Best Lengthens Poems
A solitary man
I make my way up the mountain
One step at a time
The life I know further and further behind
I wish to be alone
away from the busyness
the incessant noise
my many responsibilities
life’s never ending activities
work that is never done
all of life’s many conflicts
I reach the top
sit down and cross my legs
As I look out at the landscape
my village is a small mass of thatched roofs
the people barely seeable
I see smoke rising from a central fire
wondering if I will be missed
From this distance the lake appears so small
I imagine it fitting into a wooden spoon
The horizon surrounds me
stretching my eyes
distracting me from the pebbles beneath me
blades of grass are now myopically large
I watch as the ants toil
Are our lives not the same?
Seasons change
Summer to fall
Winter to spring
I witness it all
My beard lengthens as my mind enlarges
Secrets have been revealed
Disconnected yet I am a part of all
I grow downward into the ground
Others come to the mountain top
seeking wisdom
They sit with me for a while
never staying long
Each takes from me so that they may give
I am a man transformed
Arms outstretched reaching to all the horizons
covered with foliage
The seasons continue to change
I send my leaves down to the village
beconing them to come to the mountain
no longer do I want to be alone
"Come sit beneath my branches
caress my bark smell my scent
know my soul."
You come to the mountain top
But I am no longer able to audibly speak
All that I know resides in the rings of my seasons
Still you partake of my wisdom
Putting your ear to my trunk
You can hear my lonely heart beat
aware of my breath whistling through leather like leaves
I attach my seeds to your woolen coat
You are a solitary man
making your way down from the mountain
One step at a time
Closer and closer to our village
To the ones you love
As you walk through the village you shake your coat
Seeds fall on the fertile ground
Finally I have come home...
“Of time you would make a stream upon whose
bank you would sit and watch its flowing…”
From On Time, by Kahlil Gibran
If you could imagine time as a beauteous spring
Blossoming your life, charming euphoric dreams
I am sure you will regret not having enough of it
Reveling fondly, vibrantly, on prairies, tributaries
Bouncing blue-tides gaily, buoying cerulean seas
Traversing through seasons without ever ceasing
Yet, it lengthens or shortens much to our chagrin
Depending on whether in happiness, or in grief,
Reminiscing in love, or despising pensive memories
Days of yesteryears, though long gone and spent
Seeds that were sown then, now produce harvests
Either wailing in laments, or lauding of goodness
Time yet to come may find~ a tomorrow elusive
So invest it on today, elevating it to exhilarating
When your song is playing, opt to waltz and sing
Paint time immortal on portrait of angelic deeds
Hang on the walls of future your timeless legacy
Be the finite world priceless, that ticks to infinity
Let your time accumulate to meaningful centuries,
Don’t watch it pass you by, decaying in unworthy,
Offer time an inspiration to build your own destiny
November 7, 2021
Placed 1st: “T” Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Time
One brother, not well-liked by me,
is friends with early light.
Born in a prior century,
he measures day from night.
He comes with neither fangs nor claws,
and yet it makes me cringe
to see him at my door because
he darkens evening’s fringe.
I much prefer his modern kin,
who from man’s tampering,
keeps coming round and round again
to greet us in the spring . . .
A rescuer this younger one!
His middle name implies
he lengthens days by helping Sun
prolong light in the skies.
That brother, Daylight Saving Time,
the one I like the best,
departs each fall. Oh, what a crime
He’s not a constant guest!
For the SAVING DAYLIGHT Poetry Contest of john lawless
He is caught between one life and another
while my pain lengthens like a shadow of the moon
We are like leaves, played with by the wind
O lengthening dark vision
reaching across our lives
It came, at last, without a sound...
his leave taking came without a word,
but we both heard it in the silence....
His world is in the palm of his hand
and my world is this moment that does not move
O furtuna, sternit fortem
O furtuna, rota tu volubillis
Never was he mine, never was he not mine
The child, no longer, child that bends and sways
My eyes reflect the clouds upon the sky
for he reaches out a hand upon my crown
and I feel the gentle warmth upon my head
A knowing hand of man, not boy, that once I vowed to keep
must leave and know that I will weep
as if I am the child, ....not he,...instead
O fortuna, velut luna
Statu variabillis, semper crescis, aut decrescis;
I force a smile, and watch him fly away
Quod per sortem .... Sternit fortem,
never was he mine, never was he not mine
-----------------------------------
For Deb's Contest: Bi-Lingual
Latin translated
----
O Fortuna (O Fortune)
Velut luna (like the moon)
Statu variabilis (you are changeable)
Semper crescis (ever waxing)
Aut decrescis; (and waning;)
Quod per sortem (since Fate)
Sternit fortem, (strikes down the string)
Rota tu volubilis, (you whirling wheel)
Corde pulsum tangite; (pluck the vibrating strings;)
Quod per sortem (since Fate)
Sternit fortem, (strikes down the string)
I turn to look back,
my back to the sun,
my shadow lengthens before me,
it mocks me with movement
that I know was never mine,
I turn away from the mockery.
Godlike Sun Of The Living,
Do You Chase Your Shadow As I Do ?
Before me my shadow,
before me the sun,
sorrow makes allowance
so that they may be as one,
solstice is brief,
I regret its passing.
Devilish Sun Of The Dying,
Do You Loathe Your Shadow As I Do ?
My shadow lies before me,
it stretches, dark, into the sunlight,
it seeks the sun's embrace,
the sun welcomes its approach,
together they laugh,
conspirators jesting at my madness.
21st December 2018
I feel Him in the still of Night
and in pools of warm sunlight
I sense His shadow by my side
as twilight lengthens hurried strides
I invite Him in my modest home
pour over His Holy Tomes
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You cannot escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today. - Abraham Lincoln
Silence gathers like dust
on the piano lid—unplayed songs folded
into brittle paper wings.
The hummingbird feeder hangs empty,
sunlight glinting off dried nectar.
Each day our hands relearn
the slow syntax of stiffness.
Morning pills rattle accusations
in amber bottles. Who will read
the warning labels when our eyes retreat?
Childless. No daughters to decipher
our fading ink. No sons
to steady the wobble
of ascending stairs. Lincoln’s shadow
lengthens across the porch:
Tomorrow arrives hungry.
You cannot feed it yesterday’s excuses.
We scan horizons for villages
built of shared tremors
where neighbors become
soft euphemistic nouns—caregiver, listener, stayer~
before the light fails completely.
SATURATED SEEDLINGS:
Start
A solid life form
Shelled until Saturated
Grounded in suppressing soil
Surrounded and submerged in darkness
A seminally insignificant seedling
Attempting to sprout above the horizon
To let the sweet sunshine photosynthesize itself
The green applaudance
As its begins breaking through the darkness into the place of life and light
A mother nature portraying the master plan
Sustenance is essential to create a city changing seedling that will ultimately bear fruit
Bringing sustenance to us
A significant circle if life
One gives one takes
All of us are going to be replaced
Give and receive procedures amongst nature
The essential elements are present
1 Hydrogen, 2 oxygen with a dash of nitrogen
Along with a sunshine, soil sustaining its very being
Electromagnetic energy
Red and blue wave lengthens to create a green plant
Carbon dioxide, water and Certain salts
Being converted into kinetic energy
Development and gradual increase
Advance enlargement of cultivation and elevation
Through evolution?
Expansion and extension fleshing out
Flowering germination of this generation that will not settle for termination
A multiplication of produce and prosperity
A maturing- multiplication process
Let the cultivation culture captivate us
Bringing a faith
We cannot see the seed below the ground
But does that mean that its no longer there?
There is a rooting before the uprising and sprouting
There is a constant substance
That is done in secret and isolation
End
The Circle --- A Painting By Frida Kahlo
~~~
Caught between one life and another
my pain lengthens like a shadow of the moon
I am crumbling into fragments
like a fragile leaf, played with by the wind
O' dark angel of the night
You've slashed your talons across my life
You have pounced, without a care...
declaring my flesh and bone your own
I only hear you in the silence of despair....
My world is now this moment that does not move
O furtuna, sternit fortem
O furtuna, rota tu volubillis
Never was my life my own, never could it bend
A circle, round, I cannot be........but just a line that ends
Quod per sortem .... Sternit fortem,
A leaf, no longer, on the tree
Reflecting then, upon a sky
I reach a hand upon my crown
and I feel of death instead
My heart shrivels dry, a blackened rose, ...
Do you feel my pain?
Why must the flame of life grow dim?
With hope you soothe me in your whim
To take it all away?
This wretchedness is black as tar,
I taste the bitter blood!
There's darkness hidden in the depth
of who I used to be
I am like a leaf, played with by the wind
Do not turn eyes away...!
Torment me not, with heartless lust....
as flesh turns into dust!
______________________________________________________________
Based on the Painting 'THE CIRCLE'
For Cyndi's Contest: "Women Who Paint --Frida Kahlo"
8/19/13
http://www.fridakahlofans.com/c0611.html The Circle
Translation
O furtuna, (O' fortune) Rota tu volubilis, (you whirling wheel)
Sternit fortem, (strikes down the string)
Quod per sortem (since fate)
The cry
of a wailing
child in the
streets,
The
gun
fire blazing a rhythmic beat,The scorching
sun roasts her body
like meat, Tear shots
gas rents the vacuumed
air as she weeps gem drops,
Life is unfair to the little one
Lost for a place to call her home
Shes stranded amid the chaos,
Her helpless soul only feels fear,
She strolls the streets tears cascading
Like a soaked sponge her tarted clothes are,
Held tight is her cherished blanket,
For the world is crumbling upon her feet,
She understands little of the deceit,
Now secluded under a building rumble,
Her arms around her body for warmth,
will she live to see another day as war the lengthens.
Shots are heard from a distance fear is instilled in her as her blankets falls to the ground
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Nineteen
“Not that I had not spied your tulip-lipped doting jasmine airs
Nor the way your wraith-like form take me back to sumptuous fairs
Of Samarkand yore whence I dallied with dulcet-toned damsels
Just that my incognito pursuit here had little need for flares.”
“The sombre air you cloak yourself in to much deceit succumbs,
I pain to endorse the waste your ivory casing entombs.
Come! Let’s conjure the day ere the lurid night-half lengthens,
I would you were mine to confide ere summer solstice enthrones!”
“Now I’ll this reconnaissance to Our Lady Lake entrust
Know thou well my light-foot Maiden being of like-nature must.
Time is but a secret door like-minds might easily unlock:
Be it days or years or eons two hearts in one bind robust !”
Alas! Alas! The Ol’ Bard’s message bobbed up and about
Lady Lake’s unctuous raiments buffeted by squalls in bout;
The tulip-lipped Lass unawares thought no more of her act
Till the Mairie’s men-at-work fished the bobbing bottle out !
The Men of Paperasse studied the Bard’s note in all duty haste
And drew the conclusion: ‘Secret messages across time’s waste
Confirm the guilt of one and the other from distant powers!’
The arraignment was drawn up, signed and sealed with wax paste.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
A light mist of ethereous rain falls
silent on his thin, sharp-angled
face. He lengthens his stride and
leans toward the wind. He walks
through plundered poverty; crumbled
by the weight of exodus. Abandoned
to the blood-rough nails scratching
on the concrete diasporas of multiethnic
history.
Past the playground echoes of PS #59,
as they drift along the faded asphalt
haze of time. Echoes still ring true with
elemental bones of hope: the children
break out and through gunmetal gray,
graffiti covered doors, outside to the
saturated heat of inner-city rage.
Past gothic orthodox cathedral
mausoleums which sit like ancient
stoics and stare through burnt-amber,
azure, crystalline-blue stained glass
eyes; focused out with a kernel of
eternal mustard seed hope: souls will
come again and warm the sacred pews.
Past the Puerto Rican market
where the pig's head led the
carnivore parade of mastication
promise every day. A meat-market
window of letted-blood and death
reminiscent of Amsterdam whores
with their wares on display for the
dead-eyed stares of the men outside.
He comes to the dust and
grime of an empty lot covered
by old and broken concrete slabs.
He stops and lets his mind drift
back to watch a woman who wears
a ratted fox-tail wrap around her
neck. She holds a long, un-filtered
cigarette, loose, between her two
bright, fuchsia painted lips. She
wears a black velvet hat with veil
to her nose and a straight black
dress that flows below her knees,
mid-calf, above her shiny black,
high-heel, patent leather shoes.
He can almost see through the blur
of a chiaroscuro choreography his
mother, visiting with the Kazakhstan
neighbors, in this dreamlike memory.
The multi-plexed, subsidized project,
where he was born, once stood just
beyond his vision of a mother's visit in
high-heel, indigo, tangerine, sibilant
sounds; lit with electric light smiles
of denial.
She would hold her cigarette between
fuchsia lips and wear that ratted fox-tail
wrap until the cancer cough began to spew
Chesterfield blood on the molted fox-tail
head of her beloved fur.
Then she went to bed. Went to sleep. And died.
Pigeons cooed quietly on that New York City night.
I reach for my journal and pour out my life
Putting all of my heart into each thought
Passion and pain flow from my fingers through my pen
The blank page becomes filled with words
Flowing across the pages like chains
Binding each thought gently to another
Forming the paragraphs that speak my deepest desires
Easing the agony caused only by the racing thoughts in my brain
Never knowing what the next moment will bring
Feeling my heartbeat in the rhythm of the story
Connecting to Spirit as it lengthens until it is told in its entirety
Leaving the imprint of my soul on every page
Copyright © 2010 Lena “Lolita” Townsend
a frame cold-sprayed with
perfect tranquility; the world
and the bell are one,
a flock of wheels that join;
then the three-in-one in balance,
the sky,the moment, the crunch
of tyres on gravel,the river flows,
all suffering has gone,the day
lengthens, this is where I am.
Wireless Armour
Have you a laptop, a tablet, a phone
A wireless device that you call your own
Have you read the studies about radiation?
Do you fear for your health in this wireless nation?
If you are a guy, then this you should know
Electromagnetic studies all show
Sperm count and mobility all greatly reduce
With repeated wireless device use
And if as a woman, you treasure your chests
Radiation and cancer are linked in all tests
So what can you do to protect what you treasure
And still use the devises that give you such pleasure
Wireless Armour, coming soon to your store
That’s boxers and briefs or a bra you’ll adore
Made of a fabric that blocks harmful rays
Tested and tested for days upon days
A mesh of pure silver forms a Faraday Cage
That blocks radiation says the scientist’s gage
The Army, the Navy and AT and T
Without Faraday Cages just where would they be
Communication devices must block errant rays
And Faraday Cages are the only found ways
So they weave silver with cotton to make this new thread
That lengthens the life of the fabric it’s said
And the silver is anti microbial too
Stops the spread of bacteria that’s growing on you
The bacteria’s found on warm parts of your flesh
And that causes odors, leaving you less than fresh
They block radiation, prevent smelly parts
These long lasting garments are off of the charts
So there you have it, the cure-all of all cures
When you fear radiation may be harming what’s yours
Buy a bra or a pair, either boxer or brief
Sit back with your IPad with a sigh of relief