Best Dens Poems
Whisper's of October
Whispers in this soup bowl
20 minutes after its muse explodes,
Daylight remains nothing more than a dream
Warding off the howling sound in mid-September's stream
Casting a line about a ginger light,
found in the depths of everything
Engaging from the sitting twilight, numb, tranquilized
Exposing and expressing the emotions found within
An attic lost in the Ancient sky ---awaits
A poetic hand is formed ---reaching out
A hissing whisper out of the darkness,
Listen-in, the echoes of October are calling
A halo, that reconciles a mysterious monarch moon
A mono grip in which summons a mysterious voice
of sweet serenity
Poets posting poems along the midnight page
Each poet can compose a poem and mimic free fallen verses,
One might call it a creative craving curse,
Webmaster's whose words speak for themselves
Voiceless-
They feel, and spills the will of idolized ink,
Blind-handed, splitting day from night
Warm whispers, needing no food to consume
Migraines of ink, feeding the soul
Burning Pages, overused pens
They've forgotten the pretty flowers
Living like lions, who never comes out of their dens
Murmuring and devouring, the enigmas of the unknown
Eyes behind a sieve, close tighter than before,
They hide nothing-
A world created from every sky-scrape the wall
Wanting to belong, a trick -or- treat*er in disguise
No friends, everything is pretend
These poets can’t be described, can't be believed
They are the best in what they do
For all you know this poet might be me,
This poet might be you
9/3/14
Excitement filled the bushland as December was near
Every creature had been waiting for Christmas time - all year.
Wallabies hung their stockings on a gumtree branch with care
Just as all nice children do – everywhere.
Meanwhile those more up to date logged on the internet
sending E mails to Santa to see what they could get
Koalas draped high treetops with shiny garlands green
And furry possums lined their dens in golden glitter sheen
Wallabies joined in with bright balloons hung on their tails
All the crows tied streamers, cascading from the rails.
Kookaburras’ laughter changed to Christmas songs
While magpies and peewees piped along in throngs.
A wombat and a bandicoot made honeysuckle punch
The parrots came too early and drank’ til they got drunk
And when the’ Magic Pudding’ came to help with Christmas Dinner
His taste was so delicious he left a trifle thinner.
With a Kangaroo as Santa, his pouch stuffed full of cheer
hopping ‘round the outback in the hottest time of year
Just guess what all the drovers got- lots of ice-cold beer.
Suzanne Delaney
For Children's Christmas Poem Contest for Carol Eastman
I walk past empty bedrooms that once held my boys
The beds made so perfect, the absence of noise
Books there on the book shelf and not upon the floor
No ear-splitting music, no slamming the door
It’s eerily quiet now these once busy dens
These bunkers of bustle with brothers and friends
They’re off to college now the closets are clean
They only come home now on days in between
The weeks of the study the homework and toil
With loads of their laundry all dirty with soil
These nice empty bedrooms so tidy and neat
Just aren’t the same in their pristine retreat
As when the sneakers are thrown in a corner
The fridge it is drained like an unwilling donor
The noise and the smell of exercised teens
Showing off muscles with biceps and spleens
Banging a cupboard while toasting some bread
At three in the morning before heading to bed
Now some dorm at the coast, in some far away place
Or corner of frat-house who’s presence they grace
Our bedrooms are empty the rooms nice and quiet
The sheets all in place and the fridge on a diet
But once in a while it all comes to life
Things they are back to the brotherly strife
Rooms not so tidy and sharp as a knife
As when we’re alone…just me and my wife
David Kettler
The heavy fog slowly lifts in places
Open patches of spring delight and resounds
The look-out crow caws, joyous news abounds
As rooster's crows lands in hollow spaces
The rising sun warms pale skin with graces
Awareness of a stillness settles around
Coo of the dove seems to calm and propounds
Thoughts surface above the calm, one races
Wildlife has no idea of what's ahead
They know not that storms could come and flood nests
Dens, wreck havoc, seal their fate, end life's joy
Humans bounce singing there's nothing to dread
Weak, untested in the fire, growths arrest
One incident will probably destroy
Finis'
Winter Sonata 11-29-23
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Winter Sonata
In grave allegro solo grey gathers,
Strings of winter fantasias
Brewing staccatos of frozen fall remnants,
Downbeats for the first movement
As shivering sleet wipes away bucolic barcarolles
Rocking on sapphire barges,
Harbingers of hoarfrost and hibernation,
When leafless boughs conduct the opening motif
To summon deepening darkness
From restrained shadows of turbulence
To beat warnings on frosted windows
Of snug dens – sheltered hallows.
Sweet solstice flutes sing adagio
Then scatter crystalline mists across snow packed paths
In the movement pathetique when sunglow
Glides between aspen,
Ankle deep in fleecy billows,
Sugar flakes flutter in Heaven’s perfect pitch
Rhythmic silent rests hypnotize crisp midnights
When fluttering flakes of dreamy andantes
Ride on melodic cantabile whispers
In flurries of fleecy decrescendos
Spells of codas, enthralled by idle snowfall,
Glitter in lyric tinsel of sparkling crystal beads on twigs.
Movement presto crescendos in frenzied storms
Snowfall pizzicatos fall in descending measures
When rondos of wind song ensembles
Ascend in frigid notes of icy scales
That pirouette in pulsing beats with resonate strings
Plucked by boreas in thundersnows percussions,
Vivace mistrals whirl in powdery ghosts
That spin in tremolo trills of icicles,
And in whiteout scherzos of blizzard sonatas,
Dizzy with solstice frosty fevers
As winter’s thundering cadence modulates
Into vernal sighs of resolution.
A Tale of The Last Dance
It was the last dance ever
Orders from the Kingdom Come
The one with the most golden crown
A dancing queen announces
The last dance will be thrown
For all who want a chance
At the grandest gala ever known
The kind that never ends
They’ll wear tap shoes and dance
Hardwood floors stomped on
By flamenco’s fiery trends
To the rhythmic guitar
Bollywood prancers sing along
To music of the sitar
Ballerina’s leggy, their silhouettes long
Pivoting and pirouettes in all ten dens
Symbols clicking in their hands
Belly dancers do back bends
Glittered shiny dresses twirl
Day to night transcends
The sky angels are prancing
We need not have any fears
Feathery, white-pearled wings dancing
A grand illusion it appears
When in heaven we are two
You’ll play the flute of love
My arms above my head
Cries of happy tears
If it were the last dance
I’d want to dance it with you
In the smiting chill of a dreadful wintry night
When through every fiber n’ nerve, was the cold bite,
I was sitting cocooned beside my hearth,
Sipping a cup of steaming tea of my choicest blend.
Suddenly my attention was caught by something moving,
Through my window I saw a shadowy figure.
But who would dare to be out on such a night?
It was a night when winter slumber suddenly had grown,
Into a blizzard with blinding snow and hail flooding
When the land lay blanketed under snow’s strangulating clutch
When leafless trees stood motionless like spectral shadows
When animals stayed in their boroughs or dens in hibernation
But what I thought I had seen earlier
Was not a whim or a figment of my imagination.
I clearly saw someone walking, moving slowly or stealthily.
It disturbed me and I wanted to know who he was.
Unlikely to be a robber or a rogue with some sinister intent.
Could be a man who lost his way and needed urgent help.
Impelled by an irresistible urge to find out who he was,
I plunged myself into the sea of snow holding on to faith.
Faint moon light was shimmering between dancing snowflakes.
Not quite sure if I would find an enemy or a friend,
I walked on, pledging I would face what might come.
As I moved closer to that tottering figure
I realized he was someone half frozen in snow,
Desperately trying to get back home,
And I was on a divine mission to be the hands of God,
To direct a waylaid traveler back home,
And save a helpless soul from being frozen to death.
I don’t know what happened to that man beyond that night,
But am sure, he has survived many more winters,
And would be thankful to God for the providential help,
That saved his drowning life on such a fateful wintry night.
Now when I think of it, I feel even a bleak winter day,
Can be made bright by the power of kindness that we show.
It is the concern and preparedness to help someone in trouble,
That ignites our hearts with a divine spark and helps us connect.
On the streets of sin city, on the high roller's main drag,
Known as the Las Vegas Strip, a gentlemen phantom
Does stroll dressed in all black attire, striding forth with his golden Cain,
Flipping a silver chip into the air, and mocking at its power.
The devil's agent of deception is he, retaining a list of names
To collect upon, this gentlemen bandit of the forsaken.
He is here on the dark master’s behalf, ready to claim on
The I.O.U's signed by the greedy, and innocence fallen.
Quietly, moving amongst the crowded venues, he waits
Until his lord calls the name of the unlucky, to be reposed.
Dance do the neon lights, flashing towards pleasure dens of iniquity,
As ladies whom belong unto the night itself, offer their
Tokens of favor, for a working man's paycheck.
Black jacks twenty-one, cut those cards, and pass them out
The first timers dumb luck, will deliver him unto evil,
On this walkers dead man's list tonight.
Against the loaded dice, no soul is left unsanctified,
On the sacred green velvet altar, the wheel of fortune
Spins out of control, then hitting the baccarat tables
Wooden wall, someone screams snake eyes.
Then all is lost, faded are the dreams of illusion, melting away
Into the harsh desert soil, along the road side leading to sin city.
Beneath the arid sandy duns, lies the grave yard
Of the unknown unidentified, a missing persons
Smorgasbord of the rich and infamous, lying right
Beside, the unreported poor man corpse.
This is the Grim Reapers play ground, taunting
And tormenting, those begging for redemptions
Last chance to gain a reprieves pardon.
But when tapped by his golden cain of death,
Your life's essence has wagered it's last bet,
To the winner goes the spoils, and now you
Belong unto the devil.
People say what happens in Vegas stays
There, and rightly so will he agree, with his blackened
Heart and soul, for after all is this not
The capital of hell on earth, known as
Sin City, Las Vegas, Nevada.
The populations of the undead just added
Another’s names tally and the gentlemen
Dressed all in black, is sent a wandering
Again amongst the crowed streets, to claim
Another victim in the dark master’s wrath of
Vengeance.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
old tigers from dens
waiting to come out of sleep
for Valentines kiss
old tigresses fear
emotional utterance
may be played again
Wish you all P.S. friends Happy Valentines Day, enjoy
For Contest: 101 in a ROW contest -5
Sponsored by: PD
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Gliding joyfully through pleasures dens place; adorned afresh in her lovely bareness
Natures sweet child; the lady of my dreams this woman that, I adore; such purity
Lying afore the fireshearth parting, her long silkened legs; she always knows...
Softly with a smile and her breast, rising amid this familiar desire; her beauty ~
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...“The Maiden, of My Love” *
“And into the forest I go to lose my mind and find my soul.” - John Muir
The forest is a calm spiritual place,
a balsam scented and serene space.
Rabbits hide in mossy dens,
with fresh mushroom gems.
Magical!
Cleanse.
Fanciful,
trees, flowers and stems.
Where creatures sleep and some race.
A place to treat with kindness and grace,
the forest is a calm spiritual place.
1/21/23
Contest: Writing Challenge - Andaree Form
Sponsor: Constance La France
( howmanysyllables and rhymezone used to check poem)
The Dolphins in the sea dear Lord, they dance for You
They dance for You, I know they do....
Trees which sway in the breeze their rejoicing, as they bow
Calling Your name as they bow, to You dear Lord, I know they do ~
Birds that sing, Mountains and Oceans that gaze, Angels who bring
These Gifts of Your Light and Love, to this world, I know they do?!
Everywhere I turn I find You there, Your Beauty, filling the air....
In the night sky Your Stars that shine; Your Holy Spirit *
Within all of Humankind; their Hearts, their Eyes; Your Creations
The valleys, the fields, the depths, the heights; Your Glory ~
Your Majesty; the darkness can no longer hide!?
Your Kingdom, dear Lord, soon like a rushing tide; washing away
Forever the sorrow amid it all; this day, this poisoned dust....
O' death where is your sting? O' grave where is your victory?
Swallowed! As a shooting comet piercing this passing plight!
“Free at last, thank God Almighty, we're free at last.” ~
The Lions in their dens, the Babies in their cribs....
Every living thing and every Spirit reaching out; Shout
For the Lord His coming; His hands, His Love, His plans
Eternity, with the Majestic and Only, Glorious Great I Am *
The Prince of Peace, the King of Kings, the Beginning, and the End....
Standing at heavens threshold; everywhere I turn, everyday, every
Breath I take, I find You there, dear Lord?!
In the flowers, in the forest, in the sky, in, their Beautiful Lives ~
Deep inside; Humankind, this rushing tide; “All of Creation”
They dance for You, dear Lord, they dance for You, I know they do....
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....“Selah” * ~ {Written 10/29/05} ~ * “Selah.”
A huge Alsatian barks at a passerby stranger
as the pond geese honk sensing grave danger
Trudges back home a rangy lone ranger.
Big and little aubergines cast a purple shade
In the twilight birdsong begins to fade
Night makes navy-blue of the greenery's jade.
Wolves howl in the distance
Panthers prowl near pig pens
Ocelots growl around the dens.
Dolphins perform in the aquatic circus
Kids count on the time-old abacus
All in all the miracle of creation's fabulous
Elsewhere the morn dawns upon wee ladybirds
And shepherds go about grazing their hungry herds.
A rare sight of starfishes settle upon beach pebbles
Pink salmon in a see-through lake breath out bubbles
Bombed by tech; corpses found in debris and rubbles!
Wild species lurk in the murky forest
Stands tall and hovering high mount Everest
A chance to enjoy nature at its very best!
Admit it O' mankind no one can ever be
at par with your and my versatile Creator
The billions of species is far too extraordinary
He single-handedly created all that variety in nature.
For even the clever human who invented the radio
did not as well model the computer.
The one who designed my dresser couldn't design my patio
It'd be rare for a shoemaker to also be a tutor
But God He made both ant and elephant
and there's absolutely nothing that He can't.
We went to the zoo that fine summers day
Seeing many an animal in captivity play
From all over the world, five continents all
Where many are thriving, and many will fall
I find it ironic when we view and we stare
For outside we slaughter, in their dens and their lairs
The above line tells me that the zoos are the place
To save her gems whilst us humans lose face
As her marvels diminish, we praise these acres of land
And salute those who cared and drew up their plans
For the zoos they created are their dreamed thoughts ahead
Without these few acres, many species would be dead
So next time you visit, either a zoo or a park
Look beyond their boundaries, as you stand in the Ark
October enters on a chilly wind,
The leaves fall from the trees.
Harvest is done, the fields lay bare,
The birds now take their leave.
All nature prepares for winter.
They ensure their dens will be warm.
Some lay in nuts and grasses,
To see them through fierce winter storms.
Soon ice will form on the lake,
The first snows begin to fall.
The air grows steadily cooler,
And the Northern Lights have a ball.
All seasons have their own special colors.
This goes for Winter as well,
And the Northern Lights are a rainbow,
A rainbow of colors that swell.
They writhe and twist across the sky,
And sometimes they shoot like an arrow.
Sometimes they billow like a curtain in the wind.
Sometimes they're round or narrow.
They are a gay display of color,
Against a black velvet sky.
Winter is filled with color,
If we will just open our eyes.
There are sparkling stars against a black velvet sky,
And icey blues to whitest white,
And icicles forming crystal chandeliers,
To brighten the darkest night.