Best Deserted Poems
Not friend of man or beast, or kind to any soul,
not even their own.
Perhaps compassion deserted them, along with reason
leaving not even an even-tongue..
in a dangerous clouded head.
Or maybe found under a curse from a long ago wrong.,
cast at birth or last dawn' cropping season, ill thoughts
impure to many.
Maniacal in gaze. Sees.. but doesn't see,
no feeling left..
if ever there was any.
When encountering something perceived to be weaker,
don't respond the way most would.
As I write this, feel so sorry..
for all smaller creatures in wrenching hands..
crushed without a twitch of remorse.
Talk in whispers, don't wake their ire..
you can't outrun or outlast them..
not in words, or mannerisms, no chance.
Don't cross them, or fall hard in love..
they're already jealous., quick to anger,
always seething, like a kettle ready to boil.
One with nothing left to lose.
You are a player in an unfamiliar game..
tilted off balance of normal,
just a prize for them, all the same.
It's easier to be anyone else than the others.
Standing out in a cold dark night looking..
at the warmth that true companionship brings.
Life's best to live, and to give, though sure and not sure,
were it your neck so close to break.
Be the soul of leniency and mercy.,
send prayers, show kindness, and in kindness judge..
if you must.
Though never invest, or feel too sorry..,
nor trust what you hold dear..,
and never turn your back on
the others.
~~~~~~~~ Dedicated to Stephen King ~~~~~~~~
In the midst of a forty-five degree silicate sea
Winds carry arid mists
Blinding unprotected eyes
Burying the unsuspecting
Hard waves break on the dunes
Precipitating salty tears with cruel irony
Feet, firmly rooted
Skin, steadfast in the unrelenting midday sun
Arms, outstretched
Right hand, due south
Fingers, arrayed, elements, antennae
Left balances right
Body rotates, slowly
Shoulders
Hips
Balls of the feet
Right arm sweeps the compass
Eyes, closed in concentration
West; sparks of latent inspiration
Arc from distant faulted subduction,
Eyes, open in anticipation
Convected curtains corrupt the clear air
Shimmering over a non-existent lake
Mirrored mirage
Making me shiver despite the oppressive atmosphere
Blurred images come and go
Through the poorly receptive ether
Shapes raising spirits
Smudges dashing them
Despairing grey
Mysterious black
Optimistic white
Bleached and burned
A rainbow away from the memory of hope
Monochrome dreams distilled from coalesced emotions
Abstraction dissolves to substantion
Pulse becomes sway
Refracted gamut of grey
Washes pastels over a hazy outline
Flowing cotton dress
Desire
Copper hair
Passion
Dark bright eyes
Ardour
Heart and soul on fire
Flames of wishing, wanting, needing
Lick the air in every direction
Which way to run?
There is no choice
Always towards
Always the agonizing experience
Of illusion
Not this time...
I plead
Who would imagine that my life would come down to the edge of a blade
worked and worked on stone, scraping off goo and removing the bites?
Or that when I tumbled and rolled in the surf, unsure what was up.
storm rolling hard against breakers that I would remain intact?
It’s breath holding time, while rain smashes down, winds howl and the stir
rocks you until you forget your name and then finally silence, the deep breath
sauna time arising with sun, I scramble for cover, glad my Teva sandals
prevent the shells slicing at my skin, I must duck down into forest
looking to quench thirst, handy filter bottle in hand to conquer
all the parasites and villains unseen about to attack what is left.
Forgive me then, Father, for I have fallen to worship my survival blade,
prying out oysters, scraping out crabs, peeling the papaya
for I drink well of thy wine, fruit of my body, rendered and purified
and wander as I will through this vast new place I’ve come
lost to find self, and prayer for the fragile web of blessings
that save me from skewered, smashed, expiring, but shaded by your love.
deserted beach
walking with gulls and tide-
letter from home
I am deserted aged man,
Searching something,
Fills my lonesome life;
Sitting in chair outside bungalow,
With 4 luxury rooms and 5 maids;
Surrounded by virgin mountains,
All greenery exhilarating view;
fluttering cool dancing lake,
making vibrant teasing sound;
birds sitting on tree too don't spare,
Sing a song " O' lonely lovelorn man,
impish world isn’t for you;
It's for couple live in love;
We watch you sit all alone watching us,
We sing and revel in pair;
Cool breeze too attacking me,
Says, you are so cool,
Bring someone who warms you up;
you lonely worth no mountains,
it’s a heaven meant for family man;
You can't savor nature's bliss,
unless U’r happy man;
promising thoughts blew my mind,
I have no one share my thoughts,
In this old age,
have no one I can live for;
Not even kids,
they send greetings full of stupid quotes,
And say thank you papa,
you are inspiration of life,
In all occasions receive
junk greeting cards,
Sometimes dump them In waste bin,
I lived for wife and for kids,
Did not remarry was a mistake;
life is Sahara totally dry;
In old age no one wants,
How long carry old age curse;
Many aged suffer,
severe life worst than me;
they dump aged in old age home,
send rubbish greetings,
Happy birthday, father’s day,
Happy Christmas happy new year,
sparks pain of already injured;
World is mean live or not,
They don't care;
Greeting cards are no worth,
You stupids don't know,
Aged man only needs,
Someone listen the story I have;
we aged need no much,
but good memories and
a glimpse of kids to live rest of life...
Boiling, baking and blazing,
Other synonyms for heat.
My camel is happily dazing,
He was not a restful seat.
Poolside I’ll later be lazing,
Resting my sunburnt feet.
Air conditioning is amazing,
Ice cream is a lovely treat.
closed
this deserted carnival
for winter
in a small tidal pool
a moon jelly in moonlight
lying on a bench in my favourite corner,
watching the deserted garden,
small trees standing not moving,
surrounded by withered flowers,
they must be unhappy !
cause those days are colder than ever ,
but they are defying the wild weather ,
they usually dance and follow the rhythm
but not any further ..
nothing changes but the rhythm,
it was soothing and cozy
but not any further..
they can't hear it , they can't feel it !
played with bitterness , they can't handle it ..!
the gardner left them in fact ,
it was a thoughtless act ,
how could he tell
that they'll never bloom again ?!
morning comes ,
hopefully the sun rise !
the coldness starts to fade ,
flowers start to grow and bloom again
it's not about failure !!
it's all about how to rise again...
A train siren screams in the desert
Impoverished by strangers' intentions on board
Desert winds howl at a fictitious moon
As my door is rattling with ghosts without names
I jump into the passing train with my restless mind
What if I can't grab the handles and fall into the Abyss?
Coyotes will devour my heart;
its heaviness will become theirs for Life...
Perhaps that's why they travel in Packs - to ease the pain
of lonely heart punctured by their canines
I see myself at the foggy window of a passing train
"Take me with ME !!! "
I cry as my train disappears in the water-sky of a Mirage...
copyright@iolandascripca2013
All men have born desires
garland of the prettiest arm.
Want to meet in the loveliest Place
Where no hurdle no harm.
She was waiting to Mr right
Spider webs to trap just right.
The sea of sand was all over
But emotions not mood to over.
Mirage born ownself in hot summer
Desert to quench herself
From the blood of the craziest
Creatures , mad behind the mates.
The thirsty traveller no mood
To give up so easily.
Move forward in the Thar desert
With wised steps gradually.
She was standing in isolated land
The desert at not present water tank.
To hug her crazy moth which
Will add a more number in her hunt.
Mirage produces in sunny noon
In sand to catch unknown fellow.
My friend was almost mad behind Angel
Don't recognise the upcoming fellow.
The body and the soul were thirsty
Very strong these were both.
No one ready to move back
So he travelled to quench both.
Now the real world and the real goal
Feet scored miles and miles to go.
Which goal post he wanted to goal
Still, didn't have a hole to goal.
His breath was leaving without any alarm
My feet were freezing without cold.
Dearest few steps your can make me alive
If you want to save ,without delay hold.
Come on, come on my kind princess
Come on my sweetheart
I have left the world far behind
Come on and hug me , if don't mind.
Break hurdle from surroundings
Break chains of illusion own self
Stretch hands to welcome me
Come out from the fairy tale thyself.
Don't become very shirty
I am not behaved as dirty
Please, quench body and soul's thirsts
No one can do this except you buddy.
I am dying without water
Millions yards I covered for you
Looks insufficient to meet you
But remaining must cover you.
But regret she was unmoved
And so friend was lying unmoved.
Looking himself in the mirror
He can feel that someone waits for him
Beside the lake wearing her black attire
Holding sky in countenance
Ocean in her blue gaze
He wishes to kiss the cloud
He keeps looking at while she stands still
He is confused but stares at the small hill
Lovely story under a white shroud
Bleeding tears in eyes
She stands a statue kissing
Her own psychic salt
A heavy rock on his heart
The girl he has deserted
___________________________________
01/09/2016 for: Challenge - Write One – Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
Parents do not desert your children,
If you desert your children then you do not understand the essence of child bearing.
Children should not be motherless or fatherless!
Help your children to acquire knowledge and skills to be beneficial to society and nation.
chipepo lwele
he was the crusty cocoon covering the caterpillar
boneless, yet filled with vibrant life, and belittling
the very source of her security, and the sacrifices
the casing made to transform frailty and un-beauty
later to lighter flight, much fluttering with splendour
of myriad colours as of acrylic paint and clear-coat
for weathering both the hot sun and the wet rain
before seizing the right moment to flirt with another
and never return to the cocoon, the first house
that remains deserted, forever a broken heart, blood
now dried, able to give no more life, mere useless
clothing, like the shed skin of a snake now escaped
A castoff used only for the music purchased
purposefully, exceedingly carefully,
as though a mistaken choice would
distress the listener
somehow
it went missing around the time you did.
I could only hope someone else was
pressing its buttons now – turning it
on and off at will, turning up the volume,
making it scream, holy hell, until
the attention was on and for nothing else.
When it was around, nothing else mattered.
I could listen to its music all day and never
be bored of it, but I didn’t want to rely on the music
it played to get through my day, to sit through inane,
purposeless meetings while I tried to look attentive,
all the while wondering when I’d get the
chance to play it again.
I recall it had been put down carelessly.
It wasn’t well placed in a spot I’d remember.
Complacent and common, somewhere it sat
until someone smart enough to see it
for what it was
took it up, held it close,
and would never let it go.
breeze
ruffles
old curtains
of empty room
... bleak
once
a home
empty now
unemployment's
curse
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
for Nette's 'Turn on the
Lanterne' contest
by Francine Roberts 05/09/2011