Best Lengthened Poems
Muted evidence proclaimed the subtle oddities of night
Lunar time should have reached the zenith of its height
No chirping crickets were heard, nor angry feline brawls
Lacking was the rhythmic chanting of nocturnal owl calls
No lengthened shadows grew where they should be cast
The moon, in pale depression, had only risen half mast
Strange and sullen manner, for summer's interlude to end
As though it were lamenting the loss of a beloved friend
Not just physical in nature, but with heartfelt immortal pain
Darkened was the dead of night for one whose love was slain
In grief there is no consolation, the future bleak and ominous
but there remains a hunger for love, one intensely ravenous
One summer day, enraptured by the Goddess Sea,
King Sun shone down with all his might; most splendidly
he moved the Goddess, for she rippled laughingly
a shimmering reply to Sun in azure sky,
and while reflecting that same hue where King Sun dwelt,
her turquoise ripples lengthened, for the goddess felt
herself now rising up with joy. Wave after wave
was leaping, frothing. . . as King Sun more strongly gave
his final rays to her. Then he descended low
that he might kiss the lovely Sea on earth below -
to kiss her soon before the last day’s shadows fell,
and so he touched her where she’d let her body swell.
With yellow gold, his final glow, he bathed her face,
but when the night arrived with sable colored lace
to drape the goddess, Sun had vanished from all sight;
below Sea’s depth he’d sunk - to love her through the night.
For Suz's "Let's Be Open" poetry contest and now for
PD's Anything Goes Contest
A year ago, the Russian state launched an unprovoked attack
Seizing land from Ukraine but they've bravely fighting back
If Russia can't have it, they operate a policy of scorched earth
And turn many towns and villages into mounds of rubble and dirt.
Russia then weaponised their gas and shipments of grain
And tried to inflict on the civilian people unbearable pain
His criminal army targets hospitals, schools, homes and utilities
He thought the Ukrainians would surrender, rather than freeze.
He tells the Russian people lies and many believe every word
And he tells them he's protecting Russia ;I find that absurd
We've seen evidence of his atrocities against women and men
And it's heart-breaking to see pictures of murdered children.
Ukraine was never a bold threat to that rogue terrorist state
Putin thought the west would leave the Ukrainians to their fate
How wrong was he to think the western world would look away
They're helping Ukraine defend itself and NATO leads the way.
Russia's ancient equipment and army are no match for the west
And to help Ukraine defend itself it is supplying weapon's the best
The Russian dead pile up on battlefields but Putin doesn't care
And hides away in the safety and comfort of his underground lair.
Wagner mercenaries recruited from jails to increase Russian might
Told their sentences will be lengthened if they don't go and fight
The dregs of Russian humanity are now sent to the eastern front
Together with inexperienced conscripts who now bear the brunt.
Russia is asking for weapons from North Korea, China and Iran
If China supplies them weapon's then their trade we should ban
People say Ukraine should concede land so that the war will end
But Russia has shown its evil dark side and will never be a friend.
Putin keeps threatening to use weapons of mass destruction
And has now backed out of treaties and increased production
Does he honestly think that the western world will stand by
If he launches just one, then you can be sure the west will reply.
Vladimar Putin started this war and there is no one else to blame
He is a disgrace to humanity and should hang his head in shame
Decent Russians and there are many should topple him for his crime
And his war criminal army arrested and either hung or serve time.
Gene stood. Skyscraper demanding. Cold steel.
Thirty-five hard years. Over now. Just like that.
Corrugated box. Family photo. Timex watch.
Bitter coffee.
Stale sweat.
He walked out. Sun blaze. Fireball. Air thick.
Sidewalk. Familiar corner. Man there.
Black skin. Weathered face. Cardboard sign.
Gene stopped. Eyes met. Silent understanding.
"Seen you," the man said.
Gene nodded. "Fifteen and a half years."
"Never spoke."
"No. Never did."
Gene sat. Concrete cracked. Chill. Hands trembling.
"Lost everything," he said, eyes downcast.
Shame heavy. Guilt girded.
The man waited. Silent. Eyes knowing.
"Wife. Cancer. Kids ghosted. Job now too."
Gene's voice cracked. "Wasted. Empty. Life."
The man reached down. Pulled out a bottle.
"Drink?" he asked.
Gene nodded. Took it. Swigged deep.
Bourbon burned. Good burn. Real.
"First honest thing. In years."
They sat. Shadows lengthened. City hummed.
Bottle passed. Back. Forth. No words.
Gene breathed. First time in years.
Bygone dreams. Flickered. Misty.
Husband. Father. Provider. Lost Purpose.
Night fell. Stars peeked. Traffic thinned.
Gene stood. Legs unsteady. Mind unclear
"Thanks," he said,
The man nodded. "Tomorrow comes" –
Gene stared out. Horizon blurred. “That was yesterday.”
Street light flickered. Old worn dress shoes.
A sound.
Empty bottle.
Spinning.
Parting gift. Timex.
Ticking...
A wash of gold adorns the westward sky
as waning light departs a summer’s eve;
in readiness to roost, crows cease to fly
and seek their resting place among the leaves.
Past toasted rooftops, twilight bids the sun
must softly slip away to realms afar,
with liquid grace, sun-kisses fall undone
and drench the dusk in honey-toned memoir.
Time lengthened shadows whisper to the moon,
enticing her to wear her slender smile.
With reticence, she answers to their tune,
enriching night’s black canvass for a while…
still wearing notes of summer-sweet bouquet,
recalled from painted echoes of the day.
Winter’s cold chill cuts through my chin.
Within its bleak and brazen embrace,
My brisk days are turned brief and barren.
They are lengthened into sordid sepulchral insomniac nights.
I slither and slip and am hurled into hibernation.
Once I stood with you immune to wanton winter’s wild whiplash.
You wrapped me warm from the wrath of winter’s whirlwind.
Our life moved in homogeneous harmony.
With one glaring glance from you, my heart hummed halcyon tunes.
I danced blissfully in tandem to your sweet soulful songs.
Your luminous, lambent light shone brightly,
Blazing the dark and desolate caves and crevices within me.
Now I stand and stay rooted like the trunk of a leafless tree,
Giving no shelter or shade to anyone.
With despondent dread and disappointment,
I watch the sap and serum in me going dry,
And the feathers on my wings wilt and wither like dead leaves.
With the flaming fire put out, winter has brashly barged into my life.
My lips once so eloquent now have fallen still and silent.
All the words I have carefully gleaned and garnered,
Have slipped and slid into a bottomless abyss, never to be heard again.
My lulling lyrics are replaced with the reverberating refrains of a lament.
An icy crystallization is speedily spreading,
Through my sentient soul like an ache, I have never known.
Grey cumulus clouds of pain have rolled into steal,
All light, luster and luminosity from my bright sky.
Now my world has cracked and crumbled into a bleak void of grey.
I twitch and tremble in cold as you have withdrawn your warmth.
A late realization has now daringly dawned outside my door.
I am not to perish and putrefy in this cold,
But be dauntless and dashing to fight, thaw and tread my way,
Battle the intense cold in flaming, flaring fires.
After every frosty and freezing winter, other seasons will arrive .
Summer is an inviolable and unassailable power within,
And in its warmth I can vanquish the chilling cold.
I shall wake up with a syrupy sweet song in my lips
And find myself in the luminous light of a dawning day!
Wisdom Tree
A solitary man
Makes his way up the mountain
One step at a time
The life he knows further and further behind
He wishes to be alone
Away from the busyness
The noise
Responsibility
Activity
Work that is never done
Conflict
The need to be in control
He reaches the mountain top
Sits down and crosses his legs
He looks out at the landscape
His village a small mass of thatched roofs
People unseeable
Smoke rises from a central fire
The lake so small
it looks like it can fit into a wooden spoon
The horizon surrounds him
He feels the pebbles beneath him
Blades of grass are myopically large
He watches as the ants toil
Are their lives not the same?
Seasons change
Summer to fall
winter to spring
He witnesses it all
His beard lengthened
As his mind enlarged
Secrets have been revealed
He’s disconnected yet part of all
The base of him grows into the ground
Others journey to the mountain top
Seeking his wisdom
They sit with him for a while
Never staying for long
Each person takes so that they may give
The wise man transformed
Arms outstretched
reaching to all the horizons
Now covered with leaves
The seasons continue to change
He sends his leaves down to the village
Beckoning them to the mountain
Not wanting to be alone
"Come sit beneath my branches
caress my bark smell my scent
know my soul."
He’s no longer is able to speak
All that he knows
resides in the rings of his seasons
Still he offers wisdom
Put your ear to his trunk
You can still hear his heart beat
His breath whistles through the leaves
His seeds cover your woolen coat
You are a solitary man
making your way down the mountain
One step at a time
Closer and closer to your village
To the ones you love
As you walk through the village
you shake the seeds off your coat
They fall on the fertile ground
The wise man
has finally come home.
She dwells in deep canyons cold and dark
To ponder a mystery that haunts her soul
Which leaves confusion and doubts in heart
The loss of confidence now takes its toll
To ponder a mystery that haunts her soul
Which renders sleepless hours through the night
The loss of confidence now takes its toll
A flower slowly dying withers in sunlight
It renders sleepless hours through the night
The days are lengthened, and she wastes away
A flower slowly dying withers in sunlight
Her sweet fragrance lost, forever and a day
The days are lengthened, and she wastes away
What could be this wrong which she has caused?
Her sweet fragrance lost, forever and a day
To fully grasp this puzzle she requires pause
What could be this wrong which she has caused?
What pain has she laid upon your heart?
To fully grasp this puzzle she requires pause
She dwells in deep canyons cold and dark
~*~
By: Audrey Carey-Haick
Note: For Paula Swanson's "Pantoum" Contest
My dear Beloved,
Night owl hoots at me again
beneath a ramp of clouds,
like cozy pillow to my moon
pinching this letter with anticipation
to tuck my ruffled mind away…
and in twilight’s dimming,
a music box of rain songs
frolics in slow, slow motion
through whiffs of a lengthened day,
discarding hours of your long absence
with scented climb of new spring.
Midway, a fading light and darkness,
passages of tomorrow float
as pages are to cotton leaves;
lingering in some trickles of ticks
while our orchids peep outside the sill…
and between teapot and lamp’s glow
the phone rings in a hush-a-bye,
chiming low, your breath wafts a sigh
to say how you love me in the dark…
oh, can fate allow this distance to end?
With deep fondness,
nette
-----
Love Letter Contest Of Heather Ober
You asked me to forgive you
Still you would cause me pain again
Your words rained down like daggers
Soaking my soul with so much pain
I know i was taught to forgive
It became harder every day
All the ways you had to hurt me
I was the game you loved to play
You had quite an imagination
The ways you would describe my demise
Thankfully I chose not to follow
Yours was a pathway paved with lies
In my mind I reinvented
Chose a future that was worthwhile
Yes I took a few steps backwards
Still moving forward all the while
As the gap between us lengthened
God took my heart and made it whole
Yes beginnings are important
I learned forgiveness plays a role
It was not so much about you
Or all the things that you had done
My healing could not be complete
Without knowing God's only Son
There is light beyond the darkness
Perhaps one day I will see your face
I hope you asked God for forgiveness
Your sins will be gone without a trace
If my Savior can forgive you
The way he has forgiven me
There is more to who you were
Than what I was able to see
I forgive you dad
The millwheel will not turn again till spring
for Winter’s icy cold grip holds it firm.
She squeezes it like Her private plaything,
though Her crushing power is but short-term.
As shorter days subtly lengthened; the sun
slowly began to liquefy the ice.
And the waterwheel shook, and almost spun,
while the miller posted his asking price.
Whispers ran through the town from door to door,
the ice is breaking up at the millpond.
And housewives could soon buy flour once more,
for each village, and its mill shared a bond.
The millwheel shimmies free from Winter’s grip,
shuddering as the water level peaks.
And as pressure increases drip by drip,
the pond ice melts, and the wooden wheel creaks.
(Quatrain)
6/26/2018
A COSTUME FOR THE CAT
Cat, my miniature human,
in a tiny costume of fur,
what would you wear if you would dare
to let such crazy thoughts occur?
Person, I wouldn’t wear your clothes,
or want any closets of shoes.
My own bare paws are fine. You saw
I don’t get foot blisters like you.
What stubby feet on your costume!
What short-fitting arms and legs, too!
You’d help yourself to things on shelves
if the limbs were lengthened for you.
Person, my person, don’t you see?
Reaching wouldn’t be the same.
Jumping is cool. Then I can rule
from high places. Now that’s my claim!
Kitty, in a costume like mine,
you can go to school, get a job!
Person, dear me! You still don’t see!
Now I don’t mean to be a snob,
but why do that when I’m the queen?
Your job’s to pet and feed me well!
I won’t pretend. I’m glad to spend
my Halloween time as myself!
October 16, 2020
I peer at myself in the mirror.
My forehead is nice though I like it covered with bangs.
Lines there are to be expected,
and so too, the crows’ feet at my eyes.
At the base of my forehead are dark brown brows.
They are the one aspect of my face
that I’ve deliberately and totally transformed.
No longer Brook Shield eyebrow lookalikes,
they have been plucked into the tamer form I desired.
My nose is the same long nose with its strange small hump
that I detested since my youth,
but I have learned to live with it.
Though I am not fond of my profile,
when I see myself straight on, I find my nose rather cute.
As with all things in my life that I learned to accept with time,
I now accept the length of my nose as a quality which gives it character.
My extradordinary Roman nose is part of who I am,
regardless of the fact I have no Italian blood!
When I really analyze my aging face,
I see that the weight of all my years has lengthened it.
My face was always long, but nicely oval.
It’s even longer now, thin, and just a tad droopy.
Yes, life has pulled it down,
and I’m not terribly pleased about that.
Chipmunk cheeks above smiling dimples
have given way for a somewhat more somber look
due to my laugh lines (no laughing matter)
having grown more defined.
Those deeper lines I think reflect
my having delved more deeply by now
into things of which fresh youth
can simply not conceive.
If I could use a veil,
my long-lashed eyes above it would seem the same
as I have remembered them since my guiless youth.
Their light, indistinct color (Grey? Green? Blue?)
stays forever lovely. Find me behind them.
There I am ageless.
Dec. 22, 2019
for the The Metaphor Of Your Face Poetry Contest of John Lawless
March 18, 2022 for 'A BRIAN STRAND 1092' Contest
The sea was calm, the shore silent,
No echoes resonated there,
A walk along the ocean meant
To cleanse the soul and lay it bare;
As shadows lengthened, they strolled on,
No feelings stirred, no words spoken,
What they had before was now gone,
What was left was all that's broken;
No memories rang through the shore,
No relationship left to care,
They drifted apart more and more,
No love echo returned to share.
alone he stands behind the plow
in footrace with the lengthened dawn
a shadow figure in the now
pursues the where and when and how
of unseen reins so slowly drawn
alone he stands behind the plow
each furrow’s end a prayerful bow
an homage paid – dark soil turned fawn
a shadow figure in the now
a twisted plowmans daily prowl
his dream - horizon’s distant pawn
alone he stands behind the plow
as rutted field and furrowed brow
leave in the mist the endless song
a shadow figure in the now
in answer to where, when, and how
sweet memories dark furrows spawn
alone he stands behind the plow
a shadow figure in the now
©1/16/2018
Contest: Villanelle Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter