Best Escapes Poems
Leveret scurries
Trained ears, panoramic sight
Saved - by a hare's breath.
Easter Bunny blinks
Burrows the deep undergrowth
Close shave this morning
Turning salt mixes within the desert sand
fired clay dipped inside a deeply moulded shell
from the blood flowing straight into feathers
A wing speaks from four chambers as an echo
holds a silent moment paused touching oceans mist
A sky burns red as the sun dips down dawning twilight
Faraway distant murmurs through the heart's beat
whispers carried upon the winds that change tune
one thousand memories captured in the grey clouds
Woe, to touch the winter’s soul
The depths of slumber
Once filled whole
My heart it trembles at the thought
That it could be ensnared
Assuming then my true control
My might and virtue
I now extol
My heart awakens knowing well
Its life has just been spared
Don't tease me with words,
they fly away uncaged birds
and none fill the lines
except the ink flow unused
as it waits release to speak.
The need to do things escapes me
However, there are things that must be done
I have eliminated dishwashing
Well not entirely
Just wash the one plate and fork
After every meal
Cooking has been modified
Can opener and/or microwave
I only vacuum when the cat complains
The dust “kittens” look like large mice
Fashion wise I have a rotating sequence
Flannel shirts, pants when required,
A sketchy seven o-clock shadow beard
Exercise primarily consists of
Picking up items I have dropped
For mental stimulation
I lose arguments with inanimate objects
And battle with AI “customer service” bots
For excitement I sit by the tracks
Waiting for a train to stir up a poem
Desperate Escapes
By Odin Roark
They see only what they need,
That desire to see beyond
The heat and squalor,
The effrontery to their species' senses,
These sentient beings whose 2nd bedroom
Remains the fire escape.
How haunting
The mangy dog sniffing the gutter below,
Ribs needing something besides vanishing hair
To protect his fragile existence,
His pride long gone
Like the optimistic glow of a downtrodden eye
Slowly closing in the darkness of lost hope.
Yet…
Somehow the animal survives,
Knows no ring-of-battle towel to throw,
Not ropes to hang upon,
No round bell of ending to depend upon.
We contemplate…
High above TV antennae sway precariously,
Moon's glow the spotlight,
This era of cable
Beyond reach,
HD a dream for many,
Rabbit ears struggling to survive
Yet another era of poverty.
For such mutual survivors,
Resting on window sills,
Splayed on cast iron escapes
Atop pillow and laundry,
The square screen offers fantasy survival,
Providing dreams in the bed-of-hope
Even though void of reality,
Their innocence clinging,
They survive greed's harsh weapons,
Enduring further nights of longing,
Endemic to cookie-cutter imitations
A grandiose Manhattan perpetual struggle,
Syria's,
Athens',
Perhaps even tomorrow's utopia.
When does the glad hand of deception disappear
The reach of power's greed meet its end?
To talk,
To negotiate,
To be human,
Some believe
Remains futility's endowment.
Never perhaps an epiphanies’ platform,
But fire escapes, stairwells and rooftops around the world
Will always afford relief for the moment,
Trusting someday
There will be
No need
For such painful dreaming…
Such desperate escapes.
"Beauty Escapes"
by: Eric L. Boddie
Things about you ignite the deepest desire
Because your frame is like a flame, hotter than the sun's fire
Youthful sexiness trapped in Beautiful bliss
A mere glance into your eyes makes you too hard to resist
Envied by woman....coveted by man
Your body is the destination where every eye wants to land
Sensually curved by The Creator's Blueprint
Purity in your heart confirming what Heaven Sent
Held by Beauty's embrace while sexiness runs wild
With luscious lips that should be kissed like it's going out of style
And truly lickable toes provide the foundation for this scene
My only question, "How did you ever escape my dream?"
A little bit before the usual time
My mind dawned in spite of the short time dozed
I didn’t even plan to have it as I have
But least known to my thoughts
Today was the day long destined by fate to be mine
A few minutes passed as current affairs sipped into my mind
Then somehow a pen found its way to my hand and with it I jotted the recipes
That was a few minutes to four a.m.
Least known to me the journey had begun
By the time my mind had emptied the facts on paper
I saw clearly that I couldn’t be a moment late
Yesterday my horoscope warned me against Sagittarius’ cautious ways
Since today seemed to be the day
I decided to let my carelessness spirit me away
Events driven frantically by rampaging heartbeats
Moments devoured hastily by anticipating anxieties
Scenery changed as did the imagery
And as magic would have it, here I now am
In a reality hundreds of miles away from yesterday’s realities
Seated on a bed in a cheap yet comfy boarding room
Planning, plotting, anticipating the beauty and liberties of a new reality
Today I feel free
Today I thank my spirit for driving me to this bliss
Today I seize the opportunity to crystallize my dreams
I am in the wake of my destiny
And for that I indeed do believe divinity endows me
Tomorrow I hope to be led to the nest where my dreams shall be hatched
Today the eagle brood over by a chicken
Has escaped the meagre chicken pen to the beauty of freedom
Today the eagle is soaring free in the sky where it belongs
The sky where the spirits of achievements are high
Today I feel the wind soothe the muscles beneath my wings
Today I feel the strength of my feathers
I have hope! I believe even more in my dreams
Today has washed away all my past sorrows
Today I forever bar away yesterday’s pains
And only usher in the joys of tomorrow
Today and the many today’s that shall follow
I shall live as only I can
Finally, my time to live has come
And to live I shall, only in the greatest way I can
Finally, I am glad to be a part of the heavens I used to see above
Finally, I’m rid of the worries those contented to be on the dust have
Finally, I’ve risen to earn my rights
Finally, I can honestly thank and say I’m glad
Behind the sun, with a little bit of assuredness, I saw the shades of his smile
swing toward the moon...
and I cursed six p.m. In a voice that hid the memories of
nineteen~ninety~two
when I wore my shoes underneath the shadows of stars and in the feel of his lips
when sixteen is innocent despite the cold exposure
of skin.
I wonder if he knows I whisper to him in his sleep, my promises slipping underneath the
blanket he holds tight around him,
and feathers escape pillowcases when I laugh,
they tickle toes and dissolve the taste of fear
as my tongue finds the outline of his lips after the sun falls down and his
smile
is apparent.
I tidy myself up on Mondays, and wreck the idea of perfection with my curls...
I wear jeans that smudge mountains across back pockets and imagine how the hem of my
burgandy dress would fall across chilled creek splashed rocks,
I wonder if I'd be able to stay pretty when my hands fall into mud and the wind attacks my
cheeks...
but he smiles, you see, when the sun falls...
he smiles when I change my clothes...
and he kisses me when my curls detest reality and Monday smirks at the idea of cleanliness
as my imagination drowns hems and rips fabric.
So I kick off my shoes with the idea that my toes can taste Tuesday and my feet can squash
the memories of
nineteen~ninety~two
and revel in innocence as I discover
the cold exposure
of skin.
In our home town of winter wonderland
we tightened love, snow and sunshine ray
we built a snowman with twigs at hand
and booted up eagerly ready to upstand
up and down we jumped happy and gay
in our home town of winter wonderland
cheeks got rosy skin got sunny tanned
as we build tunnels, we got lost at play
it was Montreal our Patriotic Homeland
when the winter carnival days did land
aside joyful and happy February days
in our home town of winter wonderland
every child and dog came out to band
with sleek toboggan rides we seized the day
no , you didn't have to take us by the hand
when it came to fun we took a stand
learning to love the winter blues away
in our home town of winter wonderland
we built a snowman with twigs at hand
July 10, 2020
Levity escapes me as the sun fades
Long shadows reach out to join in darkness
Silence gives way to a humming moonrise
Stealthy scents tempt predatory patience
Red eyes gaze into hungers haunting need
Soft feet muffle the presence of the prey
The subtlety of motionless movement
Awaiting the starters pistol of fear
Moonlight bathes the edges in silvery blue
A painter’s trick to lure you to its trap
Hold you in its masquerade of now
The brushstrokes of darkness counting coup
A dream escapes my
grasp of time,
I float, I float, I float blind.
Through kaleidoscope
scars I bear,
my fears mingle with
rattlesnake snares,
and ticking, spinning
clockworks chime and chime,
like death’s rasp, and repetitious
rhyme.
I’ll lend you these thoughts:
I keep them in a glass vile,
and I’ll wait for the best
moment to
shatter.
They’ll then ponder over
the matter,
as if they were sadder!
And say,
“What an accident, she was forgotten!”
But I dream, I dream of the dead.
Their dark whispers haunt
my books.
And I want to give them looks,
I want to tell them I feel.
And that I too see in hues
of vivid memory.
They hang from older buildings
To provide a way to flee
From a fire or another type
Of grim catastrophe.
“West Side Story’s” hero, Tony,
(Just like Romeo) did vouch
To Maria all his love
While on one’s surface she did crouch.
Countless films and TV dramas
Often use one as a base
For a criminal to exit
While the cops are giving chase.
In real life, I’ve never seen one
Used to hasten a descent.
Modern buildings now use stairways
Made of fire-proof cement.
Though necessity requires
Things to change, it seems a pity
That these structures soon will vanish,
Once a staple of the city.
i wish i could write a poem utilizing symbolism
it escapes me
it escapes me amidst the din
it escapes me amidst the clamor
it escapes me against racing bipolar mind
racing thoughts of self esteem
of crushing sense of sensibility
of world feeling crushed
i wish i could write all these things
i wish i could write like lorca
lorca escapes me
whitman escapes me
neruda escapes me
all i have left is me.
Old Madame Claus was thoroughly tired and bored.
Even on Christmas Eve, she was at the board.
That fat old Santa expected her to scrub floors,
So, for her best sexy dress, she searched her stores.
She went to the barn where Rudolph was sleeping
"Get out there, you lazy deer and stop weeping,
We're going for a drive, and stop simpering.
Get the sleigh, warm attire, and stop whimpering.
Rudolph followed his nose and flew to the towns.
Folks wandered through the markets, all in gowns.
All saw Rudolph and Madame Claus eating cakes.
Both drove back to the North, Rudolph full of aches.