Best Mists Poems
In the hall of clocks and mirrors,
Winds of time bring fragrant whispers,
Of midnights of magic moonlight,
And reflections of past delights!
Of golden days when lost in blooms,
And dancing joy in summer rooms!
A blur of green in woodland scene,
And the purple twilights velveteen.
Time's reversed to infinity,
As ensues with sweet memory.
And heartsongs waft, out of mauve mists,
And all life's seasons coexist!
I’m feral like a fox
misplaced in the
maroon mists
of wilderness,
only found in
woeful woodland.
My skin is blanketed
in crimson balmy
hyacinth feathers
from a
forsaken rainforest.
Misguided on
delusional paths,
where spring-tides
mirror liquified colors
of warm diamond tears
I’ve suppressed
behind ice blue sighs.
And I’ve seen
splintered petals
beneath thick-leaved
jewel orchids,
that surrendered
to greying leaves
on tainted twigs
and broken branches.
I’ve walked through
fields of thorns
where the
musky scent
of roses remained
a poison to
my aching soul.
So, why does it
feel like I’m chained
from vines of changes,
that suffocate
the sun within me,
crucifying the fragility
of premature
begonia beginnings?
Am I to follow
the darkness,
to cast away the evil,
constantly pushing me
into a cave of
cacophonous silence?
As I see beyond
the gossamer veil,
hiding sharpened talons
of treacherous eagles-
flying amongst
vicious vampires;
emerald foes
masked as friends,
feeding my conscience
with cruel concoctions,
oblivious to the truth,
that I am a bark believer
of marigold miracles.
So let the
steel black breeze
and the
faceless ghosts
of fleeting time,
witness how I
rise against
wicked wolves
lurking behind
stars within
a chiffon laced
canopy of nightfalls.
For, I am more
than the empty labels
you’ve placed,
like the shame,
I’ve buried beneath
lyrical lies drizzling
from vanilla skies.
In Whispering Mists, Dying Gods There Grieve
Within Shadows casting forth in blackened glow,
secret havens hide in heaps of aged dust,
there beastly beasts born and wickedly grow
far beneath a granite hardened evil crust.
Within corridors in ancient temples Time waits
for the golden winds of Loves renewed trust
sealed up fast and tight, their heavy gates,
holding back those deaths found to be unjust.
In whispering mists, dying Gods there grieve
there time now sadly wasted and ill spent
sifting Love's gems through golden sieves,
they see far too late, what human Life truly meant.
What of legendary Gods, did such beings ever exist
oft descending to earth to wreck havoc there
or in Hades pits cast all, their divine powers did resist,
the glories of faithful worship they deemed fair.
Within Shadows casting forth in blackened glow,
secret havens hide in heaps of aged dust,
there beastly beasts born and wickedly grow
far beneath a granite hardened evil crust.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-08-2018
Rhyme, ( Of Dead Gods, Evil beasts And Man's Folly)
Note:
Dawn flings a face
All darkness flees;
Birth of new day
~~~~~~~~~
That Old Man once thought:
"Poetry is not viable..."
Who can eat poems
~~~~~~~~~
In our twilight years
Even time is suspended;
Marionettes know best
~~~~~~~~~
Love is a good excuse
When things go right;
Consider the alternatives
~~~~~~~~~
In my house
I live life brief;
Time excavates my soul
~~~~~~~~~
Haiku soapbox styles
Words in brief grief;
Soon I run away
~~~~~~~~~
Words do not tell
Of many things;
Forbidden and forgotten
~~~~~~~~
My darling calls
My name out loud;
Dreamtime outbursts
~~~~~~~~~
Horrifying nightmare
I struggle with despair;
Awake to gratitude
~~~~~~~~~
Lines loiter here
Linger with motives;
Pregnant envoi
~~~~~~~~~
Senryu sensations
Not much to say;
Pickle me fancy love
~~~~~~~~~
Words line up
Extravagantly economic;
Profit and loss
~~~~~~~~~
Now at last
Someone mimics a monkey;
Is it strange then
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
10 November 2014
Singapore
Sisters of nature, gathered hand an hand,
Finger tip to finger tip, as the goblets
Are filled high, and thus passed
Amongst one another.
Nymphs of the evergreen wild, celebrating
The springs rebirth, listen to the drumming beat,
Of seasonal change, it plays in perfect harmony,
With the earth's eternal motion.
Graceful steps of eloquence, lightly placed
To the rhythmic under tones, a seductive
Enchanted spell, weaved with gestures
Exotic mischief, by promises unspoken
Implied meaning.
Teasing virgins of sacred beauty's
Renowned, unveiling each temptation
Hidden desire, yet it is nay unconquerable.
For these maiden's are the gypsies of
The mists, the untouchable, protected
By the Gods themselves.
Muses for inspiration, delicate spirits
Of pure joy, never knowing the heart
Aches of the mortal soul, regrets shadow
Lies beyond their realm, of this dance.
Forbidden fruits of a lustful harvest,
These the loveliest of pleasures maidens,
In a Grecian garden.
On the white topped peaks of the Gods,
A blessings bouquet is lain to feast, in
Honor such a magnificent vision to behold.
From above the deities toss golden bands,
To adorn these ladies wrists, and ankles,
A fitting tributes treasure to bestow, for
Such grace and elegance.
Hear the rustling winds blowing,
The echoing voices chanting,
Than feel do you not the silences
Stillness.
They've gone again, into the thinness,
Of air from which they came, these ancient
Spiritual phantoms of the past.
Until the seasons call unto them once more,
Come it is time to dance, gypsies of the mists.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Like steam arising from a pot
and floating by this grassy field,
the morning mist concealed the plot.
I could not find the thing I sought
because with mist it was concealed,
like steam arising from a pot.
I tried to find, but I could not;
my sightless eyes by fog were sealed.
The morning mist concealed the plot.
Encircling seas of white I fought,
as drops within the air congealed,
like steam arising from a pot.
Then, as I stood there, lost in thought
away from there the sunlight peeled
the morning mist that concealed the plot;
And through the veil the thing I sought
a moment showed, and then resealed
like steam arising from a pot;
the morning mist concealed the plot.
{Written June twentieth.}
I gaze at pregnant clouds outside my window
Overcast to match my inner darkness
Wind howls through trees like sadness through my soul
Melancholy mists cloak me in their soft caress.
Raindrops like chandelier prisms
Illusive rainbows reflect off crystal panes
Lazy daydreams of drifting recollections
Water color tapestries of tie dyed stains.
What went before cannot be changed
Dust motes dancing on stagnant air
Aspiration surrendered to forgotten needs
A past littered with dreams stripped bare.
Amidst the mists and coldest frosts,
With naked wrists and darkest souls,
She slams her fists against the bars,
And still she screams she sees the ghosts.
Through summer days and autumn nights,
Through season’s end and blinded sights,
They keep her down and clip her wings,
To mute the lovely song she sings.
In troubled times for modest lives,
To see the truth beyond the lies,
As time goes by and death comes 'round,
Her body’s cast upon the ground.
Through hearts of ice and hands of stone,
The devil’s wife’s possessed the throne.
But even though pain’s at it’s most,
She’ll still admit she’s seen the ghosts.
Another day
For self-discovery;
Song bird sings
~~~~~~~~~
Explore the best
In sacred sights;
Mundane world speaks
~~~~~~~~~
One by one
People breeze by;
Silence speaks loud
~~~~~~~~~
Dry goods vendor
Expounds good quality;
I pick my choice
~~~~~~~~~
Lovely damsel strides
Simple harmonic motion;
Some call this sexy
~~~~~~~~~
By this street corner
Busy feet intersect;
Each pounding away
~~~~~~~~~
Newspaper headlines
Ebola and tragedy;
World now waits to see
~~~~~~~~~
Newspaper commentary
That and this and that;
Expert opinion matters
~~~~~~~~~
Morning surprise
Overnight rain hydrates;
Walkways refurbished
~~~~~~~~~
Basketball court
Foreign talents showcase;
Let me show you how
~~~~~~~~~
Morning kung-fu antics
Dance of dazzle here;
Chinese dialect scrambles
~~~~~~~~~
Mainstream conversations
Stocks market permutations;
Sanguine reality chokes
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
09 November 2014
Singapore
Gray clouds gathering, distant eyes shrouded;
inner vellum lids cannot disguise
the fugitive from love you are.
Your cherished, throbbing body near,
Far, far away your misplaced mind;
Hesitant words reach out to you,
entangling in a torturous maze
where two hearts stumble in the mists.
August 20, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
'an empty verse'
and empty hands
~understand~
The glass in hand
can drown out ten-
thousand and ten;
Hearts,
~an emptiness~
looking for
?
a
f
l
o
w
e
r
$ . . . . . .
(Oh, Holy Nights)
on bend-ed knee
enlightened to see,
Ten Drops from the glass
could drown myself, asking for a drink
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I ponder the greatness of love
and then I let it go
Hands,
under the Masters hand
* * *Romans 16:11***
* * *
A parade o'er
ParodieS
" ' Aneath' "
" 'The Table' "
The cold blue waves move gently with the surf
The azure ocean is deep like the soul
The wind murmurs above the ocean
Whistling in gaps of granite rocks it causes commotion
Further north green sea waves
Are in insipid correlation with expressive blue
Of a nearby glacier
But here water is warmer
Like the heart of the Earth
As sunset slowly turns sky
From blue to gold and violet
The clipper ship sails forward with the wind
The beacon shines like the second moon
Guiding the vessels around sharp rocks
Jutting out to sea
Under the water coral reef dazzles with beauty
The mist of stars
Suddenly surrounds the ship
The mist is full of color and light
Like crystals in kaleidoscope to the eye they are delight
The mist is magic
Writing the very laws of abstract
As deep as the soul
It makes the ship fly
As ship sails through the clouds
The phoenix appears on a left of the bow
The dragon on the right
Both guide the vessel on its flight
'an empty verse'
and empty hands
~understand~
The glass in hand
can drown out ten-
thousand and ten;
Hearts,
~an emptiness~
looking for
?
a
f
l
o
w
e
r
$ . . . . . .
(Oh, Holy Nights)
on bend-ed knee
enlightened to see,
Ten Drops from the glass
could drown myself, asking for a drink
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I ponder the greatness of love
and then I let it go
Hands,
under the Masters hand
* * *Romans 16:11***
* * *
A parade o'er
ParodieS
" ' Aneath' "
" 'The Table' "
Author Note: I hope in time, people understand their short comings and how one person is not less thana human, a Christan or a writer than. Gifts are gifts. it takes time~ Fortunately, my archives are widely spread and (oh how, I said pratically the same thing as Maryln Monroe) and someone " a friend" told me that. Friend or Foe? The answer is Foe. No Weapon Formed against Me Shall Prosper" I have always had a God! My writing has been protected by the federal copyright office by a phone call 16 years ago. Some have respect, others buy it. Nothing more. ? : :) :] :^ } A Joke out of this Jay Leno? Miss Cindy cayton "Just Me"
The Lady knew he lurked but felt no harm or fear
from the knight who watched her from the wood.
His only thought was of the lovely Lady Guinevere,
bethrothed to Arthur, so he knew where he stood.
Young Lancelot, feigning interest, ignored her glance.
Insolent, she though him to be, as arrogant as an ass!
Til the day she caught his eye, hoping for just a chance
for a truce to be called, so their enmity would pass.
A meeting in the mists of Avalon, Lancelot and Guinevere
spoke of new beginnings and when their passion blazed,
love found its true course, from which neither would veer.
A vow was made that no white flag was ever to be raised.
Sweet mists of morning, and rose red mystery,
So much color all around, nothing is left to see,
Orangey mists of twilight, a tangerine surprise,
I can't see pearl stars, for beauty's in my eyes.
Golden mists of afternoon, hazy clouds in grass,
Pretty as a silken flower, though it will not last!
Deep purple midnight mists, so airy and dreamy,
Wafting in my gardens, in the moonlight creamy.