Best Hones Poems
My head rests on the doorframe, as I'm watching him at work.
I'm jealous of the devotion, and the motion of his hands,
much surprised at the green-eyed dragon that lurks within my mind,
while he rubs the pungent oil into muscles of the pine.
With rolled up sleeves, a sweaty brow, his rough, sandpaper hands.
he hones a smile along the aisle of every strand of wood
With even strokes, a time-worn cloak is peeled back and released,
where the onion skin of years and wear
had been entombed beneath the grain
He groans with satisfaction, (this Frankenstein, of mine),
while something worn, and tossed away,
is brought to life.
Back from the dead
A shimmering sheen, patina gleams while morning light slides in,
I think I see a swirl of smoke that curls above his head
And the warmth of the wood has sizzled hot, as if the sun came up
No awareness of the passion, engrained upon his face,
he sees me not, .... or my jealous want,.......His needs have been erased.
The lingering scent of linseed has claimed my breathing space
There are swarming nests of sawdust , cart-wheeling in the air,
a strand of hair, falls out of place.......and I cannot tear my eyes from here
The sensual, taunting, simple grace.......my eyes have begged to stay
I stare and marvel, for awhile
A shiver up my spine, implores.....to touch the man I face,
release his trancelike state of mind,
and let his fingers trace
________________________________________
Categories:
hones, love, lust, senses, words,
Form:
Narrative
Tombs begin to bloom like raw, bloodless wounds.
Tomes are written with truths of her dead moon’s
tones. A keening lunacy keeps the dirges alive, while
bones rise out of repose. A degloved hand on the dial
hones into a night rainbow's radio, she runs on solar,
hopes for the rhythm to wrench free from her toller—
copes with the captivity of being bodiless hands. Twilight
comes to chance escape—open palms toward birthright.
Coves burst into flame; a hungry fire wants holier water.
Coven circles, recovers the skinless limbs of their daughter.
Woven like song, sirens' balm to restore coats of missing arms,
women are spells read correctly, using words as our alarms,
woken to language, resurrecting ancient pairs of sacred charms.
Categories:
hones, appreciation, art, betrayal, death,
Form:
Rhyme
Blue velvet caged
Behind rusty bars.
Soul within chars.
Fervent flames raged.
Mighty door creaked
Black-veiled phantoms
Chanting the anthems
Thus the dusts freaked.
All the phantoms read
The holy pages.
The pious sages
For repentance plead.
Life’s last drops
Time’s burning tears.
Soaked deep in fears,
Crushed by crops,
The soul crumples.
Satan’s oracle
Tempting manacle
On heart tramples.
Towers of flesh
Drag my weary bones
As the axe-man hones
His blade afresh
Heard the Devil's voice:
"Crimson Cross!"
My dice to toss
Fate's generous choice!
"Kneel by the altar
Take my rosary,
Or God's pillory.
You have to falter?"
Succumbing feet tread
On scaffold's heart
As the moments part
What's there that they dread?
Nails of Divine love
Prick my palms
Grope for balms
Wails a benign dove
Mocking herd of sheep
Ignorant vultures
The gaze tortures
The wound doth weep.
The Fallen Prince
Roars with laughter:
"The hereafter!?!
Who else to convince?"
"O thou Holy, hark
The Forsaken Son
Has thy Father won?"
All the rest is dark…?
Categories:
hones, death, devotion, faith, life,
Form:
Narrative
Irrefutable evolution conduits
Matter tip toes through tunnels
Microscopic nano shifts continue
Outperformers filter free of funnel
Replicas of kept traits hail heredity
Thrivers cognate with larger logic
Attentive nurture forms pedigree
Love poured over timid progeny
Genome keys cut exacting bones
Entrapped wrapped sticky chrysalis
Nature photocopies, care duly hones
Elevating banquet, perpetual Christmas
Elevation in Evolution
Eighth of December
Desirable Education
Categories:
hones, baby, blessing, endurance, graduation,
Form:
Acrostic
Before you even realize temptations will arise
satan always tries to get you to accept his lies
Replacing for what you long with which is wrong
Not nearly so strong out where you don't belong
In drawing you near as to your desires you adhere
His ultimate goal clear, now just needing your ear
To say the very least hell-bent in refusing to relent
Acting as his personal vent in the message he sent
And now he has won yet with you he's not done
This the beginning of his fun denying you the Son
As he hones his skill in the defeating of your will
Never getting his fill looking for more souls to kill
There is One who can save in the life that He gave
Sin made you a slave and will send you to the grave
Jesus died in your place for Heaven is a gift of Grace
So when emotions race just look at our Lord's face
Seek the Lord and his strength;
seek his face continually!
1 Chronicles 16:11
Categories:
hones, jesus,
Form:
Rhyme
~ Contention grows beyond its mortal vail
to rail against suppression none condone,
for tyranny imposed shall not prevail
when liberty is paid in flesh and bone.
Let not the price deter the bold pursuit
for apprehension steals the breath of life,
arise in arms from ‘neath oppression's boot
to wield the whetted blade of freedom’s knife.
But war is not without its mortal cost,
it leaves all rationale in shadowed doubt,
for freedoms gained, when precious life is lost,
leave ironies triumphant in the bout.
When despots rage, devotion has no fear
as independence hones rebellion’s spear.
3-19-22
Categories:
hones, freedom, war,
Form:
Sonnet
Shower of autumn leaves and acorns,
And rustling sound as I stroll.
Those mesmerising bubbles all-round,
As I dive in the pool.
And also, when, looking into his eyes,
Silently, I can walk thousand miles.
Yes! This is the poetry to me.
The power to see the unseen!
A lady dressed in pink, in my sight.
With complementing accessory soaked in glittery white.
And my heart fondly admires,
Wow! That blushing pink charmer!
Just like an innocent pearl in an oyster.
Adorning beautiful pearl in white,
Gracefully gleaming bright!
And also, when I see those young, tanned lads,
Completely soaked in mud.
And, scaring me, with their thud.
Then, smiling broadly to show their set of teeth.
Oh! I love them, they are all sweet!
Yes! This is the poetry to me.
It definitely beautifies my thoughts!
When I see my friend upset.
Without even a word, I know his mindset.
Slipping quietly my hand on her hand.
I can feel her with my inner strength.
Yes! This is the poetry to me.
It teaches me to empathise.
When I am low
Poetry raises me back, to glow!
When my confidence begins to retire.
Poetry gives me the strength to fight like fire!
Yes! This is the poetry to me.
Always by my side to support me.
Poetry hones in me, a better orator,
As it makes me, a better expresser.
Yes! It helps me to build my character.
My poetry is me!
23/2/19
Sponsor: Silent One
Contest Name: Poetry and ME
Categories:
hones, boyfriend, creation, first love,
Form:
Free verse
Sharp The Edges, Of Poet's Pen Turned To Fight,
( New Dawn,Third Battle And Final Slash ) -
Part Three
From within, a gifted calm brings a tranquil peace
to poet's soul that searched and found a new lease
and with foresight decided to take pen to write,
about shadowy black beast, that stabs in dark of night.
Now massive strength that old poets's pens often yields
succors heart and grants victory on battlefields
new ink hones blade, gifts poetic words that destroy,
that savage beast that sought to make a whipping boy!
From poetry comes a Light that, gives true powers
which destroys wicked beasts, lurking in dark towers
by shining wisdom from classic poetic verse,
to cut those, that such illuminations do perverse.
Lo! Be aware what may be found seeking true Light
Sharp the edges, of poet's pen turned to fight!
Robert J. Lindley, 10-19-2019
Sonnet, ( The Third And Final Battle-- Part Three)
Conclusion- Three Part Series..
Note: This is the last to be written on this subject in regards to
this specific incident. I offer this series for the hiding fool,
the worthless opponent to come on and try to refute.
nuff said... old poet, Still writing...
Categories:
hones, art, character, courage, judgement,
Form:
Sonnet
Art cannot be rushed, patience is a must,
Craft is the same, it's the nature of the game.
First, the artist must adjust, to living life with little fuss.
As he hones his skill, through the power of his will,
Seeing finally through the boundaries,
of his mind now are nil.
With a song in his soul, he knows he's in control,
And words he sings so sweet, this man you won't defeat.
He doesn't live like the rest,
and when he dies he doesn't see it being death.
Therefore you will never know,
when he leaves, the secrets go.
But while he stays most judge his ways,
Never trying to understand,
The Artist is just a man...
/|\
Categories:
hones, art,
Form:
Free verse
Lanterns on a black canvas.
Fireflies dance, prance like ponies on a carousel.
Ricocheting cricket-squeaks,
Bounce among the frog-croaked airwaves;
Bouncing from one wet tip to another.
Spectral trees in the distance
Dance their ancestral dance to this music;
The heartbeat of the waves, keeping time;
natures’ metronome.
One hones the spirit to perfection here;
In the bosom of Mother Natures’ womb.
Touching life’s essence.
Feeding the soul on the nourishment of Gods’ artwork.
We never really leave the womb, you see.
We only re-position ourselves and dream yet, another dream.
No, we never really leave the womb.
Categories:
hones, earth, environment, nature, poems,
Form:
Free verse
Good health
sure wealth.
Heart beats
love greets.
Brain zest
thoughts best.
Face glows
praise shows.
Hands serve
Strong nerve.
Feet fly
steps high.
Firm bones
skill hones.
Pulse rate
joy’s state.
Cells cope
life’s hope.
Saved soul
best goal.
Spirit
stays fit.
Wellness
gladness.
Smooth veins
blood reigns.
Mind light
faith might.
Great lift
God’s gift.
Categories:
hones, appreciation, blessing, christian, faith,
Form:
Footle
After winter’s cold, Apple Blossoms unfold.
Bright, fresh spring brings Bluebells to behold.
Cheery Blossoms burst then dance to ground.
Delightful Dahlias bloom spring all around.
Eastern Redbuds warm cold winter emotion and
Fresh Freesia compliments each spring notion.
Gardenias touch each faith-filled belief.
Hardy Heath hones its spring dream leaf.
Impatiens show the power of flowers.
Jasmine’s scent is softly layered while
Kangaroo Paws hang from the upper air.
Lilacs quench thirsty human eyes as
Magnolias generate sincere, awed sighs.
Nippon Spirea buds use spring to tantalize.
Orchid blooms are a spring-spectacular and
Prime Primrose buds are ever popular.
Quality Quince pome fruit is a beauty.
Ready Ranunculus do their spring duty.
Springtime Sweet Peas and Spirea do their part.
Tender Tartarian Dogwoods warm our hearts.
Uplifting Ursinia blooms heed spring’s call.
Viburnum clusters daintily enthrall
While Wax flowers please us, one and all.
Xeranthemum Sunflowers’ charms never lack.
Yellow Anemone’s sweet power packs and
Zennias’ zest tell us that spring is back.
Categories:
hones, flower, spring,
Form:
Abecedarian
Sometimes we look to closest friends,
Expressly those who think we're ace:
Let them confirm our worth but still
Forget, inside us lies the proof.
Actualization calls for a
Command of strength and keen logic
To shape ourselves, at last, to get
Unknown rewards on our plateau.
And with revealed goals, we take a
Lone journey through heart and soul
In our quest...a long safari,
Zestfully seeking life's pizzazz,
And a fruitful new arena
That hones our talents as our gift.
Inner joy promotes stimuli
Of further searches, that lead to
New trails of self-completion.
Sandra M. Haight
~First Place~
Premiere Contest: Self Actualization Double Acrostic
Sponsor: San Woo
Judged: 11/13/2016
Categories:
hones, confidence, self, success,
Form:
Acrostic
Oh she soars above the twilight
spreads her wings towards the lantern,
instinct hones towards Blighty’s bight
mind confused thinking of Skipton.
Gone the lure of tropical nights
diamond scattered heaven above,
only the cliffs of dolomites
to where here is her true love.
Waiting in anticipation
trauma the drama yet the fight,
together participation
oh once alighted from this flight.
Silver wings bare your robust soul
bring her back safely just for me,
here to play out fate’s active role
at the gate of our minds I'll be!
© Harry J Horsman 2013
Categories:
hones, care,
Form:
Quatrain
ALMOST AN APOLOGY
Sometimes he enchants me with his word
The sea of phrases laps around my feet
His vision hones on truth just as a bird
Seeks its mate to fit a fancy, greet
With the sun each rising lovely day
Preens his feathers shining in the wood
As a flowered clearing on the first of May
Seeks redemption for all Adam’s brood -
The twain, the pair, the loser man with Eve
Stumbling on knowledge – a foxglove’s draught
A sweet sip to stage a sin, as if to grieve
Hard labour, the smithy’s spear and shaft
To gauge surrender, ‘twixt good and evil torn -
To gouge the heart, this child of woman born
by Rosemarie Rowley
from IN MEMORY OF HER 2008
Categories:
hones, boyfriend, earth day, nature,
Form:
Sonnet