Best Marbled Poems
Arousing opulence of ancient ballrooms
She creates her own make-believe world
Waltzing coyly in terpsichorean rhythms
Upon glittering stage where they sell love
Each time she caresses arms of a stranger,
Pretending to levitate in sultan’s harem
In glitzy appeal of polygamous mansions
Where she reiterates to sighs of ambivalence--
This used to be once the venue of glamour.
But her allegory of ardor quickly fades
As her disillusioned ego yearns for solace
When invisible bruises begin to ache
Having surrendered esteem to ruthless nights
Trading dead-feelings in lavish marbled halls
Where stench of alcohol, perfumes, and cigars
Traps perturbed anguish inside prison walls
From which, she knows, there’s no escape.
Initiation period for her was the hardest
When beauty and youth at height of apex
Squandered her magical Cinderella zeal
Abandoning fabled-castle her childhood built
Crying into that gutless, gruesome night
For lacking the force of fortitude to leave
Before she condemned her soul into abyss.
She’s worthless to the heartless crowd now—
A shriveled rose desolate in parched garden,
A discarded bottle of expensive scotch;
So, voicing contempt, like a caged bird she sings
About the wedding night she always fancied
Reciting lyrics, crooning spent feelings,
Whispering the names she picked for her kids.
Look closely at her, she has no chains now,
She can abscond easily whenever she wants
But, alas, no longer has she the desire to fly;
For her mutilated spirits relentlessly bleed
Ever since her own hands clipped her wings.
August 29, 2020
Placed 1st: Woman in chains poetry contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Inspired by Woman in Chains song by Tears for Fears
Lights dimmed in a cool marbled hall
a solitary candle flickers
soft chamber music echoes
and my thoughts turn to You
down on my knees
memories come as love has gone
how many times have I begged
to have a heart to hold
a bond to build
an angel to adore
Again I beg for the courage
the strength to carry on
to lead
to live
to love
unconditionally
A bright ray of sunshine
filters through the stained glass window
illuminating your image
heartaches soothe as I take in your essence
and I know
my heart is meant for You
Just one touch of your hand
and I taste the late evening stars
It would help me forget
the last sound of poured rain
yet it makes me remember
those undying sparks
Just one touch of your hand
and I live once again
in moonlit yesterdays
I'd belong to that time
When you came in my life
Looked me straight in the eyes
and rekindled old flames
Just one touch of your hand
and you're mine
You're mine and mine alone
You're the breeze on my cheek
the smile in my sleep
You're the feeling I feared
yet a feeling I need all along
You're the present and past
You're the dew in the dust
You're the moment,the memory
You're mild passions once born
An emotion's serenity.
Just one touch of your hand
makes this heart understand
that the sun would never be gone
Its never too late to reach heaven's gate
To whisper I love yous as I place a blue rose
on your marbled headstone.
Just a note-Absence or death are not the end of love
but only the beginning of a feeling that is deeper
than love itself...
And I have loved you more than love itself..
a fiction poem
They rise up before me, marbled stones like the stars
are embracing the evening, while they shatter the heart
Scattered fields, vast and somber, keeping silent the valiant
who have fallen so bravely, while forsaking the cost
Many names are forgotten, and some have been lost
New crosses still growing from the damp grass below me
I have lost count, as my eyes seek horizons
Reflecting on lives of the soldiers, unknown
Deeply I'm falling without knowing how far
Into the depths of the fields that have drawn me
Into reflection and asking the questions
That are tossed to the sky, without answers to why
My eyes can't believe all the sadness before me
I have lost count and my heart drowns in sorrow
Searching for reason, seeking answers, unknown
_________________________________________
7/15/15
I used to like barbells, enjoyed pumping iron,
my Nautilus* gym was one happy environ.
Those posters of 6-packs and marbled biceps
inspired me to start counting carbs, pounds, and reps.
My trainer would coax, "hold as long as you can!"
Doing deadlifts I felt like a WAS a dead man
The kettlebell, medicine ball - hated those,
since dropping 'em both on my poor little toes.
My dad-bod and willpower soon parted ways,
after only 1 set, I was shell-shocked for days
My back hurt, my knees ached, I'd injured my hips,
after grimacing nonstop, I'd sprained both my lips.
Oy! The sharp pain that shoots
through my quads, delts and glutes...
Now my game plan is shifting
no more power lifting.
To planks, it's "no thanks",
I'm expunging all lunging.
I feel stabs in my abs,
there's a hex on my pecs
and my lats shriek like bats.
When I tweak my oblique
I am sore to the core...
and I want it no more.
The rowing machine is no longer my scene
I loathe those squats lots and I hate crunches bunches.
Do sit-ups or push-ups? Do jump-ups or chin-ups?
I'm more inclined now to do lots of "I-give-ups".
My doc tried convincing me I'd be less tired?
I'm questioning how that poor man's brain is wired!
I felt half exhausted just WATCHING staff clean
the ellipticals, treadmills, and stair-climb machine.
Then... I found when I stood on the locker room scale
That my plan to lose weight was a sad epic fail!
I'm done! I have finished my very last burpee -
I just want a hot dog and super-size Slurpee.
What happened to wanting to feel fit and well?
When it came to workouts, I was just a dumbbell.
I've resolved now to walk more, or swim a few laps
maybe jog, ride my bike, play some tennis, take naps.
That's right, getting plenty of rest seems so plain,
it appears the most challenging muscle to train ...
is the brain.
* Nautilus is a brand of gym equipment
written 2 Oct 2022
+Her Spirit Sublime+
She knelt in God's marble chapel, in her uniform.
A suit of deep,forest green with fresh white blouse
honoring God, her King.
So young, she bowed her shiny brunette head in reverence,
Hearing the robins sing, that teenage spring, singing
in angelic consonance.
Her prayerbook of black leather, gold-leaf edges and
ribboned marker of red,
Made her realize as she stroked it, that is was only by God
was she to be led.
The delicate scent of candles that burnt so bright!
The artwork of mosaiced windows, sunlit-hued made her
feel heavenly light.
Her crystal, beaded rosary which transformed,the white marbled
walls, into a supernatural rainbow divine.
Grateful, to be in a school, that this memory still sings in her memory, sweet,alive and utterly, sublime!
11-30-2020
10:30am PST
**Poem of the Day**
12/2/2020
Dedication~ to my high school and religious mentors, who taught
me who runs this world! Thank you.
Dedicated to Timothy Lee
Joy harnessed from soft internal lightness
was pulse promised with attraction’s might
and sealed blissful bound by our first kiss …
with lips our hearts found their home address
Our emotive blessings deafen my questions
and ease my perception’s limitations
for you are my parceled Eden freedom …
our haven structure is couple completion
I chose marbled strength upheaval plans
that thru change I might someday know your name
and realize you like I breathe in nature …
no matter your season, it reaps my pleasure
For the first time in my heart’s entire life
I’ve no need to incite change thru strife’s design
and limp again within my dreams scorched rubble
to find my soulmate while my pains struggle
adventure, growing up, hip hop, repetition, word play
A ONE STEP AT A TIME ©
Life is but a hopscotch path
Players vying for placement
Rules to follow aground
Tokens used for good luck
Practice runs lead to safe landings
Over ever-changing terrains
Hop skip and jump!
Land on a crack
You break your Mudder’s back
Marbles fill a bag of loot
Once directed into home holes
Missed turns are your takings
Marbled cat eyes forever coveted!
Crayons come in packs
Pick a colour to your taste
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Black is for rain clouds
Gone is a sun yellow
A is for Apple-
B is for Bunny-
C is for caterwauling
Letters up for a draw
Lettered tongues speak
The bad, good and the ugly
Making mountains out of mole hills!
Name-calling never hurts
Pain hurts from thrown stones
Calling one to take a chance
Towards another hopscotch
With hop skips and jumps
One step, two steps, three steps more!
It could have been a beautiful memory to write down
Walking hand in hand with mama
My long brown french pleats bouncing in the wind
My new red plastic boots ready to be shown.
Reaching high upon my tiptoes ...
I swung the large french brass knob back and forth
until my short chubby sweet nonna opened the door.
As soon as I saw her, my hazel eyes changed
into different shades of caramel swirl.
I am her first born niece, and her little girl.
It could have been a beautiful memory to write down
Running up those marbled tiles , gazing through the hallway
at the two dark giant iron knights . How I wish I could have been
like them , just as brave and wise.
In the busy kitchen I hugged nonna over and over again
I loved how her apple and cinnamon pies wafted ,filling Saturdays 'air.
I loved the teaspoon sounds , as the sugar in the coffee cup was stirred
It was a symphony , blissful music to my ear.
Next to mama ,in the dining room , on a padded orange rexine chair I sat
Playing snakes and ladders whilst I heard them chat.
It could have been a beautiful memory to write down
If I had not followed uncle Bob that afternoon
Along the long corridor we walked , to his room
At the far end, Inside, I was promised a delightful surprise.
The red velvet curtains He shut down. All turned dark !
The squeaky old door slammed . I could listen
to the fast rapid beating of his vacant heart.
I could feel him getting close , too close .
I could smell his stinking breath and feel his hand
It slipped hungrily , unbuttoning my innocence and collar shirt.
He pushed me down on my knees, head and face both pressed.
My lollipop lips too close to sour scents , I would never forget.
Everynight cold in my bed , I scream - Regret...
I do not want to remember, yet how can I forget
It could have been a beautiful memory to write down
But all I have is a blank page.
In that house of nonna where once I laughed and played
All there is are secrets , insecurity, my shadow and its shame.
Fiction poem inspired by Becca's contest against Child Abuse...
Not for the contest, but thanks for the inspiration.
Going inward
Receiving moments of grace
While time unfolds
Touching your heart with my breath
An expansion
Doorways to enter
Each gift revealed through my willingness
Vulnerability my partner
Coaxing me towards unimagined pleasure and pain
Letting my mind expand
Memories of days
Exploring and discovering
Baiting my first hook
My Father’s deep voice guiding me
Watching his strong hands
Red wigglers in dirt
Alive in a styrofoam cup
We bait our hooks together
Plunge our fishing poles into the pond
A silent communication
Connection shared
Anticipation
Sunlight dancing off the ripples
A moment I carry with me now
Always grateful for my
Depth of consciousness
Inhaling, I travel through time
Naked, I make my way through
Beckoning aqua kissed waters
I look ahead and swim
Allowing sunrays to bathe my body in their warmth
Marbled hues sing out
Bubbles rise
Shadows and sunbeams in a lover’s embrace
I perform a weightless somersault
Smiling in delight as I catch glimpses
Of the watery kingdom encompassing me
Vowing to keep this sacred moment
Alive in my soul forever
From behind a towering coral
You appear
My royal rainbow Parrotfish
Who I have dreamed of
For an eternity
Come to me dear one
Show me your tapestry of glittering scales
Allow me to touch your soft skin
So I may delight in the magic
Of all that you are
Let us glide through the
Nuanced waters of life
Let us experience all the shades
Of dark and light as one
Fill our souls with laughter and love
Let’s ride these undulating tides with kindness
Touching the hearts of others
Joining hands with those in need
Creating an arena
Where all will be heard
Swim with me now
Let’s journey forth
Together my love
4/16/2023
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE no 1208
Poetry Contest
Sponsor:Brian Strand
SECOND PLACE
Put bird feeder by my stone,
so I will never be alone;
plant a tree, apple or pear,
flowers to give the spot some flair;
at least some grass, but do not trim,
so people might come on a whim
to share the earth with one below
lined up along this cemetery row.
A marbled bench would be so nice,
or birdbath for some added spice;
I do not want my resting place
to be unseemly, lacking grace.
As strangers to this virgin land
succumbed to the impossible
we are numbed by grief for what is gone
Astonished by the solitude...
We gaze, without a breath, nor voice
upon the blue veined world once loved
A home we've left behind!
It seems so weightless to the eye
And out of the chill of marbled sorrow
We weep for countless lost tomorrows
Although our eyes might be deceived,
from here, the vision is a lie,
yet remains so beautiful in the sky
We stand wide eyed, upon new shores
And look from here, to the earth so far
How fragile, is our earth still spinning
As we grasp at new beginnings
How precarious a world, untouched, can be
Have we learned, from where we've been?
We must recall,.... recall it all
Look how it spins, against the stars
Oh God, ...so fragile, frail and small
Let me turn my head,
I cannot bear to watch,
I must close my eyes
before it falls....
_____________________________
White dove's wings flutter in crepuscular light
As I visit your gravestone's marbled sadness
To let my soul linger through the long night
Still, the loneliness now measured in years
A beggar of alms for the price of love's tears
Pulled from the grave of my heart's madness
On my knees of torment, I scream at the pain
For my soul of white roses turned midnight blue
Death stole their lifeblood, your love had sustain
Now buried in memories when the daylight fades
Left with nothing but darker realms of shades
When all the white roses died with you
12/27/18 contest Rhymes times 7-deep and Dark
Here they are before me,
surreal in the dazzling morning sun.
Against clear skies of blue, and
peaked snow-capped mountains-
these tall glaciers of Alaskan ice,
stand heavenly before my eyes.
Their marbled, glistening whites,
with multi shades of blue,
arcane crevices and jagged peaks-
stir visions of cold, ghost-like forms
that glare at me in this mysterious Bay
of murmurous creaks and moans.
More than the eye can see,
these lustrous glaciers speak,
like eerie, moving forms,
in corridors that shift and moan-
and with their loud sonorous wails,
give birth- calving chunks that fall.
With an abrupt, roaring explosion,
all at once, it starts- the large,
calved segment plummets to the sea.
Waves and splashes follow every birth.
These exotic glaciers live and speak-
more than the eye can see.
April 25, 2016
~2nd Place!
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 3
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Judged: 06/20/2022
~5th Place~
Premiere Contest: Splash
Sponsor: Kai Michael Newmann
Judged: 06/07/2020
Greenwich Village breathes,
She inhales exhausted tepid air,
And exhales blustery winds of possibility.
The lady blows away the veils of dishonesty.
Tangled streets strung together,
Knotted masses of pearls and poetry,
Entwining marbled heroes,rounded arches,
Crucifixes,and snakes penned on skin.
Artists, tourists, vagrants,and scholars,
Know the calling of its siren song well.
People living on the fringe of humanity,
And those from the upper crust, fuse.
The village is the one spot on earth
Where you can expose your primal desires,
And explore their depths unfettered.
She is a lovely harlot who lives to please .
Musicians and thinkers engage in chess,
Neighbors line the benches of it's central park.
Children run naked through its fountains.
The poor and idol rich roam, anonymously.
A reader of fortunes lays out his cards,
Lovers tango,who knows which one leads?
Perhaps all the seekers will find their way,
And the leaders will learn how to see?
Lady Greenwich Village,the canvas of New York life,
Her face painted with brilliant spattered oils.
Each of us can add our own divine colors,
Dripping and blending with individual uniqueness.