Best Leashed Poems
A setting Sun singes the edge of Earth,
stillness swiftly spreading over the ground.
And its receding rays give shadows girth,
swallowing the last lingering light found.
As Twilight fades, darkness begins to creep;
loosely leashed to an ebony tether.
And from the undergrowth, there's not a peep,
where Dusk gathers stray shadows together.
When the day shuts down, the stars start to show,
twinkling against a vast backdrop of black.
And the tides, in cobalt seas, ebb and flow,
while darkness welcomes a pitted moon back.
Awaiting Dawn's releasing rays of light;
Shadows, shackle silhouettes 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
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.
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.
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 setting sun singes the edge of Earth,
while receding rays give shadows their girth.
And darkness swiftly spreads over the ground,
swallowing any lingering light found.
Twilight summons shifting shadows to creep
through the undergrowth where whippoorwills sleep.
And Dusk gathers them tightly together,
loosely leashed to an ebony tether.
Liquid shadows begin to ebb and flow
as the day shuts down and time starts to slow.
And the night welcomes the starry skies back;
glittering against a backdrop of black.
Silhouettes silently merge with the night,
awaiting Dawn and Her first rays of light.
Yet, when the moon rises, shadows disperse,
exploring 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.
The
sun fills
dark outlines
in shades of black.
Stretched ebony shapes
that lie flat on the ground.
But tethered tight to your heels,
they stick by your side where you go.
Doomed always to be leashed underfoot,
shadows faithfully copy movements made.
Two-dimensional projections edge black
marking the boundaries of darkness.
Wakened by the first rays of dawn
they yawn into shifting shapes.
Wobbly charcoal etchings
that constantly drift
from wavy lines
to freestyle
funky
art.
(A Double Etheree Poem)
My new neighbor
a lovely ebony girl
we go together
like day and now night
a beautiful swirl...
She just wants a good man
no matter his past
or how many girls he's screwed
a handsome romantic man...
Do they all know we are together?
them against us
do they realize
we copulate in our dreams at night?
You curled up around me
like a chocolate ribbon
we become omnipresent
ears closed to the world..
We are much like
yin and yang
in guise of darkness
leashed at our sides...
Your brown sugar broth
rich dark and warm
skin black as the night sky
into my room smooth and sultry
scented of amber love potions
exotic fruit from Africa
perfected in America
step into my wildest desires...
~ ~ ~ ~
Leashed Down
Bound by my hands
Bound by my legs
Bound by my waist
Bound by my neck
I can't hear
I can't smell
I can't taste
I can't see
I put everything away and only thought of
What brought me joy.Nor do I want to
Cry leaving my captures to smile about
To gloat,to have that unknown brutal power
Over me which is held in one tear.
My body numb,my heart is stopped,my mind is blank
Is this dying? Why am I paralyzed? Could it be falling a sleep?
These chains are cold but everything is hot.What feeling beside
Pity would become of me?..Be it not grief not sadness not even remorse.
But as I stand up from this seat,I am nothing more then a well mannered
Pup on a tight leash.
Chaucer wrote, "... thy tongue shouldst thou restrain."
There is truth in his words for a vile one can cause pain.
A sword unsheathed from its scabbard can pierce a heart.
In like manner, a wicked tongue can tear a friendship apart.
No matter how the teeth bite the tongue before it speaks,
if allowed to talk freely, emotional havoc it often wreaks.
Each word can be a bullet shot from a combative tongue,
delivering a verbal assault when ugly words from it is flung.
Be mindful of the sharp weapon your tongue can wield
because it's capable of wounding those without a shield.
Foul words can't be returned once they've been spewed.
Control its abusive actions by having a change of attitude.
Don't allow it to run wild then say, "It was my tongue's fault."
Control the cruel beast, to say least, and rein it in to a halt.
Scripture says the tongue has the power of life and death,
so do not allow it to define you. Stop and take a deep breath.
Words burn whether whispered, hissed or shouted in scorn,
weighing heavily in the air, leaving the innocent feeling torn.
A tongue can crush both spirit and soul and tell a twisted tale.
Keep it leashed inside your mouth and pleasantries will prevail.
The Saga of Zack Waverly continues By JT Curtis
In The Affair Of The
Lost Soul Saloon
While sliding off my horse
Not a soul could be found
As I paused for a moment
to take a look around
My horse was acting nervous
So, I leashed him to a rail
Then dusted off the remnants
Of the days spent on the trail
I've been about a week
without a whisky or a brew
and the way I'm feeling lately
there ain't nothing else that'd do
So, I moved my heavy legs
As I stumbled cross the street
then barged through the doors
and made a beeline for a seat
A cloud of dust erupted
as I fell into a chair
and when it all had settle
only silents filled the air
Where is everyone
where's the music, where's the crowd
I was thinking to myself
Then I said it, right out loud.
Page 1 to be continued.......