Best Fastening Poems
Fastening my grip on you, throwing my head up high
Where colours fight in sunlight bright enough to blind me
Vortices, one after another, dizzyingly
maelstroms of words disappear unspoken
Will they drown me
those waves, will they drown me
can I come up and breathe again?
can I hold on and survive?
Waves
riding the board with you
blue sky opens to warm glow of the sunlight
from where I am the shore is near
I relax, while you steer
small waves rippling lulling me to sleep
***
August 22, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Looking through the window of a shop,
I see you with a woman.
She lifts long auburn hair
while you, who stand behind her,
are fastening a strand of pearls
around her slender neck.
I close my eyes envisioning. . .
I've opened them to you
facing me,
and I'm the woman
with the red-brown locks!
You touch my cheek, and in your eyes
I read an urgent need.
You lead me to the door,
around the corner to an empty alley.
Our bodies press together.
In the chill of night,
I taste warm, wild kisses on my mouth.
"Darling, my darling," escapes my lips,
then suddenly my reverie is broken. . . .
A passerby has stopped
to place a dollar in my cup.
Murmuring my thanks,
I gaze once more into the store
where diamond rings and necklaces glitter
like new snow beneath a winter moon.
The man whom I could know
only in a different life,
who stands inside the store
where I could never go,
takes his sweetheart's hand
and leads her past me
pretending not to see
a common homeless woman
who yearns for so much more
than mere necessities.
For the Seeker's Being Homeless Poetry Contest
She walks in beauty
Following the above silver rays
Her hope fastening with some alacrity
Feathers of smile gently sways
Between stardust accompany to ignite
The clear darkness of her walking lane
From distant heaven echoes her docile gait,
Convivial fairies salute her when pace wane,
Lull solitude with half soul comes to meet her
To revel the moment of whilst gather once
She embraces below chiliad of the stars
Kiss the moonlight and beg for morrow bunce
Again she follows back the silverware gleam
And she walks in beauty into her pleased beam.
Copyright © Dawa Zangpo | Year Posted 26/08/2018.
As a pilgrim* in this enigmatic world
granted freedom for wondrous exploration
I’ll journey along life’s varied avenues, or highways
cognizant of rough roads, valleys, and even hills to trek
trusting my God, the perfect Guide toward streets of gold.
My soul I’ll yield with submission
for triumphant driving of the Holy Spirit’s power
maneuvered by clear directions for kindness' gesture
while consulting the Scriptures, divine compass and map
pleading the Lord to help me overcome the wanderer’s snares.
I’ll fly with Christ in my goals
achieving for His glory and honour
fastening my desires to His sovereign purpose
soaring above earthly gains to seek what’s eternal
propelled by His guidance to rise above clouds of doubt’s turbulence.
Sailing against tempests
I’ll travel with my faith’s Captain, Jesus
anchored upon His steadfast truth and love
fighting selfishness-piracy; winning over apathy
for worthy reaching-out voyage, indeed blissfully blessed.
Midst pilgrimage
toward the celestial
I'll enjoy sojourning moments
sharing compassion and peace of the Almighty
with fellow voyagers who seek to arrive well, hurdling rigorous trips.
*1Peter 2:11 Dearly beloved, I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul.
January 6, 2021
3rd place, "My Spiritual Journey" Premier Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker; judged on 1/10/2021.
Zealots are totally incapable of any emotion other than rage. It is an unalterable law that people who claim to care about the human race are utterly indifferent to the sufferings of individuals.
— Quentin Crisp
ZEALOTS
The raging machine, storms of zigzagging arrows, fueled by each word that bounces off the trampoline of their eardrums. A zealot sage, an oxymoronic knight, not a saint. Stained not with tears but billowing eyes and cheeks.
emotional wreck
concentrated on one theme
no deviation
The heave and the ho of heavy sacks. Teamwork in torrent. The zealot doesn’t stop to hear a prophet, except Simon. Simon will buzz in their ear about a diamond but the team has their eyes on the gold. With cold, strong hands, they sharpen their swords, meditating on the prize. They want to topsy-turvy, throw out the law, upturn the tables of dirty coins.
if one turned his head
a scene of perfect substance -
heals blind, deaf and dumb
Does the tyrant trump the zealot, or is power the point? Both explode. Not on their sides, you will be imprisoned or stomped out. Simple Simon was a zealot whose ears steared toward the Son of God.
Simon the Zealot
apostles known by their works
one’s tax collector
Zealots loose whilst hell’s hammer wills the fastening of cruel suffering. This innocent has the right approach to rid the world of tyrants though the chariots have not entered the course. The zealots would still be wielding their swords as the stone was kicked away in a powerful way.
Zealots have their way
the martyrs follow Christ’s way
Simon chose wisely
What if there was a passage way down to the ocean
Tucked away within the wall an eroded cave
Cool breeze always in motion as azure, Turquoise Ocean swirls
Breathing in deep reflecting a show of rainbow mist as waves break the cliff face
A cave perfect for a dining room full of stunning unremarkable furnishings
White cotton linens, accent with fresh-cut blooms, and small center table lamps
Pale turquoise ribbon fastening place settings and napkins
Dinnerware and dishes embossed shells and starfish dusted in sandy bronze
Swim in a sea of pale turquoise
Providing guest with genuine friendly, welcoming staff
Chef de cuisine creating a gourmet menu of incredibly fresh ocean delicacies
I'd call it " A Touch of Ocean Breeze"
Prices that everyone can afford;
Fried or
clams, stuff with c
Fried shrimp r
a
@ b
m
e
Salmon, Clam a
chowder, Tuna, t
Lobster
Oysters
Varity of wines
So much more
Pleasant and accommodating
You won’t be disappointed
9/28/2016
My imaginary restaurant - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
Unhooking the chain
I opened the rusty gates
to Olive Branch Cemetery
Hallowed ground of yesteryear
Peaceful as the name sounds.
There is a place of comfort sweet
Near to the heart of God
A place where we our Savior meet
Near to the heart of God
Like a white butterfly fluttering from
One headstone to another headstone
where sweet clover blossoms rested their heads
protecting the ancestors of long ago—
Stopping by each one
I gently touch and wonder
Standing on rolling hills of countryside
Six-foot tall or five-foot short
giants of the soil
English honest proud
farmers tilling the land
children by their side helping
with French heritage mother
who listened to the tears,
cooked meals, washed clothes
lesser than the men but carried on.
Walking in time thinking, then
Seeing it!
I lifted up Nancy Emily’s initialed stone
N E P lying on the ground
young farm girl no state aid
rocking her baby boy
For when my heart is troubled, filled with fear,
Jesus whispers peace
Young lad gladdening saddened family hearts.
I wonder her pain kept a secret
Until descendants began to unearth
digging deeper than her simple grave
Nancy Emily, rest well knowing
your descendants are bright and fruitful
healing the sick
teaching children
keeping the law
at home and afar raising children to become.
Whispering hope, O how welcome thy voice,
Making my heart in its sorrows rejoice
Oh! Family of long ago
toiling planting reaping caring
lying now on former fields
with mottled stones announcing your place.
N E P stands upright.
Feeling like a mighty oak tree
faithful and fulfilled,
I leave
fastening tight the rusty gates—
past secured for future
Holy Georgina
Mother of Regina
Pray for me in this sanctified arena
That I may escape your Hurricane Katrina
With your scintillating fingers around my oesophagus
How do I stop your wind and take a breather?
Maybe it was I that summoned the phoenix
From the ashes,
Granted!
I must have conjured your sleeping affection
And swung you to the realm of suffocating emotion,
Granted!
I must have tilled your wanting dry soil
And sailed you to wonderland with my toil,
Granted!
Yet, have I not evinced a crystal clear intention,
Through my dodging and parrying of your ignition,
That I defy your indiscriminate lucre demand
Or must I be blunt and outrageously spit out my reprimand?
In the morn…
You caressed me with a Circe-like embrace
That I might part with reason and pay your price
But I parried and escaped your cage.
In the noon…
You kissed my lips with the hips of the Sirens
That I might lose myself to your voyage as Odysseus
But I parried and escape your cage.
In the dead of the night…
You romanced my sleep as the trespassing succubus
That I might get scavenged by your nocturnal octopus
But I parried and escaped your cage.
Maybe…
My dangling diggy and the twin pendulum
Together with their fastening frenulum
That has rested in passivity for half a decade
Is the ultimate solace you seek in-between your bushy barricade
That you might rear a seed in my frenzied façade
While I reduce myself to a lifetime of regretful escapade.
Holy Georgina.
Mother of Regina
Pray for me in this sanctified arena
That I may escape your Hurricane Katrina.
Bolaji Ramos
copyright 2017
It is in the exquisite depth of your eyes
That I see a brave new world
I cannot help but melt into
The constellations of Essence
And soft innocence
Of your preciousness
Little child...
It is in the trusting grasp of your dimpled little hand
Around my finger
That I feel a connection so profound
A kindred fastening of souls
Yours and mine
Little child...
And when I fall into your beautiful smile
I am lost in Eternity's sunrise
In the warmth of a softly gilded sun
I feel the intoxication
Of your heavenly perfection
Little child of my heart
I love you
Strolling along the white sandy beach
Aquamarine waves lapping over my feet
A gentle breeze brushing against my skin
Billowy clouds hide a cerulean sky within
So I took a dive into the aquamarine sea
It's dark silky depths enclosing me
Swimming fiercely into the tides
Through the chartreuse seaweed I glide
A tangerine octopus smiles up at me
As sea lemons hide in the coral reef
Sea horses spin pieces of sea lavender
Through my green and ruby watermelon hair
Fastening saffron flowers about my neck
As I hover above a woeful shipwreck
Lips are shined with pale lilac shells
As above a summer wind swells
Always returning to where I belong
Casting spells as I sing my song
8/12/2017
Sponsored by: Dale Gregory Cozart
Seasonal Color - Couplet
"Mermaid"
It's the nature of the experiment
To be peeling off my autumn skin
In a gasoline waterlogged romance.
You can stay
If you want to.
We're pulling figures out of the way.
A fire in the hills
Is luring a crowd in
And the admission fee starts
Somewhere in the infinite.
The new years Tokyo Alliance
Has brought a bouquet
Of pharmaceutical pleasures
And I'm handing out
Needles and narcotics
In the opium den.
This brave new world
Sells sex for a dollar and
A penniless teenager
For even less.
And fast from the ground
Stands a Brazilian girl,
Fastening her garter belt
And smoothing her skirt
As she casts a virgin's suicide stone
Into the sounds of the sunrise.
Brownie broke her beak today
Purloining potted prawns
Despite Will’s whistled warning words
To only eat from lawns
But Brownie boldly battered
that toughened tin top jar
and broke her lovely beak in bits
she’d pushed her peck too far
but wily Will he had a way
to triumph testing trial
so searching for some Superglue
he produced a plastic phial
But Brownie fussed and fluttered
And Thang a tuneleth thong
Worried when Will wrapped it up
thseed thing her thong all wong
One dinky drop of adhesive
Fast fastening he found
Forever fixed his flailing foot
But stopped that thsquawking thound
The two invisible killers raised their knives,
To declare the mighty victor in their lives.
The first exclaimed people to their will,
And the other just made the kill.
The former smeared people to their range,
While the latter just made them change.
The skies called the world fastening,
When the living souls survived the hardening.
The little angels had to behold ,
Just like to follow what they were told.
The good had its battle gone ,
But the horrendous war was still on.
The evil smirked through its cheeks,
Hoping nothing would change for weeks.
The permanence saw its end buried in the lawn ,
And the strength on the weaker was born .
Happiness won the belittling war ,
Coming through the hardest like tar.
The sapiens never despised sorrow,
For all they wanted was a better tomorrow..
~Aparnaa
Lay back on the grass softly green,
Squint till sky is blue and hazy;
Spreading fingers feel now between,
Finding a small wild blue daisy.
Pluck the flower and give a twirl,
“Loves me or not”, the petals pluck;
Pretending I can’t count the swirl,
And the flower controls my luck.
Saddened the flower I discard,
Stretch my arms out above my head,
And sigh disappointment out loud.
Another flower pick unread.
Why waste the blooms on forlorn hope,
For a love that's not happening?
I gently pierce the stem like rope,
Thread the daisy through fastening.
A necklace chain I make to deck,
The one who only deserves the best;
And proudly sling around my neck,
The blue daisy chain cross my chest.
Mind often makes a circuitous pilgrimage
Sliding down and going up the banisters of time
As I hear the grating sound of worn stairs behind
Memories come darting in and out of shadows
From childhood’s flamboyant days
Mind scuttles between the past and the present
Skipping over the bliss of buoyant youth
To life’s present weary days and to the future
Life’s train has sadly changed its track
Years, like torn pages have flown away
But the frivolous inner child pines
Obstinately for all that once held dear
I remember having run over plains n’ paddy fields
Trying to cut across their widening margins
Brushing past brambles and thickets
To chase butterflies that came to molest the lovely blooms
How I went on a search to meet the winged seraphs
That I heard, sang in chorus in Heaven’s gilded halls
Looked for God, amid scurrying clouds,
To slay the ghosts, I believed, hidden in my closet
I remember my youth of squandered passions
When I scrawled love’s graffiti on my mind’s wall
And carried my beloved’s picture in my mind
So flawless that no artist could ever conspire to alter.
Now I constantly wage a losing battle
Against forces that threaten to take away my calm
All I see is pain, death and human suffering
And life sadly getting lost in meaningless strife
Age has burdened me with a deadly weight
Fastening chains on my once supple feet
All I pray is – Don’t let me be a burden to anyone
And give me a mindset to accept all that comes my way
--------------------------------
April.13. 2023
Open Poetry. 6. Poetry Contest
Sponsor. Charlotte Puddifoot