Best Pales Poems
To win is the trying..!' gainst despairs blank stare, a wounded earth still
rolls on..! Midst the throes of territorial vying..
Shows our shattered crystal the counsel of despair
As the pales; of circumvention, invade earth's free sod and air,
Oh.! such power we covet To maintain..! what is "right?" what is yours..
can be theirs" or is it ours..? should we fight..?
Yes it tears through our city's this division reprised,
To the call of soulless ambition, destruction quickens in stride,
And! yet not new its existence..) "for know ye satan he is a liar"
Though hidden deep in shadow; was to emerge its sly desire.
Yet how ask us "innocent's" & why should this be?
Whilst we gaze upon its sickness and water the seeds..!
So we stand without reason, or we lay down condemned,
Yet open hearts to salvation; on Jesus depend,
Call his name now in season) let the fetters free fall,
The Miracle is "willing" none should perish is all..!
allure
of the moon pales -
luster lost
to the
c a n d l e l i g h t
in your eyes
Susan Ashley
March 20, 2021
*not for a contest but inspired by the “Let’s Get Creative With Haiku” poetry contest sponsored by Constance La France. Thank you, Constance, for the wonderful inspiration.*
Simply unaware....or perhaps I don't care
what others say or do
It's partially true
I'm through
Used to care what they think
of my words, of my ink
not anymore....
So much more is in store
you see...rhymes keep knocking at my door
I write and you explore
I won't be intimidated
slated or hated
my thoughts confiscated
by he said she said judgement calls
and so the mic falls
Applause reverberates
and oh how it sates
this little heart of mine
it sounds almost...divine
approval affixed
on my lines, on the mix
of these thoughts and these scribbles
gone is the dribble
of inconsistent scales
yes, it all pales
for I blossom, yes I strive
here in my poetic tribe
the true and the tried
the ones who remain
the ones who refrain
from unkind jabs
drawing blood, leaving scabs
wounds remain...
sad refrain
Yet, tranquility is my gain
I'm stronger
I've stayed here longer
and I will thrive
"staying alive"
for the select few
people like you
and people like me
who love poetry
Pseudonyms, pseudogames
I've seen them come and go
and this much I know
truth is tenacious
staying power's for the gracious
weathering the storm
an exception, not the norm
this much I can tell you:
rhymes remain resplendid
all the way through time
poetry
will
shine
Eileen Manassian
Jesus Savior...Pilot Me from walkinginsunlight.com
Across the blackest waters
ripples of pain,
swell into an anguish splashing
against the blackest shore,
and in the rustling of brittle leaves
from the shadows of tallest trees,
the darkness beckons me
to climb aboard, climb aboard,
an empty boat waiting
upon the blackest shore.
Through depths of night, I ride atop
the black of cavernous waves.
They seem to be a hollow echo
calling out my name
from the splashing of the oars
to the splashing of my pain
against the rocking boat
in the blackening of waves.
Across the water, I stir the black
and do not feel afraid,
but wonder if the water knows it holds
my every pain
my every shame
and every tear
cried out on my darkest days.
Then, from the other side, I hear the splash
of steady rain.
The purging from above seems to calm
my darkest pain.
I dip the oars deeper still
to head for waiting shores,
and from the water's floor,
bubbling, rising
more and more,
I hear the splashing,
splashing
of my own resounding laughter.
Then, a calm lightens my struggle
as the sunrise pales
my dark disasters,
and in the glare of morning
from bright sunbeams above,
I remember with a prayer,
I am loved.
I am loved
I am loved.
Written 6/4/20 for Kai Michael Neumann's
Splash Poetry Contest
dust-wearing-wind carries a feeble cry in its palm,
settles it near ears that can no longer hear.
Cries arise from hollows of your hungry face,
a pulpit of high cheeks bones— in sharp relief
to sunken skin-scape sallow and paper thin—
a preacher on the harrows of hunger.
Vulture keeps a still, silent vigil,
a patient witness to your starvation,
comrade and adversary
in a fight for your last breath and beat.
Your loyal companion, a symbol of death
where drones rain with flames on tents of refugees
and sky splitting missiles make shrapnel of the sun,
where dragon fire artillery shoots the moon
and shreds stars till they fate-fall
like the last nightjars from nocturne skies.
Dear child of war,
alone with nothing in your belly but a stone,
rib bones a famine cage,
thoracic fingers squeeze your soul.
Your heart a hostage,
flutters like a lost moth against your sternum.
I long to hold you and feed you
honey made from a million wild flowers
uncrushed beneath metal plates of tank treads.
I yearn to bathe you of collapsed concrete dust
cleanse you of your mother’s blood, her
rattle-boned, battle-owned, maternal body wrapped
over yours as they fed her Kalashnikov lead.
My faraway ache for your plight pales
against your tiny body’s black-rose-throes,
a pawn to thorns of soldiers
grown on rocket-torn-boot-worn streets.
War-zone fig trees bear no fruit,
hibiscus buds die as hornets knit nests into shrubs,
tomorrow but a diseased wheat field laid to waste.
Dear child of war,
deliverance will come when pall-bearer winds
carry your cries elsewhere…
Fog settles on the tombstones. In the dark, an eerie blue,
the graveyard is a misty ocean Raven passes through.
She stops. The solitary site is grim, devoid of sound.
Her long black gown, a ruffled slip, is satin sweeping ground.
Her sable locks lie smooth and straight across her graceful back.
Stark contrast is her alabaster skin to hair pitch-black.
This woman - with a beauty that forever captivates -
now stands, a pistol in her hand, and there steadfastly waits.
Since told the man that she adores (who left some time ago)
lies buried here, the woman’s come, for Raven has to know!
She can’t believe that he could be here in this place of doom.
He’d left for war before they’d barely been a bride and groom.
As Raven looks out on the sea of mist, her eyes have teared
because those birds that bear her name have suddenly appeared.
A sign it has to be, she thinks. The ravens drawing near
are circling above one stone. Her heart is seized with fear.
Now Raven walks to where the birds are circling above.
She pales. . . The stone she’s reading bears the name of her true love.
The fog, a sea engulfing all, has swallowed Raven too.
Gun raised, she drops down to his grave; she knows what she must do.
Silhouetted in the early morn
Five black crows await the breaking dawn
Sitting still and silent in a row
Their shadows cast a forbidding glow
Dusk turns to dawn as daylight breaks
Dark skies fade as the world awakes
The moonlight pales in the morning light
Soon to rise again and welcome night
Jan Allison
24th March 2015
form used - Ekphrasis
Black and White film Photography – A V Giorgio
~awarded 3rd place~
Sentinel of water’s beauty and breadth,
grand messenger of danger
so statuesque around an ocean's expanse--
O beaming guardian of light
Moon and waves crest upon dark of eve,
it’s time for you to flame!
Circle on for voyager’s harborage
illuminate this ferocious brine;
In quiet comfort, in nightfall’s embrace
whisper of vigilance... point out the shore
as your noble wardship rules ,
when stardust pales away…
Till boats drift across the horizon
And tower bells hum a soothing lullaby--
Allowing men the cuddle of your grace.
Lighthouse Contest of Eve Roper
12/23/2018
A dragon's scale reflects the rounds of time
her heart, the subtle beat of love sublime
a secret kept in smoke and ancient bones-
a tale best told in whispered lines of rhyme.
She flies the crystal skies in silent tones
a burning hope of love is all she owns
forgotten visions lost in endless tales
and buried deep beneath the cobbled stones.
Remaining true beyond the mystic vales
her longing for soul's kinship never pales
though crushing eras weigh upon her name,
her eyes still scan the blue where hope still sails.
The day will dawn when once again her flame
will blaze along the sky and one will tame
rebellious spirit, and her heart reclaim
from solitude's dark grasp to light's domain.
As a byway ahead grows quite dim
late evening ‘s radiance slowly pales away ---
This fiery yet compassionate woman brushes luster
into her hair and retraces the gleam
of Mother Mary's pledge so she could face
her courage to raise consciousness from unknown whispers;
praying that daybreak would find a clearer path
back home to empowerment... a reminder
that though one’s world is vast and diverse,
she is connected to every female through ' gender balance':
And through a need for equality, an inner light-wave
cuddles her in the soft of a one-universe's halo,
anointed by the gods, the earth, and of freedom itself.
-------------
March Poems, Old Or New For Prizes Part 3 Of Easter Series
For Carolyn Devonshire's Contest
-------
'Gender Balance' is one of the themes
for International Women's Day
The highest of honors bestowed by Man pales before God's humblest blessing!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
13 August 2018
Brave is the rose caught in November’s thorn
While she endures nights of chill and snow,
Awaiting gold daylight's warmth to bestow---
And liven her frame…her mouth drooped, forlorn.
Gently, new moon peeps into kohl of eve
While its luster reflects on this bud , soft
Like a pubescent ovule held aloft
By elms guarding her round shape NOT to cleave.
Though one kind-hearted owl perches nearby
Mutely disapproving this ghastly tread…
An obscure fog sprays crystals overhead
Instead, wings lock against nip of the sky.
How unwavering…in her innocence
Morning rises, its lucent gleam so young
That frozen dusk pales with wheezes unsung…
Oh, grit of a rose saved by providence!
Written 9/10/2018
Contest of Broken Dream
Enclosed Rhyme - September, 2018
The Eiffel Tower gives up its power,
When seductive Paris we travel through.
Mayfair is oft-huddled in a shower,
Tahitian lagoons lose their dreamy blue.
Little awe Greek islands inspire in me,
The romance of the Taj Mahal does pall,
An aurora’s magic I’m slow to see,
Each place we go I feel I’ve seen it all.
The eye no Saharan sky can excite,
Few vistas thrill on a hot air balloon.
The Arctic presents no breathtaking sight,
In Rio I’m hardly over the moon.
The loveliest scene pales next to your face,
And no glimpse of paradise can amaze.
Remember the star I named after you
The one that hung right next to the moon
It was as mysterious as an ancient rune
Casting its spell as through the heavens it flew
Now that star is but a distant gleam
Flickering in the shadow of a passing cloud
But your smile still colors all my dreams
For love slumbers not, it still shines proud
When the moon is full on a breezy summer night
And a wistful melody travels on for miles
I will look upon your star still shining bright
But it pales in comparison to the shadow of your smile
And when the winter comes with caress of gentle snow
Your smile will linger even if we're apart
And when we embrace in passion's tender glow
"Speak softly love and hold me warm against your heart"
4/8/16
Songs: The Shadow Of Your Smile, Speak Softly Love.
Trust, like a pitiless whore-master, grins
as between the sheets and at my breasts, he suckles.
Though Cupid lauds' the joy, I feel only stings.
The manic moon shivers to shriek-like violins
as trusting seed is split and son-less my knees buckle
mother-less street urchin blanched, impatient, sin.
In sympathy the sun pales night's mood swings
seeking to caress and hold with a fractured chuckle
love's exhausted, and misspent, ripened lingerings
To the dying day and I, cry of might-have-beens
ivory white my ice hands, my bleeding knuckles
Trust like a pitiless whore-master grins
Though Cupid lauds' the joy, I feel only stings.