Best Gripped Poems
Be the star that brightens someone’s dark sky,
Be the light that illuminates a gloomy night,
Be the flame of compassion to life gone awry,
Even if you don’t think your candle is bright.
Despair not in a world gripped in jaws of woe
For beyond hills of grief dwells halo of hope,
Be the spring that rises through wintry throe,
Even when struggling in laments hard to cope.
Be the forest that grows through ashes of fire,
Be the dream that assuages angst of nightmare,
Be the angel of goodwill when times are dire,
Even when fate, callously, ignores your prayer.
Be not pain of misery, be not voice of dismay,
From goals of life revered, you must not stray,
Wish not for anyone, horizons shrouded gray,
Even while a storm drenches your sunny day.
A view of the ragged woodland from
The window:-
Slender branched trees that shed
From high above to low below;
The faint, mauven peaks
Smattered with barely visible
Scatterings of drifted snow;
Across the matted undergrowth
A bronzed carpet of copper coloured
Leaves
Whose rusting hue,
Momentarily ignited by stray
Sunbeams weakly smouldering,
Briefly refurbished -
Deceives with all the colours of a
Rainbow...
From vibrant red through to shy
Hints of indigo;
Those vague outlines indicating
Receding hills;
Here, arising, long ago, every waking
Dawning,
The creaking structures
Of groaning and imposing mills;
Soon a slow thawing that quickly
Spills
Into the trickling replenishments
Of many gushing and silvery little
Rills.
Enchantment gripped me!
And I found myself wistfully
Thinking...
Maybe, perhaps, maybe, somewhere,
Just behind where the great
Flattening Orb
Is now rapidly shrinking,
That I might, by perchance, find,
If I did so hope to bravely dare,
To happen upon a hidden and
Sedentary way of life up there?
That, forgotten, has turned its
Back on the social conflicts
Plagued by the curses of ingrained
Vice;
Encumbering a soul with its petty
Squabblings,
Imposing upon with demands and
Avarice...
When placing unnecessary burdens
On a honest bodies daily call
Of grinding toil and wearisome
Strife!
And still stood,
With hands outstretched upon the
Painted sill,
At the waist half-bent,
Now troubled by quiet mutterings
In an inexplicable sorts
Of self-imposed discontent,
My staid consciousness almost
Unawares,
As, momentarily distracted,
I hesitated, and, unseeing,
Inattentively stared...
Until...
A ragged chapter of cawing Daws,
Loudly jabbering overhead,
Suddenly wheeled -
And upwardly soared!
Whereupon, in murderous haste,
Awkwardly fled
When laboriously stealing away
Back inside the stubbled fields...
Thus causing me to slowly straighten;
Whilst, with a singular heartfelt pang,
Liken a moorland mist slowly rolling
Over
That indivisibly conceals...
Drew shut the sullen curtains, which,
Heavily embroidered with indeterminate
finality,
Dejectedly hang...
Each draped aside of the cold
Reveals.
I am a character
In search of my author
Walking great distances in a circle
Wishing for a plot
Wanting a destination
Perhaps a soliloquy
Please fill my lips with your words
If you wish I will play the fool
You be my King
I am yours to rule
For too long
I have been without a script
From a confused heart my thoughts have dripped
Within your story I wish to be gripped
The Author of me
From whom I have roamed
Through your scriptures I will comb
Till I learn the lines that lead me home
As I study please capture my mind
Till within my spirit we are intertwined
Light from light no longer blind
You are the beginning and completion of me
Apart from you I cease to be
Thankyou, Thankyou for helping me see
The part of Your story written for me
Beckoned by love, allured by memories,
Embracing missives of delightful dream
Engrossed in sphere of halo mesmerizing
Surrounding her aura in ornate gold ring,
She lifted-off gaily into ethereal, heavenly,
Way beyond reign of mortal melancholy
That gripped her soul in unbearable grief.
Enthralled she floated on feelings angelic
As she swirled, danced on magical wings,
Visiting lustrous nebulae hanging mirthfully
Amid magenta clouds’ resplendent motifs;
A kingdom of happiness, of eternal paradise,
An escape to wonderland fit for a child,
Just like her mother had once described
Where love always blossoms garden of joy.
Flexing exuberance, she queried the stars,
Until she came upon the brightest of all,
And recognized the most reassuring smile
Peering fondly into mother’s loving eyes
Nesting in her breasts, savoring her breath,
Longing every touch, reveling every pulse,
Blissful in endearment of realm sublime
Reconnecting enamored memories divine
Cradled in mother’s arms till end of time.
December 27, 2022
Poem of the day on December 28, 2022
Placed 5th: Beyond Reach Premium Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
While in the moonlit night he stood, his crew below asleep,
the captain gazed with knowing eyes upon the ocean deep.
A sinister tranquility was fleeing in the path
of moaning wind grown resolute in showing forth its wrath.
The moon, a pale pearl paradox, stared calmly down at him.
Then angry clouds obscured its face and everything was dim.
Behind the captain’s knowing eyes, his thoughts had grown astray.
They took him to another place where once he used to play.
He stood among the acres of unmoving solid ground,
where waves became tall stalks of grain the wind blew all around.
The first of many undulations crashed onto the ship.
He pictured rippling golden wheat and felt his vessel dip.
The men, awakened, clamored now. He prayed their deaths be swift
and gripped the wheel to navigate a ghastly forceful lift.
Imagining hot prairie sun, he viewed the huge cold swell
that came to bury them. . . and closed those eyes that knew too well.
Written years before it was posted here at Soup on 6/6/2010
Submitted 8/26/2022
for Mark Toney's 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 13 Poetry Contest
Haze up in the heavens encircles this orb.
Half-dark, half-light, shines from above.
Twinkles of light appear to absorb.
Fractions of darkness within lighted glove,
Speaking to lovers held in each other’s arms.
Answering questions of science to some,
Floating around spreading blessed charms,
Listening close at times, hearing a hum.
Lovers for centuries, graciously, captured by,
Sweet serenity and magical mystery,
Others entranced with secrets, which fly.
From words written and spoken in history.
Satellite, orb, lady, they are all the same.
Mythical goddesses, gripped in flame.
These tales have spread so many games.
This object seen most nights has no shame.
I bought a box of truth from a peddler down the street,
even though he told me its veracity might sting.
I handed him a stack of bills and asked for a receipt.
The box was wrapped in violet silk and tied with silver string.
I gripped the lid with shaking hands and paused with bated breath,
even though he told me its veracity might sting.
The truth inside the box was even uglier than death.
It slapped me with repugnance and assaulted with its stench.
I gripped the lid with shaking hands and paused with bated breath.
I closed the box in panicked shock and struggled not to blench.
Receipt in hand, I hurried to return the wretched truth.
It slapped me with repugnance and assaulted with its stench.
I found that lousy peddler selling boxes from his booth.
He studied me with sympathy and eyed my violet crate.
Receipt in hand, I hurried to return the wretched truth.
With fingers clenched in fury and a heart awash with hate,
I bought a box of lies from that peddler down the street.
He studied me with sympathy and eyed my yellow crate.
I handed him a stack of bills and asked for no receipt.
On this October's mild stirrings
I watched ached nights flicker, to glow
Around his hair like angel wings
Recalling joyrides... so mellow.
That in hushed tones,I called Gramps' name
Enshrined within my youth's warm space...
My hands folded with love aflame,
While prayers spilled through chill's embrace.
Though failing heart quivered in ticks,
Faith...way back then when I was ten
Gripped, he was nearing sixty six
As prayers trailed,wafting amen.
Until spring came, Gramps' flare restored
With new life blessed from harbor's ward.
..........
Way Back Then When I Was Ten
Kelly Deschler's Contest
1/30/2016
----------------------
Accosted many years ago
By the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe
I'm now obliged to come forthright
About that dark eye-opening night.
It's only fair to let you know
I've held a torch for Mr. Poe
It's all because of the ink of his pen
That my love for poetry did begin.
(His sad, sad tale arrested me;
the saddest tale I've ever known.
Small wonder then when he chose me,
an easy prey, home all alone)
Toiling to write like him for years
Happy was I when his ghost appeared.
A tragic figure past, present and now
He entered my room with a humble bow.
And fixed me with a haunting stare
And whispered softly 'life's not fair.'
I nodded my head just to agree
When a strange sensation took hold of me.
Possession felt more than 9/10's of the law
I felt frozen and badly in need of a thaw.
My body, not mine now was his to command;
Just a shell, a mere puppet, at the will of this man.
His voice so melodic, belied malice or vice.
He drew near to the fireplace, the warm hearth felt nice.
There was music, a waltz, seemed familiar {mere chance?)
Embracing the moment we started to dance.
His thoughts were with mine now
And mine were with his
And I swear by my bank book
As long as I live
The unbearable pain of his loss gripped my heart
And the moment I fainted we were ripped apart.
He was anguished at how he had handled his grief,
How his life was cut short by his own inner thief.
He'd wanted to write more
His mind was an ark
Just those few moments with him
Woke the poet in my heart.
And so it happened in just one night
He taught me verse; he taught me rhyme
And stretched my mind to higher heights
That's quite developed over time.
He's never visited my bedroom since
Or with my body had his way.
He left me with this gift or sixth sense
Of a fire for poetry that burns in my veins.
Unfinished business is quite finished now.
Passing on I imparted to him 'quid pro quo.'
'Rest in peace, the whole world
Knows your name Mr. Poe.'
-Reta Pruitt
July 22.2018
She sneaked into the pantry, tender steps came from behind
His charismatic twinkle took her heart completely by surprise
And in a speck of time, a secret kiss to follow
As fate joined them together, forever in tomorrow
Through the years she won't forget the day he called her near
To tell her that he'd written a song that only she would hear
Timeless is the butterfly-and goes where we know not-
As fleeting chance encounters create a solid bond
His timely passing left her hollow
Now gripped with grief she struggles to swallow
And always returns to haunt her again
To go on alone, her free will had chosen
Now and then she whispers, but only to herself
That somewhere in another time
He'll complete the songs he left behind
On the pantry shelf
Written by Karen Anglesey
Published in Theatre of the Mind
Noble House Publishers/Individual Copyright holders/2003
My first crush seemed like a box of Crayons
Hot Magenta was tugging on her nylons
She dyed her hair like the Florida Sunrise
Her Cool And Crazy words just mesmerize
Cotton Candy eye shadow with every blink
She kissed Wild Strawberry that tattooed my cheek
Her Midnight Blue eyes, that just sparkled within
That Glossy Grape dress, gripped her like sharkskin
We shared a drink, it was called Lemon Lime Zing
This long story short, Atomic Tangerine
On a path laid as a snake,
Trodden down a winding wake,
Curls and slithers into night,
To thrones of ever-dimming light;
I hold still and gripped with feeling
In a mist that wraps concealing,
And I glimpse her flicker by
From the corner of my eye.
Heartless granite fissures break
At prayers to God of souls to take,
In their vessels bled to white,
Shells of failure and of blight;
It snares and snags as ivy veins,
Upon the brickwork, grasps and strains,
And I catch her ribbons fly
From the corner of my eye.
Set adrift in this domain,
The dead volcanoes that refrain,
Never smoking nor erupt
For the end was sharp, abrupt;
I feel the ether of despair
Envelope skin with frosted air,
I spot the crystals melt and die
From the corner of my eye.
No space for sorrow to explain,
To tell how love was savaged, slain,
The stir of breath can bare disrupt
Or wall of silence interrupt;
A fear of days, in truth, compare
With nights that always hunger there,
Unguarded moments, her I spy
From the corner of my eye.
Mary spent her final days
Inside a nursing home
Tended to by well trained staff
But still so all alone
They gave her everything of need
Bathed and fed and groomed
Exercise and social time
A clean and friendly room
But everybody knew that she
Was lacking something more
A special friend or family face
To show up at the door
Mary never cried a tear
A smile graced her face
Those that worked around her knew
This shouldn't be her place
She should have someone at home
To give that special care
To hold her when the pain of age
Became too much to bear
They loved her and they cared for her
As much as strangers can
Doing everything they could
To lend a helping hand
But Mary soon began to fall
Her life was in decline
Her smile slowly faded
And her eyes refused to shine
She passed away one evening
In the comfort of her bed
As nurses stood around her
And they stroked her silver head
They went to call the family
But no number could they find
No-one there to take the call
For someone left behind
Sadness fell about the place
A CNA was called
To go in and remove the things
Around her bed and walls
But there was nothing there to find
Among her issued things
Just two little boxes
Tied with ribbons and some strings
She brought them out and set them down
And all had gathered round
Should they look inside to see
What memories would be found
The charge nurse said, "There's no response
To any call we've made.
No-one cares if she is gone
Or where her body's laid."
Silence gripped the staff on hand
They tried to hide their tears
They looked upon her sum of life
Two tiny boxes here
Someone said, "Let's look inside
To see what she's amassed
We should know what she has had
If anybody asks."
They looked around in silent nod
Agreement had been made
They chose the smallest of the two
And contents were displayed
continued ( Sorry. Not enough characters to finish )
Unrequited
The things i think about,
never settle below
they float instead
and fester inside
as I pluck your name in the air
a sacred memory folds over
foaming layers, floating vapors
Creating a chill and then a stupor
the last draw of my breath
I slipped again, I stripped
you tripped in the end
Even if you stay in your lane
But you’re driving insane
so much distance between two cars
its impossible to hear
Muffled by the wind, carried away the fear
I tried to speak, but the sound
Never carried over
It rises an ache in my throat
nerves are calmed, noise is stifled
legs are stiffened, feet planted
hands firmly gripped
elbows abutted
in a world prone to forget
my memory stays etched
in your fractured mind
my taste stayed on the lips
of the one I've left behind
a fleeting moment
Betrayed by lust unveiled the trust
between the blinks of my eye
You remain a distant memory
The pain has abated
the speed is indeed fleeting
Forgotten with the past
in the throes between two fires
the faded lines, the dying embers
Looms over like the sun
So I say, you cannot stay
Isn’t that off-putting?
A broken soul
With a spirit so agile
My body so fragile,
with just one touch,
you peel my layers
like the sprouting weeds
between the pavement
the truth wants to be known
My touch so brief,
and yet it lingered
Overstayed its welcome
And in the horizon
It stretched, it lagged on
And with your imagination
My skin rubbed raw,
My voice cracked, I cringed
I become unhinged
My heart will always be disquieted
Your love forever unrequited
Thank God I have a Brother!
He fixes up the truck,
I sometimes give him money,
Whenever he gets stuck.
(Not just for up and fixin’
The truck – not what I mean
‘f I tried, he wouldn’t take it)
It’s just that times ‘re lean.
His poor bald head works harder,
Than any I have known!
For he rides an old lawnmower,
And not a horse or throne!
He goes and helps the neighbors,
He will not take a cent,
(‘Course, he could make a killing,
That’s just not how he’s bent!)
Thank God I have a Brother,
Whose Kindness lifted me,
When I was drenched in sorrow,
And couldn’t hardly see.
He gripped me through the funeral,
Around the shoulders, hard,
And now, he’s lost his stepdad,
Who helped him in the yard,
Who told him ‘Mighty Fine’, and
Who loved, and sat a spell,
And stayed in the garage shop,
And cared that he was well.
So, now, he has a Brother,
Who’ll stand up, when he’s stuck,
And hold him by the shoulder,
And help him fix the truck.