Best Leashed Poems
The setting Sun singes the edge of Earth:
dimming down, any lingering light found.
And Sol's receding rays give shadows girth,
while ebony slowly engulfs the ground.
Twilight fades, and darkness begins to creep,
silently leashed to an ebon tether.
And from the undergrowth, there's not a peep,
as Dusk stitches silhouettes together.
While the day shuts down, stars begin to show:
twinkling against a drab backdrop of black.
And tides in a cobalt sea, ebb and flow,
while Gaia welcomes a pitted moon back.
Awaiting Dawn's releasing rays of light;
shifting shadows are shackled to the night.
A bird sings.. mawkish
Sings and dances smooth
She... by doing so
has naturally
forgotten her world.
Soars high upwards
aims to touch moon
but sadly can't..
falls back in nest
the bird is
unable
to achieve
her dreams..
being
"leashed".
15-5-2020
~DEEPA~
Placed as Honorable Mention in the Contest.
Note1:*Diminished Hexaverse Poetry Contest*
Sponsor:Emile Pinet
Placed as Honorable Mention in the Contest.
Note 2:STRAND no 770 any theme any form'
Poetry Contest sponsored by Brian Strand.
Birds
Rabbits
Red tailed hawks
Little chipmunks
Gorgeous butterflies
Feral cats cute kittens
Crazy tiny fast squirrels
Most majestic cool dragonflies
Some dogs leashed other dogs unbridled
Silent but smart, steady and swift barn owls
Animals creating euphoria
Compassionately loving partners
Nature's eloquent beautiful
Serene equilibrium
Like roseate brushstrokes
Upon heart's canvas
Humanity
Harmony
Cherish
Life
You were T
^ h ^
A e R
N O
C H
v
When reality was unmoored and adrift
When life’s harshest winds ripped a rift
When ominous clouds loomed overhead
When anger leashed gloom tinged red
You were a ( ( (( VOICE )) ) ) of reason
When kindness and healing was sparse
When probable friendships were a farce
You gave me hope, you kept me grounded
When rebound of love’s alarms sounded
You are a J
E W E
L of the sea
A whirling tsunami washed you ashore
A precious rock, I’d come to adore
Like colorful sea glass, I’m eased by you
A gem of a gift gallant and true
A treasured heart about to unfurl
I’m destined to be your pearl of a girl
Earth trots
Behind the meandering
Leashed by their anxieties
And we in silence
Cannot tell of our perplexities
This age
Is too politically correct
And will not stand
Such truths
There is no lattitude for correction
No urgency
To mend fences
'Fore the frivolous forays of destruction
The seeming acquisition of intellect
Is nothing more than brawn of tongue
Defending the flimsy vulnerabilities
Of hoisted egos
A status quo of exhibitions
The panting tongue
Exalting empty ambition
Tempestuous slobbering
It is such a sensitive subject
Our fragile self esteem
And the earth
At dog school.
"Do people really change or just the date on the calendar that really changes???" By Poet
"In the mists of your eyes,"
I found raw passion.
As I talk to you,
you "Burn me with your love poison."
I cannot go on like this,
you are tearing me apart.
I hope one day,
"I will find you beyond the stars."
In a peaceful and loving world,
as we live separately.
Maybe we were not meant to be together,
just sailing on the blue waters.
"Where the sky drifts into the sea,"
where we both can find ourselves.
I will let you go now.
"Leashed to your dusk."
h u r t me…
with your deadly devotion,
leave lethal love-bites
across pulsing pages…
I ache to wear the burning blaze
of your rhymes around my neck,
to be choked by poetic desire,
to be punished with personified fire…
but what is a jewel
without your touch?
there is no gold ~ free-falling
from outer space,
deeper than sparks rising higher,
in tune with the mercury madness,
the cosmos of craving ~
taste this undying thirst
for ethereal union,
wrist to wrist, poem to poem,
ink to ink, skin to skin,
lips locked in longing,
as I yearn for eternal rest ~
knowing that when
I return, you’ll still be there,
willingly mine, evermore,
leashed to my Stygian stars,
O beloved blue moon rarity,
my Orpheus of musical silver,
where the throb of Eurydice
echoes like the pain of passion
I cradle within ~ heaven’s roses
bruised by obsession,
throned in an orchard of thorns
where every petal bleeds
the fragrance
of fatal fidelity ~
surrender
to my fixated fantasy,
worship the warmth of want,
as I slip into the
void of this endless black,
swallowing the ambrosia
from your acidic tongue
that drips venom and verses,
hauntingly hypnotizing
with the wet
heat of a rain-soaked lyre,
where we will be reborn
from the underworld ashes
of ghost-glazed diamonds…
I crave to be the cluster of reasons,
the wedded widow,
still gowned in viper’s devouring,
chained in anklets jeweled
with jinxed jade,
dragging me down a realm
of the unspoken
parts of the underworld ~
oblivious to the earthly creatures
crawling through coldness…
I am smoothly strangled
by the symphonic sentiments
of a loyal liaison,
an epic obedience,
that made the angels of life and death
weep and sleep
to the sound of defiant dews
of a reckless romance ~
for love seeps from curling
words into a
floundering bloodstream,
tying fanatic temptation
to the corpse tunes of gothic twilight…
The Bulldog leashed, back in his yard.
It's time for rest, he played his card.
The job at hand, has now been done.
He now shows peace, for everyone.
Be still young heart, you've earned your rest.
You fought the fight, you gave your best.
Peaceful thoughts, they now will reign.
We now can write, all free from pain.
The noble ones, they lay and wait.
Behind the scenes, they watch their bait.
They watch and wait recording all.
They may be quiet, but fake the fall.
Enjoy the Sun, this Dog's forecast.
Enjoy this treaty, I hope to last.
This loyal friend, knows not surprise.
The Bulldog keeps, a watchful eye.
Can you see me here, my dear?
I wane like an autumn day,
and ~leashed to your dusk~
I fade . . . .
So sadly I’m fading away.
You are my sun, the only one,
my everything for me.
You vanish warmth, and trembling
I stand
~where sky drifts into sea.~
Each time you leave, I grieve.
For sunrise I then yearn.
~I will find you beyond
the stars~
if by dawn you do not return.
The songs I urge for,
hold the heaviness you breathe in to me,
How you paint poetic parallel pieces,
in a porcelain poison photography,
Place the gate of my fingers,
on your chaotic contradictions,
Let them explore vigorously
Beneath and beyond the boundaries of what could be,
In a room full of our piercingly powerful dreams,
Let us be the object to these unfinished tasks
taken to treat our new found ecstasy,
So choose us, between hell and earth.
and with fire, flirt with my demons
that profusely starve for you,
Bursting into our very own heaven ,
written from the tales of our souls,
Carve me, for I too have held wounds,
Hurt me , because you hurt too,
Shall we sing our pain
in an unstoppable sonata?
I see the beauty in the orchestra,
It’s untamable, yet leashed,
Irresistible, although weak,
You are a dangerous dare,
I could never share,
The addiction , your words
have brought on to me.
The image of beast doesn’t know
being an image of formidable foe
he is hindrance to his own essence glow
the pride of life is but parasitic show
The fact in the parasitic show
is the fact that doesn’t know
true fact hidden in ones essence glow
the fact is, the lower fact can never know(C. I Cor. 2:14 KJV)
True fact of the fact is God speed
cannot be known of concept greed
the seed of essence God speed
shall never be know of serpent seed
When a fact is a temporal fact
like an out of whack sacroiliac
intertwined to the human back
concept fact knows not essence of fact
A beast doesn’t know he’s a beast
for of his own concepts he feasts
not knowing he’s gruesome beast
a counterfeit within Love’s feast
Why in the world is there beast…?
the fall in the garden from peace
living in a wilderness un-fleeced
the beast doesn’t know he’s beast…
of his own creation un-fleeced!
A beast un-leashed is never at peace
a beast unleashed is free mind un-fleeced
the human beast doesn’t know he’s a beast
a mind un-fleeced, without Precept peace
When and why is a beast a beast…?
Love’s free-will of human mind un-leashed…
`Tis human concepts, not Precept that un-leashed
the human beast… proof that Love is at peace…
Worldly concepts are of individual free-wills
the beastly natures are of the human spills
love doesn’t will the beastly human deals
but gives space to common human ills,…
purposed to learn Love’s will…
Love spills, seal Love’s deal…
a beast is a beast
of concepts’ feast
did not come from true east..
Selah
She lived inside a hut within the wood-
a strange and lovely woman, nature’s child.
They said she was a witch, but she was good,
a friend to all the creatures of the wild.
The solitary wolf she’d come across,
though wounded, was a living work of art.
He lay beneath the moon with coat of gloss
and eyes that sadly shone; he stole her heart.
He loved her; she admired his grace and might,
and so she sorrowed when he howled with pain,
for when the swollen moon glowed in the night,
she had to keep him fettered with a chain.
That true and feral beauty that she leashed -
was strangely what first drew her to the beast.
For the Paranormal Poetry Contest of Robert James Liguori
A scarlet sun singes the edge of Earth,
receding rays giving shadows their girth.
And a darkness descends over the ground,
swallowing any lingering light found.
Twilight summons shifting shadows to creep
through the undergrowth, where whippoorwills sleep.
And Dusk lashes them tightly together,
loosely leashed to an ebony tether.
Liquid shadows appear to ebb and flow
as Day shuts down and time begins to slow.
And night skies welcome the twinkling stars back;
glittering against a backdrop of black.
Silhouettes silently merge with the Night,
awaiting Dawn and the first rays of light.
And as Luna rises, shadows disperse,
exposing new horizons to traverse.
The air is crisp, cold weather
that you can sink your teeth into.
It's midwinter with a brief break
between rainy weather fronts.
My fat limping dog and I have
got to get out of the house and
find some wildness.
He lets me know of his happiness
and I ignore his comment about hypocrites
as I put his leash on and
he drags me down the trail.
"How will we ever find wildness
under these conditions?"
he barks at me.
"Maybe this time boss?
Maybe this time you will let go?"
We walk down the trail by
the storm swollen stream and
hear the same question posed in the air.
The storm stream tries hard to break free
and wreck havoc, but,
the well engineered cement banks
give it nothing to grab hold of and it
careens on past to the sea, harmlessly.
The river's only hope to spread wildness
is another storm to raise its banks.
The grass above the banks is all of a kind,
easily mowed, and no threat to the asphalt
path we walk.
There is some hope of wildness
in the windblown debris
left over from the storm.
Perhaps seeds of a hardier folk
will move in among the grasses and
the perfect line of trees
that border the trail.
Such strangers will have to hide
and take cover before the caretakers
of the trail arrive tomorrow.
They will efficiently find all wildness
from the storm and make sure that
it is all discarded and hauled to the dump.
Perhaps I am looking for nature
in all the wrong places.
Here it has been collared and leashed
and rendered docile.
Still it fights back.
My hopeful dog directs my attention to the stream
and points to an otter that sinks when I look.
"Maybe this time, boss?" he implores.
Overhead, three noisy geese, free as you please,
as insolent as if they were twenty,
announce their imminent landing
at the county water control pond.
Not all of us are on a leash yet.
At sunset on the gray suburban street,
The only sounds are sounds of scraping feet.
My dog and I tread slowly on the black
Asphalt. I feel something is pulling back
The leash; my dog has found a treasure trove:
A mailbox, where the people come and go.
Though she would like to stay and smell all night,
I pull her back and walk with all my might.
But, as I think of all that I must do,
The early spring wind pulls me back into
My jacket, where I rather would not hide
When in nature's beauty I could preside.
Though in the darkness it was hard to tell,
I realize, now, that I am leashed as well.