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 and dreary, I’m so leery, such an eerie sight to see –
is this but a reverie?
In the graveyard shadows shimmer, dark of night is growing dimmer,
dimmer still without a glimmer, shadows ‘round the old oak tree.
Shadows dancing ever nearer, nearer still and getting clearer,
clearer like distorted mirror, twisting ghastly sight to see –
growing vastly, looming lastly, such a ghastly sight to see –
certainly a reverie?
Piercing sounds are penetrating, ear drums deafening pulsating,
ringing louder, devastating, echoes off the old oak tree.
Echoes bouncing screeching grating, ever louder agitating,
instigating, fears creating, from this ghoulish sight to see –
Am I mulish, maybe foolish, such a ghoulish sight to see –
surely just a reverie?
In the dark my head is spinning, round and round these sights imprinting,
fusing on my brain beginning, questioning my sanity.
All these sights and sounds are weighing, weighing as the ghouls are playing
playing as they do their preying, preying on my vanity –
I am praying, ghouls are swaying, preying on my vanity –
have I lost my sanity?
Eerie night just seems persisting, lasting as my mind is twisting,
waiting for daylight’s assisting, lighting up the old oak tree.
Eerie sights and sounds now fading, dark of night for daylight trading,
light of day is now invading, leaving me to clearly see –
seeing nearly, life so dearly, oh so clearly now I see –
must have been a reverie…..
or have I lost my sanity?
July 26, 2018
Categories:
imprinting, dark, horror, october, scary,
Form:
Rhyme
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 memories awaken from their nap.
How beautiful are my jeweled butterflies.
They softly flutter as I watch them rise.
Butterfly memories never can die.
I take them out sometimes to let them fly.
They settle on my muse from time to time,
imprinting their sparkle of rhyme sublime!
Though my soul will leave this realm by and by,
butterfly memories never can die.
written May 19, 2016
Categories:
imprinting, memory, poetry,
Form:
Quatern
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 and dips
I can taste each word
that you recite
Leaving me with such a
pleasurable delight
I breathe in each breath
that you describe
Experiencing each of the
pieces that you scribe
When I lost faith in love
you made me feel
When I lose hope they
show me what’s real
When if I allow each
word to engulf me
Pulling me in, while they l
softly embrace me
As I read between your
perfectly written lines
They hold me imprinting
their design
As if lovers I can truly
feel your heat
Striking a blaze within
making me complete
December 8,2020
Categories:
imprinting, word play, writing,
Form:
Rhyme
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 heartache away,
But her eyes are free, screaming the truth,
The truth of those words all unsaid,
Her eyes tell the story of the pain that she walked,
She walked while lying in bed,
She’s a conflicted story, she’s dug herself out,
With a beautiful life to restart,
Hiding the butterflies buried deep down,
The butterflies dead in her heart.
Categories:
imprinting, emotions, feelings, heartbreak, heartbroken,
Form:
Quatrain
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 a devouring loan interest attitude
Like father, like daughter
Evil is, evil become
Like mother, so are the sons
Wicked poison flower, wicked petal blossoms
Family of privileged gangsters;
from rotten fruit, spoiled seeds sprung
DNA genie-ology:
witches ~ warlocks conceived
by blood occult umbilical wizardry
Inherited death
will be all in the family
Cursed wealth,
it will estate all in the family
Snake in the grass grifter grafted stealth
give get you
adopted into this viper family,
so devilishly easy
Destiny rooted in brimstone soil,
be any branch from this evil tree
Categories:
imprinting, allegory, family, truth, wisdom,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
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 an art museum,
but remains in my heart.
Your quarter full pail fills with sunshine brined time.
In search of the best, you request my help
to reach the hierarchy of treats,
those that brush the sun's ripening wonder first.
A perfumery of sweet harvest freshness
tickles my nasal cavity with nostalgia.
Your imprinting hand hugs mine as
my prime pickings are exchanged for smiles.
I can almost hear your laughter,
scattering impulsively throughout my longing.
In this photograph, for only a moment,
I can almost bring you back.
2/25/2020
Categories:
imprinting, girl, happy, i miss
Form:
Free verse
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 —
Our first hours quiet under snow's brief time,
There melting in snow, our bodies, thinning,
Us giving in our heat into Winter —
I shook myself on brass; yourself was mine.
We've made baby snow angels imprinting —
Early morning chimes.
Categories:
imprinting, beautiful, february, fire, love,
Form:
Curtal Sonnet
I am Sphinx Stone, Sun stationed statue
silent sculptured synoptic, not marble or
granite nor black tourmaline or crystal
timelines cutting cross my magnetic
magenta miracle to dissipate in dry
desert winds, my gaze unmoved
as quizzing quantum queens swirl
around a Blue Planet ascending
Sphinx Stone gathering goddess’ goodness
whilst slippery Sophi-el sprinkle sparkle
Nile evaporations down Sumerian
phantom phœnix photons
here I stare broken-nosed across vast
expansions exiting or entering dual
portal claws hot rooted into Violet Flames
of Mother Earth belying my etheric origins
Did Leo descend from helium heavens
painstakingly perfect from His tumultuous
gut with goblets of gold, goblins gyrating ?
ask you may North African secrets slither
no soiled sounds to simmer in sandy
storms or scarlet sunsets spreading
spells, silence my singular speech to
skulls of pharaohs or peasant alike
I am Sphinx Stone, my silhouette
signposted in simple or significant sigils
Saturn’s starlit sighs bypass not my
knowing aloof yet vacant stare which
agelessly gather stories of aeons
imprinting dreams of God into manifest
luminosity becoming your words on lion
bones or this ephemeral page
Sphinx Stone I see sabian riddled profiles
making prolific progress patterns filled
with steely grit, come now release
agitated ages of bygone bitters to
prick or paddle dimensions where
appled anemones sing my stare into song to
swallow swiftly sweetly slivers of sanctities
I remain Sphinx Stone stable
unsullied forevermore
Categories:
imprinting, africa, age, color, extended
Form:
Ballad
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 moments like this
when you become the sum
of your own sensations.
The world was being taken in
through my feet, sipped joyously
as if each nerve was savoring
whatever came in contact
with my skin. It was electric.
I was motion, the deep throb
of breaking waves finding
a resonance, a seashell
imprinting an image of itself
through my heel, the freedom
of wiggling toes. I felt as if
I was being lifted
by a strange buoyancy until
the cold spread its numbing chill
and I stepped out of the water
back into my shoes,
into my own small footprint.
Categories:
imprinting, joy, sea, self, senses,
Form:
Free verse
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 ever
illusive beam....
Categories:
imprinting, imagery, imagination, inspirational, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
‘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 to go back and get it and I suppose
some fly backwards while looking ahead but then life is not only
Chronos but 'Kairos' with the meter entwined and composed
At this precise moment not alone in this moving instant it waves
and oscillates conjoining what was and will be when the present
is the past in a flash and one cannot step into the same river again
yet the future is shaped by the past the here and now a 'Kairometer'
transcending artefacts and boundaries into ‘truths’ and reality
The bird flies and time flows back and beyond near and far
further on wings and pinions with roots at heart
In ‘Safranbolu’ the ancient Ottoman town on the Black Sea Coast
and thus close to Ghana in real time place and connection
the old man had been tending the clock in the tower both man and
the turret free standing and wise still present and one
‘Seventy years’ as he explained pendulum hands and the wheels
What memories pride mechanics precision preserved aspiration and
dignity flying into the face of the clock and the distortions of time
Mustafa had climbed those steps so often had rung the bell
oiled the time keeper had not forgotten a day of his duties
had become one with the time piece and stood still many times
in awe of monument and pacing the sleepy old town yet
he flew forward so peacefully looking back in retrospect and respect
He has watched birds history duration impermanence imprinting the
meaning of a life worthy of living in honour of what is the present
20th November in all past and future revisited
Categories:
imprinting, time, tribute,
Form:
Free verse
“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 goes,
the ride, like a pole
flags, waving
checkered,
black and white,
racing all the way
up and down
down and up
the rollercoaster thrill
of it all
jack was planting seeds
for his bean stalking tour
counting the footsteps
along the imprinting way
she wasn't eating
her curds and whey
you have to be quick
like you know,
nimble
sometimes
she galumphs
naturally
unnaturally
across the page
burlesque,
headlights
turned on, full beam,
delivering the splits
smiling
for laughs,
the laughs,
always splitting the mix
can-can
she thinks,
masked, yet best
in tap dance shoes
nakedly
confronting
fingers tapping
minds pointing
un-a-mused
qué más se puede pedir
Spanish for those untouched
uber tall flaming flamingoes
que puis-je dire
French kissed
all the way
for the les enfants terrible
a - mused
fearlessly venturing
forward
for more
let them go,
the others
waltzing Old Time
away, out the door
'tis better
elemental
she feels
the win-win
can-can
she thinks
and smiles
amused
indiscreetly
not
turning
away
win-win
she smiles
a full-wattage
salute
can-can
She
thinks,
begin
the beguine
indiscreetly
not
turning
away
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Categories:
imprinting, muse, symbolism,
Form:
Free verse
"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 quills hooked
removing covers slowly
imprinting new movements
like scoring symphonies
Escape arrives easily
deep diving into the swelling
pursed lips of the smooth purring magi
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Categories:
imprinting, muse, sensual, word play,
Form:
Narrative
"Heeling Mephistopheles"
murdering crows
flies in on the bow
of a Stradivarius
strange webs cleared
from the mind of
Machiavellian insolence
insisting life written
by dancing fingers
pressing monochrome
due diligence for justice
wrapped in blankets of
cloudy deliverance
tack a piercing
bittersweet
entendre
all the ebony wiles
imprinting jewels
for stringing
persuasive
shiny
stratagems
become ivory pearls
tingling vanilla dalliances
crisp and clean cut
new teeth
for gripping
dark contra
bones from corsets
broken and scattered
for ancient tomes
maestro buttons
for plucking
songs home
sharp pleats
skirting over
what’s buried beneath
floorboards
fathoms deep
waiting for its feed
words slip through
eye of needle, the threads
flowing cursives
through the cracks
osseous matter for a black dog
composed humming Bach
impromptu strokes
for hidden angles
offering tongue out
for words, to speak
angel notes
like legs running
across fresh sheets
bars raised ropes
concerto chords
like sails billowing
helm held hard
fast forward en route
encore
dark Mephistopheles
jibed
heeling
dark Mephistopheles
en route
encore
heeling
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
homonyms.
jibe
heeling
homophone.
bach
Mephistopheles.
Stradivarius.
Bach.
Machiavellian.
Categories:
imprinting, muse,
Form:
Free verse
Conjured an ocean of emotions
Within me lured, twisted and tangled
Swiftly and quickly my heart pounding
At a thought, a vision, a moment
All my senses invited and aroused
To play in a circle for answers
I lay washed up on the shoreline
A journey with the waves to ponder
Every part of my being, wrestling
the forgotten and the unknown
Alive, awaken, eyes wide open
My mind, body and soul to take
I sacrifice to dance in the circle
Questions and answers I seek
Emotions and moments that spark
Imprinting on my mind to last
Come forth to replace that which is gone
To blast the past and pave for the new
Its all experience, that makes me
I seek who I am and what I want
The hardest journey to go on
Answers hardest to seek.
Categories:
imprinting, introspection, life, love, journey,
Form:
Free verse