Best Loomed Poems
The rain set me adrift inside a dream
My mind was on a painting miles upstream
An unforgotten "en plein" I once viewed
A light pastoral springtime interlude
Two horses, one snow white, one shiny black
Two barefoot boys in blue jeans ride bareback
Through pasture weeds bloomed orange almost red
White fluffy mountains loomed as thunderheads
A lightning bolt sends thunder through gray skies
The vivid colors blend in teary eyes
One brother's love becomes a blurry stain
Through windows streaked with rivulets of rain
From inside looking out my hourglass
I watched as nature painted winter's grass
Entranced from listening to her rhythmic rune
One April watercolor afternoon
by Daniel turner
On the south-western side of the old mission school,
near the corner of First Street, where blackberries grew
a field claimed by youngsters was crosshatched with tracks.
It was riddled by gophers and, nettled with fox-tails
and the children's bare feet had constructed thin trails,
cupping deep paths that were littered with smiles,
deep in the amber of tall weeds and dry grass.
It wasn't too far from the patched wire fence
that hemmed the backyard of my Grandmother's house.
Westerly whirlwinds would rattle the ragweed,
while seeds of the bull-thorns, that prickled our toes,
would spread with the tumbleweeds, now tossed into rows
like last winter's snowmen, worn to the bone
There were traces of honeysuckle mixed with wild rose
from Grandma's old arbor, that loomed in the distance
A rusty old weather vane like a merry-go round
would spin like a top that might never stop
The ivy was overgrown, and a sleepy old hound
would snooze by the clothesline, in shade he had found
But, deep in the field, was a land of our own
A place we called 'Neverland', a loft in this poem
In the yoke of one tree, with the help of our dad
was a fort built of scrap wood, from piles by the shed.
And by hook or by crook, I would take all commands
While my brother's brewed brainstorms, and his black plastic hook,
assigned him the Captain, while I was the crew
of a ramshackle galleon, brought to life from our books
While I dangled in air, from a tired old swing
"Tinker", my name...in this masculine game..
I would push off, while he pulled me, right up to the sky
and into the branches, with leaves in my eyes......
I would fly to the depth's of a steel gray-blue sky
I would grovel, and shovel, to have his approval........
for he was much older, much wiser than me
I would play like a tomboy,.....shove doll-drums away
Such sweet summer days,......while bright splintered rays
of hot summer sun, would spotlight our play.
We would stay until twilight, to watch the sun die
Defying all gravity.......I could see to eternity
Tootsie Pops clung to the tip of our tongues
while the sun of the twilight, dipped over the dunes
and the call of our mother, slipped over the moon
____________________________________________________________
The cemetery was fresh and vivid green
when we took our bikes down the paths of it -
past stones and trees and mausoleums and grass as far as we could see,
carefree on that muggy summer afternoon,
perspiration glistening on our arms and on our faces
as we sought to stay on the shady side of each well-traveled lane.
Instinctively we followed Dale, our older red-haired fun-loving brother,
turning here and there; it didn’t matter. We had no destination,
no gravesites of friends or relatives to visit.
Sometimes we would spot an interesting tombstone,
jump off our bikes and take a closer look at it.
We were just kids, out of school for summer with no real obligations.
Our lives were a clean slate, not like the worn and broken headstones
we spotted sometimes on the cemetery’s edge, the older area’s grave stones
whose names were hard to read and dates went as far back as the 1800’s.
Those were emblems of an ancient past for us.
It was 1965! We were the modern generation and the future loomed
as large for us
as those many squared city blocks the cemetery measured.
Flash forward two decades to 1984. I was married with two small kids
and back in my hometown; things around me seeming so much smaller,
and the future loomed not quite so large ahead of me this time.
Most of my sisters were married but leading separate lives in different states.
We all had pressing obligations, so our reunion could not be a long one.
No longer were my sisters and I carefree, and we were not riding bikes.
We rode in cars that followed one another in a line;
the cemetery was cold and dismal grey that December day
as we gathered around the unearthed sod,
staring, unbelieving, into the giant hole that was to be the final resting place
for the brother whom we’d once followed so gleefully
along the shady paths of vivid green
I may never know what exactly happened,
but I think I know the why of it
Tadhana…Fate…Destiny…Kismet…
Put it in so many words,
but it all boils down to that.
Tadhana…
shivers down my spine,
tears prickling my eyes,
as I hear once more the story,
the destiny
of two souls
one stormy day in July…
She was being stupid,
crashing into the waves that day
just for the thrill of it
He was being pensive,
reflecting on how those waves
just somehow seemed to soothe him
People slowly left the shores
as dark clouds loomed in the horizon
save for these two souls...
She wasn’t even supposed to be there,
just a spur of the moment thing,
forgetting her other worries
she loved storms, she loved the beach
combine them and for her it was bliss…
He went there for closure,
the 10th year of his brother’s death
trying to accept that he did all he could
he loved him, he loved the beach
but guilt drowned him…
The rains then came down in sheets,
winds whipping, storm waves crashing
she was almost at shore though,
when the undertow pulled her back
He thought he was imagining things,
his brother’s ghost perhaps?
When he saw her again,
and fear was tossed like jetsam
Was she the answer he was seeking for?
His redemption in another form?
Was this the reason why he was here now?
Her only hope for salvation?
Rushing out to sea,
adrenaline rushing through his veins
Faith and Fate working together,
he swam towards her
and as they reached the shore
the winds dropped to a whisper,
the waves went back tickling sand,
the raindrops trickled into drizzles
She was breathing, thank God
He lay beside her, exhausted
She could only thank him with a smile
well, a smile that could match the Sun
and she took his hand...
and put it over her heart
It was not so much that their hands fit perfectly,
but there was something else...
mole on her right ring finger
perfectly aligning
mole on his left ring finger
Tadhana.
Shivers down my spine,
tears prickling my eyes,
as I hear once more the story,
the destiny
of two souls
one stormy day in July…
and of why I am here.
** tadhana is a Tagalog word, it can be translated as fate/destiny/kismet
July 25, 2010
She much preferred the days. In rays of sun
She’d wrap herself as if they were a shawl.
But quiet horror crept when day was done,
for Night closed in - a grim and awful pall.
That memory more easily suppressed
when sunlight drenched her soul came flooding in
as shadows loomed, and then a blackness pressed
into her consciousness the guilt of sin.
Though it was not a sin deliberate,
the Pain of Night arrived as if to scoff
at her for thinking that she might forget
the time she drove her car, then nodded off. . .
How horrible that sight she can’t erase -
her victim’s young and bloodied stricken face.
I'd bloomed from the warm glow in his eyes.
He had been my sunlight when darkness loomed.
His arms protected me, for he was my safe haven,
but too soon, the light faded from his hazel eyes,
and his voice, a gasp when drawing a breath.
His life was pilfered by Death, the morbid thief.
Stolen from us were Utopian days of splendor.
The painful loss is a burden I must endure,
uncertain of how I will face tomorrow alone.
I wept in silence until the bronzed edge of twilight
chased prisms of light from pastel skies.
A shroud of gloom veiled the wound in my heart
as I felt the gatekeeper gently touch my arm.
Layers of cold black earth now separated us.
I still held the red rose I'd brought for his coffin.
Streaks of tears washed blush from my cheeks,
while I shivered in fear without his hand to hold.
I was years older since morning had dawned,
wilting like the spray of lilies, heads drooping.
They were withered and dying, their beauty lost.
Once vibrant and sweet, their fragrance fading,
they lie on a grave for which they were grown.
On alabaster marble, my finger traced his name,
wishing love's affliction could somehow be rescinded.
I was at the impasse where life and death collide.
I stood, but left my crushed red rose on the chair,
for unable was I to whisper 'goodbye.'
February 5, 2021
Break My Heart, Why Don't Cha Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
I missed a blind corner one grim stormy night,
On a dark forest road, with no phone.
The crash was severe, but what gave me more fright
Was I had to walk out all alone.
A mile, maybe two, and there loomed into view
An imposing stone manor, quite old.
I felt somewhat spooked, but I guessed it would do
For relief from the drizzle and cold.
Despite my loud knocking I heard no reply,
Though some embers from somewhere glowed red.
The door opened wide when I gave it a try,
And its groan somehow filled me with dread.
I crept toward the flickering warmth where I found
A mere wisp of a man in a chair,
So pale in appearance he hardly seemed sound—
Like a shadow that’s only half-there.
I saw he was napping and hadn’t a clue,
So decided to give him a tap,
But to my amazement, my fingers went through
His left arm and right down to his lap!
I gasped in sheer horror and rushed out the door,
Though I never before had believed
In spirits or hauntings or vampiric lore,
So I wondered if I’d been deceived.
This mystery troubled me long years ago,
But I now understand it: you see,
That car wreck I mentioned was fatal, and so...
The ghost wasn’t him; it was me.
---
Date Written: January 16, 2019
Contest: One Night in a Haunted Manor, sponsored by Tania Kitchin
On a fine April day, set out in the great cruise ship, Titanic,
Into the pelagic waters of Atlantic, with the weather alluringly sweet.
Plush it was with beaming fellow travelers and amenities astounding.
A journey of great excitement under a star-studded sky at night.
With the crew so hospitable, there was overwhelming warmth and conviviality.
Wine and liquor flowed down through gullets; tasty cuisines were served.
On the deck couples and lovers waltzed, a sweet breeze kissing their cheeks.
But tragedy loomed large in the form of an iceberg, unobserved.
I sat away from the crowd enjoying the rising gaiety.
What was the deafening sound I heard from near?
With a violent shake, the huge leviathan turned to one side.
Hardly knew what was happening, but sensed death was not far.
Hit hard n' ripped into two pieces, the vessel began sinking into the waters.
Amid euphonic melody and revelry, some didn’t know what was happening.
Some in panic ran helter skelter with growls and groans renting the air.
A man gave away his lifeboat to a mother and child, his own life abandoning.
It was a moment I witnessed the beauty of selfless love.
I was inspired to give away my lifeboat that I secured by chance.
A divine spark hit me, and all anxieties vanished instantly.
Sudden was the transmutation, I saw the whole scene in a new stance.
Heaven’s fire was lit in my breast and in love, my spirit began to glow,
How great it is to give life to someone who needed it more.
I heard the angel’s voices flit, saw a new door opening wide.
Had a fleeting vision of the heavenly hall with aureate roof and glazed floor.
I knew all my agony depart and hope instantly sparking.
With God on my side, I felt sinking into the icy depth,
My mind was calm with an unusual courage filling my every nerve,
And my horizon growing bigger and enlarging into uncommon width.
My inaudible parting words were “Goodbye Titanic, fare thee well,
In the oceanic depths, you stay as a symbol of world’s fleeting glory,
Making men think that fate can shatter and pulverize human hubris.
In the sunless Atlantic lair, lie down ageless to tell your allegorical story"!
It was time for day to bid adieu to the setting sun,
when tangerine hues blend with those of pale pink.
Not to miss the titian glow, I was afraid to blink,
now that the ebbing of twilight had finally begun.
Slowly, it descended below the horizon's edge,
a sanguine orb drowning in a cobalt blue sea.
Sunset is such an enchanting pleasure for me,
as sunlight disappears behind the cliff's ledge.
During the begetting of night, my mind was at play
with thoughts of writing of a moment I won’t forget
and of the crowning halo of light of the sun's coronet.
The one it offers to the moon at the end of each day.
Cascades of pastel colors stretched across the skies.
My shadow grew longer as the sun bid me 'farewell.'
I watched a last flicker of light dip in an ocean swell.
A radiant canvas loomed before my awestruck eyes.
The grand finale' of this prismatic pageantry, I lauded,
as this lustrous sunset slowly slipped away from me,
waved goodbye and sank into the depths of the sea.
Another sunset made its exit. I stood and applauded.
Recovering from a bridge that's been burned
depends on who lit the match that started the fire."
~ by poet
I stood alone, watching as our bridge was burning
His words were flames growing higher and higher
Ashes fell as if they were dust from dying stars
I was completely lost and disenchanted
mesmerized by the fire's golden glow
Darkness loomed over me in mourning's hour
as dawn was slowly waking beyond the hills
I was seized with the chill of being in pain
Thinking never again would I trust in love
Why should I when it ended like this?
Years spent together would belong to the past
and memories dim like the last breath of twilight
but come unbidden when I'd least expect them
Unwanted intrusions in reveries and dreams
of scars and wounds scorched across my heart
Each breath I took became a struggle
One I wasn't sure I could continue taking
I wondered if this sorrow would ever end
and if there was no tomorrow, would I care
since the bridge between us no longer existed
THE FAIRY TALE
Long ago, far away
As the elderly birch trees say
There lived a beautiful girl, in the castle of misty dreams,
Her eyes were abyssal,covered by angel's wings
The smell of mystery lingered in her dark hair
But she never smiled,never talked,dark clouds hovering o'er her pallid face
Dreams and dreams hurried away through the window of her distant gaze.
No wonder the castle hid itself in the fog of loneliness,
All day long it cried and cried waiting for the sunlight.
Till one day the winds raced,through the walls of the dark castle
Every tree and every bird looked in awe,as God glided through the forest
He moved in speed towards that window, the once silent forest gossiped about his arrival.
Her little heart jumped and hummed like the commotion outside,
To catch a glimpse of him she spread her gaze wide..
He loomed across her window, still, for the first time.
He thought, he found, what he searched, whom he knew through the ages
All the happiness came alive as letters out of the amber pages.
She knew she cried, she never smiled as she was waiting to be found,
Watching him so close by, her heart rhymed the only sound.
The clouds raced far away,
Through the mist the sunrays made way,
the misty dreams melted away.
One embrace,one silent gaze,she smiled, the alabaster foam danced over the waves,
The rosy colour flew across her beautiful face.
The trees sang, the birds tweeted, the octaves danced on their own
The seeds of love found their way out of the rock one again.
Long ago, far away...
The castle glowed, the gloom faded away..
When I was 10 my world was fun
Filled with friends and joy & laughter
I didn't know what was to come
Who I'd become thereafter
11 came and I changed schools
With all my friends and aspirations
Along came homework and more rules
A pretty rigid education
Walking down the corridor
My arms around 2 friends
They said "stop!" they'll think we're gay
And right away, my innocence ends
I knew that word could not be good
Not something I should be
So I agreed and shrugged it off
After all, what had that to do with me?
First they started on and off
And then became relentless
Shouting ***, fairy, queen and poof
I was just a kid, alone and defenceless
I felt humiliated, but you see
I thought, this can not last!?
And then my friends turned their backs on me
I felt my spirit shrinking fast
8 hours a day, 5 days a week
Was more thank I could take
For 7 years my prison grew
If I was going to survive, I had to escape!
The bullying got worse you see
I couldn't speak of this at home
My mind became a safe place to be
And I got "I'm not normal, I'm alone!"
When they laughed and passed pictures of me around the room
And the humiliation started
My face turned red, I felt despair and gloom
Then into my head I departed
I knew from now on that I was doomed
Life could never be the same
Because in the background something loomed
The voice in my head said I was to blame
I couldn't understand when I screamed out inside
Why nobody could ever hear me
No one helped when I stood and cried
No one came to rescue me
As an adult I found it bizarre
Why can't I let anyone in?
I couldn't see the prison bars
That kept me safe, but trapped within
I was pretty smart I guess
This prison I created
Kept me from harm, keeps in the mess
Whenever I'm humiliated
I ask you please consider all
When you see "Leave me alone"
Hear me shout from behind my prison wall
Don't Ever leave me alone!
We wander all, in feral dreams
of jagged thoughts and cryptic yearns;
a labyrinth of mirrored turns.
Along a ridge of moon stitched seams,
lie melancholic tapestries,
unfolded in an abstract frieze.
Subconscious angst weaves heart loomed themes
from pain sewn deep, through puerile eyes,
till daybreak’s alabaster guise.
As savage beasts from darkened streams,
complicit servants of the id,
form insights purged at slumber’s bid.
Claw toward light as urging deems;
these taloned gasps of hidden truth,
burst from the depths of shuttered youth.
We wander all, in feral dreams
along a ridge of moon stitched seams.
Subconscious angst weaves heart loomed themes,
as savage beasts from darkened streams,
claw toward light as urging deems.
19 Nov 2019
As they loomed through the sacred grove,
With staffs of Oak and Mistletoe,
Casting Oghams to the wind,
These men are wise with strength within.
They know the secrets of the trees,
And all the critters that live with these,
Once the kings would sort their counsel,
But they are the Wren, out from the wing.
First Irish chief had three eagle feathers,
Where the Bards were called the Fili,
In three worlds they would venture,
For three is sacred to the order, as is Awen.
The king is the eagle in the Duir (oak)
But the Druid is the wren that flys out from his wing.
/|\
The Native Americans have a similar story it goes something like:
As the Eagle soared and was about to claim his kingdom,
Out popped a little wren from under his wing, and flew a few feet higher,
declaring, yes, gaze upon your king, it is I!
In conclusion: It is ok to ride on the coat tail of others as we all do, but at
some point, we all must go out there and make our own path, or own inputs.
For the wren’s nest is also the Druid’s house.
When crepuscular shadows loomed in a bay
to grate upon this opulent view’s grandeur,
my visceral thoughts reeled like windmills
where breaths heaved low, desultory the mind.
Gazing at Anger, doubts replayed a cynical past,
in lone sojourn...winds hummed,” speak no evil”
yet, penumbra of waves turned desultory.
Until a hundred stars bathed my eyes whole,
kindling exuberant rays, to console love’s blow;
and jealousy faded, in homage to a halcyon moment.
Silent One’s Contest
"see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil"
2/01/2016