Best Lowing Poems
The farm
and the porch light hums
the sound of another
orange dawn.
Burnt up – crisp
aching new reaches
of the imagination turn
from corn
to wheat
to the pungent shade
of dried blood on hands –
kissing corners of a mouth
never kissed.
Sweeping ‘cross in whispers
two thousand years
and more, come
words on the flat-line horizon,
dripping sideways,
like a red cat's eye marble
on a circular seesaw
that knows no bounds;
rolling infinitely back
and forth -
ringing through ears that were once
in that ago (can you hear it?)
hearing the coming of a storm
being heard
by another set of ears,
in some other when –
some other marble.
When, speaks the unspoken.
When, treads where none may tread.
When, grips the barren outcroppings of space –
playing the unending moments –
where no other question hence forth
can grip.
Night sounds come in floods
of mauve,
and quiet apricot;
slicing through oceans,
unsung,
where no ears hear.
The farm: echoing, lowing and fawning –
Trying to stay true
to form,
bleeds into the fibers of a dream
once lived –
recognizing its existence
through the act of a moment,
lived.
The girl turns to face
the enormity
of all she has yet to hear upon
the brazen, blazing horizon;
she strips down to goose bumps
on the skin
that God gave her;
opening her mouth to hear all
that she is –
breathing in the dawn
as it breaks.
The farm notes this coming.
The sky knows;
The wind knows.
The earth knows - relaxing
at her feet
exhaling
through her soles,
resounding through the mouth
of the un-kissed,
breathing through this land;
humming through porch lights,
spinning through atoms,
sifting though heavens,
recorded through lifetimes,
and through into another’s
open mouth.
© Kristin Reynolds 1/9/09
Categories:
lowing, life, people, philosophy, time,
Form:
Free verse
As dark canvas unfurls bit by bit
Randomly gulping down acrylic paints of dusk
To satisfy his own thirst, not for long, to sprawl
Into a magical cosmos - flapping his dark wings atop
Swirling soft fair clouds that rock and roll
Through gray-black, myriad dazzling stars so
Idyllic, and artistically spilt sparkling stardust
Charm the sky as if shiny pompoms and buttons;
Night sky lights up my gloomy mind:
In its artsy glory, I savour a tick of tranquil clock;
Glowing bright, stars and moon transmit rays of
Harmony. Aw! tiny drops of opals and diamonds
Thrown arbitrarily at pitch-dark canvas as if
Showcasing splash liquid art - so bright and brilliant;
Knitting a charcoal-black fabric of captivating stars and moon,
Yay! our night sky is shining, inspiring my bardic pupils.
Date: 01/13/2023
Lipogram Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Categories:
lowing, night, sky,
Form:
Acrostic
Goth mood’s not right, not bright enough.
Fountain of sea, rapt in darkness.
Crepuscular ink blocks sunlight.
The cursive waves doth strain the wrist.
Fa-la-la rhymes, leaping and lowing.
Counting the black sheep - times not slowing.
Fountain of sea, deep in darkness.
Coarse keys, ivory black, musing.
The cursive waves doth strain the wrist.
Resist of playful sounds - thirsting.
Fa-la-la rhymes, leaping and lowing.
Counting the black sheep - times not slowing.
Coarse keys, ivory black, musing,
and refusing to budge - lines spurn.
Resist of playful sounds - thirsting.
The burn hisses and squeals; smudges.
Fa-la-la rhymes, leaping and lowing.
Counting the black sheep - times not slowing.
And refusing to budge, lines spurn.
Crepuscular ink blocks sunlight.
The burn hisses and squeals; smudges.
Goth mood’s not right, not bright enough.
Categories:
lowing, writing,
Form:
Pantoum
Azure-accentuated ambiance awaits aspiring artists
Baby’s birth brings blessings, blowing boredom-blues
Cool calmness charms circumspect chefs to create cuisine cravings
Daybreak dos and don’ts discipline drivers from direction-dazzles
Enlightenment-exercise empowers engineers in their endeavors...
Fiery fluorescent fearlessness fuels firefighters’ faith-fortitude’s fervor
Glowing grace of God gears guardians for guiding governance
Hope highlights health-helpers’ handlings midst heightened heaviness
Illumined instructors inspire with their influence-iridescence
Justice-jubilation juxtaposed with jurisprudence-judgment joins jury...
Kaleidoscopic kindness-keys keep kinship’s knot kindling
Light’s luster leads liberation-lovers to lift the lamenting and lowly
Morning’s majestic magnificence moves mothers with mercies'* might
Nourishing nurses’ nurture and nature negates night’s negligence
Overwhelming opportunities open officials for output-optimization...
Peace-packed period pulls prayer-partners into Providence presence
Quality quotes quiet the querulous' qualms and quixotics' questions
Redolent reflections refocus reviewers against regretful reveries
Spiritual songs by soprano soloists shut silence-stillness
Triumphant thanksgiving tops tight timetable of tenacious teachers...
Ultimate urgency upholds undaunted umpires unto usefulness
Verses vanquish vanities vying against vision of the victors
Watchfulness warmth wakes the weary to welcome words of wisdom
X rays of ‘xpertise ‘xamination x-out ‘xpectations for a Xanadu
Yes-yells yearn for youth yielded yeah-yowls from yesterdays’ yets
Zion's zephyr zooms the zealously zestful to zenith of prize-zillions!!!
*Lamentations 3:22-23 It is of the LORD'S mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning:
great is thy faithfulness.
Abecedarian and alliteration forms
July 28, 2018
Edited on May 19, 2022
1st place, "ABCEDARIAN POEM" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger; judged on 6/4/2022.
Categories:
lowing, appreciation, blessing, encouraging, faith,
Form:
Abecedarian
I question Adam’s hymn, O’ Holy Night,
while I retreat upstairs on Christmas Eve
comparing his to mine to fill the night:
His was a quill that spilled of quelling leaves,
of grace contrived to save the petty thieves
once hung from twigs composed of disbelief
condemned to hell for causing others grief.
His notes were angels on a snowy plain.
His words were lowing, pure, and eloquent.
His song, when sung, reminds of cleansing rain;
a prayer of praise for God’s embodiment:
For unto us, a Son, the Father sent,
whose death would cleanse the hearts of guilty men
whose path through life was one composed of sin.
And now I question: What’s defined as sin?
Is it to squeeze a heart that’s mostly innocent
and quell the rhythmic joy that beats within?
To steal my child, so pure and eloquent
and lock away my love’s embodiment?
A midnight hurr’cane sent to swell my pain
that leads to mourning Christmas once again?
Mine’s not a song it’s a SCREAM drenched in grief!
Where is MY daughter, god? Why did she leave?
My knees won’t budge for no more than a thief
who threatens damnation unless we believe!
But, there’s a calmness felt on Christmas Eve.
And when I’m back downstairs, it’s by His light
I pen this poem that I need to write.
Date: 11/24/2018
Contest: CHRISTMAS MOURNING
Sponsor: PS Awtry
Categories:
lowing, anger, christian, christmas, daughter,
Form:
Rhyme Royal
Manger Shadow
A shadow lurks behind the manger bed
Swaddled by indifference,
Creeping behind
Lowing cows
And
Bleating sheep,
Power without power raising up a hoary head
While in vanity dim shades attempt to weave
A gloomy thread into the scent
Of frankincense
And
Myrrh;
Endeavoring to cover ears of prophecy,
Encouraging ignorance
With busyness in crowded streets
Of travelers taxed,
Bowed down with burdens;
No Gloria’s heaven sent
As shadows pass in front of starlight
On highways straight
Deserts wild
Mountains leveled
And star-struck strangers
Asking only for directions;
Where flowers,
Blooming in the wilderness,
Lay trampled
Beneath pilgrim’s feet;
Trying to drown out
Amen
And
In Excelsis Deo
Shouted out in triumph
To wide eyes
Keeping watch
Beneath olive trees
Rather
Longing to smother a baby’s breath
With a snarl,
Rejoicing only in the anticipated silence;
To leave no room at the inn
For goodwill
Or
Shalom Eternal
Yet cower in a nightmare’s chaos,
Breath held in,
For a kingdom lost by victory
Already claimed;
Futility, the unwelcomed guest,
Birthing fury
That pounds upon the chest of truth,
Stalking the Word protected
By holiness,
Claiming dice unfairly loaded
To howl
In rage
As justice and as peace now kiss –
As swords and spears
Rise up
As plows and pruning hooks
To tend the vineyard of the King
Then sing out the great glad tidings
On a mountaintop
Where people walk out of darkness
Into light.
Categories:
lowing, christmas,
Form:
Free verse
Oh, pretty little butterfly, flitting all around.
You can flash dance colorfully even with no sound.
Hummingbird, I see you too. You flap your wings so fast.
You super duper flapper, you are having such a blast!
Bumble bee, big bumble bee, your buzzing song is rare.
Few insects sing the way you do while dancing in the air.
Oh, katydids and crickets, I hear your soothing call.
It is the song of summer time when night begins to fall.
Oh, nights of summer I don’t want for you to pass me by
without the flicker lights I see from the firefly.
Oh, firefly so talented, no creature is like you.
Your flash dance is amazing as darkness you pass through.
Refrain:
Watch and listen, everyone,
whether beneath the moon or sun.
Nature has more skills than you may know.
Sit back a while and just enjoy the show!
Oh, deer that prance and lambs and colts gamboling in play.
I also love to hear the tunes, like the donkey’s bray,
the lowing of the cattle and the baaing of the sheep,
and even baby chicks when they go peep peep peep.
Mammals of the wild, how you howl and how you roar -
You’re a jungle orchestra that tourists can’t ignore.
Oh, birds that strut, your mating moves are so interesting
along with all the pretty songs so many of you sing.
Water’s music rushes as over rocks it goes.
Ocean laps a lullaby; with rhythm each tide flows.
Breezes make leaves dance; I sometimes hear wind croon.
Oh, birds, swirl on, and dolphins, glide and whistle your fun tune!
Refrain:
Watch and listen, everyone,
whether beneath the moon or sun.
Nature has more skills than you may know.
Sit back a while and just enjoy the show!
Categories:
lowing, nature,
Form:
Lyric
I squint my eyes from the glaring sun
As I drive cattle across the open range.
I am the youngest hand, so I ride drag
Covered by the dust stirred into the wind.
This is the life I have chosen
To hear the steady creaking of my saddle
The songs of the cowboys as they lead the herd
The lowing cattle as they smell water.
This is the life I live
To see the endless stretches of prairie
The hens and rabbits scuttling away
The ponderous beasts flowing in a living stream.
This is the life I love
Watching the horses graze peacefully at night
The cattle milling about during my night ride
My horse's gentle breathing as I circle them.
May this be my lot while here I remain
May I drink from the freely flowing streams
And breathe the pairie air until I die.
Whether life be short or long
May I ever onward toil, and be content
With the satisfaction of honest work
With the steady pounding of hooves
Biscuits and chili by a wavering fire
And sleeping under the sky on the open range.
Categories:
lowing, animal, cowboy-western, horse, life,
Form:
Free verse
There was once a king who decided that for him - beauty was silence.
He issued a decree that all sound was banished henceforth and that his land would forever more be as silent as snow. To enforce this impossible law he sent countless envoys to every corner of the land. Every creature was informed. No birds can sing. No dogs must bark. No man, woman or child could speak their needs and must now make them known by signs. Even the very thunder was ordered to be mute.
The penalty of course was death. Few were able to obey.
Flocks of birds were shot from the heavens. Dogs were slain before their master’s eyes. All the trees were stripped of leaves lest the wind should sigh through them. Brooks were frozen so water could not splash or gurgle down the stream beds.
It was like a permanent winter with bare trees and frozen ground.
Children at play were wiped out without mercy. Cows being herded were bombed for lowing. This unmerciful killing went on for many years.
The merest sound so angered the King that he ordered atrocious punishments for offenders that he did not kill.
The talents of artist were in great demand as they painted cards for all occasions for people to flash. in lieu of speaking. The effect on the population was to cause the formation of many covert societies where secret meetings, when betrayed, were raided and countless murders committed by the ‘silence’ enforcers.
The King was greatly feared by everyone and dubbed “Snowman - the Silencer”
Generations of good people were wiped out. Countless noisy species were hunted to extinction. Music was never heard or played.
Silent clocks were invented. Sound-proof rooms were built. Some desperate parents, to protect their children, opted to have their babies larynx-es removed at birth.
The King was surrounded by silent apathetic, joyless subjects.
The King’s obsession had effectively destroyed all the people, the life and the environment around him.
How much easier it would have been, if he, in wanting silence had only thought to destroy his own eardrums.
Categories:
lowing, allegory, evil, humanity, power,
Form:
Prose
My Goddess
I
Met A
Goddess! FroM
The very starT
Of course it was heR
Had dreamt of this daY
Pierced my ennuI
An unseeN
KnifinG
ShiV
LifE
NeveR
More clearlY
Defined. The patH
It changes in A
Flash now she is neaR
Mind is openeD
I n t u i T
Key tO
LocK
Eyes
Each glow
Pleasant smile
Moment lingers
Your curly brown hair
Showering strong shoulders
Every breath filling bosom
Lusciousness, sinuously moves
Flowing across the room, wild river
Frozen deer I become, looking but not,
Round, wide eyes misdirecting intention
Obvious I’m caught. Could you be too?
Meeting for the first time, crowds part
S m i l i n g d e s p i t e m y s e l f
Te l e g r a p h i n g i n t e n t
All pretense forgone
Reaching deeply
I asked you
Now my
Girl
5/7/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
Categories:
lowing, inspiration, love, sexy, wife,
Form:
Etheree
Sleeping In Nana’s
day concludes in glory
beyond the forest wall
suspended on a whippoorwill’s song
a muffled out board glides the narrows
past Hick’s farm
humming its sated fisher home
somewhere a screen door slams
crack, into the gather of night
sharp contrast to settled sounds of dusk
while cow bells soft metallic clang
echoes the way home
for lowing milky cattle, through the wood
fire in the next room hisses greedily
welcome to another meal of logs
a briar pipe taps staccato on the granite hearth
now click lit to quiet drawing sound
the old daybed creaks from seated weight
a coffee cup thunks down upon the arm
nightly news rustles into place
outside again, the bullfrogs
begin their baritone calls
a hungry raccoon chitters on the shore
then loons begin their plaintive calls
to distant cold faced stars
as wind brings a hushing of the night
each sound gathers to me
a cottage lullaby
rest safe and warm
drifting off to sleep
in Nana’s bed.
Categories:
lowing, childhood, summer, sunset, ,
Form:
Free verse
The River
The river sings its sweet lament
in ancient voice softly lowing,
vibrant melodies subtly meant
to plumb the depths of our knowing.
Around each bend it curves, flowing
onward toward its fated reunion
with unkempt sea, wild and blowing;
embracing briney communion.
Its serpentine course scars the land
in undulant brown profusion;
shimmering gold in twilight's hand,
a gift of nature's effusion.
Pregnant spring plies it, unleashing
tempest's turgid downpour to slake
the lusty spate's thirst unceasing,
leaving ravaged marl in its wake.
Torrid summer's breath chars the soil
and saps the river of its strength,
but cool and sweet, the river's toil
paints a green ribbon down its length.
Demon winter glazes the earth,
garbs the river in frigid gown,
draws a pane of ice over its girth
but fails to stay its flowing down.
Since time out of mind, the river
has carved canyons from stubborn stone
and sought naught but to deliver
its lifeblood back to heaven's home.
Categories:
lowing, nature,
Form:
Pastoral
BEAUTIFUL FALL
Blowing winds usher in colorful fall's parade
Elusive as a butterfly on the wing in an
Atmosphere that changes everything.
Uniting leaves to depart from their boughs,
Trees dressed in scarlet, gold, orange and brown
Inflight, twirl and dance their way toward ground
Filling eyes with such breathless imagery
Until the last leaf has retired to rest
Leaving bare trees to welcome snowdrifts.
Fall arrayed in hues to warm us from her chill
Always gives us grace from summer heat
Loveliest season of the year when
Lovers rejoice in the poetic beauty of it all.
9-5-18
Categories:
lowing, autumn, beautiful,
Form:
Acrostic
Beneath the passage of the sun
I surrender thoughts to a mindless haze
and turn my eyes around to gaze
upon the wave of rolling hills,
where tender grass is ever growing--
Where cattle graze, with sounds of lowing
among the fragrant flowers, wild
I will smile and play, just like a child..
and will try my best, with careful step
to crush not life, not even one...
For in the blades of tender grass
that turns to gold upon the fall
are villages, in burrows small
Their lives must count, both great and small,
where smallest ants cast long dark shadows,
and workers strive to build a shelter
Each precious life, that forges hallows
are made by God, forever hallowed
I will smile and play, just like a child..
and will try my best, with careful step
to crush no life, not even one...
Categories:
lowing, happiness, nature,
Form:
Free verse
The wind whispered loudly,
Screaming through the trees
Every leaf emerald and alive,
The height of fertile spring
All the cattle lowing,
As the bright fire stronger burns
Maidens pale and glistening,
Thunder-round and turn
Wolfish warriors circle,
Blood thirsty for the chase
The willows moan in longing,
To rest before blistering days
The stones stay true to silence,
Praying for summers break
And though through midnight a cold wind blows,
The fire eternal stays
Categories:
lowing, earth, fairy, farm, fire,
Form:
Free verse