Best Distills Poems
In a mire brewed
betwixt puddles of hell and mute dissent
a martyr wades -
weighed down by chains of shame and disdain
alas the thirsting self-absorbed swamp
distills and swills her stewed silence
and swallows the last embers
from her goblet of dreamer’s fire
pursed breaths are pickpocketed by the shallows
in a breathless vertical twist
an escapist is lost in the swirl of a chambered nautilus
distanced and deserted in the dance of descent
stillness belies the waterline’s greed
as a heroine’s salvage is suffocated -
the slick of self-appointed apathy anoints the surface
and a disquieted wind rises to bend the will of reeds
their flutes airing plainsong in forced supplication
yet carelessly cast away like spindrift from broken crests
while storm clouds blindfold wide-eyed skies
stifling any play of sun on water
Susan Ashley
May 1, 2020
~ Third Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 1
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ Fourth Place ~
Premiere Contest: Spiral
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
Someday I'd like to wander free
like butterfly, like bumblebee,
perhaps to plant a willow tree
beside the silent solemn sea,
before these things exist no more,
from mountain top to shifting shore,
when, soon, bald eagles cease to soar
and build their aeries nevermore,
and fish forsake polluted streams
(where sulfur swims and typhoid teems
since no one really cares it seems)
to die inside our toxic dreams
while ice caps melt and winter steams,
and all the air surrounding reeks
as children choke, for no one speaks
of fracking wells or oily leaks
(Big Brother's silenced all critiques!),
and rancid rains acidify
so woods no longer multiply
(for God so wills, we can't deny,
which is, of course, our alibi).
And as the deepest ocean fills
with plastic bags, and garbage spills
upon the plains, across the hills
and turns to poison dust that kills
wild dingo dogs and daffodils
which sink in swamps’ forsaken swills,
the mocking bird makes light and trills
(midst waning wails of whippoorwills)
"Behold the surreal scene that chills
and greet the dread that death distills!
You've had your day with all the frills
that brought the flood and final ills
that can't be cured with bitter pills
nor yet undone with further thrills
of profit gained that grinds and fills
dead desert sands with dollar bills."
EPILOGUE
Though swaddled still in infancy,
we feel we’ve reached our primacy
(aloof, though preaching piously,
disdaining deeds of decency)
and have no need of augury.
But in the pit of prophecy
the crucial questions seem to be:
“Is doom Earth’s fate, our destiny
to twist in tides of agony
destroying nature’s progeny
with no return a certainty
assured by death’s finality?”
and
”Should we plant a willow tree
to someday weep for you and me?”
Manipulate the wordolator
spin it swirl it make it cater
to your whims and what you wanted
your no dreamer, you are haunted
you can't stop the rhyme you started
tell the truth you're broken hearted
send that through the wordolator
it comes out 10 seconds later
dressed in diamonds and confetti
right on course and feeling steady
pour life in the wordolator
add some spices, check it later
smooth and silky is the taste
don't let feelings go to waste
turn them into something greater
send them through the wordolator
Have you suffered past and present?
Is xistence so unpleasant?
Mold it, form it, paint it red
have it say what must be said
tears and joy and life and death
every daring, dancing breath
breathed by soldiers, kings and waiters
breathe them through the wordolator
it distills the very essence
of the living luminescence
that unites our human feeling
deep emotions send us reeling
Taker, giver, lover, hater , all
can use the wordolator. Just a dollar now on line
Money back if it's not fine.
Buy it now and Pay us later
you will love the wordolator
For them.
To her the word love refers to a boy.
Something she yearns for and misses dearly.
The day they met was cold and fraught with January chill.
“Oh, that does seem so long ago.”
That is the untarnished memory she replays over and over again when events in her life go array.
Back then it was tangible and real, their lives together had not been succumb to so much misery and woe.
They have triumphed, failed, and even caused each other more pain than can be imagined; But through it all they always walked the path together, holding each others hand.
She loves him unconditionally and for that some people cant understand but love needs no excuses, certainly not for them.
She adores him for working so hard, slaving to the man trying to base a future and a plan for them, but she feels guilty that their small American dream over the years has always led down a dead end.
With today’s hard times she knows they are not to blame, but still her idol hands carry burden with them.
A plot of land, a small farm, and a home to call their own so they may grow old.
that’s all the pair desire.
He loves her to, a thought that at times is unfathomable.
He admires her dreams, even if they are bigger than the world and never distills fear in her that they wont one day come true. She thinks ill rationally and believes in things as a child would, but this merely makes him smile at her spontaneous outlook.
To him she is like a wild bee, searching ferociously for something.
At times he doesn’t think she will ever find it, that’s why its so hard to see her cry.
Life hasn’t been fair for them.
It’s a tragic book that just keeps reading on.
But they muscle through living on their dream and knowing that as long as they have each other, everything will be alright.
And as they drive home to their house with no walls, catching glimpses of each other in their ratty car they don’t feel so alone.
Behind those blue eyes, she will be forever nineteen to him and to her, as she gazes into his brown large pupils; the boy she knows has grown into a man and at that moment they know, one day all the sacrifices they have made will pay off.
The bitterness brims and bubbles away
As the heart that once felt love over-spills.
Leaving only burnt ashes left to stay
Betrayal hurts more, as vengeance distills.
As the heart that once felt love over-spills
Venomous asps bite down on softest flesh.
Betrayal hurts more, as vengeance distills
The surface punctures are now simply etched.
Venomous asps bite down on softest flesh
Deception manifests into such hate.
The surface punctures are now simply etched
Veins filled with poison, it's maybe too late.
Deception manifests into such hate
No antidote, only suffering pride.
Veins filled with poison, it maybe too late
Fighting the toxin that's built up inside.
No antidote, only suffering pride
Water disperses as, bloods thickening.
Fighting the toxin that's built up inside
So lay down and die, or wake up and win.
Water disperses as, bloods thickening
Leaving only burnt ashes left to stay.
Don’t lay down and die, just wake up and win
As bitterness brims and bubbles away.
Life as a River of Poems
As the poems flow in thousands, you realize
that you have created very little in the grand tapestry of existence.
Everything distills into rain, sunlight,
the relentless pulse of traffic, the endless cycle of nights and days,
the countless faces that fade into the fabric of years.
Leaving this world will be easier than living in it,
while I type another line, a man plays the piano through the radio waves,
the greatest writers have whispered profound truths in few words,
while the worst have drowned in an ocean of verbosity.
I lose myself in the flow of thoughts, a mystical labyrinth of consciousness,
where each poem is a raindrop,
fallen on the canvas of an ephemeral world.
My poems, like rivers, flow through the valleys of time,
capturing sunlight and the shadows of night,
shaping the fleeting faces of days and years.
I now understand that creation is an art of simplicity,
a line written in a silent night,
while a piano plays in the background of a restless life.
The greatest truths are often hidden in silence,
while empty words can fill endless pages.
I let myself be carried by this river of poems,
seeking the essence in each verse,
knowing that true greatness lies in the power of unspoken words,
in the silent magic of existence,
in the simple beauty of rain and sunlight,
in the quiet between heartbeats,
and in the melancholy of endless nights.
sole am i
meat locker are we
apeiron births god
pith distills self
self distills pith
god births apeiron
we are locker meat
i am sole
already dead am i
nihil gestates genesis
corpse digests worm
bone ensouls flesh
flesh ensouls bone
worm digests corpse
genesis gestates nihil
i am dead already
damned am i
yesterday flays tomorrow
flesh exuvial are we
pitiless is time
time is pitiless
we are exuvial flesh
tomorrow flays yesterday
i am damned
alone am i
nothing begets thought
clay invents god
dust unbegotten are we
we are unbegotten dust
god invents clay
thought begets nothing
i am alone
nihil kills nihil
Nihil Kills
Expelling a sigh
the scent of your breath distills
a vapor of love
Oh Sweet Island! Thou tropical paradise:
Miles have I traced upon thy ceaseless reach
Of ocean-choked shorelines owed Heav’nly device
Sheltering I, this marooned guest on thine endless beach.
Safe House against left alone misery;
Whereby, alongside thine evergreen canopies full
Darwinian mysteries perched high atop their home,
Do I maintain nourished in flesh ‘n faculty
And keep this wit sharpened when blunted dull
Should become elements awash reduced but to roam;
Added all, all for sake of thine increased covenance,
That keener my eyes and keener my tongue
When my throat succumbs thine euphoric abundance;
Pink spilled over warmth -
Else-wise myself, by self, selfishly by now would’ve hung;
For if not for that which is thy sun (may thy sun also hear praise)
My sight might yet be withheld those rare flockish friends
Who keep in time the shared sweetness of functioning words;
Therefore to thee, and to they of thee, whom of wing’ed realm I appraise
As reason unsought are frenzied neurotic ends;
True thanks directed thee and thy mystic splendors; thy talking birds.
Alas, sadly, not even thou distills lunar ascensions
By which subside hopeful rays in thy sobering night;
Nor be those which aviate above as homing pigeons
With beaks to carry silent pleas where may come ends to my plight.
Thus, this I ask thee; What good is time spent when time’s spent alone?
Yes, thou provides: plentiful shelter, plentiful warmth, plentiful food
As well as fiery fuel to fend off critters of strife –
But, this be thy kingdom, not mine. Here, I sit on a remembered throne
Where days threaten months threatened by years in which strangers brood –
Oh, Sweet Warden; Relinquish me! I beg thee on behalf of slipping sanity;
Let this rambling sentence end
So I, once again, may stand by my daughter and wife.
1/28/2017
Submitted for: Tropical Island
to feel the peace
that will come
in time
as life
settles down
from it's mad pace
when reason
distills
into wisdom
those sleepless nights
with fears
unfounded
for courage
is what will bring
the days
in life
when you can say
I'm happy
My mind distills away.
Scraps from the underworld.
Of education, tradition and media ****.
I'm tired of caring.
Sick of hearing, if I could.
Control my ears closed.
Block them from ******** talk.
Chain my eyes off the road.
The road is blind,
It twirls in murky worm fences.
I can't trust it. I don't know it's source.
I need to run from it.
The deep valleys eroded.
Brick red flooring, it's Ibadan.
Wobbling houses like sinking boats.
Like the school, the earth is.
Mixed with fire and water.
Bisexual topics, racial terms.
It hurts people, Education does.
Other opinions.
T-rays reveal ancient scripts.
Kept secret from us.
To lull in the sinking boat.
Like torpid trees.
Staring and observing.
The mystics become religion.
Which in turn, morphology of tradition.
A culture brings unity.
Under the slavery of memories heard.
To bare the burden of language.
A barrier, a paranoid ant.
To consume doubt.
Embrace the stories, devour the myths.
As the river cascades
From Himalayas breast
With all its puissance
And rage, it distills out
Along its way, the grail
Of love, service and faith.
It finds the fondness
That grows, in tandem
With the stretching course
Brimmed with beauty, it
Flows till infinite.
Tunes emanate
At each sojourn
Of cadenced waves
Those quench the earth.
It imparts
On mankind
Life itself
Like a
Caring
Mom
Poet: Prashant Shaurya ©
All rights reserved.
Castle of Dreams
Lutes and violins
Gothic dreams, pleasures of sin
Recited poetry
In my chamber of fire
Wine distills lulled memories
She evaporates
Into my mind
“Beautiful young people are accidents of nature;
but beautiful old people are works of art.” - Eleanor Roosevelt
Experience soaks in
And mixes with
Internal chemistry
The personality distills
And slowly seeps to the surface
With age
I see youth -
Beautiful at a glance
Then I look into the eyes
And see the alchemy there
The sneer; the fear
Secretly buried in the soul;
Private joy and compassion
Cannot hide behind the eyes for long
As Time erodes the body
So does Time
Uncover one’s truth
CHEERY 1
Moon beams sparkle
Shadows contrast;
Mid-autumn light
~~~~~~~~~
Bamboo leaves
Windy rustle here;
Evening conspires
~~~~~~~~~
A fruit feast
Just for two;
Simple delight
~~~~~~~~~
Brown leaves litter
Pathway winding;
Discarded memories
~~~~~~~~~
Lovely windfall
Dream upon dream;
Happy movements
~~~~~~~~~
Grassy contours
Edgy inputs;
Stray cat prowls
~~~~~~~~~
Noisy cicadas
Late night serenade;
Sleepy lullaby
~~~~~~~~~
Uneasy music
Jazzy pop and rap;
Confusion distills
~~~~~~~~~
Casual self-talk
Mostly negative stuff;
Instal new program
~~~~~~~~~
Two old friends meet
Strangers now;
Polite interlude
~~~~~~~~~
See how the years
Have passed on;
Over the rainbow
~~~~~~~~~
Small talk
Bits and pieces;
Patchy conversations
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
22 September 2015
Singapore