Best Mysterious Poems
Written: December 16, 2023
_____________________________________
I sneak glance at veiled blue.
as swank stars start to shine,
Sleeping, I sensed your love.
as warmth weaves through the heart,
Feeling the night above
I sneak glance at veiled blue.
through days that caught the moon,
with the whim that soon grasps
those who were backing me,
lasting the same long clasp
I sneak glance at veiled blue.
then climb the heights of sky.
zest the bright stars that shine.
Through the twilight impulse.
glimpse that my soul is thine.
I sneak glance at veiled blue.
Oh, divine timeless throne.
Your love has embraced us.
through my path shone a blaze.
freed and borne with life fuss.
- - The way we were
in poetic form, underlined and understood,
unlaced and then,
exposed –
Like chapters taken from the vertebral column
reality now realizes the connection
I am curious
how the glossary of you can still remain:
untouched,
unexplained
. . The illustration being plain . .
Who knows
your definition
when,
Incomprehensible is the selection
_______
Pull me in
again,
to the way we were
The electricity between you and me,
is Magnetic
an uncontrollable sensation,
Quite Mysterious
________
You wonder:
While I am bare and unaware
Will tracing space, aligning lace back in its place,
. . the vocabulary of me . .
Somehow
bind,
your section
to mine
To the way we were,
in poetic form
Together - -
We are underlined and understood,
unlaced and
exposed –
Reality now realizes the connection
_________________
~ Just a little scribble ~
A true story, based on family oral tradition
from the oldest part of the city of Bern,
capitol of Switzerland, where my mother was
born and raised, in the Nydegghoff)
He lighted the candle with a quivering hand,
his overcoat seeming to weigh down the old man.
He paused in the aisle to genuflect,
and wondered if God knew his heart was a wreck.
He found a pew and got to his knees,
hands clasped together, he sent out his pleas.
He is old and he's tired, now he's alone,
his wife died last Spring, now his house wasn't home.
They'd been blessed with one son, he'd died in the war,
and now there was nothing for him to live for.
He prayed until his knee pain was great,
then sat back in the pew and tried not to shake.
The cathedral was beautiful; he loved the stained glass,
but, oh, they brought memories of Sundays past.
How could he make it through Christmas alone
in a house that was empty, no longer a home?
The kitchen was silent and cold as a tomb,
but her scent lingered on in their modest bedroom.
He said one last prayer, then rose to his feet,
genuflecting again, he went out on the street.
He walked home near blindly, not even aware
of the snow that was landing on his shoulders and hair.
He was cold inside, his heart like a stone,
and he felt completely and utterly alone.
He turned down his street, saw his porch light's glow,
and only then realized it had started to snow.
He opened his gate, thought of making some soup,
but froze in his tracks at the sight on the stoop.
On his porch sat a basket, the old wicker kind,
he thought for a moment, he was losing his mind.
Inside the basket that sat on his mat,
were three tiny kittens and one momma cat.
What a pitiful sight, so cold and so thin,
he scooped up the basket and hurried them in.
He found some canned tuna and warmed up some milk,
gently petting the babies, whose fur was like silk.
He never discovered who left those cats there,
but, as his love grew, he no longer cared.
His wife had loved cats and this comforted him,
as they slept on his head, or tucked under his chin.
The kittens grew quickly, as they're wont to do,
amused by their antics, his love grew and grew.
There was laughter and joy 'til the end of his days,
for God works, as you know, in mysterious ways.
A double sonnet in which the great detective and his faithful sidekick, Dr. Watson, alternately deduce the cause of Sherlock’s latest malady…
Part the first
Sherlock could not deduce his source of pain
at first. “Try as I might, I cannot find
the cause – is it contusion, or a sprain?
Perchance a mere psychosis of the mind?
“Yet by deduction, I’ve ruled out the plague,
consumption, smallpox, cholera, and mumps.
My symptoms, although serious, are vague –
this lack of answers has me in the dumps!
“Where’s Watson? He would have a quick prognosis –
I’ve never seen him err in all our years”.
Then! Churn of stomach yields its diagnosis
just as his friend, the good doctor, appears:
“What seems to be the problem, troubled one?”
“It’s alimentary, my dear Watson!”
Part the second
But from the learnéd doctor’s point of view,
there yet were tests and readings still to take.
He’d learnt the ill effects of poor review
and on his friend would not make that mistake.
“Stick out your tongue! Now, turn your head and cough!
Say ‘ah’. Hold this thermometer in place,
and while you’re at it, take your trousers off -
we’d better check your prostate, just in case!"
But Sherlock dashes to the water closet
in dire urgency and grave chagrin
to make a loud and liquidy deposit.
“It’s diarrhea!” Doc yells with a grin.
“How did you know?”, shouts Holmes. “How in tarnation?”
“Why, Holmes, mere process of elimination!”
written 17 Jan 2020
dawn meeting of minds
sharing facts in orange mist
espionage days
for the good of all
like roses in the green hall
make the hours brighter
joy and liberty
underneath the singing birds
misty dreams of morn
Echoes can hide in places far and wide:
in valleys, wells, near walls, in empty rooms;
in hills and canyons and in ancient tombs.
In Chichen Itza, Mexico, there stands
a Mayan pyramid, now known and named
'New Wonder of the World'. One mystery:
this temple, built for snake god, Kukulkan-
their eminent and feathered deity,
echoes a sound, much like a chirping bird-
a bird that represents the Mayan soul;
their spirits spoke in echoes, they believed.
The visitors can stand at bottom, clap
their hands and hear the echo of a chirp.
Sound waves create distorted callings of
their native Quetzal bird as claps reflect
upon the lengthy set of stairs above.
No puzzle that this spirit chirping from
the Pyramid of Kukulkan would speak
in echo-voice of their most sacred bird.
Unknown if Mayans engineered this feat-
Unknown if spirits of their bird speak out-
Unknown if this is nature's sound-wave play.
In Chichen Itza, Mexico is found-
a Mayan pyramid, enigma-bound.
December 11, 2015
~3rd Place~
Contest: Urban Legend
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 04/30/2017
~3rd Place~
Contest: Screwed VII
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
Judged: 03/21/2016
~Honorable Mention~
Contest: A Tomb of Ancient Bloom
Sponsor: Justin Bordner
Judged: 03/13/2016
Written in Blank Verse - Iambic Pentameter
10 syllables, 5 feet per line.
Licia, A Mysterious Mind
A mysterious mind
You often do find
Is cluttered with all kinds of clowns
In your ear they speak
Quite often with cheek
And tell of your ups and your downs
Driving you mad
By being so bad
But without them, where would you be?
Those voices you hear
Are your friends my dear
Though controlling them can be deadly
Wishing to tell
How they give you hell
The run around with their demands
Every now and then
They rule your pen
Just to prove you obey their commands
It isn’t as though
They say hello
They just barge in, take over the roost
Where they get their prose
Only heaven knows
But the soup gets its comedic boost
Bawdy they be
Extremely naughty
Yet they have the knack with the crowd
With their crazy antics
Mind bending tricks
The reader’s soon laughing out loud
So please let them stay
Don’t chase them away
For the loss will not only be yours
Live and let live
So sister forgive
Those voices that this world adores
My priceless jewel, within the face of Heaven,
That precious light that shines within Loves' rippled Soul.
My beloved, lead me to the throne of Love divine.
Hearts meld together, one heart In blessed peace,
Brown eyes In their sublimity drown within mine.
One heart, one Soul In dreams perfection,
Loves' emotions dwell In Soul divine,
Above, the rainbow of the heart awakes.
To an Angel who pens with a quill golden,
Awakening treasure bounties hidden In deep sands.
To hear the seagull cry out In dreams' pearl drop.
To hear the lonely call of a wolf, under a cold moon howling,
Where stars forever glitter silver In dews dance, fingers of light
Under the feast of each silver face, beauty beams.
Always we are awaiting that special someones return.
A collaboration by Liam Mc'daid and Michael Clarke.
Hurriedly, silently, in purposeful fluid movements
and long, determined strides, he dashed among
the thickets, bending and darting amidst the vines
searching for a perfect little place to stay and hide.
Stealthily and noiselessly he slithered underneath
lush, leafy overhangs shielding him from the sun -
keen, cautious, like a crouching, hungry predator
anxious not to draw unwanted attention to himself.
The birds on treetops hushed their singing in haste
as the woods turned suddenly still - frozen in place,
shocked, stunned and unprepared to bear witness
to the mysterious man’s strange, diabolical scheme.
He threw a quick look to his left and another to the right
then jerked, turning his head around to make doubly sure
that no human soul finds him in this quiet, secluded place
about to carry out his dark, sinister and unplanned crime.
Taking a deep, measured breath and now totally reassured
of being truly alone, away from prying eyes to a gory crime,
in his madness he violently yanked down his old Levi jeans,
squatted to the ground, grimacing, and…ahh, sweet release!
My muse is veiled by clouds of mystery
She steals my thoughts and dreams both night and day
Allured yet vexed with curiosity
Frustrated by the wicked game she plays
My words are music, she begins to dance
With coyness, wiggles out of inquiries
Seducing me to take another chance
To once again explore her boundaries
But she has shown the beauty of her heart
And I have felt the pureness of her words
So heavenly, just like an angel's harp
I'll solve the mystery surrounding her
I think of all the wonders I've been shown
Such beauty lends itself to none I've known
an original poem by Daniel Turner
dark universe
mysterious muse
what lies beyond your edge?
Get in touch with your zen poetry contest
sponsored by Richard Lamoureux
21st October 2019
I accidentally stepped into the women's restroom
Turned around to quickly leave
Noticed there was no one there
Then turned back around for a manly peak
What the ladies do in here
Has always been a mystery
So I lurked about and scouted out
To let all the other men know what I've seen
First thing right off the bat I noticed
What appeared to be a sofa against the wall
Thinking it a pretty fancy toilet
Not to be hidden in a stall
As curiosity was killing this cat
I went over to lift the lid
The guys will never believe this
A couch is really what it is
No wonder the women take so long
When they say they'll be right back
They all head together to the restroom
To take themselves a little nap
Then over on the counter
I see bottle after bottle after bottle of perfume
I know that girls like to smell nice
But you have to wonder exactly how good
Just then I decided to crawl under the counter
A little more in depth into the mystery
That's when I heard the voices
Coming down the hallway at me
I can't tell you how many hours
I was stuck in that bathroom stall
But I can tell you it felt like forever
As the women jabbered and talked...
...and this being a holiday weekend
They shut the lights and locked the door
Which I guess is okay since I needed a break
And no one's here to hear me on the couch as I snore
A cartridge filled with a horde of shackled emotions, am I,
Trifle feelings loiter within me, until she elicits them out,
Wizened by time, she knows that otherwise I might turn mordacious...
God guides my pen and has assigned her my way,
~ She is the vociferous voice of my heart ~
She knows my malleable moods and masterfully makes magic
By weaving whispers into wistful words,
~ She is the byzantine boon of my being ~
With cogent candor she cajoles me to compose poesy,
She and I share a companionable camaraderie...
In the mystical moondust of Maker's majestic mercy,
I acquiesce to her ingenious genius,
~ She is an efficacious eclectic enigma ~
For sometimes, she plays truant tricks,
Her surreptitious evanescence is a conspicuous conspiracy,
Abandoned, I have to await her august appearance...
The soft stardust of her sartorial splendor,
Renders me a mere puppet of her puissant prowess,
~ She is a phenomenal Phoenix ~
For she encourages me to endeavor towards excellence,
Her alacrity aggrandizes my acumen,
Having faith in her fortuitous favour, I flourish...
~ She is my God-given "gift of grace" ~
Her multifarious munificence is a monumental mystery,
She has transformed me from a fruitless flibbertigibbet
To a fulfilled female fount with her unfailing finesse...
~ She is my mysterious, magnanimous Muse ~
Feeling forever grateful to God for her grandiloquence.
5th January 2023
Mysterious Breezes and Winds
Consider the breezes and how they blow
Organdy curtains across a lover’s bed;
The brush of air conditioning on a working head;
A chiffon dress fluttering with the breeze of ballroom dancers,
The whispering kind keeping insects afloat.
And blowing pages of a book one by one.
A wind rattling windows
Before a cool summer rain.
What is the soft breeze that pleases you?
Breezes of the sea on a bather’s nap.
The wave and rhythm in summer trees.
Consider wind and breezes where they go.
~Mysterious Witchy Woman~
I reach to grab the clouds
casting my spells of seduction
see like me they were
never meant to be held,
but only for a short time
Im like a damp mist that kisses
the ground
How I love the mystery my
life holds
Not looking like what
you were taught
My curves were made for
your hands to caress
my lips were meant to meet
your warm lips
My looks and body more like
seductress, then a witch
I do have a black pointed hat
and a broom on which I ride
So high above through the
misty midnight heavens
You might see my silhouette
against the bright orange moon
Halloween is my favorite
time of year
And the only time I can be me
When I enter your dreams....
casting my spells
enchanting you in your sleep
knowing we will have
such sexy fun
come morning like the
damp mist
I'll be gone leaving
you craving next
Halloween and this mysterious
witchy woman