Best Encroached Poems


Premium Member A Chorus Sang Its Last Concerto

I walked in darkness along the shore
seeking only solitude and nothing more
Thunder drummed from somewhere far away
like foreboding timpani as clouds began to play
They competed with the roar of bally waves
crashing to the beach in rhythmic laves
Everything was out of reach for me
the moon, the stars, the depth of the sea

Echoes of a nocturne were swirling in my head
Lyrics left unsung, but spoken instead
My soprano continued; the falsetto stopped
Too weak to stand, on my knees I dropped
My footprints had been erased by an ebbing tide
No longer able to run. I chose not to hide

Blind in the darkness, my loneliness daunting
a flash of lightning, then another more taunting
I lifted my eyes to the sky, to the falling rain
its sting delivered in a medley, staccatos of pain
On the edge of the sea, I waited for the end of me
My tears an ensemble, an elegy in requiem plea

I ignored the orchestra when I heard the ocean call
louder than kettle drums or the storm's howling squall
No encore would this night be able to reprise
When the flowing tide encroached, I closed weary eyes
A chorus of waves crashed like cymbals in concerto
stealing the baton from the hand of the Maestro

The moon and stars were out of reach for me
I wept as I was swept into the depth of the sea


August 28, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 13 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Zest of a Boy

He toddles toward the pebbles, tumbling the smooth stones over
in his four year old palms, rubbing them like Aladdin’s lamp, tossing
them back into the mix, impishly shining with the zest of a boy.

He sees the overflow of snowy petals, finds the lowest hanging
stem, the gardenia bends to touch his greenhorn nose. Forever
that scent will remind him of grandma’s garden like she remembers

the tubes of trumpet petals in her own grandparents’ backyard. A
twinkle of tremulous joy impacting the fingers of her and her siblings.
The rare treat of parties, the round table laughter, heartfelt antiquity.

The boy explodes from the bottom of the driveway into the steep
mossy front yard, feeling each measured bounce, ne’er a straight 
path to the door, exploring the red and yellow roses, the crumbling

timbers, walking the wall, following scurrying lizards, stepping on
ants, a roving eye for the fearful red, yet no thought of turtle monsters
nor copperheads that have precariously occupied my property,

nor coyotes that have encroached the boundaries. Unboundless energy,
nerve, verve of a courageous man in the making, trampling his feet,
owning the property then oh so gently snapping a stem, handing

his childhood princess a gift, pulling strings of a puppet’s heart,
winding the twine like pulling in a windswept kite, ever learning
nuances of my mind, tucked away to love, rebell and trust.

6/1/19

Total Eclipse of the Sun

TOTAL   ECLIPSE   OF   THE   SUN    
 

We watched horrified, awe-struck for hours while the sun died
Slowly, shorn of long golden locks, suffocated by the oncoming moon-rock.
Samson,   blinded.   His eyes  bitten out  - nothing  left -
Devoured, destroyed :  then  completely   consumed as  he died in silence,
In his Stygian cave, as he gave up the ghost, as he left us alone.

Shadow of moon like a hunter’s pitch cloak  encroached with vulture speed .
Birds, even the skylark, silenced,  harking  in their  stark branches 
For the inky  wings of the angel of death, coming - not to Ramases -  to us.
Bleak mark in the east dark: coming fast - it was upon us even as we asked  
What is it? Grey through miles of mist, then raven-darker, as it closed on us, 
Swooped us into its black veil, sunless, lightless, lifeless - where no bird sings,
And our breath stopped, held, unnoticed: and we, bereft, waited in mourning.

Till the sun -Samson- with re-grown bright hair poured out behind the moon,
Miraculously rose from the dead, pushed the black cave-stone into oblivion
And pierced a hole in the veil,  burning  that hole infinitely, gloriously, 
And we were restored to life in the smile of heaven. 
   
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………


Note:  

A total solar eclipse is an unforgettable sight.  This poem is about  such an 
eclipse which I saw in Weyburn, Saskatchewan  i n 1977. One cannot help 
being struck by the loss of the sun in the daytime. Birds and animals also react 
strangely. I recommend anyone to try to see a total solar eclipse  if it is 
possible. A partial solar eclipse, or a lunar eclipse,  are not remotely as 
spectacular as a  total solar eclipse.


The Dragon and the Rose

Outside of civil man’s well tended garden,
A field of briars willfully encroached,
Threatening the peaceful flowers without pardon.
Oh these gardeners fought hard as the briars approached.

“You don’t belong here, you’re not good enough!”
“You are snarled with iniquity and with thorns.”
“You live a life so very harsh and rough…”
“What good can you bring?” they said with deep seated scorn.

And the briar replied that hot summer day,
“Deep within these unforgiving boughs
Lives a flower who doesn’t have much to say
Except a story concerning what you espouse.”

“You see there lives a dragon scorned just over the way,
Who tossed opportunity and harbingers to the wind,
Because life is glorious and he loves to play…
Carefree and cavalier is how his days were spent.”

“He playfully trampled gardens carefully tended,
By pious gardeners without wings who would never fly,
Until he happened upon a flower wonderfully scented,
Crimson in color, the flower reflected beauty in his eye,”

“Eagerly he reached forward to make it his own,
But this glorious flower was protected by thorns,
And gave the dragon a prick to change his tone,
And it was in that prick that true love was born.”

“Now the dragon is older and has spent his days,
Watching over this rose, the love of his life,
Learning about beauty and awe inspiring ways.
His world now protected by thorn and briar.”

“He has discovered great beauty and learned much,
And no longer does the dragon destroy with fire.”
“But should you gardeners even dare to touch
A single branch or bough in this tangled briar…”

“You will face both the Dragon and the Rose,
Who with great love now protect each other,
From pious gardeners who would have them go,
Because neither can be kept on a tether.”

“So snip your lilies and pluck your weeds,
Make your lives as perfect as they can be,
For in this harsh briar we continue to watch love grow,
That of a magnificent Dragon and the beautiful Rose.”

Lovers Moon

When blue sky has drawn its veil
That's when passions will prevail
Within the dark of nights closed eyes
Entangled lovers sweat and writhe

A fervent lust. A human need.
A chance to plant the given seed
It starts with just a gentle touch
As light recedes the sky at dusk

Then when the moon and stars arise
A hand is moved from breast to thighs
The roundness of the orb at night
Calls for lovers to delight

Engage in love. Engage in sin
Engage in feelings from within
A chance to touch another soul
Is what brings humans to their whole

Feel the softness of the skin
Two lips pressed against the chin
A moan escapes. A breath is drawn
As nipple is encroached upon

Grasping flesh and tasting love
The constellations stir above
Unclothed bodies in the night
Begin to consummate their plight

A presentation then is made
And well accepted, unafraid
The movement satiates the lust
As joy is drawn from every thrust

Fingers grasp and arms embrace
Contortions dominate the face
Muscles spasm, spASM, SPASM
Oh the joy of such ******

Now there's nothing but a bright
Ever glowing, loving light
Embracing them within that glow
As lovers movements start to slow

Electric feelings then subside
Like ending to a coaster ride
And as the dawn begins to creep
It chases lovers to their sleep
Leaving them to relish in
The echoed sound of pleasures din



Rockman  :-)


If you enjoyed this one, also read "Sweet Love".

Cancer

Hold back the hour.
Stop the tears from flowing.
Breathe again untainted air.
Take back my bones, my breasts,
and race forward to passion once more

Hold back the hour,
before the ravaging of every sinew
and fleeting glimpse of salvation, and
forced pity encroached upon my earth

Hold back the hour,
before tested strength
proves weakened failure
and commitment runs a ragged road

Before privacy alludes
and birds no longer sing for me,
or the pinch of reality is drugged 
away before the fluttering of breath 

Now bring back the hour
let the tears flow
I’m ready


Premium Member Where the Antelope (Used To) Play

Where the antelope used to play is now shopping malls and plats.
Man in his insatiable greed has encroached upon its ancient habitats.
Not so very long ago on the plains just a few miles out of town,
Were herds of these graceful creatures that now have dwindled down.

Also, pushed from the verdant plains are the mighty buffalo,
That grazed upon the lush, green grasses not so very long ago.
Upon these sacred grazing grounds are now concrete parking lots,
And densely cluttered cookie-cutter houses on quarter-acre plots.

Where have all the magnificent wild turkeys gone,
That used to preen and strut about at the break of dawn?
Even the lowly prairie dogs, their burrows they've had to flee,
To accommodate covetous developers who've gone on a building spree.

Of the wily fox and skulking coyote, there are fewer to be seen.
They were forced from their hunting grounds and have fled the scene.
Desperate flocks of grouse and pheasant have also taken flight,
To raise their young elsewhere, escaping mans' spreading blight.

Deer and elk that once peered shyly from almost every copse;
Their environs now occupied and overrun with tacky shops.
'Twould be novel if man would recall that these creatures were here first,
And consider them when pursuing their unquenchable expansion thirst!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)

Werewolves

Starving amber eyes that drink oasis scraps 
  Thrown from her cast off demeanour to fall 
Upon the bare heart scape which formats and maps 
  The course of true love, or of nothing at all. 
I am monkshood drawn, snared willingly onward, 
  No gaining of ground only losing of grip, 
In a faithful disruption clawed inward and outward 
  For a smile or rebuke in the curl of her lip. 
In keeping the secret and living with heartbreak, 
  Devoured by werewolves invisibly barking, 
The madness and sadness, wolfs bane and earthquake, 
  Life wished away and time made for marking. 
Some days it feels like a carnival dying, 
  With darkness encroached of a consummate skill; 
Then others it lessens, the whole world goes flying, 
  She may want me again, and I plead that she will.
© Tony Bush  Create an image from this poem.

October 2018 Besieged By Fruit Flies

Poet of Perkiomen Valley
discovered aforementioned titled poem
about thirty months ago he wrote
impossible mission critters to smote
chronic issue yours truly does note
years later meaning today
April 19th, 2022
necessitated we allow, enable

and provide welcome to exterminator
actually management did hote
(obsolete) To command; to enjoin
hazard upon body, mind and spirit,
thus ridding apartment b44
visited by said swarming insects,
his expertise sought to mitigate
courtesy applying insecticide.

Insects created dark shadows
analogous brought outer limits
of twilight zone
resembling edge of night
in truth our one bedroom apartment
at that earlier date
affected, encroached, and outsmarted
by massive infestation of
Drosophila melanogaster light
weight winged worst
pests to eradicate
(scientific name regarding
winged flitting nuisance ignite
mentioned in title) besieged,
inundated, and thickly swarm.

dost primp and pretty
fie themselves (to
attract a witty
mate) during their
40 to 50 days city,
or suburban life
cycle long enough
to qualify for this

quickly written ditty
seemingly overnight
a bajillion biz zee
buzzing adults (each
about 1/8 inch long see
their world wide web,
thru at least one
unusual red eye,

which compound eye
of the fruit fly
contains 760 unit
eyes or ommatidia, well nigh
hapt tubby one of the most
advanced among insects,
where Google search

for home remedies aye
didst find to exterminate
these teeny weeny pests,
plus informational pursuit my
instantaneous curiosity yielded
above mentioned
esoteric tidbits,
sans accidentally disc

covered helpful good riddance
material of household ingredients
restraining me to breathe sigh
of dollop, and hope to try
one or more solutions,
which informed
this amateur entomologist -
listed forthright as:

1. Create a trap by mixing
apple cider vinegar
with a few drops of dish soap.
2. Another homemade trap is to
pour leftover red wine into a jar.
3. Mash up banana slices in a jar, and
cover top with a plastic wrap.
4. Pour bleach solution
into bathroom sink.
5. Detonate atomic explosives
as a last resort.

Premium Member BELLS

Sleep lifted its gossamer veil from my eyes this morn
before dawn's roseate beams of light had been born.
Silence reigned as the world around me still slept.
I watched a cat in the garden as it stealthily crept.
Towards prey it encroached, on a songbird trilling.
To let nature take its course today, I was not willing.

I opened the window to chase the stalking feline away,
and heard the distant chiming of bells holding sway.
Sunlight peered through clouds with a glow of inflection,
and the songbirds I'd saved, sang a melody of perfection.
"Ring, bells of hope." I whispered as night was breached.
"Ring out to empty hearts that faith has never reached."

If only the sonorous sounds of the bells could be heard,
would mankind accept the truth of God's written word?
Would the warring of nations then come to and ending,
and peace among races of men never again need mending?
I listened and prayed for all men to join in a brotherhood.
"Ring aloud so all may feel the need for love as they should."

Blaring horns and loud voices intruded upon my tranquility. 
I closed the window from the world's clamorous hostility.
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Fulfilment

Eyes glued to the sky
Thumb finger tumbling
Tears cascading from above
Heart filled with grieve and grieve
Encroached of the unknown 
Future punctured with uncertainties
Realities gnashed at me
The night settled on my thought
The morning is aging
It is time to go home
Which home?
Where is the fulfillment in these drifts of life?
Must i go home unfulfilled?
O, is this the end of my enterprise in the human cosmos?

Survival-of-the-little

Stung with the absence of his father, he excruciatingly rumbled deep inside of his mother’s womb. 
He stormed out already filled with disappointing void. 
The mother’s joy was of uncertainty. 
Memories of her husband, flashed back right in her face once again. 
She could feel the exhaustion of a lifetime encircled around her and the weight and magnanimity of raising the beautiful baby on her own. 
Two years creeped by and the bond between them was legendary. 
The love was so constant and consistent, like the sun will rise. 
Their friendship thrived through the encroached stormy desert. 
Her wings unfolded like an angel, extraordinarily patient as a lion hunting. 
The fondness between them was as phenomenal as THE SERPENT GOD at chichen Itza, that he was unceremoniously detached from her. 
A devastation of a 4-5 year old separation to a foreign land, felt like an erupted-never-ending-volcanic-nightmare. 
The purpose of that crushing disconnection, was feeble. 
he was starved off of food, shelter and raiment. 
Apportioned milk from animals became the only privilege given. 
The purest and cleanest form of consumed water, was of a residual of donkeys streamed through the shin of an old dirty black slave man. 
An occasional feasting on birds, caught through invented-trapping. 
With innocence, he’ll apathetically rip the head, feathers of the little creatures with bare hands, bury them in the sand of the mountain top desert, hours later, it’s BEANO. 
He was deprived of even just a glimpse of his family for all those years, he wimped in loneliness. 
And on a dark frightful night, came the growl of the famous fox, but he survived. 
Life is fickle and comes without no warning and can’t be anticipated. 
Survival can not be measured by *echoes* of preventions, it is destined and destiny is not always a gift. 
The tale unfolds in hardship, a narrative woven through the threads of resilience and survival. The bond between mother and child, tested by separation, echoes the unpredictable journey of life—a journey marked by both strength and vulnerability.

Premium Member Storm

We cannot tame a raging storm, so with patience, 
we must wait for the calm.          ~ by poet


The balmy afternoon had been fulgent and warm
Until darkness foreshadowed an approaching storm
Wailing winds of the nor'easter would soon cause grief
damaging fragile coral growth upon the reef

Leaden clouds encroached and shrouded the gloomy day
The aura changed from gold to hue of graphite gray
It seemed as if an eclipse turned day into night
as feathered wings rose in unison to take flight

Thunder's billowed breath blew across the ocean's waves
as if the tempest was demanding what it craves
Atmosphere grew heavy with each powerful roar
White caps rushed with clangor against the sandy shore

With vengeance, the storm hurled jagged lightening strikes
Split second flashes that resembled silver spikes

 * * * 

Then, the deluge rained like arrows, sharp as metal
That would've wounded men like a stinging nettle
The monsoon swept overland, clear across the dunes
on zephyr winds that howled diabolical tunes

The storm seethed with a furor that was unsuppressed
leaving the seaside landscape despoiled and distressed
Battered by ferocious weather that was to blame
Nature's forces can be impossible to tame

Finally, squalls dwindled and waves no longer surged
Glowing rays of sunlight defiantly emerged
And so the storm came with raging temper to vent,
pillaged treasures from the sea. Yes, it came and went

It was quite a balmy evening, fulgent and warm
Upon the beach seashells lie, displaced by the storm
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Fireball

a yearning of alabaster guilt given birth
from this mouth of words mesmerising
like rings of Saturn, behold encroached
by your retort, cutting if not comic, life
adjacent to corners of some death, you
lit fires with a tongue and let them burn
reeling in oceans, as salamander heads
lined exotic craters of timely eruptions
yet honey melts heaven in a single kiss

Premium Member Evil Basks

It’s a dimly lit, darkly entombed spot
Here sits a lone black weeping willow tree
Night encroached leaving nothing you can see
Its cold, nothing about this place is hot
Not a ray of light surrounds to get caught
Evil basks within the nooks quite empty
She sits, there on a stump she sits flatly
Devoid of emotion, hope isn’t brought

Expressionless she stands with great power
The tree bows right to her beck and call
She stands mighty and tall like a tower
Grove seems to be protected by a wall
All who happen to see her would cower
All she sees is hate, her soul crushes all

 * Left over Halloween poem, I forgot to post this, enjoy!

Russell Sivey

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