Best Orb Poems
Baxter was born in a meadow
under a rotting plank
with hundreds of brothers and sisters
in a home both darkly and dank.
His momma was a June Bug
and he was a June Bug too,
schooled in all the sorts of things
that June Bugs love to do.
He grew up fast, it was time to fly
and leave his happy home,
his momma went to the book case
and pulled out a well worn tome.
She read from a chapter called "Hazards"
to each of her children dear,
“Stay clear of birds when you’re flying
or you won't last out the year."
"And one more thing that you should know,
and this you must absorb,
beware of the light in the evening sky
that's called the purple orb."
So he left his home behind him,
went flying all around,
he saw some birds in the tree tops
and headed right for the ground.
After landing in the tall grass
he met a stink bug named Dwight
who told him wonderful stories
of an light so purple and bright.
"Forget now what your mother said,
I'm here to set you straight,
the orb is just a doorway,
you know, it's like a gate."
"When you enter into its brightness
you're magically swept away
to a lovely world of happiness
where forever you can stay."
So Baxter started searching,
he looked both high and low
and if he found the purple orb
straight to it he would go.
But the light was very clever,
it kept its secret well,
but Baxter kept on looking
as if he was under a spell.
Finally on an August eve
just as darkness was appearing
he spotted a distant purple glow
across a meadow's clearing.
"It must be the orb,” he said to himself,
so he flew with all his might
across the meadow with all due speed
toward that beautiful purple light.
Soon he hovered before it
and bathed in its eerie glow,
what wonders lay in store for him
his mind could scarcely know.
Gathering up his courage
into the purple light he sped,
crackle and zap was all he heard
as he fell to the ground near dead.
He lay in a growing pile
of other bugs who'd seen
a purple orb up in the sky,
but it wasn't what it seemed.
So if you meet a stink bug
who goes by the name is Dwight
don't believe the tales he tells
of a beautiful purple light.
Remember what Baxter's momma said,
"and this you must absorb,
beware of the light in the evening sky
that's called the purple orb."
Luna's specter glows
Gazing at her reflection
In the black night sea
Inspired by Raul's "Reflections" contest
The late morning light glazes the lake,
pierces, with stems and stalks of lily and reed.
Shadows freeze like lashes upon the limpid surface
of still water fracturing the sky-blue to black.
Iris of earthen orb, brush back the unruly screen of vision,
rub the cinders from night's lingering trace,
awake from the mire of silted dream.
Let the wind, your laggard lover,
rise a frolicking and remove each lash
with the gentle touch of fingertip.
sun’s lucent red orb
creamy brume embellishes
beams shimmer in sea
mysterious orb
of blazing silvery beams
long may you dazzle
moon shines in day dreams
orb of night torches stargaze
muse beneath heaven
Written By: Laura Loo
Date Written: April 20, 2016
Orb weavers begin with a single thread,
And then spins an orb of silk so fine.
A wondrous intricate design is weaved,
Resembling wheels with spokes throughout.
A spider's prey in sticky threads,
Twisting and turning to free itself.
To no avail, it's stuck within.
An exquisite web not only for food,
Effective at catching dewdrops too.
Strung like beads on bejeweled silken threads,
Glistening like diamonds, reflecting its light.
I'm a girlie girl you see,
Detesting all crawly things.
But one cannot, should not pass by
These amazing dew drop weaves.
An inspiration for a jewelry maker,
Wouldn't you agree?
Observe, if you would,
These orb weavers' creations
Tucked away in your garden
Or perhaps in your shed.
An orb of velvet bleeds across the skies
Nearer she flares to warm my night's caress;
Bestowing tints of her rare paradise
When moon of heaven gushes to fluoresce!
Supermoon Eclipse Contest: Eve Roper
10/4/2015
*Image of Santa Clause, Charlie Calvin by Giphy.
The Glass Orb
In an e'er thus oft agitated contorted crystalline world,
Unconsciously being tinseled by the energies that transpire,
Flurries of fakery enshroud the encircled glassful menagerie.
Indifferent minions from habit, obey the traumatic turbulence,
Revolving in every-which-way of an inescapable no bars prism.
Liquefied mirage a wintry desert of horned camels and pine dates.
Nevertheless, calming ceremoniously exhibits, abruptly emerge.
Ambiguity surrenders gracefully, necessitating the delusion,
There exists a well-treasured keepsake immortalized in a globe.
Adoringly exposed glittering peepers to overindulge in disbelief,
As a seasonal passage liberates a once boxed stored wonderment.
2019 November 25
*1st Place*
A Brian Strand 4 to 14 line
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 August 08
*1st Place*
Stuck in a Christmas Globe
~~Bobby May: Judged 2019 December 12
orb of ghostly light
enchanting and entrancing
always out of reach
The dark of the night sky: clear, unlimited space
Lights and a bright white moon, of clouds no trace
The mood suddenly changes, the lights are faded
The vault of heaven is raided, the azure invaded
Realization in a flash, the barren moon stands abashed
Now fainthearted, lily-livered, her quiet joy is crashed
Hide not your face behind clouds the color of yellow dirt
I know your phases, feel your moods, I know you`re hurt
Battered, barren, lonely, evanescent orb of night
From your cursed dance peace you`ll never find
But I`ll be your fire eater, one who devours the sun
Artemis, Luna, Diana, your true name knows none
My gift on treasured shoulders lay
Touch him, roll him, kiss his breast
But know, you're not his first
I too came to love this bit of shell
This tiny structure, set upon my pink cushions, soft as day
Together, we lay in watery depths, hidden within translucent light
At first, its birth unwanted
I tried to shed this growing thing
In time, I came to know this silent child, held fast within me
He grew in circlets, brightness in its unseeing eyes
I shielded him from the outside world
This thing, my own, my special orb
Then one day a metal bite
Fingers entered and felt my child
A rip, a tear and then I lost
My orphaned one, bound on knotted string
His future lie, on slender necks
Adorned by a lover's gift
Now, I a tiny thing, a bit of shell
Placed upon pink cushions, soft as day
To wait and grow, until I too, can be touched
And kissed upon a loved one's throat
See the bright moon, my love, for nights were made this
like this, ever giving us deep enchantment.
Take this my hand knowing that I am most blessed
under night's large golden orb being by your
side this rich evening.
Scattering spellbound in search of this utopia
Minds-eye in shortfall dissects one's monopoly
Through no choice of own approach it sloppily,
Exude to a position such promised, Ethiopia-
As the diminishing dream on landscapes ensemble
The probate illusion of Queen of Egypt's daughter
Who proceeds through this escapade of slaughter
And who am I forgiving one or either? I tremble.
Having reached two thousand years without absorb
Of having travelled miles, indeed was bronze;
Such ghastly size these statues, long lost sons
With indications seen through my crystal orb.
Precious filling educated, siphoning the syllable
Retracted.., words of larger scale were of faith
Those who muttered sounding, Queen Merneith,
-Alluring dynasties as Anedjib's was, as a fable-
Engulfed over as subsidiary benefactors cannibal
Over some archaeological find, for at the centre,
No godly size can interpret that this magenta,
Haze of gross sufficient was the alluring spectacle.
Expedient gauge eclipse this as the inferno;
And making this voyage with the help of a globule,
Whose crystal awareness has forgotten the rule,
That language hosts devise quoted, 'quid pro quo'.