Best Furtively Poems
Springing free from glistening
Fronds
The summers heat leaps for
Height;
Whilst drifting obscurely far
Above
A distant lark now hangs in
Flight.
Floats down his sweet trill,
Accompanied by joyous and
Uplifting revelry,
Over the black crows nasal
Calls;
Whose draped shadow,
contemplating devilry,
Flaps and furtively falls
Into ripening bean fields
Planted in neatly sowed rows:
Nourished in darkest till,
Enriched by pedantic verse of
Gaelic odes.
Do now these gentle Slopes
Pause to yield
Where secretive song,
Bursting forth, is much concealed
inside the plain of Aidhne;
For here the great rock of the
Burren,
Whereby so implored upon,
Revealed its grey stones...
To rebuild ancient and deserted
Thoor Ballylee.
Sweeping briskly past a tors
Grassy island busy in bloom,
Eagerly cramming under four
Crouched arches,
Skim the borrowed waters of
Thee immortal Cloone;
Dappling currents
Dawdling around squat stanchions -
Staunchly carrying the quiet bridge
Over the old concourse:
Momentarily loitering -
Wantonly begging to coyly swoon...
Now, joyfully sporting in gushing
Discourse,
Gleefully courting elusive and
Glimmering enchantments:
Mirrored reflections enticed to
Enter -
To be forever trapped within a
Burbling rivers sacred rhyme and
Tune.
Higher and higher the spiraling
Stairs of de Burgo
When through airy woodland
Glades
The towering shadow sought;
And higher and higher the spirit
Of an ageing poet...
His crowding thoughts
Roaming freely amidst these
Fabled legends of Gort.
Harken then to the feathered
Herald -
Tis Gods design that calls on
Ye!
For few men know of what he
Sings...
He sings of the forgotten paths
Forever lost within Innisfree.
Notus comes creeping furtively from the south
hot and bothered from the blazing summer sun.
The wind of change...concealed it launches sudden storms
as clouds pile up across the sky, dark and towering,
lightning flashes, thunder drawls, torrential rain descends;
rivers swell to bursting point; fields are swamped, crops destroyed.
Then once again he sneaks away, planning his next move.
His neighbour, Eurus, wants to show he’s no less able.
Bearing his inverted earthen vase he goes along
clumsy in gait and spilling water on dry soil.
His forays from the east tend to be unlucky.
Autumn fades with a sigh on Aura’s gentle wings
as ice-cold winter rushes in impatiently
from northern frozen lands to take its place
goaded by the domineering force of Boreas
who moves ahead with strong, intense authority,
his violent temper uncontrolled. Despite his age
he pushes his galloping stallion to the limit
riding forth relentlessly, cloak billowing behind,
his white beard curled; shaggy hair spiked and frosted.
Roaring, across the land he speeds with utmost haste,
a sacred conch shell grasped firmly in steely hand;
tremendous power he exerts and blows aloud
while humans cower in dark caverns, shivering.
They know his moods and fear his devastating wrath.
In their minds, princess Oreithyia’s forced abduction,
rape, and carnal satisfaction are still fresh.
They yearn for winter’s bitter ally to move on
so that the gentle Zephyr enters from the west
bringing with him rainbows and showers of spring,
calm serenity, greenery, flowers, shades and hues,
romantic feelings, fiery passion and intense love.
Ultimately, all four have to heed and appease
King Aeolus, firm ruler and keeper of the winds.
----------------------------------
*Aura = breeze goddess
*Oreithyia = mountain Nymph
----------------------------------
18th December 2014
Contest: Gods of Winds
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Placed: 2nd
She senses before she sees
The manicured nails - the elegant fingers
Holding out the hundred dollar bills - enticingly - so temptingly
A generous nights takings of busking here
In one proffered hand
She grabs at it petrified it might be an illusion
Evaporating in a puff of smoke
Fingers hold it back, teasingly
Compelling eye contact
She looks up sceptically
Dark eyes meet her aqua blues, sparking a sort of affinity
‘Eyes are the window of one’s soul’- so it is said in all sincerity
But the magnetic dark eyes of her enticer are fathomless in their intensity
His type she has encountered before - money for favours
Well she is no novice - a living after all - a girl has to make
And his generous offer rivals his devilish good looks
But she senses a darkness favouring the energy emanating
A cold shiver runs through her veins like someone just walked on her grave
Fear ripples down her spine akin to a stroking finger chilled in ice
The spell he casts foreboding
The calmness of the night has taken flight
In its haste to set the macabre scene
Mesmerising are the eyes that bore into hers
Projected thoughts furtively slip into her mind
Infiltrating it like a slithery snake
Bringing with it forbidden thoughts of desire
She falls into the inky black abyss
Succumbing to heady dark passionate conceptualization
However the chilling message is coherent
This is not a mere opportunistic one night stand
That he desires
This is more - so much more
This is taboo concupiscence unleashed
This is her life in exchange for what?
Her life for immortality?
Surely not!
Yet his eyes eloquently convey it all
The hunger so unconcealed - so transparently flagrant
To yield to darkness
Satisfying his appetite for
Death of a different nature?
Obliteration of life as she knows it to be
Tenebrous Immortality in exchange for her blood
A prelude to his finale of taking her soul
And then a metamorphosis
From Prey to Predator
Video clip -
Like a Vampire- Catrien Maxwell
The shell remains
picked clean by hungry vultures
ravenous with greed.
Gouged-out eyes
now bare hollow sockets
vacant in their stare.
Morsels of choice parts
deftly stripped or torn away—
and gutted vitals, furtively devoured,
have filled the wanton needs
of scavengers who shared the feast.
The carcass rests
flat on bony frame
supported once by plump, round legs
on which it mightily ran.
There it lies—
a brittle, empty shell—
the poor abandoned Chevy
on the Harlem River Drive.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Bring To Life
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Judged: 04/14/2018
~3rd Place~
Contest: East Jesus
Sponsor: Roy Jerden
Judged: 01/02/2015
Note: Inspired by my many trips years ago in the late 70s, to visit my father in a hospital there. I would see so many abandoned cars lined up as 'empty shell carcasses' along the Harlem River Drive in New York City.
Animal of the Night
The animal of the night has an evil courage as its defense,
And with simple lies it now catches the filthy beast easily,
And can now stand and bask in God’s purest of sunshine,
Whilst valor and glory speak all power to one’s destiny!
Darkness doth now pervade and drinks slowly from that
“Chalice of the Faithless Heathen” who hides among the
Soulless Ones who are consumed by their hateful actions,
And spit thoughtlessly at your good will and human pride!
Hades’ very own dark demons tilt their evil night shades
While justifying the hurt and depravity of an “Ugly Brute”;
A truly lost soul without any mercy, blind—as “He” throws
Freely a nasty spiteful spirit on your earthly fire of reality!
Hence, Hades’ mark and mask of utter darkness and terror
Descend now into the very conscience of your Spirit World;
Burning hot with the force of “The Furies” seeking revenge:
Tisiphone, Megaera, and Alecto all appear sans Merci now!
As their eternal gorgonesque spirits creep upon you furtively,
Your once handsome visage turns into a sad and horrid portrait
Of an old animal soul in the mirror never to see the Light again,
As clouds darkly shade your horizon and fate in Hades’ name!
In this eternal land of darkness, the dead do not suffer this fate
So easily, and cast not without honor in their chains the notion
That fear itself, vice destiny, cries out now for your forgiveness,
As One-Eyed Beggars seek and see the basic good within you!
Each day now fades into its own doom, into a dark mist of evil,
And hides carefully inside a “Mountain of Consciousness” where
Your ethereal spirit knows who you really are—as black snakes
slither slowly and silently toward your spirit-mirrored reflection!
You—that “Animal of the Night,” wear now your deceptive mask;
The reality of who and what you really are makes my skin crawl!
You can never return from this darkest “Pit of Hell” my old friend,
For thy animal-human spirit is doomed to all this darkness forever!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – November 22, 2015
(Narrative Quatrain)
The animal of the night has an evil courage as its defense,
And with simple lies it now catches the filthy beast easily,
And can now stand and bask in God’s purest of sunshine,
Whilst valor and glory speak all power to one’s destiny!
Darkness doth now pervade and drinks slowly from that
“Chalice of the Faithless Heathen” who hides among the
Soulless Ones who are consumed by their hateful actions,
And spit thoughtlessly at your good will and human pride!
Hades’ very own dark demons tilt their evil night shades
While justifying the hurt and depravity of an “Ugly Brute”;
A truly lost soul without any mercy, blind—as “He” throws
Freely a nasty spiteful spirit on your earthly fire of reality!
Hence, Hades’ mark and mask of utter darkness and terror
Descend now into the very conscience of your Spirit World;
Burning hot with the force of “The Furies” seeking revenge:
Tisiphone, Megaera, and Alecto all appear sans Merci now!
As their eternal gorgonesque spirits creep upon you furtively,
Your once handsome visage turns into a sad and horrid portrait
Of an old animal soul in the mirror never to see the Light again,
As clouds darkly shade your horizon and fate in Hades’ name!
In this eternal land of darkness, the dead do not suffer this fate
So easily, and cast not without honor in their chains the notion
That fear itself, vice destiny, cries out now for your forgiveness,
As One-Eyed Beggars seek and see the basic good within you!
Each day now fades into its own doom, into a dark mist of evil,
And hides carefully inside a “Mountain of Consciousness” where
Your ethereal spirit knows who you really are—as black snakes
slither slowly and silently toward your spirit-mirrored reflection!
You—that “Animal of the Night,” wear now your deceptive mask;
The reality of who and what you really are makes my skin crawl!
You can never return from this darkest “Pit of Hell” my old friend,
For thy animal-human spirit is doomed to all this darkness forever!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – November 22, 2015
(Narrative Quatrain)
[Songs Inspired two line haiku
The first line is the name of a song]
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
[Foreigner]
waiting for a girl like you -
the wild flower by the gate
[Phil Collins]
another day in paradise -
my love chalice filled and refilled
[The Beatles]
here comes the sun -
furtively she draws the curtain to my heart
[Creedence Clearwater Revival]
have you ever seen the rain?
I was blind to unspoken love
[Simon & Garfunkel]
the sound of silence -
we dance to the rhythm of our hearts
[Lady Antebellum]
need you now -
the rose petals keep falling…down
[A Rocket to the Moon]
baby blue eyes -
heaven reflected in the swell of the sea
[Mary Hopkin]
those were the days
…and then your hand slipped out of mine
[Sting]
fields of gold -
the setting sun ripples on water
[Ronan Keating]
when you say nothing at all -
searching for reassurance in your eyes
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
© May 2022
It was a dark and stormy night.
Outside the clouds hid pale moon's light.
The wind howled wild around the eaves,
Blowing loose the last Fall leaves.
The rain began to batter hard,
Against my nighted window pane,
And as I gazed into the night,
Something scurried through the rain.
What could it be on such a night,
That hurried through the gale to door?
It flitted quickly past my sight,
Seemed but a shadow, nothing more.
Stopping just inside the shed,
Furtively it turned it's head,
Then disappeared into the dark,
And I returned unto the hearth.
What huddled there inside my shed?
The very thought filled me with dread.
I grabbed my coat, I had to know,
What's hiding there all filled with woe.
Raincoat hood pulled way down tight,
I rushed to see what was it's plight.
There in the darkened cold she lay,
With tiny kittens of just one day.
I gathered them into my arms,
And brought them in where they'd be warm.
This could be their forever home,
For this old witch is all alone.
No one ever ventures near,
For it's me that they all fear;
But I've not harmed a single soul,
I'm just ugly and bent and crippled and old.
Like you I'm abandoned, I've been cast out,
And no one payed heed to my cries or shouts;
So we will be a family,
Just you and me and kittens three.
cumulus there dazzlingly bright
floats above in motionless flight
teases, slow-dances furtively
deep skies of lapis lazuli!
I brewed a cup of strong tea,
Using hot, crystal clear water.
I hope I made it very tasty,
And you’ll appreciate its power.
I put it on a little table
Covered with a lacy napkin.
I like this aromatic and herbal
Odor penetrating your skin.
We sit opposite one another,
I look into your eyes furtively,
Watching you add a bit of sugar.
You say something to me, I agree…
Your lips touch the brim of the cup gently,
I wish they wanted to warm mine up,
And I desire wholeheartedly
That you soon ask for another cup…
When you went to our favorite place,
and you sat in your usual chair.
When you lifted your stemmed glass,
did you notice I wasn't there?
Did you furtively check the door;
look for my face across the room?
Did you surreptitiously search the air
for a hint of my perfume?
Did you feel a sudden chill
of loneliness and, yes, regret?
Did you wish with troubled heart
that you and I had never met?
Did you think, with a sudden start,
those very words I might have said?
Did it occur, now you're thinking of me,
you thought of only yourself instead?
Did you notice my eyes brimmed with tears?
Did they happen to be in your glance?
Did you realize I wasn't a game to be played
Like you play your games of chance?
You won't find me now in any room;
nor will my perfume fill the air.
You're your's alone, as it always was.
Did you notice I wasn't there?
What sibilant consonants
conjure his image: angular, Germanic,
uttering phrases and grunts, monosyllables
forcefully spat into air alive,
filled with his vivid verbal assaults!
No saccharine sentiment for him.
He lets fly with steamy staccato
streams of purposely purple prose,
unblemished by boorishly banal
concern for social civilities.
Squeamishness never slept next to him!
But notice (not noticeably, please)
how his eyes seem furtively to flit
from yours, to gaze down at his hands,
pale and strangely delicate -- graceful!
And his cheeks are dusted with a blush,
under eyes not steely blue but liquid brown.
The other day I was rootin' around in my spouse's purse,
And was astounded by the contents that were so diverse.
If caught, I'd surely have hell to pay or maybe even worse,
And fer that very reason I shall never share with her this verse!
I was lookin' fer the spare car keys since mine I had displaced,
But was careful not to disturb her 'valuables' in my sneaky haste!
I discovered a broken pencil stub and a half-eaten Snickers bar,
A Wrigley's chewin' gum wrapper and the lid of a Mason pickle jar!
Diggin' further I found a dozen lipsticks in various sizes and hues,
And fer some reason her bag contained a couple of 3-inch screws!
Her wallet had a stash of cash that fer some reason she was hordin',
And curiously among other things was a photo of the King of Jordan!
I found an old 1980 date book which seemed to me of little use,
And wads and wads of used Kleenex which I found rather abstruse.
There was an assortment of finger nail files and emery boards,
Outdated grocery coupons and various threads, strings and cords.
I never did find the car keys after goin' through all the trouble.
They're probably lost without a trace 'midst all that useless rubble!
Thankfully, I didn't get caught or they'd be haulin' me off in a hearse,
Fer furtively rootin' around in my spouse's very personal purse!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Sometimes I spend too much time
Remembering when, remembering where –
Realizing, once again, the truths of then --
When a boy of, maybe, ten (or younger),
Shoeless, ragged, unclipped, wild-haired,
Roamed about, seeking comfort, seeking caring.
We (I, my siblings) were not treasured gifts,
But heavy burdens; our parents’
Lessons to us were: never to ask
For anything, never to complain to them,
Never to “need” anything from them.
We (and I, especially)
Learned to live furtively, steeped in urgent
Need to keep our secrets, guard the “privacy”
Meant to mislead outside onlookers
To avoid unwelcome consequences.
The young who are wise beyond their years
From deprivation, neglect, near-starvation,
Escape as early as they can but
Scars remain, and often they (we) retain
An ingrained reticence, are slow
To trust or to reveal themselves.
Rescue them, by sharing time, companionship --
And, when deserved, encouragement --
The hopefulness that the current
Slogan “It will get better” may be true.
Halloween Moon Crabs
A tide rises to leave behind hundreds of tossed colourful halloween moon crabs to stroll
Craving social connections like homeless souls furtively hunting their unsown roots
Celtic calendar hides matronly lunar freeing guised children and bodiless souls
Five more years for the halloween moon, till then crabby purple claws in orange suits
October10, 2015
Contest: Halloween Moon
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Form: Quatrain