Best Intruding Poems
I'll bet this set of rusty shears have a story they could tell,
of the loneliness and broken backs in a land that's hot as hell,
where hopes and dreams mirrored lives that these shearers led,
here among the ruins of an outback-shearing shed.
I'll bet this set of rusty shears have a story often told,
in optimistic mirages where water is pure as gold,
and living quarters offered would barely shield the moon
in stifling heat of summer, or bitter cold in June.
All that's left is one wall teasing, the wind to blow it down.
Mustering yards are overgrown; mulga posts lie on the ground.
There's hand-made nails, broken rails, memories that are spread,
here among the ruins of an outback shearing shed.
I feel like I'm intruding out here on the western plains,
standing here in a ghostly wind where it hardly ever rains,
imagining I lived the life that these shearers led,
in the ruins with the ghosts of an outback shearing shed.
All that's left is one wall teasing, the wind to blow it down.
Mustering yards are overgrown; mulga posts lie on the ground.
Oil tins and sharpening stone, broken glass is widely spread
here among the ruins of an outback shearing shed.
I'll bet this set of rusty shears have a story they could tell,
of the loneliness and broken backs in a land that's hot as hell,
where hopes and dreams preceded lives that these shearers led,
here among the ruins of an outback-shearing shed.
Here in my room,
I lay in my bed,
With every thought of you,
Intruding my head,
Like snapshots in my brain,
Of the last thing you said,
My gut is violated,
And I twitch with rage,
I cannot free myself,
From this anxiety ridden cage,
And in this chapter of our life,
It seems I can't turn the page,
This torture is much worse,
Since you have been away,
I am so scared,
That away is where you'll stay,
And no matter how hard I try,
I will have to lay here in my room,
Alone one more day.
By Mac Holmes. Janettas grandson.
Written sitting in my room alone still waiting...
Mist rolls through silently, ghost in the trees.
The near field glistens; the far fades away.
Spring creates longing on days such as these;
Winter’s advancing, has nothing to say.
The near field glistens; the far fades away,
formless and shifting, as far as one sees.
All is enshrouded and cloaked in the gray.
Spring creates longing on days such as these;
waiting for sunshine to come out and play,
water drops shelter, avoiding the freeze.
Winter’s advancing, has nothing to say,
intruding so rudely, quite ill at ease,
seeks no permission, intending to stay.
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A Trimeric, with A:B:C:D B:x:x C:x:x D:x:x. There are no rhyming or syllable requirements
I stopped just once to look back..
And saw my tracks across the snow.
Steps upon that pure white blanket,
Wishing I’d found another way to go.
Already though, in gentle downy flakes,
Nature began to fill those intruding marks.
And return the gentle winter splendor
To that serene and lovely woodland park.
The sun was sinking to its rest,
Leaving its sparkle on the forest floor.
I smiled and turned for home again…
My tired heart at peace once more
Inspired by Robert Frost
Profound silence
felt and revered,
stirring an awesome emotion
which stillness repeals
whenever brightness shines;
and the primroses' scent spreads the delight
of the mild season.
What do the stars
tell a lover's heart...palpitating
in tranquility, amid shadows
that advance with the pretty fireflies?
Dream, and reprieve from the loss...
hoping that love doesn't lay at rest,
but chooses to celebrate
'till after the evening and tell romantic tales.
The invisible crickets chirp,
somewhat awkward to the ears,
I'd rather hear the coos of the owls,
which are richer and more harmonious in sound,
but where are they in this darkness, unless
they are mating in the willows of the lake?
Our blanket is spread on the wide Sheep Meadow,
with the superb view of the Manhattan's skycrapers,
towering over us as sentinels in castle's towers.
Juliet wanted to taste this freedom,
embracing and kissing her handsome Romeo,
not fearing anyone intruding in her paradise,
unwilling to leave anytime soon;
and unruffled, she would continue to love him.
What do the stars tell a lover's heart?
Accept the lovely rose that he offers you, and adore it,
because it has no thorns, to make you bleed in despair;
sing with him a beautiful sonnet that Shakespeare wrote
for his lover who crossed the huge Atlantic ocean,
when ships took months to reach America's shore!
Written on 2/19/2010
Big Cypress stirs, heated by Miccosukee
sky hung in spun gold. Rising in the east,
morning sways with waves of river grass
as the elder paddles through waking water
in dugout canoe. Bare-chested, he whistles
an old, creek song, lost and found in tangles
of green swampland. Bronzed face chiseled from
stone gazes on soft, flush of Indian summer;
a burning heart beats with nature beneath.
In hand, he clenches twine of sacred bundle.
Beads of sweat fall from head lowered in prayer
to the Creator. His silent prayer for earth, hunt,
harvest and tradition collides with modern tribal
life, a quiet moment complicated by thoughts of
upcoming ceremonial festivities. If only,
he could step back in time to dance in ancient
garments 'round sacred fire free from tourists’ pale,
intruding eyes. His daughter and wife will sew
and bead jewelry to sell; his grandsons will wrestle
alligators; and he, the elder, will stand proud,
fighting to maintain dignity and culture under
a warm Miccosukee sky, hung by his ancestors
...in spun gold.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, 11/17/13
for Shanity Rain's Native American People Contest
Awakened by the creaking of the dying trees
In this barren land devoid of a breeze
Imprisoned dreams in a land of unpicked seams
Endless chasms of regrets in which no sunlight beams
Broken chords strumming tunelessly in solitude
Of songs of praises by an adoring multitude
Intruding reflections oppress thoughts that soar
Waltzing through his mind she invades once more
Time when they were darlings of virtuosic impression
Dancing in wild abandon to a public adoration
Truly enamoured in each other, their love did blossom
Though, in Life’s carousel sadly far too often
Pursuing perfection whatever may befall
One loses focus in the fluster of a fall
Adorning false crowns in high esteem
Ego soars and plummets and shatters the dream
In the drop of a pin - displeasure he perceives
past idolising could not now appease
the icy cold rejection she projects as she flees
leaving a broken man - who has failed to please
For many long years he lays wishing death’s end
Dwelling on memories of his so-called friends
Friends he thought steadfast who chose to ignore
his whispered words ‘forgive me I implore’
Shunned he was before his knees hit the floor
After long years of solitude one day he awakens
Finding his dark soulless days have been forsaken
Terrors of the night have been released - set free
From an unsuspecting sky all dark clouds flee
Dark night of the soul heralds White Light of the Self
Perceptions of enlightenment an awakening of himself
From the corner of his eye a movement he detects
A woman of the White Light he strongly suspects
In her iridescent persona to her task she ascends
His vulnerability she sees and her hand she extends
And in a confetti of star showers his heart she mends
Copyright © Nov 2020 Maria Williams
Intruding fingers
Linger at the hollow of her back.
Heart fluttering in anticipation
She holds her breath.
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The Great ITTY BITTY Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Placing: 1st
Meeting Van Gogh…sonnet
the wheat-field, blond as a Volga German milk maid, heat
intense and in the shade of a demanding olive tree I saw
grumpy Van Gogh, glaring at me intruding on his painting.
“Sorry for the scooter it is electric blue and doesn’t fit in,
pretend it is a donkey free of its leather harness.”
The vines, deep green leaves and fertile soil, soon there
would be grapes, mostly dark cerulean, an army of wine
to come tempting souls into surrender… liquid pleasures;
and the narrow road snakes amongst fields like a black
mamba hunting grey rabbits in the meadow.
I have the afternoon sun in my eyes, a cooling breeze
on my back; and then I drive off the road fall amongst
thistle and thorns and the spell is broken, look around
but only Van Gogh witnessed my disgrace.
The oyster's shell of succulent dawn
Burst open a suppressed exhalation yawn.
They had waited on the beach
To see the amber sunshine reach,
Huddled beneath a blanket each.
In their nude feet they walked.
They kept silent, with hands locked.
Darken clouds nudge intruding
leaving the day brooding.
Sweet brine whiff encouraged, as they listen.
Falling gracefully rain glisten.
A smile pulled at both their lips
Beneath umbrella they shared rain nips.
Rain resonating deep into the ocean,
Sand, and the lover's soul emotion.
11/10/2022
Inspiring Rainy Days Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
Balloons they float
Across the sky
In rainbow mood
Excessive high
Intruding birds
Like cloudless thoughts
With do's and don'ts
With musts and oughts
Above the trees
Rooted, they cheer
They dream of floating
Far from here
The gusting breeze
Can guide your joy
Away from ground
That can destroy
The brightest hopes
Of friendship's love
Enduring winds
Of push and shove
But bright the sky
If dull the heart
The journey home..
Yet, first depart
From dreamscape fields
From comfort clouds
To launch away
From chains and shrouds
The freedom of
The endless blue
Of eyes and skies
So pure, so true
Medical Marijuana
Magical Herb, given to this world
can cure so many things, you’d
never believe it would
from helping a cancer patient
from starving
the positive results from it
are alarming
it gives people
a chance
to alleviate the pain,
stomach aches
even a granny’s arthritis
why would anyone want to
fight this
this beautiful idea of
medical marijuana
limiting the lords
use for it, is intruding on
an individuals
freedom
Cannabis Connoisseurs
can help treat their
ADHD, sleep apnea
and tourette's syndrome
to be against
medical marijuana use
you would have
to be dumb
To claim
the legalization of such
wisdom weed
would lead
to it being
abused, turned into a gateway drug
is lying
it is all upon the decision
of the individual
the people they surround themselves
with, and what THEY are supplying
God says in Genesis 1:12
that he has given his people hemp
and to use it at our free will
and if you do a little bit of research
you too will know the
deal
Jah Bless Medical Marijuana
Anyone who has lived through them as I have,
Knows the Forties were the most memorial of all
Of the decades of the Twentieth Century
And surely the most vivid in recall.
Personally, they were the greatest of my life.
I was married in the year of Forty-One.
Then in March of Nineteen-Forty Three,
We were blessed with the birth of a new son.
Two daughters followed him in their own time,
One born in Forty-Five, and one in Forty-Six.
But intruding on the joys of my own life,
Was the world which was in a terrible fix.
Millions of Jews and others were slaughtered,
Although at the time we were mostly unaware.
In December we entered World War II
To fight Hitler and Hirohito, an evil pair.
Our young men went to war, the rest of us
Pared down our lives to help to win the war.
The barest necessities were all we had,
And we were proud to be giving more and more.
The Forties saw the first atom bomb dropped
On Japan by our own beloved country.
I would have begged Harry not to drop it had I known
But of course no one saw reason to ask me.
Despite the war there were many new inventions,
And we slowly climbed out of the depression.
We constructed bomb shelters in our back yards.
The horrors of war had left a bad impression.
There were block buster movies in those years
And television was just in its beginnings.
Rebecca, How Green Was My Valley, Mrs. Miniver
And All The King's Men, had coveted Oscar winnings.
Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole were famous.
Peggy Lee and Dinah Shore were heard.
These singers were featured and unlike today,
When they sang you could hear every word.
This is a small taste of the Forties,
I hope that I have made you understand
That everything was bigger during this decade,
War, rugged times, and big bang and big band.
Written 3/2/15
Intruding the evening and throbbing like pain
there's a gathering contusion of purple and blue
that fills the horizon, and rattles the plains
With a change in the air, and foreboding, it weighs
turning the sky into gun-metal gray
There are birds I can see, that have bent every limb,
hovering high in the cottonwoods, while cocking their heads..
A hawk circles low over fields growing grain,
scanning for shelter, sensing the rain
Bold, unafraid, something shatters the bones
of an earth that is weary, .. thirsty, and worn
It scatters the birds as we look up the road
where the sun has retreated and troops have composed
There is pathos, confusion, in wind driven clouds
swept in from the rim of darkness, and now
the tongue of a serpent has severed the sky
bleaching the landscape, and blinding the eye.
Earth trembles in pain, dueling swords will collide
Count to ten, as they say, sparks will fly once again
The war isn't over……… Take cover and run!
______________________________________________________
2/23/18
Contest: "Describe a thunder storm without the sense of sound"
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
About this show,
My girls are amused,
Interrupting my sports,
Intruding my news,
To the television,
Their eyes are glued,
Ignoring mom cries,
Snacks or food,
So a series,
I just viewed,
And I thought it was,
Oh so rude,
On a talk show,
Girls fighting half nude,
I found it unpalatable,
I found it lewd..