Best Indentations Poems
I am winter
I can hear the birds singing,
calling for the sun to rise
from dark branches scraping an alabaster sky
Full of life they sound,
perched high above a frosted lawn,
clinging to sticks, crooked and bare,
formed of countless years trying
and mistletoe nightmares
Frigid sonatas echo
through a stoic countryside,
white dustings coat sparse thicket
woven in below freezing motions
Footprint remnants, slight indentations
wander finding nowhere a reality
along disguised pathways
Melodies bridge the breeze across
a lonely corn field of empty rows
and a garden of sleeping blooms
Life waiting to be reborn,
to paint the landscape with color,
bringing happiness to the birds,
chirping on the cusp of new,
the edge of beauty,
as eastern horizons wake
Grey skies still cling to the heavens
I listen, quietly to this music
as if their harmonies will lift
the chilly loneliness from my heart
Chambered worries of what will come,
frozen rivers in icicle vistas
Counting sunsets until spring arrives,
when I whisper a sad good bye,
but I will return…
I am winter
Chef 's Winter dishes are simply delicious, not too much oil or cream.
Rich or plain, taste tested to perfection, tiny portions sometimes steamed
He starts the day with freshly squeezed orange juice,coffee and toast.
And embarks on a fitness journey along the seaside in Adelaide.
Today he is going to create a seafood bisque inspired by his walk.
This morning whilst walking along the beach he noticed the outgoing
Tide and outlet left a long groove with definite honeycombe indentations
snaking parallel to the shore for a distance near a giant swirly starfish.
From an aerial perspective it looked like a Christo dragon , hardened ripples
representing the scales and the sometimes swirling patterns here and there
where the giant Sea-dragon moved, slithered or shifted about in the sand .
The Sea-Dragon must have laid there for some time before he disappeared
as his scales were deeply impressed and clearly embossed in the firm sand.
A clear body of water flowed in the center of this outlet echoing the scales
shimmering and gleaming with sunlight smoothly on the groove's surface.
Upon seeing this ,Chef etched it in his memory and began to mentally gather
ingredients for his creation.How could he give his bisque the dragon flavour?
Grilling the whiting, prawns and scallops with butter laced with honey , chilli,
cardamon + crushed nuts , garlic, a dash of brandy.......
then adding chicken stock , lime , thyme ,cracked pepper , rock sea salt and
finally pureeing the lot with a splash of coconut milk.
As rust falls from the anchor
Where do sandcastles go
when the tide engulfs the view and
lonely shorelines crest in tear drops
beneath white capped dream chasers,
foam laced erasers combing sanded wishes,
taking towers in the water's rage
as moats become minor indentations
on a beach bathed in the moon light,
moving gleams in metronome tickling
as our hearts wash out to sea
drowning in the depths of forbidden love
and with my final breath,
salt water drenched I profess
that forbidden or not, I love you
and the lighthouse shines its orbiting light
as I go under for the last time
happy in my declaration
as rust falls from the anchor
and I wait until we meet again,
on the island of meant to be
He looks of far and in between
White hair with diamonds from the sky
A wood of wiry glow around
Expressive fingers, braiding braids
Forgotten strands of gold-spun hair
His feet swept pebbles in the surf
Small indentations filled with silt
With every look I hoped to see
His eyes on me with how I wished
To will his want to be for me
Be loved without a shred of doubt
To have his golden eyes on me
To magic shameful into proud
***
© Darren White
4 foot iambic blank verse
FATE LEADS THE WILLING
when my life
my very wellbeing
depends on the actions of those around me
it’s a trial to my innate sensibilities to bring my side
if my destiny is to live my final years in isolation
cut off from the interaction with others
it shouldn’t be any hardship
as I can employ this time to the enrichment of my scant knowledge
to learn to do without material trappings of this capitalist world
admit that we are guided by the rules of nature
and I must accept all things are beyond one’s own personal power
every day
every hour
every minute of my day
is another chance for a different path
there are very few things that we can control
also those who resist the pull of Fate will feel hamstrung by events that alter
their life plans
an individual who accepts the things that occur in life that are beyond his
control
can lead a happy life by controlling negative emotions and passions
et du volentem fata nolentem trahunt*
_________________________________________________________________________
*both Fate leads the willing and drags the unwilling
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POET'S NOTE: The prepenultemate and penultimate lines (both 23 syllables per line - the top of the range as far as breathing is concerned) overrun the line space, hence the indentations.
All lines were checked via Howmanysyllables.com
MAP OF EUROPE - OBJECTUM SEXUAL *
O coastline with cool expanse of blue Atlantic
Your curves and indentations drive me frantic.
Sometimes thrust out peninsularly;
Sometimes studied docilely and scholarly;
Land stretching from White sea and Iberia
To Black Sea and Siberia.
O Europe, my virgin obsession geographical
Is verging on possession sexual.
Other continents are jealous - Africa is so island-poor, so peninsula-penniless,
And of rivers, capes and bays it has many less:
It would give a pretty penny to have just one Iberia, Jutland, or Scandinavia
To excite its smooth coast and other geographic behavior.
Australians would love islands with romantic names Capri Lesbos Rum Eig Frisian
Or an archipelago-infested sea like the Aegean.
South Americans cry themselves to sleep at night because they lack
Such Nordic coastal features as Trondheim or Skaggerak
Beijing would give all the tea in China because she must
Satisfy her desire for an Italian-shaped peninsula, a bootless lust.
Of course Asia feels no envy, for it has kukri-shaped Kamchatka
And the only large island in the world, Sumatra,
Which rhymes with the best singer in the world, Sinatra.
This Map of Europe is something I just have to possess.
My life is incomplete without its caress.
If I didn’t have it, my world would be a mess.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………….
NOTES
1 * “Objectum Sexual” is defined on GOOGLE as erotic
love towards an object of any sort.
2 N. B. This poem is purely fiction
There aren't enough words in the world to write about the day your bright, sky blue eyes stole my heart. You're the only one who has stayed and been patient enough to pick my aching soul apart.
I miss the way your strong arms wrapped around my little waist and when you'd kiss me; your lips, they'd always leave the sweetest taste.
I long for the day when I once again have your body right next to mine and to hear your calming voice telling me everything will be fine.
I can't wait for the day when you are able to scoop me off of the floor and when next I get to experience all of you once more.
I regret each and every one of our fights, especially the ones that kept us up every hour of some nights.
I regret not holding you closer, and each time I failed to think of our future.
I am sorry for every time I cut you off when you were mid-phrase, because I long for your fingerprints in the places my body can never erase.
My skin should shed all of its cells but your hands, they left these microscopic indentations so now my body craves you as well.
Winter came early that year
Between colours of the rainbow
snowflakes maneuvered
floated up
whirled down
Frigid winds chilled our smiles
as drifts line the pathway
of fresh footprints
indentations
two by two
You asked me for some warmth
I offered you my mittens
Because my hands
were needed
for snowballs
That is when you began giggling
then kissed me shivering
I closed my eyes
Forgetting
The cold
On your hair snowflakes played
hide and seek, behind us
the undergrowth
surprisingly
split and
Whap, you hit me with a snow ball
when I wasn’t looking
I reached down
with my hand
and scooped
You up, and while holding you tightly
fell in the snow backwards...
Two smiling, overheated
frantically flailing
snow angels
***
October 15, 2017
Copyright © Chris Green and Darren White
Head or tails is that your good side or the bad
shiny, worn, new, old, smart, stupid societal
cash register?
We all get piled up.
Your denomination tells your class: two cents or fifty
indentations of personality ealge, flag, ego or in
God do you trust?
Fold a twenty the right way
Now do you believe in hell?
No. I know your type: the fake quarter the boy
scored, poor and bored at the railroad tracks
bashed, smashed, beaten, used.
We all get piled up.
God only collects the shiny coins.
The night air,
waters (somewhere) burble.
A deer in the dark
hoof-crunches
yesterday’s now 12 degree snow.
A mouse moves. In sudden urgency.
Unseen all.
Unnoticed, none.
The moon is lost in wane,
in fog, in the coldest hour.
I balance a bundle of barky splits
in the fold of my arm. Indentations.
Scratches.
The stove awaits. The kettle, too.
Nearly midnight.
Poetry soon. Beneath the maple
silhouetted only by my memory of
the corner of Sky shared in
differing times by first the sun
and then the moon or first the moon
and then the sun.
Taiwanese whole-leaf, tightly bound.
Soon to unfurl in the new heat.
Some rinds to plop in, too.
The necessaries will wait,
tonight.
The tea, the fire, the words
won’t wait,
tonight.
They are the Actual Necessary.
I come to them in dark.
To drink of their light.
They call to me in dark.
To offer me their light.
Luscious is an excellent word to describe female bodies
Such curves such indentations, they're my favorite hobby
Gonna start a collection
Keep em in a special section
Behind my baseball cards in my closet beside my potty
Self analysis
& motive
imultiple functions
erupt
tradition
chiselled
in reality
distorted
by self perception
folds of skin
furrowed brows
surround
the anatomy of eyes
indentations &
peculiarities
crystallised forever
by self-awareness
in the existential
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand |
A most remarkable parish spire! and, widely acknowledged as
Just such...constantly commented upon being seen for the
Very first time.
Pressed into the church's soft sandstone walls, the shallow
Indentations from ball and shot left over from when the
Roundheads had came this way;
The Royalists did determine to fight to the last man...
Or so it was, reportedly, thus contendend.
The sky above as hollow as a cathedral's resounding dome; and
Possessing a sort of wild, uncharted immensity...
And not a bird singing...not a single bird in flight.
A strangely discomforting sunshine began to gently filter
Through the moitionless leaves on the already limp branches
Of the pale trees;
Spots of sunlight dappling the pavements and roadway,
Lying patiently underneath, with a hesitancy akin to
Reluctant rain.
Pausing in Sainsbury's carpark, I half turned:-
The slow, dulled, monotonous clanging of the grieving bell
As it relentlessly mourned the passing of it's beloved Queen.
People moving about me with measured deliberation as if on
Stage acting a part in a Victorian Drawing-room play.
Cars and vans drove more slowly...perhaps they were compelled
To do so by sudden divine intervention? ...or an inexplicable
Sense of spiritual duty?
Some great, unseen, all-powerful white God who had visted
Each of them in their dreams and threatened one and all with
Terrible retribution...and quite rightly so to my way of
Thinking.
And still the sobbing bell tolled...for it was determined to
Command this sombre day.
Listen closely she said while the hallucinations came again
My ears bleed in an audible silence that's to come
The beating heart sits strong to prosper while I go down the drain
Sounds of my elated innards while my chest goes numb
Centipedes surround the walls with a tall man of vomit to the left
A shroud of insecurity - the anxiety has arrived home
The sounds repeating in my head, mother get me dressed
Wet lips and ten-thousand legs sit above me on a throne
Take precaution through a land of reprobation to take a walk outside
Slumber sits beside, auditory indentations subside
A poor man dies with a gash in his torso but he tried
Wash my hands in a pool of oil and eat a sandwich with a friend
Cold morning tea someone needs a refill
Arguments with another part of society the cancer needs a lifetime to apprehend
Find me here
Within graphite words
breathe me deeply
until the lines are blurred
let my smoke fill your lungs
I desperately want to be felt and heard
Ash rises from my bones
from my mind to your heart transferred
my thoughts are paper thin
Yet they levitate upon my imperfections
Two three and four dimensions
The things I can't scream
without fear here I mention
Maybe it's all a cry for attention
is it really me these absurd expressions
I lay it out for the world
Find the holes in my communication
plug in your extension
Maybe the light from your lamp
will illuminate my apprehension
My record silently skips
a soundless sensation
The needle gouges deep
with its intimate groove penetrations
Is this any indication
of my faltering perceptions
or do I have frayed wires
stripped by my preoccupation
So here now and from yesterday
I form words into weird collections
maybe you can find me here
amidst my verbose fascination
I'm here somewhere
in all of these indentations!