Best Enshrines Poems
Rhythmic pose arcs lifting elegant ambience
Graceful dance enshrines artful renascence
Visceral posture invites emotional response
Festive celebration of aesthetic renaissance.
Attired in red and blue of simple elegance
Glorious style augments swirling excellence
Left arm risen high points gracious eminence
Finger tips lift vivid attire in quiet eloquence.
Golden bangles adorn wrists flirting in stare
A lone yellow flower crowns her silky hair
Folded right arm obstructs in a defiant dare
Index finger hides grief, eyes closed in prayer.
Head turned right, arched with sculpted flair
Tense neck muscles manifest muted despair
Open fingers gesture a stealth grievous flare
Air of intellectual grandeur opulently glares.
Ponder why the painter didn't show her eyes
Discover invisible pain vibrant colors disguise
Beneath the splendor lies a hidden surprise
Cultural dance-music echoes her silent cries.
September 22, 2017
Placed 1st:Poems that paint a picture
Painter: Anna Razumovskaya
Sponsor: Silent One
HM: Strand choice U contest by Brian Strand
you carve your words precisely
like a master does a flawless diamond
infuse your images on the head of a pin
not a letter wasted
you who
speaks from deeper within
with every new write
never one or one hundred reads suffices
each new recite reveals something new
grabs the readers heart
and we the better for it
you are the poet writes
like the brush of Van Gogh
his emotions vibrant in every stroke
every painting a work of genius
in your poetry
we find that pearl
hidden too deep for the diver
now opened and revealed
blinded by its light we see
what was once previously
invisible
now!
transparent
like the gentle prophet
you sew and lay a carpet
that sensitizes us
from the very bottom of our awareness
to the peak of our understanding
it is LOVE that enshrines your words
you!
the fabled unicorn
we
the fortunate
that by your cause
confirms
our childhood dreams
DO exist
september 29 2015
armand
Your lover’s drawing straws without you, better bid farewell;
he’d never time for rhyme or reason, so it’s just as well.
Slip out the curtained window quick, the future winks and calls,
ignoring paths of pagan gods, where faulty footsteps fall.
Identify faint flashbacks, cloaked and clustered in a heap
and sort out those you treasure most, you need or long to keep;
Forget about the epoch past, which wasn’t what you’d sought,
pursue instead remaining dreams before they come to naught.
Reflect no more on what it was he’d meant for you,
strike out ahead where something waits, has sent for you.
The graveyard night is haunted still, it hovers where you sleep
recalling souvenirs amassed, the ones that made you weep.
The poets poised in dungeon vaults, now growing old and bald,
retrace their palsied pleas in dust, like those that you once scrawled.
Except for runic proverbs carved on stone walls ill defined,
assumptions will not dog you that you dare to leave behind.
The fortune-tellers waiting at the moat for you
read tarot cards while setting sail a boat for you.
The road behind is empty now, the sky is painted black
so gather all the wisdom gained, no time for looking back.
Forego the prophets’ prophecies, so tempting to pursue -
although they might be asked advice, they seldom have a clue.
Reject the secrets they reveal, enveloped in their guile,
which be betrayed between the tombs in ruins of their smile.
They’re waiting with a fractured rule of thumb for you
while beating on a perforated drum for you.
A sand-glass dribbles distant dunes, the sun dial’s shadow’s late,
so now’s the time for slipping through the open swinging gate.
A joker wild defies the fools to read between the lines
in search of cryptic radiance the future world enshrines -
“the days ahead will wake again like waves before the dawn
when picking up the pieces left behind a passing pawn.”
A noble knight awaits to clear the board for you
when, soon, a cup of nectar wine is poured for you.
A cruel Jack Frost blows icy floss
(in front of spring a’ burstin’)
while shiftin’ sheaves of withered leaves
near freezin’ streams a’ thirstin’.
A pack reviled runs roamin’ wild,
the alpha wolf wakes howlin’
then scents a lean and lonesome scene
while on the lurk a’ prowlin’.
A cloud revolts with spangled bolts,
and starry skies start closin’
as wild geese soar beyond death’s door
neath naked moon a’ posin’.
Electric shafts, like fractured rafts,
sail night’s cathedral caldrons –
their cracking curse makes herds disperse
in random splayed and sprawled runs.
A she-wolf sighs with hungry eyes;
the ancient wolf waits, bayin’ -
with weary back, he’s lost the track,
his bandied legs betrayin’.
The brood’s somewhere in shrouded lair
with mama left to mind ’em -
the wolf, a’ drag with empty swag,
is on his way to find ’em.
The pack rejoins with weary loins -
perhaps its days are numbered.
In evening’s night, he’s feeling tight,
with aches and pains encumbered.
As morning nears, with shaggy ears
(one droopin’ down, hung over)
he’ll set the course with renewed force,
for, yes, he’s still the rover.
When snow enshrines the timberlines
and skies are ripped asunder
though young, lupine, they’ll stifle whines,
as gullies fill with thunder;
mid echoes in the mouth o’ death,
they bid farewell the lair
while panting puffs o’ crystal breath
float, hanging in the air.
Their path is black (they can’t look back
for herds long gone a’ missin’)
as dusk profanes the snow-bound plains
the sinkin’ sun was kissin’.
Neath northern lights, with barks and bites,
he keeps ’em all in motion –
the speckled scars of fallin’ stars
display the night’s devotion.
The sky’s a’ blushin’ in the east,
and hollow wind’s are sighin’
while buzzards freeze in gallows trees,
a’ roostin’, rapt and eyein’.
These ghouls of prey, they’re spooked away,
like tumbleweeds a’ blowin’,
by tilted head, white fangs tipped red,
and warnin’ wail’s a’ growin’.
...... Continued in part 2 ......
My verse has been chosen as Poem of the Month at Sherborne Abbey!
The curious offerings of sacristans
Are given in obscure humility
The symbol of the cupping of the hands
Enshrines the essence of this mystery
The dawn unlocked; the turning of a key
The mystic world behind the little door
The mourning weepers, watching, silently
The quiet foot upon uneven floor
The layered shadowed centuries; the pass
Of long dead worshippers before the throne
Slow shifts of coloured pools of stains of glass
Soft drift of latticed light on pillar stone
The empty candle, thirsting for new oil
Unscrewed and filled, screwed up again and lit
The hidden corners, carved by masons’ toil
In which a wary flickered flame may flit
The covering, uncovering; each fold
Of linen and of altar cloth an art
Within the starch of white, on marble cold
The space to hold His living, beating heart
Here, understated wafers wait in line
For blessing, as an unblessed congregation
Here silver, water, light, and red wine shine
Anticipating sacred consecration
Here eye, and hand, and mind, seek symmetry
In objects placed, in psychic ebbs and flows
Seek that perfection only God can see
In right angle and scented mystic rose
When all are done and gone, her hands will shake
The fragments of His flesh on holy ground
Shed drops upon the earth its thirst to slake
Pour water through the light without a sound
When all are gone, all blessed with wine and bread
There, in the East, where better men have trod
She kneels and presses to the step her head
And, lost in awe, she speaks these words to God
I am that ancient soul you always knew
A part of you, from when time first began
The I am that I am, the that in you
That serves thee, as I will, while still I can
I come to you as Christian, Muslim, Jew
Agnostic, Gnostic, Druid, Angel, Man
The cupping of my hands I give to you
The curious offering of a sacristan
© Gail Foster 2016
King
The Lion, as the King of Beasts, is known:
yet, not the strongest species on his own,
and not the largest beast to stand alone;
but still, he sits upon his self-made throne.
For sure, his stately attitude enshrines
the full respect that leadership designs.
With cocky gait, full mane, he fast assigns...
each creature, large or small, conforms...resigns.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: Free Verse or Rhyme - 8 Lines Max
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Judged: 05/04/2019
ADVENTUROUS WOMANLife is to live and to chill in.
Just relax and lay back and enjoy your living.
Do not worry about crazy ass leaders in your country.
Law abides and that should tell them something.
If it does not, oust.
Egypt has done this to two.
Adventurous the world maintains.
You want to sightsee life insanely.
Skydiver you are.
You are on flight to the Republic of the Maldives.
A political escapade you have partook.
You are foreign blood from the United States.
This is your family origin and you want to connect.
Therefore, you donate to the cause to project.
Exploitation you do not mind.
You want a fulfilling life and one that enshrines.
No matter what the big picture is, your consideration is that life was given to live.
Thus, you contemplate with an inner focus.
You will enjoy life and all its trinkets.
____________________________________|
PENNED ON AUGUST 31, 2014!
My Rhetoric Rhapsody
Oh! I am a Poet
It’s me again pretty poet of the century,
Breaking through till I reach mercury.
A pretty poet with popping phrases,
A poor poet with perpetual personality.
Praying that my poems pulls out pieces of pleasure,
Arouses interest, motivates and inspires.
Oh! I am a Poet
Who teaches as he preach
On every inch that becomes a cliché
And leaves your ears aching when reached.
Who frees frozen feelings of Refugees.
Who unfolds fundamental mysteries of false phenomenon.
Who washes and enshrines shameful ships on a sea shore,
Assuring Sheppard of Shelter by Lord Krishna.
Oh! I am a Poet
A rock solid hardcore poet
Self proclaimed Fundi
A super duper verse creator
A self sufficient professor
A prodigy not a protégé
A dictator not an agitator
A toughie not a roughie
I don’t recite to hear myself talk
I don’t talk to be noticed
I don’t take Hobson’s choice
Nor hobble to a hoax
I don’t settle for a bird in hand
Nor crawl for half a loaf
My reaches exceeds my grasp
My wishes akin to my riches
My poems are my pillar
My wits are my tools
No hocus pocus for my hoi polloi
I’m not a hoity-toity poet who scribbles down hokum poetry
My poetry is impalpable,
Inexplicable and impeccable.
My creativity is infallible.
My verses so impregnable.
I am an imperious poetic licensee
I am a rusty epic epidemic through youth poets’ wannabes,
A penurious poet who indulge in perilous peripheries.
My masterpiece is not some common handwritten handiwork on handkerchief.
I craft them like a handicapped handyman with no haphazard!
And this is my Rhetoric Rhapsody...
See, when I rhyme my rhymes that hum like hymns
And step on my Poetic Stiletto heels to find open minds
And dine in a pile of my rhymes...
My mimes start to mime my rhymes
And this is a route where I quote that this is not over yet...
My Cousin Chaos
What cousin incest I am my own chaos
too much unpredictable prediction not to be cosmic
comical maybe the anarchy the drive for comprehension
and so much honest serious hilarious enjoyment
I am related to myself brother in arms mind and legs
on the journey to what where and because of
which fallacious fragmentation reconstructed
polar posited complementing contradictions
She or he who searches seeks the clown jester uncertain certainty
father mother sibling offspring un-othering completion
takes domination pseudo-science’s conjectures
concatenating refutations of the blinding path and vision
The butterfly who flaps the wings the roots to fly
propels the grounded theories of places times
in foresight hindsight blind-sight sentinel sensation
full of telling meaning narrative enlivened imperceptibility
Embraces cuddles rejects rejection rediscovers lost
and lonely loving horizontal longitude the lateral
collateral imprisonment of iron cages rational irrational
emotional confinement liberation freedom from and of
Enshrines in effervescent transcendental condensation
of what perspires inspires transpires in the illuminated
darkness boxes ignorant lamenting shallow high rise entities
makes love to sensual cognition consensual chaos
Or is it co-sin cuisine havoc’s Karma dishy chaperone
and chastised illusion disordered fusion fission
elemental monument harmonious disintegration musky
tall minuscule order rising falling standing firm
When thereafter now again before and yet again I loose
the plotting pot containing potty madness sane insanity
I ask my cousin and the loopy loops and square shaped circles
question the Universe that stays aloof precise and altogether mine
02nd June
Let science captivate you
Just nourish your mind
Whether if it is physics or chemistry
Be the one who enshrines
The elements of the periodic table
Along with the electrostatic force
Will assist you a great deal
Just stay on course
These four walls mean freedom,
From the rain, suffrage and the stains,
Liberty from oppression and religion,
To make other songs and trains.
No austere twangs or cold voice,
No dais glutes or traditional figure;
My structure has form and choice,
In my bedroom, my configure.
Free will is in-built and innate,
No-one can deprive you of it,
That i exist with actions which state,
However small, gives me interdict.
My arms act, and my legs move too,
And my opinions can act to prohibit,
Sadness in someone’s eyes in lieu,
Or capitalism’s theft and unfair sit.
I was wrought by conversations,
With my brother inside four walls,
And there can be no revisions,
Or bargaining situation stalls.
You can take back deeds by words,
But words can’t be retracted,
And even though they can be swords,
They can still be propitiated.
What was said in that room was said,
Truth bloomed as a daffodil shines,
So if your culture’s just wrong, red,
You have your four wall enshrines.
Welcoming warm Spring breezes,
pervades,teases,glaciers,
angels souring high,
watching ice caps quiver,
water delivered,
waters fall with reckless a band,
with vibrant goals in command,
inept to describe,
shear beauty that lies,
picturesque beauty thrives,
"painters pallet" pales,
what Mother natures unveils,
enriching our souls,
such grand beauty at her hand,
the yoke that stokes,
the binding bestows,
enshrines the vibrant Valley below.
Edward
cop. Part one.
Broken in your shadow
And lost within your light
The child who chooses ego
And the man who wants to fly
Embracing every sanctum
Which enshrines your dying cause
To be the one to save you
And forget those scars and sores
The love you now desire
The only good you've known
Will end with how it started
In the pain that you have grown
With loneliness now clinging
Your memory rotting out
You chase the same old reasons
That will make you scream and shout
Your heart now lacks forgiveness
For what you have become
The spiral-end of nothing
Mistaking blindness for the sun
A visage of perfection
This man is just a mask
It reflects your hate on others
As the child selfishly attacks
If keen a goldfinch knits, loops and entwines
through hawthorn, urgent instinct loosens free.
It's bright with flash that crimson blaze enshrines;
as summer scorches red, it could be me
when lying prone on beach or under tree,
in pensive mood when I gaze out to sea.
If darkened lakes with troubled waves reflect
a dying forest's lonely leafless tree;
when time is stretched with endless hours' neglect,
as late November breaks, it could be me
among the rushes singing sweet my plea
against the final sun and moons' decree.
If gathered swallows ghost in autumn's shade
and scissor night with scarlet skies that flee;
then darkling eves almost the stars invade.
Where shadows slowly dance, it might be me
that heads like ships to seek a sheltered quay
or sheep that search a fold across sharp scree.
if spring is warm, Earth breaks the winter’s fast,
exploding green reveals my heart at last.
"Urban sonnet" contest 20 April 2019
Life
Miracle of birth enshrines an ethereal event
Whether in poverty or affluent wealth.
While some are blessed with enviable health,
Some get saddened by persistent illness.
Life distressed by destitute and hunger
Submersed under depths of gruesome sorrow,
Eminently thrives to awaken from slumber
To reach a dawn of brighter tomorrow.
Every action of goodwill inspires someone
To equal reaction of similar intentions,
Every joy of receiving swiftly reciprocates
Into act of giving that admirably reverberates.
Abundance of wealth often returns to charity,
Hope inevitably rises from ashes of poverty,
Happiness visits but never stays forever,
Every winner someday faces a losing endeavor.
Stepping outside onto avenues of strife
Life is overwhelmed by grief that magnifies,
As meager existence of restless feelings
Questions the virtues of opulent dwellings.
Money and power may satisfy for a while
But upon introspection they don't suffice.
Life worthwhile thrives with family and friends
For material things don't matter in the end.
December 2, 2017
Placed 2nd: Strand select X contest by Brian Strand