Best Intrudes Poems
On the edge of silence
beyond mossy-muffled stone walls
a wind chime chants—faint
like falling sparkles of stars;
honeyed musings
of a wind-spirit on the move,
west to east
a bridge of broken chords.
Cosmic animation
stirs my domestic pulsation.
In a supple sweep
from beyond the western dusk,
soft notes jangle in sweet saunter—
so like you,
an angel’s riff on an airy whiff.
O wind chanter,
I hear your chimes
as I linger
in undying love for him
…yes
I hear you, singer!
Sing to me of his approach!
For alone,
on the cold stone of a lifeless dusk,
I mourn the most.
Like a moth vibrating
around the lantern’s glow,
I feel the brush of his touch
amid breezy flutters;
flirtations
with a long blonde tress
and the white frills
of my nightdress.
O bittersweet enchantment!
O wild yet tender wind—O embracing visitor!
But how do I hold you?
How do I hold the wind, my love?
Always! Always!
You slip away
on blank paper wings!
My human nature aspires to fly
but my every heartbeat; rib-caged.
Ironclad in mortal armor.
Obliged to the grasp of gravity’s greed.
Damn the bane of my spirit’s capture
and love’s coupled yoke
that did not die with you!
Damn the bane of my lifeblood
bound to its artery stream bed!
Though my lovelorn river
pulses with throbs of a tide robbed
not even a river’s rapture
can compete with the thrills
of your unbound freedom—
oh death’s freedom!
The ringing sleigh-bell singing
of spring peepers intrudes
O wind chanter, distant wind chime,
your tinsel talk fades.
He is lost to me again—
Lost!
Lost
lost….
People milling around I do not notice them,
my face is turned to hide my loneliness,
Am walking in my own despair
No one else intrudes on my thoughts of
"How they were"
Days, months, years when love mattered
Loneliness was just a word
One word amongst many not used, thought absurd
Now I live this word
My heart is broken Feelings are numb
Trying to be the person I once was
People see my dimpled smile
Cannot see the ripped up emotions
Of reality.
Loneliness is an illness
Medication cannot cure
Non viral yet can spread easily
Prolific between young people
The elderly also.
Symptoms
Eyes are looking dead
Face looking down
Shutting out interference
A hug helps but non returnable .
Responses non existent
Living dead.
To be lonely is more than being alone
Loneliness can kill your soul
I sit in silence in a dim lit mood,
while into the darkness I cast my stare.
The rain tapping on my window intrudes,
upon such a night too lonely to share.
My thoughts then turn to the passing of time,
memories hidden in forgotten tears.
Catching small glimpses of moments sublime,
as faces and places bookmark the years.
Pondering the past becomes an escape,
from the prison of the day to day grind.
Pleasant old memories will soon reshape,
when altered by a half-truth telling mind.
As I sit in quiet darkness alone,
I wonder who else the silence has drawn.
2/19/19
(Paul Callus & Eileen Manassian ~ March 2020)
Where poppies grow in brilliant bursts of red
and bumble bees go searching with intent
she often goes; there sits with dreamy eyes
suspending time, quiescent moments spent.
The wind intrudes on chain of mellow thoughts;
it sifts through youthful zest deprived of guile.
With gaze serene she twirls a lock of hair
as lips betray a fleeting wistful smile.
Though far away, his presence lingers near;
his kiss like sunlight’s warmth on shoulders bare.
It seems to her, he whispers in her ear.
She breathes the fragrance of his tender care.
A sigh escapes her lips as she recalls
his body close to hers in moonlit night.
The promise that he made before goodbye
now makes her quiver with a strange delight.
For she has yet to know the fervent thrill
that overtakes the soul in love's embrace.
On his return, he’ll claim her for his own
but now each nymph of nature wears his face.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
© A Callman collaboration~ March 2020
Where poppies grow in brilliant bursts of red
and bumble bees go searching with intent,
she often goes; there sits with dreamy eyes
suspending time, quiescent moments spent.
The wind intrudes on chain of mellow thoughts;
it sifts through youthful zest deprived of guile.
With gaze serene, she twirls a lock of hair
as lips betray a fleeting wistful smile.
Though far away, his presence lingers near;
his kiss like sunlight’s warmth on shoulders bare.
It seems to her, he whispers in her ear.
She breathes the fragrance of his tender care.
A sigh escapes her lips as she recalls
his body close to hers in moonlit night.
The promise that he made before goodbye
now makes her quiver with a strange delight.
For she has yet to know the fervent thrill
that overtakes the soul in love's embrace.
On his return, he’ll claim her for his own,
but now each nymph of nature wears his face.
A Callman Collaboration
Paul Callus and Eileen Manassian
Marquees are bright with neon lights, where crowds line up for movie night
Holding hands, we're in 'The Strand'. The velvet carpet guides us in
Popcorn smokes, .. we're drinking cokes,... and cracking jokes with Bing and Hope
Lamour's along with more sarongs,... , her luscious lips, and cigarettes,
She fills ashtrays with smoking tips, and tosses guys like poker chips
'Movietone' intrudes with news, and soon we're in somber mood
Third-Reich goosesteps march again, ... an evil presence in the wind...
Cary Grant , (a news reporter), loves his girl, and his typewriter
"His Girl Friday", plot is witty, sometimes crazy. But Cary loves this ditzy lady....
William Powell and Mryna Loy..., Asta barks, and finds a toy, ...a ploy? a clue?,....
...an earring gold. The mystery is clearly solved.-- A crimson sun, is rising cold!
Movietone in black and white,... graphic scenes, where soldiers die
Another night, suspense on chart. 'Correspondent' , Joel McCrea.
Saves Lorraine, and claims the Day. BUY WAR BONDs !! They'll pave the way
Bogart, Bergman bring to light, a valiant flght , within their grasp
Airline ticket, in her hand, they must part, and do what's right, no questions asked
----
It's movie night, but you aren't here, a troopship took you far from here
Allied troops are moving tanks. I wait for you..God give me strength
I'm in the Strand, within the dark, there's no one here to hold my hand
I'm all alone...........I heard the news....................You left it all in Anzio
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For Contest Chopped III Sponsored by Craig Cornish
11/23/14
a single setback
prelude to an avalanche
health, friendships, property, finances
lay buried in angst, waiting for a thaw
life gone awry
paranoia intrudes
beast with talons scrapes the bones
behind each corner it waits
chameleon of many faces
anxiety’s confusing design
apprehension overcomes the victim
when perceiving camouflaged predators
who goes there
friend or foe
stomach knots, eyes tear
prey trembles in the beast’s pursuit
elusive is the light
that leads from the valley of trepidation
where tentacles of anxiety
choke the breath of reason
*February 23, 2019
Windstill ©
Subtle silence
Windstill
trees await the next
message on the air
Windstill
not a whisper of birdsong
not a leaf-rustle intrudes
as it falls
fluttering down to the ground
The wind has departed
beyond the next hill
leaving in its wake
Windstill
Will it return? The breeze
dancing amongst the leaves
to the tune of the forest
Shall the still wind haunt
amongst the trees?
or come roaring back, shrieking?
Windstill
An empty heart cries out through a long night
the only sound heard is the tears that fall
where pain rises to a terrible height
and no one answers the lonely heart's call
black is quieter when inhaled alone
and the blank space of confusion intrudes
when a heart's pain, struggles with the unknown
tortured shadowed realms turn to darker moods
How long will eyes stare into a black void?
How tight will eyelids close, to find lost gleams?
when the soul is barren and found devoid
and pain-filled thresholds turn nightmarish dreams
How long is time that will never relent?
How deep is the pain when the heart is spent?
Hell breaks loose through the trusting door
Whining its splintering, wooden hinges
Claws wrapping onto the arches beyond
Gnarled feet pressed on the threshold
Lower limbs jingling with sparky anklets
Ready to catapult and kick with spitting mouth
To shove its shine like a worthy prick
It was time for her daily purges
Peace is slapped about in her fickle hands and made ragged
Turmoil in her pedicured toes erodes the smoothed surfaces
Of the fashions’ must, into dusty rust of sick disgust
Her coral lips curve in delight
At the sight of confused and crazy creatures
Staring numbly at her hell-bent sight
She is always laughing, snarling or lying low
Waiting for the climatic blow
Bottom dwelling, blush smearer
Eyeliner runner, nail-biting binger
Her lies tease and her eyes see a perfect she will never be
As her large, curved nails glimmer
She scuttles her way like a crab in a salty delirium
She hides her hiss like a snake ready to miss for a chase
Challenging practicality,
“Dear Prudence,
Won’t you come out to play?”
But we are silent to the accursed
The wise are wary and rehearsed
We all slip right through as she intrudes an empty room
Waiting for a reaction, screwing with the lights to assert a distraction
She wreaks havoc in the dark,
“Dear Prudence!”
She screams,
As we softly walk down the path, nomads against the crabs
She doesn’t realize she is her worst fear—alone
Her mask melting and her anklets snapping
Collapsing, the tears she squeezed for her high
Were emptied, vindicated and dried
Angrily she must realize
In her twisted, stubborn way
It’s a beautiful day…
A crazy collab with my brother David Breidenthal [J.W Earnings]
So sweet a kiss
The murmuring tunes of Spring
In the fragrant breath of night
Hums within my slumbering ears.
Like the whispering trees dancing
In the softest dews descending
From the vapours of the skies
When the soothing night
Was young with the glimmering moon of May.
The poor labouring clouds expanded wide
In the muted distance ripe with coldness
While the storming of the Eastern wind
Drifted through the blossoming fields
Graced by the sultry springs in the lulling hours.
I pulled the weary drapes
When the night grew old with silence
From a crystal window
Mirrored against the dumb fields
Black with the night.
A soft mist exudes the dead wind
Curled around the nodding branches.
Then I stealed away to the vacant spot
Where a crackling fire
Invaded the mournful breath of silence.
Lipsing sounds intrudes the night
Upon the quiet slopes and verdant span
Where the blossoms gently bow
Kissing soft the silver spray
Fluttering in the starry distance.
There sauntered I
Under the gladsome sky
To pluck a cherry from its stem
Outstretched beneath the sobbing moon
That in the dawning misty hours
That silver orb of light expires
When the sun had greet the day
With a golden sigh!
The forest's morning sunlight tip-toes through the trees
casting puzzle pieces round, oh so, carelessly;
hiding all the corner bits scattered by the breeze.
The slighter boles of ash whisper endlessly
as their upright slash of gray teases 'tween the green
while their larger cousins stand, oh so, stoically.
And, the sky far over head blues the in between
back lighting, spruce and pine, as far as the eye can see.
Man intrudes like a child, man and his machines.
Knocking down the squirrel's nest, disturbing the bee
leaving waste along the path, muddying the stream
misplaced is his disregard in that we all agree.
Oh so brashly, mankind walks through nature's domain
a misfit son, a terror, crippling while he reigns.
The low suffer most the blow of the law
And no better do they fare with its flow:
From injustice to injustice it carries them
But none ever calls this a flaw.
For like that, perhaps, she can’t help to be,
Born of the mighty as she is.
Once, though, every eternity the cords of
patience snap:
Justice is demanded and swiftly she comes.
It's time for revolution, the clash unto ash
between the classes.
By saw and seesaw there'll be newness abroad:
The old system teeters as its sinews are severed
And from cakes of blood springs another;
That long denied by law is now seized by claw,
And from star to tar the mighty tumble
As their thrones are lowered for dwarfs to
mount.
Upwards go the erstwhile low
To be class dwarfs no more
But the mighty of the land.
Amidst this newness, though, an old song
soon intrudes:
In voices faint and mournful we hear it sung
By those from star to lowly tar fallen.
In fields and taverns, at work and at play,
It dwells on lips bright and sullen;
But up above behind stately walls where
stands the palace
None but the children dare sing it—
The song they once heard old papa sing,
Which loosened his lips like a wicked brew
But now binds them shut like a glue.
When from frolics they break
In their playfields green
And in palace parlors
At once warm chants from their breasts erupt
Which with glee and charm they long sustain
Till every soul feel their lips beguiled
To render accompaniment in a whistled melody.
Then swirls the music about every ear, and all can
hear the palace ring:
“The low suffer most the blow of the law
And no better do they fare with its flow:
From injustice to injustice it carries them
But none ever calls this a flaw.
For like that, perhaps, she can’t help to be,
Born of the mighty as she is.”
She rides into town with a storm as her steed
With clicking ice spurs, and rattling reins
With somber delivery and the bleak look of gloom
Bursting with pride as the old year must end
She shoves her way into the house out of spite
A dooms-day gray cloud, who brings her own blight
Leaving a trail of footprints and mud
Building a nest out of leftover crumbs
Flapping her wings and spinning the clock
Strutting her youth at the stroke of midnight
She stalks on wet feet, with some snow on her boots
She shouts out the news that your taxes are due
No care in the world that she makes us feel blue!
Her windows are dark, and her doorway is bare
She holds a firm grip, till the end of her stay
Yet, slowly and surely, against good advice
Intrudes like a flood, as she watches creeks rise
At last comes the sun, to shoo her away
To thaws her cold grip, and her frown of surprise
With remorse, she announces... it's time for goodbye!
______________________________________________________________
With rainbow wings, you tarry among the stones
Your caress as light as dew drops in the sun
Searching for a rose to call your own...
A morning breeze intrudes to join the fun
Tickling vines, and petals, where you've clung
You find a place to rest awhile and preen
Then fly to me, assured and debonair
You spread apart kaleidoscopic wings
While proudly knowing roses cannot compare
Nor can the scarlet ribbon in my hair
Dear butterfly, while neighbors won't suspect
This love affair I have with you,
My hair, in which you light, holds new barrette
You flatter me,... am I prize pursued?
You've fluttered down, to be my arm's tattoo
The butterfly flutters by, in whimsical routine
I see him circle round my head, as if to play a game
A tease you are, dear butterfly, I cannot intervene
We will be friends, or more than that, tho' it may be insane
I'll tell you mine, you tell me yours, or do you have a name?
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For PD. Butterfly Contest