Best Melting Poems
"Snowflakes Melting before the Diadem"
Winter is coming
and what then?
the dreams frozen
snowflakes falling
we succomb
tongues out waiting
for manna,
pills swallowed
for the diadem
needles of pine
instead of thorns
bedded,
the sweet sleep
is coming,
slowly it cajoles
swiftly it comes
the folded corners
sheets tucked in
the safety barrs
raised, just so,
the corridors
their watching
starched stations
14 in all,
busy with purpose
soft shoe assassins
monitoring our nights,
our energy pulses,
just like veiled brides
more like blue nuns
we sing the
song of souls
like a poet overcome
like a poet finding
new love
bare feet we rise
from our shells
to speak to our
strange astral God
we are now
zephyr
contained as one
some of us
take our time
falling
we are
snowflakes
melting in the Sun
melting
on the lips and
brows of others
we are ghosts
holy and unholy
felt and spoken
some of us
take our time
falling
we sink
into the lips,
and tongues,
the brows
and skin of others
we are
snowflakes
melting
in the Sun
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
via lucis
“It is a song composed by contemplation,
And published by silence,
And shunned by clamor,
And folded by truth,
And repeated by dreams,
And understood by love,
And hidden by awakening,
And sung by the soul.
It is the song of love;
What Cain or Esau could sing it?”
pine. noun.
pine. verb.
stations.
I sit here alone on these jagged sea washed rocks
the seagulls squawk
picking at left over food scraps
left in the sand
smells from the hot dog vendor up on the pier
fill the salty air
the brisk breeze blows softly like your warm breath in my hair
melting moments frozen in time
a time when we walked this very beach
holding hands and holding hearts
a time when we frolicked in the surf
we'd never be apart
soft kisses and long gazes
into your deep loving soul
long talks and soft touches
love beginning to take hold
I close my eyes and remember
remember a time
a time running my hands through
your soft flowing hazel hair
oh how it made my fears disappear
I remember and now I wish
I wish and I hope we can be one again
Come place your hand upon my beating chest
feel my unspoken words
and let our instincts do the rest
The moment I saw you
I fell in love with the universe.
Like raindrops rippling a still pond,
our concentric circles coalesced -
moving past duality and melting into oneness.
Susan Ashley
May 14, 2019
*dedicated to my soulmate and husband, Bill*
~ First Place ~
Contest: May 2019 Premier 5 (Max 5 Lines)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
*The Sufi poet Rumi wrote; “The lover asked his beloved, do you love yourself more than you love me? The beloved replied, I have died to myself but I live for thee.”
Melting through glass like sand through the sea
Burning like fire through the evergreens
When you touch me
Fingers trembling in the extremity
Sprouting to life, a little blossom on a branch
Falling through rocks like an avalanche
When you hold me
My heart flits and flutters incessantly
Floating along a river with a cool summer breeze
Drifting to the heavens under skies like these
When you love me
The heavens and stars are drowned in ecstasy
Melting years,
Moonlight over the coast,
will-o´-the-wisps over the mountains,
like crystals of a rainbow.
Above the spacious valley
in evening glow.
Solitude in light misty blue,
an insatiable longing.
Melting years,
fading memories,
dreams of silver and silence
and in the near forest
confident loneliness.,
a silent day
below retreating clouds
saturates a sunny yellow
green treetops.
Melting years,
forerunnig future,
new dew on old leaves,
thoughtful y spread
into a bottomless day.
In dawn last signs of dusk,
stepless,
the past emptied,
lost colour.
The humid air sweats streaming curls down the toddler’s flush cheeks like Fusilli hot from the stove. The golden ringlets cling to her forehead, bouncing like Slinky’s in front of her, blue-agate, eyes. The backyard’s sounds-bat cracks and wise cracks-surround her. Squeals echo from the mounds of loam behind her new house. The homes out back form a red, yellow, blue, green monopoly board configuration.
The sand box she sits in is full of scrap two-by-four blocks. Using a naked purple-haired troll doll, she attacks the pine-block castle, tumbling the battlement. A plank spans the puddle
(created by the leaky green garden hose). The barefoot tike, troll in hand, starts across the board toward the moonscape of mud mounds; where her sister and friends run screeching armed with rotten tomatoes. She almost makes it before falling in and running mud covered to mother.
Polish Catholics, Italian Catholics and Irish Catholics, lived side by side with English Presbyterian’s and we errant, runaway, Jews. The scent of tomato paste, knackwurst and borscht wafts through the same soupy air, where we play King of the Mountain. Big Boys and Plum tomatoes flew indiscriminately through the August air like missiles. The only thing which stopped the action was the distance ringing bell of the Good Humor truck, here on Cherry Tomato Alley. Here where each new neighbor had transplanted themselves: their children, their gardens, their sprinklers, and their cars to fulfill the American dream.
First Published in Melancholy Hyperbole Spring 2015
The Inuit call the Narwhal the one that points to the sky,
Because of their unique way of aiming their tusk upward;
The scientific name Narwhal means one tooth and one horn,
Narwhals are the subject of mythical tales, legend and lore.
Mottled white gray and black is their skin , so corpse-like,
Most spend the winter in Baffin Bay, northern Canada;
In heavy packs of ice, a world of giant crashing ice burgs,
A treeless white tundra that goes on forever and ever.
The Narwhal can dive down miles in the water to feed,
Sadly some die of suffocation due to the surface freezing;
They do need to take breaths through cracks in the ice,
One must wonder, why they choose this frozen location.
Narwhals summer in Hudson Bay, Greenland and Russia,
Moving through narrow channels during the spring melt;
They are threatened by overhunting by the Inuit for food and ivory,
Also from mining and drilling and from global warming.
Such amazing creatures, a fantastic animal of fifteen feet,
With this incredible long spiraled tusk, unicorn-like;
An eight foot flexible horn that bends to the left, mysteriously,
Actually a tooth that continues to grow all of their life.
All males have these tusks along with another smaller tooth,
Emerging from their upper jaw, with no apparent use;
Not anything to do with a weapon or for fishing or for eating fish,
It seems to be a beautiful male adornment for finding love.
Often they are seen rubbing tusks, this is called tusking,
It is thought to be not only part of mating but hierarchy;
Narwhals communicate by clicking, whistling and knocking,
A haunting sound the pierces the frozen silent ice world.
In past years, many were captured for scientific study,
However, they all died in captivity, it seems they need ice;
Some wild creatures are just not meant to be kept captive,
Many of God's animals are just suppose to be free in nature.
________________________
September 19, 2015
Verse
Written by Broken Wings
For the contest, Impress Me With A Narwhal Poem, sponsor, Skat
Ninth Place
Come my darling with the nightsky
in your hair
And the rose buds on your lips
With eyes of infinite grace that
drowns my sorrows
As if eternity had lost my soul in its
timeless beauty.
In a web of passion I'm entangled
by your love
By your silent breathing through
the helpless night
As if the moonlit sea was drifting
its sweet waves back to me.
Like the dew I melted into your
soft kiss
It was a sweet death I'd die
a thousand times
Never to be found again
For in your soul I breathe!
The snowflakes, white and pure, they ballet in
Like newborn thoughts that surface from within,
we would be wise to treat them tenderly -
just one harsh influence, they cease to be.
And we know not what will become of them.
They wander, yet inside their havens stay
Some find their way and rest upon firm ground,
misled, a few by winds are blown away.
The boots of fate come trampling in on that
which envy, fear and hate already taint.
They fragment those whose flawless structured mat
has glazed itself in nature’s silver paint.
Exagoni, pristine, stay free of fear
though their impending fate remains unclear.
Likewise true thoughts prevail, preserved inside,
though they may be witness to Evil’s tide.
———————————————
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The beauty of diversity..
All shall join hands..
Come together as humanity..
One size fits all..
It matters not what size one wears..
Differences in race and culture..
Is the epitome of universal love..
There exists no hierarchy..
As the beauty of diversity is unique..
The uniqueness is what sheds light on unity..
There is no better ..
There is no best..
All is equal..
All is one ..
All is the breath of life..
As each and every single life is precious..
As the melting pot is filled with blessings..
We are all sacred..
It matters not ..
Where one is born..
We are all born with the loving light of the Creator..
May all of our love and light ..
Bring forth peace and harmony..
All shall join hands..
Unity..
As we continue to come together as humanity..
Melting your frozen heart.
Why do you refuse to feel my love?
Why has your heart grown cold?
It´s so cold it is frozen solid,
beating ever so slowly,
for no one.
A warm smile, a calid embrace,
a compassionate understanding
heart beating for you
right beside you
only for you
here forever
trying to jump start
your
frozen heart
with the electrical
spark of my love.
Have you been abandoned
and hurt so much that
you feel too unworthy to be loved?
Why do you not feel my warmth
as I try to ease your pain?
Your gelid coldness will turn
your frozen heart
into perma frost...
if you don´t
allow yourself to feel
my warmth
there will be a cost.
A price to pay that is far to high...
for a heart
that remains cool
to anothers love
will stay frozen
and will
slowly
die.
A frozen heart
can melt
but it takes time...
to feel love again
can be so surreal
ever so sublime.
Open to me my love...
feel what I feel
with tenderness
kindness and patience
true love is revealed
Open your heart...
let it feel my love´s fire
even from a distance
you can feel the warmth
your heart can melt and
beat with mine
beating as one...together
till the end of time.
John Derek Hamilton
March 1,2016
Mocking the dead, is that a thing?
How many ways can one be disrespecting?
Laws that cause offenders to be free?
Rape kits that exist only to be not breached.
Little lies and big divides of right and wrong genocide.
Our forefathers could not ever predict
We would be as disrespectful as this.
Ancestors bones surely roll like river
As the wicked become powerful while weak lips quiver
Fowl language and worse ethics morale and actions
Political powers that endorse for private satisfaction.
Mocking the dead what about the little kids
Who inherit the earth in the shape of it
We enjoyed youth clean air and water
And dirty it up for son and daughter.
Looking back only with limited views
Erasing the truth of ill will and abuse
A country started by taking from the natives
Blended into a melting pot of many races
Mocking the dead playing music head like fiddler
Warming the red bed of fire for Hitler
Are we so pompous we can never admit faults
Until it is too late and we too are lost?
Written 9/21/23 For Mocking The Dead Contest
Sponsor Silent One
Freezing
snow atop the majestic mountain peaks that tower above me
will soon (as springtime in Happy Valley turns into summer) be
Melting
April 12, 2020 for Let The Pens Flow - Antonym Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Jenish Somadas
Walking through life with chipped shoulders
weighing you down to the ground,
burdening the mind with stress and woe
numbing thought crippling the body,
with aching pain in soul releasing suffocation
from feeling trapped under cold ice,
buried alive with indecision.
Struggling to move forward from years of baggage,
stored in worry and doubt surrendering
to light energy flow
liberating spirit with fluid motion
envisioning solutions in the end,
catching glimpses of the sun smiling upon you
warming your frozen heart,
thawing out the sadness from your long journey home
contemplating gratitude visualizing well being,
healing sorrows melting them away.
Our annual sisters dinner at the Melting Pot. We pay to cook our own food. The shopping done by the restaurant. We climb into a huge booth, tell jokes, stories, sing funny songs about serious stuff — some sympathize, others laugh not understanding this is a true story. And we divide two bottles of wine.
the cheddar cheese
melts and devours morsels —
we pop into our mouths
Memories made, smiles exchanged. The waiter’s named David, who’s serving another David and he reminds me of a library book No, David, only I say Slow down, David. With one glass of Chateau Michelle this is a funnier joke.
sisters poke the pot —
assorted skewers hold meat
boiling in hot oil
Now I’m feeling like the holiday roast. This is one place that should only be done once a year. We talk some about kids but our families are mostly forgotten as we enjoy the adult bonding. Our sis-in-law was afraid we might add in shots. We did not but the food itself is intoxicating. After dessert we must make it to the car.
the yin and yang
white and dark chocolate
sweetens fruit and cake
12/17/2018