Best Internal Poems
i sit lonely.
the crowded restaurant is thick with sound
i pick away at it
moving back into the stagnant silence
of my own comfort
the air is nasty here
it telepathically abuses my thought patterns
still
a far cry better
the loud hum of food
marching to the vacant crowd
suffocates me
a decorated plate joins my table
strikes a conversation with the cutlery
there is no call from the governor
as i attack my food
fork knife teeth
bites later
a paper plane flies in
a swipe of my plastic
makes quick work of the bill
i exit
seemingly quicker
than human eyes can catch
i hate this part
i parley my way through
too many bodies
all the while staring
at a concrete maze
never making eye contact
with a single soul
i do that
i always do that
keep the entrances of my being
away from those who would stare me down
attempt to engage me in conversation
with a desire to lock eyes
if they looked in they would burn
i’d be held responsible
FINALLY
home
the only environment i feel safe in
my therapist will be proud
almost an hour today
assuming i see her again
i am covered in my own dew
my breathing sporadic
i line up an array of pills like good soldiers
as i continue my attempt
survive another day
it will take hours to regain my sanity
all the while questioning the purpose
why must i assimilate
back into the dungeons
they call society
it behooves me
find one reason
join the rank and file
plug back into a horrendous grid
i had escaped
i
grow
weary
of
my
own
thoughts
ignore my voice
slowly regain my footing
plant roots
hope they’ll take hold
attempt to return
into the vacuum of my existence
i sit lonely.
Living amid the blurred lines of my reflections
Stark cold fears snow me blanket my resolve
Nestled my leafless core begging for rebirth
Patches of life clumped to the reality of what is what was
Soul penetrating every doubt of self worth
Raw exposure of glory days forgone
Dreams engulf the rapture of greener pastures
Revealed in roots embedded firmly in my foundation
Seeds flourish branches extend and trunks stand firm
As a misty autumn succumbs to winters harsh chilling grasp.
The sky turns bleak and hues of shrouding grey.
The ominous days unfold shorter and colder.
The remnants of vegetation lie pitifully withered and sparse,
as nature rests dead and in the throws of decay.
Early morning frost like sprinkled powder
smothers a barren land
and shards of ice hang from naked trees as fingers of a hand.
Dew drops appear like goose bumps,
along a parade of wrinkly naked trees.
Bare branches and rooftops seem lifeless,
as birds have no desire for frosty serenades.
Trampled iced leaves, decay in ashen damp air,
as snail-like sluggish humanity adorns its seasonal fleece.
Despite winter's scentless bitter breaths,
the soul ignites an internal bonfire -
radiating a vigilant glow to the surface.
Silent One collaboration with Peter Dome.
13 November 2020
Thank you Peter for this brilliant collaboration.
Peter is a very talented poet, please check out his poetry.
How fondly he recalls when doting moon stared
Blush of her radiant smile gleamed opaline skies
While cuddling stellar vibes love they declared
And embracing her allure he venerated his prize.
In womb of romantic night passions-grand aired
Exchanging fervent vows, longing dawn of sunrise,
When revealing prurience every intention bared
In rhapsodic titillation euphoric feelings surmise.
Alas! soon emotions hid—dispiritedly impaired
When blissful times saddened hearing her cries
As souls, deceptively beguiled, no longer cared,
Silence between them grew stoking sullen guise,
For rise of whimsical day, woefully unprepared,
Shadowed glamorous arc, deeming fate unwise,
And upon sanguine horizons stygian storms flared
As the pledges of forever, destiny chose to revise.
She pleaded to forget the love they once shared,
Its flame was extinguished by whim of disguise;
Dreams they dreamt could no longer be repaired
Once the spark of aspirations abandoned her eyes.
Suppressions of emotions left them bereft, unpaired,
As lovelorn inhibitions roared, to spell their demise
Exiting prized fervor, forsaking dreams unrepaired,
Trapping unrequited love-vibes where passion dies.
May 10, 2022
Placed 1st: Pick-A-Title, Vol 30 – Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen: Internal Inhibition
The night of notorious orchids
speaks in faltering bioluminescence,
hurling ricochets of rhapsody
through conch-shell chaos,
like gothic mantras
rising from wounded waves,
carrying salt-soaked roses
into the face of interstellar inferno ~
an unsettling
illustration of internal paralysis…
I am scarlet-scarred frost,
crestfallen in silent disarray,
like an avalanche ~ already torn,
consumed in chronic emptiness,
collapsing into
compulsive numbness,
unable to voice the truth,
shattered by the last dying breeze
that smothered my will
to believe ~ to rise ~ to dream…
But, am I to be crowned with blame,
laced in regret and shame,
while the mirror mirrors
a pulse that pains in self-isolation,
a soft-spoken sabotage,
fearing every familiar flicker
of fragranced starlight,
questioning the silk
and silver on moon-rivers,
for even the beauty of love feels
like temporary treachery,
betraying bouquets of constellations…
And I communed with soul’s serpents ~
they know the hollowness
of this splitting madness…
Must I perish
in a catacomb conscience,
where the mind gaslights grief,
manipulating melancholy
like a widow’s deathless elegy,
as if I were no poet ~
with a mourning riddle,
bleeding ballads
through blistered thistles ~
the anatomy of a heart
abandoned and forgotten
in its own crypt of catharsis…
As a misty autumn succumbs to winters harsh chilling grasp.
The sky turns bleak and hues of shrouding grey.
The ominous days unfold shorter and colder.
The remnants of vegetation lie pitifully withered and sparse,
as nature rests dead and in the throes of decay.
Early morning frost like sprinkled powder
smothers a barren land
and shards of ice hang from naked trees as fingers of a hand.
Dewdrops appear like goosebumps,
along a parade of wrinkly naked trees.
Bare branches and rooftops seem lifeless,
as birds have no desire for frosty serenades.
Trampled iced leaves, decay in ashen damp air,
as snail-like sluggish humanity adorns its seasonal fleece.
Despite winter's scentless bitter breaths,
the soul ignites an internal bonfire -
radiating a vigilant glow to the surface.
Silent One collaboration with Peter Dome.
13 November 2020
With closed eyes she thinks
Angels wings change from black to white
Her contemplation
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-3.php
negativity
peel away layers
behold emptiness
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
© Joseph S. Spence, Sr., (Epulaeryu Master) 5/15/09
All Rights Reserved, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA
Senior Advisor, to Founder of Motivational Strips
Ambassador De Literature
Noble Star of Literature 2018
Living Legend of the 21st Century
Pentasiv B World Friendship Poetry Featured Poet 2019
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
"The Internal Garden"
Inwards ever inwards
overgrown with jungle
my weeds bloom
eventually into
the most exotic flowers
colours exquisite
vibrant and unknown
breaking the external barriers
within the one called home
their perfume singing
and sending gifts
whisper soft now
tickling
all venomous and
benevolent muses
escaping Amygdala
sliding through Alcatraz
with diamond dogs and snakes
silver crystal glistening grass
softly gorgeous green and gecko like
moving emeralds
velvet eyes 'neath
dark and dusky fringes
piercing light waves
shining changing shapes
and shades
I am fresh
for taking red apples
ripe and delicious
juicy, a taste for hot living
twin blue lakes as mirrors
stripped naked now jades
breaching new skin
for moving limbs
and skinny dipping
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Thinking, deciding, and cuddling all muddle flow.
I'm not a wiz; I solve, yet my riddles, I know
My thoughts and deeds, like an artists', are creative.
My reflecting and planning are liberative.
Should dews of hope be erased by beams of despair?
Should my compassion change as per seasonal air?
There are unconscious courses in my mind and soul.
Like webs that fuse each fleck and speck into a whole
Nightmares that slaughter peace within the inner shrine's core
Feeling that, like birds, above the skies of mind sore
Impulsive admiration of flimsy beauty
All this progress as though a soon-to-do duty
Love, happiness, forgiveness, compassion, and trust
Collide with loneliness, helplessness, and disgust
Self-awareness, like a breeze between tempests, struggles
Between beliefs and doubts, there are silent rubbles.
While sour dualities of good and bad exist
Isn't there, between each straight-seeming path, a twist?
Peace
Quiet reflection
Internal connection
External reaction
Time for visual extraction
Wisdom from the pearl
Of harmonious being
Searching and seeking
For the truth of life's meaning
Bright colors of the aura
Shine through the soul
Rainbows on the heart
Beaming spirit
Senses are awakened
Lost souls foresaken
Looking for past loves
To release the pain from before
Deep memories to explore
Internal calm
Path to harmony and joy
For now and tomorrow
Peace quietly reflects
The spiritual storm
Inner Connection
No longer torn
when moonbeams intrude
on edge of a graphite night—
my pulse feels a rush
(Internal rhyme)
One week of peace, I’ll watch the geese,
Maybe fly southeast, or maybe southwest,
It will be their quest, I’ll be their guest,
As geese fly east, I will watch in peace,
And sit on my fleece, as geese fly east.
Inherit my wings, give flying a fling,
And see if it brings, winter or spring,
Summer again, or a winter benign,
Nature will win, doing it all again,
Season’s cycle, by Angel Michael,
Life’s natural recycle.
Fall weather’s best, within to get rest,
Visit Oktoberfest, a very trying test,
Disturbing my rest, being no more a guest,
Pokka dancing storm, advances age alarm,
Finished with that, just play with cat,
Until he spits, then I’ll quit,
Then I’ll get!.. a chair…
and just sit!
For: A Week To Do As I Please
In Honor of Carol Brown and contest!
As she curls her body into itself
Remembering the day that had followed
She is no longer herself
But only
A mere ghost of what she once was
So much has gone through her body
Her rib cage splayed open like an inviting door
People leaving their dirty foot prints on her lungs
She never remembers inviting them in
But she is far too weak to close the door
The soles of her shoes have worn with her footsteps to find happiness
She always saw the exit sign
But
Her anxiety like an old demon
Creeping its way into her body taking over control
Everytime
The safety of her depression
Always waiting for her to fall back into
Catching her with its claws
Her insomnia at night
Telling her everything isn’t alright
a picture of her
is setting my mind at ease
wishing she was here....