Best Musing Poems
I sit alone as evening claims the day,
with common crow my only confidant.
I watch the sun sink slowly in the bay
while musing life and love so nonchalant.
As night descends upon my humble soul,
my furtive feelings ponder kinship lost.
I’m missing precious love that makes me whole;
my dearest darling gone at such a cost.
And woe I say, why did she go away,
and leave my heavy heart in agony;
behind, my shallow spirit here to stay;
she cast our love away so damnably.
Alas, I rue thee, my ascetic life,
and long to lance my heart with wretched knife.
January 17, 2018
Poem of the Day - January 18, 2018
Hearts of gold don't break, they melt.
Daniel Turner
checked for originality at plagiarism.org
She said, if I correctly recall,
That, for her, a sustaining love is an
Absolute prerequisite for what
Would be a total commitment of the
Coupling bodies...and all that
Constitutes the essential parts of the
Eternal Soul;
And I not so assuredly competent
In this - the practice of such a higher
Art!
Adding, some little time later, that
Being so chained, in what she described
As an unfortunate consequence of a
Most regrettable thrall,
To a domineering Harlequin who,
When mindlessly exercising the upper
Whip hand, had neither modest restraint
Or any amount of unimpassioned
Self-control,
Was, in fact, just a flagrant excuse
For a base lust;
Of course this was not to be confused
With the laudable and gallant actions
Conceived within the inner workings
Of a steadfast and more openly honest
Heart.
And was I convinced that I was indeed
Sincere in all my avowed pledges?
And did I truly understand that all her
Troubled life she had tirelessly
Searched for one such as I purported
To, somehow, seemingly be?
How I instantly can bring to mind
Those obscure and doubting mutterings...
Still carrying upon an ill wind I
Should not wonder;
I think of them like the songs of the
Naiads: what woefully remaining
Sounding endlessly above the glassy
Tinkling of a mystical lakeside's
Stiffened and shuffling Sedges;
You a modern-day Danae, infant Perseus
Clutched to your swollen breast, your
Little box, in all its abject
Loneliness, now set adrift upon some
Desolate and open sea.
What turned out, in the end, to be a
Pointless charade. Perhaps; but that
Which, despite shortening periods, whilst
Enduring felt almost timeless.
Then of course this shared guilt...
That will, shamefully I fear,
Forever bind us.
taciturn springs rising
from within the quarry
of deep earth's wisdom
urging lyrical waters to transpose
while held like singing seas of living reveries
of history and infinity
misting to meld with rainfall dreams
Falling like ancient messages
into the orchard of molecular landscapes
drawn to penetrate its legacy
embedded in the rockeries and rills
blanketing the groves of dirt and ferns
teeming in the arcadian oasis
feeding feast or famine
flourishing the solicitude of springtime
in spider spun dreams
of longings in ancient oaks
merging with the ebb of shedding sycamores
in salted seas teeming and exalting
the rhetoric of existence
in musing opaque vapors
mingling into pervasive clouds
bleeding life
cached in the creche
of pastoral beginnings
of everlasting eddies
watering the garden of dreams
April 22, 2020
Rewritten: October 3, 2020
Your Best Free Verse 2020
Sponsored by John Hamilton
How lovely to spend time
On a hillock overlooking the bay!
The ruddy sun just warms enough,
So I’ll enjoy my perfect day.
The sea is not perfectly calm.
Waves roll towards the beach,
What are they whispering to the sand?
What thoughts I wish I could reach?
There on the other side of the lake shore,
I spy a fascinating pristine vale
White beeches cover most of the land,
Except for a cottage that stands in the dale.
It is the place I want to go
So I take a leisurely walk
Ignoring the restless harbour bars
Avoiding friends who would want to talk.
The air is fresh in the awesome vale,
I watch a hawk attack a sparrow,
But my mind is on the cottage,
As I wend my way though it is narrow.
She must have sensed I was so near,
As she comes out and there we kiss.
I hear the dulcet sounds of mellow tunes
Euphoria reaches its peak, my mind in a mist.
Inside the cottage lavender perfumed,
She brings me the delicacy of an ambrosial repast.
Satiated we rest on a soft sofa
My dearest love reaches its peak at last.
I get lost in a dream of my choosing,
A zest fairy tale or reality;
Drawing my heart strings with abstract musing,
Idyllic poetic shared fantasy.
Natural colorants of black silk night,
Glorious effulgent wide azure sky,
Spilled crimson horizon morning sunlight,
white jasmine laden boughs whither so high.
Purple heather on the verge of blue creek.
Rich autumn rainbow play sips its nectar.
A gray wolf bearing its long fangs grows meek,
Flying sapphire dragon, king's gold scepter.
A palette of colour fluidity
Through unwontedly buoyant poetry.
1/11/2020
A Reliquary Musing
A child’s doll melded into a stone in a former Nazi Death Camp
as its chilling image haunts the collective mind of those who live
in the so-called civilized world of today and who profess a hollow
concern for a child who’s long dead and who’s been completely
forgotten to the rest of the modern world.
A sad image like this one should haunt the very soul of mankind that
oft professes a political correctness as it sweeps such unpleasant images
under a bone-ridden rug that reflects a sad happenstance and mutters only
a sigh at the horrific nature of such a truly evil occurrence.
And, only Almighty God knows this sad truth.
And, now you do too.
Amen.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
June 14, 2022 (Narrative)
Inside Out
Does enclosing a part of the outside
To make a dwelling
Really create an inside
Sitting in my house
I look out and realize
The house is part of and sitting outside
And, so am I
Inside out
Engineer the heart
The estate of my pity
Pupil of sorrow
She is sitting idle, pondering about life,
thinking the aim is not just to survive.
Trying hard to follow the theory,
'live every moment and don't worry.'
She thought doing this would be very easy,
thus judged those who were not exemplary.
But realized, like money, success doesn't grow on trees.
Have to look for new paths, opportunities to seize.
She perceived, have to work hard day and night,
bleed from her palms until she gets that thing right.
Comprehended, everyday getting up is a fight,
but watching the sunrise is also a delight.
She now understood, life treats all equally,
some have guts to accept, others beg and plead.
Now it's up to her who she wants to be,
a brave soldier or a cry baby.
Learnt, life's utterly brutal, doesn't even have a sequel.
It means there was never scope for suspense,
have a happy ending or terrible one with many amends.
Breath softly...as the hush falls
Listen from left to right
armed with discernment
Become as one from front to back
Free your loving and your heart
to rest in the midst of the present.
Pray that the sun and moon ascends
and descends each day with gratitude
and reverence...for we own no second of time
Each inhale and exhale is a gift...never forget
~
Learn to dance in the shoes of another,
sing from your soul without beats or lyrics;
let the words flow like flutes and bells
that trembles the leaves
Befriend the presence of the soul
for sight is distorted by the eyes alone
Become foolishly in love,
without rules or expectations.
Shout it into the wind,
then give it voice within a poem
Empty yourself inside until
there's nothings left
but the sweet of silence
and the presence of God
Forbidden love, deadly finales, Cupid’s tragic legacy
An altering agonizing fate, a lover's tale the soul it'll violate
Romeo n Juliet had pure love, pure ecstasy
Forbidden love, deadly finales, Cupid’s tragic legacy
Samson’s lust, Delilah’s betrayal bribed from jealousy
Secrets unfurled delayed, poison secures not heaven’s gate
Forbidden love, deadly finales, Cupid’s tragic legacy
An altering agonizing fate, a lover's tale, the soul it'll violate
Musing Lately
Let’s just say
with my husband now having heart troubles and my
being old (& bedridden while waiting for my new prosthetic-leg) makes for on-going thinking, remembering, observing, reflecting, tentatively concluding, believing
how the ineffable ultimately rules…and one’s
language (for all its commanding need to be used with a true Love ) finds w
o
r
d
s
to be less than their expressive task f
a
i
l
(despite even some i
divine inspiration)
n
g
to cast some light brighter
than the humble votive’s flame flickering in the heart —
Or more than the one tear — felt but unseen' — in the corner of the eye, bringing along its cathartic story …ready to fall down over the cheek…
Or to realize (especially after 40 years togerther) that devotion lives well beyond a 3-word statement in heights carried there by a tried, spiritual touching of our auras in the room: lives aligned for better or worse in the profound music that our closeness creates. The poems are born in being or feeling before the written.
(c) sally young eslinger 7/13/24**
In my youth, i was a devotee of James Joyce and Samuel Beckett. (Beckett even sent me a hand-written letter in response to one i sent him.). I pretty much memorized “Waiting for Godot.” Joyce and Beckett both saw words dissolving — into the ineffable. Some powerful poems lead us there, but that there, I’ve found is in the unspeakable.
Wise people know that they know nothing.
Erudite people doubt that they know many things.
Ignorant people are certain that they know everything.
Now,
The first category of people refuses to rule, and
The second is reluctant to do so,
It remains to the third category to govern the world,
Therefore
Do not wonder, my friend, why humanity in such a mess
We find!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
24 June 2021
* I would like to thank all my fellow poets for their support all these years and also would like to share the honors of POTD with them. Likewise, I thank PoetrySoup for providing this beautiful forum where aspiring poets are given the opportunity to test their poetic wings. God bless all of you.
lonely my steps take me to the sea
with her echoing verge
and I linger there pondering my existence_
the sun rests on a whispering wave
pure gold and motionless and tranquil
she hangs there reluctant it seems
among streaks of mauve, gold and clouds
she seems to float on a rolling sea
oh, what a beautiful eventide_
I muse my soul- my journey thus far
as the dimming orb sinks into the azure blue
silently gone, gone, gone, gone_
'till I am wrapped in hushed evening shadows
__________________________
April 13, 2020
Poetry/Free Verse/Musing My Soul by The Sea
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1243-578-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Slipping Soul Sunsets Into The Sea
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke
First Place