Best Nudged Poems
Sunlight rains upon my face
Cascading memories cloaked in mystery
Kissing my eyelids
Ancient teardrops glide down my cheeks
Warmth illuminating my hungry soul
A sense of calm
A pulsating ellipse emerges before me
I dive into the magenta abyss
Releasing my wounded heart from its cage
Fear resides
Primal vibrations guide me
Becoming one with galaxies and starlight
My limbs relax
I flow ~ I undulate
I swim in the warmth of the universe
Time and space have become me and I them
Perched on a massive salt-stained boulder
Gazing towards the briny distance
Shades of White
A passionate brushstroke across the horizon
Sky and sea in a lover’s embrace
Caw .... caw ..... caw....
I feel you beckon me
Swallowing the sweet pit of truth
Nudged by a warm gust
I look down seeing the bundle
cradled in my arms
Your endless gaze speaks lifetimes of wisdom
Birth, struggle, bliss, challenge, and death
I watch you intently readying yourself
to pounce upon your unsuspecting prey
Riding this timeline of life
Together as one
Tick tock
Forward backward
Inward to the beating center of creation
Young one I see your sage reflection
In my gilded hand mirror
Me here and you there
Your smiling eyes
Tearing at my core
Come float with me
In sheer turquoise splendor
Adorned with seaweed crowns and abalone jewels
Rays of light penetrate the watery depths
Colonies of majestic stingrays hover nearby
Welcoming us to join their scared dance forevermore
The blackberry's love for the garden rose
Brought down the gardener's wrath.
The blackberry sensed the danger
As he wended the garden path.
" A love so true as mine", he sighed,
"Must dare to brave the hoe.
Just a few more feet to reach her,
My true love she must know."
He crept along so quietly,
Sometimes quite out of sight
Until he nudged his darling's feet.
Did he dare to trust the light?
He heard the gardener's heavy boot
And hid in craven shame.
He knew he'd soon be weeded out,
A seedling with no name.
"Have I no worth since I don't rate
Some Latin nomenclature?
Without a well known parentage
Am I a freak of nature?
His darling's line was long and pure,
No skeletons in her past.
He had to make his feelings known.
Those boots were treading fast.
Gently then he wrapped his vine
Around his loved one's spine.
In great amazement he opined,
"Her thorns are sharp as mine".
The sweet rose felt his tender touch
And realized his fear
And wondered at his bravery
In coming to her here.
She heard the swishing of the hoe,
She heard those nearing feet.
Quietly letting down her leaves
In a manner so discreet
She covered her wild lover.
The gardener unaware,
Stopped but to view her beauty.
He saw naught hiding there.
She whispered, "You are safe now".
The blackberry's heart was light,
Thankful that his dear sweet rose
Had not exposed his plight.
"A rose is still a rose." she said,
"By any other name
And in our distant ancestry,
We share some of the same".
"I'd rather know your wild love,
Than a love that's dull and tame,"
Cuddling close, returned his kiss
Without a bit of shame.
Next season there were seedlings
Of a very different kind.
The gardener delighted, cried
"A horticultural find."
The moral of this story?
Things aren't always what they seem.
The love you look down on today,
Could be tomorrow's dream.
Humanity
The pagan pilgrimage, sun-worshippers frequently make
Latter-day phenomenon, take off on a Bronze Age break
Constellations change position, solstices realign
Tropic of Capricorn peaks, Cancer starts its slow decline
Astrologers reassure us, the end is not bespoke
Astronomers can’t sleep, has a supernova awoke?
Healthy cells deconstruct inexorably from their core
Runaway chain reactions, laying waste forever more
Be that as it must, cosmic cataclysms generate thrust
Comets are slightly nudged, on a collision course with us?
Ancients believed them omens, wraiths of impending slaughter
Those billion ton tailed curveballs, catalysed Earth with water
Modern man searches for answers, drowning in misnomers
Melding PhD honours, with chatbot E-diplomas
Teleporting entangled particles, throws back a hack
Time travelling marvel, rewinds the real Bronze Age back?
Absurdness seems lame, yet concomitantly germane
Hawking conserved energy, by merely using his brain
Newton had a bachelors, kept him celibate stable
He’d balls of steel for sure, alas no bearings on that cradle?
Information cannot be destroyed, only zeitgeists can
Synthesised is truth, in the malleable hands of man
Life’s more delicate, gravitas hidden behind a smile
Like tales that flightless birds, buried heads in denial
Ostriches evolved kick-ass legs, and win the biped race
They dig shallow pits in sand, not complex black holes in space
One squawked this revelation before zooming off to die:
“Humankind’s the sole species, with good reason to ask why”?
I, to the pasture's green could run,
and fly a kite beside the sun,
but choose, I do, to linger still,
among the dirt, what is my frill?
Low, be it may, to sink my feet,
into the slimy, pungent peat,
but with my grandad by my side,
would daily stroll along the tide.
To rescue guls stuck in the mud,
or gather sticks for firewood.
As luck would have it on one day,
the tides did change and under clay,
a viking boat from days gone by,
with shields of pine and rivots ply.
Unmasked itself from muddy deep,
a secret for ourselves to keep.
Each day, we returned, with a spade,
with picnic full of marmalade,
and feasted there beside the boat,
in our wool hat and winter coat.
Charmed not only by history,
but by such untold mystery.
Then on one fateful dreaded night,
the waves were high, the wind a fright,
storms blasted down upon the shore,
Until the longboat was no more.
My granddad early on that day,
forgot to mention or to say,
he felt unwell, or rather ill,
but trudgeoned on, a soldier still.
But in the haste of wind and gale,
I didn't realise he was pale.
By the morning when I awoke,
to no smell of cigarette smoke.
I went downstairs and saw the fridge,
his oatmeal there, still on the ridge.
Maybe a lie in, thought my head,
I ran upstairs to grandad's bed.
There asleep, I thought at a glance,
I nudged him, but he kept his stance.
He was gone, how? I hugged him tight,
and ran for the river at twilight.
So here I am beside the tide,
Waiting for the mud to reside.
But if it does, what shall I do?
For treasure is nought, without you.
Shadows touch, casting a slight glimpse of doubt
some say tears holding pain will bring despair
and fear held within, a heart is without
I say, simple joy is the way you care
Comfort will stay, hope is everlasting
there is peace in love, when moments are true
found only in the tenderness you bring
even when darkness wants to control you
Some like to say that trials break down the weak,
leaving them so helplessly unaware
makes one stronger, words from the heart I speak
humble in spirit, we have all been there
Shadows will follow, depth will hold on tight
calm remains, when love is a gentle light
------
~ Peace is found only in the Light ~
Author’s Note- Even though writing a Sonnet isn’t something my muse is familiar with. (It was nudged to create one) I am delighted this has happened.
Contn'd from Pg 1
So she called out to the stranger and asked for a ride
Snow had fallen heavily and already piled three feet high
When she climbed into the four-wheel truck never giving it another thought
Before he headed down the highway, he went into a crowded bar
Intuition nudged her, ‘get out now, turn back!’ But pride urged her, 'stay'
He returned with a brown bag; appearing harmless as he turned to her
‘Say, you’re trembling!’ He said and flashed a breathless smile
‘Here, have a slug, of this, it’ll warm you up, pretty girl!’
Hesitation loomed for a minute then she accepted the bag from his hand
Young Rachel, was now treading a path beyond thin, cracking ice
As tears stung her beautiful eyes, she'd never had a drink this strong
How her vacant tummy rebelled against the searing burn
Nausea arose from deep within, and she began to have regrets
Registering strong protest, her regurgitation would later accuse her killer
Her faith was sealed as there were no open doors left for escape
And before she realized he had made a reckless wide left turn
Down the snow covered dirt path through tall pines and fir
No longer were there sightings of sparsely lit farm houses
Interspersed along the desolate, picturesque landscape
The four-wheeler tackled with ease, snow drifts of fresh fallen snow
Where the following spring young Rachel's body would be discovered
That night Rachel laid buried under a few feet of snow
She was at rest now to awaken to eternity in sunny fields
Beautiful as daisies growing in heaven, carefree and endlessly in bloom!
~*~
For: Rachel..R.I.P.
Nineteen nosey newts nudged nasty nautical nannies
Eighteen eager ermines excitedly edged everyone’s ego
Seventeen sacred slugs sat sideways searching seagulls
Sixteen slippery snails slid southwards sipping sangria
Fifteen flowery foxes fell forward fondling fuchsias
Fourteen frantic fleas froze fighting frightening fanatics
Twelve twiddling tigers told thirteen tasteless tales
Eleven elderly elephants embellished eighteen ebony earrings
Ten terrified tardy ticks tricked two thirsty Turkish tramps
Nine naughty nasal know-it-alls knew nothing nearing knowledge
Eight elastic earthworms echoed eighty edgy Egyptians
Seven solemn snakes slithered slowly sensing sunshine
Six sassy silk-moths sceptically squished spinach selfishly
Five funny fatties feared following fancy French fashion
Four fantastic faithful Finnish flies faked famous farcical facelifts
Three tenacious terriers thrilled twelve tipsy throbbing thespians
Two tireless Tanzanian tapirs tittle tattled tirelessly throughout Tuesday
One obedient oily octopus offered obnoxious orangutans oranges outrageously
Gust of playful wind
nudged me with flurry of leaves.
Childhood memories
recollected in my mind
leaving me in state of bliss.
Date: 11/11/2017
wri
ting is
knitting
your life
thro ugh
a nee dle
and if
you sew
emotion
secret
you’ll
get
nu
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a
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e
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s
y
Writing is knitting through the needle if you sew emotion, secret, you'll get nudged a weensy
Upon a rock, beside a cleft,
Sat a seagull white
A fledgling son sat to his left
His daughter to his right
He told them of the deep blue sea
And of the ships so grand
He taught them legends many
Tales of jewels beneath the sand
And then he nudged them forward
To stretch their wings and fly
Both children felt the oceans pull
And each thought they would try
The son was rather timid as he
gazed upon the bay
His daughter gave her bravest "Cah!!!"
And swiftly flew away
The seagull watched his daughter
And then looked at his son
"Now will you try my son?" He asked
"You've seen the way it's done!"
The son stepped forth his bright orange
Feet, one step, two steps, now three
He spread his wings and suddenly
Was flying bold and free
The older father seagull,
Watched, emotion in his eyes
"Fly farther now my children
The bluest, fairest skies...
And reach the pinnacles of heights
Than myself, and ever I
Could wish for you..,Sweet skies of blue"
And then whispered
"Good-bye."
Faithful companion, Caradog, without necessity
Habitat fed his needs, our bond rapidly developed
Fierce competent hunter amazingly adopted me
Heritage unable to continue, thylacine near relic
Decision to keep him secret was tumult traumatic
Exploited Tiger captured disallowed me to have it
Slender sniff nuzzled friend was a multitude more
Central to my craft's formation, carved wood replica
Tangible muse renews value in sculpting his form
Task of inspiration shed sparks of reaching fire
From my lantern lit table, I intently watched him rise
Stilt like legs stretched, striped yellow rump lifted
Nudged me with gentle nose, wild must be a guise!
Trusting eyes knew domesticity, my heart pilfered
So we walked, accepted man beside marsupial beast
Sharp snout pointed urgently when he detected a meal
Several rats equalled daily quota, Caradog's appease
Showed me hidden nooks, I couldn't figure the appeal
Of providing his secrets, perhaps to dispel theories
Population still existed, a duty he felt was obligatory
Already running in my long local veins, knowledge
Caradog was the final egsample, the last battler
Of a fine Australian species, sadly now abolished
Persistent development trampling their chattels
Option to turn him in to rangers, on my doorstep
Final thylacine female despondent and beyond it
Zoo tourist captivity would instill Caradog torture
Days spent free, ferocious mate bore my fondness
( Last live Thylacine held in Tasmania, 1933 )
* Convincing Thylosene on poems below this,
the prequel to this story
9th August 2020
Apprehension a nasty culprit
Putters outside my window, that mud pit
Pulls, tugs, draws inward
Rushing towards scarred vineyard
Emotions fresh, newly healed over
Hoping to not once again spillover
Every time my being is hit
Nudged to stir emotions by some half-wit
Somehow, they stick in the knife and turn
Impale the tender taciturn
Opening the door to boiling emotions
Notions leave, fill me with Holy Spirit's devotions
For the past five months I’ve been trying to cope,
To deal with the loss of joy, of hope.
Now everything seems so dull and so fake,
And looking at you just makes my heart ache.
I’ve lost my best friend, the one I loved,
First nudged away, now pushed, now shoved.
I shared all my secrets, I bore my heart,
And now they’re what you used to tear us apart.
You were my queen, I gave you the crown.
My love burned too hot and burned us both down.
Now look where we are, worlds apart,
Forced away by a broken heart.
I tried my best to keep us together,
But now that we part, I’m more broken than ever.
I wish you well in all that may come,
And yet, for trusting you, I feel so dumb.
I sat all alone in darkness as if tethered to this chair.
Light enough to see shadows. My fear was hard to bear.
They were trying to be daunting, their haunting profound
as they kept taunting me. Their faint whispers the only sound.
I begged them for silence, the specters without faces.
Constantly circling, creatures who wore black carapaces.
They frigidly nudged me, chilling the marrow in my bones.
Never before had I been more frightened than I was here alone.
In the hush of darkness, I trembled trying to speak.
A tear has escaped my lashes and rested upon my cheek.
Thoughts from my past were regrets my mind tried to chase,
searching for the wounded part of me my heart wanted to embrace.
I broke the silence of the night and set myself free
by rippling like a wave that found its way across the sea.
I chased the beastly shadows, trying to feast upon my soul
and illuminated the night when I found the courage to take control.
Motor is nudged to life in an arcing motion, arm pulling
cord. Vein-furrowed hands grasp the fishing pole,
slinging bait and tackle beneath one arm. Another
arcing motion, arm casting pole. Bobber spins
a helicopter course through sun-nipped air.
Loons call a soulful greeting, the moans of centuries'
separated lovers in mourning. Time trickles through
the notes of their songs. Meanwhile, bass glide
with their loud-mouthed sass,
perch and blue gills play tag. A lone
blue heron bills the murky depths for lunch.
Man baits his hook, readjusts his hat. Eyes squint
into the dark undertones of the pond. He casts
his pole, a fermata in the song of the loons. When this man
was a boy, he drove the spires of the Rocky Mountains,
frequented the five-and-dime, nuzzled
a nightly routine next to his wife, who mothered six children, raised
in a house far away from any pond. They bustled themselves
along through school as well as any fish pouncing on
supper-flies, dabbing napkins to the corners
of their mouths. This fisherman sliced their steak, knotted their ties,
held their hands crossing the street
until they were old enough to
mail college resumes,
pay for first dates.
Five years,
fifteen years,
thirty-two years and here is Granddad,
with his child's toddler learning to walk in the bowed
belly of his fishing boat. They stumble,
clanging clumsy feet on the metal, frightening
the fish away. The old man bends low,
a note in the song of the loons.
He places the toddler on two feet, guides her hesitant steps,
each pendulum swing carrying them a moment
further toward separation. In twelve years, the grown child
bends low, a note in the song of the loons, to kiss her
grandfather's forehead, as he casts off on his helicopter
course of afterlife.