Best Hollowing Poems
Harken...those hollowing drums
Over cold vales so beat,
Exhorting a multitude of glistening
Star-tipped spears,
As marching over shattered landscapes
In shinning replete:
Crunch Artumes eternal legions
Across the snow bound years.
Casting down from the mauve
And cloudless heights
The pale witch broods upon her dark
runes;
Chilled breath steaming mutterings
Of meddling spite,
Uttered under Luna risings
Of half waxen moons.
Repulsed from the presence
Of the holy alters sacred glow,
That cuts like a torch
Across Yules Feast of Lights,
She incants of harsh Boreas
To relent his fierce blowes:
Raising high her crystal towers
To breach the walls of stilled night.
Tis now, away from cheery hearths
And the warm fires they keep,
That warring frost tightens
Upon this hardened land;
Happily sated people
Turn in contented sleep;
Motionless vapours are crushed
In the grip of an iron clad hand.
For as the siege heightens
In relentless might
Heavens wheeling sentinels
Begin to slowly withdraw:
Retreating upon spiraling orbits
Fading from diminishing sight;
Ghostly armies embarking
For far frozen shores.
Loosen now the silver longships,
Afloat on tides of drawing moonlight,
For the Red Goddess slumbers
In deep canyons to the west;
Artumes armies sailing
Into grey dawns fleeting respite...
Awaken... Oh Glorious Aurora...
Scattering your foes -
Before Sunrises conquest!!
The Calamity of Nepal Part 2 Concluded
The crisis of Nepal is not only the result
Of manmade deeds and erratic constructions
Of erecting unplanned houses and roads
Creating illegal buildings and dams
And erecting high mountain reservoirs
On ocean like river Brahmaputra. 08
All these and many other
Horrible acts
Of changing or removing the mountain peaks
For roads, rails and for
Making concrete jungles
Without caring that
It is the most sensitive area of Earth
Where two giant Earth plates
Meet regularly almost everyday
Not for making gossips
But for making their kind of Love
Where, they often collide with each other
To determine, who has lost and who has won
These forces create
Havocs like the one we are witnessing in Nepal
They do it to take revenge
For the cruelties
Done by humans with the Nature
And with the mother earth. 09
The Earthquake is also the result
Of hollowing the heart of Himalaya
For making tunnels after tunnels and rails
For mining the hills and
Deforesting the green valleys
Removing forests after forests
For illegal mining and for erecting dams
For these reasons perhaps
The Earthquakes has hit Nepal and India both
But in Nepal it has done the worst
In spite of being affected by this crisis too
India is trying its best to help the people of Nepal
And now there are many other countries
Trying and helping the people of Nepal
Like a true good neighbor and well wisher. 10
All that is needed
In the hour of this terrible crisis
Is that we all should try to help
The people of Nepal
Treating them like our own
Next door neighbors and friends
For which every faith and religion
Always inspires us. 11
Ravindra K Kapoor
Kanpur India 30th April 2015
Love comes in all
shapes and sizes – Thank God!
Myself having evolved in some
rather, undesirable directions...
But what is the same anymore?
Environmentalists say, not the sky!
Not the seas! (Seagulls flying off
with bees to who knows where?)
As those wide-open spaces – gone!
Concrete and steel having replaced
colorfully tinted rural faces, with grimacing
gray features – tenements rabid with crime
and moral filth...desperately in need
of far more heavenly graces – or, at the least,
the lofty illusions pearl-necklaced TV Moms
once gave us.
Libraries, the sacred cloisters of
of enchanted places and mystical dreams,
no longer bearing, at the least
informative fruits for deliberative
minds; such institutions polluted
with Liberal Politics, personal greed
coupled with insane hunger for
for power over more docile others,
a hollowing of the human soul
leaving a bitter emptiness
and disconnect where once
thrived the fertile seeds of cooperative
living...
So, what is the new normal?
Hell if I know! Politicians
speaking out of both sides of
elongated, medically enhanced
lying mouths – technically new?
Educators enunciating with their
backsides – but now their pant’s fully down,
Punctuating a Marxist agenda, their
transforming goals openly on display --
perhaps for them, a new honesty?
College students confused as to which
way to turn in bed – enough to confound
the most flexible contortionist….
Thank God for alcohol!
Abandoned are thine eyes, as they see not faces or light. Search now do they not, for there is no longer beauty in sight. The shapes of the world blur together, left now are no distinguishing lines. Only hues of greys lay before him, contrasting like shadows cast forth in to night. Tastes are fowl now and colors have faded… like the light from this travelers eyes. Wearily forced to trudge about this desolation, he slowly fades with each stride. Each breath a grain of sand, tumbling through the hour glass of that which is life. Faces lack detail as one blurs another, for each one, is always the same. A crafted grin, with familiar hints of a warm and welcomed embrace, hiding only intent to lay wrath upon him, he shutters with each whim. Tears form behind his hollowing eyes, blurring vision, of what lay before him. His face, lined with shame and regret blood tears and sweat, onlookers laugh as all now they mock him. Every gift of breath revealed as punishment though committed of no crime. He finds peace as his time here is drawn. A smile cast across his lips as does he know he cannot go on. His shadow fades into dust on the horizon. The light he once cast forth now gone, as the moon gives chase to the sun. This travelers journey now over, as surely as night is followed by dawn.
I see it right there, the subtle changes,
As you tuck those toes underneath your tights,
Fighting behind silences and sickening sunrises,
Contain yourself, you might cross a fire you can’t outcry,
I can hardly see those eyes through the mirror, hollowing through like a swirling tip of a tornado,
As if muffled drums were held still on cotton gloves,
The tiny twitches as you twist those thoughts,
Drowning in words to the point you see no light,
I guess your lips have learnt the lungs of quiet,
And your tears have tasted grace of terrors,
You’ve gone far enough and I hope you find north,
Walking in shattered bones one too many times,
Swimming through waves like a forgotten shadow,
Forgive me for this outrageously unwritten absence,
Pretending perfection while these veins remain paralyzed,
What more of your heart is left to give,
When you’ve played it like a tune with a broken grove,
The beastly blues voicing it’s protective aggressions,
Maybe one day I’ll love you out loud and all your shortcomings,
In the meantime I shall learn to make peace with breaths you take.
Glancing down from breathless heights,
Amidst climey sighs,
The looming colossus awakens from slumber
And stretches across Thelwalls linear skies.
The hot engines hissing steam -
Recalled from fond memories long back -
Tumbling like huffing little rain clouds
Down from the lofty metal track;
Wherein brightly painted carriages:
The publicans daughter, the verger,
The magistrate, the chief executive -
Seated first class, all habitually sat.
Swift grandiose arches, a celebration
Trumpeting the artful masons cunning devise,
Boast loudly of the great towers
Parallelogram of terrific forces:
Crossing over in giant leaping strides.
Here below, like Hercules reclining,
The stoic gates of Latchfords black fortress locks
Lift to brace against the immense swell
Far and beyond the chimming remarks
Of Greenhalls absolute, mechanically proven,
Georgian bell;
When, ensconced within a purpose-built,
Purple brick tower:
Strikes the centuries old brewery clock
On the twelfth
Of every God given hour.
A rich bankers cantilever
Pushes doggedly against opposing, sheer,
Red Sandstone walls;
Again the mauve and azure rock pigeon claps...
And then...coo, coo, cooingly calls.
Dry buzzing heat blurs over
The hum of a high noons imcumbent midday;
The coup-de-gras scimitar wing stoops -
To fasten onto its slower-witted prey!
Steeped sides slipping amidst tumbling yellow
Gorse and sporadic flowers
Balk at the foreboding waters edge,
Where, over the denizens swirling bowers,
The resolute little rusting lugger,
Puffing and chugging,
relentlessly dredges and scours;
Churning the murky Eastham silts
That drab Manchester draw:
Into the vast hollowing quays
On beachless, concrete Salfords industrialized,
High-rise dockland shore.
Through the deepest part of the black
Channel
A salt grimed hulk smoothly slips...
Attached by a twisted hemp to the tugboat
That hauls the great ships.
Stirred by the bow waves
Flowing and ebbing like currents in time:
From the trough to the peak
The jettison and flotsam climbs -
Before succumbing to powerful undercurrents
Of irresistible designs!
White swans are lost
Lost in a low tide with
Their eyes focused
Focused in an upward gaze while
Their heavy feathers muddy so
Muddy black and senile
Are forcing that damn bird and
Another bird go down deep
Down to suffer in black sand
Eyes of men are following
Following the scene with their
Hearts so cold and hollowing they
Are looking silently
Observing silently how the birds
Freeze slowly and vainly
They freeze to death while
Losing all grace their
Beautiful grace
Listen to the following
For it's the story of a lie
I follows the life of a girl who never did try
Choked up and absorbed in self-wallowing
Nothing but the sound of a heart hollowing
She threw her nights away bleeeding through her eyes
Trying to be free but left with nothing but sighs
A twist of the knife and she's reduced to crawling
Your white wings have turned black from being too late
This is all jsut a game to you
A sick game I've come to hate
you take my breath and use it for your own words
I'm your evil angel and you've been denied
This ends our story so let's see how much we've cried
Echoing against the alpine valley's deepest depths,
In the timbers hear their thunderous voices,
For they are the spiritually liberated, the kindred
To the restless spirit of the wilderness.
Our native brethren guardian, hollowing unto
The night moon above, singing the chambered
Music of solitude's paradise.
It is a mournful cry, a haunting rhythm of this
Unchained melody, sung by a forest creature
In isolation the wolf, whom was born wild and
Free, behold the untamed survivor, living
From tooth and claw.
Running within the illumination of the full
Moons glow, do these night devils patrol,
For foods raw hunger drives this kinship's pack,
On the basic instinct to thrive and survive.
Loving mothers of fur to kin, nuzzlers their youth,
Covered in the blood of satisfactions hunt,
For it is the law of the ancient, that the strong
Live on wards, and the weak of the herd thinned,
By deaths teething predator.
Shadow stalkers lining the snow banks of ice,
Waiting to ambush with speed and stealth.
Wilderness chameleons blending within their
Natural habitat's forest realm, in their eyes
Gleams the spark of freedoms beauty,
And within the beast, beats the wild heart
Of liberation, no longer lost in isolation's
Paradise, for the lone wolf has found
His kindred path at last.
Listen to the echoing voices from mountain
Top, to the distant peaks beyond, howling in
Unison, for tonight the mystical forest is alive,
Stirring with the songs of the wolves, singing
In happiness unto one another, in the timbers.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Old uncle time has called me
to the task; procrastination
has had its run.
Now is the time
and the time is now;
I must keep on the path
to the task ahead.
To stop in the middle
of present trials
and tribulations is to defeat
self; questioning the promise
by the God of deliverance
from all evil and the soaring
as if on the wings of eagles.
Let Jacob’s strength
be the climbing motivation;
the courage of Job,
the faithful determination.
Once more and again,
let it be realized that the weary
ancestors did more with less;
leaving us less to do with more.
With legacy on our side;
the pillars of faith and hope
in our heart; the hammer of
persistence in one hand and
the nail of determination in
the other, nothing can turn us
around.
Just got to keep on talking;
keep on walking—fighting
until freedom is won.
All praises due to the Most High
for granting another day
perpendicular to the level plane;
continuing the labor of love
to bring closer, the total liberation
of a once enslaved people
who are now rooted and branching
in the midst of this waste hollowing land.
I feel you like a gaping wound,
A great fetid, gangrenous maw
That will never close.
I feel you eating me alive,
Your disease,
Penetrating brain and bone
Psyche and soul.
Leaving me twisted, broken
Decrepit and defiled.
Your love is vile.
You whisper promises
To spiders and flies
Of my stone-dead corpse
Rotting in silence
Amid decaying forgotten things.
Gladly,
I kissed your putrescent lips,
I tasted your sanguine affection,
Ingested your infection.
You have become my drug.
My life.
Loathsome,
Yet I love you still.
Lost in your mephitic grace,
Wasted.
I wait…
You are the shine that blinds
And distracts me from the pain
Of your ministrations,
Your manipulations.
You sing and caress
As your virus oozes through my veins,
Burning away all that I am.
You kiss and cajole me
Into believing that this is love.
Lust.
I feel your desperate hunger
As you burrow deeper inside me,
Hollowing my heart
For your carnal pleasure.
It feels like love.
Your emptiness feels like home.
My friend AJ and I walked down the street
Listening to music, on Twitter we tweet
Then suddenly I hear the steps following
And I turn to a Wood Pecker, a tree hollowing
I laugh off my jumpiness and turned back to AJ
As she stares out into the street, relaxation missing
So my head turns too as I look out and see
A tall woman and man staring down at me
At first my throat swells and then I finally get out
“Excuse me, sir, ma’am, please watch out”
As we try to go around, they block our path
AJ looks up at the woman, I at the man
Listening to my heart race I quickly run around
AJ tries to follow but they’ve got her on the ground
Hearing her screams kept my legs moving
Too late, my mind said, you were showing
The fear,
The hope,
The life I’d be losing…
The waging war ended with a cry of sorrowful joy.....grapes of sour tastes are scattered at the end of the caursed iroko log....frost of dry feelings repeat its sound of cold smoke....my joy rouse from today to yesterday...drowning in unpleasant laughter strands of hydro filled my flat chin with the motive of entering my wethered mouth it was salty ....salty like war as just started...my soul unites with my body...it just another of noiseless desire for murder...the partition continues...happiness filled in me again with hatred i stabbed my ached heart and i died my death....gains of conflicts is here lets share....wailing of the child still tells moonlight fears in ears...the partition tares...the gains of war is here lets share....wrapped with faded prints she danced round eri and cried....alas my jaw smiled with desperation...hollowing in forestial chants the soldiers marched in anguish....we lost...this is the gain of dispute...this is my share..it ended
The old bent withered tree had weathered many storms.
At one point, a hollowing out began at its thickest part.
A specific shape took form; the old tree had grown a heart.
For Sijo contest by Rick Parise
Within the cold gray stone,
It lives a spiritual humming,
A strumming rhythm of natures
Raw essence.
Breathing rock inhaling, exhaling
As the earthen elemental surrounding
Conscious thought.
Knowledge’s smoothed edges, leave
Reasons rough coarseness exposed.
Humanities deaf ear, hears only,
The hollowing of the four winds,
Shutting out enlightenment's truth.
Natures dream weaver touches
Heaven,
With her softest silken finger tips,
And gods canvas falls unto earth.
Behold a tapestry deepest blue,
Lit by universal stars.
In the stone circle,
Mankind lifts innocence vial,
Revealing ignorance blindness
Of sight.
And feels humiliation smallness.
It's singular aloneness, individuality,
Quest for immortality exists,
On baron grounds frosted soil.
In stillness silence, behold the
Ring of fire.
Lighting divine spirits to flame,
Flickering embers alight igniting
Destiny's spark.
Intellect, intelligence a rebirthing
From deaths black darkness.
Within the cold gray stone,
It lives a spiritual humming.
A strumming rhythm of
Natures raw essence.
Breathing rock, inhaling,
Exhaling.
As the earthen element’s
Surrounding conscious thought.
A cathedral of stone,
With one disciple
Left in prayers knelling position.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN