Best Exhumes Poems
Ash - grey chemised
she shifts her shape
as silver flakes float coat
stripped naked places,
sheath curves and angled spaces
Angry glitter tingle stings
thick earth skin with prickly flames
and rumble rise regurgitates
shimmy - shake shudders
in magma's deep thrombosis.
Her feather boa plume
tightens hot cloud chokehold,
acrid smoke flung up in air
without a care, heat exhumes
her arrival, announced fiery flounce -
Hot air blast flicks ash everywhere
Grande dame, her vital force runs hot,
and bold, red and gold- full blooded flow,
feisty fight to escape fate,
inner pulses push a violent urge
to bleed and drape red lava's cape
across green fields, human habitations
Unplacated, rising up, proud impairment
anger virulent, out of hellbent
immolation via pyramidal vent.
She lifts her tiara, red ruby globs,
hurls evidence in defense - great blobs
of royal reign - no abdication!
Throaty roars rend intonation
into screeching supplications -
She knows full well, soon enough,
her phoenix fate infarction
Too late for earth's burst heart
High drama is a living, dying art
Impassioned pleas too late for some,
Earth's burnout buries victims in her wake
High on an island hill,
the boy lay crushed, and still
on temple altar, throat cut, bled out
Hurried offering, did not appease,
nor bring softening release
for angry, ancient mountain
Head caved in by falling blocks
of measured, square cut stone,
the priest grovelled on his knees
Gravel filled their mouths, no space for pleas
No one heard half- whispered final groans
And Earth, once she settled down,
murmured not another sound
Posted 17/08/2018.
Writing poetry can be therapeutic
It's fun
It's caring
It's inspirational
It's emotional
And when one writes from the heart
It spills effortlessly onto the page
Hoping to inspire and steal the hearts of poetry lovers
Because when poetry comes from the heart
It reaches the crescendo of its beauty
Sharing delicate rhymes with splendid
eloquence
Proving to all
That true beauty resides within the heart
The poet exhumes the deepest
of fantasies, love and adoration
Enticing the reader to taste the deliciousness of each word
It's a joy to write something that can put a smile in a poetry lover's heart
From my heart to your heart
Collaboration with Edward McCall
9-6-17
Taking a little time out... God bless soup friends and thank you all for your support and kindness, I am forever grateful! Smile :)
The gentle rain that falls
and trickles down the walls
of gardens in the park
and wakes the Meadow Lark,
refreshes crocus blooms
as all of life exhumes.
What joy the season brings
with coming of the Spring.
March 14, 2020
I fight
a battle against tempestuous wind
fury the earth’s ablaze in feverish sky
and I survivor
search for home
through singed lenses
starved for one love
(little girl dreams never die)
I lean into hell's breath feel its fury
stems bend determined to give
the tempest an offering
petal by petal
golden flights of favor
I lose my phantom limbs
praise a fleeting feeling grief (sweet relief)
freedom unburdening
I mark my trails with tears
soldiers unfurl (I am one)
ready to charge
solid gold into
blazing, wind-beaten sky
wisps of fragility beautify hostile views
over my shoulder
golden crests of hope
unbreakable stems strengthen
blue skies tinged heave and hurl
a fantasy of
cotton white clouds in peaceful sleep
It’s all I see my armor
my lily-white peace
In battle a faceless enemy
exhumes victim’s scarred bodies
I stand unyielding ready to find hope in tears lost
I believe what doesn’t kill me
feeds my soul
pours from my pen
Fury visits from a long gone past
hateful words fuel resentment
until forgiveness flickers -
a soft light within catches fire
still, stormy nights deepen terror
sucks me back into
blusters of memory
between mire and soiled sky
A wildflower’s spirit bends
(victim no more)
upon an unbreakable stem
(never surrender)
Fearless one of many golden-crests
Survivors are we
(for: them who are ever there!)
these branches and roots
that cord to the grave ancients
should be free from man’s swords!
both oracle and priest held for days …
I
Your voice speaks in the silence of the night
To the deep still shady earth
That once held a great zest for our childhood
Here in the once thick wooded land
Where progenitors strewed their rustic huts
Yes! where, sang tho’ unseen those sonorous kin-spirits.
2
Ah! Happy and keen folks were the ancients, then;
But their sons? what a sad lot, now! even
Demented hearts aching from those drinks of dizzy times
Raw anguish, sorrow, painful hemlocks of death-lines,
The slow songs that tune softly to the mirthful graves
That still hold the ancestors like prisoners in the wild caves.
3
O! for your unravished wave of primal welcome,
That bade the sonorous weaver come
To make loud greeting of blue azure with song-fleet
O! for such uudecoded song that for the sagging flesh bear ointment
Secret balm from the rhyming unsteady palm leaves of the winds
That flute clearly to ancestors those eternal silent songs.
4
Known are those festal spirits of your night
From whom many lives readily spring forth:
Mused thru’ the voices of strong mortal compeers –
Priests, priestesses, praise-singers, warriors, dancers!
That with gusto, flounder across the space of time;
O, for those festal moments of flush! o, for the celestial clime!
5
You are the unseen bridge of the world,
Like Nturukpa, that elder amongst our ferry trees;
Your bark exhumes the bright colours of the past;
And carried thru’ the festal wings of your night
We desire to be mused to the ethereal clime;
Of uncurbed equanimity and euphoria of the divine.
6
I now know the anguish of these festal spirits
Who take refuge on the water-void banks
Of the topmost branches and leaves;
I now know the noise of their feasts in sacrifices:
Doleful sacrifices in the gods’ swollen foot!
Then adieu! adieu! from the cloyed humans in advent!
7
O farewell! with all your festal spirits,
Who coaxed to the night of sacrifices, priests,
Priestesses, dancers, praise-singers, warriors of the land;
Adieu! with these cold celebrations and coax-throated songs heard,
Thru’ the voice and echoes of rain’s thunder,
In the day of the panther and his noble twin, the hunter.
I think that I shall never see
a beast as loathsome as a flea.
A flea whose hungry mouth consumes
all the blood that it exhumes.
A flea that gets into my hair
and makes me scratch 'til I am bare.
A flea that makes me itch all day
and irritates in every way.
Upon whose head curses we rain;
whose biting we have scratched in vain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
but God should not have made the flea.
Trumpet the ethos of these wading warriors with the hollowed bones
of their panygeric prophets,resonating triumphant tones,
to forever honor,protect,& perpetuate the valor,virtue,& victory of this Holy Order,
the irridescent echo seeps from their Father's tombs,
for what extent shall I blaze myself and minions in the arrows path,
so to coddle an intangible hope made of a prayer's dope,
or in a mind where a prevailing vision roams,
nay, to avert that macbre nightmare of having my People's progeny becoming the pigmy
of a teething tyrant who condones the perversion of civilization's tomes,
a coalesced consciousness consummated by the last bastion
with a vigorous vigil on this Christmas Eve,
solemn and sacramental the emotion is which this of our hearts
the Almighty exhumes,
A dispatched soldier ploying as scout,remote, waiting ignorantly to be smote,
a far but not forgotten armored satellite being selfless,
his vanity enemy's threat consumes,
an unbridled but composed offensive of a triplicate terror delivered
by an indefatigable knight ,
an ultimatum presented simply but also strictly,
one at least his assault maroons,
J.A.B. - Part Four -
will i ever find a love?
a love my father failed of thought
a mother's love i never got.
a love with abundant craziness with right amount of holiness
a love which respects, aspects with complex in vertex
will i ever find a love?
a love which is a permanent compassion rather than a temporary obsession.
a love which is neither a temptation
Nor will never give me neglection
A love which turns my pressure into composure.
will i ever find a love?
a love that consumes me which doesn't exhumes thee
a love which make me less of resilient more of emollient
a love which provides me romance like in France without a glance
will i ever find a love?
a love that gives me what I deserve preferably not what it reserve
a love which is an artisry with ruthless honesty and shameless constancy
a love books taught me which dwell, swells and expels reality
Finally will i ever find a love?
a love which is timeless turns me fearless
A love which accepts my flaws without shoving claws
a love that exists and exhibits
not exits
Each night, while you lay breathing quietly,
I wander like a wraith through empty rooms
A phantom in both life and memory,
the ghost a long abandoned oath exhumes
I hover like a spirit over you
each night, while you lay breathing quietly,
so desperate to believe what isn't true,
I make the best of ambiguity
This specter in the mirror isn't me
These lines belong on someone elses face
Each night, while you lay breathing quietly,
it's loneliness that holds me in your place
My worth so long defined by your extremes;
extolled by love, or birched by perfidy,
I find it's just the first that haunts my dreams
each night, while you lay breathing quietly
Black dress,
The fortitude of color put to the test,
By the cacophony of incessant pests,
Preying upon a perfect cylinder under duress,
Unaware of the heart right under her chest,
Suffocated by her skin she exhumes without her behest,
An anamorphic monster that claimed violence was best,
To silence the swarm of insects that made her mind their nest,
So she grabbed a scalpel and made a mess,
All over her black dress.
You say you love me, but your love's untrue
I do not feel it in the things you do
and when you say it, coupled with a "kiss"
the searing heat of passion's what I miss
You say you love me, but I am alone
Such loneliness to you might be unknown,
and even when you're near, you're far away.
I cannot reach your heart with what I say.
You say you love me, but your eyes tell lies
I see a look that does not idolize
The windows to your soul are curtained now
I cannot see inside; I don't know how.
You say you love me, but your arms deny
to comfort and caress me when I cry
At times when storms let lose torrents of pain,
a shelter in your love I cannot gain.
You say you love me, but it can't be real
A lukewarm sentiment is all you feel
For love's inferno licks with flames so hot
I tell you now, all this your love is not
I want a love that sweeps my heart away
that makes me crave your presence night and day
I want a love that loves the worst in me
A love that binds my soul though body's free
I want a love that melts in its embrace
that testifies its presence in a face
I want a love as fierce warrior's will
A love that quiets fear, makes madness still
I want a love that all my thoughts consumes
A love that dreams in buried heart exhumes
I want, I crave, I covet love that feeds
That satiates my soul, fulfills my needs
You promised me a love that lasts all time
A love like that you have, but it's not mine
I get the crumbs while others get the feast
For lack of such a love my heart's deceased.
Eileen Manassian
Am I Afraid of Real Love?
Butterflies fluttering in your stomach
The continuous smile that never seems to fade
Or the pure joy that exhumes every aspect of your life and mind
That little extra “kick” in your step that keeps you flying high through the day
The sleepless nights of wanting to just look into their eyes
To feel their breath upon your neck as they hold you close to them like a parent holds their child safely in their arms
Their touch, their kiss, their hands in yours…
The boughs of timeless laughter and the midnight talks
The one person you can tell your troubles or past to without judgement
Mid-day texts of a funny quote or a simple “hello” that immediately brings a smile to your face
Walks in the park, holding hands without a care in the world
When you just look across the room and your eyes catch each other’s….and then you smile
Your little pet names and funny quotes that only you two are aware that exists
Sleepovers that turn into a couple of days then discussions of moving in together
The one person who utterly understands every aspect about you and your world
With one look, they know if your upset or when you are truly happy
Or having the calmness of knowing you both have respect and trust with one another
Discussions of future travels and where “We” are going to visit and explore
The one individual that you can never dream of living without
Time and space can never remove the love that you both have developed and nourished
It has become a living presence so strong that nothing could erase the mark it has created within each of your lives
They can read your mind without you saying nothing at all
Over time, they turn into your everything
The thoughts of anyone else in your current or future life, starts to slowly fade away
As this person is placed in your lifetime “Selfie” picture for the social universe to see
Am I afraid of real love?
No, I am afraid of never finding real love…..
Tammy Bowers Copyright © 2021
LONELINESS
muted sound of TV creeping through
emaciated walls
thoughts reflecting drift distancing
solitudes seclusion
choosing to fade the day away in
reclusive isolation
I contemplate our separate lives
your wrecking ball in rage survives
bury all love in faded world-weary
worn- out dreams
ambiguously vague swallowing
alcohol
doubt exhumes diamonds in the dirt
of neat rows
I contemplate our separate lives
your wrecking ball in rage survives
slowly buried under all these
words and lines
hiding and healing hollow void
empty spaces
muted voice of numbed emotion
emaciated falls
I contemplate our separate lives
your wrecking ball in rage survive
© Kim van Breda—5 August 2014
Tongue soaked in tasty red
Painful water; it blots the bed
Vampires are at feast
Doom strikes whoever sucks least
Bursted veins, brawled roars
Shattered windows paving soars
Of beasts; two dead couples lays
Tickling death in its night rays
Hunger exhumes lost appetites
Like woods to termites
Carcasses left for vultures
It was a night of less surfeit pleasures!
Freedom from thought forms that anchor
Exhumes fear and desire
Bereft then of lust and rancour
We reclaim our soul’s fire
When thoughts cease, ego dies
Love takes us to new highs
Enabling rapture rise
Be thou self-taught
Freedom from thought
19-February-2023
Quietus