Best Daubed Poems
Colors daubed for seasons' scenes
I sift through life for what it means
In spite of chaos, shades and flings
It comes down to the simple things
The mountain tops, the dark abyss'
Have ground my egos down to this
Of all the chance and spheres I'm of
Life's worth and essence is ... but LOVE
Indeed, I've lived big moments, too
The raptures and sweet rendezvous
Moving mountains - burning skies
Bright lilting lashes, soft lullabies
Shedding poisons like second skin
Too few dreams to wear them in
I dared the devil, danced with death
Swore for mercy's whisp'ring breath
So just when ends seemed all to be
This extra chance was proffered me
Don't take for granted or yet waste
That vigor gained from rigors faced
Don't tend concerns to end or start
It's what's between that fills a heart
True meaning - love's enduring kiss
A life's no less or more ... than THIS.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Strand Select, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 7th Place ~ in the "Favourite Poem From May, 2019" Poetry Contest, Julia Ward, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "The Meaning of Life" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
Dutiful dawn awaits the radiant sun
Clothed in her mantle daubed with streaks of light.
And faithful to the course which life must run,
Receives the baton from retreating night.
Remote yet not alone, for down below
Creation is preparing to rejoice.
Faint silhouettes of trees begin to show,
And birdsong swells to greet her in full voice.
The precious golden orb will soon arise
And dawn prepares to slowly slip away.
A blush of pink expands across the skies;
The sun cuts through at last - a brand new day.
This gift of new beginnings should impart
A sense of awe in every human heart.
'2019 Poetry Marathon Qualifiers' FINAL Placement': sponsored by Mark Toney
submitted on April 1st 2019
April 2019 Premier 6,Any Form ,Any Theme ,Upto A Max Of 14( F O U R T E E N) Lines Poetry Contest : sponsored by Brian Strand
Rising from the desert sand
was a shimmering mirage
of a thousand shouts
Heated winds of fanaticism,
intense and blowing violently loud
Shrill calls to blood prayer seethe,
breathing fiery invocations
of a perverted philosophy
Screaming death to the infidels —
a scarlet smeared mirror reflecting
black cloth covered savagery
Crimson prayers are the daubed untempered mortar
which cements the foundation of this shakily rising kingdom
Whet the glittering scimitar swung grisly:
Beheadings are the blade’s
propaganda recruitment shock TV
Desert crisis ... dreaded carrion claws of ISIS,
oasis mirage bathe the sociopaths in bloody bliss
Mutilated bodies floating upon the desert sea,
a raised dark flag boasts of a fleeting victory
Prideful utterances of unspeakable barbarity
Contemned caliphate mercurial rising ...
now descending quickly below the horizon
Crumbling desert kingdom,
butchery sow the seeds of your ruin
The sand castle rise to power was ever so brief,
a pirated religion kingdom soon to end suddenly
Taking hostage your own faith,
now the proselyte guards are
fleeing from the palace carnage
Crumbling desert kingdom,
butchery sow the seeds of your ruin
Innocent blood spilled in the sand
will be your caliphate’s undoing
Crumbling desert kingdom,
blood reap the harvest of your ruin
Let your prophets of terror and rage
shout a false sanctum call to prayer
Intoning not this one truth: God will surely repay!
Fair dawn awaits
Once more fair dawn awaits the radiant sun
Clothed in her mantle daubed with streaks of light.
And faithful to the course which life must run;
Receives the baton from retreating night.
Remote yet not alone, for down below
Creation is preparing to rejoice;
Faint silhouettes of trees begin to show,
And birdsong swells to greet her in full voice.
The precious golden orb will soon arise
And dawn prepares to slowly slip away
A blush of pink expands across the skies
The sun cuts through at last: a brand new day.
This gift of new beginnings should impart
A sense of awe in every human heart.
The sun shines in perfect darkness, twirling relentlessly ...
as do a trillion trillion other stars, daubed on the blackest black.
Still, life itself seeds and burgeons in the warmth of its precious light,
its particles, the core of an exquisite balance that brings each heart to thrum,
that breaches hard soil in spring, sings the haunting silence of the wilderness,
and bats lashes like butterflies in the wee hours of the dawning.
Some say, a laugh is just a laugh is just a laugh, thus ... and on,
yet, like Great Sol it can plunge any void, dive the deepest sorrows,
wound the twilight, mortal, and pierce the trembling rib of nightmares.
The shimmering joy it dances upon, is the true essence of ALL ...
nothing else so fills a heart or wakens a soul from mourning,
as crucial as breath and sustenance and affection.
Yes, a laugh is a simple thing, a seemingly trivial and mundane expression,
but it is an arrow sent forth from the bow of joyous reality,
a dart of delight, with the capacity to rend the thickest of shadowy veils.
Yet, like the sun again, it is dependent upon its alter-ego -
It is the shadows and dark realms and agonies and regrets
that make joy so exceptionally precious, and so amazingly sweet ...
you can NOT find one without the other, that is unmitigated, absolute.
Feel your pain - your sorrow, embrace the darkness with all you are,
but do so in the mind that until you HAVE, you won't know true JOY ...
or how splendid, cathartic and giggly wonderful ... it can be.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "The Smile At The Foot Of The Ladder" Poetry Contest, Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.
my brittle bones are like this fence, so built
on throes of horrors shrouded with the hilt
of war's inanely senseless blade, now dulled
by all the precious souls its edge has culled …
now ages gone, those boys amid their dreams
and yet the air still trembles with their screams
so daubed in bleeding sun, how death imparts
these fields of poppy roods and purple hearts.
~ For Lt Col John McCrae, and all life lost to war ~
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Purple 2" Poetry Contest, Kevin Shaw, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Contest 545 Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
(In honor of the poem by Lt Col John McCrae, and all lives given to war).
My dearest love oft' pledged her soul,
For life, though life then took its toll,
My heart, the thread-bare casualty
Of her regrets, (though ne'er of me),
Now she breathes not, my name ...
While this fool yearns her all the same.
Her eyes recalled the burnished brown -
The choc'late lace that crimped her gown,
That frock that, for my sake, she'd worn,
And 'midst our throes of passions, torn,
Soft-daubed with moonlight blue ...
Her china skin, thus moonlit, too.
Her locks were tawny, plat'num streaked,
And framed her visage, crimson-cheeked,
They swirled those eyes - one dark abyss,
So spilled their strands to spice each kiss,
With dappled hints of fruit ...
As fingers weaved their attribute.
Her mouth, twin bows of plums, divine,
That drew their perfect match to mine,
Those pearly whites and sugar tongue,
The pride of heav'nly strains, unsung -
As moist as highland mist ...
The kind designed to find them kissed.
Her flesh bloomed as the warmest May,
Those soft-twined corners of the day
That beguile you with their fairest frill,
The sweet, veiled places, warmer still,
With treasures hidden, deep ...
Wild wonders 'midst her carnal keep.
Still, all these traits found fairer, yet,
That charming calm her arms beget -
Sweet languor of her love and limbs,
To fill my heart and hopes to brims -
Thus lost within her grace ...
The drowning depths of her embrace.
There's some who muse why I still pine
For sweet love, lost, no longer mine ...
Despite these traits and those between
It's more the things that CAN'T be seen
That I miss, dear as life ...
That cut my soul, deep as a knife ...
And wend my mem'ries, raw and rife.
1#
Brewed tea
Wife and myself
Nothing between us
2#
He was metamorphosed
Into a frog
When his wife had left him
3#
I needed
A lonely woman
Thousand years back
4#
She shivered
In yellow sun
Struck by her coyness
5#
God travels
With three suitcases
One for me
6#
I kissed
Her frostiness
And my lips turned icebergs
7#
The bed
Gets embarrassed
At our nakedness
8#
Her hands
Stopped me
To pick evenings
9#
We two rested
In a cave of Kundalini
Behind the waterfall
10#
The alien woman
Travelled six moons
To deliver her baby in a burial ground
11#
An eagle swoops
On a field –mouse
Tables of wedding
12#
The woman kissed me
I felt her hollow ribs
As if in a spring dream
13#
The woman’s hair
Struck by a gale
Made waterfalls
14#
My wife locked
Me one fine evening
In my neighbour’s hole
15#
The rats are away
When mice take in
My wife’s clammy face
16#
The summer rain
In exasperation
Took wings to raid the moon
17#
Lolo my wife
Her green sleek steps
Thundered an innocent fly
18#
In the dead of night
God made two wives
One for me one for my neighbour
19#
My neighbour’s wife
Delivered a child
When I was asleep
20#
The woman said goodbye
And I took a fish for dinner
I mistook it for my wife
21#
My wife is a canvas
Where I paint
My forebodings
22#
A painter’s apprentice
In sheer foolishness
daubed in red my wife’s rear-view
23#
A squirrel saw my wife
And in haste
Lost her guava
24#
I was caught in neighbour’s bedroom
By my wife last summer
I lost my glasses
25#
A wolf entered the graveyard
Unannounced
And annoyed my wife
26#
Sarah my wife
Lumbering
Dizzy commuters
27#
Sarah wed me
And in brief forgetfulness
Greeted my neighbour
28#
A tiger ate Sarah my wife
It happened by accident
The tiger knows
29#
Morning bell
Wake up call
I want to sleep
30#
Pola my pet fly
Fouled things up
She ate my wife’s breakfast
31#
My dog Pintu
Hydrophobia
I set him free on my wife’s posterior
32#
Eons ago a butterfly
Gave birth to my wife
Now, a caterpillar
33#
A hard slap
Stammering
Hurricane Sarah will win
34#
You have gathered enough winters
Woman sighs
Leave one for me
35#
The woman flapped her wings
To clouded mountaintops
Silky as white
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
hold still, eventide ...
I am a capricious cad among wraiths,
waltzing with a mop in
a Marrakesh courtyard - catching stars
as they drip with waxy and
wild wonder, into the braids of my maudlin
noose, tightening
jangling, dangling ...
rose gold anklets, (wrapped 'round leggy perfection),
shimmer their hammered facets,
kicking smoke into toroidal hoops with
raw regard
while they spin, table-top, to a
Chaabi chant
candles waving their
flames to beckon the darkness close ...
notes from a punji weave
mystery thru the heavy heat, Henna-striped hands
cradling a bottle, jade green, as the
white flowers gush their cold, gold bounty
down a curvy thigh
wetly wrapping an unblemished
capuccino calf, Perrier-Jouët trickles off tender
toes to plop, warm, on my
tantalized tongue
I kiss the fuchsia-daubed nails to
show proper veneration, then spin back to
the murky music, mop-handle
lover in tow
down to the spinning
tie-dyed rugs and pillows, I surrender all to the
callow flesh there, wanting ... willing
her hair and hide and ebon eyes
dark as delirium, while the brass-headed
snake-of-a-hookah waits
for a kiss
long draws bring dizzy
dreams and hypnotic swirls from the lamp,
aromas and an opiate nirvana coiling
around my cares
lost as a lamb, to soft skin ...
and sweet smoke.
( Jemaa el-Fnaa Square in Marrakesh is one of the most active and exciting places on earth, with exotic foods, snake-charmers, clothes and antique vendors, magicians, dancers, haqle or street theater, storytellers, acrobats, musicians, comedians, water sellers, tattoo artists, carnival acts, even organ-grinders with monkeys, and yes, opium and hashish traders. It has remained largely the same for over a thousand years, and is indeed an important part of history, declared by UNESCO as a "Masterpiece of World Heritage" - if you're ever in Morocco, it is a MUST-see! )
LIFE’s INTENTIONS
Across the field in wild proliferation
A multiplicity of forms abound
Not broad brush daubed impressionist collation
But gathering of beings, each one crowned
Every leaf each blade of grass with purpose showing
A will that shall maintain the form alive
From golden flower clock the seeds are blowing
All strive to bring persistence and survive
I see life spark contained within each one
Or is it mere organic chemistry
Or hand of God that draws a thread as spun
And weaves the cloth of every destiny
Explanations are profuse as man’s invention
Nonetheless I’ll not deny a clear intention
WHEREAS
Whereas I see no doubt of life’s intents
All forms self driven to perpetuate
Yet there’s another motive that I sense
That drives those entities to close relate
Each seen to be supportive of another
Although one instinct drives them to compete
While in their interaction as a brother
Contribute to conception more complete
Within a seemed consensual existence
Where help is given willingly or no
In endless reciprocity assistance
Our world proliferates, thus to bestow
The spectrum of creation, whence assigned
Bringing light and satisfaction to my mind
heaven ...
is my prison ...
that dreamy, white tangle of
percale where your
limbs and mine weave sweaty magic -
a moon-daubed canvas of
pyretic passion, public ...
no shut-door, drawn-curtain modesty to
confine or make sacred ...
the danger of chance discovery is
our brush, our pigments but
blood ... water ...
(pray, this haughty
consideration of both ... and each -
is not the nectar of veins
more binding?
yet, in all its giving of life,
water - the most earthly flow, abundant -
is exceedingly more precious ...
more crucial in dynamism
to all the Universe
than that which clots for
kings of kings of kings ...
and those who keep little lives in their
pocket, squeezing tears from
a passion's pains) ...
we watch the
strokes of our masterpiece
take shape ...
our fleshy doppelgangers echo us on
strategically beveled mirror ceiling panels ...
an exquisite debauchery - the
perfect pauses in your form
demanding the gaze ...
oh, to waste away like Erised in contemplation of
your provocative pieces and bits ...
torrid,, touchable temples that I build
myself for the spying eyes
we count on ...
wives, husbands, leches, learners -
a grand performance, ours ...
and ...
from the ashes of our
god, do we arise, (blood, tears and marrow) ...
our mortal senses gone, wagered in
feigned dignity or hope, these
buttresses will stand proud for the
sacrifices of character ... and kindnesses ...
or crumble in care for the chaste
as my illicit actress and I ...
burn.
A zephyr skipped along, midday,
Rose-daubed my cheek in ides of May,
As if to goad, and giggling, say -
'My lad, this moment's wasting ...
Such zest waits for the tasting!'
The sea was donning Sunday's best,
With shimmered pearls upon its breast,
Its voice reminding from each crest -
'My lad, the hours are wasting ...
Such wine awaits the tasting!'
New heather danced atop the hills,
With white and pink Chantilly frills,
And sang to me with plaintive trills -
'My lad, the day's a-wasting ...
Such fare waits for the tasting!'
The creeping dusk, swathed in the moon,
Enchanted, blue, each dale and dune,
Then, tender-voiced, began to croon -
'My lad, the night-tide's wasting ...
Romance awaits the tasting!'
Oh, months and years go far too fast,
As dreams are swallowed by the past,
But time still beckons, clear and vast -
'My lad, each breath is wasting ...
There's life left for the tasting!'
There's LIFE left, yet ... so TASTE it!'
I see their ghosts ...
dancing before me like madmen
moon-daubed scarecrows of the corn
hurling curses like daggers
I see their eyes ...
the gleams change to glaze
with every considerate nuzzle of the trigger
recoil punching my shoulder
I see their sorrow ...
in a last instant of confusion
the tear that will birth a thousand more
from the dear ones left behind
I see their smiles ...
the glow of sensate jubilation
for the fiery hell I have doomed myself to
a calamitous conflagration, eternal.
Vanishing vestige of dank cavernous lobes
My lonesome forsaken heart adrift
Under the most alluring midnight crescent moon
Towards a horizon yonder daubed with
A loaded paintbrush of golden luminescence
While levitating melodic whispers
Of charm and sorcery perchance connive
Mingling heavenward to set the stage
For a divine encounter with a goddess
Her wafting cloud ever so sublimely hovers
Peculiarly fine exotic spicy fragrance
Ensnaring my compliant heart
By glorious happenstance
Spellbound and mesmerized
Flutters on the wings of dusk
Reawakening a drowsing lust
Rekindling and resuscitating the passion
To a sublime apogee of celestial folly
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on January 18, 2019 for contest EIGHT WORD CHALLENGE-BARDENESQUE sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON - RANKED 1ST
Long, the shadows with morning dew
Herringbone clouds like gossamer lace
Airbrushed above on the blazing blue
Blooming as morn on your angel face
Sunrise enchanter with skin, unleaven
Tenderly daubed with a kiss ... of heaven.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "When Line Six Is A Perfect Fix" Poetry Contest, Silent One, Sponsor.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Late June 2018 Standard" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor.