Best Jet Black Poems
My inky echoes conflate,
atop mountains of ivory versos;
Blank pages into whispers,
like the sway of moonlight tides;
Papers dappled by my ineffable,
frays of jet-black cursive swirls;
My best ideas are forever found,
somewhere amidst silent worlds;
'Tis best to search for me right before,
the feathery quill touches to the page;
Arisen from the blotter, my hand held in totter,
but before I drizzle down the tar;
Where my psyche thinks loud,
with the rhythm and the rage;
A battle-ballet of coarse cashmere haze,
only then does my heart think to open up its cage;
Still I promise to always behave like a poet,
one who is the epitome of an idyllic odist;
Solemn ink be my savior, perhaps a mind lost in time,
resonant verse between blinks, my soul in the lines--
March 15, 2016
Sweet youth with its ghostly shadows of regret
encircling the mind of an aging maid...like vultures
waiting to descend
Capturing those passions left unspoken
from a self-conscious shy student in church choir.
His flawless skin drew me in like an invisible magnet.
My eyes followed his every unnoticed move
in anguished longing.
My silent lips uttered no audible words even when
he reached out to touch my long deep golden hair.
I reminisce and suddenly he's right here
His jet black hair and handsome face remain frozen
in youth as my words left, unspoken.
4-23-19
~Second Place~
Honourable Mentions worth mentioning.
Sponsor Richard Lamoureux
Contest Judged: 5/12/2019 9:11:00 AM
WHAT WAS LEFT UNSAID~HM~
Contest Judged: 4/24/2019 8:46:00 PM
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier |
Behind our house, below the deck
with its pleasing benches and sylvan view,
the back yard we have descends steeply
to a little stream called Chimacum Creek.
It is September, so the Creek’s waters
are shallow, so shallow that
little music from its ripple and flow
rises to meet our eager, listening ears above.
Any day now, the waters will surrender
their serenity and in noisy salute
yield to thrashing thunder,
as salmon spawn and meet their demise.
Sheltering us there from summer’s heat
and winter’s chilled and rainy drench,
a little family of barred owls often call and beg,
their nocturne nearly undisturbed by our home's intrusion.
Outside, my wife stands in solitary contemplation,
for this is her temple, and she its worthy guest.
Yet the minutes and hours pass so slowly now,
as grief stands weary watch with her.
We had grown so accustomed to our dear child’s
heartened ways, as ever eager to greet us
at morning’s hesitant, uncertain dawning glow
as at evening’s surrender to curl upon our bed to sleep.
Jet black hair and soft green eyes—her special dance
each moment to delight us so, we had never ever
thought today would bring us only fading echoes of
all we held so dear in this sweet and tender form.
No matter that she had a tail and two more legs than us,
she lived and loved and spoke with such eloquence
and grace, the best of us were shamed.
Angels withheld not their envy and begged for her return.
So grieve with us a moment, for fled is now
that little feline snowflake in our hand.
My rhyme is vanished; my muse is stilled.
Shadow was her name.
Gorgeous boy, your skin shines in the sun’s golden hour.
Waves of your jet-black hair, short-cropped like Caesar's
dripping tendrils on a chiseled brow, wisps beside each ear
A bare-chested Apollo cycles in low-slung shorts.
Waves of your jet-black hair, short-cropped like Caesar's,
my ardeur imagines eyes a molten sapphire blue.
A bare-chested Apollo cycles in low-slung shorts,
calves taunt, thigh muscles pumping, a true stallion.
My ardeur imagines eyes a molten sapphire blue.
surely, the night sky is less beautiful than your eyes,
Legs with calves taunt, thigh muscles pumping, a stallion,
lovely man-child, whose dreams will you soon make true?
Surely, the night sky is less beautiful than your eyes.
Dripping tendrils on a chiseled brow, wisps beside each ear,
lovely man-child, whose dreams will you soon make true?
Gorgeous boy, your skin shines in the sun’s golden hour.
An alchemical raven's gray rhapsody awakens those cynical roses who
Breathe-in the ebony beams of blood-bathed sun, exhaling
Cacophonies that ricochet across these truthful horizons where,
Depressive roars embalm Lilith's lawns. Awash with smoked prairies and
Equinoctial secrecy, my neon lips swathe in life's witchy lies, for -
Flames of fury, lace every lead feather of the pewter crow, that feasts on beliefs.
Grieving charcoal stars swing like souvenirs of deceit when,
Heartbeats of hibiscus moon, shiver and shatter upon my schizophrenic
Ink, carving betrayals in asphalt ashes. "Am I a
Jewel of jinx, floating like a jet-black jasmine across
Kohl orchards?" - whispers time's wistful rebirth in the
Lachrymose lake of death, as conspiracies entwine in cyan cobwebs within
Medusa's redstone heart, tumbling at my tulip-tombstone.
Now, nebulous blackbirds, rise from corbeau cinders, as
Onyx wings of resilience have torn apart and
Pierced every sheath of shimmering faith - surrendering to the
'Queen of darkling serendipity', as her clemency clenches me onto the cusp of
Rhetoric valleys and winds pirouette with a pirate's porcelain wave,
Silencing the saffron of my soulful sculpture, in eternal streams of fall.
Thornless fate has forevermore, been an insomniac illusion and maybe,
Ultraviolet elegies of saturn's rings will become a noose for my dreams and
Viola orbs will encase every dove-dawn in a woeful chrysalis,
When anxiety's darkling dungeon, spreads across rustic realms and
Xanthic Satan dethrones my poinsettia-crown, as survival holds onto the
Yarns of last crystal light within Cleopatra's claustrophobic hope. But in the
Zillionth moment - my heart shall wail in rhymeless refrain - am I the one, lost?
Pele, Goddess of Fire
First fire surges from the inner Earth.
Island waters greet the fire goddess
Risen from Earth's fiery core, her birth,
Endows with lava, land from her first kiss.
Exploding from a volcanic shower
Earth spews fire as Pele emerges...
Her hair glows golden in the twilight hour,
Streaming slowly as her passion surges.
Gracefully she moves and quietly creeps
On her burning path toward silver sea.
Wanting all things that she covers, she keeps.
Pele's steamy kisses saved for the sea.
Sorrow's shadowed Pele for timeless years.
Sadness is seen in her ebony tears.
April 30, 2016
ELEMENTS Part 4: Fire - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Brian Davey
*Pele's hair is a form of lava. It is named after Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of volcanoes. It can be defined as volcanic glass fibers or thin strands of volcanic glass (Shimozuru, 1994). The strands are formed through the stretching of molten basaltic glass from lava, usually from lava fountains, lava cascades, and vigorous lava flows.
*Pele's tears
Pele’s tears is a geological term for small pieces of solidified lava drops formed when airborne particles of molten material fuse into tearlike drops of volcanic glass. Pele’s tears are jet black in color and are often found on one end of a strand of Pele's hair. Pele's tears is primarily a scientific term used by volcanologists.
IF YOU CAN SPARE JUST A COUPLE MINUTES COPY AND PASTE. THIS LINK INTO YOUR BROWSER. I IS JUST AWESOME:
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=fire+goddess+pele%27s+beginning&&view=detail&mid=046A3A192A412F3A5E2D046A3A192A412F3A5E2D&FORM=VRDGAR
http://www.coffeetimes.com/pele.htm (Story of Goddess Pele)
Going through some old things that just had to go,
I came upon something that nearly got tossed.
Memories came to me from long ago. . . .
I thrilled that my treasure was no longer lost.
Toys come and toys go. In the 60’s, one fad
was to own an odd doll not seen much today.
This doll had long hair and was scantily clad
but wasn’t a Barbie with which I would play!
Its body was squat and it had a pug nose.
I probably loved it because it looked droll.
Its hair could be orange, green, yellow or rose,
but if you don’t know yet, that doll was a troll!
How I wish I could dredge up some memory
to know what was happening inside my head
as a pre-teen with friends and what it might be
that we did with those dolls and what fun things we said!
The trolls that I owned must have been at least four -
both sexes so they'd make a small family -
their hair different hues, each a doll to adore.
But one day they no longer mattered to me. . .
I can’t say where all of my playthings got stashed.
When I left for college, they vanished from view.
But knowing my mom, they must have got trashed.
She doesn’t hang on much to things like I do.
Now four decades later, I looked at my prize,
bare naked and smudged but its hair still jet black.
It stared up at me with its cute amber eyes.
I couldn’t believe how I got that thing back!
It somehow had ended up in my new state.
Good luck for that troll, I throw few things away!
That doll would be learning soon of its new fate
and meet other troll dolls with whom it would stay.
Just like Peter Pan, I refuse to grow old,
and new trolls I’d bought with long bright spiky hair
when troll dolls again in the 90's were sold!
But I had to recall where I’d stored them….. oh, where??
(I found the dolls and added the old one to the new collection,
but my daughter's family moved in with me a few months ago.
My daughter is a clean freak like MY mom is (apparently it skips
a generation or something), and my daughter took my troll dolls
and put them out of sight somewhere so currently they are floating
around who knows where!
For Paula Swanson's "Yard Sale" Contest
I'm thirsty - I needed a drink
There lurking in my kitchen sink
Lying flat on his back
He’s no longer jet black
A hedgehog…now he doesn't stink!
11th April 2015
Life is in pieces of black and white
Like a chessboard
The moonlight shines through darkness of night
Like a barcode
~
Noah chose a raven, then dove
Bad luck or peace?
A bride in white dressed in pure love
Black mourn decease
~
The penguin and the zebra
The snow leopard
White tiger and the panda
Monochrome weird
~
Milk boils when it is heated
Tar melts when hot
Cotton flies, wool is seated
Coal heats the pot
~
I print all of these lines
In jet black ink
On a white sheet designed
To make you think
02/21/17
I looked in the mirror and all I could see was the pain of loss,
draped in jet-black dress with a veil of gloom on my face.
I tried to smile hard but all I could see was a forced on gloss
dabbed on my lips to hide the bitter truth of grief's trace.
I endured the sufferings of life but this was a misery of death
digging the grave of my love imprisoned in a wooden case.
I tried to joke it off but my laughter was soaked in tear's depth
drowning my joyous memories of him in whirlpool of distress.
I believed the idea to live happily ever after with him on my side
dolloped with love but losing him broke my faith in shards.
I tried to flee from feel of a widow but my mourning couldn't hide;
drab heart of mine is like his cenotaph desolated and marred.
Date: 01/20/2017
Note: For the contest (Form E) by Broken Wings.
*Placed Third*
The poem is true to elegy form but also a personification cause it personifies the character of a widow.
I miss you at the start of every day
I miss you when the stars come out to play
I miss you in the languid afternoon
I miss you in the blazing heat of noon
I miss you in my dreamless midnight hour
I miss you when I'm sad and life is dour
I miss you when I'm happy and at rest
I miss you when I think of all that's best
I miss you, dear, I miss those sparkling eyes
I miss that giggle and your girlish wiles
I miss your curly locks of jet black hue
I miss the dimpled beauty that is you
I miss you, girl, no one can heal this ache
If I don't see you soon, my heart will break
So come on home; have pity on my soul
It's only when you're near that Mama's whole.
Eileen Manassian
Soft, pastel-pink, aqua, sepia
Turning sharp, gold, striking
The sky is a willing canvas
Waiting to be kissed
By the palette of colours
Multi-shaded layers dapple the heavens
The pace of life is set to slow
Announced by the sleepy, restful sun
Her dying rays cast playful shadows
Open to interpretation!
Liquid gold outlines the classic oak tree
So near, and yet so far!
The firefly dances with excitement
Her luminous tail aglow
And the songthrush folds down her wings
Relaxing in the still warm air
Soft peach clings to the buildings
While strong apricot dresses the windows
From liquid gold to burnt orange
Now a mauve sheet covers the horizon
The crisp silhouette of the tawny owl
Graces the evening magenta sky
And the crickets begin their shrill song
Heralding the arrival of the long, dark night
Seductive winking stars and the creamy moon
Commence their clandestine romance
Wildlife dare not relax
Predators lurk in the jet black ether!
Gradually, the backdrop loses its ebony
And the scenery takes on an intense cobalt blue
The gentle dawn is slowly approaching
The softest lilac bedecks a fresh morning sky
Irridescent speckles espied through the laurel bush
Dewdrops like glass drape the orchid
Reflecting the fiery citrus blanket above
Before turning warm, cheerful lemon
And powder soft azure blue
This kaleidoscopic carpet starts its journey
On a never-ending cycle of wonder
Salted kisses
The ferocious rolling waves
Were broken by the shoreline
Into gentle caressing streams
Wet, fine, white sand grains
Gently scouring and washing with each new step
Left our feet spick-and-span
Glassy specks of sea salt crystals
Trapped in your jet black hair
Reflected the distant lights
In the glory of the full moon’s light;
A hundred tiny stars twinkling in your hair
The sparkle in your eyes; yet, unsurpassed
A black halo formed around your face
By your long hair, blown by the cold sea breeze
The longer tendrils gently brushing against my face
Your sweet fragrance gently wafted into my face
In my goose pimpled skin, I tingled
As our lips merged in a warm salty embrace
Tongues, moist and probing
In search of each other's sensual treasures
My desired eternity, glimpsed in an instant
Such long walks on the beach
A lifetime in a pleasant beach house
Fill my dreams of you and I
March 4, 2017
Put on your night shoes, my beautiful dear,
and put on your gossamer gown.
Adorn your neck with the iridescence
of opal, and let your hair down!
Your tresses cascading – a blonde waterfall -
let them flow! Then to emphasize
a chatoyant sheen, use the jet black
of liner on your jade green eyes!
On lips that are dulcet, use a soft pink
like cherry tree blossoms in spring.
Flourescence they’ll see with you on my arms,
for darling, you’ll be flowering!
Dinner; then on the pool deck we’ll Samba,
and under a plethora of
stars we see dancing above our cruise ship,
we will outshine them all with our love!
May 19, 2019 for Anthony Slausin's Night Shoes Poetry Contest
The hour of night unfolds before me like an origami shadow
and suddenly the stars outsource their light, the moon her glow
That dark and endless sky before my eyes is holding me in silence
sheltering my quietude with queried thought I ask, who are you ?
Dark shadows moving with paranormal photo lights
every planet in the sky including Mars ignites
Saturnian golden shades of amber filament bright
the hour of night unfolds giving me wish bullions of gold.
Far beyond reach the innocent child of wander that I once was
has left her stationary world of earth, her Alcatraz
that jet black place of deep that knows no boundaries calls
to me, you are who you say you are !
Luminescent angels of beauty and grace they hold the golden cup
belonging to Pharaohs of yesterday, Divine intermediaries
who brush through my soul like the breeze, airflow from heaven
an existential curiosity arises once more, where are we ?
December 29, 2022
Sponsor Edward Ibeh
Contest Name This or That, Vol 15 |