Best Loosened Poems
Open like a door before me
Be it sun or rain or stormy
Each new year gapes like yawning chasms, dark
And for all my silly scheming
All my notions and my dreaming
Passion's flames won't ever light without a spark
(Oh New Year please burn bright for me)
I can not see your face from here
But how I long to draw you near
And hold you to my bosom like a child
Oh New Year, won't you sing for me
And drown the sad cacophony
Of all the years behind me, lost and wild
(Oh New Year please burn bright for me)
You see, I'd been to hell and back
A hundred times when I lost track
Of all the hopes that blossomed in my youth
With poisons making life surreal
I'd lost the will to thrive or feel
Until the kiss of death revealed my truth
(Oh New Year please burn bright for me)
This year I dream of someone new
The mirrored face that longs to do
The things that he has loosened to the wind
To let go of the fears that bind
That paralyze his heart and mind
And never feel embarrassed or chagrined
(Oh New Year please burn bright for me)
I want to grasp life with both hands
To twirl my spirit on the sands
Of time, and never look back to redeem
But make the most of moments, each
Let laughter, love and friendship teach
My soul the things I never dared to dream
(Oh New Year please burn bright for me)
Burn bright with the hopes of my music and pen
Burn bright with the fire that can love me again
Burn bright with the dreams that churn deep in my heart
Burn bright with the flames of a joyous new start
(Oh New Year please burn bright for me)
And I will burn bright ... for YOU.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Soon It Will Be 2019" Poetry Contest, Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer, Judge & Sponsor.
Who was this man who spoke so bold?
Was He a prophet, like one of old?
He touched the lepers, made them clean,
Gave sight to those who had never seen.
His name was Jesus.
Who was this man who calmed the sea,
And from demons set people free,
Who loved to watch the children play,
And often slipped away to pray?
His name was Jesus.
Who was this man who loved the sinner,
And often met with them for dinner?
Self righteous leaders were distressed,
But this man was not impressed.
His name was Jesus.
Who was this man who raised the dead,
Who fed five thousand with five loaves of bread?
He healed the lame so they could walk,
And loosened muted tongues to talk.
His name was Jesus.
Who was this man, falsely accused,
Mocked and beaten, cruelly abused?
The Romans nailed Him to a tree,
While His own refused to set Him free.
His name was Jesus.
Who is this man who conquered death,
Who rose again filled with God's own breath?
His hands and feet scarred by the nails,
Reveal His love that never fails.
His name is Jesus.
His name is Jesus, God's only Son.
He gave His life for everyone.
To those who call upon His name,
He grants salvation, erases shame.
His name is Jesus.
Behold the silent battle
That the changing seasons bring
Winter's grip is loosened
As the robin begins to sing
The flowers strain toward Heaven
As their fragrance fills the air
For spring has given notice
But winter will not despair
Winter will not be broken
As it fights with it's last breath
But spring's warm winds are endless
And the reason for winter's death
Spring proclaims it's victory
As it watches it's rival die
The snowflakes have changed to raindrops
As winter begins to cry
SELF DESTRUCTIVE
The lies,
I laugh
I look at you
I can't stand you
I hate you
I can't believe you
I can't believe it!
How I allowed
You in my life
Almost your wife
Cut me
Deep with this knife
Self destruct
Eat it and weep
As you read
About my new love
Distance is just a mass
I close my eyes
To kiss him
I close my eyes
And you disappear
Oh! My God.
My eyes are open
Take me so far away
Into another place
I don't need this disgrace
I don't want to be crazy
Or labeled insane
Like a crazy train
Explain the new love I found
I love the sound
To be in your arms
Not in his shadow
I plead to you
I bleed for you
I try to run into you
But the more I stay
I can't turn away
My life's is set on,
Self destruct
You are my everything
He is my nothing
With you my heart sings
With him it suffers
You are my tune
He is my off note
You bring light to my moon
He brings me darkness with doom
Blow me up
To spill my cup
A self destructive life
A dagger- a knife
Just kill what is left
Deep inside my chest
Then I found you
You took me
You shook me
You removed this isolation
Gave me your sensation
Better remedies
Rescuing me from the seas
I am drowning
Come save me
My days are done clouding
He has ruined
What is not visible
You have loosened
My heart to invincible
Cherish me
For all to see
Heal the pain
Wash the stain
Cover me under the rain
Give meaning to my sanity
Search for me
Give me your love
With no date, over due
My heart now belongs to you
Excuse the effect if you find me disruptive"....
It all comes with being self destructive
~SKAT~
Our oldest light goes by the name cosmic
microwave background radiation—
CMB for short. She's everywhere:
fluorescent birdsong of modern offices,
hum of corner store ice cream cases.
Have you heard of her? This gal was born
screaming into freedom from the expansion
of a bang so big we're still talking about it.
Expelled from the recombination's gender-
less cervix, before there were names for things
like body, or heat, or quiet. She slid through
the pitch of first dark, not yet sure what
edges were, dragging the weight of a beginning
behind, shelter for and shedding of photons
loosened from a fire she didn't start.
Somewhere in this thirteen-billion-year drift
her lips kissed the eyelids of stars that hadn’t
learned to die yet, passed the chubby fists
of planets still cooling in their cribs. Fell into gravity
wells, bent her spine around a gape of black holes,
and climbed back up again, tired but full.
We call her background now, like she's an afterthought,
the hum of hums beneath the humming—we call her 'it'.
Add a T to her beginning and we might as well
call her mother. And when she reaches us, frail
and stretched thin, we catch her in our instruments
(where we found her), our desperate, outstretched hands.
For our effort, like a good genie enduring a bad rub,
she tells the story of our origin from a certain point—
then distracts us with tricks when we ask her about
the end of it.
"Streams of Gold, Blazing Andromedas"
Engagement came at a cost
the written word read
and worn like a purple robe
to keep out the cold
stave the hunger off,
feed the soul eveything,
Everything, is what it wants,
silky words like feathers
tickle the closed throat,
the lips open the kisses
like envelopes
eternal sweet plumbs,
like losengers
in a glass swear jar
too many now,
innumerable,
judged and fined,
selected and sucked
unreasonably
for some kind longevity,
the life, for all it's worth,
in treacherous weather,
sometimes flounders,
pauses for a while
looking upwards towards
an empty sky searching
and waiting, for far away lost gods,
then uncomfortably dressed,
the robe, loosened, like a pagan,
the written word read
and worn on the outside
like a purple cross,
the stars glittering in
reflective windows,
the view immeasurable,
the external shell
disgarded and dropped
at the feet of absent minded
causes, the reviews smile
like wolves lost, they're
missing the red hoods,
they're missing
the real treasure,
the deep buried plot
the naked pleasure
of walking away
graces a certain freedom
priceless, like rare diamonds
entwined with diamantes,
who can tell the difference now?
twinkling like blazing andromedas
at the distant edge of their worlds
Engagement locked in at a cost
fresh water pearls
au natural, nothing
false here, the
kintsugi veins glow
lux vitae
in fig leaf stories
a naked life shining,
seen running in
broken streams of gold
the missing Page left opening
marked unopened books,
walks like a lost adventurer
through stories
that arrive on leaves
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
When evening dusk falls from the edge of night
like a loosened taffeta from bridal halls
the wrist pulse slows as the stars align
their talisman to keyon thoughts of you
She dances to the steps of light
like a wild specimen heralding dark graphite
tuning herself into the rocking motion
of a philanthropic ocean;
She is your clair de lune, your telling rune
beneath the velvet cloak of a thickening eve
she sends you dreams of love and fantasies
that reign as easily as gliding rain
into your hungry heart....
July 29, 2018
Oh the venom on these lips
cold fury should you
taste it there. Drink
deep my gathering gloom
quench your thirst for
my lies and my truths
and my muted thoughts.
Stand still frozen dead
in pools of wonder and
dread for this poison
that seeps into your
pores will not soon
leave the haunted spaces
your frightened places
there will be myriad traces
where it killed the
wonder it found in your
dull and dreary mind.
Choke on toxic thoughts
vomit my musings and
spit forth guts colored
black with doubt and
fear and torment stain
the ground with your
loosened purpose your
pathetic beliefs that
words are always intentions
of the noble and righteous.
Tree branches bowed under the weight of the snow,
like penitents kneeling, as Christmas shoppers reveled
in the joy of the season. I left the house and struggled
through the snow-clogged streets to meet a man
I hadn't seen in years. He was the model of discretion,
a confidant. I could always count on his fidelity and trust.
I shivered, pulled the scarf more tightly round my neck,
and pushed my way through the milling crowds to await
his arrival. And there he was. The old familiar shambling gait,
the oft-worn brown fedora perched upon his head,
and suddenly I felt better.
I chose a dimly lighted tavern. We ordered drinks and dinner;
linguini and shrimp, a dish for which we shared a common relish.
Our conversation was tentative at first, until the effects
of the alcohol loosened our tongues, and we talked of Oxford,
days full of happy memories.
But later, as the evening wore on and the tavern's customers
left with errands of their own, we were left alone.
Silence descended. Thoughts of earlier in the day came crashing
down upon me. He sensed something was wrong, as he always did.
"She left me," I blurted out, sobbing uncontrollably.
He said nothing, and gently squeezed my hand.
How far away the winds have blown
So many of the loves I’ve known
So many of the seasoned hearts
That cradled me through stops and starts
So far away the scattered leaves
In thoughts upon a breast that heaves
For love as I now reminisce
So needed at a time like this
When feeling loosened and untied
As flowers, one by one, have died
And gardens filled of what I know
Feel likely not to ever grow
Yet winds may blow to spread the seed
Again to flourish all I need
Once love begins, it will remain
Another life then to regain
And with me, I am not alone
For love, that has to me, been shown
Will always be here by my side
No matter how the winds abide
Your loosened hair
Gleaming in the benign sun
Roses in our blood inhale dense air
Decking up before departure has begun
The green is paling one by one
It's the dance of death in colour
A fountain of farewell with a hue
For the cracking bones of October
Palliating painters seated in queue
Picasso brown red and blue
The message on the train is as clear as an apple
Our hues are too fleeting to hold
Come let's dance dear before yellowing begins in maple
Before our roots get too old
Under the introverted autumn sun let's melt our gold
October 20, 2020
Autumn Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Francine Roberts
I loosened my grip on yesterday
and watched it fall,
without reaching after it.
Once, I loved you
so deeply
I mistook your leaving
for the end of the world.
The morning came,
but I could not understand
how the sun still rose
when everything inside me
had gone dark.
Your name lived
in the quiet places
between the walls,
inside old songs,
in the empty half
of a bed
I no longer slept in.
I thought heartbreak
was a door slammed shut,
the final page,
the death of every tomorrow.
I mourned the life
I had imagined with you,
and for a while
I could not imagine
a life without you.
Then one morning,
I opened the window.
The air did not ask
what I had lost.
It simply entered.
And somewhere beyond
the ache of yesterday,
a bird was singing
as though the world
had never ended.
That was when I understood
some endings
do not bury us.
Some endings
bury the person
we were before the loss.
I still carry
the shape of what we were.
I still remember
the warmth of your hands,
the promises,
the laughter,
the beautiful foolishness
of believing forever
was something love could guarantee.
But I no longer reach
for what has gone.
I loosened my grip on yesterday
and watched it fall
without reaching after it.
And for the first time,
I did not feel abandoned
by tomorrow.
I felt invited.
So I stepped forward
not because I stopped loving you,
not because it didn't hurt,
but because somewhere
between losing you
and finding myself,
I learned
the world had not ended.
Only ours had.
And there was still
a whole sky
waiting for me
to begin again.
A surly old maid
had an urge to be laid
and bemoaned her virginal status
with life discontented
her plight she lamented:
"'tis not easy to live without coitus."
A scheme she invented
got polished and scented
tweaked her pointers to swing more voluptuous
with a rose-scented blanket
and aphrodisiac banquet
whisked her beau to the beach to be fructuous
Clad in scant mini
whence peeked her bikini
bent on bidding her cherry adieu
purred words mildly profane
wined him champagne
dined him fare with venereal value
To hone his libido
entrèed on baked avo
oysters, scallops and honey-glazed almond
lips enticingly luscious
sucked asparagus
sneaked a look if what matters had hardened
As was he, she became cocky:
ogled what was now stocky
with no inhibition she fussed and she flirted
our virgin opened her mouth
with one hand down south
loosened a knot and lay there unskirted
Decidedly heady
her lover was ready
to pick her rosebud unsoiled hitherto
her lush lips he fingered
where he lovingly lingered
to prepare for their kissing debut
With a bolt sat upright
said, his voice somewhat tight:
"Your mouth is a pit of infection.
I swear I was keen
but your mouth lacks hygiene
foul breath made me lose my ********."
It was nineteen ninety nine
a battle was about to begin
between the Indian Army
with the soldiers from Pakistan
My name is Yogendra Singh Yadav
a grenadier awarded the Param Vr Chakra
the highest honour for gallantry
this is how the fight begun
A stone loosened and fell as we climbed that hill
after three nights of carefully silently climbing
the Pakistan soldiers opened fire
from bunkers metres above us not a good thing
Neither up or down we could go
heavy firing caused eighteen officers and men
to retreat leaving just seven jawans
with one hundred and thirty five men above us then
We fired at the nearest bunker killing the men
the Pakistani army came to assess our strength with ten men
managed to kill eight but two of them escaped able
to report back now we were in a predicament
I carried twenty five kilo of ammunitions
the battle was fierce, we killed thirty five of them,
my six soldiers were killed also,
I was alone, lying amongst the corpses
They shot at the corpses making sure all were dead
I received fifteen gunshot injuries and my gun was taken
had grenade in my pocket, i pulled the ring and threw
landed in cap of one of the soldiers, exploded,he was on his way to heaven
They thought the indian army had returned
I picked up a Peeka rifle off one of the Pakistani soldiers
killing five soldiers, heard the voice saying retreat
to attack a MMG base further down the hill
I dumped myself in a drain, in no time was at base
saw the officer Lt.Balwan advised Pakistan army was on its way
Charlie and Delta was deployed to help Bravo Company
This resulted in the hill being taken by the Indian Army
This war took seven hours, and Tiger Hill was safe
I have been given a plot of land by the Utah Pradesh Government for my part in the battle.
Reference I used
Targil Battle - Tiger Hill (I put that name into search engine). Seven hour battle that won Tiger Hill.
Penned 4 April 2015
Gone are the fields of winter white
soon to be replaced by hues of greens and yellows,
in the interim, fields of barren brown and dirty gold
turned, to breathe warm air from departed winter chill
Plumes of black and gray from mans machine
kneading the back of Mother Earths desire,
before impregnating her with the many seeds
that will produce offspring to quench mans many needs
oh, how lonesome she looks, so alone
holding yet to some remnants of children past,
left only to cradle her dead, left by man
yearning to suckle new life, as only a Mother can
Above, from the heavens, Father prepares
to germinate those so many seeds,
with life sustaining necessities only he is allowed
sunlight and life giving rain, loosened from the clouds
within days Mother is impregnated
she can feel the multitudes of organic life,
moving within her womb, yearning,growing, needing
the escape, to be warmed and nourished by the Sun
Minutes turn to hours, hours to days
suddenly weeks pass,and yet another life,
giving rain, descends from guilded clouds
arms and fingers, of her children, open, sustained
nearing the end of a warm and wonderful summer
it is time for Fathers other children,
to reap what he has sewn
time for Mother Earth to let her children go
My, how they have grown, tall,lush and full
of the fruit they were meant to bear,
to provide nourishment for the masses of seeds
grown to maturity, in need from the father
Again, the gray black plumes of mans machine
come to life, they move through her fields,
her children, like a predator among prey
until, she is left again, with remnants of children past
Soon she will be blanketed again in winter white
gone will be the warm breath of life,
her children taken from her, she is again barren
only to be betrothed to a promise of new life.
I wrote this on a day trip to Illinois from Iowa across wide open farm land.
God Bless....Taz