Best Converged Poems
On the eve of All Saints Day known as Halloween
We've a night where nothing is ever as it seems
Abraham, Martin and John hosted a grand ball
In heaven’s huge castle, a white marble town hall
Dancing and singing just like every other day
One old soul grew weary of celebrating this way
She found nothing special in the harps and trumpets
A more exciting venue she had come to covet
St. Peter partied, his gate was unattended
So to a room below the bored soul descended
A place where heavy metal was all the rave
Deadheads converged to stomp violently on graves
She was tempted to join in their revelry
As demons eyed her with curious envy
One grabbed her halo, howled when it burned his hands
Others confronted her with obscene demands
Only then did she recall escaping this place
When God sacrificed his son, mortal sin to erase
Although hands of the wicked tried to hold her down
She struggled, pushed forward and made her way uptown
Fearfully she cried while knocking on heaven’s gate
St. Peter found her in this emotional state:
“Why didn’t you learn to resist temptation,
During your tenuous Earthly incarnation?”
At a loss for an answer, she pled for mercy
And Peter felt inclined to deem her unworthy
But the Master heard her prayers, granted a reprieve
He blessed her and uttered, “Welcome home again, Eve.”
Her departure from Eden seemed so long ago
And now most certainly one thing she did know
She should have stuck with Adam when he first said, “No”
Instead of bobbing for apples with the demons below
* For Tony Brooks' “Halloween Hustle” contest
With pen I write to thee, Elizabeth
Whose comments I have noticed notably
No words can describe inspirations width
That thou has given unto my poetry
When writers block crippled my mental thought
Your adoration for my poems emerged
And distant from the Soup feeling distraught
Your views and kind reviews calmly converged
How could I tell, How should I know, My love
Are titles that your talents tell in rhyme
For you yourself, an author whom I love
Hath seasoned stanzas with the herb of thyme
Though distant as the lost and troubled winds
I hope to always be poetic friends
Here I remain where my destiny pointed
Followed the path with a twist at each turn
Long was the road that appeared ever changing
After these years you would think I could learn
Safe in her arms feeling nothing could hurt me
Fingers entwined and her lips made of fire
Maple leaf dreams should have lasted forever
All that I wanted, my every desire
Open doors closed with their locks tightly bolted
Windows reflecting each shadow I see
Pulled a direction no fighting could waiver
Darkness converged on the image of me
Listening to echoes of words never spoken
All by myself on a wall made of stone
Hoping my tears are enough now to drown me
It had to be, I am destined alone
It was a dark wet night...rain over head..
Sheltered us close.....an umbrella red.
Breathing moonlight ....in your silent air.
My eyelids closed ..inside your hug and care.
The fragrance of water ...intoxicating wine.
I was drunken deep... in the fruit of your vine.
Soaking showers trickled...the transcending time .
Redundant words played... a rhyming pantomime.
A kiss smelling vanilla... whispered all untold.
My face cupped inside.....your soft fingered fold.
I quenched my thirst ...in your sea ...submerged.
In the red umbrella hideout....our lips converged.
Did I catch cold in the rain? Or is it your shiver?
The ripple of your touch? A wave made me quiver.
Ardent affection .... relieved a fancy dream...
Revealed the reality.....of a love supreme.
Dated 8th November 2018
Submitted to the Red Umbrella Poetry Contest
Sponsor Eve Roper
PLACED FIRST IN CONTEST
Walking through the streets of my home town
Reaching for the Memories of days long passed
Seeing nothing of what I once knew
Accepting the fact
That I can never go back
To the time when doors remained unlocked
And no one ever knocked
When a whole section of town converged on one home
A death in the family brought neighbors to your door
There was a sense of community and
Dignity was not a status symbol
Wednesday's the miner rested
In the afternoon possibly at a local bar
While clothes lines decorated back yards
Clorox making it new again
Found a quarter equals five on the pinball unless
She was there
Making three and two cokes a better selection
Baseball glove dangling from the handlebars and
there was no charge for dreams
The park beckoned the wild bunch with a pack of Luckies
Never thinking twelve was too young
And not knowing
The tragedy of progress
Those days when friendships bonded a town
Anger only lasted until the fight was finished
There was a game tomorrow night
Winner and loser going to see it together
And the only real enemy was
TIME.
Words dissolved like crystals on my tongue
Moisture filled my mouth, my jaws converged
City lights shimmered in the distance
Wings bashed the air, passed the yellow Moon,
Our footsteps slowly fell into synch
And I wondered, what about your smile?
Busy bees were buzzing in my head
Inspiration came to me like fire!
“Hi, I’m Bat Man “I said, “Here for you!”
“Superhero number one”, you smiled!
I stretched my imaginary cape
Laid it at your feet, “Madame” I cried!
That’s how I imagined we could be-
Me so gallant and you so carefree-
Three trains
The first train was bereavement, in the cab the driver died
pulling a coach of grieving souls, unknowing yet, inside
The second train was unemployed and heading where it will
no scheduled destination and so many miles to kill
Third train was steaming in real fast, relationship express
out of control, the brakes applied but flat out, nonetheless.
Where the tracks all crossed was a signal box, manned by a crew of one
who bumbled by from day to day not knowing what was wrong.
But up there in the box he heard, and from all sides could see
the trains approach their final stop, and that last stop was me.
Bereavement got there first and there was nothing I could do
no lights nor signals made a difference, it just ploughed on through
as unemployed converged at speed and rolled on to it's side
the pair of them went in nose first as relationship arrived
the signal box was crushed beneath, it didn't stand a chance
buried in the twisted wreck of flaming circumstance.
Shock finally subsided and the smoke began to clear
just left with total darkness and no way from out of here
all the wreckage pressing down meant nowhere else to go
just curl up in a tiny ball, try not to move, get low.
So there I stayed as unbeknown their night turned into day
the sounds of all around me going on their merry way.
Many days entombed were spent, not praying for release
comfortable in misery, my loneliness my peace
until the silence broken by a piercing warning shout,
'No rescue's due, it's up to you to dig your passage out'.
From where the voice had come from I could neither hear nor see
until the realisation that the sound had come from me
skin tearing on the razor steel I slowly fought my way
and finally emerged, bathed gratefully in the light of a new day.
No fanfare, and no wild applause, no ticker tape parade
life went on, oblivious to the escape that I had made.
Since then I've built another box around me, much much stronger
and hope the time till the next train will be, Lord, much much longer.
For contest 'Get low', sponsored by Casarah Nance
In memory of that dreadful year 2002.
I woke in the backseat ‘cause sleeping is what I did - -
I hid when we had a many state, family vacation ride.
Daddy said that this time, we would drive straight thru five.
Mama’s hair back was smashed headrest flat cause Sis
pressed against her and they were sleeping like that.
Brother was pressing his back window with his face,
his nose smearing glass, his amusement surely in place.
Dad was focused on a radio baseball game.
Seeing all was good, I found my travel toy case
for safe car play. In no time, pretending took me away.
Soon, noise-crazy frightening, sound attacked and blurred.
“WHAT IN THE WORLD!” was Dad’s first reaction heard.
Many horns HONKED with urge, then cars CRASHED, SWERVED,
two BANG converged, others went BOOM, BUMP up a curb.
Sirens blared, well-lit, brakes were hit, Dad cussed a fit,
Mama and sis stirred. Mama murmured something like ‘absurd’,
While Dad let loose the worst of his really bad, ugly words.
Quickly, I let go of the toy I was holding out my window.
Who knew Slinky's at eighty miles per hour weren’t simple?
Then, without uttering a single concern,
I faked sleep as though I’d never emerged.
For hours my parents could be heard wondering
what had caused traffic to be so disturbed
and thanking God our family wasn’t hurt.
'Twas the month before Christmas
When inside the house
The housewife was quiet
There's no sound, not even a grouse
When all of a sudden
There arose such a clatter
Even the Chihuahua came running
With tail tucked and in a chatter
Our grandson came running faster then Santa
In his magical sleigh
We all converged in the hall with this to say
Was that my husband, PawPaw or ???
Dear 'ole Claus who arrived to stay
They sprang into action
Found the backdoor jammed
Ran out the front
Found PawPaw whammed!
He had crash landed
And not on the roof
Driving grandma's sleigh
He tried to enter the den
What was wrong with him?
Grandma's wheels now undrivable
PawPaw embarrassed with this feat unsolvable
Tail-tucked Chihuahua scared out of his wits
Don't any of them know what to think of this
Well, when it is all said and done
My car was towed away
The den's damage surveyed
All the cost we still can't say
It has taken a toll on everyone
I think we need to go play
Nerves all jangled
Heart beating fast
Sleep eludes me
Somehow soon
It will all be in the past
Thank you, God
For your protection
I could have been in the den
In the push-button recliner total relaxation
The car could have kept going
That would have been a horrible end, my friends!!!
This happened this past Wednesday night at my home. That was on November 17, 2021. I have not been getting out much since the COVID outbreak and my husband went out to go to church then the next thing I knew the above was what happened. We are okay. No one hurt just scary, expensive and we still don't know what we are facing with all the repairs. Definitely not as bad as the picture. He said his foot slipped off the brake and hit the accelerator and he hit the house before he could get his foot back on the brake.
There is no need for blades of steel.
Now, missiles and bombs do the job.
To warmongers that has appeal.
Man might someday be one big blob.
Yes. Fighting commenced long ago.
It started with Able and Cain.
Cain killed with a rock, not a bow.
Continuous envy … insane!
There were wars before 1 B. C.
The Battle of Kadesh was one.
‘Though it ended with a treaty,
Bloodshed for power had begun.
There was Alexander the Great.
His thrusting spear won many wars.
And the deaths never did abate.
Killing is what Heaven abhors.
There were Greek wars and Cretan War.
Caesar’s Invasion of Britain,
Roman Wars and the Chinese War.
Enemies they would stab or Bludgeon.
Weapons of war were of metal.
Armor did not end the bloodshed.
Back then, like now, death was brutal.
Blood bathed killing in the world … spread.
Back in the Eighteenth Century,
Freedom and brotherhood converged.
Engraved, a sword blade said boldly.
Free people are brothers … life urged.
Gone, all those years, yet, man still kills.
Freedom has brought joy to many.
Brotherhood builds a bond and thrills.
Freedom gives its joy to any.
Teach trust; then, live and love in peace.
We must encourage and applaud.
Anger and hatred has to cease.
Each of us is a child of God.
And that makes all of us brothers.
There is no need for blades of steel.
We must all love one another.
Then, peace on Earth will become real.
1/16/2017
Inspired by the contest, the Contest:
The Swords Speak
My Lost Legacy
At the land’s end I stand, like my ancestors of Indus-Valley
Looking for my lost legacy, while the tri-sea emitted in hue
Dishes once prepared for celestial wedding but poured in adieu
Into its mouth, as sand, shells and beads, in repeated dilly-dally.
At the land’s end I stand, like rishi Agastya, who captured
Whole River in his rage, once stood here on mission to level
Peninsula Bharat as world converged for Siva’s marital revel
In Himalayas; if crow marooned his rage, row my riches ruptured.
At the land’s end I stand, like Parasurama who in a sober mood
Once wielded his axe pushing Arabian Sea to make a land, lush
With peppers, heating even snake Vasuki to vomit in holy blush;
If paternal command made his matricide, fratricide pursued our feud.
At the land’s end I stand where once stood Ramakrisna’s disciple
After stirring conscience of world in Chicago; beyond here was held
Assembly of great litterateurs ere the second was in temple city held;
If ocean immersed my land and literature, emotion forged our typal.
At the land’s end I stand still, as hands of time forever pull sun
From eastern bay in its zeal of morn, only to push it down western
Sea sealing day on its rolling wheel; legacy once to powers western
I lost; I seek once again, striving with vigor tirelessly like the sun.
There is someone,
writhing in pain,
longing to speak to you,
for once, again,
Fifty one years
lost sorrows to gain,
Life did start,
All over again,
She was your inspiration,
You were her gem,
up until,
the day of reckoning came,
In you mantle, stood four men,
crafted with hands in a distant continent,
that your father had brought,
along with the pain
Dreadful thought
of parting again
Life took different paths,
different ways it went
Until the day it converged again
Catching a star, rushing forward the frigate,
Through the storm ahead, the bowsprit of his high,
But ahead all the same abyss without borders,
The desert of black waters in silence of latitudes.
Cracks and groans bom-topgallant topmast,
Chiseling strong ezelgof,
Mars and Ray converged with parrel in battle,
With a dream - to get rid of the shackles.
The wave growls, rolling terribly,
And with the power of the wind jib-boom mast on the beats,
And a low, menacing sound of the cello,
It is suddenly heard from the blackening heights,
That drill groans together with a heavy wind,
The key of the forgotten Symphony are trying to find,
And torn violin strings - moaning times through the centuries,
And killed the brave men among depths.
The thunder storm is rushing with noise, howling,
Shaking stars in heavens,
And the thunder echoes it a disparate,
And the frigate is hurtling on the sails.
To all known shades, O virtuous Hinds,
With peerless hunger of a sordid kind:
Cover your ears. Cover
Your spirit.
Do not
Put the watered pot beneath the sun, that neutral sun
That struggles not to save you, but shall come undone,
Unraveling some haunting memory
You cannot help but don
Like your favorite sweater unsewn, not forgotten,
For it was you who was rotten.
Do Not Enter.
Like me, you chuckled. Yes, who are they
To force us away? Who are they, indeed.
I shall make a deal with you, friend:
In my hand is the answer why you mustn't descend.
Valhalla…Valhalla…I stood without weapon.
And then…no.
Our hands have not yet converged for shake,
So why do you recoil?
Is it truly, truly, and marv'lously apparent
that the Spleen lives in my soil?
The sea gallons
Through a funnel.
The funnel
in the Tunnel of Love
in the Tunnel of William
in the Tunnel of dark matter;
A face stuck in the mirror shall shatter.
Emerald City. Do Not Enter.
Do
You Understand?
For as the hands of an evil flower give a soundless scream
I reach for the shaving cream—
Nick my neck. I wish to own that neck.
Stand right here without a trace, come through my eyes,
and now, Dear Wise: Do You
Dance? Where art thou lance? And my stance:
I fear that I cannot perform advanced
A flying trapeze peripheral hand-stand.
Curiously down on a fresh wick,
Curiouser and Curiouser
Is the world's smile—but who shall be there
To see only the smile
And not the body
Smiling?
The Ice after the Fire
Syncopating?
I shall wonder and ache, pale and queasy...
I shall hear Reap wed to Infinity oblique for us
The sabers slake to sell my musk
The sun glides into the room
My room
Lacking light,
Backsliding sunlight from a desire-glot,
Though Desire has served me well.
About as well
As a tumble down three old flights of stairs,
whence I've chuckled into a box of airs,
asking, O, Where?
An old man keeling down by a gravestone
cleans the inscription so it can be read.
For it’s a symbol of why he had come
“Love Is Eternal” was all that it said.
Wiping a tear, his expression glazes
sorting out memories he swore to keep.
And then he began to whisper his thoughts
his lips wearing a smile borrowed from sleep.
Do you remember our first Halloween
picking out a pumpkin in the hot sun?
And how we craved up that orange giant
bubbling over with excitement and fun.
A kaleidoscope of leaves played the wind
as they danced in tune with each fresh breeze.
And our hearts converged in the autumn chill
admiring the shear beauty of the trees.
Our hands gently touched and we laughed out-loud
a happy sound filling our hearts with joy.
And smells of summer’s bounty spiced the air
arousing the man stirring in the boy.
Our trust grew as inhibitions were shed
and leaning on hope we shared our first kiss.
For that night two innocent naive hearts
fell in love, while experiencing bliss.
I recall splashes of sugar maples
blazing in mosaics of scarlet and gold.
And memories only love can retrieve
treasured pages within a book grown old.
Promising he’ll see her again in time
the old man slowly rises to his feet.
For winter now stalks his bones, life’s too short
and death encroaches at summer’s retreat.