Best Hem In Poems


Premium Member The Power of One

The Power of One

Slowly shadows devour the day’s light,
The silhouette of fear draws breath 
From the soul left gasping,
A firestorm of fury gathering,
Like mists of plagues escaping
From an ancient land of sand and tombs
With locusts warning of hope’s starvation
To escort the darkness rising 
Turning pleas into ashes – weeping into stone -
Pounding on the mountainsides where sweetest spice 
Withers beneath lullabies 
Robbed of serenity’s grace -
Flowing furious on fevered winds
Pushing reveries and faith out on a ledge -
Not knowing right from left
Or up from down -
No words of clarity in 
In the whirlwind’s barren chrysalis,
To hem in - to constrain -
With invisible shrilling waves of crisis
Whipped up by anguish
That binds the wildly beating, frantic heart,
Like a captured sparrow;
To scoff, to jeer, to overlook,
The single bloom standing up,
Trembling like new leaves on thinnest branches,
Scanning galaxies of prophetic possibility, 
Then lean on visionary stars
That shatter with the speed of light
The hovering shadow of inertia’s darkest enchantment,
Sending out the solitary song of meadowlarks,
Still caroling through deafness, not silenced,
Not bending to the ill winds moaning
And the chaos screaming,
To scatter seeds of spring not born
Like unseen winged flyers;
To see beyond and past descending doom,
Into that far and sheltered arbor
With dreams of wisdom and young visions -
Outside the grasp of calamity,
Beyond the dark horizon -
Enticing with an alluring fragrance gather back
Into the benediction of the ever circling eternal seasons
Promising….

Split Second Glance

I smile at you when you aren’t looking.

The set of your mouth, as it furrows irresistibly

Commandeering your face into the desired degree

Of aloof concentration. Chin in hands, you rove about

A world I catch only in glimpses,

As it scintillates through the reflection in your incessant clarity. 



I can see the glaze slipping as you fight your way

Through the glossy clouds that feather in overlapping layers

On your perception –I can see the radiance begin to focus

From the lucid orbs that center your face -unclenching as it emerges

Reluctantly from where it had seeped its inspiration –penetrated 

To the profundity of your being.



I strain to catch that first flicker of warmth –the spellbound rebirth

Of the halcyon element I scorch myself with

Beyond the beyond the beyond –

But never scar.



It’s rending the fetters that closed behind it,

I can feel the crisp distance congeal

As it prepares to receive a dawn –

My face blazes with a sudden knowledge:

For one frozen moment, sluggish rays already frothing

Just beneath the surface, my breath petrifies as I 

Inhale a fear that I will desecrate this magic –

That your perfection –exquisite to the point of pain –

Will dissipate –marred by an irreverent worth.



An emblem of stillness, I rasp over edges of milliseconds

-the tingling plunge that precedes all fall or flight-

Your eyelids lift, echoes of recognition bouncing

As I leadenly raise answering gaze to hem in selfish supplication.

Locked, your icy awe exults without breaking –

You answer my smile, as I gasp through gritted teeth.

We laugh about anything and nothing, I catch hold of my shreds again.



-inconsequential  exhilaration-

The Lost

Billowing taupe clouds, hunker down and hem in the Peninsula,
The morning rips open
A glimpse of sun shone; a lemon curd slivers between slits of of silver illumination
The first hint of light glances up frothing crests of salted foam,
Waves slap mineralized milky encrusted piers,
A place she never goes,

The boats, the ropes, salted misty chalky vapors 
All a mockery of thematic proportions,

Unduly deliver a set, a scene,
In which a broken-hearted woman creaks about over well trodden planks
With a mystery in her eyes,

A coat two-sizes too big
And a hint of faded spicy cologne
Envelopes her unconscious, the odor she is unaware of

She perceives a mounted flaking, patinated iron harpoon mere décor 
A prop on the set of this distant sea,
An artifact for ancient ways of hunting, the heart of the whale she knew was the size of twenty men.

Old men begin to mill about from the shore they amble toward the beauty and the death of the sea,

The lulling sea
A salve for old men, a balm to quell the roaring mind,

Clapboard sided sea worn boats rise and fall not of their own accord,
But as slaves to the the great sea, slaves to the sea

They carry metal traps, hemp ropes
And the unforgiving memories of the land,

“Landlubbers” she muses. A momentary countenance of mirth gleams in her eye.
Such a funny word.  An erstwhile chuckle engages her lips as she knows now the seriousness of life, whereby in bygone times mother warned: “Love will make a mockery of us all”
© Toni Orban  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member New Friends

New friends, although they shine like stars,
Are sometimes blocked from view.
Our own milky way hides whole galaxies even
That dance beyond its swirling arms
Thousands of potential earths,
Homes we will never visit, even see.
Daughters of older friends,
Ex-wives even, populate the depths of sky,
Sisters of best buds, that once were children
Escape our notice on shadow paths
Though they often try perhaps
To touch our hem in passing,
Hoping for a miracle of their own,
A spark of recognition
In the white noise of a summer’s night.

I wonder how in heaven’s gates
New friendships are pursued,
Or if, equally blessed by the love of God
Unique friendships disappear
As souls no longer flawed in God’s presence
Loose their human qualities,
As diamonds without inclusions
Become diamonds that are perfect?
How will God distinguish you and I?
Certainly our souls will surely always house
The experience which makes me me, you you,
Memories perhaps that color us with promise
As rain was once blessed by God
Our presence now reflecting
With rainbow like dispersion,
The infinite character of the God head
With a distinct Brian flavor
That gives others, even angels, new insight
Into just how big infinity really is.


Brian Johnston
February 11, 2016

Bruises I Hem

These shaded scars may alarm,
Yet in my eyes, they are surely painted.
Scorned love that which won’t harm
In my sigh of relief I cry to this, tainted.

Fire lustfully denies the everso carnaging fate.
Torn apart by the advantage of its flaws,
I am morley sewed up in these lion claws.
I am surely bowed up in famen i did cause.

Take my flower
And take my name.
Don’t leave a crumb.
Don’t leave me numb.

Apologies won’t phase
In this love-land daze.

Bruises I Hem, in which shade,
Paint over the pale flesh I jade.

Flying in a strong state of contentment,
I turn back to find my eyes are closed.
I am nothing but a seeping resentment
In a life of dreary follies, now disposed.

Premium Member Come Shop With Me

Come shop with me 
  up and down the aisles
Buying whatever we please

Scurry around slowpokes
  crash into displays
Swerve to avoid kids in the way  

No matter the season
  don't need a reason
'May-hem' in April
  a Chinese fire drill

Arrive at the register
  Butt into line ~
Cos' you just broke water
  at 'a most inconvenient time'

So come shop with me
  for moments to treasure
Enjoy one of life's 'guiltiest pleasures'


Premium Member May the forest be with you

May you remember the sail ship
white wake behind, seabirds about
When the bedrock begins to slip
When life's purpose is in doubt

May you remember every friend
When enemies surround
When only on few can you depend
And harshness is the only sound.

**(Chorus)**
May the mountains come in waves
That lift you up from under.
like desert rain that saves.
Like a cavalry's thunder. 

When there's no arrow in your quiver
And when they say you did betray
Think of rafting that foaming river
To wash the bitterness away.

When they hem in your universe
Hold fast to what is true
When life goes from bad to worse
May the forest be with you.

A Lovely Face

A sunny morning is seated pretty 

Luscious mangoes are taking shape there
On the leafy branches birds are tweeting 
Velvety leaves cast shadows over them
Euphoria runs deep in the roots of the trees
Lilacs looking up from beneath
Yellow and red hues hem in the plants

Fields sparkle with mustard flowers
A parrot calls from a guava tree
Clouds suddenly come crowding in
Engulf the painting ecstatically

The People Chain

People are people and that can’t change
Unless someone comes and redoes and tames
The new person that the person just made
becomes a person who will just fade 

And that person tries to catch a train 
to find themselves again, but fail with nothing to gain
And they find themselves not able to find themselves
in the midst of all their pain

And that person knows all the woes that the person brought them
and it reminds them of a missing hem in a pair of jeans worn way
All the person wants is to go back and find who they are
but that’s just the truth it’s hard being you when you’re not you

The person laughs and watches in victory 
as if they just did something good
but all they did was leave You to hang
and once again ruined the people chain

The Shepherd

The staff of my Father enjoining the past
futurity’s herding a bleating morass 
The bloodline of orphans forever is linked 
tattooing the flock with invisible ink
The first time the last time when nearing the end
tomorrow’s ungifted excuses portend
And times better nature is better untimed
 beginning and ending forever conjoined
Eternity’s fenceposts hem in with disdain
all future inclemency fire and rain
But just as that last final sheep stays unsold
— my Father returns to re-shepherd the fold

(Dreamsleep: June, 2025)

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