Best Pelts Poems
The cold hand of Winter swiftly approaches
Its breath etches frost on my windowpanes
Nearer my threshold, Death now encroaches
Blood is slowly chilling inside my frail veins
Reaper's wild winds pelts hail on my roof
His breath etches frost on my windowpanes
Snowdrifts climb higher on the sills in reproof
Huddled in a corner, my fear is spurred
Reaper's wild winds pelts hail on my roof
This room is the chamber where I'll be interred
On the threshold of madness, I'm losing grip
Huddled in a corner, my fear is spurred
Winter's hand has caused a temperature dip
I flinch at the sound of a knock on my door
On the threshold of madness, I'm losing grip
Terror incites me to curse what I abhor
The cold hand of Winter swiftly approaches
I flinch at the sound of a knock on my door
Nearer my threshold, Death now encroaches
August 17, 2017
Categories:
pelts, death, fear,
Form:
Terzanelle
Amplifying vehemence of thunder, roaring on skyline ablaze,
Lightning strikes, shattering clouds, sparkling scorching haze,
Blasting dry, sunstruck meadows, drenching thirsty terrain,
Gushing streams, rushing thrust ferocious of turbulent rain.
In realms of dimming yonder, trees whirl, shake, and sway,
Grooving to rhythms of foothills, expressive of feisty ballet,
As incessant downpour pelts, dispersing sweltering heat,
Dancing on prairies and rivers, resounding a boisterous beat.
Down the mountain, over plush valley, beyond an arid knoll,
Breezing with the fleeting storm, reinvigorated vistas scroll,
Scintillating in beams of gold, twilight soon brings to fore,
Adorning arc amethystine, where dream-scapes violet soar.
Enlightened in scarlet rays, as grimace of humid malaise decays,
Revealing a glint, avid day, piercing through tenebrous daze,
Misery retreats rapidly, withering anguish of a vanishing day,
Engraving motifs crimson, upon tapestries once mired in gray.
Reveling in unfolding scene, gawking eve’s resplendent tempo,
From the street, through windows, fixating on the skylit show;
Eyes enamored now applaud~ orange, indigo, smile of rainbow,
Peeking through blazing halo, flaunting art of evenfall aglow.
Categories:
pelts, rain, summer,
Form:
Rhyme
The cold night air wraps around my shoulders like a moth-eaten shawl.
A rasping rain pelts the bitter sidewalk below.
Visions of what once was flash in and out of the headlights passing by.
How did it all go so wrong, as lovers become nothing more than mere strangers?
Your heart has grown so hardened to my pleading touch.
Ghosts we have become, passing through each other in our home that has slowly become our tomb.
Words have become a foreign language to each other's ears.
How did this divide go from small fractures to seismic shifts?
We loved each other so, now we lay next to each other like phantoms.
How do we bring back the light within our souls,
Before we slip through the cracks of this cold, lonely cityscape?
Shivers run up my spine as it's getting close to 2 a.m. now.
I stick my hands in my weeping pockets and jingle my freezing keys,
Look at the blank screen of my phone, waiting for you to call—but you never do anymore.
I guess it's time to start walking home; you'll be long in bed.
I try to tell myself we can find our love again, I just know it, if we try hard enough.
Walk up to the rain-soaked building, enter with silent tears in my eyes.
Put down my keys, take off my coat, and crawl into bed,
Hoping that when the first rays of sun peek through the blinds of the windows,
The space between us will slowly evaporate like dewdrops on a flower petal.
Categories:
pelts, heartbreak, heartbroken, imagery, loneliness,
Form:
Free verse
fo'c·'sle /'fohksel/ noun deriv: forecastle
1. the forward part of a ship below the deck, traditionally used as the crew's living quarters.
2. historical: a raised deck at the front of a ship.
With the equinox illuminating a fortnight of recovery
On pelts spread like Ionian jars left askew,
My flame-keep sparked alight against the doldrums of
Greed. Stagnant and fetid.
My bark beats out a call stretched
Skin-tight over the sea’s virgin core
And sets trust aflame.
Ashes collected into the collated casks and
Corked with animus, Moon Girl pounded on.
Drumming a dirge on the tanner's own flesh.
Pounding the seed of echoing hope.
Pounding the corpus beat of life anew.
Those echoed my own harmony and emptied my ears.
My tunes would now be true and crisp.
My struggle to syncopate the middle eight
Was like on the saltchuck the time before.
Before we crossed the bar,
Breakers chasing, pounding aft of stern.
Now in the glow of the coal oil lamp
Sat The Dane who came to trade.
He mumbled a Chinookian curse and winced.
He sensed my mariner's cred, how I lit my smoke;
Muscle memory and addiction married in my subconscious.
But His eyes would never sense the venomous flow
Of the seabreak distant,
Like hounds baying to the highway of stars
And up to the dunes ran with phosphorescent faces
Fermenting the blackness.
Hell-hounds bounding.
Lungs pounding.
Driving on.
River may lick Disappointment’s shanks
But Drake’s gold remains unfound.
The cavities carved along the capes
Echo an emptied ethos and sapped spirit
Which salal and sage cannot clense.
Walk with me now Sister Ilchee.
Beat your dirge
Along the pock-marked ports of plunder
Laid before the flattened corpse of
Ebbing freedom found.
Categories:
pelts, boat, endurance, history, native
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
My Shoe Collection
Shoes
Nice if you have them
Shoes
There is love
There is happiness
When the next path of your journey
You take with shoes on your feet
Shoes
I am coming out of the closet
I am not a woman
But I do have too many shoes
Shoes
Love and relationships
Why there are a lot like a pair of shoes
At times, things may stink and smell
Yet still better as a pair
Shoes
If I could walk a mile
In everyman’s shoes
I could walk forever
Never having to buy my own
Red Shoes
The Red Socks
Will never win
Without good running shoes
Blue Shoes
If only I had blue shoes
Of suede
Id be dancing with you
After the autographs
Shoes
Homeless people wish for shoes
Millionaires wish for closets
Big Shoes
My feet are so big
Ladies buy me my shoes
Shoe Sale
The man with one leg
Looks for shoe sales
At half off
The Hookers Shoes
A good hooker
Never has used shoes
Academy a Wards
Winners and losers
All complain about their shoes
Petty and jealous, the famously inane
Their shoes show their vain
Shoe Diversity
They come in many fashions
In shoes there is humanities design
We all walk the path of human strife
All Shoes matter
Celtic Shoes
Irish Shoes
Scottish shoes
Welsh shoes
All meet at the pub
So their feet can have a rest
While the mouths imbibe with chatter
If all goes well
Later on
The shoes fall off in a clatter
Miami Vice
Got the finest shoes from Miami
Found out they were fakes
Tongues were bent and crooked
Must have come from crocodile skinned tears
Mocking the homeless with no shoes over the years
The Great Canadian Shoe Trapper
The trapper goes for beaver pelts
The millionaire goes for shoes of felt
Armani makes it all the way
Only when the consumer comes out to play
The Shoeless Argentine
If you wish to invade the Falkland’s
Remember to bring your shoes
Cause your dictator has all your money
He cares not if you really lose
Categories:
pelts, hilarious, imagination, irony, journey,
Form:
Free verse
My Cloud white and five-point stars
join royal blue and strips of red,
stitched into a familiar pattern,
folded and temporarily put to bed.
The first time up the pole, crisp
edges flap and crack in the breeze.
Frosty air and rain pelts my sides
as I stiffen with winter freeze.
The sun burns through bones
and fades my vibrant hues
while wind-force snaps me about
to give me tattered shoes.
Until the last sigh, I give all
who view my face, bluff with hope,
a rousing sound of freedom's ring
before the slackening of the rope.
Categories:
pelts, allegory, america, patriotic,
Form:
Quatrain
(A Vondelet Sonnet Variation)
When clouds roll dark, the skies pour rain on rain,
as angels whisper crimson, blue and green
to bring a Spring of promise, wild with gain,
while sister states hold down a strong desire
for smell of raindrop pelts on dry terrain;
our windshield wipers sing a break-dance song
cocooned within a vacuum too arcane
when clouds roll dark, the skies pour rain on rain.
Yet now we join our neighbors’ glum refrain
to pray for moisture measured to prolong;
our plants show wilted heads bent down in pain
while air, intense with heat, forecasts a fire.
As angels whisper crimson, blue and green,
the earth greens up as winter hides again,
when clouds roll dark, the skies pour rain on rain.
Categories:
pelts, earth, prayer, rain,
Form:
Sonnet
Here, as the dark city glistens
Here, as the dark city glistens,
rain pelts unsuspecting sidewalks,
filling cracks and running gutters
Disguising stoic potholes in black,
snickering as they wait silently
to startle the next drowsy driver to pass by
Neon reflects in puddles of discontent
while high rise lights
flicker in kitchens above where
cold water seems to be the answer
as groggy eyes fiddle with leftover decisions
making more noise than can be heard
3 am, desolate, just a few cats
rummage in alleys for unsuspecting rats
and other rodents who have sold their dreams
for a temporary high, plastic bag desires
that come morning will seek its revenge
and hands will be out promising redemption,
counting brown leather wing tips and Prada heels
I stop at the old library slated for demolition,
tracing the lopsided heart with our initials
I carved into the brick
as you kept a look out so we wouldn’t get caught
Laughing at the dust that gathered on my shoes,
Telling me it would be forever
not the dust, us, we weren’t
Lonely is a state of mind
for those who wander these concrete caverns,
unable to sleep
Finding opened eyed nightmares
resemble those that they now run from,
hoping the next corner holds the key
to the past when nights were spent
under warm covers, in soft arms,
not walking alone, not dying, not
here, as the dark city glistens
Categories:
pelts, loneliness, sad,
Form:
Free verse
Under Tall Midnight Oaks, Darkness Awaits
Under tall midnight oaks, darkness awaits
in shadows hiding from gleaming moonbeams.
No reprieve save that of graces of Fates,
man can not conquer such darkness with schemes.
Nature's force so often bent to its will
living forests can not be held to blame.
Those screeching echoes, send a blasting chill
make no mistake, evil is not a game.
When morn's sun forces blackness in retreat
man forgets chilling nightmares dark rain pelts
For its nighttime the monster comes to eat
chew your skin and spirit until it melts.
Dawn's gleam wipes away midnight's racing fears.
Should man pray and cry with remorse and tears?
Robert J. Lindley, 5-08-2016
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 105
Categories:
pelts, allusion, art, dark, deep,
Form:
Sonnet
The winter wind cuts through my bones
I pull my coat tighter 'round me
Snow pelts hard against me like stones
I'm lost in the snow around me
The winter wind howls wretchedly
Oh, how do I endure this storm?
Oh, I need someone to save me!
I'm lost in the snow of this storm
The winter wind pierces my heart
I scream in pain and clutched my chest
Snow hit hard against me like darts
I'm lost in the snow of unrest
Am I all alone in this storm?
Is there no one to rescue me?
But hope is starting to take form
I'm lost in the snow of mercy
Why should I fear the howling wind?
My Saviour tells them to be still
I know I'm wretched; I have sinned!
But my heart, with mercy, He fills
My Saviour's blood washes my sin
Until they are as white as snow
Through Christ, I'm glorious from within
His mercy like a river flows
The winter wind still cuts me deep
But Christ is my Shelter and Shield
Though darkness, around my head, creeps
In His hands, my faint heart, I yield
Categories:
pelts, angst, christian, god, jesus,
Form:
Rhyme
When the snout of lush abundance is full and flowing,
when all prey and creature-kind spill upon the verdant swards,
then it is that I worry night and day,
for the stoat, fox and hawk are at work,
they scythe in the whelm and nimiety, they hack and harrow.
The kits and chuckling’s are many, the light too bright;
for then the foragers forgoing fright, are palpable and open.
The long-eared nibblers, hairs on scattered rodents laid bare,
they scutter, skitter and twitch much in the open
greatly prone to be pounced upon;
their paltry pelts all unhidden, and being many,
and not running, they are huddled; yet not strong.
If this slew not ease, if the grabbers not falter,
if the singled-out dither, the glut not wither,
then the green snake will climb to where nestlings hutch -
they all so easily plucked and quickly snatched.
I worry for the wee brown birds; mottled shells still unhatched.
I fear a winnowing, withal a harsh hazard of gorge and sate.
I fret for the freshly delivered, the teeming,
the newly produced, all the bounding bounty
for those too easily found and so, arrived too late.
Categories:
pelts, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Claws step over ear bones,
tap on the tin roof. The cabin
creaks like an ark.
All day winding along
a Kentucky ridge line,
to lodge a night
in a bow-beamed shack.
I fry bacon and bread
on a smoke-licked skillet
as black as a fossil;
then settle down to listen
to April starlight
sweeping timbers.
Dark pelts pace moon trails.
Night birds hunt;
sloe washed wings flick shadows
through briery pines.
I sip an amber glass of bourbon
eavesdrop,
on my sleep-walking soul.
Categories:
pelts, poetry,
Form:
Blank verse
cumulonimbus clouds gather
over the far reaches of the sky
rain pelts down in needles of silver
earth is tickled by the pin pricks
dormant dreams resurrect
blossoming every heart and the land
October.21.2022
Bite size Poem.No.54. Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Line Gauthier
Categories:
pelts, earth, flower, rain,
Form:
Verse
When Summer is gone along with substantial flowers,
a lingering memory, I wonder “were you here at all?”
It will only be, in each new Spring reviving,
that the iris near the tear duct blooms.
When Summer is gone and leaves float downstream
blains renew with a chill in the air,
and the maples and oaks lose
their grief stricken hues.
When Summer is gone, that means Spring too,
then Fall is the midpoint so far from you,
as the years yield their acorn pelts
I pumpkin-kiss and miss you.
When Summer is gone and the “I love you,” is silent,
in the deep drifts of the Winter white blanket,
still I hear your motherly voice in the wind,
emphatically reap your snowdrop smile.
Categories:
pelts, grief, seasons,
Form:
Elegy
JAKE THE RAKE
Jake the rake was a stud among the local crowd
and very much enamored with what he was endowed.
He would strut he stuff around and play the macho role
boasting of the many pelts hung on his lodging pole.
All the lesser Romeo's could only shake their heads
and marvel as Jake whisked another woman off to bed.
Some would look at him with total envy in their eyes
as Jake walked out the door with his nightly prize.
One time Jake was at a party, with Cat his steady squeeze
and left with another bird who fired up his bees.
When Cat returned the favor it took him down so hard
he turned into a sobbing wretch with his emotions charred.
In the nature of these two was the cruel intent
to utilize sex as a means of punishment.
Pleasure's a sensation that can cause a lot of pain
if it's wantonly abused and not morally restrained.
In time the two got married and that made sense to me
they took each other prisoner to vows of endless misery.
The crowd finally broke up, we went our separate ways
but I chanced to wind in the old stomping grounds one day.
I walked into a party and both of them were there
she had him on a leash and was scowling in a chair.
He was laying at her feet with a frightened stare
rolled over on his back with his leg up in the air
Categories:
pelts, parody,
Form:
Couplet