of conception!
It swims into you as a seed, so tiny, so inconspicuous
Once pregnancy is confirmed, comes irritation, nausea
Lethargy and loss of appetite
All the while you begin to realize
That a new life, independent of you
Has begun growing inside you
Then all the care taken to foster the young life
You withdraw, take rest and relax in solitude
Slowly the fetus moves, the first stirring of life!
With fond fingers, as you pat your belly,
Your pen pats the paper.
The first line comes like the first beating of the heart!
Then words….like little harness bells tingling
Fall in line, line after line!
Drawing nourishment, the embryo grows limb by limb
The miniscule of insight, grown after months of waiting,
Into a mature body of illumination!
A stretch of your dreams! A suffusion of light!
After the labor pains of scribbling and scrawling,
Writing and rewriting, deleting, adding and editing,
With time stretching and contracting,
A baby, nay, a poem is born……
August.4.2022
~Placed Seventh~
Simile Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Hilo Poet
Categories:
contracting, angst, birth, child, inspiration,
Form:
Free verse
I come to your bedside once more,
you've poured our photos and poetry on the floor
an act of apostasy, a grim admission, the room in dim depression,
laying on your side , cheeks heated and soaked in sorrow, your joy in remission,
Refusing to look at me, as if seeing this face would invite a fatal grief,
hating me yet loving me because I am the wound waking belief,
a living scar fueling faith in the survival of our love,
needing me to be your spiritual shove,
I lay along you, gripping your tender arm, still, you do not disarm,
the tip of my nose surfs the skin of your shoulder, I smell the tears of my harm,
trying to explain that love is never wrong, that in your heart is where I belong
you roll into my chest, a gorgeous heat of anger escapes your glare,the sting strong,
in a fevered whimper, throat bubbled, you ask, how can I dare love you in absentia,
how can you love a kiss that cuts, a breath that bruises, nails of nostalgia,
oh how love makes us suffer for the truth of our hearts,
I say, there is no absence within the Absolute, a fusion of soul parts,
The onomatopoeia of my heart is ready to be splayed into you,
I kiss bite the supple muscle of your neck, you release a searing sigh
the air spiced with the oil of a woman's want,
I need the salvation of your hot opening, I yearn to super charge your core,
my balls, plump and heavy fall over your thigh, breast spread softly,
your hands enveloping my back, heels hooking around calves
the root of my Being swells to true and thick form
red oak stretching into your moistened magenta earth,
tenderloins contracting, pushing, smacking,
a metamorphosis matures to cure our crisis,
I can see in your eyes a soul that flies
on a light beam without ending,
one touch more and death will be a thing of lies,
rebuild love with me and find warmth never wanning,
we become Angels with no age
lovers without rage or confusion,
a new universe of raw pleasure and instincts sage,
dreams witnessed in the sweat and steam of sacred revolution -
J.A.B.
Categories:
contracting, i miss you, love,
Form:
Epic
I view my hand. I see an ancient land.
A melanomic crater, deep in the desert,
speaks of greedy sun-soaked days.
Wanton then. Gone now.
Sparse wispy palm trees cluster,
storm ravaged, angled randomly,
now almost invisible,
now silver in the light.
Ravines compressed in lines
symmetrical, as from space,
appearing geometric,
requiring translation,
needing understanding,
awaiting exploration.
Ahead, beyond the fault line,
mountains expand and converge,
blue-edged and rising high
above the sandy plain, sinuous,
majestic, uncharted.
Stretching and contracting
as wrinkled parchment
in a shoreline breeze,
pointing the way to the long journey’s end.
Translucent and yes still beautiful.
A multitude of moments
has slowly wrought such change.
Soul-stirring eloquence silently tells
of times and deeds long past,
though yet concealing secrets deep,
of silken dreams within a lover’s sleep,
and memories of a sweet caress,
Categories:
contracting, age, memory,
Form:
Free verse
The long shadows
are growing cooler.
Soon there will be places
where the light will no longer reach
and the river will wear
its autumn coat of leaves.
My walks are getting shorter,
contracting within a circle,
tightening in an ever diminishing
circumference around
my home. I feel a hurry
in my mind, the need
to gather and stash
what I can before being
confined to a room.
I grab swatches of sky,
reflections, the shapes
of trees, anything and everything
to stock memory
with a store of stuff
a poem can nibble on
when locked away
in a dark that seems
to have a no beyond.
Categories:
contracting, autumn,
Form:
Free verse
Intricate patterns, exotic flowers
curl into royal insignias
cultured eyes can devour
A cornucopia of colours
Like a peacock's feathers on display
expanding and contracting
those myriad Eyes ~
Visual accordions at play
All this and more
covers the floor
of my living room
Please don't step on the rug
~ and a peacock deplume
Categories:
contracting, bird, color,
Form:
Rhyme
When his hand whispers
Caressing and touching
Whimsical wishes fulfilled
With his graceful fingers
When his lips trace mine
Joining my own for a moment
Filled with inspiration, joy
Passion unfolding miracles
When his body tenses
Contracting with a sigh
Love lingers in my breast
Reminding me why I’m alive
When his words warm me
Stroking my deepest attentions
Sending wonders of adoration
To color my gray world sunny
When his feelings grow stronger
Reaching the peak of desire
Gestures of bliss fill my frame
Aching to share such a love
When his spirit is lifted up
Sharing the wonders of ardor
Prayers of joy are answered
Sending flickers of light all over
When his heart hugs my own
Sensations of elation murmur
Capturing my genuine affection
Within this fascinating adventure
Categories:
contracting, fantasy, happiness, heart, joy,
Form:
Free verse
Head
is where
ego dwells,
cajoling soul
to negate silence
and indulge in desire,
that our fickle attention
remains fixated in deep fear,
thereby confining us in darkness,
a triumph of sorts, since we’re living light.
Strange it is, that soul pays ego homage,
trauma bonding with demons conjured,
though but a thought form illusion,
haunts us moment by moment,
contracting consciousness,
veiling light of God,
ever aflame
in the cave
of our
heart.
Categories:
contracting, introspection, spiritual,
Form:
Etheree
Your shoulders are broad and strong,
Like you’ve been carrying boxes of experience,
Like you should have known better.
You block my way and–A signal
for me to move–you shrug
Shoulders lifting half an inch
To that pinpoint of a moment
When your voice echoes in my mind,
So familiar like so many others,
“Step aside, woman, this is how the world works.”
The safety of obedience is enticing.
I could move for you, I thought.
I could choose to do that.
So easy. One step to the right. So easy.
But she–has already moved for you.
A woman–has had to move her body
To make space for you in the warmth of her womb,
Your mother, built space
Within her, stretching, contracting, expanding,
Exhausting the air from her lungs so you could
fill yours.
So much has already been moved for you.
How dare you ask for more space?
How dare you ask more of any woman?
As I stand here, unmoving,
What do you see?
I have been called a muse, an angel,
The rising sun, a delicate flower, the summer
breeze;
I am a never-ending source of metaphor.
But what do you see?
Do you see an aggressive stereotype of a
feminist?
Do you see a stubborn little girl?
Do you see an inferior creature meant only to submit?
Will you ever see a warrior–
Who deals in blood,
And bleeds an ocean–
Grotesque and beautiful?
I have no armour.
I do not need an armour.
I barely scream at the pain of broken bones
As I push another you into the world.
I am–a woman.
And as that, I will stand still.
Categories:
contracting, inspirational, spoken word, strength,
Form:
Free verse
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….
Categories:
contracting, addiction, imagery, slam, society,
Form:
Blank verse
"Poetry is thin, with dark eyes and a hollow face that echoes all the time without distinction. The distinction lies in her breasts that are full of beat under her vague dress that changes colours according to the statements.
She never fails, grows old or dies but simply moves to the next place when it is time to move, to slap, to love, to incorporate the unspoken before it fades away unrecognized."
(Miranda Cambanis)
"The Unspoken Army"
it came to me this life,
I did not ask for it,
I was pushed out, not wanting the revisit at all,
one iota
as if in a dream the blinds once drawn were slowly sliding wide open; framed,
through doors to a foreign world where no one spoke my language, the light a bitter potion -
nor sensed the feels of me, the unseeing, deaf to this bleeding open wound that spoke of children stolen;
and all the stage my world turned its sunny back on me;
eyes to the ground their feet shuffled like poetic shackled legions leading towards the unleading,
best to follow the masters they could clearly see and listen like soulless puppets, vacuous and easy,
manouvred senselessly into agreement, contracting the poisonous words trusting falsehoods reverently;
faith had diminished, drowned in faithless cups of erstwhile parish tea,
the conversation took turns ripping to shreds the core of what was left of me, muted,
“...another piece of this delicious dark fruit cake dear?” this suggested patronisingly,
I shook my head sincerely, without saying one word, I smiled thin and grimly
inside my mind was forming a different kind of unspoken army,
leagues beyond the server, somewhere under my drowned sea
the bends were kicking in, it was debated would I make it to the surface
before oxygen took over the blood and water of me;
such unwanted urgency.
Candide Diderot. ‘25
"(Dancing around a shooting star)
(And every cell remembers what has taken us this far)
Feed me sunlight, feed me air
(I see images of killer whales)
Feed me truth and feed me prayers
(Sleeping in a desert trail)
(Dreaming of a parallel world where nothing ever hurts)
(Dreaming of a parallel world where nothing ever hurts)".
Categories:
contracting, muse,
Form:
Free verse
Cathie refers to you sweeties as Jack's ladies
But she should definitely include all me mateys
Also love youse guys
Right up to the skies
Sure a lot better than contracting rabies
© Jack Ellison 2015
Categories:
contracting, tribute,
Form:
Limerick
Professor Gorey
always had a story
filled wit guts and grim
til most folks around these parts
those with their full share of smarts
asked her where she grows her monolithic glory.
Grim Reaper
is not my heart's keeper
and I thank you so for asking
just what I see as our life tasking,
to face our fears as monotheistic sleepers.
Professor Gorey
how could your story
of climatic strangulations
and cataclysmic slaughter of multiple reiterations
do other than make us monotonously snorey?
Earth's story can wake you up
if you drink Her with half-full inducting cup
rather than gulping with competition
while choking for want of cooperation
between what's contracting down
why's polytheistic up.
What is this mystery
we cannot see?
of breathing ego down while eco-up,
soothing prickly cats by playing gooey pups,
confusing what might become communion
with how we choose to competitively be?
You've asked me well
so I must tell,
my deep gory fertile mystery
of permaculture ecosystemic history
is what makes our regenerating health
co-evolve so cooperatively swell,
overcoming LeftBrain v RightBraun
disassociated hell.
Categories:
contracting, creation, culture, dark, environment,
Form:
Limerick
Today wasn’t a good morning at all for Hassan,
a victual merchant in Baghdad
Thirty four customers got killed by a suicide bomb
A jihadist Arab wearing an explosive vest,
proclaiming to be fighting against the west,
ended up only murdering his own people
The sun rising on the eastern horizon
cast a bloody pale
Screams and sobs, weeps and wails
Ambulance sirens blaring ... death is a hard item to sell
Innocent people shopping for meat, dairy, nuts and fruit,
in a tragic transaction bought the farm
The sign outside the market said half-off,
it didn’t mean exiting with half a leg or one arm
Somehow, Hassan in dust-covered anger survived
He was one of the fortunate few to make it out alive
with every body part intact, except his calm Iraqi mind;
it keeps expanding and contracting
in violent, kinetic convulsions a million times
from such a vile, humanitarian crime
Anxiety fruit flies hover over unsold crates of apricots,
seething vengeance
ferments the not bought bottles of apple vinegar
Mass killing is always bad for business —
a lot of potential repeat customers will only
come to the open air stalls one time
Nobody wants to buy ripe pomegranates, fresh goat milk
and vintage premature dying
Terrorism is bad for consumerism,
fanatical death wish ain’t good for the merchant gift registry
Not when buying a bouquet of flowers becomes a morgue delivery
Suicidal shrapnel kisses don’t welcome tourism,
foreigners eschew dying on vacation ... death ain’t an easy item to sell
Prayer vigil purchases of screams and sobs, weeps and wails
Hassan says business has been bad
ever since that fatal, holiday dawn mourn
Only rueful disaffection comes
with the bagging of the cabbage and corn
Categories:
contracting, dark, death, truth, wisdom,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
God moves a universe
like a child playing marbles...
Holds the shooter
between the thumb and index finger.
At the speed of light planets collide
galaxies whirl in a sea of miracles.
Shattering the taw called impossible.
Colored explosions- space and time.
Expanding contracting breathing existing.
A billion years dancing without witness...
Planets blue
planets green-
planets in the beginning
planets at the end
planets full of living-
planets filled with death...
The great contraction soon comes.
Everything that ever will be
and that ever was...will be crushed.
The voices and footsteps.
The wars and the loves.
Everything played out before.
(on the rosary of God).
Hail Mary full of grace
take us to infinity-infinity's pristine grave.
Categories:
contracting, death, life, time, universe,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue