Best Imprinting Poems

The Dark Side of October

Late October moon is waking, through this cemetery shaking,
shaking as the cold wind breaking, walking ‘neath an old oak tree.
Stones like sentries undertaking, guarding graves as hearts are aching,
aching for the still ones staking, such an eerie sight to see –
dark...

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Butterfly memories never can die.
They shine, so I don’t even have to try
to search for them, for easily I find
them in a small gold box inside my mind.

When I’m melancholy, they make me sigh.
Butterfly memories never can die.
I give my treasure box a tiny tap,
and...

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She’s a beautiful mess, a tumultuous sight, 
Red and blue ribbons fall down,
Over her dress, with a shimmering gleam, 
Dancing upon the green ground,

Imprinting a path of honest obscure, 
On the wet stones glowing with grey,
As these ribbons of love cover her ears, 
Taking her...

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How I always lose 
myself within your lines 
Each stanza, and rhyme 
are all so sublime 
Your way with words 
leaves me in awe
Holding such perfection 
and not one flaw 
You’re forever bringing  a 
smile to my lips
As I ride upon your 
many peeks...

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Daughter crime
hooking up with felon Father time
Both got incestuous, crooked desires in mind
Two thieves in a thug hug, 
secrecy intertwine conspiracy vine bind 
Mother brood 
raising a wild pack of dog sharks
to feed on 
minnow murmuring moods
of bottom dwellers street schooled
Imprinting runt dorsal vig tales
with...

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"Composing Opalescent"



Together we arrive 
Composing opalescent 
blue-green green-blue
jaded oceans submerged 
then rising from great waves
thrashing in on our storm 
we are united mast-held and entranced
entwined limbs bathed in sensuality's
St Elmos Fire hitting our sharpest peak
in the milky creamy way our skin meets 
under silver shadows...

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Blackberry bushes barricade the background
of your immature stature.
Braided chestnut hair rests gently 
on weakly shoulders
as your hazel eyes beam a child's rippling wonder.
Bee-glazed berry juice permeates your smiling cheeks.
The taste streams alive as I gaze upon you
with your burgundy splashed denim jumper, 
which belongs in...

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The shower out there fully clothed in snow,
An a.m. stays, so will I remember —       
A kiss let go in cold air, heaven white — 
The very look of you through aspen boughs,
How midnight blew while icicles scattered —...

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SPHINX STONE 

I am Sphinx Stone
Sun stationed statue
silent sculptured synoptic 
not marble or granite 
nor black tourmaline or
crystal sapphire quartz
vortex for Void actualising 
sacred amber ambles

Timelines cutting cross
my magnetic magenta 
miracle to dissipate in
dry desert winds
my gaze unmoved 
as quizzing quantum 
queens swirl around
a Blue...

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I took off my shoes 
and stood ankle deep
in the shallow reach and run
of the waves. I felt a sudden
cold, the slow sink of my feet
into wet sand, the gentle pull
of the outgoing tide,
then a tickle of seaweed 
as it tangled around my shin.

There are...

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Some people write of
things they know...
feeling more daring,
I prefer to explore:
start with a glimpse,
or chase a shadow,
a sliver of light
from a strange door
left ajar, on a path
I obscurely saw – 

Some people write
while I more dream,
imprinting pages
with a glint and a
gleam – in pursuit
of some...

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‘Sankofa’ In 'Safranbolu'

This bird from Ghana’s legends flies forward looking backward
                      In the Twi language twinned with indigenous souls and wisdom
the feathered friend suggests...

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"The Velvet Touched Feathered Quills of Mysterious Books"

Escape arrives easily 
when everything’s ugly 
deep diving into the swelling
pursed lips of smooth purring magi 
seen naked in the skinny dipped
honeyed pools of pausing poetry
kissing the tongues
of mysterious books
tracing fingers 
over their soft 
flimsy pages
their velvet touched
feathered...

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“what inspires you to write
such indiscriminate indiscretions
like that?” he speaks to himself 
and thinks 

not long 
without thinking,
unnaturally he feels,
something, so
 
he promptly writes 
it all down 
without a further
doo-diddley-day

there you go 
a muse 

the muse amused
reads his take on it all
and up her mind...

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I try to ignore the squirming Hyde within 
And, with effort still,
I raise myself for the last traces 
of sunshine and fun.
What was left of the day, I savor for me. 
As the withering leaves of silence
have perfected the petals of stillness,
A quietude.
Such absence of sound
Never a serenity...

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