Best Mystery Poems


Premium Member Past-Life Nightmare

A child of four suffers recurring dreams,
disturbing parents and siblings with screams.
When she awoke, always sore in one knee;
next to a birthmark, it throbbed painfully.

Night after night she feared going to bed.
What caused these nightmares that raged in her head?
Even when grown, the torment persisted,
so a therapist’s aid she enlisted.

“Hypnosis,” said he, “might offer some clues.
Why not try it?  You’ve just bad dreams to lose.”
Once under, he guided her to a room --
here people’s lifetimes in books were entombed.

“Find one that is yours,” her counselor said.
Quickly she did, but before it was read,
she felt an ache, saw just a faint title.
The words, she thought, said “Alister Bridle.”

The hypnotic trance now suddenly broke;  
puzzling questions “Mr. Bridle” evoked.
For many years she thought that was her name;
perhaps a past life had been filled with pain.

Who was this man?  She simply had to know!
Seasons passed, summer suns made way for snow.
In Florida now, 1998,
she thought all the nightmares she had escaped.

But strange dreams always catch us by surprise --
when the lights grow dim, our minds fantasize.
Cloaked in velvet, she left her parents’ farm,
stealing away on a late autumn morn’.

To meet her love, she climbed on the carriage,
knowing her folks would forbid their marriage.
Warm-hued leaves carpeted the hillside road,
and her pulse beat fast; she’d soon join her beau.

She thought only of him; joy cast its smile,
but that’s when he called, “Alice, the bridle!”
The leather band broke and wrapped ‘round her knee.
To the ground she was pulled; her horse ran free.

She met death, but past-life dreams recycle,
and she’d never been “Alister Bridle.”

Premium Member In Strangler's Wood - Tanka Version

At a dead man’s throat

lies the rain drenched woolen scarf

that stifled his screams.

Cold Winds howl through decayed trees -

witnesses in the shadows.

Premium Member Pandora's Kiss

"Pandora's Pearls"

Crystal tears drown under the best velvet distinctive feel
A Ghostly feel that leads into a clear diamond road
I found myself seduced down an Ancient Silk Caravan path, 
There she hid behind the golden stones she built around her heart.
She was a white gem against the deepest night
She spoke Latin words upon this dreamy sky
Her eyes were deep and the size of my mother’s midnight pearls
I fell into the stare of her bedroom eyes
Wishing to taste the sweetness of her coconut milk fragrance. 
She lowers the cloak to reveal the beauty in her black pearly eyes
Raven hair under her soft sensual disguise
Her lips redder than the violet rays of the sunset

She buried her beauty, and then exposed what’s under the cloak
Soon, her body turned into rot and bones
Her fingers pointed towards another path,
A rugged road of stones and pearls
I took a blade and press it against my skin, 
Concealing my life shut, after she revealed all my forbidden sins
Her lip, her eyes, her pearly grin, my last vision as my blood drew thin
A sweet kiss of death, falling into the eyes of Pandora’s Spell

by;PD


Premium Member Feline Alert

*The feline Texan way*

A clean coat of paint - on my nails
Red shade of lips - on my smile
Solid oak charms - on my wrist
Country music - around my core
Flattering eyes - a rustic shell.
Join me in a "Country Girls Tale"

~~

Every day I draw near the morning dawn, 
Abide by the landscape towards the new Texas sun
A track of yellow roses and cactus galore
I brand my name everywhere I travel
Allowing you near the bounds of my Wild West soul
I maintain it above the snake level everywhere I roll

Got my head up like a cowgirl, 
Men around my black leather chaps
I tilt my bull hide hat leaving behind a sweet Texas Trail
 
Driving down a midnight Texan storm
It takes more than raindrops to knock me from my-  “2-Steppin’ world.”
A windy ride, bruises under the hide taking it in like- “A Real Cowgirl!”
I got a tight hold on my saddle, holding on to a brighter morrow

Enjoying the voices and the sound
Tex-Mex lingo, round and round
Ropers and Wranglers are how I dress
I'm all covered, except for the top of my chest.

Living’ it up^, down here in the south.
Erin’ the lungs, shooting up the sport
Long necks’ and kissing under a rodeo’ moon. 
Honky-Tonk, tattooing the mockingbird.

Down here:
You will see me sitting on the Country ground,
Peacefully staring into the optics of the "Alamo Stars."
Falling with the art found in the flag I hold.
I am The Wild! 
I am The West!
“— A little dotty, but civilized!” 

Enjoying the morning breeze,
Where the dew sits on the tip of Mother Nature’s tongue.
There and only there you will find me,
Under the brightest Texas Star

Premium Member Critics

Critics

Wrote a poem in the sand,
Wonder how it fares if left alone,
Will it bear on its own merits
Or juxtapose by meddling hands,
Meantime, sun-dries it again,
Wind shifts it broad and thin,
Indelible puddles left by rain,
Sand critters pop out and in,
A boy and his ball rolls along,
With a long sigh, looks on down,
Builds a sandcastle then leaves,
Ebbtide gone, flood tide flows cleanly,
I returned, stood and discern,
Comme ci, comme ca, c'est la vie.

14th line English translated from French, "Like this, like that, that is life."

05/09/2019
*POTD*
~~Team PoetrySoup
*6th Place*
old poems, FREE VERSE (003)
~~Poet Destroyer A
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Old Man

Old man


he lived over there
in a house of dreams
		                               alone

	every day
	he fetched his mail


I woke 
	             when he died


Now I stare at the window
	                                       where a little boy


		            watches me fetch my mail

alone


Premium Member Beautiful Mysteries

Divinity lives beyond description
Alone, a weary heart cries from its pain
Desire eager for its conscription
Might truth and love turn this way again?

Sweet mysteries, this life, in dreams of thee
Yield fantasy's passion I dare to share
Walk from this muse, I pray to live in me
Conceding this, my love, unto your care

On lifeless shadows, cast your glowing light
Bring a blessed presence to this peace I seek
Rest too this solemn shade, this endless night
With angelic verse, but you could only speak

For seeking dreams to dream from up above
I cast my will and fate to seek your love

Premium Member The Ballad of Poet Destroyer

"The Ballad of The Poet Destroyer"

Destroyer, and creator of words
Flying high on the wings of a bird
Drowning every inch, by foes and friends
Where has she gone?

When push came to shove, 
She continued standing tall after every fall
Falling fearlessly like the falling star tapping the lips
Topaz, a star in the eyes of envy the enemy
A dreamlike, miracle mirage, fresh like mints
No reason in remembering yesterday's sad song
Slightly she moves in with the new barren breeze,
A maze in disguise, no way out
A feeling so good, you hate
The naming of names, that won't escape you 
Your eyes of lust, imitate PD's sweetest touch, 
Destruction, with pleasure
A new day, killed by the morning after pill
Everyone gone, shadows remain
Where, has she gone? 

A feeling so good, you hate
Your unmatched precision wobbles your stability
She'll give you a taste of rays, despite your low self-esteem 
Happiness turns to sadness, making every jaw drop
Where has she gone?

She's not the painting of Mona Lisa, 
However, it does not stop you from spending your cash-
-To see a picture painted with a frown,
Look what you've done!

Never to return, what was, what is!
You say you love her, then you run
A dry barrel, an empty gun, 
Never will the enemy be number one, 
Nothing but a shadow, a rug for PD,
Like a dream, her imagery is haunting
Love her or leave her, her pen name remains
Poet O' Poet where are you?

An advocate of smiles, enjoy her copy-paste kiss
Trace her silhouette found in the midnight mist
Blindfolded, indulge by the wind
Breaking, the Texas Hold EM' Hand
Her freedom, her land
Gone insane, she laughs, 
Untouched she remains, she lives
Inside of me

By; PD

A Bad Day At the Eye Doctor's- a True Story

"It was 6 or 7 years ago
Or so I'd like to think
I traveled to my eye doctor..
(I should'a seen a "shrink"!!)

My dad and I we awaited
In a filled up waiting room
Patients all a'seat
Magazines all askew
There wasn't much to say there
There wasn't much to do...

Slowly I did notice
Some odd glances made at me...
Some hand-covered conversations...
Some smirks I seemed to see

It made me feel self-conscious
They seemed fixed looking at me in my seat
When slowly I did realize...
That they were staring at my feet...

I looked down, and to my horror
And much to my surprise...
A sight I could not fathom...
I could not believe my eyes!!!

For one foot was well fitted
with tennis sneaker white...
The other a black dress shoe
It was a startling sight!!!

Now I found how hard it was
to hide one's mismatched feet
I wished to God to run out
And escape onto the street

I was red with great embarrassment
and shocked how stupid I could be!
Had I been that darn sleepy?
Or could I just not see?

Then it slowly dawned on me,
Well, darn it, here I sit....
Proves I need an eye-doctor...
and I don't give a sh__......."
© Tom Bell  Create an image from this poem.

The Ghost of My Lonely

Abandoned in the fifties after the war
A freight elevator stuck between floors
Obsolete machinery, splintered old chairs
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere

Dead air presses down, stifling and thick
Something still dwells behind one of those bricks
Curled up in a ball, it waits for me there
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere

A musty gray vapor that whispers my name
It seeps through the wall and creeps to my brain
It sighs and it groans as my soul is laid bare
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere

It mumbles and moans and drones of ancient tombs
Of claustrophobic closets and dim, hollow rooms
I cry out for help, echoes answer my prayer
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere

The ghost of my lonely, my lost and alone
My hopeless and helpless, my can't go back home
It's looking at me now with a dull, vacant stare
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere

Obsidian

An almost stillness came about
as she strode into my door,
like breath itself refused to move,
fearful of touching her mysterious beauty

But her obsidian eyes betrayed her. 

Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
she looked at me, 
and I knew…

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Molten lava spilled forth from her mouth, melting our clocks—
eighteen hundred nightmares compressed in two hours.
Long hand moving forward, as the short hand moved backward
How can memories persist in such an acrid life?

She spoke of a beast in the guise of a man,
 one who ravaged innocence with the flick of a click
A coward that collected milk teeth for hardened bones
of other horny beasts with no spine

That throaty tenderness when she spoke 
sprinkled crystal seeds of frustration in me
She says he loathed him, denied she loved him
but her obsidian eyes betrayed her

There she was, a bud he plucked from the nuns’ garden
He grafted then he pruned her, 
spreading her pollen, wafting her scent
yet folding her petals to himself

Caterpillars feeding upon her leaves,
she lets them devour her,
yet once they are wrapped in their cocoons to sleep,
she stabs them with her thorns.

Tears then slid down from her midnight lace eyes
and it was all I could do to catch them
She said she was weary of curtailing butterflies,
of tearing their wings before they can even fly

I had to ask, how many… how many winged gems?
She lifted her sleeves, and showed me her scars
One ugly mark for each innocent child plunged deep,
my heart getting slashed at least three hundred a beat.



-----------------------------------------------------------------------------


A certain stillness came about
as I strode into her door,
like fear itself refused to move,
letting breath touch her mysterious beauty for the last time....

Her obsidian eyes had betrayed her. 

Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
I looked at the knife beside her.

Maroon-mapped sheets, a stunted womb.
 
Strains of Bon Iver’s “Flume”
flit past the sighing air like a butterfly,
and I knew…









08112014

Premium Member This Thing Called Love - POTD - With Winged Warrior

POTD 19 September 2017

Apprehensively I tramp with my lamp - through a path shrouded in gloom
Silvery shafts of light entwine and fight through foliage as they creep
Gnarled branches twist as I resist their sinister outstretched grabbing reach
With a hushed bated breath I move in stealth - to allow the restless spirits sleep

I have heard and have feared the ancient Mystical stories that are told
Of a fabled cave of age where these immortal spirits abide
A sacred and elated reverie this questing soul with them seeks
To allow ‘The Oracles’ now - to show where my elusive love hides

I have heard it expressed in a blessed rapturous appellation
This glowing love from above that eludes this restless yearning child
A bliss infused kiss that Celestial Beings have been heard to applaud
A connection of perfection that would make Heaven look down and smile

In my quest to find the nest of undying unconditional love
I search alone to find my throne in the mighty caverns of the sphere
May the spirits guide until I find my bride in barren breaths of cold
And now I see in this mystic cavity an apparition does appear

In a gentle voice I do rejoice and hold captive in their chambers
My son are you the one seeking lasting love in our golden grotto
I say yes and will you bless my jaded journey thus far I have made
We’re beings of infinity descending divinity as above so below

I fall to my knees as they say with ease - Feel the vibes of the stone
Before you embark look within your heart - Love explodes there and beyond
I shed a tear with a cavernous cheer and find where I have failed
My soul anew now I'm due for my love to be Spiritually spawned

Acknowledgement from Maria (Down Under) -

To my very dear friend and Poet Extraordinaire`-The illustrious (((Winged Warrior)), for producing this collaboration together with me. It is no surprise at the effortless speed of this production - virtually overnight (because of the time difference), and then another night with the sprucing up. It was good fun and we must do it again WW. 

POTD 19 September 2017
 
Music by Yakuro – ‘Through The Galaxy’ - Published on Mar 22, 2016

Copyright – Maria Williams and Winged Warrior – September 2017

Premium Member My Secret Soul

A meek Monet, a gentle Van Gogh
I may seem too nice and mild, though
The moon knows my true name

In lust I ascend to claim my prey
Goblins to gobble, dragons to slay
New blood to tempt my game

I brand the highest spruce with my mark
I am as white as the night is dark
Silent, floating prowl

As encroaching dawn takes starlight's place
Revealed beneath my human face
Soul of snowy owl.

1/8/19

Premium Member Beautiful Mystery

Beautiful Mystery (English Sonnet)

I heard the roaring from amongst the trees
as sheeted water tumbled from up high
a place where nature lay in blissful peace
exhaling fragrant breaths that gratify
a soul that yearns for stimulative balm.
I looked in silence, daring not to move
at risk of losing empyreal calm.
Who could such wonder dare to disapprove!
Engrossed in rapture I became aware
of a nymph’s presence, by her dulcet voice.
She sang of freedom and of love to share,
but being human I had not a choice
to come into the open and declare
my heartfelt feelings to a maid so fair!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -				
A Beautiful Mystery Contest
Hosted by John Hamilton
Chosen p.o.t.d. 27 Sept 2018
© 25th September 2018

Premium Member Loveliness On a Hill

I must have encountered her on a hill,
Where scatterings of ferns deepened
Through insolent winds that shivered
While watching her carry a basket of daisies…
She is Loveliness, forlorn in a drowsy pathway,
More forlorn than languid endings
Or all that death can ever reach.

By trying to alienate myself from this image
A weariness brushed on a Dresden face so pale
That the luster in her eyes became stardust ,
While I designed a  self-tumbling act as a ploy
To gaze at her closer , oh one divine mystery.

Just there, etches of beauty flatter her hair,
Like a dream capricious as twilight leaving
And in her almond eyes, the moon-flakes glimmer
How by chance, this silhouette found me breathless,
That I did gravitate  through her bloom, weakening--
She, an air between death and forever… Loveliness on a hill.





'2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 5'  Contest for Mark Toney
Re-submitted 12/18/2018

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