Best Heard Poems
I've never heard the sound of snow
nor dawning's oboes crooning light,
yet witnessed angels' trumpets blow
and chimings of the flurries grow
as alabastrine wings take flight.
I've never heard the sound of snow
when cello strings caress the bow
of morning at its burnished height,
yet witnessed angels' trumpets blow
a salmon cirrus cameo,
diaphanous and opalite.
I've never heard the sound of snow,
piano in the afterglow
of sunshine's brittle fahrenheit,
yet witnessed angels' trumpets blow
ebullient through the chorals' flow
across the operatic white.
I've never heard the sound of snow,
yet witnessed angels' trumpets blow.
I Heard Mother
(to tune of "I Saw Mother Kissing Santa Clause")
I heard Mother scolding Santa's elf
As I prowled the house on Christmas Eve.
He'd hid in St. Nick's sleigh
And then sneaked out to play
After having waited for his boss to fly away.
Mother caught him gobbling all our snacks
After he tore open every gift.
Oh, when she glared down at his face,
He went scrambling from our place
Screaming, "Santa, stop the sleigh-
I need a lift!"
For Silent One's 'Your first poem on Poetry Soup' Poetry Contest
I believe it was Dec. 23 of 2009 right before Christmas!
Down where the lavender wisteria blooms.
For the first time this spring, and early in the morning
I heard the whip-poor-will sing its intriguing tune.
Later, when I looked out the kitchen window.
Birds of many species were swarming freshly filled birdfeeders.
House finches, red cardinals, and sparrows as well
Doves upon the ground nibbled and were well fed.
Birds' melodies mix with the sighing of the pines.
At the faint light of spring's dawn
How nature's symphony fills the morn's air
An awakening of all my senses,
Beauty exploding everywhere.
The Whip-poor-will's haunting call,
Echoes through the misty hollow
A song of deep mystery,
A melody touches my soul.
Wisteria petals dance with the gentle breeze,
Their fragrance intoxicating,
As the birds flit and flutter,
Feeding on the bounty
In this moment of quiet reverence,
I am reminded of the interconnectedness,
Of all living things in this world,
Bound by the threads of existence.
So I listen to the Whip-poor-will's song,
Though brief, letting it carry me away,
To a place of peace and harmony,
Where the wisteria blooms forevermore.
David, I just heard you'd started writing poetry,
so it made my day to get your rhyming note -
the first time in this school a note's been passed to me.
I always wished a boy like you would like me too.
You're smart and cute . I want for you to know
I've also had my blue-green eyes on you!
I like to dance. Do you? I think that we should meet.
I bet that a great dancer you would be,
and someone going far in life, for you're so sweet!
Written by Andrea Dietrich
for Michael Falotico's
"Passing a Love Note" Poetry Contest
(I imagine this scene when David was 13 and had
just started his interest in poetry,and as he wrote in
his bio, was also on his way to becoming a ballroom dancer!)
I was just sitting there writing when I saw her stroll in,
I wasn’t alone, all eyes followed those curves sashaying
as if she owned the place and maybe she did. . .
if a heart can skip a beat, mine did a somersault.
Obviously cut from a finer cloth
than these eight dollar trousers ever found in their pockets,
the fit much better too, a warm hug on a cold December day
lingering in the moment
She sat down at the crescent shaped bar,
ordered a martini, neat, pulled a crisp twenty from her clutch
and brushed a few stray brunette hairs from her face,
the mirror behind the bar happily reflecting her beauty
Raising the drink to her ruby red lips
I found myself wishing I were that glass,
smeared in her favorite shade, kissed by a sighing sip,
caressed by porcelain fingers wiping sweat from a glistening neck
A jewel in this dingy joint, shimmering in the dusty haze,
breathing some class into this oblong shadow
that had seen better days, but none like this, like her.
She was out of place like fine wine in a shot glass . . . but didn’t seem to care
She lifted a cigarette to her mouth, I was quick with a match,
watching as tobacco embers flared and smoke rose upward, swirling about freeform.
Putting her lips together she blew out the flame
with a whisper of breath that made me weak in the knees, “Thank you.”
I stared, forgetting the spent match I held between my fingers,
tongue tied or mesmerized, take your pick, both answers are correct.
“You’re welcome”, I stuttered like a school boy in braces, “new around here?”
“Kind of”, her voice as chiffon is soft, “I heard I might find a poet here . . . ”
To be continued . . .
Please check out parts 2 and 3 if you get a chance.
The whistles screamed that cold dark night
Winter, 1903
At least fourteen would perish
Way out on the prairie
The westbound Sunset Limited,
Eastbound Crescent City Express,
Met head on in a collision
Lives lost in great distress
Horror met the rescuers
Two twisted trains in flames
Of fourteen known to've perished
Of two, were not found names
A hundred plus years later,
On the date and pre-dawn hour
We'd come to the memorial plaque
With Teddy bears and flowers
Holding our thoughts in silence
We walked along the trail
Remembering the violence;
Their deaths upon that rail
Precisely 2:50 A.M
What was it? We don't know
But in our silent vigil
We heard a whistle blow
Sounding clear across the night
Once long, Three short, Last long
But there was nothing in our sight
Praying - we moved along
Our memorial under silver stars
For those perished on the track
Ended as we got in cars
With one last look-
a century back
We'll never solve the mystery
But do we need to know?
Commemorating history
We heard a whistle blow
Remember when that nudnik dropped a bucket of paint
on a canvas 'in the name of art,' but I said, "No, it ain't!"
Or the time that politician just cursed and cursed
and I told him he ought to try 'blank verse'
Or the day Yasir Arafat received the Nobel Peace Prize
and I stated, "A murderer was just honored for his lies"
But when I heard a medical doctor say, "Abortion is health care"
I dropped to my knees and started saying my prayers
Whispering to be heard My lips touching your ear in the darkness of the night Your head rests upon my shoulder And sex never enters into it I love you that much As a part of everything I am Waves of light run back and forth be tween us Still and quiet there is no need for words But I whisper I love you anyway And with your eyes closed you begin to smile If I were a cat I'd be purring now Contented with who I am And thrilled by every blessing that comes through you to me To make us who we are as one
I heard a bird singing
As I was on my way
It led direction for me
As it took my breath away
It warbled cheerfully,
From a tree above the snow
It spread its song gleefully,
What kind of bird, I wanted to know
I heard a bird singing
Its melody surrounded me
I turned in circles bringing,
Each note closer, to be free
It sounded like spring, in winter
A happy, fresh new start
Helping to release the splinter
And heal the pain within my heart
Heidi Sands
2/22/20
WHEN MY WORDS ARE MORE THAN HEARD
When my words act as proverbs
When my verbs are heard.
When the simple become wise
When my people listen to reason
And no longer follow folly.
When my adjectives invoke action,
Instead of reaction.
When young eyes are opened
To the riddles of the wise.
When a mother's words are adhered to.
When exhortations, means more than mere suggestions!
Recognizing it as a calling forth, a coming near.
Till' those who have ears will no longer hate knowledge;
But embrace my words as wise sons
And daughters. Children of my proverbs will
Use my words to form shields against the wicked-ones.
Ones who seek to destroy you.
So, gather together as sticks In a bundle.
Noticing what we have in common, as we
Are stronger as one.
When my words call you away from harm,
And you ignore my warnings.
There will be some who will take my words as trill...
And throw the solutions in the garbage, as wasted verbiage
My proverbs need now be heard and heeded.
Not wait until you realize they're needed.
Do not look for me in the midst of the storm...
For I and I shall be gone.! leaving the sirens on.
Hey guys you thought it was fun to joy ride
Steal a car and go wild
Racing through the streets
Faster and faster
You were heading for disaster
Your passenger can be heard shouting on his mobile to another friend
SLOW DOWN! SLOW DOWN!
But the driver laughs
The police are chasing
Blue lights flashing
He doesn’t want to get caught .... and end up in court
The speed increases
Ninety miles an hour
SLOW DOWN! SLOW DOWN!
You can hear the panic rising in his voice
But he’s strapped in the passenger seat
What started as fun is a living nightmare
Left turn, right turn
Weaving and dodging the cars on the street
Then they reach the point of no return
CRASHHHHHHHHHHHH
Sadly this is loosely based on an audio transcript from the video recorded on the passengers phone and was the last recording of their voices so I’ve written it as if it were a final phone call - the footage was released by the parents to act as a warning to other youngsters
Contest Last Call
Sponsor Casarah Nance
10~15~15
When words can't be seen and smiles aren't felt,
we fall onto paper and drip and melt...
We spread colors of blue and grey to highlight
an early morning sigh, and splash and orange tint
on a late afternoon high...
Late at night I will paint my sky a dark black, and
with just my fingertips sprinkle stars that stay intact...
When words finally return and a Poem is read, the background
is my painting of colors from a dreamer not dead....
I sat upon a fallen tree
In the forest deep,
As I sat there watching,
Autumn fell about my feet.
Sunlight pierced the canopy,
And danced among the trees.
Dappling all, it fell on boughs
And lit the falling leaves.
A staccato burst rent the air,
The woodpecker plied his trade.
Then from on high, startled crows
Began their own tirade.
Sitting there in silence,
I heard the forest speak.
Such enchantment did I find,
From my woodland seat.
The light was now fading,
But I was loathe to leave.
For I had found contentment,
My idyll, amongst the trees.
The Sea sighs under distant skies,
spinning stories of love and fear.
And as the wind whistles tall tales,
old seamen, cup their ears to hear.
Prospects of fabulous treasures,
gives imagination a stir.
And like a siren, the Sea calls
salty sailors to come to Her.
She sings along with humpback whales,
as they serenade Her with love.
And at night, She dances with light,
beamed from a glowing moon above.
Her cascading waves raise spirits,
only to watch them swiftly fall.
For She's drowned many a poor soul,
answering Her seductive call.
She connects Her heart to your heart,
through a language more felt than heard.
And yet, some say She speaks clearly;
without Her uttering a word.
The year is 2310
Humans still inhabit this earth
When they view all around them
It hardly seems worth
For their ancestors before them
Never heard what was said
If they continued to abuse her
In two hundred years she'll be dead
As they look out their windows
And view as they say
As they scroll through their histories
The world their ancestors knew in their day
They lived at the time
When their world was at lush
Where animals were still with them
Some demised to a hush
The Polar circles were threatened
By mans carbon emissions
They never heard what was said
About common sense missions
Their populations exploded
As they struggled to feed
Their richer got richer
Conglomerate greed
The life of their planet
Continually plundered and raped
Rain forests destroyed
Barren lands now drape
Conflicts were rife
Guerrilla warfare the norm
Pales into significance
From the 90's Desert Storm
As they look out their windows
And view as they say
As they scroll through their histories
The world their ancestors threw away
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-5.php