Best Invisibly Poems
When sea gods invisibly show their glory
They’re escorted by their elusive sea army;
Vow before them, their loud rhapsodic chords play,
As heard in light of blue waves on summer day.
Marvelous army with mighty spiral swords
Hewed by sea gods, their magnificence- behold!
Their trimmed trident’s tines conjure like somersault,
Wish I'm sea god’s knight to ride on them and joust.
Coastal birds herald their rare presence with glee
With ineffable joy, breeze hums sweet ditty;
Surfs break in applause beneath the granite cliffs
As splendid narwhals’ display… nature breaths…sniffs~
Narwhals are great sea god’s mighty unicorns,
They’re special sea army, prides of Poseidon!
Earth element of wind, elusive to exploring eyes,
a gaseous, gusty ghost, she gyrates- gallops gallantly.
She bashes, bends, and bobs the branches of each bush and tree,
and chases, circles, curls dry fallen leaves so agilely.
We hear her bellow, bawl, and bluster when she's feeling fierce;
soft sounds of swishing, stirring- sighing when serene and tame.
With solid, staunch, and strapping strength, she soon can shift a house
within a raucous, raging, raving, reckless, hurricane.
She cools, controls, composes in the sultry summer heat,
forms wild and wheeling waves with whitecaps on the widespread sea;
a force that's fearless, frantic, sometimes, feeble- frail, she flies,
impermanent, intangible, she soars invisibly.
This ghastly glimmer of great ghostly gumption rushes by,
a force that is not sculpture, shadow, silhouette, or shape.
We feel and hear her apt and awesome atmospheric breath-
until she plans her fast, flirtatious, feathery escape.
March 18, 2016
~1st Place~
Contest: 2019 Poetry Marathon Qualifier's Final Placement
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Judged: 04/20/2019
~1st Place~
Contest: 2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 22
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Judged: 03/08/2019
~1st Place~
Contest: Elements Part 2: Wind
Sponsor: Brian Davey
Judged: 3/29/2016
*Alliteration, Rhyme, written in Iambic Heptameter,
14 Syllables, 7 feet per line
For years I wore
your shame as my own
and lived unknown
in terror of being seen
like a leper
self-quarantined
intrinsically unclean
Your neglect
became to me
my insignificance
undeserving of your glance
Your abuse
became to me
my fault and utter blame
my soiled but rightful name
Your abandonment
to me
was my unworthiness
unfit and valueless
'Til this layered shame became
a camouflaging cloak
wrapped about with care
disguising me as if
I wasn't even there
How I avoided them
my friends so true
for they could plainly see
the agony in me
and I couldn't control
it radiating through
Yet butterflies won't stay bound
in crippling cocoons
integrity impugned
by wings that cannot fly-
and I at last have found
the answer to my wounds
in exposing you
and all your lies
You were cruel-
I do matter
You were guilty-
I am not to blame
You were unfit-
I am worthy
You nearly destroyed me-
But I overcame
Now my only dread is
of leaving this world
as un-notably as I came
as invisibly as I lived
to be known only
by others
as unredeemed as
you thought me to be-
No! the truth
will set me free...
I humbly give
this cloak to you
it was yours to wear
not mine to share
I'm through
I'm through
I'm through.
Silence breeds a droning bunch,
a blackened kettle, a stolen lunch.
The dismal lead while sheep give chase,
a silent echo, a spoofed embrace.
Abandoned youth viewed once again,
a manifest of mice, not men.
Hypocrites now preach the word,
murdered lines and vision blurred.
Despair entangles a shallow light,
disavowed, this tale they write.
A painted faux becomes the rage,
dyed and bleached on every page.
A conjured trick becomes their ruse,
theft and fraud showcase thy muse.
Invisibly, the truth is moot,
concealed in dirt, this hidden root.
a dizain
Admire her casting, lines of silky floss;
survey as artist drafts her masterpiece.
Enclosing space invisibly across,
then single-handedly, she will increase
the center parts to form unseen valise.
A purse of unsuspected, vicious taint -
its straps in hand, she naps - a wily feint.
Artistic beauty flows, but will soon ebb,
when tender insects clutter her restraint.
Artiste awakes to wealth within her web.
Nov. 17, 2010
The truth
It will destroy you
An August day
While you sweep up
rose petals
On our Sun drenched
porch
You look at me from
under heavy lashes
And say it's ok
You don't wish to be
without me
It's ok your always
want me
Your never stop
I'll bask in this
glory
Thanking God for you
loving me
As tears prick the
back of my eyes
The hand around my
heart squeezes a
little tighter
Until I am
breathless with it
In time
There is a
difference to us
Making love is no
longer rushed
After
I look at you,
looking down at me
But neither of us
say it's pointless
Your days a little
darker
A little longer
Things a little more
useless
The hand around my
heart squeezes a
little tighter
As the truth picks
away at your dreams
one by one
At Christmas we
pretend we are still
happy
Completely in love
While in the garden
with your sister
The truth pours out
of me in great sobs
She says it's ok
your get through
this
We both know she's
lying
Inside she's crying
I had no right in
making you love me
So the hand squeezes
a little tighter
round my heart
Somewhere along the
way
Anger rises
The tension
surprises us
You begin to resent
me
Hate me for letting
you love me
And I am sorry
I stayed a little
too long
Cared a little too
much
I needed this
whatever it was
So the hand squeezes
a little tighter
round my heart
Invisibly I collect
my possessions
Storing them
They lay in wait
Courage appears
At three in the
morning on a Tuesday
Quietly I get my
things
Wait by the window
for a taxi
As the hand squeezes
a little tighter
round my heart
The knowledge
erupted
Watching you hold
your new Godson
Looking at me
longingly
Knowing I can never
give you this
Tears glazing your
eyes
Looking so proud
It's wrong for me to
keep you
With me this is all
your ever be
A childless man
In your hallway
You help with my
bags saying nothing
I will never be
wife, bnever be a
mother
Without you I'll
never be anything
As the cab pulls
away
You say your always
love me
I say I know
But I have to let
you go
I'm giving you a
chance of what I
can't give you
The most precious
thing
A family
So the hand
completely squeezes
my heart
Gentle are this afternoon's random rains,
that water the garden's blooming flowers.
Still one hummingbird ignores the showers.
Life travels through its delicate veins.
Suspended motionless feeds on planted nectar,
harmless, unimposing, all thrust no vector.
My tearing eyes lit glowingly,
in awe I observe attentively
this miniature bird moving quietly.
While silk wings flutter invisibly,
his straw draws food continually.
A brushed mystical blue
with stroked green sure
presents a marveled view
of God's fairy creature.
Flitting to and
fro above land.
Diminutive and grand
this alluring,
this flying
miracle!
18~10~2014
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Contest Name: The "I Do Not Know" Poetry Form Contest
Tiny motions mark the passing of time.
Forces swirl and invisibly embrace.
Life's likes gather to be cycles in rhyme.
A grain's rest changed when burst and sweep align,
And the push of fluid leaves a thin trace.
Tiny motions mark the passing of time.
Sense of self, so many actions refine,
A presence of touch, awareness of place.
Life's likes gather to be cycles in rhyme.
Water apart, lifts in towering climb,
Falls, swirling to seep through bonds, then erase.
Tiny motions mark the passing of time.
Unaware, traits set us free, or confine.
Testing strengths in conflicts many to face.
Life's likes gather to be cycles in rhyme.
Layers concentric in nature outline.
Lives tied, or apart, forever in place.
Life's likes gather to be cycles in rhyme.
Tiny motions mark the passing of time.
Magic of stars and beauty unsurpassed, bath me
In the fragrance of your dew, let my heart sing
The woodland voices to outlast, here on the sunless lea
Where bats and owl invisibly pulse their wing.
Like the moon she will come soft into my arms
Laden with the bright scent of flowers in her hair
And the wind will serenade her, and love disarms
Our two fancies from the pillage of our fear.
This is the hour when life's care abate, and sweet now
The cicadas cascade their uncrinkling chorals loud
Love calls here from heart to heart in every bough
O sweet one, come now, come now and leave the crowd.
Enfold me in the ebony of your breast, give me milk
The moon cannot exceed in warm sugared whiteness
Let naked touch naked in thy diamond drizzled sheet of silk
We will feast on love, and find solace in Eden's happiness.
Joy dances in even to the bereft
She cracks my frown with a tango
Then she leaves my house swept
Joy is a hummingbird trapped indoors
Her iridescence lights up all my grime
Usher her out before I’m enamored
But, happiness is like fish overstayed
His cloying perfume overpowered
He is a rhino to her phoenix raised
Sometimes joy is an elephant
Hiding under a tablecloth snickering
She exits invisibly like an ant
Sometimes she’s Mary Poppins waltzing
Scrubbing a spot that I cannot dirty
Sprinkling a spoon full of sugar on salt
A lifetime of joy waltzing in wears me out
Then happiness retires to a piece of furniture
I’ll give her a ticket to dance and not pout
Someday when I am old and feeble
Too tired of laying ashes down
I’ll let joy lift my frown with needles
I’ll let her cat sit on my lap untamed
When I’m too demented to sully joy
I’ll let joy feast upon my remains
Till then I’ll leave the door ajar
** Luke 12:36
"Be like men who are waiting for their master when he returns from the wedding feast, so that they may immediately open the door to him when he comes and knocks."
Starving amber eyes that drink oasis scraps
Thrown from her cast off demeanour to fall
Upon the bare heart scape which formats and maps
The course of true love, or of nothing at all.
I am monkshood drawn, snared willingly onward,
No gaining of ground only losing of grip,
In a faithful disruption clawed inward and outward
For a smile or rebuke in the curl of her lip.
In keeping the secret and living with heartbreak,
Devoured by werewolves invisibly barking,
The madness and sadness, wolfs bane and earthquake,
Life wished away and time made for marking.
Some days it feels like a carnival dying,
With darkness encroached of a consummate skill;
Then others it lessens, the whole world goes flying,
She may want me again, and I plead that she will.
Form:
****** WITHERED BUT WISER ******
Older becomes withered, but hopefully wiser...
Thinning skin becomes invisibly thicker, tougher...
Dry and delicate though more resilient and resolute...
Wrinkled mouth still strong and determined to impart wisdom...
Diminished sight seeing life more clearly than ever...
Less endurance yet more strength to keep on living...
Weaker hands still strong for hugs and embraces...
Declining memory for yesterday but remembering in detail...
past years of children, birthdays, anniversaries...
Weaker heart beating strong and sure...
With renewed purpose and passions...
So, age related changes, probably subjectively...
viewed as negative actually morphed into positives...
for the benefits of us all...
~~~~ WITHERED BUT WISER ~~~~
Aged losses become youths' gains....!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My room is a mess - it's an archaeological record of boredom.
Christmas, Christmas, come on Christmas.
It's 4 days 'til Christmas. Why don't I go to my room and do NOTHING??
The clock ticking sounds like a large horse clomping over cobble stones.
Last year there were wall-to-wall parties - so many that you had to carry a change of clothes with you.
In 2020 there's nothing to do - but I don't have to tell YOU (my reader). Except for the whole school thing. Nothing to do but study. I read, on that webber-net thing that 38% of students are failing.
Because of the pandemic - oh, not that virus monster - the boredom pandemic - the London-tower-lonely state of slow-motion distress that’s invisibly gripped us all.
Can we hold on people? The hard-won, delicious truth is that there’s hope. Vaccines - a bunch of 'em. Is it possible to let worries go this season and simply treasure our lives?
Just this month we have or had Hanukah, Kwanza, Festivus.
Hopefully, you made wild, monkey-love on December 14th - that was "International Monkey Day" - I couldn't join you - of course - but I'm just sayin. =]
Look it up - almost every day is some kind of celebration or invent your own - if Ice Cream Day, Lemon Cupcake Day, Go Caroling Day or Crossword Puzzle Day don't do it for ya.
The important gifts, this year, are fun, attention and love.
The screams so loud
That within their distance
People stand and cry
But the tears and screams
Invisible
The impact of the punch
A crater on a child's life
People shake their heads
But the punch and judgement
Invisible
Invisible screams
Invisible fears
Invisible lives
Torn apart in invisible times
Invisible child
Not knowing where to turn
To escape what so many choose not to see
Invisible child
Sleeping in invisible arms
Where invisible child is desperate to sleep tonight
Only when they put a tiny body into a sack
The tape rings the place where at
All that was invisible before
Suddenly becomes a cause
Invisible the bruises that grew with the tears
The fractured bones
That lay alone
Invisibly
Invisible
The childhood crushed
Invisible
All the hatred that bleeds
Invisible
Those lost forever in the scream
Invisible
All those who beg to forget
For all that others could not see
To become invisible
Sunday cockcrow nascent
aural essays reveal
laissez-faire raptures.
Enigmatic silken piece compost ushered in by
trenchant trademark tremulous signature.
Doe-eyed instrumentalist’s strident brass ensemble,
wakey wakey for the pier gazing loiterer whose blasé
sashay amble’s out of kilter.
Maverick antennae on a radio safari,
hawking hourglass heritage lodestone.
Closet Peter Pan’s astride transistor, literati goggle eyed and glued.
Silhouettes of wistful mint leaf tract,
navigating hoarse throat shellback allegory.
Earnest weekend welcome mat to madcap jester, laureate, bohemian.
Religiously the listener’s transported
from a humble tepee sanctum
to alluring levee inundation area,
far flung folly edifice,
nomad siren hymn sheet to mount Half Dome.
Long wave bounder in my dreams,
I limb skip oe’r fiction world simulcast entanglement,
snoop beneath rogallo-wing parachute in a Middle East plot,
“twin peaks” would be awestruck by this labyrinthine concourse.
One can flit invisibly round medieval black market cobblestone arcades,
ghost novelist’s ethereal penchant for pinch and pilfer retro-fit infringement.
Melting pot cinnamon dispenser, whiff stick fix antidote to kettledrum ennui
the blight of urban jungle setting and rural folklore.
Otherworld contortion with a shard of drama for magic carpet flight of fancy broadcast
Lineage derived from ancient epochs now assumed but for an inkling, icons I become with card shark sly booth legerdemain.
Maybe I’m that fictile clueless hiker, destitute, indigent