Best Forbidding Poems
Silhouetted in the early morn
Five black crows await the breaking dawn
Sitting still and silent in a row
Their shadows cast a forbidding glow
Dusk turns to dawn as daylight breaks
Dark skies fade as the world awakes
The moonlight pales in the morning light
Soon to rise again and welcome night
Jan Allison
24th March 2015
form used - Ekphrasis
Black and White film Photography – A V Giorgio
~awarded 3rd place~
A pregnant lass with eyes of glass had never learned to cope;
once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp’ry slope.
She fled the curse of worlds perverse by shooting shots of dope,
and stalked discreet’ Asylum Street her daily horoscope.
The stray was struck by passing truck which was her only hope.
Well, Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
“The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire
(born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire)
for no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
though faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood are spattered on the spire;
though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.”
Though broken there, she’s fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she’s dead, the rumours spread: her age? a sweet 16,
with child, unwed, her soul stained red, her body so unclean.
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
in limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
and all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.
Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that’s seldom trod
“In pious role, God bless my soul”, was mouthed with mitred nod,
(the twisted grin seemed dark and thin behind the robed façade).
“She’ll burn in hell with sulphur smell”, spat Priest and man of god.
Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl’s attire,
but Banjo Boy, he’s playing coy while chanting in the choir:
“The clueless search within the church to find what they desire,
but near the nave or gravelled grave, there is no Rectifier.”
And when he’s through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.
The Gift, The Truth, Hope And Its Sweet Promise
Your hope- you have gifted unto me
unto me, a vagabond shifting sand
a flightless bird lost in its plumage
under a great and mighty oak tree
above the sun beams
its illumination forbidding night
vanquishing darkness, its blacken strokes
In your hope rests a truth
that this vessel surrounding my soul
is but a temporary hindrance
a shell, a decaying fortress
bearing the hits from cannon shots
empty now- awaiting reinforcement
from a cavalry that vanished long ago
Youth-
alas! was it ever real
a maddening rush into the waiting trap
I remember-those sweet summer days
barefoot, soft grass between my toes
Youth-
a man-less ship
sailing upon uncharted seas
decorating blue skies and watery echoes
I now stand-aged, looking back
amazed at the speed of flight
how life gave no care of time
no respect of defiant reality
Your hope- you have gifted unto me
knowledge, inspiration- a new goal
to die without dire regrets
to depart a man
accepting truth, light, love
and the immense vanity born into mortal flesh.
Robert J. Lindley, 3-06-2021
Free verse, ( Eternity, Seen Beyond The Purple Veil )
" Pardon me,
if my soul has been p a i n t e d ,
with a lavender lake of solemnity,
but, I'll f o r e v e r be a soulful siren,
navigating midst neon s e a f o a m s ,
and sculpting an origami of honesty
~ like the archangels of heavenly faith "
When the 'Swans of Sun'
sing in a soft echo,
behind silvery beams
of oceanic clouds,
I always become
a winter's twilight,
that misses those
subtle hues of silky spring,
as bittersweet stars
tremble and fall
upon my misty eyelids,
like ruby jewels,
scattered with
jasmine scents and
falling on glass-tulips.
My story is more than
speckles of glittery stardust,
for, you shall hear
the heartbeats of harp,
breathing within me,
and unfurling upon
lotus layers of harmony,
knitted by an eternal shine.
Perhaps, ice crystals floating
on puddles of sunrays,
too search for a purpose,
and compel life to chase
that rusting light,
escaping from
crackles of lead skies.
I wonder,
is my sakura moon,
a sea of pomegranate promises,
dipped in maple scars?
Perhaps, my muse
is forbidding me,
and my paper kingdom
of sage and saffron,
shall be soaked
in a scarlet sanctuary
of aching phrases ~
arching beyond
aqua ashes of brokenness.
There, my heart is crowned
on a bleeding rose,
as a 'spirit of rosemary runes',
when its tears trace the
luscious lips of petals,
laced with secrets, unseen.
I'll always narrate
these tangible tales
to red robins,
describing how a
dynasty of dreams
kept burning inside
my poetic flames,
carving vermillion silhouettes
across pastel pages,
where healing
will be sketched,
like a rhymeless perfume
and the immortal dove
will rest upon
a pearly crown
of snow-white hibiscus.
Quote- Henri Barbusse
""We are all, always, the desire not to die. This desire is as immeasurable and varied as life's complexity, but at bottom this is what it is: To continue to be, to be more and more, to develop and to endure. All the force we have, all our energy and clearness of mind serve to intensify themselves in one way or another. We intensify ourselves with new impressions, new sensations, new ideas. We endeavour to take what we do not have and to add it to ourselves. Humanity is the desire for novelty founded upon the fear of death. That is what it is.""
*****
Dying A Little With Each And Every Breath
Within depths of human life, a radiant flame
Born from a spark, an unfathomable clear beat
Although world teaches that life is but a sad game
One that accepts the victories of those that cheat!
Lies refuted by radiance of divine light
As clear as tides caressing shores from waltzing seas
Mankind, wakes to new dawn but fails to walk aright
For from the love and truth far too often he flees!
Alas! World accelerates the dark within mankind
Seeded from birth, darkness unto each coming death
Lost soul, forbidding light to enter heart and mind
Dying a little with each and every breath!
Lies refuted by radiance of divine light.
Mankind, wakes to new dawn but fails to walk aright!
Robert J. Lindley, 3-30-2021
Sonnet,
( From The Depths, A Truth And A Sight That Time Hath Wrought )
She wears her soul on her nuclear skin
Brightest chartreuse yellow
morphs into roseate pink,
promising peace
she illumes from within her
There is only one of her,
yet is never alone
her golden rays cascade
warmth in cobalt skies
embracing as she dwells alongside
touching universes both eternal,
balanced with an external expression
in both realms reflection
overlooking the gallant mountain tops
gentle undulating waves,
fullness in emptiness
amongst Spring’s delicacies
a force of nurturing generosity
fostering spirit giving endlessly
championing her cause
She watches from behind
the highest hilltops,
below the erosion formed summits
Setting onto the lowlands
and forbidding foothills
as her changing light
transforms the ether
she gazes at the unfolding
of the stars, faint specs,
she is still, in their presence
as the blue evokes
his calm, she catches glimpses
shades of salmon trail faded ones,
they bring hopeful sonnets
May she let subdued
light shine upon her
blushing rays?
Perhaps one day,
whilst the night’s indigo sky
looks after her
CAFE TERRACE AT NIGHT (Van Gogh)
Orbital focus of assured kindness and hospitality
From the waitress in long white apron
Where time stands still for a moment,
Where the golden interior glow of the shelter
Gravitates under the canvas roof and
Permits a little topaz flavor to anoint the cobbled street,
Its dark forbidding geometry of the night,
Its silhouetted shapes of blackened houses
Whose dead windows suggest only a half life,
Whose clock tower suggests the running sands of time,
While dizzying stars, circular orbs of cold white,
Stare unblinking at the colors uncertain
In a neighbourhood of crumbling age,
On the pavement of uncertain difficult cobbles.
The café is not crowded but it is the sun
For the people orbiting its warmth.
Beyond the skills of escorts
and the appeal of other playthings,
smolders the need of the soul
infused to best every man.
Twelve years have taken
the scars out of the memories,
from the last time I was
up and through
just to come down and out
to find every fairy tale
extends it’s hand
to some tragedy.
The odds don’t warrant
the time of practical effort.
Too keen to the liabilities,
always calculating ends.
It is not the demands of over
or having to start something new
rather, better to remain alone
than to be let down again.
But now I see you,
and it makes me pause
so still, with the whisper --
Are you sure?
Falls into a deafening singularity
forbidding even a scream, it’s escape.
I sit and can only see
the touch of Heaven
reaching across the Caribbean
to color your face.
As your smile holds the songs
of every dawn’s temptress,
under the soft disposition
of your eyes
rests a divine spirit’s symmetry,
smoothing features
while lensing each strand
the perfect frame.
That once moved a favored King
to murder a man, only to bring
the sword into his own house.
Enabled an army to take
a strong city with just one horse.
And enslaved the envy of Venus
to sharpen leaden arrows,
but fury slipped her hands
and bled her wrists out.
Blood clotted on the cold muck
of her grave, a suffocating cocoon.
Immersed the viewer becomes,
and timeless the window
of the heart that is God’s craft,
denying the deceiver’s forgery
of any singed carnality.
As if proximity has been given
within the mist of your perfume,
in just this one picture
of your face.
Ursus Maritimus ...
I entered your world in quietude, slipping through the granular, soft.
Long slats to feet parting the frozen. Cold of a previously unknown
Extreme, nipping, sharp, the epidermis with ardor. A Mid-May akin to
February, homeward, first warning of extrinsic ire, ignored. Hours of
Similar (sobering) revelations ensued, supplanted by days, weeks,
Moons ... reality - icebound and born of abiding trial. The basic
Elements staggering, swallowed by the providence around me. A
Vastness beyond vast, afar ... crushing cold of limitless value, each
Sunrise a new contingency for measure of my insignificance. How I
Adored you for your beauty - such reward for the naked eye, there
Amidst a denuded struggle. Shaped by eons of selection into a
Creation of perfect form and ease, as at home with desolation as
I at a warm hearth and aliment. Moving sprite through your environs,
All senses attuned to the mind's axis ... at once knowing and known,
Master of a savage domain. Every dynamism a fluid dance, every
Steamed puff of exhalation a waif of delicacy, bespoken. Do not the
Gods aspire to such? If there were deities afforded such barren and
Bleak scapes, it would be none other than you - as exquisitely
Magnificent and divine as the forbidding but breathtaking element
Around you, my brother. Yet, I fear I have doomed you, for others
Will now follow ... others who find no such elegance in anything
But graft and greed. By the simple act of watching I may have
Sealed your fate, firm and grim. So, I will not turn to admire you
As I leave ... but rather keep you forever as a phantom in my mind
And heart and longings - to let you devour my spirit and join with
You, ever after straining to hear the echo of your lonely, distant
Growl, the one that so often haunts my thoughts and meanderings,
Dark and cold in the arctic night, dark and cold in the willows ...
Deep and frozen and dreaming, of your gleaming and breathless
Beauty. If but mine to touch ... to know. Forgive me and farewell ...
Brother Bear.
Keep well away from dark, forbidding dreams --
Instead, stay near the hearth and play your lyre;
Sleep even so will wait on wooden beams,
Seducing you beside your cozy fire.
Meticulous and careful you may be,
Evicting darting shadows with the blaze --
Inside your quiet cottage, patiently,
Night's emissary holds you in her gaze.
The cuckoo calls as midnight church-bells chime;
His warning message echoes from the walls --
Enchanted ears have lost all track of time,
So far from whispered fears as silence falls.
Her chilling hands then rip away your voice,
And images assail your inner eyes --
Denying you the act of conscious choice,
On captive lips she mixes truth and lies.
When sunlight climbs the sky and breaks her spell,
She blows a darkened kiss, and bids farewell.
Written by Gail Debole on
April 2, 2013
She, on her near-death bed
Face grey as she faced what is inevitable.
I, sitting to the right
And Death floating to the left.
She, mumbling that it was her time.
That she was to leave.
I, forbidding her to go.
Told her that it was NOT her time.
She needed to stay.
The nurses, came to her rescue.
One on each side.
Death and I moving away.
Her face becoming pink with new-found life.
It was a miracle, the nurses exclaimed.
She, with eyes awake.
Death moving on to another victim.
I, again seated to her right.
She told me her truth.
She smiled and explained
That she was still here
Because God had said
that it was not her time to go.
And I, who knew my truth,
And who never pretended to be God
Knew that NOT to be true.
And could never tell her my truth.
And she, who lived on
Told that story many times
Of the miracle that she was part of.
And I, never said a word.
Then years later after her passing
My mind’s eye opened.
Could she have been right?
Did God tell her to stay that day
Speaking the words through my mouth?
What did he mean
when he said
turn the other cheek?
Does it mean
violence isn't the answer
and peace is always the way?
Is it to deny the natural
carnal response?
To challenge the older laws
that have long been ensconced?
Maybe it's a come on
to the ungodly
"Give me what you got
I have no need to be afraid."
Maybe he meant
our bones are fragile
but our hope is not?
It shall never rust nor decay.
Surely a punch in the face
is no threat to one's life.
If a man put a gun to your wife
would you just let her die??
(surely life is precious
but God have mercy
should it come to this)
Should we cast down our weapons,
trade them for pruning hooks?
Is that what Jesus meant?
Or perhaps, maybe,
it begs you to take a deeper look.
and gaze at the wisdom God has sent.
Does it not surely mean that hatred
can't be snuffed out
by more hatred?
There are many trials we go through
but one thing we must know
is that love should always be sacred.
When he stated
Ye are the Light of the World
does that not imply
that the world itself is DARKNESS?
It's a gloomy forbidding place
with many pricks and thorns:
why add to the harshness?
For now it seems
we see through a glass darkly.
Having trouble deciphering
the passages and what they meant.
What about Romans 13
where it says, Execute vengeance
against those who do evil?
To whom is it referring
and to what extent?
Our limited understanding
leaves us grounded.
NOTE: This was written in response (and inspiration) to Liam McDaid's poem titled Thou Shalt Not Kill. It's a very fascinating topic, and one where I don't quite have answers...
I rode to power on a Midwest horse,
Bearing amongst the feathers in my cap this terse brief
from my broken people:
To lay waste to the irksome order
That home and abroad now prevails.
Strained voices break out in the valley below
And many more in the world across the seas
Bidding me to dismount at once
And move to saddle the global kingdom
Of Reagan, Roosevelt, Clinton, ...
That now is mine to ride.
Yet this very kingdom I came to crush;
My Midwest horse, I wouldn't trade for it!
In her neighs, I hear a nay
Forbidding me to consider the bargain.
Her counsel I think I'll heed
For between the two, she's the easier to ride.
A horse that trots on cheap lies
Or a kingdom that floats on costly allies--
That's the question I now confront.
O souls of the Island,
I have silently
heard through
tropical torrents
and surpassed
a million miles
of the milky seas,
away from
mint-marine
silhouettes of my
utopian wonderland,
as strawberry
ripples and
coconut-scented
musings called
upon my
flamboyant spirit,
to explore those
ebony-emeralds
of universe and
envelop my hope in
creamy pink shells.
I have soaked in
sepia impressions,
ebbing as
crepe currents
on splitting shores
and windsurfed
through the
hibiscus rays
of life by forbidding
heartache hymns
of yesteryears,
from lurking in
jewelled hours
of today
and built a
kryptonite kayak
to sail in the
turquoise times
of tomorrow.
For, now I know
that the
opalescent ocean
has chosen me,
to return the
riveting spirit
of sage-rufescent
rivulets back to
the 'Heart of
Humanity's Cosmos',
shaped in
soft serenades
of seraphim.
When the
whispers of a
mauve french-rose,
blooming within,
will uncurl their
farthest wish
in silken twinkles,
my eyes will always
remember these
watercolor heights
splashing crayon dusks
and revealing
silver moon truths,
for there's more
beyond the
neon networks
of syzygy pearl skies
and chestnut reefs,
yearning to be
cherished by the
blonde alchemy of love.
So, I abandon
those sooty
regrets that snorkel
with their fragile fins in
kohl-lily gulfs
and observe these
constellations
of intuitions, formed
by the star-kissed
manta rays and
sketch sagacious
saudades laced
with hope, as a
halo around the
lilac Pole Star.
In this mortal
seascape of
the seventh heaven,
every orphan
of darkness
shimmers as
the beacon
of lustrous
sugar-scintilla that
shapes this world,
in ivory-smitten
spheres of
magically
diaphanous helix,
waltzing in whispers
of wind and water.
Every lava-skinned,
feminine flame
of doleful daffodils
was once a glittered
cherry-red gardenia,
laced with
cardinal buds,
who nurtured
velvet seeds
in the womb of
celeste compassion
and edenic empathy.
And like myself,
every sea-maiden of
sequined lush ruminations,
crowned with
purple plumerias,
is a whimsical wayfinder,
wishing for ~
white bells of serenity
and blue-star petals of peace.
Swaths of purple ripple, breeze blown,
down the hillside to the water's edge
as the early morning sunlight splatters
her span with scattered diamonds.
Majestic, as old as the granite outcrops
surrounding her, she shimmers,
'til the weather takes a downturn.
Afternoon thunder and heavy gusts
whip her to a frenzy, as the mountain
goats and hikers hurry to take shelter,
her complexion now grim and forbidding.
The storms disintegrate, the evening sky
turns red and gold, and peace resumes its reign.
This princess, both petulant and calm,
assumes a sheen like polished glass,
a stillness, a silence, in absolute darkness,
just waiting for sunrise to sparkle again.