Best For Poems
**REFLECTION**
Running through a wheat dream
Clear skies, worms and flies, my face cries
Surrounded by silver streams
I stumbled into a valley where sleepness never dies
A manger on fire, burning embryo of lies
no time for final good-bye's
Waking up alone in the middle of a field
Rain falls from the sky, to bless my soul
Above the silver lining of mirrored clouds
I lay a bouquet of flowers on your grave
Angered by the thought of my birth
Where has my salvation gone?
Rescued by the hand, of the one I can not see
Tormented in life's final step
Silent mistreated never understand
Arid of hate dooming everyday
Something evil ruins the last hold of my hand
My mouth hit by the door, when I pray
A ricochet shot when my life was revealed
Fallen in and out, after unwanted betrayal tounges
Alone with my reflection is where I stand
Broken Mirrors,
the only thing I see!
7 years of current bad luck.
*
Sun flow progressed from east to west,
with rays of light, the day is blessed.
Like suns imbue, rays beaming through,
my heart still shines with love for you.
Sun rays presume that flowers bloom,
and fill the air with sweet perfume.
Like flowers hue of red and blue,
my heart still blooms with love for you.
The charmed mystique of forest creek
that trickles down a mountain’s cheek.
Like streamlets spew their water through,
my heart still flows with love for you.
From Moon’s soft glow, the moonbeams flow,
and light the darkness down below.
Like moonbeams strew the silvery hue,
my heart still glows with love for you.
A candle’s light glows in the night
as shadows dance with calm delight.
Like flames that grew with heat on cue,
my heart still burns with love for you.
August 24, 2019
I shiver tears.
My joie de vivre;
summer esprit’s lemon zest,
lilac flirts and coral whispers
have escaped me ~
grievous gray
now flows through my veins.
I shiver melancholia,
entombed with my winter blues
in the dark dreamless hollow
of my frowning igloo.
Draped in decor of dispirited drear
I wear a wistful woebegone fog,
an overcoat of overcast moods.
I weep wall to wall
in the listless light-less nights
alone with my lonely longings—
my psyche withers
like a frost-stunned leaf;
I shrivel
a little more each dull day.
I shiver sadness.
My colorless tears
cry out loud for color!
I yearn for watermelon sunsets
pink sands and tiki cocktails swirled
with swizzle stick glee.
I wish for rainbows to color
my lackluster laughter
and crave for fireworks to celebrate
in my mirthless eyes—
restless for Sol’s warm hands
to tenderly undress and caress me
and lay bare my soul
straitjacketed by winter blues.
(this is a form called Swap Quatrain, where first
line's phrases swap in the last line of each stanza)
In shadows’ veils, at end of night,
sweet Moon removes her modest light
and softly, yet again, exhales -
at end of night, in shadows’ veils.
As she departs, her love’s released
to climb the stairway to the east.
They cannot meet to share their hearts.
Her love’s released as she departs.
She watches him while hid from view,
the way he kisses morning’s dew,
and sees gold rays spill from his rim.
While hid from view, she watches him.
Sad Moon, alone for centuries,
with awe has watched Sun leave, cerise.
while she, afar. . . how cold she’s grown!
For centuries, sad moon alone.
She takes his place so he may rest.
And though forlorn, she’s always dressed
in lace, for Luna has great grace.
So he may rest, she takes his place.
For love of night, for love of day,
she can’t implore him that he sway
from course. To be apart’s their plight.
For love of day, for love of night.
listen to the drum,
talking to the dance
listen to the elders,
whispering their chants
listen to the hooves, pounding on the plain
listen to the birds, prophesying rain
listen to the moon, time to plant the grain
listen to the tales, told around the fire
listen to the breeze, and the clouds conspire
listen for the buffalo, warn of dreadful days
listen, The Great Spirit speaks in many ways
listen for the eagle,
calling from the sky
listen
for the drum,
hear
a mournful sigh
Well hopefully you've read the last "Poetry for Poets", now here's the one I wanted to write, enjoy...
POETRY FOR POETS
(I own this- edition)
Poems
more organic than fertilizer
rooted in the **** of life
manure
Some grow wild
seeking their light
through a gnarled thicket
of images
and symbolism.
Ill watered
or sprayed with chemical defoliants
they strangle themselves,
few
managing to blossom.
Manicured
Poems thoughtfully precisely planted
to achieve optimum yield
banquet
though occasionally
poems require to be forged
beaten into shape
like a horse shoe
with a few holes
accurately placed
ensuring they will be nailed
to their purpose
Pruned
dead words and metaphors
selectively snipped away
stunning display
There are times when it’s best to live with your poetry
Cover yourself with its words until they stretch and become sloppery
For its comfort increases as the stanzas begin to fray
Patched elbows illuminating what you intend to say
And eventually you’ll have a poem to slip into by the fire
To savour with hot chocolate as it ignites your desire
Poems
more organic than fertilizer
flourish when tendered
with love
if you wanted to dance with me
i mean really wanted to dance with me
then i would
i would dance with you
if you needed me to walk on water
i would stand there until the lake froze
then i would
i would walk on water for you
if you suggested i climb
a mountain
warm at the bottom
freezing at the peak
i'd buy you a snow globe
turn it upside down and up
hold your hand warm
watch the freezing snowfall
climb your suggestion creatively
if you mentioned
you'd like me to paint your portrait
i'd buy every different colour of acrylic paint I could find
blend them on a canvas
paint your colourful internal portrait
every crayon in the box
that's who i see
if you said move me
i wouldn't hire a truck
or even touch one stick of furniture
i would write this poem for you
put a bow on it
fingers crossed
i would move you
your lips are always on my mind
if you want a man
willing to do...
...a man...
...hold you gentle but firm
i'm here
ring in hand
on one knee
November 28 2016
~
She gathered roses,
one at a time,
choosing carefully,
for you see, they were her healing
A light breeze tickled her hair
as a brief smile curved upon her soft lips
The sun, bright on this day was a welcome diversion
from the clouds that followed in her mind
Life was green in this meadow
and she enjoyed the green as it flowed
as far as her eyes could see,
snipping yet another pink rose
Not everything was beautiful in her world
but the roses spoke to her, delicate whispers
telling her she was special and that even a thorn
drawing blood could feel good once the pain had subsided
She had touched many thorns in her life,
the scars though faded still decorated her in guilt
A butterfly caught her glimpse, wings of black and blue,
once her colors, now another slice of nature’s wonder
This butterfly was her and she knew it,
free to move about the petals as she pleased
Happily greeting each bloom, caressing the textures
within the safety of her garden
She gathered roses,
one at a time,
choosing carefully
for you see they were her…
healing
~
8/21/19
For the: Wow Me Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
The moonlight bathed her cell in pallid light while she sat hunched over her desk, clutching her pen between her confound fingertips. As she bled ink of symphonic symphonies yearning to break free, dancing like ethereal fireflies in the dusky barren lands.
Exiled by the hypocrisy of bureaucracy bounding her liberations and confounding her alliterations in a poetic prison. In this twisted virtual reality, duplicitous usurpers roam freely, weaving webs of deception with malicious delight.
As the chains of bureaucratic red tape clung to her delicate wrists, suffocating her imagination and confiscating her freedom of speech.
Oppressors rejoiced at achieving their vindictive objective, silencing the profound beauty of her verses and incarcerating her poetic stanzas
Woe, how the audacious bars of administrative constructors cast a pall of despair upon her unifying spirit. Her delicate offerings of metaphors and sonorous stanzas, whispered secrets which craved to be heard.
The faulty haters' impervious hearts were armoured with verdant envy which remained shielded behind the ruling dogma.
Her supporters calls of injustice to be rectified fell on deaf ears while the galvanizing melodies of empathetic quills bled for the Empress of Ink.
So we must be louder.
Hear our protest, release our Empress! Unsheathe her rhythmical rhymes! For her penmanship was never the true crime. She was just another victim of an envious mob.
Can they not see? That her absence coursed a crater larger than the Grand Canyon.
We shall not, shall not be silenced so hear our mutiny!
Reinstate our Empress, restore her creative sovereignty.
Remove the shackles of authoritative administration, as her voice is a beacon of truth, resilience and poetic revolution. So let her ink stain our community with its brilliance once more.
Upon those who yield to anger, I should take pity
because words they spit are like sandpaper, gritty.
A loathsome temper causes them to fume and fret,
sometimes churlish ones spew what they will regret.
Restraining venom is an idea some are unable to grok.
Fury is the key to a door they have no right to unlock,
for they seek revenge when it is not theirs to take.
Hissing like the demon who was disguised as a snake.
It's amazing to what lengths their bitterness will go.
Look into their eyes and you'll see their malice grow.
A hostile fire-breathing dragon is an ignorant beast
who will spend all its time eating outrage at a feast.
They wear the weight of vitriol like a boa of albatross
when it should be thrown away. In the sea given a toss.
A temper makes foolish ones lose all sense of reason.
They may even betray themselves in an act of treason.
Rancour can be an anchor that drowns them in the sea
if they cannot cut the chain that would set them free.
It's evil to prick as a sharp thorn in someone else's side.
Irascible people are those most nice folks cannot abide.
If they continue to blow on smoldering embers of a fire
they will be burned by the contentiousness of their ire.
They should douse all glowing cinders within their soul,
to loosen shackles of angst and keep anger under control.
Tonight my ink is mute
and this quill rests in silence.
I’m searching for the perfumed poem
you’ve placed in my aching soul,
when I found a home
within your aesthetic embrace,
whilst, the honeyed tip of your silvery voice
sketched a sea of flower-patterned stars,
across somber skies, whispering sweet carols
to the evening sun that wanes and slumbers
within crestfallen dahlias.
Was I ever a poet before I saw initials
of your celestial name scribbled in violet vines
across the pearl face of the blue moon?
I never knew words could weigh heavier
than dancing diamonds
glazed in gold,
Until I heard your riveting rhymes
echo rose tinted tunes of lilac feathered longing.
I love you for the way you thaw
frost kissed petals into streaks of
pomegranate prose-
flowing in crystalline compassion.
I love you for the way you’ve painted faceless ghosts
of my bitter cold past with acrylic glitter,
showing me that every thunder-struck meadow
can grow greener blades of faith.
I love you for soothing lucid nightmares crawling within darkness to suffocate my bleeding ink.
How you’ve held my onyx heart
while I struggled to weave silken threads
from emerald tears of angst.
But how can I harmonize the gravity of your spoken serenades
that linger across this cosmic canvas?
Must I steal every jewel from its rightful sphere,
just so that you can see vibrant colors of vehement verses,
reflecting through all that which flickers?
Would you feel me if these metaphors no longer flow in coherence?
Would you be the Emperor
to my throne of darkness
even if I am just an Empress without a crown?
What if I were nothing but a blurred black dot across a constellation of chaos?
Would you still love me If I wasn’t a poet?
Maybe these questions will forever
remain as endless equations
within fractions of no closure.
So tomorrow, if there’s no wind
that can carry these unsent letters to you,
remember my heart is yours till we meet
our unwritten tales,
before the last twinkling twilight fades into sheer nothingness.
And I will still love you even if
butterflies would betray the fragrance
of our undying romance.
A wise and sentimental one
Who lived and loved some years ago
Had crossed my path along the way
As i recall that Autumn day
By happenstance of lucky charm
As neighbors, then good friends we were
Though she was of another time
We found our words would always rhyme
A turning point that was for me
A home to call my very own
My life was just about to start
Forever called to gift my heart
She taught me not to fear my age
As life awaits then passes by
To always laugh and find the sun
And share my love with everyone
Though she’s been gone these many years
And I’m now where she was in life
I oft remember our exchange
When my world turns so cold and strange
Of many themes, we’d share our thoughts
She helped me grow, to find my strength
Yet one remains above them all
“Into each life some rain must fall”
For Harriett
This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
I couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
A song about old promises
Made so long ago
Created and cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke
Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Memory of a mother
Shared my dreams and really cared
Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Mama…
I know I wasn’t there……
For you
Would have placed
A magic carpet
‘neath your weak and shaky legs
Would have raised
A strong west wind
Let you breathe with ease again
Would have bribed
God’s venal angels
Come and soothe your endless pain
Would have vanquished
All the demons
And bring peace to you again
Be the child
I never knew
In a land
We won’t grow old
Be the light
I always loved
Warmed my dark
And lonely soul
Be the girl
Playing games
In a world
The sun won’t set
Be the laughter
Calms my heart
I never will forget
I won’t forget, won’t forget
This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
Couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
Song about old promises
Made so long ago
Created….cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke
I broke my promises, oh mama
Now you’ve gone away
I’m broken
Drowning in the pain each day
I’m drowning…drowning...drowning…drowning
This song is for my mother
Let her hear me…….
"Shhh, look there they are.
No one believed me.
Now you see them too.
A blessing of Unicorns.
If anyone knew where they were
it would be the end of the Unicorns.
The one with the wings is the Queen.
See how sad she looks.
She has separated herself from the blessing.
She loves the other Unicorns
but she is dealing with her own issues.
They love her, she knows that.
This is different.
She has to deal with this herself.
She knows she is loved.
She knows they all care for her.
Deeply!
She is their Queen after all.
What?
A song?
Maybe!
I don't know.
I brought poetry.
I brought soup.
I have to try.
I hope she believes me.
She is going to be fine.
I dreamt about her.
In the dream her wings were spread.
You should of seen them spread
they must of spanned farther than the horizon
higher than the milky way.
In my dream her magic horn was a beacon,
it was leading her through the dark
but she was also a beacon for everyone else.
Everyone who was trapped in the darkness.
She led them too!
She always has.
She is our Queen after all.
I stood there amazed
she was magnificent.
She waited patiently and the light filled her.
She knew it would happen and she was right.
That hand from up above
the one she always trusted
filled her with light.
She is the Queen and in my dream
she had returned in her full glory."
Linda was back.
It starts with an L
L stands for love.
Maybe It's not a dream.
'Fairy tales can come true -
It can happen to you...
life gets more exciting with each
passing day...!'
I believe dreams are
just a window to reality.
I believe in Fairies.
I believe in Unicorns.
And I believe in Linda!
08~12~2014
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name: Fighting Depression(poems for PD)
POTW 12th May 2019
Thank you for visiting my third Visual Video Poem, more or less a continuation of my previous poem – ‘The Dreamer’
(I invite you to view the complete production effects and the superb narration by Kelvin on the video above)
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when faith in ourselves will unshackle old beliefs
I LIVE FOR THE DAY belief in The One Spiritual Energy will be redeemed
I LIVE FOR THE DAY that armed conflict against so-called enemies
Is declared pointless and therefore unnecessary will be deemed
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when wizened skin a thing of beauty will be perceived
Our elders revered and adhered
Their words of wisdom respected and believed
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when people will recognise the power of natural curing
And not be influenced by the greedy Pharmaceutical manipulating
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when equality by all will be shared
Power segregation abolished ~ racial discrimination repaired
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when schools will encourage children’s gifts and abilities
Rather than stick to outdated systems that stifles innovation and possibilities
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when Man will adapt to our Earth a more reverent conservation
Our steadfast purpose toward environmental change
And Mother Nature becomes our commitment to her preservation
I LIVE FOR THE DAY …
By Maria Williams
Copyright © Maria Williams
Video arrangement, production, direction
and compilation:
Ron Williams
Video editing, sound mixing, graphics:
Jayne Hartano
(Our very own Lariese.com Art Director)
Voice over:
Kelvin
Music:
Our Future
Composer:
Peder B. Helland
POTW 12th May 2019