Best Encroachment Poems
~ Yolanda was--her name ~ Featuring:) Leonora Galinta
From a hell storm,
A mighty she-devil took on its form
Like a woman scorn ascending from the sea
Haiyan whipped across the central Philippines,
A deadly typhoon, maximum winds of around 315
Terrorizing the fragile mind before making landfall
Hitting with the center eye off from her hostility
A merciless turbulence that came and changed everything
Like a Massive Storm
She comes in as the wise thief of the day and night,
In her notorious gust of rage roars in disguise of thunder,
With the company of her own knight of darkness,
Raze all in a blast of waves wherever her path crosses,
Ruining one of the cities down to a devastation in the land
“Pearl of the Orient Seas.”
A mighty tempest in a woman’s name…. Yet,
A disgrace with more than an immortal man in strength,
Nature devouring nature itself
Including her stewards and stewardesses
An unmerciful encroachment, robbing, killing adults and children.
Yolanda, so cruel in her evil walloping!
A guest left smiling,
Engraving echoes of tears, from every single mourn
Vain, wicked, and colorless -no other air’s compare
The lives she stole, one heart at a time
Pouring down the most nauseating rain,
The pain is dissenting with everyone-- everywhere.
The bully of wind, invading sands of serenity
Unknowingly, far beyond your back----------------------------
Everybody will be summoning up more than your strength-
:)
Drive mindfully, dear children, as you traverse hurdled highways of life,
Cognizant that adjacent to an oasis of joy, lies a desert brooding strife;
Assume charge of your chosen path, obey rules of road as you ride,
Pursuing life’s aspirations you vie, with compass of mind as your guide.
Beware things luring you with glitter, may be just metal, feigning gold,
Love superficial, love that is shallow, never the love for you to behold;
Don’t let a mirage~ a spurious illusion~ become an aspiration of hope,
Life, a vast ocean, as it ebbs and flows, learn to navigate, strive to cope.
As shrouds and clouds obscure life, seek enlightenment to wear a smile,
Defy encroachment of grimace, defy the vibes that cramp your style;
Embrace blissed domain of empathy, proffering missives angelic, kind,
Yield to others, who are lost, show them the egress destiny designed.
Build your abode on pillars of morals, revering honesty, and trust,
For they are the hallmarks of people, respectable, equitable, just;
Mind your paradigms and proverbs, practice always what you say,
Extend genuine gestures of regret, when actions have gone astray.
Be grateful for family and friends, honor them in prayers of heart,
Create keepsake albums of memories, life-scapes endearing impart;
For they are the priceless treasures of love, omnipresent lifelong,
Inspiring, nurturing you, reassuring all along~ love can do no wrong.
shun the encroachment of the dark
focus intently at the task at hand
blinded to peripheral vision
wriggle free of your silhouette
present beyond the corner
circles encompass
captured by crescents
spinning in their circular hold
neither freedom nor imprisonment will ride
reality is just the ache of the dream
the muddled yell & yawn
every emotion a mere numbing agent
sometimes, I think I peeled away the relief
but the block forms are pattern upon pattern
and I'm a diminishing darkness
at the approach of dusk.
Rarest of beauty is she the ice fawn,
Grazing within the ice meadows in crystal
Fields of frozen cloves, as the star lights
Flicker in brilliance shinning, all about her.
A shy creature of gentleness, made of ice
And snow, unique amongst the polarized canvas,
Alone in perfections glittering diamond dust,
Of winter’s mystical enchantments.
Drinking from the pools of the moon,
Warmed by the twinkling shades of the rays,
Casted in the Aurora Borealis of the northern
Pastures, beyond mankind’s encroachment.
Creations gathering of angel tears shed
In tender moments of truest grace, was
She this miracle thus was so made,
The ice fawn.
Chamber lights living Kalightoscope, a prism of
Dear shine, walking in splendors white ice.
A mystical being of opulence’s elegance, splashed
By the divine plate array, and brushed by the wings
Of the ethereal angelic.
A sparkling gem, a jewel of winter, with the
Soft brown eyes of clarity, behold the ice fawn
In all her glittering glory, walking in freedoms
Sacred Valley of the human imagination.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
When i died, hush bequeathed the Scrabble Board
The once weighty tomes floated off cramped shelves
Whilst married letters argued midst themselves
Phonics quivered sans the vowel adored
O' warm vowel with the prominent dot
Disarrayed lost words bowed their heads and cried
On that sonant solemn day when i died
Shrouding the dot with a forget-me-not
Ill-fated, O' How could i bear such strain
Replaced without heart in a scrabble game
From die to dye, opponents scored higher
Of y's bold encroachment on i's domain
And when i died in Craig, one must exclaim
Replaced by a y, does it create Ire?
Date: 11/04/23
I died poetry contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Cold winds, the assassins of startled vegetation,
blow in with late autumn. Snow arrives
to cover the terrain with blankets
of white, pristine feathery snow; meanwhile,
some bodies of water turn into ice.
As the sun hangs low in vales of shadows,
December silently creeps in.
Skunks, raccoons, squirrels and other small mammals
also have crept in silence . . .
to hide inside secluded spaces against the cold’s encroachment.
Their breathing, heart rate, and metabolism slow down.
Waking periodically from their torpor,
they feed and then go back to sleep.
As cold-blooded as the enveloping snow,
snakes slither instinctively into crevices of rocks
as turtles and frogs burrow into mud.
Bears, having feasted in the fall,
now hide in their dens in a state of deep slumber.
How silent and tranquil is the realm of nature’s creatures
hidden from the prying eyes of us humans.
Some of us become almost as sluggish as the animals
squirreled away in their nests of twigs and leaves.
We feast like the pre-hibernating bears.
In a festive mood or perhaps feeling sadly forlorn,
we are more likely than in any of the other seasons
to hide away inside our own abodes,
especially when soft pearls twirl from twilight’s sky
and winter lays down a thick quilt of snow
beneath a canopy of sparkling stars.
We waken, at times like this, to our world abloom with snow,
grumbling at times about having to shovel our driveways
or to travel on roads slick with ice or snow.
Like the hibernating bear, I prefer in winter
the tranquility of comfortable slumber.
Nights in winter stay dark longer.
Our heart rate, breathing, and blood pressure drop low
as drifting into the deep of dreamy sleep we go.
Ah, winter, let me sleep in your quietude
as though I were being buried in the wondrous snow
of your slumber land.
Before the ink, the silence was a throat
too wide for breath, a hollow-hoarding room
where syntax slept in dust, a formless mote.
Then came the stroke—the necessary doom—
that etched the first shaky consonant of home.
We named the light, and naming made it fear,
a brilliant terror cracking in the air:
And in that sound, the echo was a tear.
The lexicon is porous. It accepts
the slow encroachment of the sudden “gone.”
I’ve seen the tense shift while the subject slept,
the “is” dissolved before the “is” was done.
I hear your laughter, a broken, brittle run,
a syntax in the doorway of the mind
that leaves the quiet, comfortable behind,
a shape I cannot hold, but seek to find.
I have attempted to define your hand—
its knuckles, a syntax of necessary stone—
but language is a shifting, sliding sand,
it takes the shape of all that I have known
and breaks it down, a solitary moan.
I know the definition of the wait:
a vowel stretched until it cracks with weight,
a verb that acts too often and too late.
If I could pull the vowels from the air
and rearrange the grammar of our loss,
I’d make a structure sturdy, stable, fair,
a monument that does not pay the cost
of every single, sudden, final frost.
But every word is stolen from a sigh,
a breath that knows it only needs to die,
a sky that mimics emptiness to fly.
The inevitability is, in turn,
a pivot where the poem starts to break.
I feel the syntax of the darkness burn,
the structure of the longing that I take,
the shape of every mistake that I make.
I find myself within the space
between the first and final, fast embrace,
a memory I cannot quite retrace.
So let the lexicon be what it is:
a porous thing that lets the silence in.
I trace the syntax of the final kiss,
and find the ending in the way I spin
a language from the skin, and from the sin.
The tide returns, the lexicon is wet—
The words are drowning in the sharp regret—
And I am learning, slowly, to forget.
Forget the sound, the shape, the solid hand,
and keep the empty, loud, and lovely air.
I understand the way the broken sand
creates a new topography to share,
a syntax in the middle of despair.
The ocean does not need a name to be.
It is the final, endless, opening plea,
a memory that only lives in me.
Nine Eleven—a dark day lives of many workers were stolen away
Individuals worked all night; stayed; without seeing the light of day
Nose to the grindstone below floor level they labored productively
Effectively moving papers, stacks, racks, speedily and so selectively
Encouraged basement overtime; more taxes paid; they worked away
Loyal workers; dedicated to the cause; laziness to them—not a gift!
Earnestly they called home to say, “Honey I am working another shift”
Encouraged by those who stayed; coffee and donuts— no need to pay
Encroachment above they never did see as terror stuck during the day
Night’s darkness envelope the light; underground darkness of the night
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
© Joseph Spence, Sr., 8/27/09
© All Rights Reserved
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
Six to eight African nations
count on the powerful Zambezi.
Rightly called their river of life -
its wilderness lets wildlife roam free.
Batoka Gorge attracts tourists as
Victoria Falls' wet smoke thunders.
Two dams provide hydroelectric pow'r
but many in south Africa wonder -
What "dam"age would another one bring?
Does an ecosystem have a right to
freedom from economic encroachment?
Think what a Zambezi Seaway might do?
started February 27, 2017, revised April 3, 2017
with rhyme and new focus.
Light bubbles of painted canvas, dancing amongst the softness
Of heavenly space amidst the skies above, wind walkers captured
In a timeless waltz of everlasting eloquence and grace!
Swift air lanterns, set drifting, uplifting the mortal spiritual soul
Of the beguiling eyes of those enlighten, whom watch in sheer
Awes amazement, at the beauty of these gliding giants, in the
Distant horizons blazing sunset!
Currents breeze chasers, swaying to and forth on the delicate
Fridge of the starry night’s encroachment, oh brilliant weavers
Of this dreaming quilt of opulence majestic, I’m lost within your
Fabrics motion, as waves of air flutter ever so lightly, in the rippling
Effect of thy flight!
Floating elemental orbs, steamily bouncing between the heavens
And the earth, chariots heat balloons elevating the inspirational
Heights of mankind, exposing the grandeur of our magnificent
World that surrounding us all, in natural beauties ultimate
Masterpiece beyond our mortal existence!
Splendor’s optical window of the open air experience,
Lifting the physical being on the wings of imagination,
Casting away the shackles of the land, and releasing
The inner dreamer, welcoming them to join within their sacred
Dance amongst these vast divides of Nirvana!
Free falling angels, cradled within this timeless basket of inspiration,
Gently are thee to be rocked by the very breathe of God himself,
For you’ve entered into the kingdom of the heights most majestic,
Be still now, and just listen to the whispering of the angelic,
As your heart beholds the wonder beneath gravity’s unbound
Feet!
Carelessly let these moon children be illumined, by the
Ivory pearl that lingers within this glorious twilight surrender,
No journey’s end will ever capture this spiritual moments
Experience, in such glorious detail as the remembrance carried
Within the human hearts memory so tenderly embraced!
Light bubbles of painted canvas, dancing amongst the softness
Of heavenly space amidst the skies above, wind walkers captured
In a timeless waltz of everlasting eloquence and grace!
Swift air lanterns, set drifting, uplifting the mortal spiritual soul
Of the beguiling eyes of those enlighten, whom watch in sheer
Awes amazement, at the beauty of these gliding giants, in the
Distant horizons blazing sunset!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Written: by Tom Wright
January 2015
Early morning silence is sweet,
And clock abundant.
It’s a time, when sequestered thoughts,
Are able to survive uncluttered;
I watch, as shadows fade,
Into first light’s breaking,
Street sounds have come alive
With the ripening of hours,
And the audience of night
Has disappeared;
Hours are no longer a whisper,
Softly sealed in hope,
But stepping stones leading toward
Another stressful day;
The next encroachment
Is only a voice entering the Den
“Good Morning Honey”
And the race to feed
The neighborhood cats begin;
Pt. 2
with her a tray of stack flapjacks, crisp bacon, and a foam cup filled to the rim with apple juice. I remember that she came once before, and I was glad to see her again. Her face was without concerning lines, and she had a pleasant aura about her.
I was exceedingly voracious, and so she didn't need to encourage me to eat.
She too disappeared through the steel portal, but this time dolly and I followed her.
On the other side , there were large and small numerous forms of peculiarity.
The brightness of the sun penetrated through a large window and freely occupy the rooms.
The populace was shepherd by stiff characters.
Dolly and I felt out of sort, yet flashes of memories of this place stole into my encephalon.
One of the stiff characters rushed towards me and ushered me to another large peculiar room. I was frail against her strength. She placed dolly in a wet chair in the room. Dolly gazed at the floor, and I could not see the pain in her face, but felt her misery.
The stiff character, who had the shape of an immense melon, removed my clothes and shoved me under a shower head. The pressure of the tepid water soothed the long raw abrasions on my body, in which I had no memories of how they came about.
With fresh raiment and dolly in my arms, I felt anew and I willingly let the stiff character lead me back into the population. With the stiff character at my side , I walked the grounds and fed the geese that waddled onto the thick lawn. Greedily I inhaled the scents of magnolia trees and azalea bushes.
The events of the day were quick and hearty meals. The tear of the day came when I was swept back into her world.
*****
I clawed at my arms and struggle against the unwanted phantom of my despair.
He called himself my originator, the ruler of my existence, and he proved his power over me routinely. I am ignorant to the start and the reason of his savage encroachment of my body and mind.
As far as I can remember this world that I lived in has been an eternity.
One’s Own Slipstream
by Odin Roark
Movement frozen
Knows of risks in waiting.
Three lanes,
Seven lanes,
Life’s autobahn,
Always beckoning,
Seduction to follow.
Isn't that what it's all about?
Starting way back…
A grade school playground,
Force takes power.
To stay on side lines,
Failure.
The longing to steer into the "follow" lane,
Surge to the power's fast lane,
Grab the pull,
The bully in front,
Breaking resistance,
Its girth of momentum unstoppable.
You glimpse for the first time…Free rides,
No risk,
Cocooned safety.
School yards,
I-Hop revisits,
GPA encroachment,
Graduation,
Freedom,
Pedal to the metal.
"The World is a Vampire"
You know not,
Not yet.
The interview
The job
The greater pull,
Fast lane in view,
Entrance ramp available.
Quintessential speed…yes.
Follow the leader,
Rise to the top,
Meet the power,
Meet the future spouse,
Ah,
The speed,
The even greater pull,
The free ride really looks free.
Perpetual hang-overs follow…
The grind,
The history,
The babies,
The promotions,
The divorces,
The...
The...
Finally the peace…
The return,
The dirt roads,
The two wheeled bike,
The ruts,
The flats,
The...
The...
Discovering one’s own slipstream,
Nirvana.
A charm of finches flew in circles
disappearing entirely into surreal mist
that now camouflaged the field.
It seethed around rows of trees
until all was invisible:
Silence reigned,
supernatural eerie feeling
took over my thoughts.
Fog's gradual encroachment
over hills and cliffs:
Swirling unearthly atmosphere.
I felt distressed.
My heart beat erratically,
hours of inexplicable mystery
shadows vanished as mist thickened.
I trembled with an unnamed fear.
The finches flew to safer gardens.
Screeching gulls took their place.
Across bay fog horns sounded,
as confounded boats lost direction.
Echoes resounded throughout paranormal night.
Breaking dawn witnessed sea change.
Soon I awakened from my stupor.
Like curtain rising mist dissipated,
leaving memories of that uneasy time.
Pixabay image by: ArtTower
Blood was shed so we could be free
Little value was placed on us before that
Again and again we were shackled, beaten and killed
Ceaselessly undermined and our lives underscored killed for wanting to be free
Killed for wanting to be free from our oppressors and there oppression.
Led with chains, our freedom shackled, we broke free
Instead of falling, we rose again, fighting for our lives
Vultures who thought on our dead bodies to feed, starved to death
Enlightened, encouraged we rose again a race strong like no other
Silent no more but with one voice speaking, the voice of freedom.
Man of color, strong, muscled and beautiful
Angry but empowered, brave and educated
Taken for granted no more when he arose again
Taking back what was his, what mattered to him and his own
Engraved permanently was desire to succeed and to stay free
Resisting any encroachment to his life Like any other man his blood was just as red.