Best Cores Poems
"We can't ever fathom,
when the ceasing flicker of hope
flutters away,
and
escapes to an
endless forest;
the only charm in this
spellbound life is,
to chase that
scarred saffron second
and hue it with our own
enchanting light..."
As the fiddling
crescent basks
in this reborn moonrise,
I slowly blanket
my soul with
shivering sighs
of frozen stars,
as they trickle
down my lungs
and echo a
scentless spring,
where oceans
yearn to feel
the kiss of
floral zephyrs,
tickling their
turquoise sirens.
Perhaps,
I was once a
lifeless snowdrop,
a stygian silhouette
of midnight which
wrapped those
neon skies,
as black ice
melted in cores,
when pain became
my melancholic
soulmate and no
philosopher's stone
could turn this
solemn melody,
into sapphire ruins
of remedy.
Since my spirit
has hibernated
in this crystal castle -
I've been waltzing
in a wondering,
did my eyes
loose their dazzle
and become mere
colourless dots
of an oil pastel
portrait, as
this quill turned
vengeful for
its own spirit?
Did I break
my own heart,
by watering the
macabre of miracles?
Fading in
marigold mangroves
that whisper to
my delicate muse,
I feel the breaths
of mirthful wingbeats,
ricocheting and
making me swoon
over a pedestal of
pure sunrays.
Have I always
been this alive,
where these pulses,
reverberating
in my chestnut skin,
could wake me up
from the crestfallen
slumber?
Now, as these
topaz horizons
unfold their
golden carpet,
embroidered with
velvet peonies
and silk carnations,
I slowly bloom,
with a princess-cloak
of fluffy feathered
petals, resting
upon the crown of
emerald leaves,
bathed in chic
chocolaty lakes, as,
~ an empyrean lotus.
So, reminisce me
evermore, as an
imperfect lyric
of a dusky
peach pixie,
leaving footprints
of faith in a
muddy reverie,
for, on the
bluebell crest
of lush earth,
reigns this
rosy Cleopatra,
rhyming with
jeweled perfumes
of tomorrow.
Cityscape
The artist’s hand reshapes yesterday
In straight lines
Of hard edges -
Peaks of
Right angles perfected
Missing oblique or obtuse –
Claiming the horizon
In full frontal
Silhouette
Cut from ebony shades,
When daylight sinks into the shadows
And twilight goes down meeting midnight
One dimension pyramids,
Floors layered by steel reinforced
Triangulated honeycombs,
Octagonal rounds
Gather cotton clouds
Topping off their naked crowns,
Lofty spires
Scrape the midnight
To gather far flung stars
Flat rectangles with jute box tops
Soar with arches -
Lines leaping up and sliding down -
Squares low and squat,
Took up their space,
Yanked from the line,
Openings left
Like toothless
Grinning;
Concealed within the cityscape unblinking
The murmurings of urban sighs,
No rise and fall of breathing,
Foundation’s feet bound in stone
Swaying only when magnum cores
Tremble moving plates east to west, north to south;
Unseen
The doorway cradle songs
Of shivering dreams,
Desperation
Pacing
On the nineteenth floor
Fauna’s night perfume
Floating up behind dark floral gates
Of swirling iron
Grids of neighbors – blocks of neighborhoods -
Graphs of boulevards winding round,
Absent from the cityscape.
Inspirational verse – “When the lights go down in the city and the sun shines on the bay; do I want to be there in my city….I want to be there in my city.” Journey
Wrapped in the solitude of one blessed night
the moon-eyed moon wanders lightly and alone
inside a vast and deep, darkly expansive sky
Dark cores of light glide
through a dormant ether,
as butterfly shadows play softly against
a dense canopy of leaves.
A still figure appears as if by chance,
underneath the cadence of the light,
swaying like wavering puppets on a string
she meditates on
the fast appearing stars ...
Creating magic from the tatters of the night
she's an invisible wand to the world
but unto thyself, she is as full, as the moon.
We read each other so perfectly
two minds with a single thought,
when we combine, baby it's explosive
chemistry like ours cannot be taught.
The electricity gets me jumping
and attacks the heart's beat,
this experiment you concocted
has revived the frog's feet.
Like a volcanic lava lamp
an eruption of emotion flows,
the heat welds me to you
our bond that nobody knows.
We met inside this classroom
where my opposite attracted to yours,
like magnetized paperclips
we were linked right from our cores.
We're closer than Dr. Jekyll was
to his hidden self, Mr. Hyde,
but, I can take you by the hand
as we go along for the ride.
The flying sent projections free to see,
from adjunct Astrals singing bold decree.
Perched on Pisces’s cusp, forsaking Plato’s cave,
Puppets casting shadows, chancing me a slave.
They hang from dreams of higher forms, allures
Contempt in self when loving carnal cores.
Haunted by women’s passions kept in Spirits,
Dawns my sleeping stages now inherits
Marionettes aloft eternal twists
of spinning truths with lies recalling trysts.
Killing prone volitions, changing essence.
Chosen starlight’s beings guiding presence.
Upon a love in purest form demands,
Forgotten suicides of ego strands.
Risking Pirsig’s fate in Zen and journey,
Waging sanity, a bounty worthy.
The stringing of my soul and bracing seeks,
A pulling truth beyond this death it speaks.
------------------------------------------------------------
Alternating stanzas of iambic and trochaic pentameter
THE ALL POWER IS GREATER!
The Big Bang designed the stratosphere and troposphere.
Below both majestic presence, Earth is the topography.
Today, all God’s creature roams freely.
Human being munificence is magnanimousness.
Now sits a child fulfilled.
She has her ink pen.
She aspires to be a writer – a great poet someday.
She is real to a righteous path.
Her themes and topics display a certain initiative.
God’s kind of poetry she leitmotifs vigorously and the melodies manifested.
A theological epitome inner cores and personification of the spirit went aglow.
Her radiance was beautiful.
Her voice recited the glory of the omnipotent.
God had sent the gift of psalm and she embraced him with open arms.
Baptism converted her soul to be a modern-day Apostle of the Lord God.
Prophecy she formed.
Wisdom and knowledge was born.
Her innateness was so strong that she was a natural.
Her libretti brought smiles.
When a release was necessitated from emotional dismay, her librettos bring
hope and puts God’s speed in place.
The Lord God sent the gift of psalm.
In a whisper, is the strength of voice.
The Lord God provides the power.
The people exclaim, “This is God’s kind of poetry.”
Eloisa proclaims, “This is praise and worship of the omnipotent."
___________________________________________|
PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 19, 2014 @ 12:48 A.M.!
Challenge Title "God's Kind Of Poetry' Contest!
Hard is the rock, yet it does roll, beneath the oceans
Swift currents its rough edges become smooth, rounded
But it makes no sound; it is the silence of stone.
Gray is granite, as markers grave marker, yet in times
Harshness the names that speak for a life lost, is vanquished
Do to erosion and the elemental tides of nature, thus is the
Silence of stone reinforced.
Cast down are the mountains of greatest beauty, due to
The ravishing of time, natural monuments reaching upwards
Unto the very heavens themselves, yet these are divine alpines,
Remain left in the shadow of the silence of stone, unable to speak.
Burn does not the eternal soul of our world, a cores heart of flame,
Heating our inner desire to thrive and survive as a species, but if it’s
Fiery furnish pilot light flickered out, turning our planet inside and out.
Would we be able to cry out for helps support, nay behold the true silence
Of stone.
Ideal statues of forbidden deities, stand covered beneath the
Rain forest canopies of the past, nay forgotten by their idol
Worshipers, vanquished, crippled they do crumble to the ground,
Banished Gods, in the silence of stone.
Grinding, cutting humanity tries in vain to leave its eternal
Mark, for generations in the future to know that we existed,
Carving epic figures amongst the rocky tops most high,
But we are the dinosaurs of our own mortality,
And in this venue, behold the stone remains
Silent not revealing our existence.
As the thundering asteroid giants of heaven, cascade
Ever closer to us from above, the world still casts
Rocks of ignorance against their kindred brethren,
Denying that the collision is due to happen no
Matter what.
But stone never shatters, it’s solid,
And it weighs heavy on the intellectual mind,
But stone ears remain dual of sound, again
The silence is deafening.
Hard is the rock, yet it does roll, beneath the oceans
Swift currents its rough edges become smooth, rounded
But it makes no sound; it is the silence of stone.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Walking down the evening avenue,
I look straight ahead, and see
The sea of people part before me. Each
Rushing in their separate directions, not making
Eye contact. I want to reach out and feel
For myself that they are real. It occurs
To me that nothing, no one, ever touches.
It is as if we are all surrounded by impenetrable bubbles,
And we spend our whole lives
Passing, avoiding, maybe brushing, sometimes even
Desperately touching
Each other—
But we never make real contact.
Surely we are not to blame.
The structure of the very atoms that build this world
Betrays us. Strong cores, positive and inseparable,
Surrounded by a frenzied cloud of negativity.
Like charges repel, and electrons
Will never swallow their pride
And kiss their neighbor.
So our bodies are left hovering
Over the earth, our hands hovering over
One another, a mother’s lips hovering just above her
Child’s hair. Even in our most intimate moments
We are all separated by this thin, impossibly small layer
Of nothingness.
It is cruel, and yet, there are good reasons why
We cannot touch.
Touch and witness the crumbling of things,
As the chasms that hold us to together close
And tear us apart. Witness as flesh
Melts into flesh into the Earth.
Witness as the Earth melts into itself,
Into space, into the greater void.
Touch and witness an endless chain of nuclear fusion.
Witness irreconcilable sameness.
Witness chaos.
Touch and witness the end of everything
That you longed, for so long, to touch.
All this and yet, the ache remains.
Is it any wonder, that we all feel incomplete?
my angel, fallen ...
gossamer linen, violet lace
window-dressing body, pressing
goddess of unblemished grace
beckoning - urge reckoning
clasp me, push me ... down with you.
close, to see my eyes in yours
heart of darkness, warm and artless
measured with our carnal cores
fallowed - soon, unhallowed
pull me, draw me ... down with you.
savor sweet, your taste is mine
greedy swallows fill my hollows
faultless form, engorged supine
whetted - blade unfettered
cut me, rend me ... down with you.
pity, fawn to take me in
I, the frozen quarry, chosen
bartered virtue, ceded sin
merging - madness surging
gather me, wrench me ... down with you.
each dynamic sates a thirst
a darkened oath devours both
raptured sighs so unrehearsed
spasm - plunging chasm
drench me, drown me ... down with you.
painted nails to flay my frame
stripes of lust, a jealous trust
lesions roused for fervor's flame
unversed - do your worst
stain me, rake me ... down with you.
feral places, once denied
cognate parts to blackened hearts
souls and selves we can't divide
twisted - double-fisted
grind me, burn me ... down with you.
sing to me a siren's wail
rip the rhyme from all sublime
watch the frenzied portions flail
disguised - hell, improvised
smite me, drag me ... down with you.
all in, my angel ... fallen
so sweetly, and
so deeply
down.
with.
you.
** This is a poetic form I created called “Torridelle”, (not the actual shape, but the rhyme scheme, phrasing and metre). **
~
~ 2nd Place ~ in the Poetry Soup "Wow Me" Poetry Contest, Nina Parmenter, Judge & Sponsor.
Why don’t you come now
To the plot of blue river shore
Where we would
In an intense chocolate mood
Sit in a sun rise satisfaction
On the grainy sand
And create pearl drops of time
From the rhymes of waves
With the vibrancy we behaved
Exchanging those fine chimes
From our moonbeam dialectics
And converging synthesis
Of our hilltop thoughts and marine activities
After a diamond quest
Like the river
Or inside the river too?
How wonderfully we regressed and progressed
Making those radiant rings of time
Sometime winged
Sometime pink tinged
Time is bland and monochrome
Unless from your chromosome
You paint it like Van Gogh
Arresting the wayward clock
During which
Regardless of Greenwich
Taking colours from our river-wave flowers
Taking flavours from our cellular tremors
Taking sounds from our nascent heart pounds
Yours and mine
In our proximity alkaline
Would paint the wavelets
In the cups and plates
Opening the normally closed gates
Of sweet sweats
From each pore
And millions of such pores
From smiling to laughing in a petrichor
Unlocking the thousand doors
Of a colour continuum
From San Francisco to Baltimore
As we exchange our breath
From our deepening cores
Raising a rivulet
In the blue pigeon’s breast
And the bulbul’s beautiful crest
A supreme rest
In a purple tumult
Shadows lengthen in ecstasy
As sessions come to a termination
(No termination is possible though
What happens is a slow transformation
Of one melody to another music
Speeches flowing into lyrics
The sounds into stillness mystic)
So therefore
Bringing to the fore
From the amalgamated core
A flower of fusion
Pure and fresh
Out of the flood
No mire or mud
Looking at us conveying greetings
We look too
And from the meeting
A poem is born
Why don’t you come any more
Very often I look through the eye hole
Of my expectant door
The wishes naturally soar
In case I may see you coming
Dulcet sounds your feet strumming
But it’s all mist
I almost don’t exist
I miss the oasis
Of the cleansing catharsis
_____________________________________
19 May, 2017
For the Contest sponsored by Neyda Ivette Negron
Voices bottled up, far away…out of reach
I still hear them, echoing in my brain
I try not to believe the fear—the disdain
So long I have avoided their gaze,
But here they are again, at a distance—
All ablaze!
I toughened my shell that night,
From the amplified words drenched in my hands
I cried so many tears for no words came
Unionized by grief and frustration,
How could I ever embrace such abandon?
I thought I could recognize by the fruits
As they were right before my eyes
But within their very cores,
Tears blur the rotten cries
The very words and deeds unspoken—untold
The very truth you tamper and mold
As fists clench—as confused youth look on!
He fashioned you with gold!
I hear gleeful harsh warnings—poetry—of the collateral damage of my brothers
Running up and down the streets—rampant to get at others
I try to see the beauty in every single shade
But now, all I can do is pray
Voices bottled up, far away…out of reach
I still hear them, echoing in my brain
I try not to believe the fear—the distain
So long I have avoided their gaze,
But here they are again, at a distance—
All ablaze!
All I can do I can do is pray
All I must do is pray
As the fumes of the anger light up today
Destroying all trapped inside
Splitting the atoms of our faith
I promise you will fall!!!
How gleeful you all are!
I promise the unity is all a dream
Nothing’s like it seems
Inside, I feel blood boiling, but I cringe
Refusing to add to the chaos
My voice box bludgeoned by their fears
Replaced with stranger’s tears
Too long have I avoided my gaze
In the mirror showing nothing but the hardened
Unable to recognize the rot within
I stay…I pray
Until true words heal and answers free
And the rest I leave in the hands that see
Here they are again
Within me, around me
Surrounding me
Frozen—cold… unfeeling, BOLD.
He fashioned us with gold
He fashioned us with gold
You're my love boat, and I am yours:
you're the rudder, and I'm the oars.
I am your challenge, you're my dare,
and God's answer to my prayer:
when I take a breath, you're the air.
You found me scared behind locked doors
and took me to see foreign shores,
revealing a world waiting there.
For we're soulmates.
We've fought battles, but never wars,
refereeing games without scores.
Feeling the flames of passion flare,
our love forged one heart, that we share;
melded together at our cores.
For we're soulmates.
* This is a rather intricate form I created called a “Torridelle” - I hope you enjoy it! *
~
my Angel, fallen ...
gossamer linen, violet lace
window-dressing body, pressing
goddess of unblemished grace
beckoning - urge reckoning
clasp me, push me ... down with you.
close, to see my eyes in yours
heart of darkness, warm and artless
measured with our carnal cores
fallowed - soon, unhallowed
pull me, draw me ... down with you.
savor sweet, your taste is mine
greedy swallows, fill my hollows
faultless form, engorged supine
whetted - blade unfettered
cut me, rend me ... down with you.
pity, fawn to take me in
I, the frozen quarry chosen
bartered virtue, ceded sin
merging - madness surging
gather me, wrench me ... down with you.
each dynamic sates a thirst
a darkened oath devours both
raptured screams yet unrehearsed
spasm - plunging chasm
drench me, drown me ... down with you.
painted nails to flay my frame
stripes of lust, a jealous trust
lesions roused for fervor's flame
unversed - do your worst
stain me, rake me ... down with you.
feral places, once denied
cognate parts to blackened hearts
souls and selves we can't divide
twisted - double-fisted
grind me, burn me ... down with you.
sing to me a siren's wail
rip the rhyme from all sublime
watch the frenzied portions flail
disguised - hell, improvised
smite me, drag me ... down with you.
all in, My Angel ... fallen
so sweetly, and
so deeply
down.
with.
you.
Today, the sun shone brightly over our shores.
Peering over the forest and meeting the cores
We share fundamental truths across the waterways.
across the grasslands, then onto the Himalayas.
Past somatic feelings are cognitively preserved.
Spirit is the natural extension of cognition.
Spirit and mind foresee the body, the spirit swerved.
Together, the mind and body create resolution.
The universe's sound is centered around silence.
A quiet that gives rise to that sound—its essence
Silence increases, dilates, expands, and evolves.
It's able to watch the blooming of other carves.
It is as copernican as the light we pass through.
Pedagogical schools have the same faint glow.
Solving math, questioning the past, or visual atom.
"I have a dream," I was told, to be in a ruling stratum.
Our lives connect us to grains and corncobs.
warmed by miners and dry wind turbine jobs.
Sugarcane is used to acquire paper and rubber.
My father's hands were swollen from scrubber.
Our biggest mistake was playing the drama alone.
as if life were a subtle crime without atone.
Denying respect is feeling neglected in a cage.
Shouts were buried by choruses, width, and rage.
Let the beat off your loneliness and start talking.
Your warmth tends to compile the kettle singing.
The world's fauna and birds are plainly unique.
Your life is ready and waiting for its peak.
Written: December 29, 2022
In heat
the pulse of your streets.
I've heard the crack
of hard political whips
that pinch the air.
Cores of human topography,
your aging neighborhoods.
Your people kick cans
counting gravel like jewels,
while chiselers roast dogs
in the courthouse.
Swine flu kills
the papers.
And already the sky is
feverish.
In your train tunnels
a violinist plays pianissimo.
I've seen
railroad men search for him
along your tracks.*
But you are always
the sweltering sore
of the Atlantic.
A rusty mouth
for dark ships.
A blind brick town
of boarded storefronts
and ***** flicks,
you are buried.
Brown bag your way
to the last alley.
The tenants throw
rocks at your windows.
The rain has stopped
washing your sewers.
*From an old legend of
railroad workers on the east coast of the United States.
Published Black Buzzard Press - 1982