Best Craft Poems
Moments of meditative serenity
Crimping pleating floral white hybrid washi
Shaping and triangulating dainty folds
Stringing vertex wings of freedom symmetry
Garland of classic crane origami
Wishing long happy peaceful life
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on April 25, 2019 for contest A GARLAND sponsored by JULIA WARD
Wordsmith
dour, drab embellished
don't recite read out loud
stop for a pause never stop writing
be difficult, obscure be clear express self
ignore other poets read many good poems
procrastinate, delay expedite, keep on track
wait till words come search for words till done
writing is a task, adopted writing is a pleasure, a calling
never be intiminated by editors believe in yourself and your abilities
write when you have opportunity write to a schedule in planned sessions
The Craft
One must die to be reborn
From witch's rite the soul is torn
Baptized in the flames of death
Then live again from magic breath
A witch's soul has seen beyond
And I have grasped that broken dawn
So I invoke this binding spell
Send my foes to burn in hell
Let their dance be one to see
With voices pure from agony
And let the world witness my wrath
Light their dreams with hell's hot bath
And show them sights that braise the soul
Let them know this witch's role
And warn the ones that come my way
To cross this witch, what price they pay
break the cycle
own my path
opinions bring power
believe in your craft
negative whispers
holding you back
wounded by words
is all in the past
A Beautiful Collection
Artistic. Brilliant colours. Dainty embroidery.
Fragile golden hues in jewelled kaftans.
Light multicoloured needlework on patchwork quilts.
Rich silken tapestries
Unusual vestments with xstitching. Yarmulke & Zucchetto.
Witches, whom to say they don’t exist within the physical
Plain here on earth, maidens of the mystic arts of olden craft,
Dwelling beneath the elliptical moon of transitions shifting,
Living within the shadows of incantations unbroken spells
Of the past!
Damsels birthed beneath the oracles marking of the third
Eyes ethereal dimension, profits magi of the elemental,
Earth, wind, fire, water and air, these the guardians
Of the hidden magic within all living matter, both for
The seen and unseen raw forces of ultimate power!
Amongst this the season of the earthen dead,
These eyes of clarity’s shine, to the sheen of brilliance,
Dipping within the pools of illumination, the stirring
Caldron pot of fortune is uplifted, upwards towards the skies
Of the foretelling, behold the wicked crafts of the
Alchemists charmed.
At the flicker light of the green candle bents in the winds of destiny,
The dousing rod of fate is shone, as the crystal ball flame burns
Brightly against the night, held tightly is the covenant
Hands embraced within this mystical sisterhood and
Brotherhood, the shadows of darkness past ideally
By, for the earth balance must be kept on both
Ends level, the light and the darkness of spiritualism!
As the solid megaliths of Stone Hedge stand tall against
The setting suns horizon, echoes float from the farthest
Edges of the planet, a mystical rhythm of ancient times
Sounds thumping, with the natural essence of life itself,
As the earth witches of the world unite in this winter
Solstice of the season of the dead!
Within the circling orbs of reality, a twilight duality
Exists within the realm of the ethereal on a higher
Plain of knowledges recognition, and the reader
In the light of spiritualism, shines in the afterglow
Of the beyond his or hers physical awareness, a fifth
Sighted seeker, the gifted physic, or magi of the
Humanistic soul!
Witches, whom to say they don’t exist within the physical
Plain here on earth, maidens of the mystic arts of olden craft,
Dwelling beneath the elliptical moon of transitions shifting,
Living within the shadows of incantations unbroken spells
Of the past!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
DEDICATED TO MY MYSTIC ROSE
HAPPY HALLOWEEN SISTER OF THE HEART
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou can buy drinks at McD’s for a buck,
Wait, that means thou never want to pay,
Thou went to see a psychic for good luck.
Sometime too hot thou think thou are at clubs,
The ways you act embarrass all thy friends ;
And when we need to drag thou out of pubs,
We hope thy hot behaviour will soon end.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Especially in winter when thou wear;
Shorts too short with legs far too displayed,
“Oh my god, I can see her underwear,”
Thy “summer’s” kind of ratchet after all
Thy friends will wait until you turn to fall.
An herbaceous arbor
flanks the harbor
where he labors
fitting words to spaces --
blanks he fills, erases.
He savors bits of meaning,
sculpting sound to logic's shape,
annealing word and image,
polishing a verbal mound
congealing on his pad.
A bird chirps.
Song distracts.
A moment's lapse.
He compares the bird's
with his own work,
considers form and content,
sees the gaps,
tosses his dead page
into the water's murk.
This Craft
My Little Sidetrack
The Hair of the Equine
So Beautifully Strong
A Symbol of their Noble Worth
From which I fashion Creations for your Adornment
For some a Humble Trinket
of a Creature they Adore
For some a Lasting Bond
to the One whom they Adored
Each Strand between my fingers
Carefully laid, Carefully made
I twist and weave Memories into Love's Last Locks
-a hobby of mine...
Greener Pasture Creations Horse Hair Jewelry
Atlantis, the last of the spacecrafts, left this exterior of world
For the scientific expeditions and to discover something new.
Such heroic spacecrafts search new planets, aliens and herald
New discoveries to us that delude our conscience like the dew.
Send no more spacecrafts to search Aliens (even if these exist)
But send some Land-crafts to the Planet of the Poor, this Earth.
The Poor wait, starved and neglected, with an empty open fist
Where to born as destitute is a Curse and cursed is every birth.
A single gram of meal for an Astronaut costs more, yes, more
Than the whole year cost of a poor man who lives to struggle.
Send a Land-craft, at least, to this unexplored planet of poor,
You will discover luminescence of God in their simple smile.
Perfection flawed surely, yet he still craves to grow
plain books made great by his right hand
his portraits, more vivid in words than in photos
his mind creates thus his hand writes
and ever more lucid, so that our hearts would hold
what’s on each page that his pen plied
He scripts how heaven touched the earth, only clearer
such that the blind saw through their ears
in crypts and deadened tombs, would get the dead attached
to every word that his pen bled
we missed the worthful things because we closed our eyes
but they’re extant, within his pen
The Hydralisks are assembling just out of range,
Supported by Roaches, Infestors, Banelings,…
The Mutalisks are hovering beyond our turrets,
Brutalisks are moving—it’s looking quite desperate.
There’s a silver lining for each “end of the world”:
My shift’s almost done and my Siege Tank’s been rebuilt.
I could spend my last hours paralyzed in fright;
But no, got a date with that cute medic tonight.
I took several stim-packs off a dead Marine,
And I’ll take a few jolts if she gives me the green.
So all those Zerg monsters better stay out of sight…
Better not mess with me and my Medic tonight.
We’re all out of minerals, we’re out of Vespene.
We’ve made our last Marauders and our last Viking.
But if Ghosts and Banshees can hit the Zerg just right,
I might still be around for my Medic tonight.
Chorus) Got a date with that blue-eyed young medic tonight.
You know, the one that I’ve had for months in my sights.
If my Siege Tank’s a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’.
Got a date with that pretty sweet medic tonight.
I heard an angel speak last night and he said "write"
With lantern light weary I write this morbid night
The moon above the meadows move in gloomy mist
With pen in hand, hermit a man and death amidst
Oh shall I walk the aisles of graves and hundred names
With flowers full of life financed on furnished frames
Below the wind and warmth of night do whispers woe
In fear I'm not for I care take of those below
For I have seen many a man and woman cry
And I have seen many a man and woman lie
Distilled in death with only breath of the beloved
Mourning above...mornings above heavenly loved
But something is a happening around the night
If not a dream how dost darkness so quicketh light
How frogs appear around lilies that left the fog
Where branches dance with trees beyond their childrens log
As ponds appear upon plateau of grave and sand
And stars above nomadic night come down to land
And voices of the birds play like a violin
And whispers of the wind hum like a hundred men!
It is at this moment that wings appeared to be
Uplifted from the back of her in front of me
Dear Angel, ye are he that spoketh write of thee
But in the nude in front of me am I to flee?
With hair in waves and arms extended out to see
Appeared to me...appeared to be...a flame of sea
That swept the cemeteries floor with torch and fire
And all in death consumeth life 'twas her aspire
A paradise on earth and wedding full of life
As they I have buried myself were full of light!
Women and men and children spread
A graduation of the dead
Ceremonious gift of beings
Thy conquered death, thy wearest wings!
Forth in her hands were flowers of a thousand-fold
And when she walked her footsteps formed a flood of gold
With every step a flower from her drew to ground
In mystic motion as she moved her wings would sound
Just like a brush of wind, angelic crystal wings
Face of fertility that wore a crown of rings
Unselfish all in all with fingernails of fire
Did pierce my heart into my soul a strong desire
To learn to love and love to live and live to give
Yes even in the dire darkness something lives
Believe me not and no one shall when I doth tell
The timid night I heard an Angel's voice exhale
Oh Angel it is thy that is in sacred stone
That came to me in flesh and now thy flesh is gone
Johnny Sumler
June 17, 2011
Angels In Cemeteries
knitting
two-tone phentex slippers
to beatles tunes
posted on June 15, 2018
Sea of grass
Hues of green;
Dancing in the sun
~~~~~~~~~
Mood swings
Dash of madness;
Daylight conspires
~~~~~~~~~
Sea shore tryst
High tides splash;
Salty sand caressed
~~~~~~~~~
Curvy tracks winding
Jogging feet trekking;
Trees sigh in the wind
~~~~~~~~~
Sky canopy
Airy shelters here;
Wet garments for earth
~~~~~~~~~
Noisy seagulls
Congregation expounds;
Fishy conversations
~~~~~~~~~
Moonlight excursion
Romance on the prowl;
Seaside rendezvous
~~~~~~~~~
Late evening chills
Prelude to deep sleep;
Healing slumber comes
~~~~~~~~~
Poise of morning
Sunbeams surprise;
Unfurls ample more
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
14 August 2014
Singapore