Best Harkening Poems
While gelid breezes of winter, quiver emotions of decaying rays,
And arc of horizon cedes to dusk, evoking grimace of malaise,
Casting shadows tenebrous, shrouding glimmer of a slowing day,
Desperate hope lingers still, in resplendence of autumn’s decay;
Gawking in yonder, where gamboge-orange woodlands fade,
Reminiscing in seasons harkening, realms of love now evade,
Mindful of the broken vows, when grievous calls destiny made,
When forever promises receded, and pledges eternal strayed.
Love now mulls~ if kiss of passion was a subtext of final goodbye?
Was it the last tear of hapless eyes; a bawl of love gone awry?
A silent protest, concealing mindfully, anguish of a forlorn sigh?
Was it the clamor of jilted desires, love enamored chose to decry?
Springs of past summon hope, having risen from wintry throe,
Nights of nightmare cede to dreams in halo of daybreaks aglow,
As candle of love revives hearts, fueled by inspirations of soul,
When whispers of sensuous hints, aspirations of romance cajole.
Desperate hope expounds repentance, vying healing through time,
Unsure if, pleadings in atonement, will redeem future sublime;
Whether love saplings will ever sprout, from ashes of passions bygone,
If dreams forsaken will blossom, in womb of tomorrow’s dawn.
Categories:
harkening, hope, inspiration, love,
Form:
Rhyme
“Your skin like dawn
Mine like musk
One paints the beginning
of a certain end.
The other, the end of a
sure beginning.”
Passing Time: Poem by Maya Angelou
Harkening all the way back to the origin of time
I ponder conjectures about the theory of Big Bang--
A moment that exploded into infinite expanse,
And I wonder if this ticking clock will ever stop
Collapsing on self into ashes of nothingness
Or will it keep stretching space on eternal path;
Its existence, compared to mine, incredibly vast--
I am just a speck of dust in its cosmic compass--
A spot on its continuum, born in recent past.
Living in my present I can easily retrace steps,
No theories are needed to ascertain my start;
And unlike this universe that goes on and on,
My end is as assured, as beginning of end was.
July 5, 2020
Time – 8 Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsor: A Dear Heart
Categories:
harkening, time, universe,
Form:
Free verse
The ground rumbles, ominously, I'm on the steep side of a Mississippi River Bluff, mid-August, gathering bursting crimson red trophies of Staghorn Sumac for my favorite sumac-ade, a spright, invigorating tonic I enjoy this time of year. The smell in the air, forest-sage beginning to dry and ripen, the bitter tang of scattered paper-birch bark chimneys...must keep alert for the origins of the earthly rumble.
The unsettled earth, sweet and bitter smells...mix with my age and I sit down as if in a trance and drift asleep...harkening back to my training as a young man in a Manhattan Bagel Deli, assembling prep-stations for the customer onslaught about to descend. Proofed bagel dough, seeded and rotating in the elevator slate-shelved oven after a frothy malt-bath in the bubbling giant kettle, delectable aromas of fairly vibrating paper-sliced spiced meats and piquant aged cheeses, briny sheets of smoked lox, pots of sweetly acidic capers and luminous heirloom tomatoes...
But I'm much older now, my mind remembers, but my body can't function like it once did, I can't perform the once-easy configurations effortlessly like before.
The rumbling, just my imagination...
I awaken, gather my bunch of fluorescent sumac, which I am still able to concoct, mindful of God's Grace in my spiritual and physical evolution...He
Has Blessed me with.
8-13-20
6:03 am
Categories:
harkening, age,
Form:
Narrative
where are your eyes in the 11th hour?
do they roam to and fro, roaring
with insipid power, baiting the hook,
fishing for retractable men?
where is your nose in the 11th hour?
is it sniffing out a cesspool of plots,
hanging with odious men by the fire,
drawing in men with deceptive smoke signals?
where is your mouth in the 11th hour?
are you rambling out rhetoric, grandiloquent smut,
smirking, curling your lip, your serpentine tongue
slithering and snapping up every adamic crumb?
where are your ears in the 11th hour?
are they trembling with vibrations of horror,
jingling change from restless legs, harkening to
every pandering pain - every wicked wile?
where is your touch in the 11th hour?
are you reddening faces, tenderizing
every black and blue artery and vein,
darkening the skin of Eve like a cancerous cloud?
~ ~ ~
in the 11th hour, her kind eyes shower,
with rainbow tears, leaping upwards,
bowed in reverent fear, insightful and wise,
vigilant and circumspect.
in the 11th hour, her nose drawn to scents,
yes of honeysuckle and baby powder
but also the downpour of the poor and sick,
attentive to the stench.
in the 11th hour, her mouth soothes
with compassion, just and good,
sensitive to worn out souls, smiling
tenderly, speaking at chosen times.
in the 11th hour, her ears ever alert,
pierced by the outcry of Eve’s children,
drawn to lilting laughs, lullabies and psalms,
anywhere a helping plea sounds.
in the 11th hour, her touch gentle and soft,
changing diapers, dusting off tears, foraging food
for her family and the lonely, handing out hugs,
midnight feet tucking in the sheets.
~ ~ ~
Indeed, the 11th hour is here,
a time where good is called bad
and bad pronounced good.
In the overcast skies,
the spread of candlelight
like stars, so mercifully bright.
As midnight strikes,
each star is gathered like wheat,
the sun and the moon fall asleep.
4/2/2019
Categories:
harkening, christian,
Form:
Free verse
When social upheaval brews chaos of nihilism,
Forfeiting moral values, embracing skepticism;
Instability ensues, clamoring in emptiness,
Believing world is futile, life is meaningless,
As broken norms shout, voicing nothingness
From souls alienated by misplaced intellect,
Mislaid by thoughts, vacuous and mindless.
Barren is the landscape of infertile minds
Dislocated in grip of meltdown and melancholy,
Preferring to host anarchy, disharmony,
Abandoning the virtues of reason, and logic,
Rejecting bliss and benevolence of empathy,
As gloomy clouds of disengagements form
Roiling hearts in intense emotional storms.
When disorder harbors indignity, incivility,
Misery and despair lead to destructive society,
As lost, worn-out souls wander unfulfilled,
Rudderless, in angst of hollowness within,
Aching for love-lost in fractured relationships
Navigating purposeless-digressions adrift,
Going nowhere, hovering over pit of abyss;
Until from consciousness cogent voice speaks,
Enlightened by guidance of wisdom satori,
Harkening back to yore, of inspiring dawns,
Blossoming-seasons of resplendent bygones,
Reminding~ back then, how tranquil life was;
Empowering now to banish reign of anomie,
Exiting tenebrous clouds, shrouding sanity,
Traversing back to abode of grace and unity,
With compass-benevolent of love, and divinity.
Categories:
harkening, community, perspective,
Form:
Free verse
Like a painting.
Almost the same thing,
Except not so flat.
And more than that-
Blooming effortlessly.
As if by destiny.
But its true fate,
Is for its beauty to abate.
That is what happens to an eclipse.
After a moment, time will elapse.
Colors that move on.
Feels like waking up at dawn.
This afternoon,
Is not full of doom.
Just a moment of shade.
Harkening a halo of jade.
Thank you sun, thank you moon.
We hope to see another show soon!
Categories:
harkening, sun,
Form:
Rhyme
Hmm...What Discursive Poetic Theme Shall I Write About...
Today (a rather brisk, chilly,
and otherwise sat
tiss factory twirly delightful
December 18th, 2018) matte
her of fact quite
refreshing noontime, while this fat
tend plot of Earthen surveyed terrain
situated over scat
herd modest suburban tract,
(actually yours truly some watt
urbanely sprawled out) at
Latitude: 40.2538 Longitude: 75.4590,
where I sit pat
and think to write
about some reading material flat
touring my "FAKE" status
as king of agitprop for chat
hurrying class gussied up with
artistically crafted rat
tilly done up snazzy razz mutt tazz
(approved by Willard), this expat
lapsed Peterson harried tailored script,
asper previous peculiar
swiftly styled idée fixe
literary unnecessary, rat
tickly tawdry superfluity)
interspersed with dollops of splat
hard logophile, nonetheless gentle
on the eyes, yet feeling totally flat
and devoid of meaning, and quite
convincingly desperate idea this pratt
tilling far amore in the dell doth
expatiate, expound expressively, gnat
cheerily witty, (i.e. hint- please
pretend these humph fat
tickle lee meandering, rambling,
and warbling words) taxing
on mental faculty as bat
tan gruelling death march
physically, when circa
April 1942 Japanese forced
76,000 captured Filipinos,
and Americans Allied
soldiers to march about 80 miles across
Bataan Peninsula (province
in Philippines), where they died
enroute to...during World War II
on island of Luzon, espied
as a spiritual sanctuary hosted
by a knowledgeable tour guide
named Matthew Scott hood dons
genuine (musty smelling)
Tory wig to hide
as an alien alias (from the outer limits
of the twilight zone) incognito
even to himself, and especially the bride
of Frankenstein, who evinces a strong crush
toward said nondescript gentrified
vested gentry groundless thinker with pride
though, dirt poor (at least on the surface),
but deep down rich with
Schwenksville well watered
history harkening back to 1684,
when hoodwinked, jilted and lied
Lenni-Lenape Indians got fleeced
then taken for a ride
this land ceded to (stolen from) William Penn
nestled along the Perkiomen Creek.
Categories:
harkening, abuse, allusion, america, analogy,
Form:
Bio
"Beyond lychgate lies future death" she says,
cucumbered eyes slid back under cauliflower sky,
brimming smithereens of harkening demons.
Been in saddle some time since torchlight began,
a child's silent castle ago. Chaos-times cut alleyways
through rose-lettered circles, reads trashy maid.
The journey fell sword north along shield path.
Peninsula late to temple-crawling fiend
and settle princess patter dust. Like trick glass
the moon palace emanates, a chain works
its crystal door. A shore of bane swims world-sick
with fire-wing ticks abreast, dragon-headed air:
happens to be, as the world burns...
Spring chickens looked at first
grasshopper leaves, blossoms.
Empty saddles of burnt Autumns
sit with moccasin thirst.
One ruby night ago, vampire night,
made movie set by tail light.
Wrench of fog came loose and fell.
Eye of moon too close, well...
Winged skeletal open sheet,
sanguine collar of his neat.
Began by serving up the meat.
Legs he tossed, and arms and feet.
A rise and shine ago, luster of sight,
out of scene the farmer goes.
Steel machine cranks horizon bright.
Scroll up the title i suppose.
Barn stall features dingy leather
where lasting gleam slips by candle.
Recall adventure, mural by weather.
Motion eye attached to handle.
Scoot across encrusted bucket,
folded over the eating depth.
Put filthy Kraken atop it,
swished around the damn mess.
Brave journal follows company
down the water-taped steps
to where there isn't any.
Sealed flame lights diver's quest.
A cave away, keys of hassle,
swim to shore with hopes unravel.
Brute force thunders far within.
Exact the sword to have them send.
Enter bar stool and order takeout.
Hostess charm enhanced the make out.
Her fuel adds flames to very fabric.
Her fists were fiery, action: magic.
Out of dust broom closet knelt good
ole nuke we ended up sneaking places:
peaceful village of the caring hood,
small reaches, to parking spaces.
Twisted hair in castle braids,
scoundrel bristles painting raids.
Countdown pistol official use,
punching bag for ogre face.
Categories:
harkening, adventure, fantasy, fate, hero,
Form:
Lyric
Along a shady mangrove through glens of green,
I romp around, the air teasing my curly hair;
And in a dash , a tiny fowl softly rattles life’s movements:
Harkening, harkening as its emerald crown bops
Much like the wave of rippled ponds… and I
gaze at this divinity of nature, her own secrecy.
Lush emerald wings flutter beside me
As if to trade stories of the life we own,
That my feet prance about beneath an olive sky
Gently weaving upon jade grasses on a mound…
This kingfisher warbles along tunes of joy and angst
Until the olive- varnished trees bow to us.
I somehow curtsy wondering how a birdsong’s trill
Can hush the mangrove, the entire glen;
All harkening in noble silence, undefined by night’s pose
While agate eyes of a kingfisher mirrors my own dreams,
A lady with cilantro feathers tinged with angst and joy
Drooling a canticle of solace…
as the bird roams far off into the late, late duskfall.
United Colors: Green, Contest for Silent One
3/ 03/ 2016
Categories:
harkening, bird, green, mystery,
Form:
Free verse
the choking beat of conformity
coagulates internment in the minds
of fascist marches measuring time
shoving tubes filled with dictates
down the gullet of my spirit
wishing to be at least severed
from the instance of alignment
inherent in the laughing dream
which destroys ambitions of rain
-bows arching toward constellations
(a distorted and twisted version of the uni
-verse is still wavering alternative…
…dimensions into the crevice of an animal
eyeing and praying for nothing save rain
and prey to be plentiful despite their screams…)
must keeps the string extending
into nuclear holocaustic burns freezing
specters of old films dissolving
bubbles of arteries swelling grand
-father gasping at the why dangling
in the sky…stratospheric metaphors
…and off-key colors spill like incense
into the flame of creation harkening
dances of concubines combining
their hair like an enigma
lost in the tip of a hum
life splits the secret of the tongue
a hue reflecting djinns of you
releases peace in a white explosion
swimming a thousand curses in sand
blinding in the storm of suffering
until the palliating confusion tears
and the witnesses remain in the caesarian
-section of divided moons of elliptical doubt
orbiting the cloud of world-leaders
scratching the chin of sin smirking…
Categories:
harkening, corruption, dark, deep, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
TAHITI
If you leave, the island
Rests a sad face on its paws
And longs for your return,
Harkening for the oar-splash
Of your approaching boat.
If you never return,
It remembers your face
All life long.
...........................
Historical Note
Mutineers on the BOUNTY had to leave the island and never return, but it stayed in their consciousness forever.
Categories:
harkening, metaphor,
Form:
Personification
Fiery Flames of mornings early light,
A lonesome bird caws, then soars in flight
An illuminated sky, streaked in strains of grey,
Harkening the advent of another day
Phantom clouds pause, slowly passing by;
Wistful trees, shedding their seasonal display,
Winter, is not far away
Categories:
harkening, imagery, morning, nature, seasons,
Form:
Rhyme
Avast emotional gulf manifested; courtesy
series of unfortunate events; sundered
biologically accorded, cherished, enshrined
paternal bond; resultant dereliction defies,
justifies, ratifies...dissonance; unbearable
hindsight excoriates impropriety reviewing
dirty deeds done dirt cheap; impossible mission
to excise indelibly etched psychological
impacted repercussions upon mine fountainhead;
weighing excruciating deserved self loathing;
permanently deplorable depravity yoked;
unyielding choke hold, no longer asking
forgiveness, but airing errant culpability;
dada's guilt indefensible impropriety; begetting
permanent fallout; exacting just desserts; bitter
regret beast of burden (oxe see moron) housed
within self made villain; unjust to impinge your
providential opportunities, whose blessed smarts
plus unfettered, unencumbered, undaunted...
daring do promise productive existence par
excellence, versus anxiety riddled torturous
legacy writ large across countenance this papa;
analogously das scribe bing mortal epitaph, while
dark shadows haunt this edgy rusty knight, who
once pawn time shrugged off mischievous
lascivious actions as payback; recognizably erred;
misperceptions (mine); deduced ex post facto,
when the missus doled out unpleasantries;
exploding anger; vented regarding significant
roiling perturbations harkening to her own
unrepentant poisonous stinging toxicity;
delivered courtesy birth parents; hands lack
king awareness to rock cradle with tender
loving care, hence burdened with childhood
tsoris prior to accepting yours truly as life
contra dance partner these preceding xxii+
years avoiding unseemly behavior; aware
that the mother of our two darling daughters
doth love and forgive me, though recouping
similar results with first offspring may remain
tense, and many years past not a happy camper.
Categories:
harkening, 12th grade, dad, daughter,
Form:
Free verse
A rhetorical question finds me asking
(to no one in particular) why I recall
the names of grade school teachers
approximately fifty years ago (whose
names listed below), when the need
to retrieve necessary information due
ring examinations (less time ago)
often found me seized with sudden
inability to remember any vital ants
sirs (even including my name), thus
grudgingly handing over blank test paper
analogously surrendering a vital
document gracing terms of defeat
into the scaly claws (zen nay), sans
first to sixth grade Precambrian relic
(Missus Batson, Missus Rittenhouse,
Missus Wells, Mister Stout,
Missus Shaner, or Miss Rinderle).
Invariably majority of first thru
sixth grade accorded accredited
ancient authenticated creatures.
They freely exercised diabolical
churlish beastial animalistic zeal
us yakking, wickedly unprintable
upon (unprincipled urchin) at
receiving end of fiendishly grue
some hellish instructions. Assign
ments buttressed with ultimatums
harkening back to Jurassic period
earlier in dawning primate con
sciousness. Lesson material kindled
with justifiable license in league
with garnered insignia. Heft
to bring pupils to heal predicated
via warp and weft woven wonder
fully. Wrought writs welcomed
whips with warranty whenever
recalcitrant ruffian refused
respecting reptilian rubric repre
sentative rattling (The Idler Wheel
Is Wiser Than the Driver of
the Screw and Whipping Cords
Will Serve You More Than Ropes
Will Ever Do), which loosely
rendered regularly warbled
wishy washy verse curmudgeons
freedom granted to interpret
as one decrepit, hawkish insignia
certified one beaming Eve and/
or stud deed brute soffit. Education
often relied on the weekly reader,
and letters to and/or from Aunt
Emma. Nefarious mean linkedin
kickstarter jawboning torturous
treatment tolerated, asper imps
of the pervert, mutant Ninja
Turtles duty bound antsy
youthful yokel yodelers
weathering ululating sing-song
and quintessential precepts.
Categories:
harkening, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Prose Poetry
There it glows illuminating night,
Harkening to frightening sounds,
Enlightening her crevices,
Molding images of real fright;
Yakking all witches delight...
Suspending bats from trees,
Topping their heads with fleas:
Ironic play to increase their pranks!
Contained the mystical moon waits,
Arming herself with blinding gleams,
Launching them to break up their feats
Louder than the wolves wild groans!
Above winds anticipate a storm,
No star likes rainy clouds over them;
Enamored are the soft eyes of dreamers...
Totally lured by those celestial tones!
Categories:
harkening, evil, fear, moon, night,
Form:
Acrostic