Best Crackles Poems
You taste as if twilight were—
lavender swirling like smoke from the earth
licorice lingering with the full moon’s soft pull
a sweetness both dark and divine.
Your skin sparkles with starlight
electric and soft as moth wings.
We sip the pink sky
lemonade lakes cascade through our fingers
time unspools between our hands
while the past drinks from our open palms.
The air crackles with floating florets
each breath a promise, unspoken but heard.
If love were a color it'd be you—
violet and velvet
honey and slow-mountain dew
the universe holds its breath;
galaxies halt their ancient waltz
as they struggle to name us.
And if forever had a flavor
it would stain my tongue—
sweet, dark, endless—
a love so vast
even creation forgets what came before it.
We are the first poem ever written
and the last song left unsung
our love the verse that never fades—
Just like lavender licorice and lemonade lakes.
It's so dark outside, my eyes can't distinguish where sand meets water. Somehow, dusk has come and gone, plunging the evening into darkness.
But even as my eyes yield to this opaque absence of light, my other senses heighten. I can hear the crash of waves as they abuse the shoreline, sending foaming water up the beach in icy streams. I'm lulled by the sound of polished pebbles colliding like marbles as they recede with the waves. I can feel the sea's cool mist against my face, taste its salt on my lips. The scent of seaweed drifts on the breeze in gentle wafts - and then, slowly, the faintest whiff of smoke.
I glance over my shoulder, where a tiny dot of light penetrates the darkness. It's a beacon on this cool night, and I walk slowly toward it, digging my toes into the soft sand with each step.
dim moonlight
peeks through thinning clouds--
fire crackles
He's still there, stoking the fire, feeding the flames until the heat is tangible. The air wavers between us like a veil - a line I want to cross. He stirs up clouds of smoke, stirring feelings within me as I watch his busy hands. I wait patiently for him to notice my approach, and when he does, my breath catches.
rainbow flames
burst from seasoned maple--
blue eyes sparkle
I watch golden light flicker across his skin, softening the lines of his face. He abandons his task, moving around the fire until he stands before me, smiling as if he knows my heart is thundering in my chest.
He waits for a painstaking moment to pass. Then he kisses me with toasted marshmallow lips, pulling me down into his lap to watch the sparks rise like fireflies into the breathless night.
Whispers of sunset
Carry on wings of evening birds
Rising moon awaits wolfs’ howls
Sundown serenade
Crickets chant their scratchy song
Hooting gallery comprised of owls
Phantoms awaken
Stalkers prowl ‘neath opera stages
Graveyards welcome spectral spirits
Points of light
Stars glisten in darkening sky
Street lamps guide travelers home
Fireplace crackles
Kindling ignites thick trunks of oak
Welcome warmth fills country homes
Toasts of wine
Lovers enjoy a fireside embrace
Candlelit shadows dance on walls
Grandma rocks
Old chair creaks on hardwood floors
Children gather for bedtime tales
Stillness follows
Consciousness retreats to dreamland
Tooth fairies and sandmen emerge
Another Christmas season has arrived, at last
and like so many others from Yuletides past,
I'm glad some things have remained unchanged
Although the furniture has been rearranged.
Across the room, a fire crackles and burns
Jenny has grown; for love, her heart yearns
I recall when all she wanted was a baby doll
and skates for the new ice rink in the mall
I've been unpacked in just enough time to see
my family hanging ornaments upon their fir tree.
Garlands of holly berries and popcorn strung
The green velvet stockings beneath me are hung
There's gingerbread scent and carols on the radio
Dad sneaked a kiss from Mom under the mistletoe
The angel nods to me as she's lifted into place
atop the tree. She once told me her name is Grace.
There's old Kaci, the collie, fast asleep on his rug
Grandpa looks sad. I wish I could give him a hug
Mom is headed for the mantle to give me a shake
She's always gentle, taking care I don't break.
I was a gift from her Mom on Christmas, long ago
when she had asked Santa to please bring her snow,
but snow didn't fall in the South where she resided.
I was the closest thing Santa had lovingly provided
Tears fill Mom's eyes as my snow starts to flurry
I've become a bit cloudy and that makes her worry,
but I'll see her smile again Christmas Eve night
when she puts me in Jenny's stocking by fire light.
December 15, 2020
Christmas Poems ~ Old or New
Sponsored by ~ Constance La France
In autumn's graceful waltz of time
Where beauty and decay lovely intertwine.
And where joy and sorrow blissfully dance
In grace, they move this is a mesmerizing rhyme.
Leaves fall like a master painter's dream
Such a masterpiece mixed in color and light.
Twirling and a pirouette and the wind's gentle hymn
Is celebrating life's fleeting and graceful flight.
Raindrops are falling in a celestial jeté
I breathe in the air so crisp and so fair.
A gentle wind as secrets it keeps
A promise of renewal in the cool autumn ballet.
Within decay's soft and relentless caress
Unseen beauty takes the actors stage.
Golden leaves crunch underfoot like nature’s applause
Soft light filters through the trees like a lover's gaze.
Silence of the air soothes my soul like a lullaby.
Autumn is a ballet of graceful transition
A time for release and a moment to move on.
Yet, it is also a time of great hope.
A chance for fresh beginnings and where dancers are drawn.
The Harvest's abundance in life's great field
For the Fruits of labor and love's sweet trove.
The apple's nectar on my tongue, it yields.
Nature's gift is a dance
from heavens above.
Yet, as I taste the apple’s sweet yield...
I am transported to autumns of past.
To childhood days in the orchard field
And laughter lament is fading fast.
We seek the fire's embrace
against the chill.
As we are preparing for winter's
timeless phase.
And children's laughter fills with thrill -
That joyous echo of
Halloween's displays.
A fire crackles in life’s burning spin.
Look, as new life emerges from...
the ember's gentle glow.
We experience a symbol of...
transformation
a dance within...
Just like life's eternal rhythm...
like a river's ebb and flow.
There is steadfast and an...
unwavering resolve.
As a lone leaf clings to its
solitary dream.
A dream of green...
a dance as life revolves...
Against winter's ongoing
relentless regime.
Within winter's embrace and where life's seeds lie
Lies a seed of promise...
in silence grown.
I close my eyes and join autumn's
endless grace.
In reverie... I find my truest home.
Yet when I awaken -
It was a fleeting dream.
As the scent of autumn lingers in the air...
A testament to time that life's beauty is in…
Its ever-turning stream.
Melodic laughter floats on the breeze
Fire light crackles and your eyes tease
Escaping embers glow, like whispers of light
They dance and hold us, this magical night
Nothing between us, our souls exposed
Twinkling stars - a new song composed
Whispers of light, grow hot and untamed
Tonight's promise, as of yet, un-named
For years now, it's been this way
Whispers of light, between us stay
Love.......
2-9-2014
©Donna Jones
oak’s coy hint of red
blushes shy leaves midst the green -
sunset steals day’s warmth
goldenrod plumes nod
as twilight shows off the stars -
the fire pit crackles
Susan Ashley
September 24, 2019
She laced her eyes
closed with the ties
of lover's binding vows
she's flying blind
to prick your mind
with thoughts
she's writing now.
She's gained conclusions
from her flight,
and virtues from your smile,
she felt your face
in blinding grace,
she glorifies your style.
The double helix
spirals on
to form us as it may,
we choose another one
to be
a place for us to stay.
The atmosphere
there crackles,
with lightning
on her tongue,
She spins around,
in sightless sound,
and shatters..........
deaf and dumb.
Blameless it dances, tame-less it prances,
as under a watchful eye it grows.
It crackles under the moonlit night,
and everywhere sparks take flight.
More sticks, more twigs, and up it goes!
As majestically it glows.
Soon enough, marshmallows are roasted,
some are just lightly toasted.
So, now, to conclude my tale,
I must say this: Fires are beautiful, fires can be a delight!
But keep watch, or they will set your yard alight!
Fading photographs are strewn across alabaster tabletops,
drenched in moonlight streaming through rustling curtains.
Snow owls call out to each other through the whistling wind,
as flakes of snow dust
frostbit grass outside crystallized windows.
A roaring fireplace crackles in the corner,
and I sit back upon an oaken rocking chair,
tracing my fingertips over delicate memories,
transported back to harmonious
days and carefree nights.
Your silhouette appears, drenched
in glorious sunlight.
Summer emerges like
a breath of fresh air,
as luscious ivy crawls up
wrought iron fences,
and onyx roses bloom within the gaps.
Your golden voice calls out to me.
A single teardrop slides down
the warmth of my cheek.
It’s been so many years since
I heard that angelic sound,
smelled the aromatic vanilla
permeating from your silken skin,
and fell into your tender embrace.
My blood swelters under your touch.
I whisper, “I’ve been so lost without you.”
“Can I not stay here with you like this forever?”
You whisper back,
One day, my love, for it’s not your time yet.”
And within the blink of an eye,
an icy chill races up my spine,
snapping me back to harsh reality,
to a world so frigid without you—
forever tracing memories until
I can finally take my final breath.
" Pardon me,
if my soul has been p a i n t e d ,
with a lavender lake of solemnity,
but, I'll f o r e v e r be a soulful siren,
navigating midst neon s e a f o a m s ,
and sculpting an origami of honesty
~ like the archangels of heavenly faith "
When the 'Swans of Sun'
sing in a soft echo,
behind silvery beams
of oceanic clouds,
I always become
a winter's twilight,
that misses those
subtle hues of silky spring,
as bittersweet stars
tremble and fall
upon my misty eyelids,
like ruby jewels,
scattered with
jasmine scents and
falling on glass-tulips.
My story is more than
speckles of glittery stardust,
for, you shall hear
the heartbeats of harp,
breathing within me,
and unfurling upon
lotus layers of harmony,
knitted by an eternal shine.
Perhaps, ice crystals floating
on puddles of sunrays,
too search for a purpose,
and compel life to chase
that rusting light,
escaping from
crackles of lead skies.
I wonder,
is my sakura moon,
a sea of pomegranate promises,
dipped in maple scars?
Perhaps, my muse
is forbidding me,
and my paper kingdom
of sage and saffron,
shall be soaked
in a scarlet sanctuary
of aching phrases ~
arching beyond
aqua ashes of brokenness.
There, my heart is crowned
on a bleeding rose,
as a 'spirit of rosemary runes',
when its tears trace the
luscious lips of petals,
laced with secrets, unseen.
I'll always narrate
these tangible tales
to red robins,
describing how a
dynasty of dreams
kept burning inside
my poetic flames,
carving vermillion silhouettes
across pastel pages,
where healing
will be sketched,
like a rhymeless perfume
and the immortal dove
will rest upon
a pearly crown
of snow-white hibiscus.
A cocooned cacophony of crickets serenades overgrown fields,
drowning out the creaking of rusted cars long since abandoned.
Maroon and sable tents blot the dilapidated ground—
bloated and weathered,
strips of fabric flapping in the harsh elements.
Legends of wraiths wander,
replicating whispers of infected insanity.
Laughter lingers in suspect echoes,
Rippling from pasts reborn in presents: futures to be later replaced by the past.
The smell of burnt sugar crackles with the purr of buttered kerneled corn: invading the nostrils with senses whose stimuli feign belief.
A faint humming of Entry of the Gladiators creeps in loudening crescendos, adding to the cacophony deigning dormancy in the field
Fragmented timelines intersecting by the call of the Barker
Stained cotton candy melts, reconstitutes, melts once more
Saturating replicating stands with insidiously sticky omens
Ghastly sickeningly sweet mori mementos
Resurrecting the dead from preternatural slumber.
Within fractured milliseconds, the cycle of the tormented deceased rise
From the ashes of unburnt airwaves,
Rippling through screaming minutes yet frozen in the midst.
A varicosed bearded woman floats aloft grassy overgrowth
Reanimated tigers lurk and phantasmal elephants howl,
Rings round the air in gaseous hush, like cigars puffed by moustachioed men of game,
Insufflating smoke with striped suits in candied reds and white.
The air rises to the resurrected show,
Cries confused for laughter tickle cochlea of the living.
I hold you in memory,
like a flaming star that etched the night sky,
before vanishing in darkness
Leaving nothing, but a vision burned in the eyes,
long after your passing.
I remember you,
each cold winter night,
when frost clings to my window pane
and a fire crackles in an empty room,
once filled with laughter and dance
Each evening reminds me of you,
when a candle is lit, or a sunset glows red
When the first star appears on the horizon
I think of you
In a summer dress or cotton blouse,
waiting for the first spring butterfly,
to flutter above your open palms in gentle flight
To have loved you,
could anymore be said, or done?
I keep you warm in my heart,
a timeless refuge
I remember you,
when I'm lonely
Yours is the face that guards my heart
Yours is the calming voice inside my head
Yours is the love, I will never know again
Flickering in the night, a melting’s texture of regrets afterglow,
Candlelight’s waxed drippings staining the white laced table cloth,
Yet in the black and white photo album of the timeless, it is a
Pressed flower of remembrance, never to be forgotten,
In the days of wine and roses.
As champion kisses are exchanged between the
Youthful hearts of the innocent, another cork
Is popped, in this cozy interlude of memory’s repast,
Shattered lies this tempered fragile glass, smashed
Against the fireplaces inner mantel, leaving a frothy
Foams liquid behind, causing the crackles embers to
Burn higher with passions flame,
In the days of wine and roses.
Hand cut floral arrangements, plucked apart
Then tossed asunder, a petals trail to silken sheets
Of pleasure, sorrow’s bedding is lined with feathers
Down, angel wings tender sheathing to protect the
Wounded child of innocence, curled inside perfection’s
Illusionary dream, evolving into a flowering silhouette of
Womanhood.
In shad’s refection of repose, she weeps thus diamond
Tears that float away amongst the Lilley thorns, within the
Rippling pool of the timeless,
Oh those were the farewells for-get-me-knots,
To those days of wine and roses.
Valentines shaped boxes shredded into confections confetti,
Thrown into the air of clarity at the ticker tape parade
Of the broken heartbeat, as it explodes into a zillion pieces,
Tissues spent candy wrappers used to wipe away, moistures
Sorrows of regrets folly, thus the tender reed bends into
The winds of emotion,
Behold the tokens price of loves devotion,
Back in the days of wine and roses.
Vintage bouquets of elegance, tarnished with age,
Yet still retaining lusters shine of everlasting beauty,
The faithful clinging to the shadows of the past,
Hopes dreaming romantic, waltzing in rheum with
Memories of illusion, showered by petals of color,
From those days of wine and roses.
Flickering in the night, a melting’s texture of regrets afterglow,
Candlelight’s waxed drippings staining the white laced table cloth,
Yet in the black and white photo album of the timeless, it is a
Pressed flower of remembrance, never to be forgotten,
In the days of wine and roses.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUN
If I could Harken to thee, a sonnet,
of loves most great desires,
the mere utterance, would warm thine ears
as the soft crackles of lusts fires
The ambiance, of shadows dance
across the Scottish tapestry,
Muses, light footed, pirouetting
my symphony, my love for thee
Fairest is thy silken mane
of the finest Irish Auburn,
brilliant as a cool autumn day
as the leaves of the maple turn
The tower bells, they toll for thee
as pale moon, illuminates the night
hark, the far cry, my dearest dove
of the owlet, so yearning flight
The petals of the Royal Rose
silken soft, compared to thy blushing skin,
or the Emerald glow, of thine own eyes
alit, passion, kindled from within
Mine own heart, burns with ever fire
that, which only thee, can conquer,
Conquer thee not, my dearest dove
for our love, forever, must endure
Harken to me my dearest Dove
sweet sonnets, from silken lips,
for I know thou shall be to me
as close as my finger tips.