Best Percolated Poems
When sleep deserted me
I crawled out of my bed unseen
To delve into the crevices of the dark
With the curiosity of an explorer
And the near comatose of a somnambulist
I walked up and down the steep slopes of the night
Like a night watchman
Without a lantern in hand.
When my legs grew weary
I sat on a rock
Covered with moss and lichen
Staring into the dark night sky
With no constellation of fireflies
Flashing their torches anywhere
Sitting there, in that bewitching night,
I listened to the song of night birds,
The rustle of leaves,
The howl of wolves,
And the night wind’s rave.
Looking into the dark pockets of the night,
I thought of human mind, a deep gorge
With many an uninhabitable corner
Where serpent desires lie coiled,
Scorpions crawl with toxic pincers
And predators roam to prey upon helpless victims.
The mystery of the night absorbed me,
Her muffled sounds, her dark beauty
And her elusive charm, like thick night fog,
Percolated deep into my consciousness,
And I floundered in a fathomless sea,
Swirling in her eddies and currents.
It whisked me away to lands far…far!
But on being washed ashore,
I was in a creative delirium.
I am now in No Man’s Land,
Where everything is in a coma of stillness,
Where no light glimmers,
No door ajar
And no one in sight!
Here the poet in me breaks open,
The somnambulistic comatose,
And down way flow my thoughts in indelible ink
Which only I can read.
Like a night bird,
Roosting among the branches of a tree,
I sing of my heart aches,
Of my yearnings and longings.
In the barely audible whispers of the night,
My song reverberates in the eyeless abyss down,
And in the dark desolate valleys below.
People say, ghosts walk the earth at night.
Oh! I am not scared!
I am not eager for the dawn to break,
Nor want to put my pen down!
The
house was full
of yesterdays-
books
that filled
wet Wednesdays
cross-stitch
hours upon the wall
eclectic
art,glass,pottery
collected,moments
sentiments
priceless,unique
irreplaceable-
a smell of love
percolated
into offspring
memories
drifting
to timeless
tomorrows
early morn' espresso sanity
more than clouds in my caffè,
musings' sugared cuppa fancy
atop frothy dreamt wanderlust
& places to visit, people to read,
percolating poetic joie de vivre
Every morning at close to four
She made the coffee, percolated
Poured it into cups with saucers
And they each would have a cup
Pouring the potent black liquid
Into the saucers before drinking
The cooling solution from them
This was only one more glimpse
Into the heart of Appalachian living
A day by day extravaganza of insights
Carried down from the Irish ancestors
Who’d come to this land in America
Realizing it reminded them of the
Wonders that were once their Ireland
As the coffee moved from the percolator
To a Mr. Coffee that sat on the sink
The children began to drink from their cups
But Granny and Pa still used their saucers
A reminder of all that had come before
And the things that were past that would
Forever remain ingrained in their hearts
The flowers of love
That you gave to me
Have blossomed, have blossomed
And under the flaming sky
And in the impalpable sunlight
Pieces of me
Percolated from far edges of the universe
And together merged into love.
For when I say
That I love
The meaning is this:
That my heart is fire.
That my mouth is parched.
That my hands are full of bruises.
That my eyes burn holes in the walls.
Love me.
Love me like cloud loves lightning
Love me like tenderness loves intensity
Love me like galaxy loves the quasar
Love me like orchid loves rain.
Feel my fire
Running through you
Feel my fire
Without end or beginning
Feel my fire
As I burn for you
Feel my fire
Feel my fire.
We can't be together
But I burn for you
You love me from afar
But I burn for you
There are miles between us
But I burn for you
But I burn for you day and night.
The flowers of love
Can be seen
Sometimes in meadows
Sometimes in vases
And sometimes near people's gravestones
And sometimes someone would water them
Hoping to keep them around for a while.
So do not mind me
No, do not mind me
As I water
The flowers
Of love
That you gave to me
With something extraordinary
With something red and viscous
With something that carries nutrients
With the very blood
Of
My
Heart.
The alarm hits me over the head like a rock
Extra scoop of exhaustion, work-related
Timer says it’s Cranky-Past-Grump O’clock
But fear not, the remedy has percolated
The mind is so thick, chunky, and addled
My thoughts are completely jumbled
The dim world seems so utterly scrambled
Not quite sure what the mouth just mumbled
The glass carafe is impatiently steaming
Very soon there will be no more drooping
In a relative way, I’ll be quite beaming
And shortly thereafter, I know I’ll be…whooping
The heart pumps with the steaming mug
For so many ailments it fills the need
Mind verily hopping on this legal drug
Not sure why anyone bothers with speed
Then a brief time later, the predictable scare
To the throne room, I take hasty flight
Slamming the door to avoid the brown bear
With comforting knowledge I’ll re-emerge light
O! Coffee! Your pleasures not limited to the palate
Nor the great, salutary jolt to the mind
That gentle whack on the head with a mallet
And the large intestine not far behind
While I thrive on that mental clarity,
Look forward to that sublime daily lift
It’s that reassuring sense of regularity
That is the hallowed bean’s greatest gift!
4/11/16
“The Monk Windows, Ravens, Angels and Embryos Forming”
Dawn arrives
in the black and white
misunderstood in the abstract
you can see the
embryos of thought forming
always inside us
the children
white angel wings
cover sleeping pages
where raven wings
spread like evensong
in storm clouds cutting
through the dissolving glass
lighter things
are never as they appear
like windows forming
where black monks stand
commanding their understanding
and the ghosts of the future
call the fallen years back in
holding court
staring back with their
vacant hollow faces
waiting for some repetitive
tiring confession from
the yawning windows
before their irreverent blessing
you listen for the sound
that follows the lightening
but all you hear is
the loud beating
of your heart
falling through
the soul’s hourglass
it’s over-percolated dripping
lighter things
are never as they appear
like windows forming
where black monks stand
commanding their understanding
Dawn arrives
in the black and white
misunderstood in the abstract
you can see the
embryos of thought forming
always inside us
the children
the message
sealed for breaking
through the glass house
and its never-ending ceilings
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
gvlm
“Window” / HVOB
https://youtu.be/rDNGrBY512w
As I watched some bread fruits fall,
I thought of friends answering heaven's call:
Like flowering plants were the youth and rigidity-
Of these gems full with virility.
But in the sudden wake of a season
Appeared the ghoul to lead one into death's prison.
I bemoan the day of such sad news
That sealed the mouth and tied the tongue of my muse,
Blinding all senses without no reason
With percolated thoughts of the past and near seasons
Stirring the head with the winds of memorable years
Most, I will forever remember with falling tears.
Forlorn dreams, faded with the dark clouds
Before the thundering grew so loud
A cold easterly already spreads her wings
Whistling sober tunes as she flies and sings
A valedictory song to all
Within gaze, as bread fruits fall.
The square-cut bars of patchoulie soap
scented--musky, earthy, sensual--
carefully placed on shelves
and in bureau drawers--
a constant reminder
of long-gone days,
Like the fresh smell of newly baked bread
wafting from grandma’s oven,
mingling with the sultry scent
of fresh-percolated coffee--
a constant reminder
of bye-gone ways.
Pervasive presence of lavender perfume
when I hugged my grandma tight,
snuggling next to her bosom
filling my nostrils with love--
a constant reminder
of old-fashioned sprays.
Another unidentified scent comes to me
from time to time, unexpected,
in meditation, repeats itself
in my dreams of Hawaii--
a constant reminder
of lovely floral leis.
SECOND PLACE WINNER
Written March 15, 2021
for "Favorite Scent(s) Contest"
sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke''
PUBLISHER'S FRONT PAGE PICK
All-Poetry, October 30, 2021
Her emotions percolated, hot and unsettled
until she exploded, shattering reality.
Loud, angry words punctured our hearts
as she lashed out at everyone and no one.
Her eyes darted, a mixture of hurt
accusation and confusion.
Disjointed words, rambling thoughts
paranoia, all flung and strung
hovering in the air.
We groped in vain for a soothing balm
to comfort her fractured mind.
A broken vessel takes time to mend
but it is never quite the same.
Cluttered herself with salt;
Rather obscuring herself, she settled downwards;
The sandy surface has made her vulnerable;
Clasping the inner core tightly, she reluctantly raised her fallen guards;
The heart silently percolated to its bedrock;
She was afraid of sedimentation.
Suddenly the cracks paved the way to her weathered soul;
For her it was love at first sight!
Beginning of a pure, beautiful love affair;
She was mesmerized by those sparkling eyes!
She inched closer with the ever increasing sound of her pounding heartbeat;
Nothing! Nothing!
Betrayal!
Fluttering her sand-dunned eyelashes;
The mirage was in its full glory;
She retracted in her footsteps, recoiled her flattered heart;
She was deserted again with her guards steeper than before.
Behind the barricade of books and papers,
In the earthy rise of espresso grinding,
Misty jets and the steaming milk,
Lavish scents and aromas black and silk;
Until the senses swim in their filters,
Percolated with velveteen sound and vision,
The caffeine palpitates from sip to vein,
Condensation accrues on the stencilled pane.
Across the babble and bubble of prose
Quoted and blown like froth from the cups,
Tinkling silverware, china rapping,
Rose red nails upon cedar-wood, tapping.
When the smile breaks from a private jest,
Or something her cellphone lover said,
Like the sun coming out in a rain-forest mist
Lips of a goddess that beg to be kissed;
I feel like a trespasser, a casual voyeur,
Yet my gaze cannot leave her Brazillian eyes,
Americano heat flares in my heart suddenly,
And I wish, how I wish, she were smiling for me.
There’s an important meeting
on the upcoming shark calendar itinerary
A prospectus offer from a suitor company
demands an improper greeting
The boss lady wanna know
who’s gonna lead the negotiating envoy
Carry the corporate banner
for this back channel acquisition ploy
But remember,
this is a clandestine, off-the-books deal
Secret illegal, so keep your lips sealed
Tell the boss barracuda,
I reached down
to the bottom of the company food chain
And found the right chocolate patsy:
a real clueless, coconut office toy
Lick your fingers, boss lady,
‘cause he’s the yummy dummy almond joy
Without further ado, I present to you
the perfect scapegoat: code name, Gilly Roy
A gullible, low managerial level coffee boy
His stockroom qualifications
makes him the ideal inside trader regulator decoy
Get the shady deal done
without ever dirtying your hands
Have a human wet wipe
erase any evidence of this covert plan
No need to be shy,
no need to act coy
Send the rival Columbians
our very own coffee boy
It’s so Monopoly Machiavellian,
a deep-roasted Boardwalk blend
Send the coffee boy in ... it’s a win, win
If we get caught,
let the coffee boy take the percolated fall
As he drip, drip ... drip
decaffinated details, of which he really don’t know
much of anything at all
We do the poison pill hostile takeover swallow,
then deny any trace of a paper trail that might show
Boss, I betcha pure Peruvian sugar, three lumps to two,
when the Feds come calling ...
coffee boy is gonna squirt Ecuadoran tears in his brew
I looked to the star studded sheet sky above,
Gazing with admiration I whispered “thank you”,
Gifted with everything that made me complete,
I felt like a shooting star – shining bright in awe beauty.
With entwined fingers locked with his I gently squeezed,
Re-assuring myself that I for once was not day dreaming.
With a jolt of his arm he twisted our bodies to face one another,
He pulled me comparatively to feel his warmth,
With a palpate of his fingertips he tilted my head to his,
Breathing in one another with parted and just licked lips,
Locked eyes infused an addicted draw of that single moment.
Lead to the centre of a destination path I percolated,
Fear boiled in my sickened concerned heart,
The nauseas vibration through unknown anticipated heart ache,
Heart ache that would obliterate everything,
Or heart ache that would lock impudently our created moments.
Our entwined fingers still lay infused,
His eyes fixated with such intense admiration,
This memory before me will forever ache my heart,
With impassioned devotion I was being seen,
Mesmerising love poured from his focus.
With a heavy intake of the particle moments around us he began,
With each memorial second he diffused me,
Melting my soul
So long I had abided this moment,
Forever it now lived ingrained in my fated journey,
That fatal Friday 13th
re-post inspired by contest theme
The
house was full
of yesterdays-
books
that filled
wet Wednesdays
cross-stitch
hours upon the wall
eclectic
art,glass,pottery
collected,
moments
sentiments
priceless,unique
irreplaceable-
a smell of love
percolated
into offspring
memories
drifting
to timeless
tomorrows