Best Hollow Eyed Poems

I beseech the shards of my shattered self,
as recollections collect with a jagged edge,
for a softened reflection of a dream in smithereens
to sheath this sunken cheeked shadow
lost in the mirrored fragments 
of hollow-eyed tears.


Susan Ashley
February 12, 2019


~ Sixth Place ~
Premiere Contest: May 2019 Premier 4...

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Migrants on the move from violence
their only possession
breath-space on a smuggler’s boat
secured with back-bent harvests 
in pretzel-bent systems
weight of crates of strawberries 
hoisted on hell-bent backs
just trying to reach Spanish-shores’-east 
from Moroccan beach with a camel-mystique
—the seaway west of Africa 
a rags-wearing-flotsam grave

migrants on the...

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Late night summons madmen, 
madams, bold streetwalkers,
picking pennies from the gutters
as the merchants close their shutters
and the homeless crouch in doorways
in their rags, against the cold.
Black or white, no compromise,
no colours clothe the empty streets,
as Bobbies tread their lonely beats,
the watchmen rub their crusted eyes
and...

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Something's changed, I don't recall this door.
The mat that once read 'welcome'...now gone. 
Am I lost in the night, or had I forgotten some slight..
had my address been quelled by another time?

The new curtains in the bay window seem nice,
though..not the deep blue highlighted sash...

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Nightscapes

...inspired by 'Rhapsody On A Windy Night' 
       by T.S. Eliot


Late night summons
madmen, madams, bold streetwalkers,
picking pennies from the gutters
as the merchants close their shutters
and the homeless crouch in doorways
in their rags, against the cold.
Black or white, no compromise,
no...

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As time shortens
The aisles fill
Hollow-eyed scavengers
Prowling ransacked shelves
The challenge
Of the “tic-toc” clock
Santa will get the credit
They will get the debit
As they sit deluded
Batteries not included
...

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He was eight when he came to us,
a special Christmas Eve gift,
small, quiet, hollow eyed, hungry.
 
Gifts under the tree bore his name.
His eyes devoured the table,
laden with food, cookies, pies.
“Let’s eat,” I said, “Gifts can wait.”

After all the packages were opened,
he said, “Grandma, can...

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no arms

to break my fall


I wait

hollow-eyed

for sleep


silent sentry

in the jungle night


I lie cemented

in self


counting black holes

in space


where once

there were stars

to wish on




~  Harley White...

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First class brains
Streets populated with them
Flaunting certificates--useless
Plus innate knowledge practical,
But unrecognised
 
Tightfisted bourgeois;
Alienated job opportunities
Reserved for own kids born and unborn
Capitalism overblown;nauseous
Grab and keep philosophy elevated
Who do you know?Who don't you know?
Keys to haven
 
You could trudge to the Sahara,
Build sand dunes,clamber atop
To reach the...

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Late night summons madmen, 
madams, bold streetwalkers, 
picking pennies from the gutters 
as the merchants close their shutters 
and the homeless crouch in doorways 
in their rags, against the cold. 
Black or white, no compromise, 
no colours clothe the empty streets, 
as Bobbies tread their...

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Hellacious howls tickle and titillate 
the trompeleil scene
 in the pastel Court of Kings.

Flamboyancy rings as the 
 fluttering coo of a rapiers dance  in the hands of fops,
through the high ceilinged corriders of castle     in the chill air 
buzzing...

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Late night summons madmen, 
madams, bold streetwalkers, 
picking pennies from the gutters 
as the merchants close their shutters 
and the homeless crouch in doorways 
in their rags, against the cold. 
Black or white, no compromise, 
no colours clothe the empty streets, 
as Bobbies tread their...

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Sea life Remembered 
Tropical night with extras added on like moon and stars.
I stood by the railing dreaming as the ship tilled its way
towards Jamaica, jet black sea but the transient furrow 
the ship made was white; the ocean sang a sweet dirge,
and before I...

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submerged in blankness
helpless to escape bereavement
frail and broken, hollow eyed

hope is a remnant
the burden of countless tears
lines etched deeply in her face....

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Late night summons madmen, 
madams, bold streetwalkers, 
picking pennies from the gutters 
as the merchants close their shutters 
and the homeless crouch in doorways 
in their rags, against the cold. 
Black or white, no compromise, 
no colours clothe the empty streets, 
as Bobbies tread their...

Continue reading...