Best Encrusted Poems
Plunging, lifting, plunging -as wind blew ashes all around -
the shovels' blades incised the cold and black encrusted ground.
Attached to shovel handles were the arms of skeletons - of men,
who pausing, hacked and wheezed; then bent and smote the dirt again.
With bruised decrepit bodies - and coerced - they struggled on
beneath a sky from which the sun for them had long withdrawn.
And seeping into nostrils came that too familiar stench
when shrieking had died out, and still - they toiled at the trench.
Perhaps they dreamed of tunnels; that the cracks within the earth
inflicted by their shovels formed a path to their rebirth.
What horror in the knowing there were no more tears to cry
or that their bodies - shoeless - might, in graves they’d dug, soon lie.
First posted 5/6/10
Entered in the '2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 8' Poetry Contest of Mark Toney
Entered Feb. 5, 2023
for 2022 Poetry Marathon Qualifiers' Final Placement Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
my palette is encrusted
with all the dried remnants
of yesterdays hopes
where strokes of genius and folly
were first born in
a fresh imagination
my canvas
overlaid with realities
correcting unfinished pieces of dreams
that were once so perfect
so beautiful that nothing else
would ever do
expectations sketched with
a once steady hand
until one day
i stood back
embraced reality
and
the priceless gifts of
imperfection
Come Dusk, Sol sinks into the pitch of Night,
till crickets drown out bellowing bullfrogs.
The sun bleeds, inking Night with blood-red light;
while woodpeckers drum on hollowed-out logs.
Splintered silhouettes silently conjoin;
flowing into ebon pools of twilight.
The sun gilds the moon, one side of the coin;
golden spheres, fueling life with their light.
Ebony cushions the whole universe,
encrusted with billions of twinkling gems.
Splendiferous pink-colored clouds disperse;
while flowers nod off, snoozing on their stems.
Tethered to time's imperceptible string,
we're somehow connected to everything.
When the night wind changes course
sending breezes from the north,
when farmer's fields lie brown and fallow
and empty ropes swing from the gallows,
when children's faces are drawn and gaunt
and earth-bound spirits wail and haunt,
when eagles scan the barren snow
and field mice shiver deep below,
The dragon stirs deep in his lair,
the townfolk sense him with despair,
the mountain rumbles as he wakes,
he spreads his wings, the valley quakes.
He snorts and breathes a sulphur fire
and eyes his cache with dark desire,
gold and gemstones line his cave,
a sea of diamonds with emerald waves.
The trees are black against the snow,
one warrior stands to face his foe,
chain mail clanking, his sword is honed,
he goes to face his fate alone.
Fire breathing, wing-spread vast,
the warrior is at first aghast,
the dragon's chest and stomach, too,
shine with gems of multi-hues.
He'd slept so long upon his loot,
he wore a jewel-encrusted suit.
He saw the warrior's weapon glint
and chuckled at this innocent.
The dragon swooped and breathed his breath,
the warrior smelled the scent of death.
Many times the dragon dove
and set aflame the fields and groves.
Lost in this game, he gave no thought
to the warrior who mattered naught,
and as the dragon flew by low
the warrior drew his mighty bow.
The bow and arrows were Elfen-hewn,
inscribed with words in ancient runes.
The warrior held his breath and aimed
and steeled himself against the flames.
The dragon saw the arrow cocked
and turned his head, their eyes were locked.
The arrow's flight was straight and true,
into the dragon's eye it flew.
The warrior was elected king,
he wore fine jewels and heavy rings,
but though he tried, he found no peace,
he'd formed some strange bond with the beast.
The corpse was plucked clean of its jewels
and all the people danced like fools,
though he was king of hill and glen,
they never saw him smile again.
I formed the poet to be my clay pen
To dance on the pin tip of my understanding
I delight in words
All things came into existance through my words
The planets
The stars
The moon
The sun
The universes beyond what you can see
They are tethered by my imagination
I am a God of order
I delight in repetition
My ways are perfect
What you see a chaos, fits perfectly into my plans
I occupy all the spaces
I exist within each breath
My energy flows from beginning to end and back again
I allow you to glimpse my shadow
For my full Glory would consume your human form
I am beyond your comprehension
Yet I wish you to know me
Ponder me
Come into my loving arms
My words are written on ancient scrolls
Each verse contains my essence
My invitation to a wondorous feast
Taste the succulence of my bounty
The flavours my affection
My consummate Love
Do not be concerned with the temporary
Trust in my grace
For I know all your needs
This world will one day disappear
Paradise will reside under your feet
I will be your completion
Dancing will have new meaning
Rivers will sparkle like diamonds
The skies will no longer need the sun
For I will be your light
We will walk through a new Jerusalem
Streets of gold
Buildings encrusted in precious gems
Trees will be laden with fruit
No hunger
No tears
My children will know freedom
Strength will course through veins
Angels will walk in their midsts
Age will no longer be their enemy
Death will be a forgotten memory
For I am God
My words
My poetry
They can be your reality
Make use of your free will
I am bound by my own promises
You must choose my path
Be a vessel of my Love
You my clay pen
Can flow
With golden ink
For this contest I am asked to write from the perspective of God.
It is an insurmountable task for one as limited as myself. I humbly
submit this attempt and pray that it honors my heavenly Father.
It was not my intention to ever post in PS again
but through an open window I've caught a glimpse
and smell of what's been dumped into the soup.
No pleasure to poets will cruel deception bring
through mendacious words with a venomous sting
Clumsy are the fingers thrusting a poisoned dart
Villany flows from the arteries of a wicked heart
What keeps one hidden in fear behind a mask
lurking in shadows whilst imbibing from a flask
It's a path encrusted with derision and pretense
One a fool walks when guilt becomes immense
What price for a soul that's died too many deaths
or a life once more restored with sinister breaths
How many graves dug when loose threads unravel
Move on before the judge wields his mighty gavel
Only the naive and gullible would dare to believe
such repugnant lines written and meant to deceive
A weed in a garden, secreted among stalks of wheat
soon to wither and wilt. Such is the fate of a cheat
Vinegar in ink from a pen's nib has been interlaced
Woe to a deplorable life when it has been disgraced
Jagged, the rusted edge honed by a dour personality
In darkness looms the lonely; a hallmark of depravity
And why? We often ask and wonder- why
does this small Earth revolve in time and space-
a microscopic speck- diminished by
the boundless vastness of the universe,
unending and unknown? Why are we here?
We go from birth to death upon a sphere
we customized to fit our needs; caught up
in galaxies of mini-worlds we made-
of bustling cities, growing industries,
complexities of homes and families,
of governments, religions, schools, and those-
of our own selves. We ask- what lies beyond
the realm of joys and comforts, or the woes
these bring; beyond our cloudy atmospheres
of love and peace, of war, disease, and crime?
And what, we ask, what mammoth plan could this-
this tiny particle of cosmic dust
encrusted with the scale of human strife
be part of? Matter not the what or why-
the unsolved heavens or eternal scheme!
Enough- enough, for now, to deal with life
and death- and all those worlds that lie between-
in this, our tiny universe named Earth-
a strange, complex dimension all its own.
October 6, 2014
~2nd Place~
Contest: Out Of The Box
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
Judged:01/09/2017
~2nd Place~
Contest: Structured Forms - Iambic Verse
Sponsor: Giorgio A. V.
Judged: November 6, 2014
VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH
Death blew his misty breath at me
And I trembled in the cold,
Feelings frozen, I stood affixed,
My heart encrusted with salty crystals...
At that point, the blanket of God's promises
Covered me, empowered me
And warmed my soul from within.
Death placed his heavy hand on me
And I crumbled under the load
Crushed and crestfallen, I staggered,
My being burdened with the deadweight...
At that moment, the strength of God's presence
Secured me, reassured me
And sustained my spirit with hope.
03.15.18
Springtime on the ranch is just round the bend
You’ll get your nose cleared, we have cows and pigs
The thaw brings forth chores, that smell and offend
Rubber boots and gloves are now our new digs
As the snow melts, we are left with a moat
Springtime is here with its bag full of tricks
It’s sour and slick, so just clear your throat
The thistles now grow so watch out for pricks
The air never smells like sugar and spice
Out in the birch, there grows fly agaric
It deters the skunk, encrusted with lice
This mushroom will make, all feel lethargic
A blend of toadstool and garlic I’m told
Will stop puffy butt from reaching our fold
~
She played in her two a.m. sweater,
wore gold in the palm of her hand
Thought life couldn’t be any better,
her sisters just don’t understand
Sang choruses stitched out in leather,
encrusted with jewels in her style
Her hair flowed of September weather,
October awaited her smile
Beneath every heaven so smitten,
now dancing away with the sun
In phrases on stardust she’s written,
just her way of having some fun
For she is an everyday dreamer,
her heart just a part of the rhyme
This modern day fashioned moonbeamer,
a woman ahead of her time
~
The poet mines the cave for treasures sought;
its walls encrusted with events long past.
Chipping away to find that buried thought,
emerging with gold nuggets at long last.
Then comes the day it all falls into place,
remove one word – the message feels diminished.
The poet, feeling visited by grace,
stands up and smiles, proclaiming “it is finished.”
I've been walking down this road alone
Searching for a way to get back home
but each brick releases pensive memories
until they've blurred in a shade of monochrome
Maybe I was a coward for deciding to leave
Trepidation became fear so I walked away
but some say it took the courage of a lion
to leave him standing in the door that day
If I'd been bastioned in an armored suit of tin
my tears would have encrusted me in rust
To a heart that can't stop crying over lost love
it's too daunting a task to believe again in trust
How foolish I was, to rely upon a naive heart
for allowing me to drown in a deluge of rain
There's no hiding beneath a haystack of straw
It was inane to let my heart overrule my brain
No wizard's words spoken from behind a curtain
will guide me since love came disguised as a thief
No magic wand waved will help me find my way
Only time has the power to allay such grief
Against a browning hill
oak trees' bleeding limbs are stretched;
some drops release to softly fall
some cling to dry encrusted scars.
A few short months and we will walk
beneath the springing trees
marking their swords of thinnest green
stabbing at the stars.
And so, life seasons make their rounds
in nature and in men
the flower wilts, the rose is pruned,
the leaves must fall again.
Everything of lasting worth
contains a seed of loss;
on young love's throbbing circlet
hangs a bitter cross.
We will walk life's lanes together,
cherishing this pain we share
for spring will come tomorrow
and bloom on our despair.
Copyright, November 11, 2014
“Guilty, Sir, if you insist that I am--
Yes, ‘twas I who cut her with a knife and
Took her heart out, so very gently while
It was beating--still beating in my palms.
From the cavity where her heart had lain
I placed it in an ornate box with care,
A vessel lined with the finest satin,
Encrusted around with glittering gems
That shone and sparkled like her living eyes,
Which had enthralled me when she was alive.
“What? Remorse, Sir? No, absolutely not!
With what I did, I am most satisfied.
Know, Sir, that she had promised me her heart
When we were young and very much in love--
This love we nurtured, as seasons went by
And yearly sealed in sincere assurance,
Till she slowly became cold and distant,
Not speaking a word, till through circumstance,
She confessed that someone else had her heart,
So I--I took what was pledged to be mine.
“Where, Sir? It’s in a space under my bed,
Where nightly I take it out of its place
And lay it on my pillow near my head
That I may caress it and dream of days
When lovers stood fast on what they had pledged.
Please, Sir, if you’d retrieve the box for me,
This dank dark cell would be a paradise,
For her heart would bear me such company
That even the loss of freedom would suffice
To make me feel I am a man most free.”
April 2, 2023
Long shaded walks neath gilded canopies,
as Autumn’s twilight song proclaimed the cold
with words from lips of russet, aired with ease,
entwined with brittle leaves of bronze and gold
in muted tones; a whisper on a breeze,
that breathed of sun-kissed hands she used to hold;
of how an arctic moon upon her crept,
dissolving thoughts of Summer as she slept.
The wind did paint in pearl encrusted hue,
o’er fading hint of fragrant amber glow
with jewelled tears of frosty morning dew;
the pale sun all but chilled the earth below.
Of ashen light, a season born anew
brought wilderness and unrelenting snow
to smother hibernating Autumn spice;
entombed, with just her dreams, in lands of ice.