Best Inscribes Poems
Ascending above sanctum of horizon, a dawn inflames the effulgent rays,
Enlightening daybreak as embers of light set the scarlet morning ablaze
Projecting golden beams on hushed venues, in beatific style, not seen in a while,
Glittering on grass in vivid dewdrops, glinting ornamental autumnal smile.
Riding the path of shortened days, marigold passions eloquently evoke
Enchanting colors of resplendent meadows--sensuous vibes tenderly stoke
When traversing upon a vibrant blue-arc, solar-noon invokes seasons warm
Where cumulus clouds stroll the meridian, amid nary a sign of rainy storm.
Seeking affinity of ruby dusk, a spectrum inscribes on gilded evening skies
Iridescent emotions in colors of romance, pleasing desires of amorous eyes
As falling leaves waltz, in leisurely dance, attuned to song of sunset breeze
Descending slowly with vanishing sun, in forlorn shudders of barren trees.
October 28, 2019
Poem of the day on October 30, 2019
Placed 3rd: Strand special 2 by Brian Strand
The meticulous melody of my musings is she.
Quietly my quill inscribes intrinsic ink upon the paths she walks.
Profoundly postulated in poems I've portrayed her in -
she's inspired ingenious imagery of beaucoup beauty.
I ponder without her what my life would be like?
With determiners of this, that, these and those, she is the
one who guides like an orchestra of street lights at night.
In times of silence I wonder what she is thinking of
when gazing at blue horizons that appear cloudless,
as her exotic eyes always crave for calming climes.
There is no measure in the pleasure of her treasure and
her artistry on a blank canvas turns stanzas radiantly starry,
so I croon a tune hoping to be the moon under her serene skies.
Yet not all lullabies of lovers can ease a melancholic mind and
sometimes it's difficult to write lyrics making sense of it all.
Not all verses compliment strings with an instrumental that's
an emotionally unbalanced mix of tones not seen as the best
remedy in episodes of rage - so I wonder what becomes of
tranquillity when her tempest temper turns her thoughts dark.
I regret those forgotten promises lost in broken symphonies and
until sanity soothes with words of softness, I'll hold onto all that is bright.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Lord Byron – She Walks in Beauty
~the Fear of Never~ A DRINK TO REMEMBER!
And the fire catches every time, my heart needs a sip
I bear no shame pouring, poisoned pabulum whisky down
Lost in a place with hungry whores, ink paying gigolos
This night a respected gentleman put's on his evening gown
He sits in front of a mic playing the same old sad song
Fitted out in drag, his wife has no clue
Holy breeders trying to change my shoes
Lingering from the Cute Chinaman, running his tab sky high
Bluebirds of jealousy, set round the vintage Barstool like fools
Minds overpowered and threaten to the very nub
I am drunk-- in his eye,
He receives a macabre confession of possessiveness
I am drunk-- in her eye,
She has a sick confession of subconsciousness
Broken loose from a negative, regressive state of mind
Sit and enjoy this broken bottle of champagne
Unspoken rage in every empty can left behind
A shot glass drops from my unstable hands longing to hold a pen
I look into a mirror and embrace every meaning of stability
Blotting out the madness behind a metal cage of reality
At times, I feel the need to bring down this masquerade
A drink so hostile, I can't even remember my image and name
Too many scars, from the foster of paper and pen
My dependents are drunken demons from a traumatized childhood
Tonight I will legislate a special thanks
Holding up my cup, until death finds my note
I will smile, at every Judge and Jury, during karaoke night
Shutting down my eyes, fantasizing everything's gonna be alright
I will not jilt knowing, writers block haunted my days away
Insecure hoarding monsters enjoying spoil forgotten words
Tonight I thirst like never before, my tongue inscribes around a tin cup
I am not eating up by it, no matter how long I've drowned in it
This is my kind of whisky, my thoughts, my days of ammo
To tell you the truth, I possess no desire to drink
It's all about the love of poetry and how sober, I become (WITHOUT)
The monsters that reside inside, have one thing to say
"Give me Poetry, or give me Death!"
by: PD
And say unto Tyrus, O thou that art
situate at the entry of the sea, which
art a merchant of the people for many
isles, Thus saith the Lord GOD; O Tyrus,
thou hast said, I am of perfect beauty
— Ezek. 27:3
Libertas,
she who is of perfect beauty
Roman goddess,
situated at the entry of the sea
You hold a torch
that burns a cold flame
From the South Pole to the North,
everyone on Earth knows your name
America,
America
She reincarnated your ancient fame
America,
America
Her prideful beauty became her shame
Libertas,
the fame of your beauty everyone wanted to see
In the presence of a goddess,
all people from every nation worldwide wanted to be
You hold the dovetail tablet
that inscribes the progress of liberty
From the North Pole to the South,
they flock to the land that stands in the midst of the seas
All hoping to reach your shores, dreaming to be free
America,
America
You now reject those who seek haven within your buxom border
America,
America
The Holy Scriptures thus declare: Set your divided house in order
Libertas,
graven goddess greeting poor souls
seeking the bond of assimilation with one another
America,
merchant queen selling plastic rainbows,
you look just like Tyrus, your ancient twin brother
Your picture perfect beauty
is rapidly fading away
You always took pride in your nudity,
now an ugly portrait resembling an aging Dorian Gray
YES !
Written in my palms
Within the plasma tempest of my cellular flow
Courses in the pulmonary oxygen
The direction linear fate
Souls writing indicates
Always through pass of time
Reverberates
My breathing in
Links my hands
Physical over mental
Pours consistent
Suffused empire shudders
Tangible still earthquakes
On a single point
Of longing
Yearning
It filters me
Through the hours
Designs my wishes
Sleeping naked
In a diaphragms rising
Lake of want
Each morning in helpless moans
At this state
The continent
The ocean
Of my empty arms
Emptying this need in me
Fills me more
Than any love
I have ever
Known
Re-born
I hanker in swelling desire
Even lust exhales
Its animal fire
And swims in the sails
Expressive
Storm wracked and howling
As I sit motionless
In this envelope
Of aching final
Suspended
In what it means
To be
To me
Completely
Powered by an undeniable
The force surge
Inscribes
Etches
Ensnares
And capitulates
To recognition
Without resistance
Builds a formulation of my destiny
Written in my palms
Within the plasma tempest
Of my cellular flow
The thunderclap
Resounds from above
YES !
I am in love
( And I weep
And I laugh
Each morning in helpless moans
At this state
The continent
The ocean
Of my empty arms )
WINDOW ON THE WORLD
My mind born free, like the autumn wind
it blows gently across the flushing meadow,
touching the petals of the flowers it finds
with expressive love in its whisper mellow.
Butterflies bring the tune of adoring whisper
to my heart vibrant in crescendo of emotion.
Rhythm of words inscribes it in rhyme on paper,
it becomes a poem, heart’s craving creation.
That’s when I’d open up like the dawn sky
where if as clumps of cloud you fly free
you’d then know me, discern what am I,
in the colors of my horizon you’d find me.
The hues of love would drape my poetry,
a window on the world it’d open for you.
An imagery of times and people you’d see,
the beauty of life it’d bring in your view.
September 20, 2018.
(Note : Response to the Sponsor's questions :
Stanzas 1 and 2 : Why write and share your writings?
Stanza 3 : Why would your self-expression matter to others?
Stanza 4 : Does the world need more poetry?)
She left me enlightened
With her “Heart’s Imagination”
Taught me about love
In the ink of “Melting Point”
She gave me a whisper of insight
Within the breath of “O April”
And sang to my soul and spirit
On the wings of “Germination”
She colored my heart in hues
Of lavender with her psalms
Who spoke to me of hope and love
Joy birthed in “My Iridescent Garden”
She illuminated my soul’s faith
With “Soulful Journey of Shooting Stars”
And breathed pain into my nostrils
On the tone of “Heartbreak Hill”
She graced my thoughts with light
When she penned “The Virtue of Motion and Life”
I felt the waves of her pensiveness
In the words of “Mirror of a Son’s Eyes”
She left my heart in bright adoration
With “Rebirth of the Third Angel”
And encouraged me to listen to silence
On the reflections of “Wire Walker”
She delights, enlightens, flavors my thoughts
In amber, scarlet, sapphire and emerald
All the colors of inspiration and sensitivity
Inviting me to listen to the hopes within me
She inscribes a bit of enchantment through me
With her vivid portrayals of imaginations
So loving and graceful, like psalms that grant me
A light to guide – a hope to ignite my faith
She is a writer who has left me with appreciation
For the empty pages that draw her in
And bring me such beauty, light and laughter
Love that points me to a heart that is perceptive
A woman of grace and beauty and wonder
Polishes her poems with flavors of amazement
Inspirations so thrilling, so revealing, they take me
Through the poem into places I’ve only dreamed of
Her poetry holds a trace of stardust, a flame
Of expectation, a promise of illumination
Fulfillment and pleasure, satisfaction with words
That brightens lives and leaves elegance wherever it flows
In her poetry… there is hope for words!
Title Wave Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
May 19, 2021
For a wonderful poetess, Susan Ashley
Titles of Susan’s Poems are in BOLD
Her sojourn in the wild
Her sojourn in the wild
Packed in her reverie
Doting the scent of love
Muffled up with old melodies and
Few muffins to eat
Those hushed leaves made most hissing
If ever one's heart could hear it
The breeze witnessed her traces
The dampen soil inscribes
She won't come home
The river floats, carrying me
away from nights, out to the sky,
where leaves are tossed, as whispers grow…
retracing hours, when memoirs beckon.
And sparrows fling above me now
my breathing grace enshrined in stone…
among the lanes and endless roads
this calling mild, so warmly dear.
I touch the flame of quiet stars ,
and long for all that's safe and warm
from what I know is mine to keep;
with four seasons bringing me home
to drift, drift on with every heave…
O knowing not when time will end
upon my faith my thoughts relieved…
the drink of music, a love complete
Graceful the crest of my new land,
unto its bed , new morns will speak
about all my wild and gentle dreams…
till the moon inscribes my name, while
all but a soul is laid to rest.
Any Poem written in August
NOT for a contest
Sponsor:Broken Wings
8/30/2015
In time arrow’s one way course the winds of change blow,
wafting from the fading end to an unknown another new,
the thrust of transformation they get from the power
the spurt of history gives that goes on increasing ever.
The direction toward the world order received from
the compass of current events can’t ever be altered,
the intent it inscribes on the social landscape page,
the crafty world leaders design, is difficult to change.
Mankind strives to shed the unwanted old grimes,
like the autumn dry leaves the wind sweeps away,
bury under the sand layers of senile forgotten time,
but they rise in new forms in authoritarian regimes.
Indomitable spirit emerges from the debris of history,
new generations of belief and value emanate strong,
like escalating momentum of human rights paradigm
that’ll succeed if ever it can defy the vested interests.
,
The time arrow strikes hard with manipulated wrath,
transforms fast and invariably the vulnerable core
of the traditional society proud of integrity and unity,
imperceptibly into one of intolerance and hostility.
The conventional concept of herd living in free world
changes to isolationism with disintegrated families,
evolving into self-destructive fragile breed, collapsing
under psychic stress of changing times of uncertainty.
If the maneuvered course of post-cold war geopolitics
demolishes the critical balance of power and authority,
weaker nations will turn into mute and powerless pawns
in the game of chess, its rule devised by new world order.
___________________
April 20, 2022
Contest : New World Order
Sponsored by : Robert James Liguori
WHEN I STRUGGLE TO WRITE
I sat down to write a poem one day,
But try as I did, no words came my way,
I thought and thought, but to no avail,
Used up my mind just to miserably fail,
Lost memories of pain came back in a flash,
But when I tried again, my memory had a crash,
Exhausted after sometime, I gave up the fight,
Closed my eyes and prayed, "Lord, help me to write."
God opened my eyes and I switched off my mind,
In His world, in His Word, what treasures I could find!
So many things to dig into, what would I choose?
As I let God guide me, my cares I began to lose,
His ink flows through me, I'm just His humble pen,
When God inscribes His words, it's never a burden,
Looking down at the page where I had thought to write,
I saw that it was filled with words beyond my might,
That day, I had only wanted to write a poem,
But God in His grace, showed me how unworthy I am,
Without God in my heart, I couldn't even think,
But now He helps me to write and I spill ink...
-----------------------------
29th March, 2016
For my love is now
Every moment counts
As we take our vow
Cupids on their mounts
Kisses will endow...
Love eternal
Orchestral vibes
Spice nocturnal
Desire inscribes...
Love is held
In our hearts
Unexcelled,
You are
My love,
Now!
May.10.2020
Diminished Hexaverse
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
Placed 15'th...Thank You
On this darling day, some sixty two years ago was born
a golden girl with glory, glee & glow; christened Dane-
Ann, a nice & noble name... I know, garnished with
grace and great gifts as she gently grow. Now a
woman, so wise, worthy & wonderful, a christain so
committed, calm, colorful & careful, a mother so
meek, mild, mindful & merciful, and a grandma so
great, glorious, glamourous & graceful. She' blessed
with beauty, brawns, bliss & brains. Her green garden is
garnished with golden gains, She's simple, selfless &
sincere...no stains; she's passionate, patriotic &
pleasant...no pains. A poetess with a passionate pen,
painting on pleasant pages who's indellible ink
inscribes immortal images; her solemn, sweet songs...
soothe saintly sages, weilding wealthy words...weightier
than wages. HappyBIRTHDAY to you Dane. Many happy
returns of the day, Lon life & prosperity! Hip, Hip, Hip:-
) Hurray!! To my great mentor Dane-Ann Smith
Johnsen on her 62 nd Birthday!
Its way pass midnight
And the full moon comes out to play
The wolves roar echoes across this lonely town
The music’s died down along time now,
There’s a chill creeping up my spine
Eerie paints this town with such macabre colors
The falling snow, does nothing to dampen their glare.
My endless scuffling in the virgin snow,
Each step inscribes my sin across the pristine landscape
The world went black, the colors all but seeped away
Got stuck in the dark , with the light switched on
Trapped within a swirling blizzard , a surreal dimension of reality
These manacles, linked together by some strong dark force
Dementia’s hold on my hand’s so cold, yet so comforting
I can’t stand on my on two feet no more
‘Cause sanity keeps evading my grasp
Insanity comes so easily always lending a hand to my mind
My only crutch when the darkness comes out to play
My fates sealed. There’s now recompense for my sins
Retributions hunting my soul, I can hear his howl in the distance
My 3yesights failing me. The light at the end of the tunnels dimming
He’s on my tail got him breathing down my neck, my spines crippled by the chill
My feet’s looking for some solace in the chase
No apothecary insight to still my racing heart.
I find my self at the edge of my life, he’s got me cornered
My back pressed up against the air
The gleam in his eyes crushed the last ounce of fear I had within
I took the plunge.
Fell into the arms of mercy
And….
Woke up.
A written word wistfully wrought into a compendium grim,
Of the darkling ravens beset upon the plutonian shores,
Hither did your shapeless muse invade our psyche and vapid minds dim,
Edgar has retired his effete quill yet still
it inscribes beyond our slumbering doors,
Into the ebony emptiness of a nebulous
night,
Stranger the stars wheeling acrid the sky keening past the silver gate,
The grip of Hypnos tugs upon the astral cord of Dantean flight,
Around Innsmouth conticent shadows arise unbound by the dreamer's fate,
Missdeeming angles converge the zenith disguised,
The hounds approach Tindalos has awoke from his hypnic repose,
Descending down to the fathomless depths within R'lyeh's halls Cthulhu prepares
for his imminent supernal rise,
H.P. you dared to dwell upon the periphery of folie your mantle taken up by future
librettist anew to compose,
Mr. King, Mr. King your words, sui generis, liberated this vestigial mind,
Carrie the queen, Cujo, how does your coat gleam Neath an insomniac's sky,
Silence plays in the streets of Lot just
around the bend Christine's cherry shine,
Tommyknockers knock after a Stand is taken, dusty boots bestride upon a pathless
road naught is heard but a lone gunslinger's sigh.
A Mist departed for a raven flurrying to Lenore,
It dropped Poe's Palladian laurels before
H.P.'s forlorn feet,
Visions of the Crimson King preparing his
generous gift, a Colour from space not seen before,
A Delphic legacy handed to a youthful King entranced by a sulphuric smile and a
clown's gentle wile the circus awaits all below Derry's cozy streets