Best Deeps Poems
A magic place, lone tree at forest’s side
A huge wolf pine that stands alone like me
It marked a boundary once where sheep would hide
Beneath green needled branches of that tree
It’s where I always go when things go wrong
I pull the forest’s shadows over me
And watch those shadows dance with silent song
My back pressed up against that old pine tree
The cruel remarks, the shunning that was there
Without a why or reason I could see
While others simply watched without a care
And smiled to see the blush of pain in me
I tell myself I still have all my pride
My journey starts, its only just begun
The woods are mine, the forest deeps abide
I’m on my way, I walk into the sun
An old man now with memories at night
But comfort from the thoughts of that lone pine
The fragments of those times have lost their might
Just shadows now with passing of the time.
I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
When you hug someone you love and instantly your knees get weak….
I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
When someone whom you truly love looks deeps into your eyes and
Suddenly the rest of the world disappears….
I’d almost forgotten what it feels like
when someone you love kisses you on your lips and
suddenly you feel butterflies creeping in your stomach…
I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
Getting intimate with someone and wishing it would never end
Wanting more…..
I’d almost forgotten what it feels like,
Being in love…
I’d almost forgotten what it feels like putting my feelings on paper
Until I remembered what it feels like Loving you…..
Dedicated to My Soul Mate....
4/26/2020
Wild poetry contest
Sponsor Anthony Slausin
The collared dog awaits his master’s love
and laps and licks the blessed hand above,
while the wolf, ephemeral shaddow of the unbiddable wild
drinks from the crystal streams descending the mountain.
(He drinks from the palm of creation.)
Obedient pets sit, with poise, awaiting treats,
or scratch the door, the scent of cedars sweet,
but too far,
while the wolf runs through the bright brush at the bull elk, those bellowing lungs a trumpet
announcing to the deeps the shadows of the forest live.
The Good await the chance to thrust their nose
into the rushing wind as Civics go,
while the wolf encircles the dust to lay and lick
all the delectable scents of the wind in his fur.
Faithfully the pet lays, alone on the steel table
wondering where his master is, the scent of the vet
surrounds him like wolves
that eat the walls of the room
until he is free.
There Winter Lonely Fallows Deeply Dream
Long after that ripe golden sunset gleam
Cool silvery tones, wavering light;
Then winter lonely fallows deeply dream
Into the grayish ghostliness of night.
Far off, yet looming bold and strangely near,
Within starry heavens they are aureoled,
Forested mountain-ranges far westward rear
Their high guardian towers as of old.
And lo! above their ancient stormy deeps,
In pensive grandeur, icy frozen browed,
One glorious forest summit there keeps
Transcendent vigil alone, pure and proud.
And we who see that shining symbol turn
A moment's while from its lone transient mood;
From that brief moment we clearly discern
Our lost souls within Nature's solitude.
Robert J. Lindley
Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables: 160
Total # Lines: 19 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 103
https://www.google.com/?gws_rd=ssl#q=fallows+meaning
fal·low1
'falo/
noun
plural noun: fallows
1.
a piece of fallow or uncultivated land.
verb
3rd person present: fallows
1.
leave (land) fallow.
Origin
Old English fealgian ‘to break up land for sowing,’ of Germanic origin; related to Low German falgen .
fal·low2
'falo/
noun
plural noun: fallows
a pale brown or reddish yellow color.
Origin
Old English falu, fealu .
Translate fallows to
Use over time for: fallows
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/aureole
Aureole
noun au·re·ole \'o?r-e-?ol\
Popularity: Bottom 40% of words
Definition of aureole
1
a : a radiant light around the head or body of a representation of a sacred personage b : something resembling an aureole UNSUPPORTED CODE
2
: radiance, aura UNSUPPORTED CODE
3
: the luminous area surrounding the sun or other bright light when seen through thin cloud or mist : corona
4
: a ring-shaped zone around an igneous intrusion
aureole transitive verb
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Note- Sorry my friend- I know I promised you a sonnet on winter and Nature written today but my muse insisted on two more verses.
I learned long ago. my muse is a very vindictive beast when disobeyed.
Our slip away begins
From the moment of our first-drawn breath.
I've been dying all my life, I see
Yet still can smile at Death.
For if Death is Dissolution,
What cause is this for fear?
There is nothing here more terrible
Than the merging of an ocean with a tear.
Great seas roll far within us,
So as well, wide skies.
Salt of blood. wind of lungs
Descend to deeps, ascend to clouds,
As each new traveler dies.
So if the End means Meetings, Revelations
- Though my heart counsels otherwise -
Shall I then be deemed the less
For seeking soul's reflection
In lover's face, in children's eyes?
Beyond this space called here and now where hopes are often lost;
across the seething sea of time where dreams are tempest tossed,
there lies a haven well desired to gain at any cost;
to lie at anchor there will be worth all the waters crossed.
The port is gained by following a narrow path, we know.
Many ships have run aground on reefs of sin and woe.
Sound the waves and fathom out the deeps that lie below,
and guide your ship to safety, watching ever for the foe.
In that haven time will cease; the sea shall be as glass,
and all the evils known to man will in the depths be cast.
No parting and no weeping, heartaches, too, will pass
for joy will reign on every ship whose tow line is made fast.
Put forth all effort, then, to reach that harbor through the foam;
cease seeking for the pleasure isles that call the soul to roam.
Mark the charts with vision clear by heaven's starry dome;
make Christ your helmsman; through thickest fog He made that harbor home.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, 1987
From glacial mountain tops and peaks
Sunlight wakes me from my sleep
No way of telling how long I slept
Or way of knowing what time is left
Gravity takes me where I go
Often times it’s just the flow
Downward till death lets me go
Ever traveling I do not know
Waters they go where the force is leading
The shallows and the deeps competing
The secrets and gold I hide
I feed and carry sources of life
Flooding a place where stops my aim
My being is both loss and gain
And often called god or goddess
Drying unto death stops my progress
I sometimes quench the dying thirst
Or being too much I slowly curse
Dissolving structures when floods take hold
Sweep away foundations the new and old
Feed the flocks that feed a nation
Filling the swamps or leaving hydration
Douse the fires that would destroy
Bathe the unclean that would annoy
Joining the ocean the ultimate goal
No more am I when salt takes hold
From there rebirth gives me meaning
Over and over always repeating
As in crystal methamphetamine, the mind becomes cold.
Anxiety, paranoia, and schizophrenia
Creep in, like snakes and deathstalker scorpions, uncontrolled
Are bones, veins, flesh, and blood affected by asthenia?
The body begs for calm composure; the moody mind mulls.
Midst fires of optimism, the ice of pessimism melts.
Restlessness and rebelliousness resemble spineless skulls
Vandalism of vindictiveness vitiates vague vents
The feeling of freedom to fly and fervently flutter
Fill and flow flawlessly, like fine floral fluorescence.
Mild melodies of memories musically mutter
Constant conscious conscience has come to be the quintessence.
When the ice of hateful, heinous, hideous hurdles heaps
May passions of compassion flare from the depths of the deeps!
with apologies to William Blake
Hamster! Hamster! Spinning 'round
As the chimes of midnight sound,
Must you run that wheel so late
When I'd rather take sleep's bait?
Your actions make me ponder
This endless need to wander;
To run, though you have no goal,
As if Satan sought your soul.
O hamster, mine, please explain
Why you needs must cause me pain?
Why eschew the sun's bright beam
For Mistress Moon's cold white gleam?
Though born to be nocturnal,
Aspire to life diurnal
Lest your status in this house
Sink to equal that of Mouse
And your handsome fuzzy back
Provide Kitty with a snack,
Bringing silence at long last
After Kitty's said repast.
Hamster! Hamster! Spinning 'round
As the chimes of midnight sound
Must you run that wheel so late
When I'd rather take sleep's bait?
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The Tyger
BY WILLIAM BLAKE
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
The air carries winter's bite
To the ear, the nose and fingers
- But the day is full of light,
A golden shine that falls and lingers
Upon the warf and woof of everything.
The apricity all 'round is why the birds yet sing
Upon their icy perches.
A ghostly touch of warmth lies all about
As the heart conducts its silent searches
Through the deeps of cold and doubt.
Let the evils of the day suffice to themselves,
Let not the dark descend to deeper depths.
Let our better angels draw their subtle breaths,
To softly sing of virtue 'round our souls' deep wells
As the nightfrost bears the spectral knells
From distant, dreaming, timeworn towers
Slowly marking magical hours,
Casting secret shadowspells.
Let slip our barges on the sea of dreams,
Above those deeps where memory sleeps.
Smooth down the furrowed, careworn brow
As our ship above soft wavelets streams,
Unheedful of the kelpy deeps
Beneath the brightness we call Now.
Even the dead reject this blasted earth.
The ground, such as it is,
Is freshly Antidiluvean,
The corpses swim within its tumbled, heaving masses
Blood and mud the mortar
Holding the chaos together.
The sun is weak,
Ashamed to break the haze
To bring to light the obscenities transpiring here.
The whistles blow
The troglodytes emerge
From their respective holes,
Staggering towards one another
Through watery craters
Over the mincemeat of comrades
To add themselves to the swimming sacrifice
Constantly on offer
To the insatiable, sole diety of this place,
The Mud-God, Futility.
They are men no more,
Those who struggle 'neath
The leaden skies
The wan sun
Of the sodden moonscape
That is Passchendale.
They are only raging beasts
Trading pain for pain,
All trace of cause or reason
Lost in the maelstrom of their collective misery -
The only escape
Is to slay and to be slain;
To join the bitter shades
Ascending with the fog and smoke
Through the wall of cloud above,
To vanish into the icy deeps
Among the far, impassive stars.
Makes love Bathynomus giganteus
Isopod love not a casual lust
Romance private ocean deeps
Where little light ever creeps
Lovemaking crustaceans is no fuss
Do you
ever feel!?
Upside down
sideways
and bent
backwards?
Snowboarding
down slopes
of discontent
challenging
and
dangerous
With
temperatures
on the
flip side
of minus
forty degrees
hellbent
and
freezer burned
pleading
Traversing
the
powdery deeps
With
a slope of
snow rattling
your
bending knees
Freestyle
jumping
turning atop
breezes
while
twisting inside
Thinking
what a ride
While
in flight
then
flipping upright
while praying
to land
on a dime
with no
broken bones
in a
Wipeout
Just the
shattered
nerves
of an
athletes time
in their
moment
of
free styling
just shining
and stopping
on that
dime
"Fireflies and Sea Poppies"
glow up
a short life
buzzing by
lighting up the
shoreline
caves
they're heading for
silent crowded sanctuary
stick fast like glow worms
fire lit to cold walls
words on the body
of the conscious all
written thoughts
burning in soliloquay
hear the call
red sea poppies
standing scarlet
marked in high tide
do not look back
full front facing
the Ocean,
for more;
a small large life
bound to the
uncompromising
future
full front facing
still standing tall
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
"Gods of the sea;
Ino,
leaving warm meads
for the green, grey-green fastnesses
of the great deeps;
and Palemon,
bright seeker of sea-shaft,
hear me.
Let all whom the sea loves,
come to its altar front,
and I
who can offer no other sacrifice to thee
bring this.
Broken by great waves,
the wavelets flung it here,
this sea-gliding creature,
this strange creature like a weed,
covered with salt foam,
torn from the hillocks of rock.
I, Hermonax,
caster of nets,
risking chance,
plying the sea craft,
came on it.
Thus to sea god,
gift of sea wrack;
I, Hermonax, offer it
to thee, Ino,
and to Palemon."
"Hermonax", H.D.