Best Envisaged Poems
There’s a beguiling danger in beauty…
seduced as I was by the fickle fingers of fate musingly stroking my hair,
I envisaged
this lusciously lavish landscape
of sun-raptured heavenly hills and valid valleys
to be a lush, plush place for me to land ~
alas, such deception my naive perception did offer.
Buried beneath the facade of a fertile dream-come-true
and a mesmerizing mirage of natural light and zephyrus breaths -
where your thoughts hugged the horizons of my mind
like clouds on the edges of prairie dog skies
and where your stampeding passions trampled my inhibitions -
were delicate bandeaux of ice;
finespun and feathery like polar gossamer
that formed on the stems of your ruptured dreams
that then became my nightmare
when you had your hard freeze
while warm sap still flowed through your veins,
pumped and pushing through your broken being
and freezing on contact with the chilled clime
cocooning me, in a sudden silken surge of your glazing gauze
holding me, in the vivid wild magic of your frosted crystallized clutches -
fossilizing me, in icy opalescent ribbons of ornate whorls.
Unable to escape the grasping glacial petals of your exquisite pain,
your frost flowers plunged me into the frigid heart
of your bitter bluestem’s prairie winter...
There’s a beguiling beauty in danger
hypnotized and hijacked
as I was by the rhythmic sways of your tall grass ways -
your flickering tongue tasting my air
as my emotions were extorted
till I was bled white -
obviously oblivious
that I was being preyed upon
by a stealthy force of nature motivated by indigenous instincts.
Susan Ashley
March 13, 2018
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Poetry for the Sake of Poetry
Sponsor: John Lawless
*bluestem: tall grass native to the Great Plains with bluish leaf sheaths*
*frost flower: thin layers of ice extruded from long-stemmed plants in autumn or early winter. These thin ice layers form dainty ‘ribbons’ or ‘petals’*
Remember our High School classes?
Watched you fidget with your glasses.
Slender fingers twirled chestnut hair,
enough to make me stop and stare.
I caught that twinkle in your eye,
envisaged stroking supple thigh.
Then you flashed me your trademark smile,
made perseverance all worthwhile.
Recall when snuck into your house,
not wake your folks, a quiet mouse.
Left your spare key under a rock,
so in I'd come at twelve o'clock.
I'd savour watching you asleep,
green eyes squeezed shut whilst counting sheep.
Snuggled under cotton bedspread,
know you like left side of the bed.
It's been so long, the time is right,
our passion soars like doves in flight.
I just know we're on the same page,
let's move things on to the next stage.
From the rooftops I'll proudly shout,
for in the end, true love will out.
Hearts beat as one, we're meant to be,
what do you say, please marry me?
~ ~ ~
"What the hell, creep?! I scarce know you!
Twisted confessions make me spew!
Tainted by debased disorder,
can you spell 'restraining order'...?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
8 syllables on every line - checked with howmanysyllables.
12 November 2017
I used a more simplistic approach than my usual style as I was trying to put myself into the mind of a stalker - what's going through his head and how would he try articulating that to the target of his obsession? Hope it worked. And now I need a shower... urgh!
For the "Stalker" contest, sponsored by Silent One.
(2nd Place)
Tup tup tup, Her flimsy wings flutter
Tik tik tik, She knocks the inner door
Appears to connote life lessons
Could be heard only if we listen
Tethered her body and mind inside dark chrysalis
But blissful life, her soul envisaged and analysed
Soon emerges from a monochrome cocoon
And gracefully dances to the heavenly tune
Jumps across the colorful ixora flowers
Life saving quotes swiftly she showers
"When your mind confronts stress and tension
Just Control your emotions and be patient
And hope and envisage for a better life
And you would be free from present strives"
Feeling trapped and alone
Fed up of being home
No one listens anymore
I feel like such a bore
All I do is nag
I need a punching bag
Constant reminders
Where's our silver liner?
Half finished jobs
Me and my big gob
Courses to finish
I can see you grimace
It wasn't meant to be like this
I envisaged bliss
Reminiscing the good times
Longing for our pastimes
Sit back and reflect on
Everything that's passed.
Passage of time
The clocks ticking fast.
Enjoy each moment
Making sweet memories.
Before it's to late,
Envisaged and embrace
Rejoicing life's mysteries.
For life is fleeting
All we have is the now.
Live life like a butterfly
Love everything you see
Sunset approaches follow your dream.
When the opaque nights were starless,
and the depressing days desolately cloudy,
the journey through the tortuous valley of life
wasn’t easy as it was meant to be.
When the wilted flowers turned pallid,
and the defoliated trees tarnished tawny,
I lost the tantalizing trail of the garden path,
as in the unshed tears of toil hapless hopes sank.
The jagged pathway of listless life I traveled,
was sorely winding and the time finite.
At the end of the tormenting tunnel
I didn’t see the glitter of the guiding light.
When in stormy nights I was in the wasteland wilderness,
the surreptitious destiny designed for me,
the shards of my splintered sky fell asunder,
I forlornly envisaged strewn all around me.
I didn’t question the supreme designer’s motive,
and His ways of mundane manifestation,
but prayed for the sparkle of the sapphire nights,
and for the shower of the sunny days’ shine.
Without complaint I endured complacently
the transient time’s turbulence as His gracious gift,
waited for the spring to bloom the divine flowers,
and grow the emerald trees to enliven the blessed me.
When under the ruins of the fallen sky
my broken dreams were in the debris of despair,
I traveled within crossing the dark corridor,
and in the soul’s precinct I discovered the heavenly light.
In those precious moments I totally surrendered,
and remained subservient to His omnipresence.
I got the inner strength to hold up the falling sky,
and those enlightened instants kept me going.
Holding her head high
with a resolute look;
possessing dauntless courage and wisdom,
She never feels subservient.
The emerging modern woman
fabricates her own traits,
by obliterating the customs
of engulfing in murk named ignorance;
and suppresses the routine
of living a melancholic life.
******
This is the translation of a verse from Mahakavi Bharathiyar's poem "MODERN WOMAN". He envisaged Modern Woman as a leader, law maker, savior and an independent person. Women were treated as domestic slaves in ancient India and his writings kindled women empowerment and gender equality. Remembering him on his death anniversary(Sep -11)
The original poem was written by Bharathiyar, one of the greatest Indian poets.It was written in Tamil. I am an ardent fan of him. He died so young(39).
He was fluent in many languages including Bengali, Hindi, Sanskrit, Kuuch, French and English.
Wikipedia:
Subramania Bharati (11 December 1882–11 September 1921) was an Indian writer, poet and journalist, and Indian independence activist and social reformer from Tamil Nadu. Popularly known as "Mahakavi Bharati", he was a pioneer of modern Tamil poetry and is considered one of the greatest Tamil literary figures of all time. His numerous works were fiery songs kindling patriotism and nationalism during the Indian Independence movement.
Oh dear I completely misunderstood,
When they offered me a sweat, thought they meant a pud.
Meet us at the gym they said, thought, strange place to eat,
For a free meal I could endure the smell of sweaty feet.
Here’s your towel said the lady, took it with surprise,
opened the door to find a host of sweating thighs.
Bodies grunting everywhere, buzzing like flies
Where’s my sweet I asked, can’t print their replies.
Now I gathered was not pudding my friends offered me,
But a sweaty time in the gym to lose the fat I see.
Promised some chocolate if I manage to get thinner,
Not quite what I envisaged after my roast dinner.
So here I am sweat pouring from a thinner me
Happy ‘cos they are letting me have a biscuit with my coffee.
There he was! Staggering in the corridor, in
Clean white shirt, white bow, and white trouser
All white even the shoes, except his brown leather hat
Covering his bold head with few hairs his comb never missed
Bade everyone “Good morning” with one toothy smile,
In return he got all our love unblemished
He was every body’s dearest “Sam Uncle”
Old Uncle Sam hardly missed a day in his office
He was there like a prayer, if possible on holidays
Whether the day was rainy or windy he did bother less
He was the first to sign the register at our PM’s office
He lurched to his table, kept near the receptionist
During the lunch breaks we await, his company so amused
To listen to the aftermath of Second World War.
His poems, his songs and his heroic love sagas
He knew that we didn't believe, made- ups all by him
Then chuckles like a child until tears roll down
He knows how to tickle you with his jokes rewound
I had to leave my office and him after my confinement
I soon forgot him and the office, I was busy in my home
One afternoon when glued to the TV, telephone deafened my ears
Sheela my old friend, sobbed from the other end of the cord,
"Mr. Sam collapsed in our corridor today and passed away now”,
I too couldn't hide my sobs,His staggers envisaged
He was a living Angel, and may have winged to heaven,
His poems, his songs, his love sagas still echo my ears
Uncle Sam was no relative of our chairman, although he too called him "Uncle Sam",
But a devoted clerk during his father’s time.
Even after the retirement he continued to come to his office.
This is a tribute to him.
I am the word that grasps your soul and twists
An iota of sorrow or joy into your subconscious
I speak truth and you interpret, absorb or reject
Your silver clad universe is not my cloud filled sky
Your autumn soft earth is not the path that I tread
But your suffering is the pain that aches my heart
I am the word
You are the faceless one that takes my offspring
And delivers it prematurely stillborn to the world
That lays its corps in some far off barren desert
Dances a dance of pleasure on its alabaster bones
Chants a song of praise as nectar becomes carrion
Then rinse your palate with the gall of the unjust
You are the faceless one
You are my rock that lifts me above the raging sea
That wraps me in your cloak on chill winter nights
You go barefoot to enable me to walk stony trails
That lead to high places I have not even envisaged
You welcome me to exalted company without gain
Then lay me on a bed of lavender scented words
You are my rock
I have always dreamt of a day
A day filled with blissful memories
Entrenched in the hallowed walls
Well-knit in my heart of hearts
The day a prince stole my heart
To keep in his cherished heart-vault
I will blow the fanfare with loud trumpets
Tell the timeless tales to my children
On how he chivalrously won my heart
Captivatingly serenading my beauty
What a day glued to my memory
When he swept me off my feet *proposally*
Among cherished friends and loved ones
Who witnessed the grandstand
A real prince indeed
Fulfilling my knight in shining armour tales
The captivating nature of his nectar- sting
Was sanely unrejectable
Love beyond measure is all I crave
The happiness I have always envisaged
Alas I woke from it all
Only to discover it all being a dream
A pigment of my imaginations
I give this not because I dare;
I do not give because of fear;
I give because I really care,
And always will.
Let others wring their hands and frown;
Reflect on values tearing down;
How mighty hands do let us drown,
When times are shrill.
Take you this heart-felt gift for this;
That we are one entwined in bliss;
What we envisaged does exist,
But we are blind.
Cast wayward eyes to nearer ground;
And measure worth in this compound;
The gems we seek already found,
As by design.
So as the toll of human waste;
Mounts at a still increasing pace;
I will not let you farrow ways,
Alone at night.
This journey is for us to share;
And by my oath to this I swear;
For Time will whisper “were you there?”
What should we write.
I neva envsagd dat I wil enta dis knd of mess
wat I dtest most in lif now covas me wit hs dress
No notin abt drug traffikin , yt I ws accuzd
Is it a crime 2 help a frnd in ned?dis made me confuzd
wen d content of d bag ws opend I felt djectd
Ignoranc is nt an excuz,all my appeals wer rjectd.
*No--know ;neva--never ;envsagd--envisaged
enta--enter ;dat--that ;dis---this ;knd---kind
covas--covers ;wat--what ;lif---life ;wit---with
hs--his ;2--to ;abt---about ;traffikin--trafficking
yt--yet ;ned---need ;frnd---friend ;confuzd---confused
wen--when ; d--the ;opend--opened ;djectd--dejected
Ignranc--ignorance ;nt--not; excuz--excuse;wer--were
rjectd---rejected
CONTEST:"Text Talk" sponsored by David Williams
You lay in the wooden cot,
a broken sparrow,
Crushed. Bony. Frail.
Hair once plumed gold,
greyed to clumped feathers
like ragged trampled wings,
strawed out on the dank pillow.
Face once blushed pink plump,
Jolly kind of soft with life,
Sucked to bone. Nose to Beak.
Echoes of the mask it will soon become.
I stroked this woman
now bent back to foetus pose.
Once sworled to shell,
wrapped inside myself,
Safe.
Now boned to carcass stick.
I wanted to hold one more time,
my child,
frightened the last air would puff to nought from its hollowed breast.
But my sparrow turned and smiled,
a grimace to crack open any gates of envisaged hell.
Macabre teeth, once glowing love and laughter to the skies,
Now pecked to ochre stalks.
The pitiful bird pained to move.
Mucous mouth clacked open wide
To receive some lasting morsel of life.
Only its beady blue gaze
flashed a soul of its former self,
eyes to haunt the sea.
I swallowed back my tide of tears,
waves of memory flooding sands of life we’d shared,
from fledgling dawn cry to this,
the final nesting box.
I wanted to stuff this cot with down
of a million eider.
To cosset and hold soft this scrawn, gnawed through.
Pluck teal, goose, swan.
‘Who would have thought it would come to this?’ it croaked a laugh.
I matched smile with smile.
I held the tiny claw.
Desperate not to cling too much to pain,
too much to past.
I wanted to wrap up this dying bird
Limp, in my hanky.
White folded white, fold on fold.
Run through the streets
shouting at the world, at some unseen power.
NO.
She’s mine. She’s safe. Take me.
What cruelty did I do?
What evil must be stuffed in this maternal breast
To hold this daughter dust in my arms?
A forged signature-
Of an envisaged structure
Through an aperture