Best Outreached Poems
I saw you face your lover; you both made
a pattern quite distinctive in the dark.
Silhouettes on the window shade displayed
two hands that met two others; formed an arc.
The hands, from arms outreached, delivering
their upturned palms that now together pressed,
could not release nor stop their quivering,
anticipation physically expressed.
Then two who stood behind a window posed,
at last fell trembling into love’s abyss.
Love’s essence on the shade was then transposed
as bodies touched and mouths met in a kiss.
Your shadow with your lover's intertwined.
A valentine pulsed on the window’s blind.
Sept. 11, 2017 for the Silhouette Poetry Contest of Craig Cornish
Twenty five years of grave digging finally unearthed a new birth;
Emergence into a sacred world where the secret wisdom of simplicity
Prevailed.
The connection was made, the gift giving;
Spiritual fire burned above his head.
He spoke in tongues of angels, wrote a revelation in
Divine script to be read by the mourners and widows.
Eulogies long overdue, delivered
To the souls that were left behind.
Now dangling in purgatory with outreached grasping hands
Toward heaven and feet smoldering in hell.
Waiting for the “Great Provision” to pull them into
The sanctuary of submission.
on the edge
of sloped hills
i stand alone
limbs outreached
longing for warmth
as i shiver
within this cold
december breath
i am bare
colorless
and numb
snapping within
from the weight
that hangs
like icicles
from branches
of soulless life
grounded
beside me
my shadow
is falling
more shallow
in these darker days
surrounding me
where i struggle
to flourish
my boughs
almost kissing
the soil
of twisted roots
already deadened
the raven
has landed again
to test the weight
of my faithful branches
only to see
if i will surrender
and succumb
to the valley below
as a lifeless figure
like those before me
i stand my ground
colorless, naked
and alone...
december 22, 2019
I am a tree poetry contest
Sponsored by Delilah Ventura
It clouds the vision of its proponents
Causing them to see things that are not.
It mixes their minds into components
To which rational people give no thought.
It dismisses those whose eyes are angled
Or whose skin is anything but white.
It is quick to see the homeless as mangled
And to surmise they cannot be half-right.
It believes its views are singularly correct
And all other positions implacably wrong.
It lumps non-conformists into a sect
And treats them as a misguided throng.
It forecloses on every outreached move
Designed to help it achieve perspective.
It knows what it knows—nothing to prove,
Unaware its thinking is grossly defective.
It owns uniquely the truth of every issue,
Taking care to avoid having facts intervene.
Its arguments are made of gossamer tissue,
And in time they are sluiced from the scene.
the alluring subtlety of her curves with each little sway
his basic instincts overflowing from pulsing music and spirits
her attire revealing, leaving little else to the imagination
while her pheromone laced perspiration wafting his way
leads him to eagerly vacate his sedentary position of yearning
his approach stealthy, shadowing her in the rhythmic flailing crowd
her unostentatious heartbeat pulsing ever louder as he draws nearer
discerning her rushing luscious liquid from all others around
changing luminescense reflected in rolling beads of her chest sweat
openly glaring at the flesh confining the valve pumping inside
eyes closed, twirling around, her sensual tornado drawing him in
eyes opened, pivoting stopped, her pursuer's eyes fixated on her
his lavish and sincere visual praising brings about a coy smile
outreached hands taking hold and leading him through the throng
making headway for the exits, her goal the cool, crisp night air
outside the dead night slowly drying up the freshly laid rain
interrupted by the metal on metal clanging sound of the door
protagonist and antagonist, stepping out, hand in hand
their hurried steps implying an itch of a greater magnitude
their hands and lips putting on a public display outside her flat
[ character limit preventing poem from being posted as a single piece - part two quickly forthcoming ]
I saw you face your lover; you both made
a pattern quite distinctive in the dark.
The shadows on the window shade displayed
two hands that met two others; formed an arc.
The hands, from arms outreached, delivering
their upturned palms that now together pressed,
could not release nor stop their quivering,
anticipation physically expressed.
Then two who stood behind a window posed,
at last fell trembling into love’s abyss.
Love’s essence on the shade was then transposed
as bodies touched and mouths met in a kiss.
Your shadow with your lover's intertwined.
A valentine pulsed on the window’s blind.
Written Jan. 30, 2014
There's something from the Chinese
that's called the poor man's fortune.
when back in the beginning
was thought of as misfortune.
My story starts with Sally Trac
A waitress in a chain.
One courteous and generous
that no one would call vain.
Each day would be a badgering
where Sally'd pester me.
and I'd return the pestilence
Our humor running free.
I'd order up a coffee milked.
A coffee Sally'd make.
The moment came up often
as the days turned into wake.
In sipping it I'd soon relax;
when tapped upon the shoulder.
And turn around where Sally'd be
Her smile come close as bolder.
An outreached hand to beckon me
presented me with cookies.
Them broken and no fortunes,
as if to come from bookies.
Without their guidance I was lost
unless you count their portions.
For Sally giving cookies free
would be the poor man's fortune.
I shall not cry on the shoulder that supports me,
I shall not weep for this sweet passing,
through the celebrations and pitfalls,
the heartaches and achievements,
joys and sorrows,
you gave me inner peace and spurred my creativeness.
Everything one touches becomes connected,
with every outreached hand of kindness
we,
as a society,
grow,
and become one.
From connectivity we live on
in the teachings we pass to those still here
and the expressive creations we leave behind.
So I will not weep on this shoulder I lean on,
I will not cry over your passing
because you live on
in every one of my pen strokes,
each note I offer to the crowd,
every ounce of healing I give to someone.
Your energy surrounds
and consoles us,
even as we gather together
to say this bitter goodbye,
as you join the souls of our ancestors
whom hold us up at our worst
and light the way in our darkest hour.
Our lighthouse,
in the maelstrom of life.
I can't cry on this shoulder you give me,
I won't weep from your passing,
for you could take what was discarded,
almost reinvent it
with a flourish of your whimsy.
Though you had gotten lost in your travel
it doesn't affect what you gave me,
for because of you,
my touch
alters the future,
every nuance,
Every Verse,
EVERY MELODY I CREATE,
can destroy or build up what is our now,
and I want it to heal it.
So I shall not weep on the shoulder that holds me,
I shall not cry because you have left us,
for our time here is ours
and what we do with it,
how we touch the Earth is all that matters.
Passing is just the next step in life
that rebuilds the closeness of humanity.
In loving memory of Denise Ruth Wyllie May 2, 2017
Beloved Aunt, Mother, Sister.
A Grand Design
Through nature’s symbiotic grand design—
They share each other’s gifts in perfect plan;
The honeysuckle’s offering of thick
Sweet nectar which the butterfly consumes,
While pollen carried safely will transfer
To other blooms—create new life in turn.
The vibrant flower colors draw it in
To feast, while hidden pollen waits its fate.
Oh butterfly, earth's gift of renewed hope
Transformed from dark cocoon to work of art,
Bright fleeting beauty dancing in the sun
With perfect symmetry of form and grace—
A painted flutter, splashing joy through space,
With grand design that sparks new seeds to life.
Like butterflies I fly through light of day
To propagate my gifts of art with grace.
And glowing honeysuckle kissed by sun,
Sweet nature’s palette splashed with red and gold,
A symbol of a heart aflame with love,
Unselfishly to offer sustenance
Of life within uplifted cups that hold
The treat for all that come to rest and drink.
With outreached hands I offer nurturing
To those who seek, my heart aflame with love.
Sandra M. Haight
~NA~
Contest: The Butterflies Among Us
Sponsor: Skat A.
Judged: 08/18/2015
.
The sparrows praised the morning sun,
He hugged the forest in his warm- outreached arms
The sun cascaded and grazed his fingers through every crisp leaf,
Over every sleepy tenant- illuminating their curiosity for each other
And the breeze laughed- happy to be alive
She laughed as she ruffed every tree,
All now fully dressed
She cackled down from the clouds and into every burrow
The family of trees just stood by watching the neighborhood awaken
Cousins rubbing elbows- Fathers shading their sproutlings
Creaking in quiet protest to the construction worker woodpeckers
Just happy at the turn of the weather
And the early blooming lilies gossiped to themselves
About the underdressed daisies
And the breeze disturbing their groomed leaves
And how the sun was too hot so early
The sky watching them all rejoicing,
For she wasn't alone anymore,
Left with bleeding ears from the squirrels complaints of the cold
Landlord to to all she welcomed them back to her care
In bloom was it all, and all was in bloom
March 1, 2023
In bloom poetry contest
Joseph May
LAST GLANCE
Time slips its bond to fall on outreached hands,
Gingerly seeping through fingers,
Grasping one last glance at the Grace that was;
When you last spoke,
Last touched,
Last felt the sun upon your face,
And smiled at the warmth of it.
Memories fade yet linger - waiting for no reason,
But to be for the moment, then replaced,
By din of present life once more,
Touching one last glance of the Grace that was;
Your Presence,
When you last laughed,
Last Loved,
Last felt the wind in your hair and
Lingered in the Brace of it.
J.R. Twaddell © Reprised 2011
I got a curse
A witch appeared
And made me small
When I was wandering
A big ant hauled me
to an ant's colony
A pile of rice, chunks of meats
Tons of sugar pieces and shelves of sweets,
I discerned there
Hoarding their nutritious hay
Working 24/7 a day
They never got tired
Sitting on the back of an ant
I eloped the colony and
Stepped into a garden enchanting
With colorful hues around
Every plants wore a crown
Oh, the divine fragrance, couldn't apprise
Enticed by the orange flowers
I embraced one and slept for hours
Floated in a heavenly dream
When I opened my eyes
I was flying to my surprise
Bewildered me, cried
Realised I was anchored on a butterfly
My euphoria she amplified
Flying along with her, I adored the world
When she met her mate fair
Performed divine dance in the air
And dropped me in the land wild
Exhausted me, slept on a brown wood
Oh ho! It's not a wood but a dry leaf
Which floated when zephyr kissed him
Clutching the leaf's petiole
I was flying like a golden oriole
Until the leaf fell down into a fall
Glided the cascading falls
Like riding on water coaster
I outreached the jubilant river
Flowing along with the river pure
Espied her esteemed generous life
My mental and physical illness got cured
Through the treasured estuary
Mingled with the sea finally
Calm and relaxed my soul was
Pondering the magical ride
Relished on the shore long
Until tugged by a tall tide
Diving deep into the sea
Glimpsed colorful trees
Yes, the coral reefs
Emerged there a mermaid
I was really afraid
But she caressed me gleefully
I started penning verses
About my retained curse
"Is this even a curse" She grinned and disappeared
"Oh! Yes! It's not a curse, a blessing actually"I shouted;
On seeing me relishing the curse, the witch chagrined
Detonated the witch, my positivity
And my curse turned into a blessing already
May 13 2022
-Daily Poetry #8, February 5, 2017-
Word: Drain
Rain falls and soaks the earth with the heaven's tears,
The wind blowing through and dissolving all of my fears.
The aching heart I wear on my sleeve is worn away,
So I no longer worry about the pain, it is for another day.
My body is eroded with life's wear and tear, and my face is stained,
With emotions I once knew how to show, but now, I feel drained.
I wish the water would wash me away like dirt and find another use for me,
Or the wind would take me away to another place, for these eyes no longer see.
But alas, all I can do is tilt my head back as the clouds slowly fade,
For I know such a wish is impossible, for I am alive, I cannot degrade.
“Let me take you away,” I believe that voice in the back of my head,
And though it is a lie, I will believe every word it said.
“Take my hand and follow me.” I cannot truly follow you, or so I believed,
But here you are, your hand outreached, though you were bereaved.
It is nothing but a lie, I believe that as I close my eyes,
And allow your fleeting presence to lead me to the skies.
The sun shimmers once more, and with tears of joy, my cheeks are stained,
With you, none of my expressions will look pained.
With you, I smile as I'm drained
You are just a girl..oh wait.... A mother!!!
with ceasing dreams
ematiated talent
fading destiny
repeated history
yet you never learn.....
You are just a girl...oh wait.....a mother!!!
almost forgotten responsibilities
of growing up with undefeated needs
binded in chains of uncertanities
lost in the ground where you would flash insecurities
You were just a girl
planted fatal seeds
shattered dreams
played wrecklessly
you are fumbling with no direction
outreached the stage of progress due to age
you are still in the foundation phase
why woman won’t you learn? why can’t you adapt?
You are just immarture but yet and adult
selfish and selfless
with hands and fingers you can not utilise on
consecutive erros you don’t acknowledge
wasted time you can never replace
I feel sorry for you mate ,
but thers still hope in regrets,
to fix the mistakes
A strong wind blew
On the water blue
The storm had brewed
They weren't buckaroos
The sail broke in half
It was tied with a scarf
Hoping it would hold
All were feeling cold
Praying to get ashore
It seemed such a chore
This was never done
Their bodies were sore
With big boo-boos
They wanted to reach
the beach
That was outreached