Best Moving Poems
-Escape of the mountain-
Do you care about my breast?
The new curve - countryside corset
The beauty of every summer dress
Laying down, wearing out gravity
Embracing the same feeling;
Your hands indulged in
Passion and devotion
around perfumed scenery
The perfect pair
Today we will pray,
Counting every second on the clock
No longer the womanly figure before'
I will possess a new battle,
around the virtues of my palace.
Will you still be there,
when the hump and lump are gone?
Will I still be the queen of your heart?
Patiently I shall wait and see
in hopes to gain the time breast cancer stole
Leaving behind torn tissue, with a daily reminder of;
The one that got away.
WALLPAPER
---------------------
Paper Thin
Cut down to any size,
Crumble, crop me wrong
Pull the insulation from my heart.
Never will I be "A Paper Doll!"
Thank you for calling me a "Friend!"
Thank you for wasting my "time!"
Enjoy the WALLPAPER display
---------------------
Layers and layers of lifeless brick
KEEPS EVERYTHING OUT!
Emotional poster boards of doubt
Envious fiberglass green never seen
Yuletide Carols warped around my energy
Merry and full of acrylic sh!t-
Hand full of putty maintains the makeup on my face
Arts and crafts display my inner fancy grace
Heavy installed Sheetrock so easily replaced
Tough paint chips away silently through the night
Rigid boards transform into fragile crystal light
The greatest illusion blinding reality
Smooth Tiger Skin, texture of orange simple peel
Beautiful mud swirl, L'Oreal.
Gypsum soft enough you want to touch
Dark walls of a thousand words
A plasterboard of discordant grey notes
Blots and clots of ink, enslave my skin
Colorless drywall, resilient to your charms
Printed designs of cleverly decorated lipstick
Morbid shadows underneath the ceiling veil
A double coat of Pacific Waterproof Blue-
Printing bags from -- YESTERDAY!
Plastered wounds of cement dry and roughens along the edge
A human-made barrier, not even God comes in.
by;PD
I’m the one who needs to be somewhere else,
I cannot stay in one place.
The grass is green where I’ve never been
and never have shown my face.
When I look back on every track
where there’s nothing to entice
me to return to where I never yearn.
You won’t see my footsteps twice.
I’ve lived through drought and I’ve lived through flood,
I’ve been where a fire’s burnt black.
I’ve seen the curse where the locusts’ worse
and the crops are all under attack.
I’ve been laid down in a cyclone town
when winds are a howling gale.
In the shearing shed when the markets dead
and the cheques bounced over the rail.
I’ve no good terms on the squatters land
for he’s never a man to talk,
and he can’t control his angry soul
when a restless man don’t walk.
If there’s sag in my tucker bag
near a campfire I’m content.
He’ll try to rule I’m a thieving fool
so my time with him is spent.
I’m the one who needs to be somewhere else;
each camp is a rainbows end,
where the only gold that I get to hold
is to wake in the morning again
to bear my load on the distant road
for ahead lies my clarity,
that with my charms in the need for alms,
there’s a world full of charity.
I’m the one who needs to be somewhere else,
in my chase for the know not what,
where time ahead guide the fearful dead,
something that I am not.
From coast to coast my eventual ghost
will tramp o’er the trail I made,
which can’t be denied is Australia wide
when I rest where my body is laid.
"All Children Are Beautiful"
His heart of white, deep shallow wells, -yet beautiful
He smirks with a grin, an ego that won't let me in' -he's beautiful
Bastard of beauty, running ashes without a name
A face with no claim, a young man pound from shame
What is his sin, -he's beautiful!
I want to breathe from his ashes, swim through his veins
I want him to come into my light, like a good man
I sing and tell a tale, "A Bastard through the night"
His eyes I wage a thousand times, young and poor, I felt saved
Lying down in the arms of my white knight
My hair perfectly caressed, he came to my light
The furnace burned, the night was fast becoming trite
A lover, he did it well, then went back to his wife
A moment of gold, the ages live, his son is born
"He Was Beautiful!"
Another Bastard brought into this world
lesson one
i wake up alone
for the first time
the silence is deafening
i want to get up
but every fiber in me
is dead weight
i want to call my mother
and ask her how a widow
gets out of bed in the morning
but i won’t do that to her
i will figure it out
i remember how yesterday
i had to run an errand
and the cool breeze
was a reassuring sensation
against my cheek
it felt much like a caress
so i coax myself to get up
and step out onto my balcony
but my body wants nothing to do with it
and won’t move
finally somehow i am up
yearning for that morning caress
i bundle up
to face the november chill
and there it is
around the corner
a sunkiss meets me
my first of many rendezvous
see you tomorrow sweetheart
i love you
you’re beautiful
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~TODAY I LEARN TO BE A WIDOW~ 2020
Read on air by invitation ~ November 25, 2020 'LATE NIGHT WITH THE MIDNIGHT BOMBER'
AP: 2nd place 2025, 2nd place 2020, Front Page Pick 2021
Submitted on January 6, 2021 for contest BATTLE OF MOST ACCLAIMED 2020 POEMS sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON - RANKED 3RD
POTD - November 18, 2020
Posted on November 18, 2020
Blue moon rising
on a stormy night
I sit sobbing
without you
Sadness,
when we fell out of love
The point of no return,
drifting apart
You broke my heart,
my fragile heart
Now you're gone,
I'm missing you
Guess it's over
Tell me why
Whispers on the wind
Words:
disappointment
dejection
disillusioned
rejection
A true tragic tale
heartbreak
loneliness,
sad eyes
a single tear
Reflections
in the moment
precious moments
carry me away...
The scent of your soul
breath of love
shadows from the past
personal memories
After the rain
I will survive
letting go
Spring is coming soon
a new beginning
inner peace
Best Titles Contest
Sponsored by Laura Loo
(Every Line used is the original title of one of my poems)
June 11th 2017
I'm not selling a house, i'm leaving my home.
Happy times together, months spent alone.
Morning sickness, baby loss, labour and birth
Planting my seeds in good strong earth.
Mess in the kitchen, prams in the hall
Mud on the carpet, pen on the wall;
First we were two, then 3, 4 and 5
Not forgetting the pets, no longer alive.
Babies then toddlers, starting to talk,
Rolling, crawling then learning to walk.
Feeding my firstborn at 5 in the morning,
Here comes the milkfloat, a new day is dawning.
The scent of lavendar in warm summer air
Makes me think of that first one, big eyes and brown hair.
Planting some snowdrops in a place cool and shady
Done just in time for that quick second baby.
Yellow peony in May for the one that was lost
Daffodils and hyacinths for the boy who came last.
Tantrums and tears, sometimes theirs, often mine
Sleepsuits and socks on the long washing line.
Apples and raspberries, potatoes and herbs
Hunting for woodlice, new homes for worms.
Deep winter snow piling up at the door
Morning sun in the garden, it's spring once more.
So now we are going, new adventures to come
But i'm not selling a house, i'm leaving my home.
7th april 2018
Form:
Into the darkness
No fear to be found
Echoing silence
Noiseless sound
A new beginning
That feels like the end
Blown away
But there is no wind
A storm is brewing
Yet the sky is clear
Sobbing and shaking
Without shedding a tear
My soul is drowning
My eyes are dry
I cannot live
I cannot die
A shattered heart beats
The pounding I hear
Into the darkness
I will have no fear
Sitting on the cusp of dusk and evening
Placidly he ruminates where life has been
When she still believed in vibrant springs
And exulted dawning of purple mornings
Echoing exuberance of seasons’ calling
Fragile, yet colorful, as autumnal leaves
Delicate, aesthetic, as snowflakes falling--
Until she chose to surrender her dreams.
Oh! how fervently she cherished streams
Zigzagging ebulliently on their property
Digging lanes through prairies dark green,
Giggling, rushing, curving, on life-journey,
Pointing zealously, how to redirect destiny
Hosting daydreams of daffodils, milkweeds,
And tranquil bliss edifying lotus sanctuary.
Pity, neither did he feel her zestful appeal,
Nor could he allay those spaces left empty--
Between life as it is, and life that could be--
Saddled by incongruence defying harmony.
Lonesome he wailed tracing her footprints:
Cheered birds singing, doted stars twinkling,
Breathed-in her air scented with jasmines,
Buzzed in moth-passions of nocturnal winds,
Gazed deep woods where moon was rising,
And found her there, but not her meaning.
Yet, she came by, reminiscing through time,
Staying long enough, scanning the night skies--
But much as she tried, the Venus didn’t smile,
Alas! when she left, that was final goodbye.
April 28, 2021
Poem of the day on April 29, 2021
Placed 1st: This or That, Vol 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: Forlorn Hope
I’ve decided to be rid of some things:
a moth-holed sequined dress with bitter tags,
the weeping journal of ennui and pain,
the mocking trophy case of trophied dust,
proud calligraphed to-do lists left unchecked.
Let them shout accusations from the curb!
February 20, 2019
Hold on tight
A journey begins
Not in the crowded city streets
A journey of high mountains
as close to heaven
that you think you can catch the stars
Pack your backpack with sad thoughts
Upwards ... the bag is heavy
I will hold you in your hand
Stop ... take a deep breath
Your journey has begun
Proud high mountains suddenly makes the backpack a little lighter
Follow your feet forward
The air is crisp and fresh
Even if you are tired
Lower your shoulders
I'll teach you to dance on the sparkling snow
Our goal is the top
The backpack feels lighter
Do not give up - we will reach our peak
Heavy thoughts erased
Abrasions and tired feet
Satisfaction - a major force
The goal is reached ... you won
Dance in the sparkling snow ... catch your star
The backpack is empty
The whole world is at your feet
21.05.2014
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
No words can express my elation at becoming a mother
Show my tears of joy on that perfect wintery morn
Go and show my parents our tiny new born son
Snow flakes fell like confetti on the day that you were born
Haze of my brain adapting to your daily routine
Ways to make you happy was all this mother knew
Lays you in a rocking crib where you drift to sleep
Days flew by like lightning, how quickly you grew
How proud we are of the man you have become
Wow them son, go show the world you're the best
Ciao my beloved child, you're always in my thoughts
Now fully independent and you have flown the nest
Writing Prompt- Let's Write a Lento- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart
1/31/20
How many roses since have come and gone?
he thought as he sat looking at her grave.
How many futures had been staked upon
those brilliant blooms to her he often gave?
What stiff buds like hands in prayer since drawn
in oils on canvas did she seem to crave?
“White angels,” she did sing the day they wed.
Again he placed them here now she was dead,
as he'd done each year upon her birthday.
The emerald garden and granite stones
still looked untouched. The olive trees now swayed
as ever had in June. As white as bones,
statues silent, but proud as gods portrayed,
were yet his marble friends and not undone
by tears. My Angel White was she when wed,
he mused again, his feelings still unsaid.
A thousand memories like ivy spill
over the wall behind his quiet chair.
Such fervent whispers in a windless chill
go through his head of sparse and silver hair.
So many letters from an inkless quill
he wrote alone as though they'd reach her there.
A thousand roses white as angels tread
upon his dreams, keep singing in his head.
But now the car was packed, the house was sold.
Their young sons all were grown and since moved out.
He blurted forth, “My darling, now I'm old.
The boys are grown and all are strong and stout;
I know that you'll be safe within their fold.
I must move, have a life that's now about
the years that I have left. I'll always hold
those times we had as precious as though gold.”
He stood and put the chair into the car.
He cried upon the freeway for some time,
the new life in the desert still afar
from coastal past and reminiscent clime.
A new home that he'd found could be on par
with what he'd now let go. Had come the time
when he must vanquish sacred angels white.
And thus he drove into the coming night.
8/20/17
Death kissed me on the cheek
and said I could remain
I still had time to keep
but she’d be back again
For death she is a woman
A fickle fearsome foe
There amidst the shadows
Impossible to know
I said “You’re not my lover”
She sneered, “But I’m still death.
One day I’ll come to take you
when you breathe your final breath
“I am not afraid of you.
No I will not hide.
There is another life to live
on the other side.”
Life is music that drifts in open spaces
sometimes a brash crescendo
that brims with the fullness of now
when stories break from narrow, rigid scripts
stifling random routine
Life is free wheeling inventiveness
peacockish
a feathered tapestry
parading like a wedding dress down the aisle
Sometimes life is a ping pong bounce of sorrow
giant ball
that blurs the sky
that covers our eyes
a fog creeping into ruined places
Life is a tumble of forces
a counterpoint of malice and joy
that goes in an unexpected direction
like the connective chords of love
an airy drift
amplified
in the ringing rush of time
Poem composed: July 2/2022