Best Glassed Poems
As starlit night glows, half-lit cast
To blaze soul's faith along a dream
And hears my wish ‘pon a river glassed,
That spills of love’s trails, agleam.
I covet deep my prayer's lore
As starlit night glows,half-lit cast
Igniting air from life's ardor
Where arms hold unto peace steadfast.
Oh lyre, my tune; from crescent's mast
This whispered invocation sung,
As starlit night glows, half-lit cast
From loud noises through days prolonged.
The moon dims, my soulful hums rest
On tender lifetime unsurpassed,
When heaven grants this need's request
As starlit night glows half-lit cast.
Contest: Your Favourite Old Poem #3
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
12/19/2014
Categories:
glassed, inspirational, peace,
Form:
Rhyme
I am your god
You worship at my altar
Yet I offer you no salvation
My glassed fingers
Boiling liquid answers
Hypothesis's inconsistencies
I promise
I entice
Stretching minds to new possibilities
Some are offered health and wellness
Comfort
Ecstasy
I am virility in a blue pill
Cancers enemy
A diabetic's reason to celebrate
I am a surgeons hand
I am more
Yet I take
I wound
I baffle
You are unable to wield my power
I am atomic
Power to warm
Light your darkened hallways
Melt the skin from your bones
I am disappearing ozone
The death of your oceans
Viruses strengthened by your wisdom
I am the answers to questions you don't wish answered
I point you to another
Yet you are blind
You cannot see
You worship at my altar
Yet I offer no salvation
Personifying Science contest.
Written September 14th 2013
Categories:
glassed, science,
Form:
Personification
MISSING PERSON
Saw him sitting on the curb weeping,
pompous parades of the self righteous
passing “his” children – in disgust.
Eyes glistened through the tears
hands trembling as if to control himself
he rose – as if to speak….
was jostled by passersby, cursed at
by glassed in motorists, mocked
by the children on a passing school bus.
Approaching the synagogue
he was rebuffed by the rabbi,
a relived experience.
The churches, gilded doors locked,
advertised Sunday services
and a trip to Fox Woods Casino.
Saw him sitting on the curb weeping
accompanied by a stray dog
that licked the wounds in his hands.
John G. Lawless
10/26/2015
Categories:
glassed, irony,
Form:
Free verse
"Romance in the Reflections of the Steely Green-Eyed"
Romance is in the
reflections of the
steely green-eyed
time stolen and framed
bars to freedom
champagne dreams remain
the prisoner’s heart ignominious
kept safely in a treasure box
poetry lies laconic in the lap
kept criminally magnanimous
a hand gently caresses
a missing mind
pulling out unheard
singular words
famished and ravenous wings
flying off the transponding
power lines
black-feather quilled
screaming
a life sentence
singular words
sautéed in three lines
missing in milky moonlight
softly floats spectral
room to room mute
engaging the unaware
passing through
all the eternal years
damned alongside
all the voiceless hosts
tapping fingers like a ghost
S.O.S. morse code
on windows glassed over
lackadaisical and frosted cold
on the outside
we dance Munch mime
trapped in the
History of a Wasted Mind
solitary and confined
'til death do us part
dark and stormy vilified
electric veined
cold silver heart
feigning tame
kept on a dangling chain
a pendant looping
like an aerial display
haunting blue sky’s
moth-life tiger coiled
sabre toothed
calculating and refined
Romance is held hostage
in the reflections of
the steely-green eyed
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
“Me Time” / Paloma Faith
https://youtu.be/8YXudiBR1oY
https://www.navy.gov.au/aircraft/de-havilland-tiger-moth
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Garden_tiger_moth
Categories:
glassed, freedom, journey, muse,
Form:
Free verse
"Puzzle Stomped"
Pieces scattered
placed on a table
with boundaries
between
the incarcerated margins
there are strict conditions
Time drips
its wet connection
each piece a stair fitted
imperfectly
perfect
towards upwards
new mirror reflection
a cracked heart piercing
the tear with savage dedication
behind her veil
the known Morpheus assails
her compromised senses
holding her captured
behind the external view
eyes blindfolded
the blue sashes now let loose
opening green windows to
free the redressed vicissitudes
to undress the crisp breeze of her
monk chanting wake
a new phantom arrives caressing secrets
gambled on a fresh Delius
composing his unfinished symphony
he’s looking for her singular notes
Somewhere,
he stands behind her
sharp as a needle,
cutting tall poppy
each step she takes
towards her freedom gate
In his hands he cups
the hidden
missing piece
The sewing of pages
she continues to bind
in her sleep
along a strong spine
turning and folding stories
uncommon ne'er sublime
their spelt magic
grows majestically spoilt
seeded from a sweet perfume
conducting intoxicating notes
stories flying black-winged
off all the slippery knaves
and wax-sealed pages
like ebony feathers
mummerating starlings
turn into suffocating
dream stealing
king crows smiling maces
She the Smythsewer
laying tenuous imprints
for a new road home
He the myth Beyond
shakes the game board
peace in pieces, a long forgotten song
the chance card thrown
the blanket of romance
thundering over a stormy mind grows
patch worked with glassed-in
jarred ghost bees, the old
puzzle of a story stomped on
He places his feet
firmly between hers
closing in on time
Beyond takes her hand
And sensually whispers
along all her fairest fears
sweeping all pieces off her
tattered story board
fallen irretrievable
forgotten
left lacking
on the harsh floor
Cum dederit
dilectis suis somnum,
Ecce haereditas
to the tune of fate
there is so much more
the words are sewn and sung
the child in time fled
long gone, as if all was pure fantasy
destiny arrives supernaturally too soon
Time for a new story
He says darkly
and swiftly closes
Past’s door.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Categories:
glassed, dream, fate, romance,
Form:
Romanticism
the day we wed
a tear I shed
and said "love you"
with love true blue
I had my life
to be your wife
we had such joy
when we heard boy
a boy in me
we would soon see
god had a plan
for our boy stan
born dead and still
it was god's will
we heard those words
with songs of birds
our boy was dead
you hung your head
I lost you then
but I found zen
you were so sad
not to be dad
each day was worse
soon in a hearse
we could not talk
you would just walk
thoughts in your head
my poor heart bled
you drove too fast
the road was glassed
dear, did you moan
my name- when thrown
_______________________
January 30, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/did you moan my name
Copyright Protected, ID 18-9873-51-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, 128 Words
sponsor, Silent One
Second Place
Categories:
glassed, death, grief,
Form:
Rhyme
AntiPoem 2
You know only one thing and that is:
Dying is not on the agenda.
Let us march now inside St. Mary’s,
March reverently through these green repentant doors,
These holy portals to grace and absolution,
Into a stain-glassed sanctuary of sinners kneeling in disguise,
These sullied souls coming in through the out door again,
Figuring death is furloughed from the crucifixion business,
Two thousand blurry years later.
Let us still march forward now to the glassed tabernacle,
Resting up there ensconced upon the marble altar,
Beyond human touch;
The host inside now transubstantiating as with earthen time,
From dry crusty oatmeal,
To omnipotent King of the Universe.
The boy holds his new Sunday missal,
As the family drives to ancient St. Joseph’s,
Up the asphalt hill, there on Gold Street,
Amidst the tentative Yuletide presentations,
Of tinsel-lit trees and blinking avenue abodes.
In the distance Lady Lassen wears a white bonnet,
As the Redding Christmas Tree stands exuberant,
Seventy-three feet into the icy air on Market Street,
A rainbow-glowing giant with a thousand staring eyes.
Brenda Lee is singing,
Rocking Around the Christmas Tree,
From blaring radios inside Oldsmobiles and Studebakers,
Cruising Placer Street to the Cascade showing Butterfield 8.
The boy is counting the neon cocktails,
While riding in the backseat on blue polyurethane,
His father is intently driving the blue ’58 impala,
Into a gravelly hilltop parking lot.
Blaring outward from the church there I heard voices,
A bubbling sacramental bouillabaisse of silent
Parishioners all genuflecting in pristine Latin confusion.
The girls choir wearing skirts of curious plaid, is
Singing loudly and softly their angelic vocal renderings:
“Gloria in excelsis Deo"
Father Elliot is extending his arms outward now,
Bestowing the final expectant blessing;
He is giving absolution to the captives driving Cadillacs.
You know only one thing and that is:
Dying is not on the agenda.
Categories:
glassed, memory,
Form:
Free verse
Weaving passed the everyday conflict,
Tiresomeness affair,
Life's obstacle.
Needle point into basket case,
Forced made to hold rotten fruit,
Mindful of matter foolishness of others.
Faith seems to slip from the hand,
Into the far yonder no reaching.
Closed eyes,
Let's play a game,
Resting at the poetry cafe.
Opened rooftop,
Glassed walls,
Seeing beauty of loveliness encicling,
Moment now to enjoy peace.
Drinking wine of poetic,
Drunken by loving words of making,
Poetry sing on scrolls.
Breezing through the muse heart,
Carrying a blanket mist from the ocean depth,
Flowing with touch spell of tickling sea current,
Letting the pen dance between season thoughts.
Paper chuckling as the ink stain letters of spelling.
Even if five minutes,
Enough,
Keeping one in the sane.
So just leave eyes shut,
Smile.
Seeing poetry cafe is waiting,
Anytime of the day,
Even in one's dream,
By night-
Categories:
glassed, confusion, imagination, uplifting, poetry,
Form:
Glassed Waters
Heavy Cobalt
Bejeweled of morning star
Mirroring beauty
Tranquil Waters
Azure eyed
Life of only this moment
Presuming nothing
Allayed Waters
Emerald warmth
Splashing of morning glory
Animated Verve
Sweet Waters
Cooling Jade
Scented deep in spring rain
Swelling rebirth
Still Waters
Sapphire subtle
Filling drops of gentle ardor
Granting hope
Categories:
glassed, happiness, hope, inspirational, life,
Form:
Carpe Diem
Morning Thoughts
By: Miracle Man
1-10-2020
This morning,
Shadows from days gone, whisper past;
Of other times, other people, other places.
“Dust Bunnies” from psyche’s unswept corners,
where so long they’ve rested undisturbed.
Some so vague they no longer have faces,
just names, or circumstances.
I sit, eyes half glassed, bathing in thoughts
that crawl across my mind like a Snail,
and now vanishing with the speed of a Cheetah.
Categories:
glassed, memory, nostalgia, people, places,
Form:
Free verse
In gentle breeze, a prism swings,
until each side has felt the sway
It hangs there by a thread of string
while waiting for the sun to play.
Sun passes by, so brief a glance
refracting light from morning skies
And soon my eyes must do a dance,
entranced by all the butterflies !
Thrown against the wall as dice
Into a million moths that clone
from splintered sunlight, color- spliced,
as clear as ice, precisely honed.
And as it twirls, more colors soar
With constellations telescoped
They rise up deep from prism's core
as if to make kaleidoscopes.
Walls gather up the rainbow's hue
Stain-glassed winglets for my view
Although I try to catch a few
They fly away, ...while sun does too.
____________________________________________________
For Contest Sponsored By Julia Ward
"A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies"
Categories:
glassed, imagery, light, sun,
Form:
Quatrain
Plunged into darkness the coarsen tempest struck,
Shattering the silence calm facade.
Raging with passion reverberating laughter,
The gales unrelenting moaning and thrashing
Provoked and spawn inscrutable terror.
Hidden in the darkness by torrential rain
And shadows of the ardent temperament
vigorous gales and waves;
The lone sentinel peered out enthralled.
It began to shudder and tremble
Uncontrollably, but unmoving
Casting the gales a wicked smile
With its brilliant warning.
Arching over with pleasured force,
Winds raised the waves with a pounding rhythm,
Embracing and probing
For entrance with explosive weight.
Unleashing its briny wrath,
The tempest amuses itself
Toying upon the ships
With a deadly game of cat and mouse.
A calm comes over sooths the storm, whilst sunlight
Through a stain glassed window painting the rippling surface.
A final breath of woven weariness emerged from within.
7/17/2017
According to the Gospels:
He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to his disciples, "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?" They were terrified and asked each other, "Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!"
Categories:
glassed, light, rain, sea, storm,
Form:
Free verse
Winter Fantasia.
Snowman, his coat a trillion frosty threads...crotched by Jack,
the naughty mischief maker.
Each crystal cast perfect by Boreas. #
Blizzard bullies, bustling, jig-sawed sleet,
crystallized in my mindscape of imagery.
Winter Sun dares to melt you down, pasty white.
Your peculiar perfume, suggests ice cubes soaked in lemon-crush.
Shiver, quiver. As goose-bumps frazzle your Arctic world
the moon shines crazy, diamond flames hang in the lonely sky.
I materialise you...the absent person,
I colour the scene with my paintbrush and bucket.
Bold, stiff... blow a bon-bon kiss,
you sentry on snow-laden ice,
under heaven-hung, bunting stars...
a diamante necklace, swanked by Nyx, Greek Goddess of the Night.
Platted rainbows twist, entwine hues, illuminate
a fibre-glassed squirrel who morphs into a swirl of peppermint puffs
and whirls round in muffled silence.
Rouge-crested Robin rests on cold shoulder, then
alights on umber wings...
Ruby stained Snowman chuckles like river ripples,
egg-white flakes dying to pirouette,
airborne ballerinas, swivelling, spinning...
from knitted, silken clouds, finer than a Fuschia’s blush.
Come Spring sprinkles of Lime grass and creamed Crocus
blanket my view where you once stood.
Reality or imagination, I am the speaker of this poem,
so Jack, draw fern-like patterns on my windows, then
run away with Nymph shadows...
Even the wind dies happy.
# Boreas...Greek God of Winter.
Categories:
glassed, beauty, fantasy, happiness, nature,
Form:
Narrative
Swelling tide billows in with ultimate force,
insulting bronze sandy shoreline on its course.
Tossing creatures about in brine water home,
mixing, churning into a white frothy foam.
Against blue horizon velvet waters peer to merge,
illusion vanishes with every sea wavelet surge.
Eyes search far beyond azure ocean so vast,
replicates placidity recently glassed….
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Categories:
glassed, sea
Form:
Couplet
From the glaze of winter's mantle
Springtime hues seem longer than time's wait,
As the nip of icy breezes
Faintly frosts each slant of grass.
Yet for all I crave the fresh rustle
Of sweet April's lustrous days,
Who could not rejoice in watching
December's view starting to gleam?
That in this very clear moment
I embrace the merry flakes on my skin,
Relishing a season's hum of contentment
Imbued with lyre of a choir's prayer;
As every glassed petal enthralls my eyes
Bearing soil and tinting my garden
Gold, red as flamed poinsettias
While I hold this place of here and now,
If only to cherish this fleeting wonder.
P D's In the Moment Contest
12/28/2014
Categories:
glassed, space, today,
Form:
Free verse