Best Cowers Poems
Hello there, do please come inside- no need to wipe your feet
excuse the mess, I fear you'll find it isn't very neat.
This place is always untidy, victim of my disorder
from old hang-ups to memories, I'll admit I am a hoarder.
In here hanging like mobiles, noisy, at odds with my feelings
are life's little distractions, niggling, swinging from the ceiling.
Careful with your torch, don't shine it underneath the bed
beneath it there is lurking a dark sprouting creeping dread.
Most people couldn't live with it, a disturbing thing to some,
as it cowers in the corner from the things still yet to come.
Tread lightly in the corridor, just mind out where you walk
you'll trip on my anxiety that bobs up like a cork.
The fire is stoked, the hearth is swept and logs stacked in a heap
my warmth to all well tended (well, except when I'm asleep).
Cardboard tubes in disarray, and more you cannot see-
plans I drew up in the past, none ever meant to be.
Mannequin in veil of black, arms raised as if to dance
with all my past relationships that never stood a chance.
This rocking chair, my temper, that sometimes I must sit in
and you'll notice that the varnish of my patience has worn thin.
My sense of humour's in the loft, protected by my hats
seemed like the right place for it, since my friends all think I'm bats.
That one small window by the beam lets my faith's light shine in
I'm sorry it's not brighter, window dirty from past sin.
Still, I can climb and open it to aim my telescope
for somewhere in the darkness lies the faintest glimpse of hope
that keeps me living here in peace and shelters me from sad;
you wonder why I live in here? Well, out there-
its just mad!
September16th 2015
For contest 'Inside my head'- sponsor John Lawless
Categories:
cowers, feelings,
Form:
Rhyme
clad in rags, he wanders on Wall Street
he is invisible to hustling stock brokers
he is a man with no money, no property
a hapless struggler of excessive loan burdens
bitter winter winds blow across Broadway
he is invisible to affluent theatre-goers wearing warm winter coats
he is a man who watches them scurry past the cardboard box that is his bed
like a rain-dog, huddling in the shadows of alleys and doorways
he hears deafening explosions of New Year fireworks
he is invisible to the revellers
he is a man who cowers, recalling gunfire of a war he fought
echoing through his mind in restless nights
the incessant thumping of traumatic stress
he is invisible...a victim of post-Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq
who once bore a uniform and served his country with pride
he is invisible suffering alone, paying the price
through severe disabilities and permanent scars
with sadness, he watches voters going to the polls
he is invisible, a veteran with no voice in elections
he is a man who cannot vote without an “address”
a placard on a pavement might catch the eye
unemployed, homeless, unseen
but most of all forgotten
he is a man who seems invisible
but he is still a man
-------------------------------------------------------------
This is co-written by Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire
in remembrance of our war veterans.
[Published @ Muse to Move (A.P.F. Publisher UK 2017]
Categories:
cowers, remember, veterans day,
Form:
Free verse
missing, the magic
stars shrink
the moon cowers
all that's sweet turns sour
heartfelt sighs
comfort food
steam baths
no good, no good...
O, before ye despair
love will repair
nature's caprice, no one spares
~ angels in heaven yet care
Categories:
cowers, angel, love, magic, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Now starved of sleep I watch the shadows creep,
this selfish heart now seething with desire,
beats and beats - relentless thrums grow deep-
they hide, oh how they hide inside the fire!
Then...peaceful in the meadow is this gloom,
in lunar lumen's self-defining light,
that cowers from the truth that dwells at noon
in one forgotten moment of its flight.
Precocious shadows sweep the slumbered fields,
like children of the day that tease the sun,
to loose the resurrection that it yields
while owls of conscience watch which way I run.
As moonlit meadows wander in my dreams,
my peaceful posture's not quite what it seems...
Categories:
cowers, dream,
Form:
Sonnet
He fled the gazes of his brood --
They cut his soul with faces
sharp from lack of food.
Although their mouths
Voiced no complaint,
Their steady, unaccusing stares
Were so much more than he could bear --
This hero of two foreign wars.
He cowers now in alleyways
(And drinks his courage from a jar)
Beneath a far, unjudging star.
Categories:
cowers, angst, depression, family, father,
Form:
Rhyme
winter cowers
in shrinking shadows…
pale and sweating
Categories:
cowers, spring,
Form:
Haiku
"Ensnare My Heart"
By M. Taha Effendi
(Ballad)
O beautiful maiden of my captive heart,
Are you not the lone bard's pompous muse?
With allure that inspired the divine art,
Heavens' hand made you with such delicate use,
What sweet circumstance upon me befalls,
My heart the endearing perfidy has plotted,
Entombed in my bosom, it beats to your calls,
Loves beyond reason the heart besotted,
Let my soul swoon at your eternal beauty awhile,
Mesmerize by sheer fineness of your chiseled cheek,
Beguile by crimson roses that adorn your seraphic smile,
Savor in you the beauty of which poets speak,
Your eyes are gleaming lagoons of preserved vintage,
Shades the cerulean ocean from their depths did lease,
The jealous eye of heaven envies your radiant visage,
The blushing moon embarrassed cowers beneath the seas,
Would you shelter me in your silken veil perchance?
That imbue elation in those who wander in its shade,
And sways to cadence of zephyrs in an eternal dance,
To invoke dark urges of soul with a sublime serenade,
Categories:
cowers, adventure, art, devotion, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
There is a longing to be understood
Deep in the soul, like seeds of a flower
Waiting to be seen, wanting if it could
In pain or celebration, where it stood
Whether happy or in a tearful shower
There is a longing to be understood
Words waiting to be heard, places they would
Change experience that has held power
Waiting to be seen, wanting if it could
Through blue days, gray days and storms whirling should
Through volume and quietness in the hour
There is a longing to be understood
Through ever soft love or hate hard as wood
Through energy, tiredness, fear that cowers
Waiting to be seen, wanting if it could
To be loved, to be held, safety that is good
To sit on a curb or tops of towers
There is a longing to be understood
Waiting to be seen, wanting if it could
Heidi Sands
11/14/17
Categories:
cowers, appreciation, emotions, longing,
Form:
Villanelle
My Heart Better Fares . . .
The heart better fares you say when it cowers
not so all sails deployed you chartered a
relentless course for my heart but it was not
the intended stir in me you caused for
of such love games devoid I desperately try
to avoid any and all encounters you seek
and if your sea weathered banner sends
me scampering, it is because you see,
as I regretfully but so bluntly need to say,
I neither wished nor relished your forceful
attention and do gladly welcome the sight
of your disappearing flag.
For all the young girls and women out there
who feel they have become the source of
relentless, forceful, and unwelcome attention,
try to be kind, but stay strong and stand your ground.
Categories:
cowers, goodbye, space,
Form:
Free verse
It cowers in the corner,
newly born.
I turn my spite-soaked back,
riddled with resentment
and pull the thin veil
to sink beneath its cover.
I will not watch it crawl,
but it breathes,
a shadow
at the edge of my own
threatening to merge.
It waits, as I do
for nothing
while I ignore its cries
and mine.
And I turn to stone
silently refusing
the darkness at my feet.
~
It screams
a piercing shrill
that grips my core.
It pokes and presses
every bruise,
clawing at my skin
with high-pitched scratches.
Enraged, I seize it.
A thunderous wrath
echoes within,
bubbling from the chambers
of my worn-out heart.
Relentless waves
crash with intent
to swallow
as a storm
unleashes its fury.
~
Fear consumes,
as the burning truth
nears the brink.
Boiling rage simmers
to a helpless desperation.
I plead for a reprieve,
a momentary pause
in overwhelming anguish.
My offers fly free;
promises,
compromises…
myself.
Left waiting,
tossing pennies
into an overflowing well,
only to watch
my wishes spill.
~
Rain cascades
from hollow black eyes,
as its touch
pierces my chest.
And,
the dam
breaks…
flooding the space
with the pent-up poison
that's been swelling within.
I swap my veil
for a heavy blanket
of fog
as hope is smothered.
Color dulls to gray,
and I surrender
to the haze.
~
It holds me
in its growing arms,
and strokes my dampened hair,
whispering comfort
as if to apologize
for its very existence.
It is mine,
born of a final breath
to dwell in my shadow,
and thrive inside a void.
I tend to it
as it tends to me,
embracing what remains,
just a fragment
of that final breath
to hold inside my lungs.
And I succumb
to its rise
from the isolated corner
as it walks beside me,
fully grown.
Categories:
cowers, anger, death, depression, sister,
Form:
Personification
Mossy vines camouflage decaying headstone
Thus hidden and fallen into disrepair
Foliage ever swallow so it cowers
Deeply weatherworn lettering embraced there
Threads of piercing light filtering through windblown
Limbs surrounded by trees, ferns, and wildflowers
Strewn mounds of decomposed fallen trees below
Cool nature's spirit aspirating showers
9/28/2020
Writing Challenge - Decay - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Categories:
cowers, nature,
Form:
Quatrain
(American Style Haiku Sequence)
raindrop bullets lash
cardinal cowers in nest
tiny eggs stay dry
fragile blossoms wilt
under sunshine’s scorching rays
baby cardinals fly
radiant gems flash
on faded garden pathways
cardinal red mums
cardinal watches
bare limbs bowing down to pray
in adulation
Categories:
cowers, appreciation, bird, nature, seasons,
Form:
Haiku
legs churning
lungs burning
feet heavy
heartbeat unsteady
another mile to go
toughness time to show
now or never go for the glory
thats the story
late night hours
no fear, never cowers
shifting gears
to the crowd's cheer's
given up many an indulgence
to be an athlete of influence
a mover and a shaker
never to be mistaken for a faker
lion-hearted 'till the end
rev up the engine for the last bend
goal is the finish line
lean at the tape for the time
win or lose it's all the same
what matters is how you play the game
did you give it your all
did you leave it all on the line until your fall
leave nothing to be desired
like clay to be fired
molded by sacrifice
nothing else would suffice
this is the life of an athlete
but not just any athlete, a long distance athlete
barrel chested
endorphin injected
solitary 5 am runs
missing out on time spent with chums
reflecting amongst nature
finding solace below the creator
its all worth it
a life spent being fit
making friends galore
each mile, never a bore
a tightly nit fraternity
miles and miles to eternity
its more than running
a lifestyle, ongoing
lace em' up and let it go
let your inner self glow
strength and courage radiate
never to quell or intimidate
simply to live
leaking life like a sieve
with no fear
crystalline clear
Categories:
cowers, sports,
Form:
Quatrain
clad in rags, he wanders on Wall Street
he is invisible to hustling stock brokers
he is a man with no money, no property
a hapless struggler of excessive loan burdens
bitter winter winds whip across Broadway
he is invisible to affluent theatre-goers wearing warm winter coats
he is a man who watches them scurry past the cardboard box that is his bed
like a rain-dog, huddling in the shadows of alleys and doorways
he hears deafening explosions of New Year fireworks
he is invisible to the revelers
he is a man who cowers, recalling gunfire of a war he fought
echoing through his mind in restless nights
the incessant thumping of traumatic stress
he is invisible...a victim of post-Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq
who once bore a uniform and served his country with pride
he is invisible suffering alone, paying the price
through severe disabilities and permanent scars
with sadness, he watches voters going to the polls
he is invisible, a veteran with no voice in elections
he is a man who cannot vote without an “address”
a placard on a pavement might catch the eye
unemployed, homeless, unseen
but most of all forgotten
he is a man who seems invisible
but he is still a man
*As we prepare to celebrate Veterans Day, I would like to thank Paul Callus
for co-writing with me. Our veterans deserve more than we can ever give them.
Categories:
cowers, veterans day,
Form:
Free verse
The night has come and I have lost my way.
With recklessness, I frittered daylight hours.
Surprised am I at ending of the day.
Refusing guidance, I began to stray,
Paid no attention to the threat of showers.
The night has come and I have lost my way.
Confused as whether it is wise to stay,
I tremble at the sight of hovering towers.
Surprised am I at ending of the day.
Dark clouds have covered the full moon's bright ray
And just ahead a menacing form cowers.
The night has come and I have lost my way.
Deep weariness has caused me great dismay.
I lie down in a bed of sweet wild flowers.
Surprised am I at ending of the day.
My guardian angel urges me to pray.
My safety is beyond my mortal powers.
The night has come and I have lost my way.
Surprised am I at ending of the day.
Written March 15 2015,
Categories:
cowers, lost,
Form:
Villanelle