Best Listen In Poems
Whisper's of October
Whispers in this soup bowl
20 minutes after its muse explodes,
Daylight remains nothing more than a dream
Warding off the howling sound in mid-September's stream
Casting a line about a ginger light,
found in the depths of everything
Engaging from the sitting twilight, numb, tranquilized
Exposing and expressing the emotions found within
An attic lost in the Ancient sky ---awaits
A poetic hand is formed ---reaching out
A hissing whisper out of the darkness,
Listen-in, the echoes of October are calling
A halo, that reconciles a mysterious monarch moon
A mono grip in which summons a mysterious voice
of sweet serenity
Poets posting poems along the midnight page
Each poet can compose a poem and mimic free fallen verses,
One might call it a creative craving curse,
Webmaster's whose words speak for themselves
Voiceless-
They feel, and spills the will of idolized ink,
Blind-handed, splitting day from night
Warm whispers, needing no food to consume
Migraines of ink, feeding the soul
Burning Pages, overused pens
They've forgotten the pretty flowers
Living like lions, who never comes out of their dens
Murmuring and devouring, the enigmas of the unknown
Eyes behind a sieve, close tighter than before,
They hide nothing-
A world created from every sky-scrape the wall
Wanting to belong, a trick -or- treat*er in disguise
No friends, everything is pretend
These poets can’t be described, can't be believed
They are the best in what they do
For all you know this poet might be me,
This poet might be you
9/3/14
Seven generations walked through your door,
Which stood so strong and always welcomed in.
You said goodbye when boys headed to war,
Two soldiers lost to battles they can’t win.
Your kitchen always busy as a bee,
With canning, baking apple crumble cake.
Stone hearth, a place for warmth and drink some tea,
The table decked with riches to partake.
The living room a place to sit and chat,
With pictures hanging for one hundred years.
A chair still there where ancestors once sat,
This room for laughter and at times for tears.
Your nursery where many babies grew,
With bassinet where ev’ry child did lie.
The paint would change at times from pink to blue,
A place where time would always quickly fly.
The floors within have felt each child’s first walk,
Their worn out wood drowned many times with stain.
You watched the aging people gently rock,
You’ve heard and felt the tapping of a cane.
I stand and listen in your sacred halls
And feel that you’re a part of everyone.
Each breath we took embedded in your walls,
Of fathers, mothers, daughters and of sons.
Old house of stone your warmth embraces me,
Your children now all scattered far and wide.
You still stand proud for all the world to see,
The thoughts of you, sweet memories inside.
The house my children grew up in.
Iambic Pentameter
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
10.02.2014
Giorgio’s Contest: Iambic Verse III
2nd
Best of 2014 1st place
How can i behold your face again
when my eyes are ladden with tears?
How shall i hear the rushing wind of your voice
when my ears are deafened
by the silence within?
How shall i ever fondle your face again,
when my arms are withered by solitude?
At dawn i can not find you.
At noon i listen in vain for your laughter.
In the night season, my forlorn heart sighs
as it would its last.
The moon`s probing eye finds a way to my heart.
It is your reflection
that stretches in the dust.
Where once i had summer
i now have winter.
Your love which i once have felt
i now can feel no more.
You re so far away.
...so far away.
...so far away.
In Silence
Sighing, gales vibrate, release the dance
Between avid oak in crimson hues -
Delicate golds, amber and carroty red
Maples delicate muse, autumn stillness, hush
Erasing the summer, quieting…
The sunlight whispers raining down
In silence, pretty secrets
Perfect reminiscences
Whispering, gentle breeze, reflecting the shadows
Brought to life, silhouettes breathless, echoing
Peace inspired by the embrace of vibrant colors
Inspirations so alive, thriving in pulsating lights
Saying a quick goodbye to the past
Where still, cool waters smile liquid laughter
Stirring the promises entwined
Knit together like prayers
Prayed by hearts
Who know that this season, harvest time, autumn
Brings wisdom, insights into the wonders murmured
Like endless pleas for the kindness, the creativity
His hand brings to the world He crafted from naught
Spoken into existence by His voice, His utterance
Expressions of beautiful, awakened
To the miracle of creation, the design
Brought to life by His light
The wonder of His thought
Because I know Him, my Savior, my Maker
Autumn feels like the imagination adorned
With blushing tones of compassion, charity
Sensitive words lasting in pages, scriptures
Portraying the riches of His splendor – His mystery
The answer to every prayer lies there
Amid the verses, the poetry and promise
Like falling leaves, in silence
His love abides, grace inspired…
By the One I know as real love, real hope, real life
Savior of the world – redeemer of the heart and soul
Deliverer of the spirit who looks to Him and believes
In a love that is alive and can only be received
By those who know Him intimately, trusting
His gift of grace – His book’s answers
His forever in heaven
His eternity, the blessing
Freedom, forgiveness…
A reason to listen – in silence,
To His guidance!
I have no pearls of wisdom for you,
you wouldn’t listen in any event,
I’ll give you no advice,
no beatings will be any good either,
it’s not the gift that you need.
You were there for the casting of the die
but you somehow think you’ll survive.
I won’t tell you how to snatch up
the light bright lies that you’ve missed,
and the countless truths to follow,
the realities that so awkwardly escaped us
are a gift that you won’t accept.
I’ve seen the witless blundering
and transgression to shame us both.
I have no sage words for you,
but I have a single round in the chamber,
so I’ll take you out behind the shed
and in the daylight that summoned me
I’ll gift us a gift far greater.
14th December 2018
I, too,
wish to carry a bullet
for the ducks flying through snow.
I, too,
want to live under neon lights—
blue light still my closest friend.
I, too,
take cold showers
until my hands stop shaking,
snapping red like nerves.
I, too,
clasp my hands after killing a mosquito,
even if blood and genes mean nothing.
I, too,
walk through mist,
loving the snails that move slow like me.
I, too,
carry an apple in my throat.
If the mic drips with honey,
I’ll recline and listen in silence.
Do we truly see eye to eye, or merely pretend to align?
A prayer-like wind passed through me.
If only time can solve this,
how could I not
I, too,
want to type without thinking.
If I press the TAB key,
maybe summer and fall will appear.
I, too,
bury my face in my frontal lobe,
whispering “today, for sure,”
until it stops being a lie.
I, too,
wanted cherry blossoms.
Who swept the petals away before I arrived?
I almost asked aloud—
but there was no one to answer.
WHISPERS OF YOUR SOUL
Gentle voice within-- murmurs to shake my thoughts
carrying me to a lair of lavenders and roses
as the wind sways choir with an echo painting poses
it matches the twinkling stars in their bright tons of shots
I shut my eyes from around to listen in silence
Hugging myself in surrender to ardent breeze of remember
tender are the words seeping slow in my heart's chamber
freeing me from dangling touches of conflict and shyness
Candy wrapped around these whispers permits me to move
for like a laughing water, it's lapping, caresses my ears.
ah! how it melt my tangled threads of salad fears!
Arising above to display an open jolly groove,
I breathe an ounce to utter a single prayer
to forever beget these nectarine whispers
where to timeless counts of thorns, I may not shiver
instead-- before despair, I will stand for I'm spared.
Upon twin trial pools of impossibles,
embrace my heart; oh! embrace my soul
Answer my yearning; fill me whole
for if I twine with you, I am unstoppable... !
©O. E. Guillermo
10:24 pm, December 14, 2014
Sponsor: Gail Angel Doyle
Contest Name: Whispers Of Your Soul
Placed 1st
Come meet me when the sun has melted down
the mountains’ peaks like butter from the sky.
Come meet me far away from all the town.
It’s summer; on a blanket we can lie.
And although what is coming is foreknown,
we’ll still anticipate what is to come
when sun relinquishes to moon his throne.
Come lie with me and hear the evening’s hum.
How many are the songs of nature crooned -
those sweetest lullabies that we can hear?
We’ll listen in the gloaming, and attuned
to dusky sights and sounds, I’ll kiss you, Dear,
for soon to be enraptured by the moonlight,
with bliss we’ll linger on the edge of night.
Oct. 31, 2018 for Janis Thompson's Soap Opera Titles Poetry Contest
Born without knowledge, seeking its course clear
Whether to search with the external eye,
or turn inward towards darkness, to hear
To find each minuscule need must comply
I'll question the soul, as though we are two
and seek answers from its soft voice within
To listen in silence for wisdom that's new
A guiding line, where my thoughts begin
To be in awe of life's visual scene
A universe illusions often thwart
A world unknown to all but me, between
I'll find serenity in my soul's comfort
To release my breath, free my soul that's bound
and listen to soft inner peace I've found
Unlike the others in my family,
I rarely let emotions take control.
A temper tantrum they'd not see from me.
The "cool" one I was called. It's still my role.
I rarely get choked up by anything.
As one well-balanced, rarely ever do
I feel depressed, jealous, unforgiving
or guilty! (I don't sit around and stew).
I guess I see betrayal as a sin
that I abhor, for in my youth one day,
my best friend laid a trap and I fell in,
but it was not a too nice joke to play!
My best friend lured me on the telephone
to say the way I felt about Margo -
a girl whose reputation was well-known
as "bad girl," and she also was my foe.
This bad girl had a crush on the same guy
I liked, and he was my best friend's brother.
For his attention both Margo and I
would vie, so we didn't like each other!
My best friend had two phone lines. On the end
of one of them, she let my enemy
then listen in on me as my best friend
was getting my confessions out of me!
Dang Margo heard them all! And I saw red.
I slammed the phone down, and then down the street
I marched to my friend's house. I felt no dread.
But great hurt filled me. I would not retreat!
I pounded on my friend's door righteously
because I'd felt as if I had been slapped.
My mom, unused to such display from me,
was so impressed, when I got home, she clapped!
Nov 30, 2017
End Note: Margo got pregnant right out of junior high and
had to marry Danny. They were divorced a few years later!
Sore to the bone
Running on a drop of energy
Just gotta push through
I'll rest eventually
My shoulder has gone numb
But my body feels her weight
As if she's gotten heavy
Since her unconscious state
If I could, I'd stop right now
But who knows how safe it is here
And if I could even start again
I may fall asleep I fear
Soon my body will give up
But I'll make it as far as I can
And hopefully haven isn't too far
And I can put her in helping hands
Walking all day and night
It's hard not to think on past
And any thought I come up with
Has me struggling to hold sobs back
I've kept my ears open
Trying to focus on only sounds
But all I keep on hearing
Is my shoes crunch on foreign grounds
Bang. I hear it softly.
So far but still so near.
Bang. Another gunshot sounds
And I've collapsed in fear.
I close my eyes but another goes off
This time in a memory
And now I'm filled with rage
At how repulsive humans can be
My thoughts turn to my baby
Slipping off of my shoulder
I set her down and examine her
Bloodstained gown and skin colder
My worst nightmare but it can't be true
I listen in for her sweet breath
No. No No. No No. No No.
What's this silence? This isn't death.
This time I don't close my eyes
I see a sight that makes me sob
Memory of the last I saw my wife
And now my baby's with her mom.
Each one of us left covered in crimson
By a monster, a gunshot, a blow
Their death is the death of me.
This is as far as I can go.
May 2010
Inspired by Morris Gleitzman's novel "Once," a historical fiction about a boy in Poland
during the Holocaust.
She comes to me when e’er she will,
When starlight sprinkles my windowsill.
When the dew finds rest upon the grass
She taps upon my window glass.
I go outside to be with her,
To share a moment soft and pure,
But she soon glides away down a wooded lane
And I who follow think I follow in vain.
We amble through the night time woods,
Past curled up ferns and dark monk’s hoods,
Past spiders in their silken weavings,
Long past when night surpasses evening.
I follow her deep into the glen
To the reedy edge of a foggy fen
Where cattails sway in a subtle breeze
And glowworms float in airy ease.
She pauses by a drowsy creek
And turns to me as if to speak,
But saying nothing moves farther ahead
And alights on a nearby milkweed bed.
She bids me listen to a joyful tune
The crickets play beneath a full white moon,
The notes flutter, then fall, gentle and sweet
In dappled moonlight at my feet.
We listen in silent similitude
Afraid to disturb the delicate mood,
Yet soon she starts to converse with me
And I am richer for her company.
We talk about many wonderful things –
About robin’s eggs and butterfly wings.
About caterpillars, elves and gnomes
And where she claims to make her home.
We talk about love and the joy it will bring
And how it can make a lonely heart sing.
I then smile at her but she turns away
And I, left speechless, have nothing to say.
And so we share the passing night
And greet the dawn’s creeping light,
But before the night succumbs to day
She once more starts to glide away.
She lingers near the waking brook
Then disappears in a rocky nook.
Looking in I can see her no more –
She has returned to where she was before.
Morning has come too soon it would seem
And she has left me alone to ponder my dream.
A dream? Perhaps, but real I know
For she had deigned to make it so.
Silent, like the moments
Just after snow
Sighs through the still, dark night
Reflecting moon and stars
Hurrying to touch the ground
Smiling, like the break of day
When sunshine breathes
A kiss against the naked face
Whispering gentle wishes
Through the light that strokes
Tender, like a prayer
Kindly, like the psalms
Embracing the heart, the soul
With a intimacy, a vibrant
Hue of grace and music
Promising to baptize hopes
In laughter, lingering
Joy that is so beautiful
It inspires the spirit to dance
Warmly, like the color of fire
Flames risking their blaze
On the wonder of singing praise
To the Creator, the maker
Of everything there is – each tree
Each dream – each in between
Breathlessly, like the rain
Falling softly on the flowers
Stirring them to life
Preparing buds to bloom, alive
As a vibrant hue of grace
Beckoning from its place
Olive stems portraying faith
Love, like the One who brings life
To every soul, each hope,
Even the dreams listen in peace
To the One who makes us each one
Aware of His wonder, His compassion
The way He gives without expectation
The way He lives in the spirit, accepting
Everyone who comes to Him, humbly
Willing to repent and give to Him
A spirit of contrition – finding satisfaction
In the glory of His gift, His grace
The salvation that is His gift
Praising Him…
I will never forget where I’ve been
Or how HE brought me out of the darkness
Into the light of a new day, a new way
His love is like the love of a Father
Even more – He is the best Father of all
5/13/22
“When we fall in love,
We’re just falling…
In love with ourselves,
We’re Spiraling” ~Keane
Speak, and forever hold me in chaos
For I will sift my way through the toughest stains of your heart
Clipping words in your anger,
You call upon me once again
And with soft words, I reply in disembodiment
So that you may fulfill your frustrating thoughts
And you say to me, almost coldly,
“Please, speak up!”
Shall I hold you in your frustrations,
To give my unnecessary say?
What shall I speak of,
To blow your demons away?
Speak, up or down, my friend
For my love for you goes beyond my hate for me
Stopping my heart from happiness,
You call upon me time and time again
And with brutal words, you listen in pieces
So that I may sink into my absorbing softness again
As I say to you, so gently,
“Please, go on…”
Will you hold me when I weep?
When my mysterious silence disturbs you?
Or will you continue to speak,
As my demons devour me?
Go on......please...
The fractured light of day rises, so still
And I am but a part, lost in its shade
Question not the sun but the role I fill
Find reason and wonder are ready made
To follow days as a linear string
And remember it has a final end
To count rainbows and colors they bring
Marvel at the symmetry of the bend
Who am I, an intruder to this scene?
One who counts time by the suns that rise
Who lays upon Earth watch the life between
Listen in quiet as stars harmonize
To capture its rhythm, the pulse I feel
To comprehend my time traveled is real
6/10/14