Best Glossing Poems
To me, she could've said anything
I wanted so badly to hear her say,
"I love you and I'm gonna try."
But all she said is "I just can't stay."
She looked away, I stared her down.
I needed to see her eyes.
She looked at me and that's when I knew...
THIS IS THE DAY MY MOTHER DIES.
She died right there before me.
I watched her fade away.
Her eyes were glossing over
as I begged her "PLEASE, JUST STAY!"
She said goodbye and drove away.
I've learned to deal with loss.
But, now she says "I'm coming back!"
She doesn't know the cost.
To me she's dead, she can't come back.
She'll have to remember the day
that she died right there before me
when she said she couldn't stay.
Sometime, in July's budding charm
when the harvest of earth's clay affirms
that which exposes a content heart,
I remember a glimpse of rare delight
accepting the slow exposure of one morn
when daylight warms Grandpa’s hands
soaked in earthy glow on his farmland.
A rumbling wind turns amiable,
as bamboo drifts along lush curls
glossing the husk of our fond whispers,
oh, it is as simple as that:
his gaiety becomes an answered prayer
tasting the bliss of simple favors
bestowed by a yield of cornfields
reflecting the thrill of labor harnessed.
In a flash, I watch Gramps' hat flying
like a kite across a wispy sky,
my innocence releases a laughter’s dance
playful and blithe at age seven,
while he, born from fruits of life
ripens still, on his golden year with ease.
Rob Carmack's Golden Days
4/3/2015
Artists are not so different,
at times glossing over truth,
hiding beneath a sheen --
some extra linseed goes
a long way...
What is this cry for realism?!
Picasso sought deeper meaning
via grotesque breasts~ elongated
elephant snout limbs -- perhaps believing that
the human tale needed elevation, himself
turned off by surface vistas; his squares and
points dulled by well turned chips, projected
missile-scraps flying from Leonardo's festive lathe of
tantalizing symmetries --
We marvel equally at
Dali's vaulted extremes, teetering balance --
a bleeding martyr of old Faith; despite all his
fiend distortions, imagined glorification~
dear, yet mere echoes, stills from the sable of
an unrequited Christian brush --
So...is the poet so different?
The Metaphysical digs, tunnels,
(anthropomorphic God)
chambers and catacombs to romp
about -- secretly displacing what
would otherwise be a straightforward
pleasant lyrical walk -- We
confound paint and words
presenting two types of portrait
of the same elusive image
the greater decipher, if there is
one to be had, will never be the
product of personal tribulation,
but the spirit behind, within, carefully
feathering, dotting and dashing
each of man's extended biographies --
a dance of human veils....
The moon need not apologize for phases,
No sense of guilt even abstract assume --
It’s the human heart alone that falsely
Translates, shades and uncovers wrongly.
Seas can bear witness, 3rd eye peering
Through filtered wave. The pond alike
Shallow, no retractions necessary for glossing
Over depths.
We should Not look too closely
At one another, for often the surface is no
Cover-up but what simply rises to the
Top, given Time the Universal purifier.
How does one measure the past twenty four years
When smiles were so rare, drowned in many tears
Amidst trials and tribulations, the kids were our cement
Sadly glossing over our background with damaging intent
Trust went out the window, events were never discussed
Before I knew where I was, my life's in blatant mistrust
For many nights awake trying to decipher my way out
This I managed to achieve, now livings in with a shout
Separation, preparation, as I look to my future now
My flat, my music sanctuary, it's me that now allows
My future road I'll walk, but I'll never walk alone
For a Spanish Princess appeared, with I, she'll share my throne
This beauty who's entered my life, both to have a fresh start
I thank you my beautiful Lorena, from the bottom of my heart
For the contest "A Fresh Start" written Sunday 11th March 2012
I.
Ode the thrill of a tango
curled in clutches sleek
Elegance, a prerequisite
Add on a spun euphoria
Nimble is a turgid swoon!
Arms conduct to the aria
New skin, feels no tocsin
It's deeply in a you and i
Glazed, to the tightening
and a strangling organza
Necked into a suffocation
So go the tunnel deaths…
(1/27/2021: '02 Silverton MY; Alameda ...contest theme was murder in the tunnel)
II.
Ornately, I gild over my days a’ la fresco
Carefully, I wield molten gold, enigmatic
Elaborate must these life undulations be
as metallic sheen screens all insipid aura
New cantankerous crack? Just weld upon
and smooth the jagged with flowing flora
Now the feckless plaster sparkles golden
I spurn mawkish, like the silvered literati
glossing my craven, to caverns gleaming
Aurum weaves, in its narcissistic miasma
Nothing malodorous in self-love / loathin’
So imperious my bombastic art, it glazes!
(8.17.21 Redone at Willow Berm and DBW; theme was Craig’s Broken contest relating to Kintsugi)
The long glade rolls the lingering tongue a licking fire who can tame it the talk of the town fame the gossip of the new birth speaking on a speculating specter do you see what I am saying as words quiz by your head glossing over to see fiery darts substances of thing not see on edifying myself not alone the Word quenching the enemy the promise kept older than the sandy grit perfect before and not of the same karma He uttered Light gave rise it was so there is only One who shears the shrewd driving out the wicked tongue in life or death no more babel they heard the wonderful works of God
Gliding on moonlit waves
Gold filters through row boat,
Gondola twirls…it’s song
Gently romancing hours .
Guitar plays lovers’ dream,
Gay the breaths of passion
Glossing canoe’s night sail !
Pleiades G : Kim Merryman
12`01`2016
checked at www.howmanysyllables .com
and Webster's dictionary
O vibrant and rich January
Velvet sweet, warming the icy vine;
Her crystalline - garnet evening, bright...
Red orioles, whose lilting chorus
The snowflakes, in tinsel greet: And moon
knowing a gown's ONE STONE designs
To adorn the night!... her Capricorn
Jewel spills depicting vitality on flight,
Glossing roses on meadows awakened
From Winter's chilled poses. These restless
burst and fragrant sighs make her throttle
In joy-- bold maiden of new dawn's sky
Brian's Select 3 Contest
EVERY TUNIC’S TUCKED
squeamish that every tunic’s tucked
on one side, lopsided, uncouth
on the page, in the book - why is
every model told to tuck her hand
inside her pocket, jam her socket
into her pants, plunge me into distress.
If they want us to buy online, can’t
we size it up ourselves. I laugh
like crazy…going crazy…the lazy
love to push buttons and tuck.
well i’m out of luck, looking through
glaring pages, glossing over, needled.
insensitive to my plight? perhaps
you have your own quirk. don’t
laugh behind my back…hit me
on the chin. just don’t tuck your tunic
with your hand in one pocket. i panic
at the unprofessional modelling. i turn
away, i scorn, i feel sick. the lazy
like to set up every one the same.
their camera should be ashamed…
how lame. let me speak…let me shout.
i was kidding about the chin -
keep it to yourself…
Love's dawning in pixels bright
Endeared moment time did spite
Carefree minds with little foresight
Stilled in passion's ephemeral flight
Trendy pastels brimming with delight
Framed in glassy case so erudite
Glowing expressions that innocence did ignite
Now fatuous visages that only illusions highlight
Tender seconds shallow bond did requite
Token portrait skewed in maturity's plight
Colorful shades glossing pubescent rite
Now dulled glaze shadows a deeper insight
Two, burgeoning libidos sharing the
limelight
Now silted images that concupiscence did blight
Spiraling, spinning out of control.
Can't you tell that it's taking a toll.
Stabbing, burning, constant pain.
Sub-par eyes glossing over again.
Today's the day to finally release;
To let go, to slip into glorious peace.
Eyes hazing, head rolling, going to sleep.
Fog thickens, head spinning; won't somebody weep.
Look up as she dies, bright skies turning gray.
No one would save her, goodbye sunny days.
Can mirth shadow sorrow,
glossing it to gay heights
where eyes shine in gaiety
and cheeks dimple with grins
or shall they pall and droop
to frowns and wrinkles?
Can tomorrow be today or
today be yesterday or yesterday be tomorrow?
Can you die before you are born
or be born before conception?
Does it bother you that it bothers me
when you are bothered?
At times I laugh when crying
and cry when laughing!
It’s a mystery I know,
but then mysteries are what I know
so tell me,
can mirth shadow sorrow
or sorrow mar mirth?
Red, the colour covers my arms
Deep within are glass shards
Show me no mercy and send no regards
Don't stitch me up and cover my scars
Cut my lips, tell them I'm smiling
Every day, I keep on lying
Dishonesty quickly gets very tiring
I'm slowly rotting, slowly expiring
If anybody actually cared
Would I really be pulling my hair?
Would I really be cutting my skin?
Pulling my tendons like puppet strings?
Would my heart really miss him?
As I try to pour out all my sins
If sins were black, all would be darkness
An evil void, lonely and heartless
Choking on sadness and blinded by madness
Isolated vastness, I am feeling anxious
Razors are paintbrushes, skin is my canvas
If it's not depression, then it is malice
Before I lay in my coffin
You see my blood glossing
My eyes water as I see you panic
And my existence slowly vanish
I observe my bleeding wrists
Moving towards the sleeping mist
On bloody notes, I weakly reminisce
Wondering of my needing to exist
My skin is burning but it is not incinerated
My vision is blurry, my mind is intoxicated
My body is hollow, neatly eviscerated
I choke on rose petals, I am suffocating
We wanted you to be our friend
Demanding favors, wanted you to
Join us
We try so hard to make you dead
Don't worry- pain is kind of pleasure
Child
We're here
That's all we really are
We're broken
You're broken too
Memories
They're all in your head
The past is here to take you back!
Warming memories you lack
Memory has just been rotten
Sweet old times all now forgotten
Mindless scream misunderstanding
Porcelain dolls are still demanding
Can't believe that you're still standing
Cat, dear child please come closer
Our soulless eyes are glossing over
Porcelain skin, cracking quickly
Your tiny frame, trembling meekly
How now, you're looking sickly
Happiness will last forever
We will always be together
Oh dear Cat there is no fear now
You have seen us somewhere, somehow
Guess you broke your final vow
Finally your small mind recalls
Us two red suited porcelain dolls.
Hey Cat, do you remember us yet?
Last lines of each stanza: Join us. Child. You're broken too. Warming memories you lack. Can't believe that you're still standing. How now, you're looking sickly. Guess you broke your final vow.