Best Flashlights Poems
My Inventory:
flashlights
high-performance yo-yo
poetry books
fishing poles
ice-fishing hut
regret
pocket knife
sharpening stones
laughter
boomerangs
passwords
life's artifacts
Grandpa's Fishing Hat
hope and joy
Guardian Angel
wooden snow-sleds
more poetry books
olde-tyme-radios
compassion
camping gear
Babar, the Stuffed-Elephant
Angel-in-a-basket
imagination
McCoy Cookie Jars
nature field-guides
forgiveness
Soup-friends
ties I don't wear
family heirloom recipes
suits I try not to wear
treasured photographs
170 poems
antique lamps
my Children's love
......and You
my Savior
....... Jesus Christ
Some things never skip beyond recollection,
instead, they hover in a secret closet of memories -
innocent moments when we had stopped to sniff...
both roses and skunk cabbage
just to find out how they earned their names
not sure who won
Too wimpy to become true blood brothers cuz no one
wanted to prick their finger first
Mom took away the broken antenna arms we used
as "Zorro" swords - thanks Mom, we can see better now
Out chasing fireflies - tripping through the dark
chasing light or
the backyard "tent out"...late and laughing over something
totally silly, as flashlights fought like Flash Gordon on
the tent ceiling
and parents looked out wishing they were ten again
as we do now...
Since childhood,
as alexithymia struck my soul.
I kept all my hopes a secret,
hidden in a bucket of unshared dreams.
I kept my soul sweet like marshmallows,
but life has finally caught up with me,
Like a fast car overtaking recklessly,
leaving me behind in the slow lane -
and I'm running out of fuel.
I'm a vehicle of flashbacks from flashlights,
fatigued from embracing the old,
preparing for freshly brewed emotions.
Yet they deprive me at every dawn,
as new beginnings are always challenging.
Suffocating in this silent selcouth slumber,
life tries to call my bluff, when it knows,
I am the master of my masquerade.
My soul pleads with fate to usher me with belief,
but I can see death at my doorstep,
creating intrusive insecurities like termites,
eating away at branches of my sanity,
feeding upon my ordained Orphic glory.
Emotions are an interior mechanism,
so many remain fooled by my exterior,
but I'm tired of searching for salvation.
You who claim to love me,
gift me a scented candle made with your hands,
so its sentimental scent can bring me peace.
Take me to a place without a name,
without a label,
without judgment -
without suffering.
Unchain me from jeapordising January jitters.
Free me from meandering in misty meadows,
which have misplaced me in foggy morning sunshine -
bring me clarity.
These are not random thoughts, random poems,
because my ink is tired from trying to find new metaphors,
to supplement an abundance of alliterations,
portraying humble happy horizons.
Love can be a false emotion,
when we yearn for reciprocal ravishing redamancy,
but when was love ever equal or even fair?
I have no resolutions, just to breathe with ease.
Sometimes love's presence made me feel aesthetic,
but sometimes a badly drawn self portrait.
You can stay or leave, but do come back,
hold on, but not too tight that it chains my wings.
When I ascend, please, miss me,
so my spirit flies back to you.
Can you not see the irony?
We accumulate many reasons to die,
but search for only one reason to live.
Ask yourself which oxymoron are you?
Dying to live or living to die?
*Alexithymia
A person's inability to recognise or describe ones own emotions
* Redamancy
a love returned in full; an act of loving the one who loves you; the act of loving in return
T i m e stops for no one,
as searing seconds swerve
through seasonal squalls,
thawing frost that sleeps upon
the necks of onyx roses,
where pain is etched in skeletal sins~
across pruned plumes,
fleeting through amethyst air,
merged in changing frequencies
of wind and waves,
carrying ballads of a bruised bluebird.
But I have long known grief,
and I’ve tasted the bittersweet
cocktails of life and love.
I am s i l e n c e,
swirling amidst the wheels
of dusk and dawn,
like the unseen flares
of blazing boulevards,
for I am made from ashes of steel,
strong to the eyes
that see not beyond bleeding sighs.
I waltz faster than
my fears can grasp,
the obsidian t e a r s of petals,
leaving each abstract sunset
sketched in acrylics
on murky meadows,
thriving with grieving geraniums.
O beloved moon,
I see lakes of Elysium
through the chained windows
of my tortured tower.
I breathe against the
crystalline concoctions
composed from the ink
of curved constellations,
erasing kismet calligraphies,
cluttered with chaotic conclusions,
sailing toward an astrological sphere,
where colors of love
run free against
the gravity of diabolical dust,
designed on rings of rust.
So let me save the twilight sage,
before the last drop of wintry rage
is no longer tamed by the
treacherous tongue of fate,
for I am armored against
the demonic drumrolls,
luring the splitting sea-surge
to a bioluminescent shore
where Lucifer’s footsteps linger,
caressing the edges of snakeskin,
mimicking merciless mantras
of Medusa melodies,
orchestrated in seething strings,
oblivious to the t r u t h
that I am more than
a wounded warrior,
dressed in whimsical wisterias.
I’ve learned to let go
of every faltering feather,
that blinded me,
pushing my patience
into a labyrinth of tilted tulips,
tainted with twisted tones
and hues of hypocrisy.
Remember,
I am more than the splitting paranoia,
running through corridors of uncertainty,
I am flashlights in the monsoon sky~
emanating petrichor pastels
upon nocturnal nightingales,
singing without words,
dreaming amidst trickling chords.
~ and this is the truth of trembling t i m e
that halts not for the sleeping supernovas ~
This is who I am
My name is Stanislaus J. O’Connor
Born on April 17th in Belfast, Ireland
Youngest of eight children
My father admired the Polish people
The way they fought
During the last Great War
When the odds were against them
Wanted me to be strong
Like them
So he named me Stanislaus.
I carried that name
Not without some teasing
Took it in stride
Solidarity came along
Organized by Polish dock workers in the 1980’s
Ended Communist rule
Father remembered stories
Of 1910
When ten thousand dock workers went on strike
Closed Belfast down
Taught the Brits a lesson.
Young, unemployed and drunk
I saw an artist friend of mine
He worked on me all day
Not stopping except to wipe the drippings on my back
I felt no particular pain
Jut laid there flat on my stomach
Waiting
When it was over
I had the color and imagery
From the tattoo
Of a Polish Cross.
Listened to the people
Took to the streets
In the struggle
Against the Brits
One night
Strangers jumped out of the shadows
Put flashlights to my eyes
Stood me up
Led me out
In handcuffs.
At HM Prison Maze I was kept in a small cell
Occasionally let out to walk in the prison yard
One summer afternoon
I took off my shirt
Paddy asked me what’s that on your back
Polish Cross I said
Murmur of voices
Fellow inmates hesitated
Someone near the wall broke the silence,
“Let him be. God is in every cross.”
In despair a cell mate said he couldn’t take it anymore
Afraid that he would die in prison
Recalling words
From an old Catholic catechism
I said
“No man can learn what his heart cannot hold“.
I made up the rest
“Tell God what you stand for
He’ll understand
And forgive you.”
Ten years later
Dragged from my cell
Feet barely touching ground
I was released on amnesty.
Coming home
Family met me
Open arms
Some traveled from faraway
Felt good
To touch warm hands
Climbed to the top of Cavehill
Seagulls
Glide in lazy circles
Twelve hundred feet above sea level
Overlooking Belfast
From its heights
The world can be seen
Across a wind swept ocean of dark memories
Of what once was
My youth.
A predawn hike with flashlights to the top of
Diamond Head, a little less than a mile
In and out of lava formation to
An elevation of about 600 feet...
My anticipation fades to concentration
On keeping pace and breathing.
Nearing the top, adrenalin meets excitement.
Dark of night clears to soft daylight. I
Hear the words, "Rarely have we seen..."
Echo. From the colorless world of
Addiction to this vast brilliant and vivid
Display of sunrise is humbling. A
Soft breeze seems to push pillow clouds
Under an azure cover, carrying re-
Newed hope from our sunrise meeting for
Recovery into this breathtaking world...
Into this day... to possibly help someone
Suffering. For today and this experience, I am
Eternally grateful.
July 21, 2018
*"Rarely have we seen..." from Alcoholics Anonymous Literature, 'How It Works'.
August 2, 2018 - Dusk or Dawn Contest by Emile Pinet
N/A
Light, defined as electromagnet,
radiation; photon particles
Natural visible light: with intensity, and frequency
Light wavelength spectrum / polarization propagation
People pleasure and preen at the beach with sunny sun tanning
Sunlight illuminates Mountain trails for bicycling and trekking
Sunsets have lavender with orange bright beams extending
Solar sunrays light a day of picnic park fun with joyful frolicking
Some of the light spectrum is radio, white light, ultraviolet and x-rays
Infrared is only heat visible and gamma-rays are the most powerful
Small lasers are used in disk drives, printers, and fiber-optics
Fiber-optic networks is light fast digital information system
TV plasma, liquid crystal displays, LEDs light-emitting diodes gives visuals
These assist our everyday visual optic neural perceptions
Cars have headlights and ships use fog-lights
Light-towers have flood-lights and we use handy flashlights
Tesla and Edison partook in the light bulb’s invention
Lewis Latimer and Joseph Nichol invented its carbon filament
This did dispel much of the world’s nighttime darkness
Lightning lights reveal a charge of the negative and positive
Colors of violet, blue, green, yellow, orange, red: are in white light
Some colors viewed when seeing a rainbow over a dewy meadow
What can be possibly seen at the other end of a rainbow
This but to note God’s faithful abatement covenant
Starlight is continually being reflected and refracted
Earth and the Heavens is lit up by starry Star Lights
Great Stars round and renowned, in balance and equilibrium
They are fiery fireballs very luminous and bright
Stars dispersing their photon particles at light speed
"Light speed, “299,792,458 meters per second"
Light, is a part of the equation “E=MC squared”
“Energy,” not made, nor annihilated, yet always in flux
"Natures life sustaining and revealing light, "Light Particle"
The screech of claws scratching against my window,
The flickering beams of flashlights reflect into my haunted eyes,
The shivers creep down my spine with feeling of endless fear,
The sound of footsteps in darkness; so cold at night,
The hours become continuous as I begin to panic,
The eery surroundings find its target,
The blood poors heavily as I watch suffering pain,
The stains of deaths medallion forever lays;
upon the victims pillow.
Form:
*This one is for Tom Cunningham
Poor Santa ate too many treats
Then clogged the toilet at the pole
The sewer exploded into the streets
Where Santa fell down a hole!
The Elves are trying to get him out
The Grinch is laughing in glee
All Santa can do is shout
It’s too dark for them to see!
Let’s hope they find Rudolph’s bright nose
Flashlights aren’t bright enough
I heard pipes have also froze
And well, presents are covered with stuff!
It should be breaking news soon
Maybe keep children away from TV
Take them out to see the moon
For something else to see!
Prayers for Santa’s return and relief
7 days yet, to make things right
Keep up celebrating with belief
And to all a very good night!
Heidi Sands
12/18/22
Hurricanes Up Close And Personal
As of this writing, Florence is intensifying and threatening the shores of the Carolinas. She is dangerous, even in her early stages and may pattern herself after Katrina or Irma. Should she do so, the candles, oil lamps, flashlights, matches, and other essential items will be in great demand. Do your shopping early lest you be caught unawares. Evacuate if directed and do not adopt the attitude that you will be okay if you stay. Drowning men grasp at straws, but drown nevertheless. How long can you stay afloat? Don't be like the man who refused help from others by saying "God will take care of me". He ignored the boat who stopped by, and a helicopter that hovered above him and he perished in the storm. When he reached the Pearly Gate, he queried God as to why He failed to spare him. God's answer was, "you missed the boat", "and the helicopter I sent". So, I ask the question again --- "How long can you stay afloat?"
8 September 2018
For the contest sponsored by Sara Kendrick
Picture No. 4
Flying in twilight like
fairies bearing tiny
flashlights which constantly
flicker on and off, this
family of bugs are
factually beetles -
fascinating to me!
The Day the Lights Went Out
The coffee was cold,
The clock was “old,”
The dog was confused
In semi-dark.
The quiet was quieter,
More like silent,
No news to be heard,
Did I remember to charge the cell?
No information yet
Just have to wait,
Can’t see to read,
Just sit and fret.
Neighbors begin to fill the streets,
Offering help to each other,
Carrying phones to charging stations,
Bringing back some burgers.
And so went the day from dark to light,
And anxiety will it be into the night,
The heat increasing with each daylight hour,
With a taste of dependence – faces dour!
Then put back the flashlights, the lights have buzzed on,
And humbled to find we’re not so smart after all,
Knowing enough to depend on inventions,
Only to find we need others’ kind intentions.
The Day the Lights Went Out
Batten down the hatches –
A storm is on its way.
Don’t know when it’s comin’
Or how long it’s gonna stay.
Every market’s crowded –
People gathering supplies.
No one wants to be caught short
Or taken by surprise.
Plans are being canceled,
Dates all rearranged –
Phones and laptops busy as
New info is exchanged.
We’re ready for the tempest –
We’ve got flashlights, candles, matches.
I’m prepared to do some battening,
But what the hell are hatches?
"Dia de Los Muertos", the Spanish name it. Eve
of All Saints, saw we of the church of blessed assurance
of an observance ushering in fall while easing
our multilingual obsession with death. The sun shines
on unmarked graves, and, "Come winter the same
snow falls, dusting us all," so it is said, and so
honored at The Dollar Tree Store.
Weeks before Halloween, when punctilious roadside tents
fill with demonic orange grins, when what the French
call The Season of Color with its 'sturm und drang' roars
in, I push past the doors of The Dollar Tree. No
automatic entry ushers us in, no Pearly Gates swing
wide to celestial Muzak. We come to purchase the needs
of the living-- tinfoil, plastic bags, detergent: a limpid purple
liquid with its cautionary "Do Not Drink," its "Fragrancia
Duradera." Longevity, one dollar a bottle.
Shelves of seasonal gimcracks stack up at the entrance.
"Adornes" in your face, useless for extending time:
crows with real feathers, spectral spider webs, glittery
black skulls, mockup tombstones inscribed "Rest in
Pieces"--Do Not Disturb-- Don't Laugh, You're Next.
I laugh, anyway. Comics know reality is funny.
All Hallows Eve a year ago, our parish priest
stood in cemetery darkness at a rude stone altar,
celebrating Mass at Bosque Bello, our Beautiful Forest
of flashlights and luminaries. There among graves
of the known and unknown, we broke bread and
shared the cup of blood, there, where the blessed dead
settle deep in their shoe-boxes, and the not-yet-
unmasked confront certain demise.
Oh my!
Halloween night
Of fun and spooky fright
Moonlight creating flickering
Shadows
Children
Quite elated
Trick-or-treating with friends
Who’s creepiest with make-up and
Costumes
Evening
Getting cooler
Night is getting darker
Children walking with bright flashlights
Chilling
Goblins,
Haunted houses,
Black cats, witches on brooms,
Owls hoot, bats silhouette the moon
Eerie!
Carved out
Spooky pumpkins
Glowing flickering eyes
Watch out for small ghost and goblins
Door sign
Grumpy
Children to bed
Sick with crampy tummies
Halloween candy hangover
Nightmares
10/17/2015
Children Story
My parents didn’t celebrate Halloween so I didn’t have the pleasure of the fun ... I always made my boys their costumes and painted their faces. When Halloween evening came around my friends and I would walk our children around the safe neighbor hoods.
They used to have so much fun.