Best Pelting Poems
Above bleak pastures,
A cobalt coliseum:
Warriors are unleashed.
·
Aggressive brave clouds,
Battle for the dominance:
Vanquishment is vague.
·
Conquest of power,
Clash of divine elements:
Battle in the sky.
·
Sun and clouds collide,
On a battlefield landscape:
The land prays for reign.
·
The golden swords pierce,
As injured clouds hemorrhage:
Pelting the pastures.
·
With sharp swords of light.
The golden gladiator:
Obtains victory.
nascent
dawn appears
kaleidoscope
of
color
midnight
sighs
leftovers
of
last night
plateful of
unsaid
words,
a
tablecloth
of rapier-sharp
folds
&
fireplace
dying
to be
kept
alive
sensitive
hearts
feel
powerful
in
mundane
rain
pelting
petals
think
of
others
when eating
remember
pigeon
food
when fighting
remember
seeking
peace
paying water-bill
remember
cloud-nursed
when homecoming
remember
homeless
campers
when sleeping
counting stars
remember
sleepless,
roofless
foodless
healthless
hopeless
be a candle
in
dark
snow
mixed
drizzle ...
dust-covered
man
holds
hand
of daughter
dying
slowly
under
slabs
of
concrete
life
illusion
dream
swoon
ecstasy
oblivion
1st Place Contest Winner
Written: February 14, 2023
YOUR SELECTION AGAIN Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
NOTE::THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' (intuitive cadence)& so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
When I close my eyes I hear the sound of your voice floating in the
air like dandelion fur, catching the breeze and dancing upward.
I remember the day when we camped in the rain and wrapped
ourselves in blankets to keep warm, hearing the acorn size
drops pelting the tent and feeling the rain vibrations explore
our coupled bodies.
How could I have known then what I know now …. the ancient
wisdom that you have carried with you since the beginning of time.
You speak to me …
Your words rise up in my soul
filling my being. I feel you gently
cupping my heart in your hands,
caressing it tenderly. Lifting your
arms above your head I feel the
warmth of the sunlight on my
heart. With eyes closed I bask in
the moment.
I am transported to flight as a white hawk
stretching my arms out into my new wings and alighting
on the warm current that lifts me higher.
I am surrounded ……
It is quiet as I glide. Looking downward
I dip one wing and then another. I let
myself be enveloped, conscious of the wind
on my feathers. I am free. Free to fly. Free
to take in all that surrounds me, all that is above me,
below me, the scents, the sounds, the silence, the
memories of past, and the vision of the future.
I am one with you.
Below winding rivers and streams make S shapes
and figure 8’s, dancing, curving and rolling
with winking glitter on their surfaces.
Dry red rocks dot their shores and a heat ….
A heat rushes by.
Onward, upward past towering pines reaching to
the sky whose tips call me with their green beauty.
They call. They sing. I hear their ancient voices, as
their seeds fall silently on the ground.
Leaning into a turn I dip one wing and
see water before me falling in the distance.
I am being called… beckoned onward.
There are answers ahead.
The mist clings to my feathers and
moisture coats me as I fly closer. The
water is my soul, my heart, my life.
Whiteness and sound thunder around
me and yet a peace resides within.
I am home.
And We Call It……
Sprinkles, drizzles,
Mists and downpours;
Torrents, cloudbursts
Liquid sunshine;
Showers, deluge,
Mists and squalls,
Gully washers -
Thunder showers.
Pelting, pounding,
Soaking, drenching;
Dancing, pouring
Cats and dogs;
Bursting, drifting
Floating, falling,
Coming down
In buckets.
Comes in summer
Rides on thunder,
Comes in autumn
Twirls on whirlwinds;
Comes in winter
Plays with blizzards;
Comes in springtime
Floats on breezes.
Puddles, pools
Of standing water;
Dripping eaves –
Filling gutters;
Celebration
For umbrellas
And we call it…..
RAIN!!!
Winter descended upon the prairie plain
Pelting the ground with freezing rain
Nipping, biting this cold morning air
Thin layers of ice coated everywhere
You get out on the road but don't step on the brake
That would be your biggest mistake
For it would make you slide and spin
This would start your heart pump'in within
The accidents, fender benders take there toll
Some cars or even semi's can roll
The roads become a treacherous place
You crawl like a turtle at a snails pace
You dread having to go out that day
Driving is dangerous they say
you get behind the wheel and pray
No one will back end you along the way
Sunless days under artic charred skies
frozen rain pelting, making me cry
harsh north winds, chill to the bone
why do I even call this place home?
Dreams of paradise have begun
Endless sunsets over clear cobalt seas
Pure white sands blanketing a quiescent cove
as a warm zephyr floats across my bronzing tan
and then I see her
that smooth Mediterranean toned skin
sauntering slowly through the gentle tide
playful splashes glimmering off her sun kissed lips
her dark sunglasses and colourful hat attempting to hide her beauty
but I know
I can see it in her graceful gait
in her sensuous sway
the way she lightly kicks the water
and definitely in her smile
oh how she flashed it my way
when she saw my stare
when I walked up
and she flipped that hair
an angel rising from the sea
my missing olive tree
I knew
I knew she was for me
we walked the beach and talked
she took my hand
my heart went a flutter
as our lovelorn lips locked
I was home
The gifted house and the ghost of his Grandmother trapped him. Her presence clung with the leftover nicotine to the walls of every room. A childless marriage and a rancid divorce left its bile in the scum atop the kitchen counters—rust-rings on the bathroom’s porcelain. The horse chestnut tree outside the door stood as an overt warning, pelting anyone trying to enter. As his lover, I disregarded it.
wisteria
uproots the moss-laced lawn:
a pet’s gravestone
With steel wool and a strong arm, I whitewashed the house. Grandmother’s spirit smiled in the spring when new bulbs rose. But, the antique cannon in the front hall still aimed at the door. The man was too used to his darkness. Love was not enough.
trespassers
are shot on sight:
empties on the stoop
Published by KYSO Flash 2015
Poe laid flowers on her grave
His lost Lenore
One he’d love forevermore
But doomed to see her nevermore
Storm clouds expelled true daylight
Yet near her grave on a dead oak tree
An ebony raven stared and seemed to agree
“Nevermore,” the bird mocked, flying off with ironic glee
Clouds burst, pelting the cemetery with rain
Back to his horse and carriage Poe ran
Was Poe a pawn in this raven’s game plan
An unhealthy racing of his heart began
Arriving home, Poe sought to forget
But there was the red-eyed, sinister bird
Perched on the pallid bust of Pallas, it said just one word
“Nevermore,” was all Poe heard
Stealthily the bird had entered through an open window
“Did God summon you to add to my grief?”
Poe pleaded, “Will I ever find relief?”
“Nevermore,” cried the demon, to Poe’s disbelief
Poe tried to rid his home of the tormenting invader
“Fly away; take your word with you!”
But the evil visitor would not bid adieu
Its single word was malicious; Poe could not misconstrue
When rainfall ended, the raven flew to the windowsill
“Be gone!” Poe screamed, his voice filled with hate
It eyed him once more, leaving Poe in a crazed state
But loving memories of Lenore it could not desecrate
*Written October 1, 2014
Cheerily blew ocean breeze in beach-park
Till fiery tides climbed bouncing giant rock
Spurred on by the churning clouds hosting dark
As hazy winds ravaged paths on your walk
Rattling lashing gust where fishing boats dock.
Stranger were we, till blinding storm hit blast
Pouring pelting rain on our budding talk,
Waddling needlessly in each other's past--
Alas, like summer rain, our amour faded fast!
Yet I stayed, wooed by nascent azure sky
Charmed anew by rising violet hue
Dispersing vestiges of storm gone by
Enchanting crowds in periwinkle view
As you returned bearing secret you knew
Ready for the prize with smile in your eyes
Admiring beauty in portrait I drew
Starring just you beneath amorous skies
Depicted by my hands sporting romantic highs.
June 28, 2018
To the sound of pelting rain, she woke in early morning
Upon the tattered tin roof, it rhythmically pitter pattered
No sunlight peeked through clouds on daylight's dawning
She thought of him and of the dreams that were shattered,
of the nights she'd spend without end, remorse spawning
Windblown rain pummeled windows, on sills it splashed
Obscured was her view, vision blurred behind each pane
Howled as does a wolf, thunder growled, lightning flashed
In rivulets like rain, was weeping she struggled to restrain
Like drops of blood from a wound, her teardrops splashed
That night, in shadowed lamplight she espied on the corner,
a familiar silhouette of one whose countenance was a given
Dark eyes of a raven who had waived his right to scorn her
No vocal cawing was riven as torrents of rain were driven
He was beyond the reach of this sad beseeching mourner
Outside she ventured, into the sting of nettled showers
for just one glimpse of him, she would offer as her reason
On the street, scattered at her feet, her espousal flowers
Fallacy, was an act Charlotte Bronte' would label 'treason'
Uncloaked, soaked, she stood with her memories for hours
From grief she could not hide nor abide her mirrored face
His eyes, for once unveiled, yet not one word did he speak
A webbing of fine silk threads spun, woven in warm embrace
He had raised no hand in farewell. A tear grazed her cheek
Without solace she would linger in portals of empty space
She trembled, shivering, eyes teary, there was no mistaking
her sips from tainted cup had the caustic taste of bitter gall
The impeccant knight chose the right to claim his forsaking
Nimbus skies lay overcast without surcease of a graying pall
Fraught with aching, she sighed one word, "heartbreaking."
Recycling ourselves endlessly, we are the givers of life for all.
A misconception is that we bear the shape of a tear.
In fact we are flat although from the side, we appear
Nearly round, as from the sky we fall.
Dropping gently as showers when we are small,
Reveling in pelting the earth when we are large, we can be something to fear.
On land we can cause floods. Driven by wailing wind, we are a squall.
Petrichor, our scent so fresh, we hope that you at least recall
Subsequent to our appearance, which no one can forestall!
Dancing to the tune of iniquity,
Deviously artless in their silent retreat,
Elusively lashing out unjustly,
Pelting out timorous creeds;
A casualty in their vapid beliefs,
Brought upon by diligent lunacy,
Primed in erroneous ideologies.
Word Quintet in C Major
By Stark Hunter
Open the door my friend,
Climb on in,
Join me here in this relentless caravan,
This unstoppable, this incontrovertible,
this inexorable movement,
To the depths of the dry gulf.
Join me here my friend,
In this annihilating armada,
This incontrovertible migration,
This inexorable swarm
To the watery crossroads of the dry places,
To the liquid asphalt of insipid time!
I stare at you from across the room here.
I stare and gawk and hawk at you,
And I feel the pelting rain of desire.
You look good over there, sitting
With beautiful gleaming crossed legs.
“Sorry, beg your pardon,
I say, but have we not met before?
Did we not share beers on the Terrace of Tyre
At sunset?
Did we not tell each other stories,
Old stories of love and betrayal and heartbreak?
At sunset?
Did we not look away from each other,
When stories of new love suddenly emerged,
As with a new sunrise?”
My friend, there is no
Escape from this throbbing hole, no
Escape from this cold numbing wind,
This whirlingly insane wind
Of cold blasts of killing ice.
And I ride here
Ride like a sweating Sultan,
Astride the mighty beast of Tyre!
Perched high in rich raiment,
I wave to the multitudes
I send a salute to the throng!
I ride shotgun here
Ride nice and easy
Like a tanning garçon on his off day,
Like a sitting trog waiting wistfully,
Waiting waiting for gams not intended for him.
My friend, the world turns and turns,
It turns today and tomorrow,
It will turn as the river turns in spring,
It will turn as a woman’s heart turns,
When eyes that once stared ahead, now look away.
It will turn my friends because it has to!
Riding, Riding, Riding….
Downhill now! The insane wind
Assaults me. Harasses me. Accosts me.
It presses its loose lips upon my face,
It seeks the mad blood of passion!
“Let us calm ourselves
Reassure ourselves
That all is right and as planned.
Let us all look at one another!
Let us all nod in agreement!
The days ahead will manifest themselves,
Transfigure themselves,
As blooms upon the water lilies.
I am the maestro
Of land sky and sea
I am
A living
Breathing
Symphony
Of many sounds
And sights
That I have found
Like the BOOM
Of the ocean
When I lift her up
Then throw her down
Her roar
When I roll her
To crash upon the cliffs
Along the shore
Or the tinkling
Of her shattered pieces
Falling back
Into the tide
As I fly - Fly - Fly -
High
Beneath
The blue
Of a North Carolinian sky
Over---
The burning sand
Slipping through
The slender
Sea Grasses
That whistle
As I tickle
Every strand
Whooshing -
Through the cities
And the towns
Tumbling
Bramble bushes
All around
Slamming shutters
And banging doors
Before I leave
Turning every leaf
On every tree
As I fly- fly- fly-
Higher and higher
Piercing
The heavy black clouds
To make them cry
With screams
So loud
They crack the sky
That thunders
In reply
Throwing
Bolts of lighting
Pelting drops of rain
As I fly- fly - fly -
Through the night
Into another day
Where
My concerto
Finally
Comes
To rest
Upon
MY
Dying
b
r
e
a
t
h
Linda the queen of Winda is in the swing of moods
She keeps the little dove on swing, on her eggs she broods
Little dove gives her a letter
God has written “you’re go-getter"
And soon you'll be better “the dove's eggs are your dudes"
The weeny dove goes to the queen with the full of beans
Eggs are brattling love is crackling and the dance begins
Dovelets jump to the queen's lap
Sweet queen Linda, you’re not in trap"
"Snow is melting; God is pelting love at your sheens"
Queen of Winda, sweetest Linda sits on a satin
In the light of candle her tresses glisten in preen
Dovelets dance around Linda
And Maramba and Bellinda
With a kinda smell of river Linda goes to teen
Contest: Fighting Depression(poems for PD)
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
03rd December,2014
AFFIRMATION
WE ARE PRAYING FOR LINDA.ALL ARE PRAYING FOR LINDA.PRAYER HAS CONCENTRATED POWER. THE PRAYER WILL MAKE LINDA OKAY.WE ALL LOVE LINDA. LINDA IS LOVE. MAY GOD GIVE HER INNER PEACE. SANTIH SANTIH SANTIH