Best Narrowly Poems
A candle burns deep, in core of every soul,
A sacred flame, an ethereal halo of intellect,
A guide heavenly, a mystique that educates,
Defying overtures of egotism and pettiness,
A beacon of wisdom beaming rays eternal
On passage to liberty that was always there
Yet, elusive to arrogance and ignorance,
Mired in obscurities and misguided fallacies.
Soul never rests, sailing vast oceans of life,
Whether upon apex or troughs of tides
Vying shores spiritual, buoying endearment,
Inviting apathy and hubris to temple of solace
Delivering words of sermon compassionate,
Teaching of awakening and enlightenment,
Liberating from beliefs narrowly defined
Toward empathy, enriching hearts, and minds,
Transcending to rebirth of happiness divine,
In harmony with salvation, an epic realization,
An epiphany heard through angelic citations
Emanating from influences beyond transitory,
Forever missives of attainment and peace,
Embracing serenity of solitude, clarity of being,
Achieving bliss of cohesion and congruity,
Set free beyond bounds of mundane, ordinary,
Attaining divinity in realm of humanity.
Flightless, the smallest such bird,
he’s hopping about madly now,
dexterous little feet grab what they can -
he lost his beak decades ago
to a merciless marauder drone –
here, some tiny, thorny little twigs,
there, a footful of leaves nearly blown by
among better leaves flown by.
The wind is relentless,
he’s never known it more violent,
but he hasn’t known it any calmer either.
It’s already blown tons of wisdom
whistling past and around him,
that airborne car nearly hit him,
the airborne fridge was even closer,
but he’s lucky to be small enough
to be narrowly missed
and able to find little crevasses
to hide in when he needs a rest.
The smallest flightless bird,
he might take involuntary flight
in the clutches of absurd winds,
but somehow he stays on the ground.
The frayed old edge of a dog-blanket
is next across his path,
blown from the prison out south,
and he’s got it ! He grabbed it !
Well done, flightless little rascal.
Everything he’s gathered
will be the scrappiest little nest
ever known to man or bird,
he’ll clumsily patch it all together
in the smallest tree
(he, of all birds, needs a small tree),
small as his greatest preconceptions,
strangely anchored by the deepest root
known to brainwashed man or tree.
The wind, so crafty, is drunk with power,
it might blow that mountain
against the side of a bigger mountain,
they’ll both be scarred
for a good few minutes at least.
But that ragged little nest will be built
and he’ll simply never leave it,
he’ll make it scrappier by the day.
19th December 2018
Mesmerized clarity
builds to crescendo
never more hollow than these
Colors the forefront
blanket expressions
narrowly missing disease
Outlying chambers
kaleidoscope distance
maneuvering playfully lost
The bearded man crumbles
along the great coast
nascency carelessly tossed
One can but ponder
diligent details
tragic circumference of light
The searing is scored
malevolent mischief
never abandoning flight
Belligerence echoes
along the dark pathway
silently centering in
The mindless enigma
deception of thunder
the meadowlark's shadows begin
3/9/19
A hummingbird hovers outside my window
Admiring itself in the reflection
I see its colors shine in the morning sun
Almost hypnotizing
Staring, I wonder if it sees me
Alone behind dusty mini-blinds
Vertical slices of faux wood
Narrowly showing the world beyond
I should smile at this “precious” scene
Spring is near in signs and actions
Yet I do not, I can not, for I despise spring
It is a symbol of life…new life
Life is the darkest thought of my mind’s shadows
What good is it, new or old or otherwise
You breathe, you wake, you want and you lose
Poetic splatters can’t mask these feelings
Pleading images claim all empty fault
As crimson blood runs the gutters
Splashing on concrete cracks twisted about my neck
Laughing from a back seat around the next corner
And still that hummingbird lingers…pointing
Tiny wings move in a rapid dance
It’s red throat casting aspersions in my direction
As I reach for my own…and it is wet, and I am crying
Cold shower today - (early afternoon)
September eighth two thousand
and nineteen more challenging than June
dog days of summer test tolerance
to feel alive and bark at the moon
hypothetically imagining myself
alone in the (suburban) wilderness
fabricating, envisioning crossing pontoon
bridge while humming nonsense tune.
Jolt to body electric induces zing
unlike missus who cannot wing
subjecting her sensitive skin
versus modest bragging
rights of this faux king
please pas din me boasting,
but perhaps explanation
I shower without hot water
linkedin to aging.
Which (no matter cumulative
chronological orbitz around sun
just a number), the fleeting
passage of years doth stun
more so forces me to assess
mein kampf, retrospective
devoid of nothing merit but pun
hushing disappointment plus
self deprivation of fun.
Alas within narrowly
circumscribed realm stale
stagnation doth prevail,
I easily overwhelm
courtesy panic attacks of this male
bred avoidance behavior
(cue Pavlov's dog) hearty and hale
trained to withdraw
from challenging tasks
markedly pronounced when fail
my middle name,
where besieged psyche doth ail.
Fatherhood, albeit necessitated taking ace
sip of courage, sometimes
adept to chase
fear of unfamiliar, though
never totally erase
sing passive behavior
I attest infrequently to face
anxiety inducing situations
poise zenned clowns
feign amazing grace
me convulsing with intimidation
agitating, flinching, recoiling...
retreating into isolated place
while profuse sweat drips
from every porous space
heart beat does madly race
despite absence of any threat
exhaustion spent without
factual, logical, rational... trace.
Time and again work fraught
self into lather for naught
recurring soap opera taught
me impossible mission
to rinse figurative suds
unlike showering/washing hair,
whereby cleansing wrought.
They stream in, seeking liberty
hoping for some sympathy
America once extended a welcome
Today the outstretched hand is seldom
Leaders neglected to check the newcomers
for police records, to view their true colors
We let in too many criminals, too much crime
with neither good reason nor rhyme
A perfect storm ensued
migrant murder and corruption
dominates the news
giving well-meaning Americans the blues
A tragedy could have been averted
had not government shirked its sworn duty
But now there are mass deportations
narrowly backed by a jilted population
NEWCASTLE UPON TYNE, ENGLAND
Half-Scot, half-English and ill at ease with the past,
Newcastle is sooty black from its coaly drama,
And the breathless town was always in a hurry to grow,
Narrowly avoiding destruction of its past or leaping over it.
Up on the plateau, industrial power-engine city:
Its earlier Norman Castle and Black Gate narrowly missed
By the frenetic hammers of eager Victorian builders.
Elegantly-proportioned Grainger Street and Central Rail Station
Pause unwillingly to admit the Scottish-style lantern-spired
Sandstone cathedral with its delicate shade of sooty industrial black.
Down at the riverside - an earlier town of shipyards and arms factories,
Quayside warehouses with watertight flood-doors,
Its precipitous narrow old port-streets carved into the gorge walls
And pierced by cold winds from the North Sea,
Is leaped over by a platoon of high-level metal bridges.
Across the Tyne, inelegant, they grab the opposite bank and bind the city to England.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
NOTE: 1 Newcastle is situated on the north ( = Scottish ) side of the River Tyne.
The town was an epicenter of the Industrial Revolution,
with coal, steel, chemical, engineering, and shipbuilding
industries, and was also a major seaport.
2 Norman Castle, Black Gate are remnants of a pre-medieval past.
3 Grainger Street, Central Rail Station are 19th century redeveloped areas.
4 Cathedral (St. Nicholas) dates from 14th century.
For awhile, I thought I had.
New love.
New dreams.
New smiles.
Letting go, the small things that hurt.
They are tiny compared to past, trashed confidence.
Never quite finding my true place in the equation.
Maybe the answer is stuck in some ugly , frothing math book, somewhere.
If so, I won't look there.
Why bother.
I am made of heart.
My only thinking muscle.
Whether beating with joy or pain,
it's beat is reliable.
Consistent.
Safe.
My only true measure of my own reality.
Even broken, it is less painful than letting it rely on misguided thoughts.
Feeling lost, while watching agendas, that seem to be the norm.
Other people's norms..........not mine.
I will never understand the meaning of "self first".
I have lived my life for others, since the day I cried at birth.
Abandoned.
My birth, an inconvenience to a womb.
My existence, to make a childless couple happy.
A friend, to soften the blows of life for the masses.
A Mother, to succeed and fail.
A lover, to give and give and give.
A spirit to fly.
A soul, to yearn.
A body to tire.
Watching simple selfishness, destroy our world.
Reaching with an open, soft hand.....just to so narrowly miss, sharing a loving
touch.
A touch, that might have saved a sightless and misunderstood, silent innocent.
We stay in the background.
We have been conditioned by our own experiences, our own shortcomings, our
passive tears.
A balance, perhaps?
To keep the equation from tipping over the universal rhythms?
I feel it.
Heavy, with doubts of belonging.
Wondering how the self absorbed agendas of the stronger minds, stay crisp.
No illusive smudges.
Never wilting.
No room for throwing the afore said agendas, into the hammock overviews, of a
rotated picture.
Find my place?
I'm probably on a list, somewhere.
We’re the electromagnetic spectrum;
Particles, waves, almost eight billion strong.
To coherent frequencies some belong,
some divided by color through prism.
Varying energies from low to high,
narrowly diffracted photons scatter.
Lacking mass, believing we don’t matter,
Invisible to the unaided eye.
Synchronized, polarized, amplified beams,
collimated waves propagating dreams,
refracted rays bend to reflected streams
We may choose to oscillate to and fro
by joining a wave in communal flow,
or as single sparks in diffusive glow
Weary, sluggish and silent with apathy and
disinterest, I sullenly reflect and
languish....
My thoughts—thick and heavy like
molasses—painfully churn and swirl in
and out of my head and spill against the
background of dead silence of my living
room....
They are in constant motion, while I sit in
the living room mute and gagged and bound
with the world-weariness of a lifetime and
stare blankly into empty space by looking
inward....
Even the furnishings around me defer to
my now sullen mood. Not saying a word
and bowing their heads, they hold their
tongues and keep their thoughts to them-
selves out of respect and deference for my
silent and solemn doldrums....
The flat-panel TV, otherwise always on
and hyper-gregarious, for once regards my
sullenness and apathy with its own....
I sit exactly thus—
alone,
but in the sympathetic company of my
furniture and belongings....
They whisper to me of a time when I was
sinful and wanton and remind me of the
need for redemption....
I remember, and take heed by repenting....
And by doing so, I have narrowly avoided
reaping and gathering the terrible,
karmic consequences
of an unspeakable harvest of sins
for myself!
LBI, Drifting Sands
Good Morning, Spring. I know you’re awake. I see your color rising with the sun.
Through the open balcony door of our third floor suite, the sea breeze coolly streams into our room as the sunlight pulls time over the warming golden bed sheets.
My love so quietly sleeps, still to hear every breath of the ocean synchronized with the rising and falling of her breast.
Narrowly framed between the doorpost and half opened drapes, the sea stretches a blue-green carpet from the sands to the edge of the Earth. Porpoises dance briefly on its surface and dive beneath its nape.
Sitting comfortably, pen in hand, my eyes capture a picture, the subject of which has been painted in the hearts of everyone finding peace on the edges of the oceans. Sea grass is bending with the breeze, pelted lightly with drifting sands.
Now, it’s time for hot coffee and warm pastry on the balcony by the sea.
Below us across the wide dunes and sun bright sands, a few scattered walkers drag their owners by their leashes near the lapping waves. The stiff wind off the early Spring waves feels chilly, even through their jackets and hats.
As Earth bows in reverence toward her perfect partner, something, someone awakens within me with the warming of the Spring sun. Like sap pumping slowly upward to engorge the budding leaves and reddening flowers of my mind and spirit. Is this dis-order: to be attuned to the rhythm and flow of Mother Earth?
In orbit: that perfect balance of attractions. An effortless flow wherein the music of influence plays in symphonic perturbations. Mother Earth sings her harmonies to Father Sun’s melodies as she twirls in the softening groove of her recorded destiny.
As a flower opens to the Sun, when Spring awakens, so do I, picking back up the verse of my souls praises of the Sun.
Good night sea. Pleasant dreams. Pull the moon’s light gently to your chin, a glowing silver blanket shimmering on your skin.
Comfort me through the night. Come to me through my open door and whisper sweet dreams in my ear. I’ll rise again like the sun to warm you and praise the gifts of your bounteous life.
~His Power Is Absolute~
(Free Verse)
Now I look back not more again
But I look forward to hear only His voice and His truth
For Jesus my Savior, He's my Lord and my King
And in Heaven and earth is power is absolute.
I will always follow Him upon,narrowly path
Of that believe me, I'm pretty sure
He inspires all my life with each dream I have
And always for me His love endure.
There's so much victory in the power of His name
Evil forces from hell tremble in fear
When they hear God's children to Him proclaim
With joy,our love to Him with praises and a prayer.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2015
April.05.2015
Authors notes:
Reference Tap in to the truth - Scripture reading:
John 3:16 FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD THAT HE GAVE HIS ONLY SON,THAT WHOEVER BELIEVES IN HIM SHALL NOT PERISH BUT HAVE ETERNAL LIFE. -JOHN 3:16
~IN GOD I TRUST!~
The Power of Love- "But faith... worketh by love." Galatians 5:6
Protected by Love- Matthew 5:44-45 and Matthew 5:38-48
Heart of joy - John 15: 1-11
Hope Lives- 1 Peter 1:3-9
Love is patient, love is kind.. 1 Corinthians 13: 4
Pain with a purpose- John 16:17-24 and Judges 13-15 and Luke 6:27-49
Cat Gate - Deuteronomy 8-10 and Mark 11:19-33
The Power to Survive - Deuteronomy 3-4, Mark 10:32-52 and 2 Corinthians 4:7-12
God is Listening- Deuteronomy 26-27 and Mark 14: 27-53 and Psalm 5
My very favorite Psalm in the Bible-Psalm 23 King James Version (KJV)
Lord's Prayer
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and ever.
Amen.
School is like a prison
Deterring thee in a sacred cage,
And unleashing with two hidden...
Pin, one before quarter after, after each mate
And then you feel so jade.
School is like a lot
Leaving six pen on your desk with sense
One turn at a spot
Sight a handling of the six pen all in mess
And then you feel so dense
Many a life in school:at point zero, you are an hero
But hope narrowly to a shallow,
And leap close to a serpent arrow,
Never be shuddered or sorrow,
Draw close to thy holy shadow.
You're a tiger in the jungle, elusive, strong and free;
I'd wondered how I'd meet you, for I live in the sea.
And though I'd dreamt that one day soon I'd be no more alone,
That it is you my heart awaits I never could have known.
I've seen the waters far and wide, the shallow and the deep,
I've swam with fishes just like me but none could my heart keep.
I've met the sharks, the dolphins too, the turtles and the rays,
I've been to every inlet, every cove and all the bays.
I've even met the gulls who soar, who freely roam the skies,
They tell me nothing's there for me amidst their woeful cries.
And so I travel aimlessly, evading many threats,
From predators and jealous kin to massive human nets.
I find myself quite lost once more, no longer in the sea,
I'm swimming now in waters fresh, I think, where could I be?
But not much time permits to pass, I must keep self aware,
I've narrowly escaped the grasp, the claws of great brown bear.
This bear it seems will not give up, he swipes and swipes again,
I tire now and lose my strength, I fear I've met my end.
Then all at once, it seems to me, the danger is no more,
I'm rescued now and safe again thanks to a mighty roar.
This roar it bellowed loud and deep, and it had kept me safe.
I wondered who could be the one who'd rescued me, a waif.
As I look up I see above two golden eyes like fire,
A steadfast creature watching me, in orange striped attire.
This beast he has the largest fangs and claws - sharp like a blade,
And yet, as I look into his eyes I just am not afraid.
A moment froze, we both are still, our spirits now connect,
His weapons borne are meant for me, for I he must protect.
The sun it sets, we've spent the eve our hearts entwined in song,
And yet we know the truth draws near, it mustn't be prolonged.
For you, my dear, you dwell on land and I swim in the sea,
And how could you or I change lives? It simply cannot be.
As I depart to swim away I feel I cannot cope,
But then a thought has dawned on me, and now I feel some hope.
For how we met was not by chance, and we are all we need,
The land it meets the sea year-round; only once was my heart freed.
An unexpected winfall did come our way,on festive season
able to spoil family and friends,which gave us much pleasure.
A freezing England was not to be had,Egypt bound for the New Year.
Arriving in Sharm New Years Eve,brand new to Egyptian culture
falling to some of the wolves that prey on the vulnerable.
Three days of hell in our first hotel,until were transfered
to what seemed paradise, the restart of our holiday.
The meeting of Kylie,an English business woman,proved our angel
bonded immediately,her third time in Egypt and put on right track.
Inseperable throughout the duration,adventurous,wide knowledged.
Although narrowly avoiding drowning,whilst snorkling ;)
Be it lazing on the beach,or quad biking in the desert
everyday be a pleasure to wake,rising sun,eclipsing the mountains.
Just a touch cold at times,my Skinbob had thermals at hand ;)
A fort night of relaxing, pleasureable heat,woke up in England, 2 feet of snow.
We have found a true friend in Kylie Harry,sheesha and sambukka`s soon. xx