Best Discerned Poems
I was enjoying my time in the sandbox
When a redhead with freckles climbed in.
The glint in his eyes left no question,
His mission was ruin and sin.
With my pail I had sculpted a castle,
But he eyed it with fiendish disdain.
His foot was the boot of destruction,
And he smashed it without any shame.
He laughed when he saw my reaction,
Through my tears I could tell he was glad.
My first lesson was learned in that sandbox,
There's nothing can keep out the bad.
I discerned that the boy with the freckles,
Had no interest in making a friend.
Though he had the face of an angel,
His looks hid a devil within.
I met him again in the school yard,
He was older and meaner by then.
He twisted my arm back behind me,
And insisted that I holler out, "When!"
I wish I could boast I played hero,
But he scared me out of my wits.
He growled "say when or I'll break it."
And I knew that I dare not resist.
All through the rest of my school days,
He tormented me whenever he could.
I spent way too much time in hiding,
Too fearful to do what I should.
We crossed paths again playing soccer,
And of course we were on different teams.
His attacks were not part of the playing,
He got off on the pain and the screams.
We never met while I was in college,
Though I heard he had landed in jail.
I wasn't glad at all that it happened,
Till I though of that sandbox and pail.
Like all lights at the end of the tunnel,
Aren't those that you wish would remain.
For a light in the darkness can fool you,
And turn out to be an on-coming train.
There's no judging a book by its cover,
So I caution you girls, "stay alert."
Some of those boys who have freckles,
Are devils who love bringing you hurt.
I wished to ascend,
so I called a friend,
who knew of such things
and how to grow wings.
‘God’s abode’s within’,
he said, ‘so begin,
by simply choosing,
head and heart, fusing’.
‘Each impulse distil,
aligned with His will’.
So I set out thus,
aboard God’s love bus.
I reached heaven’s gate
and there chose to wait,
for the gate was locked,
so I stood there docked.
A voice then affirmed
that I’d have discerned,
the gate’s my ego,
which I must forgo.
Once there’s no blockage
and no desires rage,
cleansed of every sin,
I may then walk in.
I cowered in fear,
for my life was dear.
What’s left, if I die?
Is heaven, a lie?
Conscience egged me on,
ego shorn, reborn,
the false dropped away;
I saw then God’s play!
I was living light,
shining day and night.
The gate was but thought,
fears, ego begot.
The manifest world,
but intent unfurled,
to know all are one,
each being God’s son.
Life’s a lucid dream,
where thought forms do stream.
To exit this game,
simply take God’s name.
The rot’s sunk in deep.
How long will we sleep?
There’s no gate, dear friend.
Vaporise! Ascend!
23-June-2022
One In Five Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Syllables: HMS
The little imp bawled lustily
as it lay in its perambulator
there by the water fountain
in a secluded garden
right in the middle of a concrete jungle,
disturbing my elevated thoughts
that churned and churned inside my mind
on how to kill those pesky flies
that infested my rundown abode.
It was no use for me
to kick any brilliant idea around,
so long as that pesky brat
disturbed the silence all around.
Why even the doves stopped cooing
and other birds stopped chirping,
whilst most decided that 'twas best
to search for a quieter place.
So I walked up to his comely nurse
sitting contentedly on a bench
and scratching my unshaven face
I quite politely asked
why the little cherub cry so much!
She looked me up and down
and down and up, no doubt
disgusted by what she discerned.
"Maybe he's seeing a devil,"
she replied, cooing at the cherub
that made its bright new pram
quiver with yelping wails.
"Or maybe he's thirsty,"
scathingly I replied.
Cherub my foot, I thought.
And sighing I slowly repaired
back to my solitary bench
and thought and thought on
how I could kill those parasites
that bothered me as much
as that little cherub in the pram.
oh dear heaven ...
how impeccant …
how subtly innocent and eager!
are you truly as oblivious as you seem?
oh, I am sure of otherwise …
or would there not be so much unsullied skin laid bare -
so few garments that thus adorn the masterpiece?
utter innocence, burning in the motion of your stride ...
a fortuitous feast of flames for the common!
the gods themselves feign deference to such fair symmetry,
and barter the heavens for but a grace of your shadow -
you are pristine virtue, annotated ...
you are torturous fare for the plain and fallow,
and envy for even the inimitable …
innate sensuality trickles from your feathery brow
to your Lilliputian toes, (painted bubblegum pink),
tracing an unblemished dermal landscape
that any hormone-hewn human would consider a dream destination …
you exude a connate allure, inexplicable,
enchanting even the stars -
sky weeping in exquisite anguish for sake of your fluid movement,
saucy, exposed hips,
tossed with coy yet libidinous intent,
their immaculate and fluid rhythm
catching in chests like a cardiac event,
pulling the breath from lungs around you like taffy,
(and not returning without discerned effort),
every gaze in your line swinging in matched tempo,
stupefying all within your affect ...
a mass hypnosis inspired by your walk alone -
ponytail braid and pink ribbon sway in opposite tempo,
adding to the sassy attitude …
eyes, pure white arctic spheres
with polished onyx centers,
set to possess the soul, should they find your focus …
faultless, blue-white smile,
framed by sugar plum lips, shaped to perfect bows ...
oh dear heaven!
such resplendent rapture should they whisper your name!
such divine intoxication should those eyes affix yours!
the gods themselves are weeping wonder ...
the gods themselves!
* SECOND PLACE in the "Free Verse On Love" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor. *
Jealousy, envy, strife, lies, and, fire.....
What bitter and poisoned fountains, these surely are
Spewing forth both fresh and salt waters, at the very same time
These houses built upon the shifting sands
Tilting towards their inevitable crumblings....
Always learning but never growing, these petals of strident deceits
Fragrant and putrid, mingled scents of their truth!
Revealing themselves always, to the eyes which matter the most
Eyes that within their blindness, they can never see?
Walking along the shoreline, of tempered sight, these tempest
Unaware of the approaching waves, poised, to carry them away, forever....
Such are the fruits of their instantiate labors
The reaping, of this their soil blackened harvest!
For a tree does not bare, olive branches with figs
And hypocracy within Heavens sight, has a dire price
For to be hot or cold, is one thing altogether
But to be mired within the middle of a puddle of mud
Is a petal of a different color, of darkened hues
Razor sharp stems, spewing forth their venin
As they spin within the wind....
An image of many faces, these chameleons, of disorders discerned
Straw built houses, sitting upon the fault lines of eternity
Biding their time, while unaware, of the storm of the centuries soon to arrive
Like ivory and ebony, this twisted marble, of its own perverse
Waters, pouring from its fountain, flowing in reverse....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
{Hypocracy!}
That was the day we played all day outside
And ride imaginary stick horses around
Shooting and shouting as if our lungs was rawhide
It was in imagination that the fun abound
That was the day the house seemed in disrepair
Furniture and boxes all out of place
Chaos reigned while mama cleaned everywhere
Leaving germ and dirt without a trace.
I thought of mama today as I watched you clean
Remembered how we would wipe our foot
On the little mat, but mostly could not dare go in
As if we were the grime or the cause of soot
Food would only come when mama took a break
But not before dark and howling belly turned
Play into night, and after the yard was swept and raked
Something about you in mama I'd discerned.
What was all that cleaning just to be clean, I ask
Or was it a search for something missing here
What deeper motive had the highly honored task
What coin, or sheep, or son hid behind the tear
What golden fleece or grail to you both have been lost
I know mama cleaning searched for meaning here
As if sin was something we could see like life's dross
As if to seek was the magic bullet for man's despair.
O something about you remind me of mama, my dear
And childhood comes rushing back in floods
Two sparse rooms and five pieces of furniture there
While we chased butterflies from dying buds
You are different though, for you have allowed us in
Watching our eyes to tell you of missing spots
But we just laugh and tell long tales while you clean
Life is too short to search or go connecting dots.
Love Revisited
He welcomed the somber silence,
and cursed the torpid time that had passed
since his last visit.
Invasive weeds had overrun the place:
Colorful weeds ‘tis true
strange purples, yellows and rusty reds,
scattered here and there
embellishing the lonely place.
He sat on a stone and stared into a void.
Memories rushed into being:
memories long pushed back,
where murky banks held telltale thoughts
he always wished to repress.
How beautiful she was so long ago!
Could he forget that beauty after so many years?
It was not important. He loved her still.
A feeble bunch of forget-me-nots
Would mark the place he saw her last.
Were they enough to convince her soul
that he loved her still? No matter.
She deserved more that a small poesy
of low cost frivolous flowers,
bought on the spur of the moment
as if their offer would alone
atone for his disloyal past.
Is it not strange that after all these years.
he had come to pay his respects?
To remember the good and the bad?
The happiness and the sadness?
The dreams and hopes
and the disappointments
they shared together.
Yet together they made it,
They survived until some years ago
A heart block killed her.
Now she lived in a better place
And he could do nothing but sit alone grieving
and thinking fondly of her.
All around was silence
Except for the dirge of the cicadas song.
In his yearning, he discerned:
sometimes love is not enough.
Each one a universe unmapped
beneath a frail façade of skin,
a globe, where the value hides,
not on the surface, but within.
Sometimes glimpses are discerned
on the face or in the eyes,
glimmers of what is transpiring
beneath the thin disguise:
a marvel of complexity,
surprise and mystery,
a mapping of the future,
an encyclopedic history,
lands to explore and conquer,
genetic fortunes to unwind,
a human vista unique and rare
by God's own hand designed.
To traverse emotion's vast terrain
great is the heart's capacity,
but handle with care the souls you meet;
each has its own fragility.
Copyright, December 9, 2017
Faye Lanham Gibson
oh dear heaven ...
how impeccant
how subtly innocent and eager
are you truly as oblivious as you seem?
oh, I am sure of otherwise
or would there not be so much unsullied skin laid bare -
so few garments that thus adorn the masterpiece?
utter innocence, burning in the motion of your stride ...
a fortuitous feast of flames for the common
the gods themselves feign deference to such fair symmetry
and barter the heavens for but a grace of your shadow
you are pristine virtue, annotated ...
you are torturous fare for the plain and fallow
and envy for even the inimitable
innate sensuality trickles from your feathery brow
to your Lilliputian toes, (painted bubblegum pink)
tracing an unblemished dermal landscape
that any hormone-hewn human would consider a dream destination
you exude a connate allure, inexplicable
enchanting even the stars -
sky weeping in exquisite anguish for sake of your fluid movement
saucy, exposed hips
tossed with coy yet libidinous intent
their immaculate and fluid rhythm
catching in chests like a cardiac event
pulling the breath from lungs around you like taffy
(and not returning without discerned effort)
every gaze in your line swinging in matched tempo
stupefying all within your affect ...
a mass hypnosis inspired by your walk alone
ponytail braid and pink ribbon sway in opposite tempo
adding to the sassy attitude
eyes, pure white arctic spheres
with polished onyx centers
set to possess the soul, should they find your focus
faultless, blue-white smile
framed by sugar plum lips, shaped to perfect bows ...
oh dear heaven
such resplendent rapture should they whisper your name
such divine intoxication should those eyes affix yours
the gods themselves are sobbing ...
the gods themselves.
No sound of a voice could be heard
The sight of the Self quite blurred
As silence into disarray dissolved
And no single truth could be discerned
I need to rise above all that I feel
Reach an inner state of mystic zeal.
*****
A busy bee and a word weaver
Now body feeble and in fever
I could hear the voice of pain
To soothe the aches was in vain
Like a breath caught by the flame
I gasp a fervent prayer and call His name.
*****
The silence, now I broadly see
The pain has been awakening my esprit
Opening my heart to a decryption key
God’s grace and blessings a sea
How wouldn’t I pray and praise?!
As my soul with a granted life rays..
Enter my dream smiling, never pausing to ponder why
Whispering gently to me, exploring the phrases I write
Listening to cadence of heart composing ardent reply
Questions linger unanswered poking pain in teary eye
Answers blunder aimlessly unresponsive to life's plight
Enter my dream smiling, never pausing to ponder why
I'll bring you comfort, discerning sigh, hearing your cry
Witness the rhythm of passion scintillating in my sight
Listening to cadence of heart composing ardent reply
Not easy to share my feelings when love has yet to try
Come prepared to lose yourself wandering in my night
Enter my dream smiling, never pausing to ponder why
Decipher romantic call, reveling in joy, lifting you high
Hold my affection, embracing love, to shed your fright
Listening to cadence of heart composing ardent reply
Having discerned text of minds you have seen the light
Surrender to sensual feelings , snuggling love just right
Enter my dream smiling, never pausing to ponder why
Listening to cadence of heart composing ardent reply
May 29, 2018
Placed first in early January 2019 contest by Brian Strand
looking deep into her face
for minutes at a time
one finger in her hair
more pleasent than the chime
I've long dreamed of her touch
dreams to caress her mind
holding her close to heart
and we'll together bind
so close she is to me
I reach and touch her lip
gently with my finger
though lusting for her hips
and either I should kiss
as either would be bliss
as my hands draw on her
and we end so breathless
I see her hand in mine
I'd know it without sight
warming and soft to feel
I'd hold it all my nights
I wished to delve her mind
I wished to know that girl
let her sorrow be gone
unto me I shall feel
never distort the air
nor show signs of concern
if I hold her to me
little to be discerned
but that's not who I am
to see through rosey shades
be draped in silken cloth
that's not how I was made
I see what could calm me
her sinuous body
lovely before all eyes
teasing me wantonly
see the unloved lover
so wretched to behold
I'll keep my eyes above
yet my heart remains cold
An Oxford Sonnet
We came again to city of spires and dreams
There: were England's aspirations built and carved
In honeyed stone of Jurassic coral seas
Where minds are sculpted, nurtured and preserved
From ancient college, fount of Nation's learning
Beyond oak doors, The High tells tale in stone
The buildings speak eloquence of spirits' yearning
In stately palace and in humble home
In the sun wide eyed emperors gaze in bewildered senescence
By Sheldonian and Clarendon, symbols of human elation
And in night darkened square the Camera's massive presence
Is viscerally discerned as of primal creation
Here we sought to kindle embers and to start
The fires of invention in youthful hearts
Notes
'The High' = The High Street, lined with historic architecture.
The 'emperors' = the series of sculpted heads on pillars that fence The Sheldonian Theatre.
The Clarendon Building = a fine and noble example of English Baroque.
The Radcliffe Camera = Iconic large Rotunda housing a library
Contest entered with NA : Cityscape
11 Jan 2020
I knew I was the sole searcher.
Like a rose dying in the desert.
And all the loneliness she felt.
The piercing pains, oh how they hurt.
I can't turn the clock back, can I?
Wish to be where we were before.
Euphoric bliss of love we built,
Until I lost my head once more.
It was not long ere I discerned,
What a fool I really was
Yet what excuse could I invent?
She knew quite well I was the cause.
She roamed the crowded streets alone
Refusing all the calls I made
Preferred to die in loneliness,
Perhaps it was right that I paid.
I had no real intention
Of letting her go without me,
I climbed the stairs and waited.
An hour meant nothing to me.
She appeared, forlorn, teary-eyed.
Surprised she stood tall and defiant.
On my knees, I begged a pardon.
I loved her, she had to agree.
Untie the binds that bind you
Set yourself a flee
Release the mental anguish
Which you’ve chosen to share with me
Put your faith and trust anew
Make it selfless and continually
For the pain and misery will leave you
And be replaced with endless love, faithfully
Your doubts are as clear, as a bright sunny day
Your wisdom has taught you much
Yet you still feel discerned to give it all away
Take head to all the warnings and what they have to say
Which path shall you take my friend?
And will you relinquish this pretentious lust?
For the time has come for certain
To give in to this taboo called trust
© Stacy Lynn Stiles