Best Indented Poems
It was many years ago that I used to dream
that with a small run, I could lift myself
up off the ground,
and I could fly!
I loved those dreams in which I soared above my town,
for the sensation of them was unmatched
by anything in mere reality.
With time, I noticed my flying dreams had vanished.
Oh, glorious drifting through sky -
where fled my youth? Where fled those dreams?
Last night I dreamed
I flew again!
Feb. 27, 2021
for Emile Pinet's Fragmented Verse
(It's really true. At last I had another flying dream!)
Invented by Constance La France, verse only no rhyme. Left align
12 lines, broken down into 4 stanzas, includes indentation on some lines
Indented lines are- line 3- 26 spaces/line 4- 28 spaces/ line 9 &10 -8 spaces/ 11&12- 26spaces/28spaces. Line 9 and 10 - form a question ?
Syllables- 12/10/4/4 12/10/10/12 8/8 4/4
Indented by harsh waves
Injured by cold sharp rocks
Inflicted by failures
Irate at injustice
I come to you naked
Indolent, extinguished
Illuminate me Lord
Written on:02/27/2016
Like a nest on a little church
indented in the rocks.
The sky is low.
The twitch
of the air flower-beds –
the passing angels.
And voices like gushing
streams; rivers before the sea.
The day is silent.
The body is growing up –
some birds are thronging.
Stirs gently the breeze of late
summer's grace
Endowing fall its trails ,and all is fair
Pine trees quiver in cool mists which
embrace
The last of September... winds'
final flare:
Each ornament from nature's afterglow
Mesmerizes these eyes through
golden tones,
Bearing harvest moon's radiance its
flow
Enticed by interludes of heated
moans.
Rainfall melts summer into silver- blue
Forever a cycle of rosy sands...
Always my year's flamed passion,
always true
Livening romance, flings, their endless
strands.
Let September drift far onto the west
Still my heart whispers, I am wholly
blest!
* done on cellphone; some lines indented
It is an old dream, brown, crumbling at edges,
best that I leave this old dream undisturbed -
I am the dream,
it whispers soft.
I wrestle with the covers pushing it away,
but the ghosts of the past still come drifting;
they come like a silent crowd in the night,
so many come to haunt me, maybe forever.
Do other people have these too,
these frequent nighttime ghost whispers?
I am the dream,
of your regrets.
__________________________
May 27, 2018
Poetry/Verse/I am the Dream
Copyright Protected, ID 18- 1026-473-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
My invention - Fragmented Verse
12 lines, 4 verses, includes indention on some lines
Indented lines 26/28 8/8 26/28
Line 9 and 10 - a question ?
Syllables- 12/10/4/4 12/10/10/12 8/8 4/4
The Sun rises...
I know the supposed science
of light,
bips and wavy lines of
pulsed propagation
like a heart
like emotions~
how human feelings start
and stop, the forward/backward of time --
the morning news
our repeated proclamations
stagnation and regressive
signatures, announced and printed
shouted over electronic airways
man’s modern-day gazettes
dawn’s transparent lush
on my face,
I admire and study –
the brushwork of gleams~
patterns of my traveled summits
and depressions indented
zebra primrose blossoming, in short
what love created such marvelous
striations? Say ye a God~ surely even
the moron
in glaring absence of other proof
would not guess less?
Him/Her? Our Blessed Hermaphrodite
of sentient-being creating, of morphing-realms
unending evolving
salacious advances of life mating,
entangling, imparting fond mysteries --
lips of roses unfurling, curling, inviting
nearer breaths for uninhibited exploration –
such exposure awakens and sleeps
yet we sense beyond-maturity
delve the wizard behind the curtain
all us Dorothys
trying to find a true way home
imaginable, at least a steady firmament though we
slip precipitously – My thought, to dust, clean and change
the sheets, as a new warmth attempts to re-freshen
recover nature’s veiled cycles our nightly often deeply
staining retreats
Flourished and nourished,
hair locks resembling branches,
I gaze as it dances —
when blowing, he looks glowing.
Twenty years had passed,
but still, I last.
I may have ripened,
but I'm still the same berry, same fruit,
slightly fragmented, a little indented,
not demented.
You got a sample of me when I was at my prime,
taught a few tricks — oh, to replay our time.
Let me discover what you have learned;
still, I yearn —
like the eternal flame, I burn.
Do not read me as if I come with the label “handle with care,”
I am more than able.
Only sixty-five, still alive!
Round-bodied, the taste of sweet and sour —
come and devour during lunch hour.
Do not guzzle — sip slow,
take the time to enjoy this aged wine as we intertwine.
Oh, how you've practiced —
glad to discover upon this mattress.
Over the hillsides, together we burned space and time
Galloping with the wind...
Clouds took me by the hand,
Wind took you by the mane
Nothing outside our world could rival this perfect blend
Of motion, devotion, the sunshine and scented rain
I would close my eyes, and trust in the rhythm's rise
O' beautiful creature, your movements touched the very sky
Every stride, would sweep me to another world
Unfurled so far from all my childhood fears
As runaway dreamers,
we sprinted into the future of timeless memory
and heard the infinite past at the heels of your enchanted hoof
Where ancestors once felt this very connection
At one with nature, a blending of what is blessed
In the deep evening light of the first early, wintery chill,
as a comet that shoots through the eye of an in-coming storm
We were crystals, encased in a layer of ice and love
Just a trace of a moon, that sailed between the soft, leaden clouds
In the thrill of the cold, with the glorious snowflakes falling,
and the sight of your warm breath streaming,
there was white drifting smoke, in caress of the moonlight beaming
Indented, undefined, is a trail left behind
Such a moment is proof.... in all legends divine
That when snow falls around the hills, at the end of the day,
Nothing can erase that we passed this way
We were the messengers...that rode with the wind
That the hearts of species as wide as the universe
With spirits connecting two souls as one
Hearts can beat as one....drawn together, like poetic and timeless music
I am part of you....and you are part of me
And that both hearts can feel the same remorse when day is done
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In memory of "Queenie".... an amazing Sorrel Quarterhorse,
For the Contest: "PETS", sponsored by Shadow Hamilton 11/13/14
A FULANI GIRL’S COMPLAINT
I carried water. I did all the house cores. I drove and bred the cattle one and alone, singing songs, running and climbing mountains. I milked, sold milk and bought you silk. I ground the corn and cooked your meals. I woke up on the peak of the seasons and carried duties; I did all these to be given to a wild hard-looking stranger like a cowry!
I spent my whole youth among trees and beasts in eloquent silence away from siblings, aloof! I learned and loved God through things that spoke to me, indented, with neither paper nor pen. I wore a strange hat and a stiff piece of cloth that fell on my knees revealing my bony legs; I had strings knotted around my waists and wrists and neck to be betrothed to a wild hard-looking stranger who swept me as if I were a cow for sale, reaped my inward garment and damned my virtue! His words are swords; his horn is a worm that eats in me, wholly!
Oh, Aunt! You fastened my tongue and sold me like Dauda’s slave who would quit me by day leaving me starved, empty bottles and pockets in Gbaya’s tins. Aunt, don’t care the whips, the solitude, the empty stomach, the hands that hurt like electrical cords, but, my aunt, his words are worse than swords and I miss my olden days, the twilight, the humanly beasts I forsook for the beastly human, mother’s looks that hook the heart, oh, I miss my old self!
Galim (Tignère), April 22, 2012
Jaafar Sadig El Waad
I can visualize you on your side, sleeping
Gently, I lift the hair from your shoulders
To expose the nape of your neck
It whispers, quietly sings a sensual song
My lips gently touching your skin, we dance
My tongue ventures into the valley
The nape of your neck, indented, erotic
Eyes fixed, I see your body respond
Your skin tone reveals red, passion
You gasp, quitely your body reacts
No words are spoken, yet you speak loudly
I can smell, I can taste the desire
The nape of your neck, calls my name
~Rick Berry
Passed the old church at midnight
Night time dark, damp and windy
Thoughts about coming home to a warm bed
Hear sounds from the bushes and trees
Glimpsing human shadows
They move slowly and very quiet
The wind comes against me with a rotten smell
The smell is indescribable nauseating
The lights of a car further down the street
gives me a cruel picture
Three human figures indented and rotting faces
Apathetic and dull but driven by the will to kill
The car is advancing by my side, the driver he knows he's seen it before
Zombies love this place at midnight
Never go here alone on the night of Halloween
Who has not heard of it ....
I can still smell the rotten smell
Sponsor Leonora Galinta
Contest Name Halloween Poem Contest with Only 1 theme.
15.10.2013
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(2nd place in the contest)
When I pick up Sweet Williams
And inhale their spiced perfume,
I see them on the windowsill
Of our tiny old back room.
Their sweet indented petals,
Coloured every shade of pink,
Glowed so bright in that urban gloom
They almost made me blink.
They’d grown on Dad’s allotment –
An expanse of air and sun –
Along with fruits and vegetables
He brought home for my Mum.
Sweet Williams bring it home to me
I’m still the child I used to be.
Broken tears is where it all begins, the love has lifted for now a mist in the air. Tears fall upon and evaporate into love fog. Yours eyes became cold lacking compassion, unresponsive with those shallow stares.
Stranger in your heart never knew the love we shared shall ever fall apart. Never would have I thought I would be an absence of your heart. To take a journey into your scorned mind, and really see how your feeling inside.
Your eyes tells me a story of all your lost, even all of your lies. Your soul has begun to die.
Yours cry suffer to inflict pain and torture. Tears began to burn and endure to enflame your pillows at night, intense dislike.
No one is there to kiss, and hold tight behold your over night burial site.
Leaveing you in a slumber your heart is slaughtered, savagely murdered.
Yearning to once again become a slave, owned by another.
Laughter is what you miss, going through withdraw from my kiss.
Watching me from doorways is harder to resists.
Remember me? It's the stranger you set a side, but now miss.
Broken bliss pitiful, pathetic promises. Petty pleasures emptiness whispers, words that leaves blisters. Cutting deeper than any scissors.
Tears over flowing deeper than any river. Symbolism repesentation of broken mirrors.
Termination limits of love, I perish from existence.
French kisses of death, hollow sunken indented last breath.
Losing your voice likely to result in defeat, as you couldn't began to speak.
Grief over becomes you difficulty, grasping for a glimpse of me.
Shattered love we mastered, you discover no longer your partner.
Forever thee foreigner you disclaimer...
So therefore you became...
The Stranger.
In the darkening sky, there's a depth one can feel
My breath forms a cloud in the late evening chill
My eyes search for the sign of an in-coming storm
Small crystals of ice are embraced by the hills
And have raced to the valley, to my own window sill
Encased in a cocoon of my grandmother's quilt
I step off of the porch, and sit down on the stoop
I am warm while the night is so quietly still
Just a small trace of gold tints the soft, leaden clouds
There is neither a moon, nor a star to be found
In the thrill of the cold, there are glorious flakes
Of silver lace petals that fall on my face.
Indented, undefined are the trails we may find
When the snow falls around me, at the end of the day
Erasing the tension that may pass my way
Such a moment is proof, that some things are divine
Designed just to soften the trials of our lives
____________________________________________________________
11/17/15 For Contest Sponsored By Shadow Hamilton "Snow"
Part Two
From that moment onwards
Not when the fingerless muscles unclasped
the indented bones
But from that moment of knowing
from that very moment of sustenance
That day of human unbelief died unsung
And the depth of human grief buried long
bestirred a momentous song
It willed within me it were man
Some kindly soul no less
But in surfeit laid aside
The biscuits of distaste
It willed within me it were some organisation
Hurrying to the bed of despair
With the spare crumbs of conversion
The Holy Infant to succour
I willed then it were a friend
From want of excuse to teach
His fooling heart to bleat
Robbed his conscience of a treat
I willed and willed and never
In my thankless memory
Sat the image of my enemy
The fulcrum of my singular division
And when that day I delved into my depths
To find the words of irreproachable thanks
I saw you turn and stamp the light
Of my begging steps of penance
I turned, rebuffed
Should I have turned and gone
Away from the stony snarl of thanklessness
Away from all that I saw in that
One inseparable act
Away from my insurrection
From the illimitable doubt of humility
Far away from all the coquetry of cunning
No man was divided more
Between himself and self
Between life and cherished death
Astride on the unwelcome threshold of emptiness
Had I come out of dying
And yet the chained stick of fate
Was certain to unravel for me
No less, no more, the vicious sting of hate
And revived with urgency's gratitude
Twice over, reconditely, I was blessed
(Continued in Part Three)