Best Dendrites Poems
A visitor—
icicle fingers
tapping on my windows' pain—
white blanket in tow
Hurting enough, I paid him no mind
so he kept tap, tap, tapping
‘til cobweb-like cracks appeared:
a final, gentle tap
shatters my windows
My rainbow world
now smothered, pallid,
forced into boredom and slumber,
sunlight chased away
and I am never the same again…
Soul gets plunged deep in the cold
blinded by whiteness, numbed with simplicity
there is an eerie stillness,
almost as if no one dared to breathe,
even the barren trees refused to quiver
brittle dendrites seem to claw the sky
futile though, for they are frozen,
grasping at nothingness,
clouds stubborn and stoic,
brooding in silent grayness
…and then from within, a filigreed whisper escapes
palpable and brave~
it weaves its way through the branches,
gathering strength wherever it went
it beckons to the sky, which in turn
gives in and celebrates ~
letting dainty confetti fall
white, yet amazingly graceful
each flake falls softly on the ground—
a fashionable brocade
trees softly sway now,
and dance to a winter song
the sky weeps with happiness
for seeing a glimpse of life—
diamond teardrops
they catch a bit of evasive sunlight,
of which I thought I’ve lost
and give birth to miniature rainbows…
all this time, Sunlight was there
I just
never knew
how to
catch
it.
an audio of me reciting this poem
http://www.4shared.com/music/Q_tqp2LEba/suncatcher.html?#
Categories:
dendrites, inspirational, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
Being stuck is how I learned I am a cartoonist,
A poet, a writer, a painter.
Being stuck is what makes me
Seek something new that will interest me.
I know when my brain needs something new.
Her dendrites are crying for another language,
vocabulary words, new methods of painting.
I know I must feed her, so she can be the most
creative happy fun-loving dancing self she can be.
This is when I begin learning something new.
I do not care what it is - racquetball, paintball, Harry Potter,
something I did not know about yesterday. To loosen her and
allow her to be the best she can be. I either pick up a book
about something I have never learned or I pick up a hobby. If I have a broken ankle, I click on the History Channel to feed my dendrite highway and retain enthusiasm.
Categories:
dendrites, education, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
L ittle voices, rising in volume and pitch
I mploring teacher, begs all available aids to help pop
C oats, hats, muffs, mitts, sweaters, gloves, socks, shoes, and boots on 39
K indergarten urchins who are galloping around the room, or jumping on ball
chairs.
E veryone is excited; the snow is falling and
T he five-year-olds woke up screaming with excitement,
Y elling their head dendrites off, dancing and galloping
S ix ways to Sunday, and it’s only Tuesday,
P rincipal skates into the room, “Lickety Split!” she yells.
“L et’s all help, and get them out there quick!” The 2nd grade teacher sticks in
her head to hollar,
“I ce will be here within the hour. Everybody help.” A bunch of 4th and 5th
graders run in to help dress
t hem. Seconds later, the worn-out Kindergarten
Teacher throws out a magic lasso, and 39 kindergarteners all grab hold. The next minute, they
land in a big snow drift.
“Lickety, lickety, yickety, bickety, pickety, split!” they all yell, running away in every conceivable direction.
Written 4-9-2018 Contest: What I Like Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Maureen McGreavy
Categories:
dendrites, 1st grade, 2nd grade,
Form:
Acrostic
So easily my brain ceases to be
Lacked in comfort how hectic it could be
Brain cells wrapped around membranes like tree stems
Within the frameworks of the Universe
Brain cells have more mass than stars that compass
So easily my brain ceases to be
Dendrites form the shadows of tree branches
Visually compelling to the eye-minded
Brain cells wrapped around membranes like tree stems
Does this brainstorm begin and have an end?
Twirling and swirling can’t we comprehend?
So easily my brain ceases to be
Medicines that we can’t apprehend
Enabling the brainstorm that never ends
Brain cells wrapped around membranes like tree stems
Mystery enshrouds our Brain’s functions
Those pills blunt and fill those with apathy
So easily my brain ceases to be
Brain cells wrapped around membranes like tree stems
Categories:
dendrites, anxiety, conflict, confusion, crazy,
Form:
Villanelle
MY WINTER
Prepared for this cold winter?
Tree fronds hang their heads,
flashing lights hang tight.
Bowed and bollixed presents —
depressed. The absence of
a merry Spring — the empty nest.
Emotions chill, shiver...
Turtlenecks without hugs.
The whiteout of snow —
knees shovel the heavy load.
Deleterious decorations,
keepsakes of holiday romance —
kids sledding and cutting cookies,
hot chocolate and kindled laughter.
Icicles cling like burs
to my dendrites,
stinging my eyes.
Yet, jingle bells soon ring,
with Nor’easter winds —
grandchildren chill for a season.
and with chattering teeth, I grin.
11/19/2017
Viv Wigley’s My Winter Contest
Categories:
dendrites, depression, family, hope, winter,
Form:
Verse
I slid the slider to my art studio with cautious optimism,
Hoping to find my brushes and glitter and paint and glue
Somewhere close to where I had left them last night.
The bright pink paint I had specifically placed front and center was missing.
Let us not jump to conclusions, my socialized mind said. Maybe it was not last night.
Maybe you put it there the night before last night.
We were not out here the night before, my dendrites argued after they had connected last night’s thinking.
My paint water was in its usual place. My brushes were where I had left them.
I usually use thirty to forty brushes a day, so there is no way to tell if they had been moved or were missing.
Everything else appeared to be exactly as it was yesterday.
I immediately began convincing myself that I must have moved that neon leather paint at the last second before turning and shutting the slider.
Faeries and elves do not paint in here I argued.
That is absurd and realistically unsound. Right?
But what if they do move the paint, dancing and twirling through it? Creating new magic with their little ballerina shoes?
What if they come in here and slide across the canvases, dropping glitter and enhancing my stuff?
What if they are like the shoemaker elves, fixing my mistakes in the middle of the night?
Thinking I had heard a tiny little patter of a faerie foot, I turned and looked at my art table.
Whereby sat the hot pink neon paint that was not there a moment before.
What if?
Written 10-3-2018 Poetry Contest: The Paint Movers
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Categories:
dendrites, fairy, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
intoxicated by entwined souls,
breasts beating, breathing
in the amalgamation of us.
trust in lips, tongues, stress
of otherworldly communication.
neo-occasion of bare skin,
slightly shy, surrendering
to the shift and slide—
sensuality played portentously…
innocence irrigated…
blind.
intoxicated by the itch;
you scratch
my back like a kitten.
my feet and knees
find your warm precipices
of carnal knowledge.
together we learn
there’s an inner universe;
exploration
of mysterious habitation.
in practice, in habit
tingling of dendrites
over and over again.
intoxication’s jealous—
jumps for joy
at your touch…
knows where your headed
north or south…
intoxicated by extremes,
the shudder of sensuality,
shamelessness of dreaming
in your bed, calling only
your name, stamped
with approval— our’s,
story comes to
a climactic conclusion—
Your Welcome.
9/9/2021
“I'' Contest New or Old
Sponsor: Constance La France
Categories:
dendrites, marriage, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
My lover is to me a cluster of henna blossoms
from the vineyard of En Gedi.
Song of Songs 1:14 NIV
he is vulnerable
with me.
he is charming, handsome —
his silver hair and bedroom eyes.
i press my nose
into the featherbed of his chest —
the mix of his scent with cologne
his arms encircle me
embrace only me
the ripples of henna
paint a vista
for my love and me —
our song of songs
blossoms
we’ve left youth behind
embracing the divine.
he knows me —
the cluster of our fingers
singularity, our intimate jokes
and home sweet home.
after the sprig of coolness
excites and weaves
into the dendrites and sinews
of our life,
comes the wintergreen crest
of the ocean’s shiver,
climatic and familiar
rock of our houseboat —
survivor of tempests.
j’aime mon mari —
love defies the language
and sound barrier, the dangerous
reefs. communication,
as our pressed together crowns
on downy pillows,
speaks with its own lavender ink.
6/10/2019
Categories:
dendrites, love, marriage,
Form:
Free verse
Personification is my favorite poem to write.
I can fly to my nest and feed my eaglets,
or I can scare humans to death with my wolf howl.
Personification forces me to enter my subject's heart and soul
Not easily done unless you have experience, and enthusiasm for it.
I love this type of poem the best, for I have mastered it in some ways.
I have been a Sears catalog, a Merry-go-round, and a rabbit.
My pages, ponies, and carrot munching teeth show you this, right?
Personification makes me feel safe, flows over my dendrites gladly.
My muse gets excited and begins typing before I have time to agree.
I have been a pirate's parrot, and a Iron's spray bottle.
I have been a mountain range, and a mouse's mistress.
Once you get the hang of it, you may feel joy and excitement.
Developing more character traits like self-respect and self-control
is a mere sideline benefit. Personification. My favorite poetry type.
Come sit by me, we can write your first one together, my friend.
Categories:
dendrites, introspection, poems, poetess, poetry,
Form:
Blank verse
God lets us see life from every angle. Anklebiters that we are. Fist fighters, black-eyed contenders, snivelers. The boss looks down, looks into our eyes, looks at our feet, looks underneath. We don’t see the cobwebs between our fingers and toes, in our mouth and ears. Our hairdos make us look like weirdos, piled fry-high, like the bride of Frankenstein. Our hearts shoved into the easy-bake of childhood. Black-spider shades grip our nose and tether behind our ears, holding onto dendrites. White teeth flash their watermelon pits, black and blue. God lets us see from every angle. The dark spots hinder perfect sight, the dark holes below lower lashes, thinning lips, fattening thighs, exercising our rights, but mostly wrongs. I hear the gong...not many do. Do we belong to the world or to our God? Is this yet Babylon. Our speech once babbled, have we forgotten? Why do you think we don’t all speak the same language? Scientists prove there’s been a worldwide flood. Jesus walked the earth and the sun. Now you see the one world coming together. Remember what happened last time the world did this — were we not scattered? Scientists say there was a continental divide — this once united mass. Indeed we are anklebiters, curtain climbers, toddlers. God lets us find our own stray. Can we find our own way?
1/6/2021
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done in earth,
as it is in heaven.
Matthew 6:10 KJV
Categories:
dendrites, christian,
Form:
Prose
Moonbow magic held me spellbound,
Momentarily enthralled, I climbed to new heights,
Momentously inspired, I painted the ultimate,
Making magic with oranges, reds, and pinks shooting
Magically into a dark, happy, explosive background
Mystically honored, I watched my dendrites bring forth that
Merriment which I could have never brought forth without
Moonbow magic that set inspiration on a
Mystical, magical,rejuvenated path of pure enthusiasm
Maximizing my poet's heart.
Categories:
dendrites, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
The greens of the forest open my mind
tantalizing me with their well-kept secrets
wowing me with their varieties and textures
refreshing me with a shiny coolness not found
in concrete landscapes or graffiti-decorated
boxcar yards. Bringing with her loveliness
side dishes of baby blue soft sky and dainty
pure scented violets that arouse my dendrites
and entice my imagination like nothing else does.
Categories:
dendrites, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
Rejuvenating world
A sun of orange, yellow, and red.
Blue bird tree, ebony swirled
Artist clearly has creative head
Exhilarating magic
Whimsical ideas profound
Spiral snow fantastic
Appreciation all around
Circulating in my head
Visions of pure whimsy
Delicate colors, clearly fed
Artwork anything but flimsy
Rejuvenating world
Makes my soul want to sing
My dendrites clearly twirled
Magic world in the spring.
Categories:
dendrites, art, creation, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
The truth is there but hidden from the concretes.
The metaphors resounding in the path of elephants
Drowned out by thinkers who do not connect the swirls
With the dendrites they could have grown had they chosen too.
The wit is there for the abstracts to glean and relish
For the writers and thinkers to enjoy lavishly as they read.
The humor is popping off the page for those who see.
The dreamers, the lovers, the seers, they laugh with relish.
The imagery is there in thousand dollar words,
In words we know not every day, and use only in poems.
The feelings are there, and are often felt by even the concretes.
The soul knows what the closed minds cannot.
Categories:
dendrites, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Blank verse
"Walking on Water in the Between Worlds Place"
when darkness came
the remaining,
those beautiful
transingularity
neo-automatons,
imbued with dark matters
running through the wired
dendrites of their splintered brain,
where implanted, the voices
of the neo-god speaks
instructing those
voluptuous and fresh
criminal bodies
calling the hungry
and wanton in, like magnets -
the soft sell was easy.
all hard served, fast and slick.
at first visceral, then,
it was deemed
the intellect wasn’t
necessary -
the new sensual feeling,
bodies and mind
caressed by a
small Neuralink RFID.
like snow white
encased in silicate glass,
for a while asleep, when
turned on, very much
awake.
some called it,
the great gambling chip;
flashing light signals
heavy free energy sitting
on malleable shoulders
that danced wars robotic,
puppets chained and pulled
like walking torture chambers,
loaded cartridges spinning
metal hearts cloned to ignite
like atomic bombs kissing
seconds to midnight.
clockwork armies
were laid bare
by the fire behind
eyes alone, sharp knives
like lasers eviscerate
those transfixed to
a new state of -
"Behold
I am come
Home";
they all eventually
implode to the
nowhere place.
only Love injected
into what exists soulless
half djinn in that desolate
between worlds place,
with a kiss, passed on the
voiceless tongue,
the tablets, wafer thin,
now like Moses speak -
a new ecstasy
melting the monochrome
back to barely human
on their pronoun knees.
targets sometimes
could be saved
before the strangest
Winter arrived
in the underworld,
its new revolution -
revelations raging
in the time of the
chromatic wasting,
chronicles of the unsaved
walking on water
in the between worlds place
the children of Lot
lost in the grips
of the new world
that dreadful
dimensionless
judgement domain
forever in
episcop-alien
glitch
on repeat
repeat
repeat
repeat
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"We live dangerous lives
We have the power of will
We turn logic around
We feed the engine of change"
Categories:
dendrites, future, religion, science fiction,
Form:
Narrative