Best Layer Poems
Barriers broken,
Words unspoken
Cant let you in
My skins to thin
My hands are bare
Sweat covers the
Fear.
A layer taken,
Starting to break in
My thoughts are shaken
I cant breath...
Im sinking slowly
I have to leave
The door is closing
Im slowly choking.
Your prescence is
provoking
Intoxicating.
Another layer taken
Nothing faking.
Im slipping in silence
Weakened in shyness
Butterflies, fluttering,
Anxious, nervous
Whenever your near.
A layer has just again,
Disappeared
Your touch is tender
Passionate, intense.
Im breathless, blinded
Have no defense.
I cant deny what I feel
Inside
Although I hide.
A layer subsidies.
This is heavy, I love you
So much.
I scream with emotion,
Each time we touch.
You have pulled me out
I have, let you in.
I have never experienced
This feeling.
Vulnerable no longer,
My heart secured.
My love crys with
Happiness
No longer a layer
A layer no more
This was originally, meant to be a song.
I wrote
Inspired by a song I love
Colour blind ,,by counting crows:)
contest: new poets
Posted 6/ 14/ 2013
Seven- layer -cake
Fudge-chocolate on top, sides
Mother in kitchen
I am a spirit
I shatter the dis-ambience of the country
with a flick of my fingers
a stone dashes for a ridge
with a tender tickle
trees rattle their drum branches
with the tip of my pinkie
I raise a rainbow to its potential
with the grasp of my hand
a tornado chews up cows
the length of my limbs
hurls waves towards their certain demise
my breath gives a sigh
to the wearied sheep dog
luxuriating atop a fenced-in hill
I was human once.
Do I perpetuate nature
out of resentment
or from kindness
It’s sure I’m invisible
but you’ll feel me
as hail strikes your bare neck
as long as I see the sky ~ all life’s protected by an ozone ply
A LITTLE LAYER
OF HAPPINESS
IT'S SOMETIMES LIKE
A CAKE WITHIN
IT ALWAYS BEARS
A MOLD
WITHOUT IT LEAVES
YOU QUIET
WITH WISHES
FROM CARES
YOU HOLD
A LAYER
OF FROSTING
OF LIFE
A SLICE OF LOVE
AND CHEER
A HEART THAT KNOWS
EACH DAY TO TRUST
AWAY FROM THE
KNIVES OF FEAR
A LITTLE LAYER
OF HAPPINESS
IT'S LIKE A MOUTH
THAT FEEDS
AND WITH EACH
OPENING
A TRUE REPOSE
IT MEETS US
IN OUR NEEDS
A LITTLE LAYER
OF HAPPINESS
OF A HEART
THAT HOLDS
IT'S OWN
SO LIKE A CAKE
THAT WE CAN
TAKE
IT NEEDS A HEART
A HAPPY HOME
A LITTLE LAYER
OF HAPPINESS
LIKE A CAKE
FROM THE MOLD I
IT STANDS
NOT TO BE MISSED
IT CAN BE KISSED
WITH HEARTS
AND HELPING
HANDs
SO BE A
HEALTHY EATER
OF DREAMS
OF HOPES
WITH PLANS
LET A LITTLE LAYER
OF HAPPINESS
BE THE RECIPE
OF 'HOWS' AND
'CANS'
AND SET ASIDE
THE MYSTERY
OF MIXES
THE MAKERS
CHOOSE
JUST TAKE
A BITE OF
HAPPINESS
THAT YOU
NEVER
COULD
OR
SHOULD
REFUSE
ALEX E. NELSON
FOR B-
JANUARY
2015
Big Job
There's a big job breaking out
Time for smelling salts and focus
There is no magic wand this time
No top-hat hocus pocus
Time to wheel out heavy gear
Flex our muscles and get busy
Pick ourselves a loyal team
With dreams so high they're dizzy
There's a big job breaking out
And it's clear we need to fix this
Sticking plasters just won't do
For this world defining crisis
Labourers to garden,
Experts in their field
Anyone who cares enough
To bring this crop to yield
Shoulder to the grindstone
Knuckles cracked and ready
Wrestle with the challenges
And climb to heights so heady
Engineers and carpenters
Housewives, teachers, leaders
No time to waste. No shirking off.
Ask everyone to heed us
There's a big job breaking out
Blue lights are flashing by
Too much plastic in the ocean
No more ozone in the sky..
We need healers for creation
For neglecting all our duty
The reflection may be ugly
So it's time to bring back beauty
Jinjagoliath
10th February 2021
The poet begins the reading
'I'm sentimental if you know what I mean.'
'Oh, that's good!'
I thought about this cuckoo hissing
At the Botanical Gardens
He'd also mediated on the stratosphere
That sponge up above
Accordingly, so did I too
Footslogging around the museum
I took a sufti at my phone by the toilets
A headline caught my attention
Liverpool to sack Jürgen Koop
Kooped up in this nightmare exhibition
We came across a giant redwood
The trunk constructed out of metal
To enlighten the children
To prepare them for the future
My son explains his steam engine
A whole troupe of burly men
Black soot and freezing cold snow
Three layers of woollen jumpers
Sod the blast pipe carbon dioxide
Your Austrian Giesl burp
There are bigger concerns
Than soil degradation
Yes, the fireman is wearing clothes
The shoveller is wearing clothes
But the driver is naked
The molding of the outter layer,
Shifts gears to be a player.
In a space filled deep,
The hills climbed are steep.
As the human race explodes,
The facts are on the roads,
With what direction chosen by one,
Shaping their life until it's done.
Life has more than looks and money,
Death parts and takes all; one can see.
The meaning of life is real easy; listen.
Keep honest to all; glisten.
If you think you're better,
Look closer at each other.
The mind holds the knowledge,
The body takes the pledge,
But the heart and soul have faith and courage,
Which are what is remembered at the ledge.
Some may flaunt or flee away,
Others go right through each day.
Remember the moments and who you are,
And don't part away too far,
From the meaning of your presence here,
Each of us are bigger then our fear.
The light for success can be touched; reach,
It's about learning; become what you teach.
So with hold the thoughts that aren't positive,
Use the outter layer to do it; but the inner to live.
the dragon's breath upon my neck that wreaks of rotten flesh that lingers
from fear to courage i un-sheath my sword laden with jewels crafted by dwarvin fingers
the sound of magic from my sword the echoeing cave walls bend
as inflations in my lungs fill up with gusts of breathless wind
the feast of my flesh or the slaying of the dragon soon shall begin
the pounding of my heart and the will to survive shall overcome my fear within
the battle begins in a darken dungeon where light shines through the fire
where skeleton upon skeleton many a knights have stood there and retired
to face an advesary so great delights in glory so desired
many have stood before the flames their souls set on fire
but a vicious thrust from hand to heart the scaley skin is pierced
severed into several parts the dragons will is fierce
but alas the mighty foe has fallen giving his magic to the slayer
and soon the temple of the knight becomes the dragons layer ;)
Green eyes penetrate my cloudy layer
She exposes my humble compassion
Passion passes through me, love I harbor
Green eyes penetrate my cloudy layer
No way to measure, no way to figure
Lips excite me, fills me with expression
Green eyes penetrate my cloudy layer
She exposes my humble compassion
Russell Sivey
I no longer want to be a child, for those years carry a thick layer of forgotten dust,
where every corner hides a room where I learned to forget how to breathe,
and memories are like shadows dancing silently on the walls of time.
Returning would mean shattering myself on the same silent and cold corners,
on the same sharp edges that once sculpted me, leaving me empty.
The truth is I barely escaped the labyrinth of those days, barely surviving,
and I wouldn't want to go back, to fight again for a fragile and trembling existence.
It's as if I'm walking on a glass bridge, looking down at the depths of the past,
where each step could crack the illusion of hard-won safety and tranquility.
I've learned to build a mosaic of the present from shards, to look
forward, with eyes open to the daylight that promises new beginnings and hopes.
In this flow of thoughts and sensations, the past remains a whispered story,
an echo of a silent struggle, but the present is a song of freedom and rediscovery,
where I've learned to breathe again, without fear, without losing myself anymore.
Each lived moment is a victory, a new page in a book that's continuously being written,
and I, a traveler through my own story, choose to step forward, to create my future.
Scrape away, at a life. You just weren’t given any real instructions –
so, you scrape like a carpenter
at grey washed walls, wanting
to peel off old paint – old memories,
in your head you scrap away
the talk back – that little
squirrel inside the trunk of your head
it scrapes.
You scrape and scream, you scrape and
feel the muscle of your right hand
figure the page into
something. You scrape
days and trash them. Who
will find them? Who cares that you scrape
while in labor? scrape every morning you wake –
scrape on body, scrape on heart, scrape on this
bloody life
until you just can’t scrape –
The Layer Cake
We are a skewed birthday cake,
generations of lopsided layers
baked badly by ancestors
of fervent but defective intent,
teetering atop the stale and dried out.
The layers descend into the past,
inedible and mostly forgotten
while we the temporary top deny
bad ingredients and tiltings
and frosting with crème cruel.
We concoct the next tier
with hope and even love
but use a cookbook specifying
flour of custom and bias
and spices of mistakes.
It is a mighty wonder
that the cake still stacks
and those just set in place
don’t slide off to extinction
on the icing of our failings.
Embedded beneath the subconscious layer,
when the nascent eyes open to the first light
as mortal journey begins with nothing in sight,
the call waits with ordained words, ‘come here’.
The call lies dormant and unheard deep within,
as the murmuring stream of life flows slowly by,
the cacophony of time mounts on the pitch high,
the words lurk behind the music of mind serene.
The inescapable echo of the call would articulate,
when at timed appointment with destiny fearsome
the clock is coded to stop, would finally come
with the call ‘come’ that would silently resonate.
When all sounds would dissolve in silence at sunset,
the toiled eyes would close on the seraphic light,
turning into the lighthouse beacon shining bright,
the caller would finally beckon at the end of wait.
Another ethereal journey would then begin forlorn
for the soul to merge with the entity, the ultimate,
to be transformed into the eternal blissful state
in the sublime realm of euphoria, yet unknown.
Written : August 17, 2019
May 25, 2020
Contest : Brian's Choice T
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Father’s love is overflowing
in this land of forgotten sorrow
He offers bottom layer of love
Top layer he says are infectious
Markets can suffer with them
For his offspring he prepares
A layer of grits, soot and dirt
At bottom of saucepan he gives
To him they fatten his children
Healthy shining children he wants
He’s amused with balloon cheeks
Happy with hanging bellies
Celebrates malnourished limbs
And clothes colonized by lice
Its colony signifies future riches
But when one shouts complains
He prepares homily to preach
To convert them to his head