Best Interlacing Poems
Once agone moments in time
she was poetry in motion,
'til she pirouetted herself
onto dusty versed shelves
midst old clouded rhymes
& recollected love notes
yet, there lingered echoes
glistening 'tween strands
of web's interlacing design,
meshing her finessed
past within gossamer's
complexed entanglements
beyond labyrinths of
anciently grand symphonies
she dances, still ~
silently in her head
flirting with destiny
albeit, not quite as opulently
Categories:
interlacing, age, dance, destiny, memory,
Form:
Imagism
On a cold, stormy October night,
In the hours of lingering twilight.
Beneath the haunting full moon,
Brought a white ghostly goon,
Screaming fears of an ancient rune.
The wind driven underneath eaves,
Interlacing through trees and leaves,
Scratching on the window-glass,
With intense bitterness as shadows pass.
Slumber and dreams haunted by the crass,
Slow, flowing sand in the hourglass.
Tap, tap, tap we hear at the door.
In terror, open the door. There, four
Puddles of water left on the floor.
Darkness peering in beneath
The fog, the dog, a bone between its teeth.
10/13/2022
12-16 Lines Of A Scary Halloween Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Categories:
interlacing, horror,
Form:
Rhyme
grand garden at Giverny
are gems gorgeously
nestling near a warm abode
where golden path lies beneath
in thick impasto and rugged strokes
transforming terrestrial moment
into amaranthine beatitude
baggy brush movement
of varied greens~
transposing from soft geneva
to gecko and genoa
interlacing with periwinkle petals
blended with amethyst and magenta
unfurling paradisaical artist's milieu
teeming trees reflect
dappled sunshine
in exuberant flora
resembling your eyes
exuding ethereal joy~
every time you look at me
30 April 2021
For "All Yours (April 30) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
1st place
Notes:The Artist's Garden at Giverny (French:Le Jardin de l'artiste à Giverny) is an oil on canvas painting by Claude Monet done in 1900 now the Musée d'Orsay, Paris.
It is one of many works by the artist of his garden at Giverny over the last thirty years of his life. ( Photo and info credits to Wikipedia)
Categories:
interlacing, appreciation, art,
Form:
Ekphrasis
My mind is racing.
My dreams are defacing.
Everyday is the same,
Every night is a shame.
I need to continue bracing.
My nightmares and fears are interlacing.
My heart needs a gracing.
No one can take blame,
My heart is the only one guilty.
I need a sad songs embracing,
Or an artist’s tracing.
I need something soothing for me to be tame,
Except nothing can take me away from my grame.
Nothing in this world has been the cause of my souls aching.
My heart is the only one guilty.
Categories:
interlacing, depression, heartbreak, heartbroken, poetry,
Form:
Rondeau
Two candles burning down to wax -that’s how
I felt that one hot summer long ago -
a summer I remember even now
with images I never can let go.
Beside the ocean in the sun we lay,
flirtatiously, toes touching in the sand!
Into the waves we jumped like kids at play,
but how I simmered when you took my hand
to stroke my palm. Interlacing fingers,
we watched the sun go down in the twilight.
Slow boil on days like those – passion lingers,
then builds to climax in the shadowed night.
In summer’s heat I learned the meaning of
new feelings as I melted into love.
June 6, 2020 for John Hamilton's Summer Heat Poetry Contest
Categories:
interlacing, romance, youth,
Form:
Sonnet
In the holy spot
with the sitting rock,
an oak. Out back
shagbark hickory
and maple.
Ants climb the rock.
August, birds
celebrate flowering
weeds, the seeds
of autumn to come.
I am here to name it
and know it and help it
to grow. These mountains
are my grave. A good grave
to go to.
The crows have been
in conference, again.
A jay, blue, pokes
a hole through reality.
I find sumacs fruiting
and the male sex organs
of the Queen Anne’s lace.
Juncos glean the lawn,
an occasional nuthatch
in the butternut.
I hear a pileated
woodpecker jackhammering
and my neighbor’s skill saw
chirring. Ants crawl
on connecting interlacing instructions.
Categories:
interlacing, august, autumn, flower, mountains,
Form:
Free verse
A Winter's Dawn
Along the way
To make of hills
Whose shadows fall
Amidst the mist,
and arbor limbs,
In valley's Low
Where there
In such a light
A willow grows
And as if an empty room
Had found music
It returned a new light
Endearing cords played out
By nature's hand
Interlacing the unexpected
To the unseen beauty of life
It was as it had always been
Through days that grew me
And now no leaves to it in spring
It bows as age bares down
But has left its music in me
A requiem of birth
Unmasked
In this early light
How the course of nature gives
Along the way
Gentle, unexpected gifts
A willow in the mist-
Categories:
interlacing, birth, blessing, death, growth,
Form:
Free verse
Darkness pervades mankind
I must cast my eyes away
Not to be blinded by the stench.......
Bound to chains of greed
Consumed thieves of power
Invasion of our young.......
A web of darkness
Pieces of vile arrogance
Interlacing a core of deceit......
Behold........
Thy Lord.......
Thy Light.......
The Brilliance of Truth........
The Glory of Love........
The Magnificence of Honor.......
~ The night is nearly over..The Day Is Almost Here..~
~So Then Let Us Cast off the works of darkness and Put On The Armor of Light~
Categories:
interlacing, birth, cancer, character, corruption,
Form:
Chant Royal
While waiting but not watching for the sun to set, perhaps the bullfrogs are creating the shadows with their croaks, my friend screams out because he has been bitten by a fly. He is not quiet enough so the flies obtain special pleasure from teasing him. Meanwhile bluebirds skirt the lake surface like the most perfectly designed fighter planes in twos or threes and argue rising up on their tails into the air. While insects prey upon and tease the bare flesh and blood of we humans, they fear the silent violence, the sudden huge presences of these family birds.
A larva with a leaf tip for a cocoon descends a white birch by a long thread. We free ourselves from our writings to observe phenomenon. Then thinking about dinner. The flight of J. Krishnamurti, the eagle guru says even artists (after physicists and mathematicians) may penetrate the unknown if not too absorbed in their own emotions and imaginations. We common people too who loving our wives can love everyone.
What eyesight the bluebirds have to swoop the lake from shore for a flying insect or descend from fifty feet on a thin straw grass and return to chew absent-mindedly! Just fun having song sung among men. As for the syntax, a daisy could swing it unthinking and coast. Along the beehive rocks ants crawl on connecting interlacing instructions. All around us and inside too as if stars were unseen but present it's true. So a man desires breakfast with his lady; could it be more amusing, material or smell?
As the eyesun descends below spun clouds, spirit or the eagle or the drum? Round. The dialectic obscure couldn't be more better said. So round and serious. To love everyone with clearer vision than a bluebird or a lake is to transcend the innocence of insect and take flight action and feed the babies of fate. Phew! Dinner outside the cocoon. I brought myself a student upon the hill or mountain and said to myself I said Obo rebop in summer sweater and what less overweight can carry test uphill so slow? Presently, reformed, informed by the bluebird's eagle spirit, clear cleanhead, I return coagulating mightily ideas the bites of insects ow! to breakfast home and everywhere unknown. Hearing bird with clear conscience echo make.
Categories:
interlacing, bird, desire, family, fear,
Form:
Verse
"Fly me high through the starry skies
Maybe to an astral plane
Cross the highways of fantasy
Help me to forget today's pain"- A stanza from Gary Wright's "Dream Weaver"
In dreams that drift as surely as the sand
along the banks of oceans in my mind,
he wanders in, and with his skillful hand,
adds shape and hue to scenes yet undefined.
I never know what feelings he’ll invoke,
what things I’ll touch or taste or hear or see.
He makes – with every interlacing stroke
of brilliant yarns – enthralling imagery!
He weaves me in with people or alone -
in states of bliss. . . at times in peril’s way!
Another twist . . . I wear a face unknown
or soar! The unexplained I can’t gainsay.
Awake, I little know of fancy’s flight,
for Weaver thrives in shadows of the night.
For Brian Strand's 'ALL YOURS (May 16)' Poetry Contest
May 2, 2021
For Line Gauthier's What's In A Title In 14-20 Lines Poetry Contest
Categories:
interlacing, dream,
Form:
Sonnet
I had to take the tram today—
It was full,
almost.
The only seat was beside this cute little thing.
She had on a jersey six sizes too large,
at least.
Then I saw why,
as the little guy underneath kept
squirming and stretching.
I really didn’t notice that small
silent but deadly which I obviously passed,
but she did.
Oh my God!!
I think she more looked it than said it.
It had hardly cleared her lips when
she closed her eyes, clamped her teeth and grimaced.
Once again composed,
almost.
Oh please, go.
Just go somewhere else and sit.
Lady, there is no where else.---
I don’t care, just M-O-V-E,
said between clinched teeth.
You have a problem.
No, lady, you have a problem.
What I have is—
gas.
Well, take your gas up on top.
I can hardly breathe and my baby
just really bit me hard, please,
just go to the back, go to the top,
I don’t care-- just go.
Lady, in case you haven’t looked lately
I can reach out and get hand fulls of snow
from the top of this tram.
It is colder out side than in your bedroom.
It’s cold.
The silent but deadly had suddenly wafted
back to the front of the bus as it made the
previous stop.
It was on me now and it was bad.
There were people every where with bleary eyes,
fanning their noses and moving their heads
from side to side, seeking any small relief.
I envied the wee one still inside the jersey,
nestled up against those two perpetual
food banks, keeping him warm, fed and cozy.
That was a cool idea and I had never seen it before.
Ok, lady, you win.
I’ll get off at the next stop.
But something just wasn’t right.
That was not a “silent but deadly” I smelled.
I mean, if there is one thing I know,
it’s my own gas and that was not mine.
She must have read my thoughts because she turned red.
Pulling the neck band up to her forehead,
I could see her ears turning purple,
as the bus slowed for the next stop.
Without saying a word she put her arms straight out
interlacing her fingers, checking those nails.
She moved her hands underneath junior for support,
moved slowly to the door and got off.
Ironically the smell went away.
© 18 Nov 2010 For Desiree's Epiphanies contest
Categories:
interlacing, peopleme, , cute,
Form:
Narrative
Murmer...sing...ring...ting!
The smell of freshly baked bread.
Moan...groan...hummm...trickle
Mum humming...child's giggle
Tear...whiz...whip..steak sizzling!
Brush...drip.drip..clang...rattle.
Creeaak..tappp..BANG!
A bottle popping..fizzing.. opening..
Thump..cough...waves crashing..
Water boiling...steam rising...
Bird singing....cricket chirping.
Traffic whirring...chopping..hammering.
Soft conversation. Band playing...
Kettle whistling...
Cars humming in the background...
Chirping, croaking , crowing..
Occaasional distant tapping..
Knife chopping gently on board.
Clinking of teaspoons and bone china.
Twang! Interlacing sounds woven.
Pitter-patter...rain drops,
Car approaching,dog whistle and bark!
Scratching..ascending...descending.
Strong smell of coffee wafting
Cool breeze gently blowing..
Train tooting!
Categories:
interlacing, children, life, nostalgia,
Form:
Blank verse
A spectrum of memories // etched in // directing
Synaptic obscenities // fetching regrets //
Count those dour mental entities // concepts like insects //
Innumerable enemies // wielding their sketches
Of interlacing, undulating, thoughts I’d never saught to see again
It’s raining, awful tortured claws of water dripping down my neck
Engaging like the famous horsemen four of the apocalypse
A brainwave tells me faught or flew is not an option, it’s past tense
And it’s passed any means of remedy - my enemy’s my friend
And it’s last orders on the corner where I’m standing with a ten
And if I bought at four I might, instead I waited ‘til seven
I test the borders and the corners of the realm of temptation
Daily thoughts of pickin’ up…
…When all the pieces come unstuck
And I thank that’s It’s a familiar pattern
I piece it back together, crumb by speck by dotted flame, refuelled lighters on the bristle of tobacco peering from its paper nesting, used now to light a subtle torch, the lightbulb in my head, a spotlight thats located a second answer -
And I thank that it’s a familiar pattern
As I know how to piece it back together.
Tomorrow, do the same thing again,
But tonight, a glass of water then bed
Dreaming of keeping the faith
Dreaming always
http://samnicholasharrison.tumblr.com/
Categories:
interlacing, addiction, conflict, dark, deep,
Form:
Narrative
HAIKU :: 6a :: PROMISE
Together we were,
friends we remain …
we promise
HAIKU :: 6b :: CLOUDS and WINDS
Clouds interlacing
winds of night separating
rejoined by sunrise
HAIKU :: 6c :: SUN AND MOON
Sun, moon at nightfall
separated by darkness
rejoined by first light
Collection: Haiku
Categories:
interlacing, encouraging, life, relationship,
Form:
Haiku
A
Pink dawn
Reflecting
Interlacing
Light
Red
Open
Beaks, calling
Impatience in
Nests.
3/18/19
For Light Up the Page 3 contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Categories:
interlacing, bird, morning, spring,
Form:
Lanterne