Best Gorged Poems
Its delicate wings no longer wet, it stretched well,
And flew up high holding onlookers in its spell.
Round and around it danced over the eerie pond
All covered with water lilies but not beyond.
Elation, euphoria, joy and disbelief,
Emotions fell as it landed on fragrant leaf.
Up again, its gossamer wings attaining strength,
As once again it fluttered across the pond's length.
Hungry it spied a tasty bug, gorged on its feed,
Then instinct urged it to find its first mate to breed.
The feat accomplished, it resumed its fullest flight
Knowing full well it needed rest before twilight.
Survival of the fittest it had never learned.
Bird ate it up, that natural death it had earned.
I saw her sitting in a wheel chair,
crippled, mute and almost hairless,
over pumped with chemotherapy,
and aged more than she really was.
Yet I prefer to remember the one date
we had a long, long time ago.
Oh how she laughed that day
as we swam in a lonely bay,
stumbling on the wet sand,
tumbling and turning, the white grit
covering our bodies, infiltrating our suits.
Finally we jumped into the sea, dived down
to bathe amongst sea horses and anemones,
and kiss beneath the shimmering surface of the sea.
Later that night we danced to soft music,
gorged on the sweet smelling bar-b-q piglet,
and drank homemade sweet wine.
Not for you, my mother said, and I was mad.
But mum was right. Soon my date married,
had four delightful girls, till she escaped with them
and with a rich man to another place, another state,
until ill fate struck. And seeing her thus disabled,
tears welled in my eyes, not only for what she had become,
but most of all, for what she could have been.
Alas I will never forget…..
Where does the
selfless sun hide
when heavens
r a i n bloodstones?
Burned and inscribed,
from monsoon monsters,
gnawing at our bones,
the shimmering
darkness imbibed,
If only drifting
shades
of gray,
where the tempests
of hell sway,
would hear the hymns
I sleep to
when the clouds steal on cue
the soul of illuminating skies.
I listen to the echoing symphony
of s i l e n t sighs,
convincing soothingly,
pulling me back to soar
new h i g h s
amongst electric choirs,
as angels swiftly swing,
on saffron strings,
to the bass of cellos rising,
above tuscan tambourines.
Yet, I keep drowning
in needless tears,
from pearlized
ponds of fears,
seeing life as how it
has always been forged,
a disappointment
fed through
filthy forks,
who’ve gorged
on the first
of every scintillating
ray of light.
But, what if the sun, too,
needs a savior?
Like an eternal
gem that beams
upon dreary dawns set upon her
draining every
heavy lampshade
of s t a r s
within spheres of novae,
lest the opulence give
way to bruise and decay.
Perhaps, grim gales
gusting in
wrathful bursts
shall finally be the
serenity I need
for I’ve tilled every field
of hurts like raspberry
from the scent
of rose water,
For sometimes,
that’s all it takes,
heeding to freeze through
malevolent thorns in icy lakes.
The great Serengeti's broad
face lies in the African sun,
dry, weathered, cracked,
thirsty for the season.s tears
Storm clouds gather on her
brow like an old lady's curls
Promises, promising
An empty promise
...The rains are too late
The children of the Serengeti
lie down on her dusty bosom,
never to rise again
A desperate waiting fills the
air
At last, a single drop of rain
falls on the delicate skin of
the vast plain, then another
and another
There but for an instant,
before it vanishes into the
scorched earth
Another drop, then ten, then
dozens, then hundreds, until
the broad face that is the
Serengeti smears through the
downpour
Watering holes fill and
breach, streams and rivers run
like locomotives
Mysterious fish pop out of the
mud
Sweet grasses leap up in the
night
Yesterday the majestic
canvas was devoid of life
Today, overflowing, a palette
gorged with color and life…
the cycle begins anew
The Serengeti awakes!
Streaks of pink 'cross morning skies.
Land shaded lemon; last star dies…
Lightening blue spreads far and wide,
a half red sun. New dawn’s arrived.
This living desert yawns and wakes.
A foreign sparrow flits and takes
what morsel that darkness denied
to night feeders who now hide.
The sun begins its golden rise.
Shadows bear before my eyes.
Range of mountains now in view
look purple hazed and crumpled too.
A gentle breeze blows cool and soft.
A drifting hawk soars past aloft.
A static call echo's the morning.
Somewhere close, the first days warning.
There's golden bloom on mulga's face,
saltbush combines in shadow space,
a rabbit warren mounds the sand!
Three's company seems hand in hand.
The rugged hillside carved away,
gorged and furrowed brown and gray.
Eroded sand displays the shale,
where layered seams look to impale.
Tufted grasses dry and withered,
amongst that broken shale that slivered.
Stand out quartz already bright;
The rising sun turns glistening white.
A different swallow, black and white;
blue backed wrens dart out of sight.
Sunning now on walking tracks,
lay together; shingle backs.
And now the scene spreads far and wide,
to struggling wattle; sheer cliff side.
On closer look near at the base,
three kangaroos take a two-step pace.
Stillness lingers, there's an unknown call,
what bird is that? I love them all!
And the red plain grows beneath blue skies,
as the living desert welcomes sunrise.
A sword of the heavens did glean
From railings and arbors
of dead thorn and bramble,
where ghostly reminders remain
Fall droplets of blood ‘pon
a crimson embroider
left carelessly out in the rain
Our story begins
in a deep mountain valley,
a village so peaceful and free
When one day the darkness
did unsheathe its horror
with metal and death you will see
The army of Satan,
a wicked battalion,
Hell’s fire their sabers were forged
Dark Skeletal visions
in leather and armor
the depths of the earth had been gorged
With razor sharp weapons,
they slashed and delivered
such pain which had never been found
Through echoes of pleading
and lives quickly ending
in puddles, thick red on the ground
While women and children
were herded like cattle
in mass to the edge of the square
With onyx eyes leering,
midst snickers and cackles,
their captors insanely did stare
When on the horizon
a light brightly shining,
engulfing this nightmarish scene
A porcelain stallion,
its rider a shadow,
a sword of the heavens did glean
From steel hard as granite,
angelic depictions,
a handle of pure solid gold
Once heard in a fable,
when wizards were roaming
such power, the stories foretold
As swift as an arrow
he entered the village,
his steed all at one with the game
With blade silver glistened,
like lightning bolts flashing,
igniting a righteous born flame
Spinning and thrusting
as if a tornado,
a blur now incensed of the glow
With whirlwind fury
and dust clouded thunder,
he dealt them a terrible blow
The evil fueled army,
beheaded and fallen,
the villagers shouted and cheered
When to their amazement,
this heroic savior
as quick as he’d come, disappeared
So there is the story,
a sword made in heaven
is now part of history’s reign
Along with the rider
who wielded its honor,
and hopes he will come back again
9/13/18
Written for the UNSHEATH YOUR SWORD Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
There is no waiting in the silence
raining down
on a sun drenched afternoon
gorged and greeted
fire
burning bright
mint leaf scents
turquoise fields of play
acquiescence moments
left here to stay
smoke rises
fills the earth with warmth
her essence
a flower
the scent of apple
rich and ripe
imagined
heartfelt bites
gently pierce the skin
on the edge winsome
it's her
savoured
once again
Once upon a midnight, ghostly,
Partied many, dead ones mostly.
Feasting in the graveyard, sprightly,
White eyed werewolves gorged, engrossedly.
In the bone yard, drab and squalid,
Apparitions (staring stolid
Neath the veiled moon, clouded lightly)
Sought fresh bodies, lean but solid.
Fiendish eyes shone, light and sparkly,
Ghouls and demons danced so darkly.
Maggots munching mush unsightly,
Black blood streamed like ink, quite starkly.
Fetid flesh oozed, flowing freely
Through the crypt doors, cold and steely.
Shadows, ashen, pranced contritely,
Ebon serpents slithered eely.
As it happens, all too often,
Zombies dimly closed the coffin –
Ra, the sun god, rising slightly
Hunger pangs were soon to soften.
If you ask, I’ll tell you blankly,
When you’re feeling dark and dankly
Come to where this happens nightly.
They’ll enjoy the feast, quite frankly...
Chaste and more graceful
Than the white canvassed Dhow:
Reclines sweet Nefertiti
Upon a Blue Nile breeze.
Fabled entity more whiter
Than the purest white snow
That thickly blankets
And folds over the wide Pyrenees.
Dipped is thy beak
Into a harvesters August sunset;
A Bohun proper,
Gorged and chained with a crown;
Tipped Argent quills
Thus scrawl across royal warrants:
Plodding, punctilious creature -
Of high born renown!
Proudly thy trumpet Lancastrian ascension,
Emblazoned on a Heraldic shield;
Pomp and indignation
Paddling alongside contemptuous scorn;
Sinuous neck of Serpentine undulations
Tensioned as if a Longbow -
On whose plaited strings
The sturdy Yeomans Bodkins were drawn!
And did Columbines mask
Ever hold such indignant eyes
For whose feathered heart
The diligent cob did attend?
His sedulous efforts
To court within impassioned grunts
When intertwining throats
Do abouts and lovingly wend.
O, Cygnus olor!
En monde bosse - glittering Dunstable jewel;
Pen and immortal verse
Chart beside heavens gilded streams.
For under old mariners discarded stars
And above silvered byways:
Whoop the beat of dusted wings
Inside slumbering clouds wandering dreams.
I was working for John Arnold fitting out some shower screens.
"Make sure you're wearing armored pants" had me wonder what he means.
Then he handed me an order form; John Booth’s house was my trip.
‘Boothys’ bloody heeler dog snuck up behind and gave a nip.
I screamed out "You flamin’ mongrel!" My tools flew into the air.
‘Boothy’ stood at the door and grinned at my immediate despair.
I quickly lifted up my pants and blood was flowing everywhere.
"I'll ring the hospital” he said - “Now you get on over there".
Sitting in outpatients waiting for a doctor to be free,
a nurse said I could be an hour. That really didn't suit me.
I wandered past the wards and said g'day to those upon their own,
then started yarning with an old bloke who also was alone.
He told me of his troubles, and all the pills he had to take;
on how he had trouble eating. How he yearned for a steak,
'cause now he's old and toothless; only soft foods tasting great,
then uttered "Eat these roasted almonds on this plate."
I gorged on them; they're beautiful, and they had that smoky taste.
He said "Go on and eat the lot, they'll only go to waste"
And so I did; fifty or more, then thanked him and said good-bye.
Walked back to the outpatients where the nurse came to my side.
"Where have you been?" she’s asking me, "The doc’s been calling you.
We thought you must have got impatient and decided to shoot through."
"Oh no" I said, "I’ve been yarning with an old bloke while I wait,
and I ate all his roasted almonds that he offered on a plate."
The nurse looked at me; her face went pale; like in a state of shock.
"You didn't eat them did you?" I said to her "Of course - why not?"
"His 'rellies' bring them weekly; they think he loves their little treat.
The chocolate ‘round them yes he does - those almonds he can't eat."
how I yearn for July
and that fat summer sun
the long sunny days
and the eves' sultry fun
but sweet April's weep
while it runs to the rills
is a soft song of spring-tide
as it splashes and spills ...
no, I can't rush dear April -
it's gone much too soon ...
how the gorged summer days
ever stretched in the past
rife with play and carefree
yes, I prayed they would last
but now each dawning day
finds a mockingbird's song
and I've waited that warbling
sweet psalm, far too long ...
no, I can't rush dear April -
it's gone much too fast ...
oh June swells with romance
- thrilled hopes 'midst July
mischief made in the dunes
with the moon winking, high
yet, now peepers' songs
ravage late-winter's gloom
and branches sway heavy
with buds bound to bloom
no, I can't rush dear April -
(tho' May's drawing nigh) ...
oh I love nothing more
than a summertime, fair
all the hazy and crazy
days - devil-may-care
but a crispy spring morning
while birds chant their love
is a rare blessing, born
from the heavens above
no, I can't rush dear April -
I'm too fond of that air ...
too brief are those days
and the joys I find there
how its breath lifts my spirit
and soft-tousles my hair
oh I'll never get bored
with dear April, quite rare ...
no, I'll NEVER be bored
with dear April ...
how I yearn for July
and that fat summer sun
the long sunny days
and the eves' sultry fun
but sweet April's weep
while it runs to the rills
is a soft song of spring-tide
as it splashes and spills ...
no, I can't rush dear April -
it's gone much too soon ...
oh the gorged summer days
ever stretched in the past
rife with play and carefree
yes, I prayed they would last
yet, now each dawning day
finds a mockingbird's song
and I've waited that warbling
sweet psalm, far too long ...
no, I can't rush dear April -
it's gone much too fast ...
how June swells with romance
- thrilling hopes for July
mischief made 'midst the dunes
with the moon winking, high
still, now peepers' songs
ravage late-winter's gloom
and branches sway, heavy
with buds bound to bloom
no, I can't rush dear April -
(though May's drawing nigh) ...
oh I love nothing more
than a summertime, fair
all the hazy and crazy
days - devil-may-care
but a crispy spring morning
while birds chant their love
is a rare blessing, born
from the heavens above
no, I can't rush dear April -
I'm too fond of that air ...
too brief are those days
and the joys I find there
its breath lifts my spirit
and soft-tousles my hair
oh I'll never get bored
with dear April, quite rare ...
no, I'll never be bored
with dear April ...
A hardened heart
closed the mind, so unkind
left the soul without empathy
struggling to understand
the joy in Christ's gift to man
Salvation of the soul
a reason to hope, to grow
in the light, the love, the wonder
of a grace that made life kinder
A hardened heart
broke through the dreams
coloring everything
in seas of blackest sorrow
left the thoughts filled with despair
carried the fear to the soul
where it kept joy from rising up
and leaving a promise of Him who knows
that faith can brighten the darkness
with sincerity and assurance
that joy comes to the One who listens
to the prayers of true repentance
A hardened heart
gorged by lies from the deceiver
Jesus adversary, the wicked one
who knows only to steal and destroy
love that flows into the light
from hearts who've learned to fight
the darkness, the hardness
with love that is gentle and kind
filled with faith that reminds
His light is inspired
His love is a burning fire
His grace is there for us
Salvation will always come
to those who pray from a heart
convicted by the Holy Spirit
who echoes His beauty in us!
Acts 3:19 - Repent ye therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord;
My first book... please leave me a review on Amazon if you read it and God bless all of you!
A Light in the Darkness
The lies connect us all.
We are entangled in their web:
Our bodies pierced,
Bleeding,
Dripping crimson over the strings
Which ensnare our neighbors.
We drink,
Thirsty,
But the blood cannot satiate us
For we are gorged on our own importance.
I wear a crown of thorns.
My forehead is pricked and bruised
And I speak with my black tongue,
Oozing fallacies into my gaping breast.
I grasp for the hearts you’ve sacrificed to me,
The lives you’ve gifted me,
The trust you placed in my hungry mouth
To feed my gluttony.
I am the sin
Your Father told you to purge.
I am a roiling serpent in a dress,
My lips the Tree of Knowledge.
Partake.
Let my lies penetrate you.
I am the serpent
And you are aching for a dangerous playmate.
Written: January 23, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Regina Mcintosh
"There are twilight times when only the moon will muse on my misery." By POET.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shadowy stillness does embrace
Showing the town such a showplace
People are fully dressed for sleep
Love aching is a wound so deep
The trees that line the waterway
In morning softness, gentle sway
She has no will but pain and weep
Love aching is a wound so deep
A painter shares his scene with care
Each moment bears a love affair
Regain some bliss others keep
Love aching is a wound so deep
The river's voice is full of pain
Gorged in tremulous skeins of rain
With love, its beauty holds a heap
As it flows onward to the sweep
Love casts a moon hush in the gloom
Seraph love time starts to assume
The moon shone down a hillock steep
Love aching is a wound so deep