Best Glazes Poems
I leave the sun-dappled autumn sidewalk, entering the office
The empty chair there lingers.
dark tendrils coiling in my mind—
my blind rage pleading for quiet healing.
flashbacks clash like striking thunder
opening buried treasures of truth.
and in that final brand searing cry
My heart reborn, mindlessly adrift in spectral mist.
I gladly depart as sleet glazes, streets so slick…..
Pulling with hands soft and smooth as glazed clay,
Her foot prods the pedal, turning the wheel.
She basks in the bliss of a beautiful mess.
She's learned art is born from that carefree mess.
Moulding with hands caked in layers of clay,
She makes artwork dance on that spinning wheel.
Her bones creak along with the aging wheel,
Silver hair spattered by flecks of sweet mess.
She glazes with hands rough and cracked as dried clay.
Beyond clay and wheel, life spins a fine mess.
*Form: Tritina
Unrhymed tercets
The Withdrawing Room
Huddled together in this abstemious grey chamber
no windows or means of escape walls closing in
trapped where the un-sanctified transactions are made
Daunting without exit the silent screams go unheard
ashen skin with darting eyes never looking up
forever too frightened of seeing the truth reflected back
In the unholy grail in visions of comrades within this un-sacred act of ransom
the collective voice of the masked chorus urging them on wards
then the integrated tragedy of hidden fears and secrets
A living sacrifice under this bargain where no one wins or gains
without boundaries of mortal limits there exists in this gunmetal airless demise
unfettered woefulness and vainglory vie for victory
The innocent victim's now the pawn's forgotten as pride twists obscurities
severing the umbilical cord drowning breaths of existence
the sterile smell of unfinished lives permeating into the coal and ice
Tiny little footprints always remain's inside the womb's silenced facts
the living water of life breaks no longer flows through the natural cord
leaving a chorus of continuous phantom's chanting in mendacious unity
Opening the door of perdition where the tactical glare of a butchers knife
held under a ghostly specter of a child that might have been treasured
a face imagined but never seen and names never uttered
A tortured remembrance of a pardon held precious beauty once
soon the vapour of shame burns off in an emptiness that still remains
glazes over a ruby rare passion
Where fear & the constant loathing cannot fathom the uncertainties
this future brings forth in the immenseness of what might have been
not touching the soul properly
The unborn yet to speak?
silenced unadorned gone forever jewel's
always held within prayers of the faithful loving grace
a co written piece by Liam Mcdaid & Donna Loughman
hazy morn has broken
as silhouette of solitary boat
silently sails on Thames river
where a steam train just passed
on pallid emerald bridge
leaving a titanium smoke
that glazes the atmosphere
with a gentle kiss of mist
reflections of the sun rising
a blend of peach and tangerine
mirrored on the still water
spell a fleeting moment
of dappled sunlight
whilst the Charing cross bridge
is a relic of ephemeral link
connecting two people in love
9 May 2021
Reference: Charing Cross Bridge is a series of oil paintings by French artist Claude Monet. The paintings depict a misty, impressionist Charing Cross Bridge in London, England. Monet worked on the series from 1899 to 1905, creating a total of 37 paintings depicting the bridge. ( Photo and Info credits to Wikipedia)
All Yours(May 9)Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
1st place
Embers and snowflakes, fire and ice;
Opposites joined in many ways.
Embers from fire, snowflakes from ice;
Both can portend the end of days.
Ozone depletes, sunrays pierce through;
Fires scorch Earth- hot embers sear rifts.
Smog fills the sky- sunrays are blocked.
Ice glazes earth, snowflakes build drifts.
Embers and snowflakes, fire and ice;
Which ending for us will it be?
Humans of Earth, turn a blind eye
Forgetting that we hold the key.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Desire and hatred, fire and ice,
Opposites joined in many ways;
Fire fuels desire, and ice molds hate;
Both can portend the end of days.
Desires for gain, passions go wild
To dictate command of the world.
Ice fills the veins of those who hate.
Explosions of anger unfurled.
Desire and hatred, fire and ice-
Which ending for us will it be?
Humans of Earth, turn a blind eye;
Forgetting that we hold the key.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Fire and ice, the end of days-
Embers and snowflakes, desire, hate;
Opposites joined in many ways.
We, end of our world, may create.
The River
The river sings its sweet lament
in ancient voice softly lowing,
vibrant melodies subtly meant
to plumb the depths of our knowing.
Around each bend it curves, flowing
onward toward its fated reunion
with unkempt sea, wild and blowing;
embracing briney communion.
Its serpentine course scars the land
in undulant brown profusion;
shimmering gold in twilight's hand,
a gift of nature's effusion.
Pregnant spring plies it, unleashing
tempest's turgid downpour to slake
the lusty spate's thirst unceasing,
leaving ravaged marl in its wake.
Torrid summer's breath chars the soil
and saps the river of its strength,
but cool and sweet, the river's toil
paints a green ribbon down its length.
Demon winter glazes the earth,
garbs the river in frigid gown,
draws a pane of ice over its girth
but fails to stay its flowing down.
Since time out of mind, the river
has carved canyons from stubborn stone
and sought naught but to deliver
its lifeblood back to heaven's home.
Huddled together in this abstemious grey chamber
no windows or means of escape walls closing in
trapped where the un-sanctified transactions are made
Daunting without exit the silent screams go unheard
ashen skin with darting eyes never looking up
forever too frightened of seeing the truth reflected back
In the unholy grail in visions of comrades within this un-sacred act of ransom
the collective voice of the masked chorus urging them on wards
then the integrated tragedy of hidden fears and secrets
A living sacrifice under this bargain where no one wins or gains
without boundaries of mortal limits there exists in this gunmetal airless demise
unfettered woefulness and vainglory vie for victory
The innocent victim's now the pawn's forgotten as pride twists obscurities
severing the umbilical cord drowning breaths of existence
the sterile smell of unfinished lives permeating into the coal and ice
Tiny little footprints always remain's inside the womb's silenced facts
the living water of life breaks no longer flows through the natural cord
leaving a chorus of continuous phantom's chanting in mendacious unity
Opening the door of perdition where the tactical glare of a butchers knife
held under a ghostly specter of a child that might have been treasured
a face imagined but never seen and names never uttered
A tortured remembrance of a pardon held precious beauty once
soon the vapour of shame burns off in an emptiness that still remains
glazes over a ruby rare passion
Where fear & the constant loathing cannot fathom the uncertainties
this future brings forth in the immenseness of what might have been
not touching the soul properly
The unborn yet to speak?
silenced unadorned gone forever jewel's
always held within prayers of the faithful loving grace
a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
Quietly, feathered soles steal across fields
soft as Choctaw spirits' slipping shadows;
frescoed frost glazes summer remnants of pumpkin and persimmon.
The blackberry moon bends low,
pursed lips lingering and slow above Earth's alabaster face.
Past and present blend in one short span
when winter woos the autumn moon.
February 23, 2022
The late morning light glazes the lake,
pierces, with stems and stalks of lily and reed.
Shadows freeze like lashes upon the limpid surface
of still water fracturing the sky-blue to black.
Iris of earthen orb, brush back the unruly screen of vision,
rub the cinders from night's lingering trace,
awake from the mire of silted dream.
Let the wind, your laggard lover,
rise a frolicking and remove each lash
with the gentle touch of fingertip.
More often, this soul stretches
farther than the breath of a moon....
and through jaded eyes,
I saunter on the ledge of woodland,
past time's curfew and sharp lacerations
from kin's betrayal : a wanton walk
glazes the ripeness of cherries----
that such pageant from susurrus of woods
weaves a new , disparate tune.
I twirl along pebbles and sand,
kindling night's liniment
glorious as the slow climb of dusk...
this shard of pain spewing a wanton blaze
--radiant like a celestial star rising
from chambers, healing my ache
and waking pewter stones
while I half- slumber in a lull...
and I wrap my navel in soft linen,
the flickering, feathering night
differently cloaked in such nourished balm.
--I must be changed, my world honoring piety,
a lesson on life's lesion imbued through
the fragrant balm of my long , journey's song.
Dream follows ambition in fervent fervor.
Runs in rapture drinking dormant desire.
Endless dream to flow like restless river.
Aglow dream glazes for whole life entire.
Meet your dream to fulfil till you expire.
All seasons romp through nightfall, dawn, and rain
With leaves prancing as breezes lead their way ,
A tango of summer glazes the spotlight
When boughs display a fired tap to excite.
Soon, autumn bares her petals in orange
To foxtrot with the moon, sleek like curved trees
Cascading on lanes robed in amber and gold
A rhythmic glide that makes chilled buds unfold.
Though winter mellows when snow meets the dark
December spins a waltz, pacing her gait;
Unlike springtime, raw fragrance in new bloom
Wild rumba thrills high from a floral costume.
Seasons bounce along tempos, each one rare
Welcoming cycles filled with pirouettes
Their symbol of thanks to God for nature’s dance;
Oh dames of joy, bring moments of romance!
A Season's Dance Contest, Gail Doyle
by nette onclaud
10.8.13
I soak in his charcoal fingers drenching my buds
when nightfall rips the hem of my skin,
a coral fire glazes upon our mouths
and the lion in him kneads flammable
grinds: that the soaring heat in lilac glare,
in fragrant sweat of navajo curves;
ripen the mounds along a bodice trembling …
Once, twice, thrice with gentle fondness
crawling on outstretched harlequin dome--
in the lure of amber moon dipping—we
could not speak beyond walls in ash etches …
and like hungry souls let loose by sapphire mist,
the ginger sweetness of craving
finally explodes on hammock’s ruby-like gyre.
Silent One’s United Colors: Colourfication
................
Charcoal, coral, lilac navajo, harlequin,
amber, ash, sapphire, ginger, ruby
3/16/2016
MY BEAUTY
Piece by piece
I will remove them
I will undo them now.
I will undress now
Like the stripper you wish me to be
I will throw them at you
Daring you to grab them
Measuring how vast your desire is
Seeing your indecision on whether
To hold the pieces
Or to touch my nakedness.
I will gently remove my starched headpiece
That sits majestically on my head
And finger comb my shaggy shrubby hair
Knotted lifeless on my head.
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your loving eyes?
I will with particular care unclasp my gold earrings
That have been winking all night at you
And leave dark scarred earlobes
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your yearning eyes?
I will unadorn my neck
Tugging away the heavy priceless pearls
That have hung around my neck
And leave my almost invisible neck
Bare to your glance
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your worshipping eyes?
I will with precision and concision unclasp my floral printed blouse
That has fitted me to perfection all evening
To reveal my wrinkled saggy breasts
That have obeyed the law of gravity
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your coveting eyes?
I will slowly push my pencil skirt
That has hugged my curves adoringly
I will sway with it as it travels down
Revealing flabby cellulite infected folds of flesh
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your worshipping eyes?
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For my beauty
Is what really glazes your eyes
Not so?
The stars whisk through the sky.
I move to a city a hundred miles away.
The moon glazes upon the shimmering ocean blue.
I rest my arms across the table contemplating whether this could be false or true.
A supernova collapses light years in the past.
Our love would never last.
The universe on it’s great expansion,
as our distance had an abortion.