Best Indelible Poems
An indelible blue looking out to you
seducing the pain to wash away
with stolen keyboard strokes
a few extra x's and o's where
decimals move with inapprehension
carrying fantasy dreams offshore
where sandcastles are built with
riches never to be crowned
holding secret keys to happiness
breathless my tomorrows begin
under guise of the salty moon
worries behind,necks entwined
newly discovered swans swoon
First Love’s Indelible Memory Pure
Deep in my memory remains a pure vision of a first love,
long-forgotten—now conjured up as a present-day image.
This rare, soulful reflection harkens back to another time
long ago to a period of discovery and youthful innocence.
The slow and perpetual ravages of time—dim and affect now
these memories except those replete with passion and emotion.
Other images also enter my mind of things that might have been,
and of things that could have been, but in the end—never were.
Perhaps like many others, very seldom do I ever dwell on such
memories buried deeply in my mind and spiritual consciousness.
With such memories buried so deeply, also come those moments
of inexplicable pain, confusion, and an aching sense of real loss.
But, alas, as I awaken from this image-laden daydream of the past,
I realize the different path and direction I took was the right one.
If there be a lesson to all of this, it is to always know yourself, and
to never be afraid of what love’s pain my bring your way in life.
You can overcome it especially when you realize the role that fate
and destiny play in this whole process as you mature and move on.
The past ghosts of love’s pain are just that, they lie in the past, and in
the past as they should remain as you seek real true love in your life.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
December 3, 2018 (Couplet)
Every single word we write
When posted on the Internet
Creates an Indelible footprint
It remains in the ether
F
O
R
E
V
E
R
Removing or amending a poem, a comment, a blog
A face book posting, a tweet on twitter
Our words don’t get lost in that Internet fog
Just be mindful... one day they may come back to haunt
So …. before you press send
STOP and think before you POST
08-23-17
The cock of day crow over johncrow mountain
Sun come bright
Like Jane and Louise shine eye girl
And light
Just drop from heaven like ripe breadfruit
I pull the darkness from my eyes
And look and see only one thing on my mind
Always like bulla cake and pear
Always like coconut run-down and corn dumpling
Always like bammy, fish and irishmoss
My heart hungry like a jackass groan
I love you ackee and slatfish
The culture like a hook in human flesh
Making genes only the limit of the mesh
I love you sweet potato pone,
Lord, I cry for a kiss, oxygen from a wish
You indelible in my head like a Christmas dish
But I groaning for something different
Something that no cock can crow away
Something the same night and day
Something smooth as otaheite apple juice
Tart as pineapple and sweet
It is my custard apple memory
A tropic fire in my bones
A writing I can't rub out
Indelible thoughts of you
Like cock crow clocking in my brain
A dream swimming in the delirum of pain
I love you like swallow love the rain
And here I am waiting for you
Long morning light
Here I am longing for you
To come online
And as the time goes away
The pain grow big like root
Dig up my bowels with wondering
Lean me on the crutch of constant praying
Indelible you
Indelible pain
Indelible prayer
Indelible love remain
Should I wear myself off in tears?
Should I get myself lost with beer?
Should I dare consult the seers
for the loss of a comely dear?
Can I live onwards with this fear
that your voice I may no longer hear?
Will our friendship be just mere
now that you're no longer near?
My tears flow because it cannot stand
when death gives a blow with its icy hand.
Moments with you is now a deserted land,
much more like a desert without sand.
It’s not possible to buy life with money.
It’s incredible you left earlier for this lonely journey.
It’s a blow and a surprise to me and the many
that death does not respect even the canny.
How I wish you had stayed with me longer
at least for a little while;
then we can share more moments together
as I enjoy more of your smile.
My lovely dearie, rest in peace.
Rest in peace in the bosom of Father Abraham.
My prayer is that you be kept in a place;
a place safe and devoid of every harm.
Footprints in sand, indelible till the tide comes in,
reliable impressions, etched, embedded, enveloped
to form an album of traces:
crab hole excavations,
scurries of hurrying birds,
seaweed twirls wind-driven in curls,
tiny sand flea hop-craters,
crab claw side-step shuffles,
drift-wood scuffs and scuppers
remnants of tidal riffles and ruffles,
snap-shots of scrapes, stomps, scats and scars.
Footprints like graffiti deface the awe of seascape shore
with a mushyheaded mishmash of double-exposed impressions.
Haiku 1/10/2017
indelible
winds smooth the valley
gently cleansing the timber
footprints never fade
1/10/2016
submitted to – It’s time for a little haiku – poetry contest
How romantic of my sweet Albert
Wants tattoo with my name; he’s no flirt
Alb requested a rose
Tattoo inked - a red nose
Alb’s irate kicking him where it hurt!
7/25/19
A clicking clock is a sound warden. A stereo monologue of one syllable. Like an om om. But an om is neither an omega nor a nom nom. And nom noms are said to be as righteous as driving around a drive or a lane with a clear view in sight of a previously blanked out blanket trees. Blanket trees are so very comfortable. Great aren't they?. Loose leaf pillows and a solid base trunk. Unbelievable the sights and sounds of a sewing and knitting course. Click click then but no den made in a duplex pile of material crocheted hems. Cross patch then. Ha ha mr whippet playing with a block of blue ice cream. Ha mangled moöns drying after spin cycle. C v dancing with bodies in a clearing. Clap. Operatic ostriches neighing to ovations. X x x x x incineration z z z z
I sit on a rock and watch children playing
in the park below
They don't see me
Or know my thoughts
Or that you haven't called
But I forgive them their indifference today
Above me a crow caws
Perhaps he smells the crumbs on my dress
Or my anger
But he flits away over the trees
Probably has a home
Probably has a wife
Probably knew to call
The children leave
The coffee in my can turns cold
The wind nips at me
Some street lights flicker on
But I won't move
Not yet
I will wait for the night to chase me
Back where I came from
Up the empty street
To a quiet house
Assailed and held prisoner in my bedroom, I fret
Wondering why mad blood seized my head
Inserting an undue threat
Concealed in the seal of the thread
Running through a bevy of thoughts
Silly at best, folly at worst
Waltzing in my bliss boats in tail coats
As thoughts tumble and fumble at first
Interrogating motives
Banging my head against wintry walls
In ludicrous locomotives
That sprinkle flowers from the cantakerous calls
Whose ringtones break the silence
In the mind in turmoil over expired oil
Flowing and rowing with persistence
In tandem with foot soldiers who toil
To smuggle my remains from the siege
In which flak flies North, East and West
Aiming to smother the last reputation privilege
To which I cling as best as I can in a test
Where frayed nerves hardly endure
As crumbling knock knees plead
For Archangel Michael to ensure
I supplant the wanton weed
That nailed my proclivities into the conundrum
I confront face to face
To the beat of a drowsy drum
Whose cadence faints in the distance with a tame trace
To awaken the conscience in my forsaken shell
Lost in a tangle of spangles
Striving to dispatch my soul to a sinner’s cell
When Jesus dangles triumph triangles
Dragging my spent soul from the pit of despair
In which I couldn’t by my bootstraps
Pull myself to repair the glare and flare
Almost extinguished in wraps
Silken in appearance, earthen in substance
Woven to imperfection as gates of hope snap open
A twenty one gun salute roars to announce
My redemption to the dribble and scribble of an indelible pen.
Sands in her hand
trickle as she closes
her palm to grip them;
She tries to clinch
every grain that flows
for it holds memories
of heartbeats~
indelible in her heart.
those heartbeats still echo~
and as the last grain drops
She whispers to the wind,
“ come back to me!”
2 July 2021
A Brian Strand (July 2) Poetry Contest
1st place
here you are, indelible in my heart.
You nestle there, comfortable, sometimes
Nudging my consciousness if you
Temporarily fade from view.
There you are, a stain that cannot be removed.
Covered sometimes with a cloak of concealment
But always jostling for attention,
Poking, prodding my awareness.
There you are, permanently marked.
Written in my history, always a mystery
That can never be solved, yet mysterious
No more in your familiar familiarity.
I cannot remove you from the blueprint of my life.
You are penned there enduringly, alluringly
Tempting, pulling on my fortitude: undaunted
Undeterred, there you are - eternally.
His wounded heart showed with pride
The scars so deep indelible remain
Reminding the soul of sacrifices made
The burning passions of his to sustain!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
25 July 2015
There are places and events
that are unerasable from memory,
such are the indelible memories of Italy;
no other country was given more
beauty than my Motherland
created by God's artistic hand:
the majestic snow-capped Alps,
the pristine shore washed by rolling waves...
these all tune into Nature's song of harmony
which praises her forevermore!
This wonderful land was chosen for her fertility,
huge fields of golden, waving wheat
that I ran through with incredible joy,
enormous meadows of pretty daisies
either white, pink, red, blue and yellow
protected by mountains echoing with the sheep's bleat;
were they frightened by the wolf's bellow?
All of the panoramic views that the Motherland
offered were so delightful to admire:
seas reflecting serene, cerulean skies,
pristine beaches with crystalline sand,
hills lulled by gentle breezes, valleys shaded by lofty pines
and under them, I pensively sat to contemplate and smile!