Best Ends Poems
Snowdrop gleams brightly in the light
On autumn's nape that hangs on iced trees;
Its shine endures and fills the night
With a lacquer from nature's alchemy.
Each shape is unique than the rest
Wondrously strung as mist of worth
Rare flurry ones; its chapter's best,
Designed by frost to enchant our earth
Woven tight flashing through chilled air
To warm nips of November's spell
Oval or round, these gems declare
The sparkling white made to excel.
Lovely the flake in endless streams
Bestowed to winter...nature's dream!
Super Sonnet Premium Contest For John Hamilton
Re-post: 12/14/2018
Originally Written 7/23/2018
august sun; is fire blown to forest tree;
still it holds a girl's hot breath in its green
shade; covers
her shadow; just broke off the dark sky;
red-cold; yellow bite; now leafy whispers
mean stems to boughs; broken leaves to will
under her feet, the death
Fall pulls skin on
no flutter on the girl's russet cheeks;
trees never cry so quiet or twist so low,
little-princess verdant crown thrown.
Oh laundry, how relentless you are in this house,
It’s as if I were a polygamist’s spouse.
By: Sabina Nicole
I wept upon the news deployed
For now within, exists a void
My heart has stopped, it’s turned about
For life with love is now without
Now cast away, the physical form
I await the fate, to be reborn
To one day greet you there, again
The Gates of Heaven then let us in
Hand in hand, we move ahead
As souls permit, though bodies’ dead
A smile to you I then will give
For past our deaths, I know we’ll live
Such little time has passed where once was just
a dream; I lived to love you
beneath labyrinths sky
Sleepless nights, clutching to memories as
they slowly fade echoing
through deprive lace fingers
And I would go, to the ends of the earth
to be close and in your arms
feeling gracious heaven
11/15/2019
'Kimo Form Old or New' Contest Info
Sponsor Constance La France
Eleven months without physical harm
is a blessing she cradles in her arms.
One more month remains of living unchained.
Soon life might lose the dread that threads alarm.
As his time serving overseas dwindles,
her coerced endurance holds less kindle.
Her thought onslaught is worry fraught and serves
images that swell in her heart and nerves.
She lives aware that one second can swerve
a life into despair no one deserves.
He might die or be maimed at the finish line.
In her mind, September is a landmine.
Fears make wishes to become unaware,
be numb to thirty more days of warfare.
She knows as a premature lamenter,
she wants sleep until the end of September.
Often I dream of better days
Where it was not so hard to cope
A place where there is peace of mind
And the streets are full of hope
The anger that I feel inside
With days of being stressed
The hurt, the pain, the sorrow
Can all be laid to rest
A place where I can find that peace
Surrounded by family and friends
Maybe that is the pot of gold
That lies where the rainbow ends.
A long winter ends
Flowers prism the sunshine
Life begins anew
Pink Roses of Sharon
hugging the streetlamp
The blue sky with
sand texturred clouds
is like a reflection
of water and the beach
An oasis of green grass...
with pink, orange, red and yellow
Mums floating like waterlilies
in the green water...
Birds stop and fly
land and fly
staying close to earth
to forage for food
Green leaves that turned
yellow - then turned gold
Like a door
The Gates of Heaven
await the winter
when all leaves
and blossoms die
When nature shows
our true colors...
If we blossom eternally
or sear in hell
All shining like a mirror
to the almighty...
The Long Count Calendar, Cycle One Ends
December twenty-first, two thousand and twelve –
The Mayan long count calendar sets sights on that year.
Are there ecological and cosmic questions to delve?
Is it time for modern man to panic and fear?
The reckoning at hand, according to Mayans,
Began with the creation of the world.
Then, the sky still lay on the primordial sea, black
And the long count calendar began time’s whirl.
Man has traveled a long way on life’s stage.
Throughout time to beyond the information age,
Amazing discoveries have and will come to man
Since before and after the scientific method began.
End of the world theories run rampant these days.
Promulgated by televisions entertaining ways.
History Channel’s “Decoding the Past”
Brought on many doomsday sequels…and fast.
Did the galactic alignment of nineteen, ninety, eight
Begin the wake of a super-massive black hole fate?
Or will a geomagnetic reversal mark earth’s end?
Can we know when the apocalypse will begin?
The Holy Bible says no one knows when.
Upon that premise, hope over fear may win.
Have faith and see what NASA has to say
About that previously predicted calendar day.
Polarity change takes thousands of years.
And it doesn’t affect planetary alignments
There is no huge planet heading for earth.
So, predictions need realignment.
Be faithful; and with Christ live a thousand years.
Even if the apocalypse does start, put fears on shelve.
What will really happen in two thousand and twelve?
Cycle two of the Mayan long count calendar will begin.
© August 26, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
RELEVANT SHORT VIDEO: http://www.jpl.nasa.gov/video/index.cfm?id=876
I penned a thousand lullabies 'bout you
Yet your lashes closed, tender
To the ends of those songs ...
You whispered sacred secrets to my name
Tied bright bows of dalliance
To the ends of each breath ...
Deep in your eyes my wand'ring soul resides
For I followed them homeward
To the ends of the earth.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Brian's Select 7, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Pick A Title, Vol 11 - Kimo" Poetry Contest, Edward Ibeh, Judge & Sponsor.
( Syllables = 10, 7, 6 X 3, counted at HowManySyllables.com )
I stare at the paper, pen in hand
Nothing fills the lines but angry tears
Where are the words that overflowed;
where are the works that wrote themselves
What happened to the sleepless nights
a poem would scream to be heard
Refuse to let me rest until it was freed;
released from the confines of my mind
I squeeze my pen harder; willing something onto
the page. The empty paper that mocks me so often
Anything ...I search for anything that resembles a word;
one that unlocks the vat hiding emotions that spoke for me
But I search in darkness; neither seeing nor hearing
Pain grabs my attention and I focus back on my hand
I set down my pen and switch off the lamp
There is no longer room on the paper to write
Reaching for the door I look back at the desk lit only by the moon
...at the one beam of light shining on the red stained paper
Tears falling, shoulders back, I turn and close the door behind me
02/22/2018
Your fate is sealed
Once a year
or so the book
tells us
Death is not
a thing to worship
Life is!
When some small creature
crawled forth from the primeval
ooze
We were left with
the responsibility of
continuing the cycle
We walk on gilded splinters
and just maybe we should let
Father Time decide our fate
But I feel we should
resist to the end
Stop the killing
Let peace reign
on our small planet
which circles a life-giving star
We are the stewards of
our biosphere
We owe our exsitence
to a miracle
The winds here.
It's come to whisper secrets
And blow my words all to the grounds.
There go all my papers,
They never had a reason or rhyme.
I'm wishing you would call me
And spare me a short story,
I can't seem to find the mind to like any of mine.
I'll hit you with a sarcastic punch line
And leave you with a black eye of regret.
Maybe one day
You'll be ready
To start just what you said.
Maybe one day
You'll be ready
To start just what you said.
I hope it never ends.
I'm here.
I'm burning like a birthday candle;
Blow me out and make a wish.
Oh so now you're not happy here.
I can't just relight myself, you can try again next year.
She's wishing that I would stop my writing,
But that's not what I like and I strike twice like lightning.
And the lighting doesn't help the situation.
It's cold in here and she's wearing my good sweater.
I start to feel a bit better when I get it back and it smells like her.
Maybe one day
You'll be ready
To start just what you said.
Maybe one day
You'll be ready
To start just what you said,
My favorite loving friend.
And you know that all my works about you
And all my doubts about you,
You know it never ends, you know it never ends.
And she hates every one of my songs,
But I can't be in the wrong.
Stop hanging on a chorus.
I didn't know that you were so porous
And that I could sink in so deep.
I really should sing with a disclaimer.
She hates all of my songs but can you blame her,
Can you blame her?
Maybe one day
You'll be ready
To start just what you said.
Maybe one day
You'll be ready
To start just what you said,
My favorite loving friend.
I hope it never ends,
I hope it never ends.
We heard today the horrifying news -
that earth will shatter with the new day’s light!
Alone – just you and I – how will we choose
to spend our time on this - our final night?
We will not dine; instead we pour fine wine.
Old love songs we put on, and we dance slow
I tightly hold your body; you hold mine.
Desire consumes us though we sadly know
time left to us there is so little of!
We worship one another in the way
we did the very first time we made love.
We’re sated, and there are no words to say.
A new world waits for us when we both die.
In one another’s arms we watch the sky.
Sept. 25, 2020
N/A in another contest
for Brian Strand's 'COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (25)any form any theme'