Best Pane Poems
rain streaks down window pane
sadness echoes in thunder's roar
teardrops falling from cloudy eyes
yet in some distant place
laughter colors sky with rainbow
5-18-19
Writing Challenge 2, May 2019, Lind68868 Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Theme 2: Comparative Thought
I talk to the trees
but they don’t listen to me…
I tell you my dreams
and while you’re listening to me
I suddenly see them
come true
—Alan Jay Lerner/Frederick Loewe I Talk to the Trees
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Gaze Out the Pane
Gaze out the pane,
As if a wand turned dark to light.
Gaze out the pane,
Green leaves morph murky to champagne.
Piquant of trees; peaking’s excite.
Wonders you miss with oversight.
Gaze out the pane.
A snowman knocking on my window pane,
his breath puffing white in the chilly frigid air.
Five feet tall, three large snowballs of different sizes,
with the biggest at the bottom and the smallest for his head.
A carrot for his nose, coal for his eyes and mouth,
and a corncob pipe with a great big smile.
Tree branches for his arms
with an old, crooked, large black top hat on his head
and a red scarf around its neck.
Tap, Tap, Tap,
“Would you come out and play,
its cold and no one’s out.
Would you come out and play.”
With half frozen tears trickling down his white face, he said.
“I can show you a land of enchantment that is amazingly fun.
We can go to a frozen lake where we can put on our skates
and skate around the frozen ice and Arabesque or do a Twizzle.
Or make a hole in the ice and go ice-fishing with a strong branch,
string, and safety-pin and catch yellow perch or walleye.
When we’re all done,
we can ride a sled with bells and a team of Santa Clause’s reindeer
fly around the shimmering snow covered rooftops
and see what Jack Frost has done to this magical wonderland.”
Tap,Tap,Tap,
“Would you come out and play.”
Raindrops on the window pane
watching them running down
the wetness looks so cold
but don't let heart to frown
Raindrops on the window pane
they meander in different ways
taking your eyes many a route
looking like a watery maze
Raindrops on the window pane
a picture of life's changing scene
not knowing what day will bring
whatever it all possibly may mean
Raindrops on the window pane
brings memories of my childhood
sitting in my bedroom all alone
as the rain outside effects my mood
Raindrops on the window pane
it's all under God's sovereign control
the one who brings snow wind and rain
keeps His eye ever on my soul
(On rainy days in my childhood sitting in my bedroom watching the rain drops on my window pane brought many a transfixing thought.)
That big grey palate
Outside my window
Stroked with raindrops
Happiness from the skies
The window sighs
While I look outside
Gentle drops of water
Adorn the window-frame
The Gods do play
While the Earth sings
She is the bride, they say
We shower her with rain
The earthy fragrance
Flirting with the wild orchids
Lulling the newborn to sleep
Avatars of happiness, it seems
Hoarse laughter from the crow
Perched now on the treetop
Drenched in the rain
Feels like a king, for sure
My mind is on the streets
Jumping in the puddle
Near that tailor’s shop
Simple joy it seeks
Unrestrained hair blowing
Being wooed by the wind
Sitting beside the window
I put on a pleasant grin
The heart is light
The soul is unshackled
Leaving the skin behind
I dissolve in the surroundings
The rain is still falling
The thunder is boasting
Intoxicated I am now
In the wine of happiness
From a window I stood, arm leant against the pane, fingers hunched and bitter cold,
Toughened glass, tinted, you can see the light, but only through the grain,
The rays kiss the ground, the clouds cushion the sky, the colours are dull,
The open land is vast, with bellowing winds, if you listen carefully you’ll here them cry.
Weakened pavements that lead to nowhere, gutters from where life is drained,
Curbs that stand tall to those that lay, to those that cant stand its to hard to bare
Soil that we seed, water to drown our sorrow, trees that hang lifeless,
They’re lifted with light, but its not because they can see, its shelter we borrow.
Time stands beside me, no emotion on her face, her hands are there but she has no grip,
She gives herself for us to waste, to only wish we could stop her, or change her pace
TBC....
Water flows from the dam of life,
Not easy, but not all strife.
There is a point at which we die,
Lest we forget, not all goes awry.
Often, we denounce and scold,
As we pass from young to old.
Friends and family are to adore,
Before you or they are no more.
Love is like a pane of glass.
Held by two, it can endure.
If by one, too heavy a mass,
Alone not too sure.
Always in motion, never stable,
Never static, ever brittle.
Held a moment, barely able,
To withstand the noncommital.
Words you utter, tone of voice,
A grimace, smile, or rolling eye.
Words and deeds are your choice,
Be they honey or some lye.
Every thought or smile,
Frown or furrow can beguile,
And must pass first this test:
Is it really for the best?
If the pane glass should drop,
It will chip, crack or shatter.
Damage you cannot stop,
Lasting memory does matter.
Each cycle does grow short,
The glass ever more frail.
Until that one last retort,
You’ve had the final rail.
You get no second chance,
To name what really mattered.
Gone forever, that romance,
The pane of glass, has shattered.
Through the dark still summer's night,
'bove waves of sea-green foam,
speeds a beam of dim moonlight
that's left its lunar home...
Easily it makes its way,
as nature was intending,
through Heaven's gate
its path is straight,
not circular or bending.
Between the stars, and fields of grain
it sets the world a glow,
as it slips between the blinds and pane
of a single house below...
It lands upon a snuggled pair,
for its path was true (and chosen).
A kiss they share, their bodies bare
they're lovers interwoven...
Copyright © 2007
Sheltered from the pain outside
The walls that hold us in
A pane of glass as a reminder
Of our very sins
Children crying in the streets
Waste washed away by rain
The homeless folk we never greet
Lying in silent pain
Land that's scarred by roads we've tarred
Ugly electric pylons
Steaming vents misting up
The door steps that we cry on
Starvation, violence, emotional abuse
Love for money with no excuse
Scraping skies with devilish horns
The ozone layer that we've torn
But far into the distance
The birds chirp in the trees
Beauty flows right down the river
For free, for no fee
sandpaper savage today
buttermilk wavelength tomorrow
directions are like buffets in multidirectional earthquakes
yet and still i cherish the day
downward spiral clouded pepper today
scallops dipped in butter sauce tomorrow
arrows are like indecisive enthusiasts continuously banging their heads
yet and still i cherish the day
driving off of an embankment today
sucking nipples carelessly on a pillowtop mattress tomorrow
pathways are like emotional guessing games defiant to antiquated rules
yet and still i cherish the day
Saturday evening rain down my window pane,
Shades pulled down hide the sight of clear dribbling dots,
Spending the night alone with the soothing pings of water outside tying to come in.
Remember when the AC broke right before the long weekend?
We couldn't get it fixed for a full week,
Instead of complaining about heat,
We went to the beach and took it all in.
Funny how the seasons change so quickly.
One day—
The sea will be my backyard
Every morning, standing upon the deck
Of the one called Going Numb
A “Greatest Dad” mug in one hand
My last vice burning orange in the other
I will watch the sun rise like the formidable Phoenix
Warming the blue green sea with her touch
As tender fingers of a salty breeze
Run through my silvery hair
A time worn wharf will serve as my threshold
Warped planks and crusted pilings
Proffering a story of victories against the storms of sea
Aromas of fish and diesel oil
Making promises of resilience yet seen
Seagulls as nameless neighbors
Charmingly silent until beckoned
By day old bread and salty crackers
Perched upon the strakes of the Going Numb
Black eyes praising me as they wait
To devour the next gratis morsel
A galley will greet any wingless visitors
Who happen by
Barstools for three, plus me
Wait obediently before the coffee-stained counter
A toaster and tea kettle from yesteryear
A hidden bottle of rum
Is all this old man will need
With but a few steps, travel with me astern
Over the worn colorless carpet
Past the curtain of puka shells
Hung by stranger before I knew her
A sturdy cot with too many pillows
Serves as my nighttime rest
Where the sea’s gentle waves
Lull away loneliness
And Adele whispers love songs to my soul
Between the galley and my humble nest
A room where I attempt to do my best
A small writing table with pad and pencil
A beige shaded lamp provides the rest
Nostalgic bookshelves of cinder blocks and planks
Against the portside wall
A stage for those who have inspired—
Hemingway, Atwood, Tolkien, and Plath
King James and Lewis as bookends
Hold it all together
Three windows each, port and starboard
To look out
Or in
One with an untold story
I will never know
Or tell
A stained-glass pane
Cracked and old
Beauty in a way
That will never be told
By prose or poem or
By me
One day—
A new chapter in my life will come
Closing the pages of before
My purpose complete
Children grown
Now with ones to call their own
Having moved from a time of needing
To the days of occasionally calling
The old man on the sea
One day—
I will stand alone
On the deck
Of my new home
With seagulls as chaperones
And briny air in my lungs
I will watch the sunset
Through stained-glass pain
MOTHS ON THE WINDOW PANE
Like abandoned waifs
Their faces at the window pane:
Big eyes and flapless wings
All pale and colorless
Out in the dark night,
Silent witnesses
Staring into my life
Listening impassively
As you quietly explained -
You had met
A new face and wanted
To be
Free
To be
With him and
You were leaving me -
My heart was crushed
And throat was choked
As I stared out
Into the silent blackness,
All pale and colorless
With flapless wings
Abandoned.
Through longing eyes she watches,
The games, the fun, the laughter.
Her heart longs to be a part
Before, during, after.
She winces as they point in her direction,
For the giggling only grows, as they revel in rejection.
A warm, wet tear rolls down her reddened cheek,
But she smiles anyway for words she cannot speak.
As she slowly turns away and fades into the shadows,
Silently she wishes for nevermore tomorrows.
But the dawning of new days arrive,
Commencing daylights in rebirth,
Peering through the pane still,
She questions her self worth.
Then one day, peering through the pane,
Suddenly she hears, yes, indeed, her name.
As the pounding in her chest increases, her vision becomes a blur.
Her ears must be hearing things for they can't be meaning her.
The crowd is persistent. They continue their request.
They're even adding words like, "Come on! You are the best!"
So, bravely she steps out from behind the pane.
She offers all the best she has, never thinking of self gain.
They gather 'round her with bubbly, eager chat.
Laughing and convincing her, she is where it's at.
Her heart is filled with gladness, perpetuated joy.
For she can't believe, her acceptance, they employ.
Now the task has been completed, drawn into a close.
Where is everyone? Hadn't her they chose?
With sadness and dismay, she stares in disbelief,
Feeling so forsaken by each a clever thief.
So, once again, she stands alone, on the outside looking in.
A deepened, swelling sorrow forges the unforgiving sin.
Discouraged and disheartened, more so than before,
She knows her strength has dissipated, gone forevermore.
Ne'er will she peer again through a cold, relentless pane.
Her heart, her spirit, shattered hopelessly by unmitigated pain.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2007-05-06 All rights reserved.
Past the pane, the newly-risen sun
Embodies hopes to rise, to peak, to wane,
And here within, the music has begun:
Fearful, aggressive songs of despair and pain.
And on my mind’s horizon swarm
The strange possessors of my form,
A-bustle to the rhythm of the sounds that sting my soul.
And, as I gaze into the blue beyond,
The universal of my heart’s pursuit,
I call to God and pray my echoing voice…
But ah! my voice is mute.