Best Molder Poems
Blackened Crow circle
frightened hardly
-plucking nightly
the fruits of her harvest
pitchforked hollow eyes watch
behind the disguise
of a red worn bandana
impaled
and left to molder
I measure my wealth
looking at my grains of sand
wondering if the clay
that surrounds it
will keep it together.
I measure the water
a drip, a drip...
should I drop the bucket?...
with a list that I should do?
Swiftly moving to the hands
of someone molding me
slapping, beating, caressing, shaping
all to a rhythm I can't catch
moving to drums
conscious of the sun
drying my dripped water.
My molder releases me
I prey on the mercy of the heat
will the clay be too much?
will the sand be....cooperative?
I'm, placed with others...like me?!
Hmmm...I guess I'm composed....just right...
My brickmaker lays me....
I'm ok with that.
For Timothy Lee
Darling, take me in love’s tender embrace.
Let me nestle close upon your shoulder.
Being next to you is my perfect place.
Sweetness, as our fingers now interlace
I feel your kisses grow fiercely bolder.
Darling, take me in love’s tender embrace.
My Valentine, my eyes touch your sweet face.
I submit my heart to you as holder.
Being next to you is my perfect place.
Your true love is mine by Heaven’s good grace.
Our gold love glows more as we grow older.
Darling, take me in love’s tender embrace.
You are my every day, my secure base,
And I, your soft committed beholder.
Being next to you is my perfect place.
Valentine, I cherish our loving pace.
~ My heart is your clay and you, its molder.
~ Darling, take me in love’s tender embrace.
~ Being next to you is my perfect place.
I like my weather colder;
hot weather really sucks.
All things tend to molder,
when weather is in flux.
Hot weather makes me nauseous
and I get dizzy, too.
If I don’t have AC,
I don’t know what to do.
You can always put clothes on,
when temperature drops,
but when you take them off,
there exist certain stops.
There was an ugly duckling,
Isolated herself in a stream,
Unable to show to the world,
As hidden as a treasure in the wood.
Everybody laughed at her,
Pitied, Insulted, and judged,
All she had to do was cried,
But forgave them, she really tried.
That time she made a dream,
“Someday, I will be like a queen,
To be known and be respected,
To be treated fairly and to be accepted.
Many years had passed,
That once a shy ugly duckling,
Spread her pretty wings,
Become a proud swan celebrating.
Transformed to be what she wished for,
Praised and considered youth’s molder,
A professional and a dedicated teacher,
Nothing is impossible, believe in God and say a prayer
May 2, 2023
UP TO 20 LINES' POETRY CONTEST
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Honorable Mention
Somedays I wish I didnt
Think what I think,
These patterns of thought,
Have me in the sink,
Then bring me to the top,
To put me back in my seat
Somedays I wish I didnt
Believe what I believe,
So I could,
Give into my passion to please,
Dive into my sinful desires,
and have control of my destiny
Everyday, I come to realize at night
With my eyes wide,
That my flesh I dont have to Fight,
Because Christ runs my life,
And he takes the boulders off my shoulders,
I am the gun and he is the holder,
I am the clay and he is the molder,
And his grace is sweeter every moment I grow older
There she is, rainbow hued, hazy viewed clues.
The whistle chimed waves clear her unspoken throat.
Pardon Lady's wispy tension, a molder of falling sand.
A maker of details form the reality of dreamlife.
It is not man-made, it's spirit.
From one withheld, on a roof full of heating.
It's the heart vision, it's her only heart vision,
The only seer of the whole.
The sea dragon's bucket of snails
make it through the tunnel portal,
and we all gather through.
There Lady then goes,
off to the Wizard's shell. He's cloaked in
red and white, the colors of woman and man.
They're both pleading, seething,
kneeling beside the shelled faces.
Sparks, that near cover her wreathed, flowered, dress of sea flowers.
As iridescent pyramid easter eggs rain down.
Armored in bright lace, the rhythms of twirls and braids shall
claim pertinence to the deep blue whale's song, the whale clothed
in water, salt, and Lady's most hidden dreams.
A Wizard Whale's Lady, protected with beauty.
Zero point with no ego, no confession to claim.
The breathed memory between her salty fingers
lights a candle to rebirth her soul.
Hello my little fellow,
long lost pearly weeping willow,
I've come to find my ocean.
My voice adorned with sight.
I flew to and from her, a maker of undone.
She was veiled in white memory,
a blanket of weight brushed off her.
A flaming moment floating in her watery hoping heart.
Sunk under sun drenched waters,
gazed shackles flew away.
Exceeding through three door frames,
not separate from the grey portrait of a sculpture.
Tightly knit and finely tuned,
with heavy chisels of confirmation.
I will spit if I have to, and then I will cry after.
For I will only listen to my bloody heart.
The emotions are blatant, the tuned in
question that purge's forth,
is more meaningful with an identity gone.
But we are never lost,
we are dreaming in the ocean's Wingdom,
the Angel's castle cloud held tight.
Love,
Alyssa Couture
Molder of mega minds
Tracker of tiny time
I write mountaintops
To read the bottom line
Storm catacomb castles
Swarm like Hollywood hustle
Transform fat into mighty muscle
Warm and happy
With an afternoon apple
Fruit salad ballads
Round about rapids
Cool off in a bath of acid
Knock the voices out of my head
Using a rubber mallet
into the world comes a brand new life &
regardless of whatever consequences brought it
the little one now breathes this air
the little one now feels the chill
the little one absorbs every stimulant
every single iota of experience
pours into the eyes
sucked in by the little ears
all in the attempt to understand
all in the attempt to survive this place
outside the womb.
the parent
the prime caretaker
the one seen by society to be the best of all
worlds
the one who has stood between the child &
the concrete below
the one who initially says that they will love &
care for this new being,
this is the person from whom all the bricks are
brought.
for the wall begins to be built when the molder begins to
carve this little one into what they could never be---
when the molder begins to draw perfect little parameters round
the body of the little one---
when the molder begins to abuse with doctrines
when the molder begins to instill upon the little one
a worldview that is known only to the molder &
the wall begins to be built.
the molder takes the child to its gatherings
mingling, showing off the little one,
talking of what the little one might be like when they are
older,
how the little one might very well
follow in the footsteps of the molder.
and with each brick of certainty
with each brick of dogma & willingness to submit to the world around
them
the wall towers above the height of the still staggering little one
who, while still trying to attain the art of walking, eating &
cleaning up after itelf,
now has been closed off to the rest of the world
before it even had a chance.
Smile at a scolder, pat a heart on the shoulder, another day's boulder to molder, set it to smolder, Here we are, just another day older.
I.
Not a pseudo thug turned rapper,
Or a pseudo rapper turned poet
Nor a pseudo intellectual turned advocate.
Simply a front-running, pack moving, sacrificial mind-molder:
A father with good intentions.
II.
A forgotten piece on a forgotten puzzle,
An onslaught aiming at injustice,
And yet the last of a dying breed.
Mere canvas color,
Combined to make portraits come alive.
I coalesce the abstract painted as truth.
III.
Hope’s emissions seeping through misty window panes
The calluses on homeless feet,
The brunt of Adam’s burdens, the scapegoat for millions.
I am truth evoked through judicial eyes:
“Your sentences will run concurrently!”
IV.
My plight is not one cared for.
As jaundiced as newborn eyes,
I am the renovation!
Let me molder on the surface of the Earth. Leave me on dirt with dross and peace. Let the four seasons sweep over my husk. In blood crush dust and petrified grease…. A feast for my insect and animal pals. This circle is my best and oldest friend. I was given to this promiscuous box and now— I return it back to its righteous end. So grow! — Oh, wild oaken ladle! Someday you may scoop the sludge from my deciduous knee caps. If I have to, I will change my approach to suit the drought. My sun worn bones will sprout curlycup gumweed. While the wind will carve all of the chondrocytes out. I will take pride in my rotting. Leave it for me— Leave it.
EQUINOX
Lost
in the
soft mist of
a Setember
dawn
Rain
dropped leaves
spotted gold
molder in the
dew
January 26 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Exodus 26-28
Key Verse– Exodus 26:1 Moreover thou shalt make the tabernacle with ten curtains of fine twined linen, and blue, and purple, and scarlet: with cherubims of cunning work shalt thou make them.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY TABERNACLE MAKER
Lord God, You are my tabernacle Maker---
along Your righteous measurement
Thank You for beautifying the curtain of my commitment
Beyond the tent of my accomplishment
By Your graciousness for my eternal achievement's fulfillment.
Lord God, You are my tabernacle Maker---
along Your set order
Thank You for building up my spiritual border
Beyond the sockets of my vision as human beholder
By Your help, rearing me up along Your fashioning molder.
Lord God, You are my tabernacle Maker---
along Your perfect workmanship
Thank You for blessing my sincere followership
Beyond the testimony of earnest worship
By Your pillars of truth upon Your leadership.
Lord God, You are my tabernacle Maker---
along Your reviving altar
Thank You for burning the pride of my heart at war
Beyond the ashes of my hypocrisy for worldly star
By Your lamp of holiness, drawing me to You when I’m far.
Lord God, You are my tabernacle Maker---
along Your ministering office
Thank You for binding the garments of my consecrated service
Beyond the lines of my devoted diligence as a novice
By Your compassion, bracing me upon Your standard edifice.
Lord God, You are my tabernacle Maker---
along Your tender mercy
Thank You for bestowing to me Your clemency
Beyond the chains of my confession and repentance-fervency
By Your forgiveness You grant with love’s persistency.
Lord God, You are my tabernacle Maker---
along Your secured enclosure
Thank You for breaking the rings of my worthless treasure
Beyond the vanity of my carnal leisure
By Your sanctification, cleansing me from iniquities’ pressure.
January 26, 2023
Tree befallen...
Moss crept, covered green
Bow thyself down
Onto ache of knotted knee
Ashen Oak...
Ageless elder, time's casualty
May you molder
Swift into winter's drifting sleep
Sacrificial timber...
In decay, another's sanctuary
Are thee eternal, yet alive
In a peace of nature's dream