Best Drawn Out Poems
Fluttering beneath the newly cut
Festive green hollies,
Decked out with heaped drapes
Of freshly fallen snow,
A bold little red breasted Robin,
Busily searching,
Cheerfully hops to and fro.
Darting between the soft, swirling
flakes
Of unique crystalline, driven without
respite,
He alights upon his sheltered
perch
And begins to shrilly trill:
Against the on coming, long
Drawn out Christmas night.
For the drawing darkness is
deepening,
Whilst the harsh wind blows so chill;
And, gently waking
From nonsensical dreaming,
I harken to the old dog Fox,
As, barking, he pads on down
Through the gorse strewn hill.
Suddenly stirred from dozing
Idleness,
As the charred log shifts and
settles in the grate,
I recall with vivid fondness:
Some old memories, good times,
The well meant promises
I did so earnestly to undertake.
Of old acquaintance...
Not forgotten,
And those that were
Or are no more,
Of circumstance and friendship:
And of they
That daily come
To pass through my open door.
But now the flames from the fire,
Dancing in the frosted window
panes,
Are calling for the poker
So I may stoke the blaze again;
For turning my warming back
Upon the locked out winters keep...
I hear that steadfast little Robin
Sing once more -
As I fall back into uncontested sleep!
A short walk from the road
you are deep in forest.
Tall mountain ash form
pillars that hold up space
and keep a cathedral
of shade within its walls.
High overhead, a canopy
of leaves curtain the sky
in prayerful whispers.
Tree ferns crowd a gully
where fallen giants bridge
a creek carrying a trickle
of mountain tears.
You keep your silence
not wanting to intrude
on another's grief.
Sometimes you can hear
lyrebirds perform their repertoire
of mimic song. One, they say,
can copy the sound
of a chain saw, another,
the long drawn out whine
of a siren as it races
towards a fire.
I am getting tired of the tidal waves
That bring me to shore,
Spit me out and drag me in once more.
I am tired of the crest dropping
And the trough getting deeper,
While the pain in life gets steeper.
I am not always under,
But I haven’t learned to surf the top.
Arriving at the trough and wondering
When the pain is going to just stop.
I am tired of the drama that sets the waves into motion
And I wish that the voices in my head would stop their commotion.
The crest of the waves are moments,
But the troughs are drawn out loud and long,
The crest might spit positive emotion
While the tough brings a tearful drowning song.
A string of white pearls adorned her neckline
accenting that perfect little yellow dress
her silken hazel hair pulled back
showing off a most angelic face
she was glowing
and she couldn't stop smiling
I remember it like it was yesterday
she was so excited
meeting a friend for dinner
a friend that needed a shoulder to cry on
one she hadn't seen in many a long moon.
The clock struck seven and it was time to go
I so remember telling her to have fun
and I'd see her when she got home
She gave me a goodbye kiss and headed out the door
How was I to know?
How could anyone know?
It was a kiss just like hundreds of other kisses
no, not your drawn out passionate kiss
no, not the I love you more than anything kiss
oh how I wish it were
it was a see you soon sweetheart kiss
How was I to know?
How could anyone know?
this would be our last kiss
my last remembrance
the last time I could say I love you
for the restaurant she went to
yes it was that restaurant
the one where all dreams perished
where empty hearts cry
where mothers and sons
fathers and daughters
and dreams all died
On many long, drawn out nights, his routine was to
shuffle aimlessly along dimly lit city streets.
Much of the time, his only companion was a
concealed remnant of cheap bottled wine. He
scavenged for food and money. He would walk
enveloped in deep, weighty shadows and
halo laden street lights. Solitary. Lonely.
Emptiness that few people feel or know.
The raw hollow of an alcoholics tightly
drawn stomach. A gnawing pain that craves
food but will only be quelled when he gets
enough cash for another pint of cheap wine or gin.
Where to spend the night? Maybe with
some of them under the 10th st. bridge.
They may have some money there, or a
blanket to share. Might rummage garbage
containers at the restaurants on the way.
Could walk the parking lot at the grocery store.
There's always change lying on the asphalt.
Could act like he passed out on a city
bench. The police take you to the Detox
Center then. He hated that. Have to stay
72 hours. Guts ache, skin crawls. They
feed you well, but there is always
that craving.
Just keep walking. Frail, vaguely awaren
of hissurroundings as he treks in shadow
andsepia. On 10th, the street lights are so
damned bright they hurt his eyes.
What's that at the bus stop bench
in a brown paper sack?
Two loaves of bread, two wrappers of
bologna, and a luxurious bottle of Gallo
wine tucked in the sack. My God.
Providence at a city bus stop.
Someone boarded the bus and left
their supper. Probably headed for the
homeless shelter overnight.
White bread and meat for one hunger.
Cheap wine for the other.
There might even be some food to share.
Miracle on 10th St.
Drawn-out nights come with
Brief days now the sun sits still
We sit by the fire
Forever lost in space and time,
These stagnant seconds are divine.
With steady hand and shaky mind,
Pursuing something we’ll never find.
Drawn out hours that never cease,
The mental crypt allows no release.
Passing moments as best we can,
Devising yet another ill-thought plan.
Time stands still for those that wait,
Unable to face their looming fate.
Evading restrictions of endless rules;
Brushing shoulders with mindless fools.
Forever lost in space and time,
Those static seconds were divine.
Forever wishing we could rewind:
This is the delusion of our kind.
The museum closed for ever,
and I was there
when they turned off the lights
They were turned off one by one...
At first the boardroom's
where Jacqui cried, I think
then the conference room
where they dismantled
all the plugs
then the rooms on all the floors,
and I could not stand it -
the long drawn-out goodbye
12/25/2015
SONNET FOR WINDS OF CHANGE
Cross cirrus sky swift brush strokes paint mares' tails
Tree tops are in restless susurration,
While cumbrous clouds traverse in vapour trails
Mead grass is fanned in wild undulation
Lake face whipped to agitated motion
Plumes roughed, wildfowl voyage with discretion
Gulls in-land tell of wild storms on ocean
All braced to face nature's bare aggression
When young I chose such rugged medium
Deplored the concept then of perfect peace
Such state suggested endless tedium
Hazard preferred to slow drawn out release
While I now sometimes seek respite from strife
I yet love winds that change, give breath to life
The beauty of lies,
Between your eyes.
The song of drugs
I find in your veins
Is never ending.
The stream replies to a song of redundant tides,
How will I hide all that you have brought to me
In these gifts of disease?
Let’s sing them out in melodies.
The flow is mixed in nicotine, and a pinch of coca
Leaves. A variety of alcoholic drinks you
Gave to me, with a smile that just whines
“Please.” THC and so many leaves, why
Couldn’t you love me?
The hand of a white goddess touches mine. I will
Address all that you have meant in these eyes.
The pain of your subtle lying smile, it
Stings,
Till I cry.
Life is only a jar of ashes,
And ha-ha,
The body as a temple…
Let it burn,
For the lies of Christ
Are dull and pathetic,
I’d rather prefer
My long drawn out,
Season in Hell.
TELL me, dear, everything which occupies you
LAY each piece out, display your soul
SELL me utterly all components, oldest to new
SAY absolute etirety, without any toll
FEEL my hands reaching musty content gently
DRAWN out painlessly, your dark place
REVEAL shame and sins as though incidentally
TORN from humiliation without a trace
BEGIN to trust your ribcage, competent holder
Of HEART, outlandish desires wrapped
WITHIN terror of memory allowed to smoulder
DEPART from a prison, ribcage relaxed
IMMERSED in latitude, stream jumping joyous
FORGIVENESS view gifts expansion
TRAVEVERSED in unison, a vocalised voyage
DELIVERS cognition spun in tandem
BLUEST of blue moons we nurture, accessible
GIVING your mind renews our reward
TRUEST thoughts I massage make it possible
LIVING with wisdom, sharing one orb
13th November 2020
Written for Contest: In Rhymes Sublime
Sponsor: Joseph May
A Game
Chequered
!
Verbose;
Pawned divinity
Words are pieces
Phrases are moves
Players' wordsmiths
Egos crowned kings
Drawn out are words
Empty stands sheath
Reveal your Chess
Strategy-Tactics
Grand master Mikhail Tal speak
On checker board strategies.
"The deep desires
Of a chess player
To lead opponent
Into deep
Forest
Dark
And
The
Path
As Way out
Narrow enough
For only one to fit.
Quintessential paradox
Of battle games with words
Insiders from their prison cages
Re-arrange pieces in endless loop
Noisy minds trapped in eerie silence
Tactics is knowing-
What's done when there’s something to do
Strategist is busy -
In making, in contemplating counter moves
The gamer: the cold calculative mover, brutal
in purpose, moves words, forward and backward
The gamer knows; the words shall be rearranged
Checkered boards of Chaotic; Noisy; Wordy; Game.
The sale
Buy one
Get Two
The-Chessmatic mover
The-Charismatic Baiter
Squarer of self and ego
the believer;the knower
Biting bytes; Now is No
In -A never ending loop
The Self
But One
Not Two
Settled-flow-words when soaked in love
Entrenched-in- compassion all powerful
Wherein in-mated in thoughts and deed
To,
Checkmate the words-as-bait- is tactics
Know,
The web of words is A dense wild forest;
It is A habitat of 'Mind's wild wanderings.
.
The gamer; moves words; fore backward
In another brutal checkered board game;
~
A faithful atmospheric worth of you,
equal in statuesque rainbow possess.
Grace a forest wake to rumored jewel,
long drawn-out winks ethereal blesses.
Favoring flowers blossoming parades,
a living garden hails its ambitions.
Hovers a bee stared yearning serenades,
nigh turnout unequal kinds, auditions.
Ode claims Rainbow Butterfly to whom shares
glory to its signature character,
beliefs prestige for reserving crosshairs.
Incepts moniker beings cofactor,
chicks or the eggs, and who'll take second best?
Rainbow suave sky soars the aliferous.
Anchored in the Aura of your loyalty, the
Breathtaking mood you enhance in me, for I
Cannot fathom the length of your love
Definitely not enveloped in envy but care
Every time that phone rings you race to it
Fervently like a worship, in offerings
Garnished with sacrifices and praises
Hammered by my hypnotic smile you hug
In, triggered by my endangering tear you
Jug ruthlessly into its source, instilling
Kindness and knowledge endlessly
Like a rugged professor, family is not
Mostly drawn out of blood, you have stood
Needlessly in my heart, because the bond
Overcomes every thorn that pierces our soul
Preciously evacuating every dead ash laying
Quietly in my heart, you have genuinely and
Relentlessly proven you are worth a million
Size too enormous to spill, your support
Tenaciously clench my wrist like a pillar of
Unraveling mysteries. You share vital
Visions and make us run with it like thieves.
Wondering amid primrose you glisten like
Xanthopetals, serenading your bloom
Yet unmarred flawlessly in Perihelion, let your
Zestful being be celebrated for being a true friend.
Once great, now feeble, he walks his land,
With quivering scepter in his hand.
Now relentlessly stalked by nature’s fate,
Instinct plays drum to his drawn-out gait.
With nostrils flared he seeks their air,
But horizoned eyes confirm his despair.
He circles n’ circles the sun-bleached bone,
Those stilled remains of those he’d known.
Season after season he has roamed the plain
As nature determines the length of his reign
Now, beside those bones he’ll surrender his crest.
It's come, his turn to for eternal rest
He was the last of his pride that anyone saw.
Now fossilized soil will enshrine his claw.