Best Permeates Poems
I’m driftwood, and I’m floating out to sea
as sun descends upon my home - the grove
of trees whose fragrance still remains with me.
And likewise, heaven’s work of art, a mauve
surrounding me, now permeates my soul.
Warm water, in the twilight growing cold,
is rocking me. Beneath dark blue, a shoal
moves swiftly; overhead there will unfold
the myriad of stars in semblance of
a giant carousel in dimming sky.
Those stars that glitter for the grove I love
will glitter too for me, where here I lie
alone, enraptured. . . and I think I might
drift evermore, enveloped by this night.
Her smiles of valor encase her agony--
her fiery scars pound against her sanity
struggling in twisted ropes of silent screams.
A wounded Athena, she is a woman in chains
staring at her shattered reflections.
Her shades of red, they haven't seen--
tender shrieks buried under forced arms,
blurred visions of screaming tyranny.
A trampled magnolia, she is a woman in chains
rotting in her Carmen of morose ember.
Oh woman! You embrace scars with dignity,
ethereal flow of progeny in your hands,
your banished desires in shriveled ages
survive in spiral cobwebs of festered veins.
Her miserable existence in labyrinths--
she simmers courage in dried paranoia,
a streak of red blood, no longer she'd fear.
A goddess flickering amber lamps of hope
her essence flows through mankind.
Oh woman! Feel the celestial powers
preserved in your gracious bosom,
your afflicted pain nurtures patience
strong enough to bend heavenly tides.
A wounded Athena, a trampled magnolia
A rotting Carmen, a goddess she is..
The woman in chains pours forgiveness
filling oceans from azure exuberance,
her selfless heart of mellowed love
permeates Satan's abode with virtue.
The woman in chains wears sacrifice,
her gossamer veil embraces men's follies,
she carries the elixir of compassion,
ripples of hopes for scarred souls.
Oh woman! They oppress you in madness,
to your sanctity they bow in agitation,
the woman they know, the goddess they don't,
until you dust your timeless wings to fly again.
Kiss me passionately
Kiss with untetherd lips
Lips that are ripe
Lips that long to know everything
Everything waits for it's time
Everything has possibilities
Possibilities beyond limitations
Possibilities are laying in wait
Wait for me to come to you
Wait for my inexperienced touch
Touch me till you feel my longing
Touch the depth of your own wanting
Wanting and needing
Wanting that hurts
Hurts with a burning pleasure
Hurts with an ancient desire
Desire beyond our understanding
Desire that will not be contained
Contained you have been forced to be
Contained within your fathers image of innocence
Innocence must lead to mutual pleasure
Innocence is the doorway to your awakening
Awakening your true essence
Awakening the power of your being
Being more
Being a true force of your own nature
Nature and nurture
Nature will give way to trancendence
Trancendence to womanhood
Trancendence to your power
Power resides within your spirit
Power caresses your being
Being free to explore
Being aware of the moments
Moments that you will cherish
Moments shared with me
Me who wishes to know you
Me who has waited
Waited for you to be ready
Waited for our wedding day
Day after day imagining
Day and night you are part of my dreams
Dreams do come true
Dreams offer hope
Hope permeates our being
Hope that we will have forever
Forever can be felt in a moment
Forever pulses within your veins
Veins that carry the blood of our children
Moment by moment witness our becoming
For Justin Bordner's innocence contest.
Aromatic sweet fragrance permeates our air
In eminence of your fragile Jasmine flowers
As lovingly you engage slender ruby buds
Tending to green foliage in softest of whispers
In verses of your heart, meant for me to hear;
Guiding my sight higher to mysterious universe
As glowing night-sky unveils celestial theater
Where twinkling exuberant stars brilliantly glitter
Arousing amorous stares breathing in unison
Standing cheek to cheek, conversing with Venus;
Extolling seductively passionate secret dreams
Unfolding revelry in doting pregnant themes
Welcoming salutations--yearning for much more
Exhilarated by amour of dulcet solicitations
Deciphering inference of romantic metaphors;
Embracing each other in zealous anticipation--
Sensuous thoughts drifting into night's allure
Enticed by lure of every flirtatious rhythmic pulse
Eager to explore melodies of moonlit affections
As mating song of nightingale serenades our love.
August 8, 2019
Poem of the day on August 10, 2019
Placed 1st: Strand choice T contest by Brian Strand
Placed 3rd: One in four poetry contest by Joseph May
Gardens at Keukenhoff (Alouette)
As the tulips rise
With their sweet surprise
Fragrance permeates the air
Colors cover land
From God's divine hand
In these gardens we all share.
Such astounding views
Come enjoy the hues
As varied blossoms cascade.
Seek a bench to gaze
At the mirror maze
With lush tulips on parade.
2-19-19
Gardens Poetry Contest~Premiere Fourth Place~
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke
The Alouette, created by Jan Turner, consists of two or more stanzas of 6 lines each, with the following set rules:
Meter: 5, 5, 7, 5, 5, 7
Rhyme Scheme: a, a, b, c, c, b
The form name is a French word meaning 'skylark' or larks that fly high, the association to the lark's song being appropriate for the musical quality of this form. The word 'Alouette' can also mean a children's song (usually sung in a group), and although this poetry form is not necessarily for children's poetry (but can be applied that way), it is reminiscent of that style of short lines. Preference for the meter accent is on the third syllable of each line
I can see a sunny day
The air is crisp and clear and warm
It permeates my skin
Infusing every single pore
with lavender of light
Every wing of every bird
glides in feathered harmony
Every flower beckons
and honey glistens every hive
as busy bee’s parade
It’s not just in my memory
this day of golden shine
Through silver beaded drops of rain
and clouds of shadowed fate
I see it up ahead
I feel that sunny day
and with its keen embrace
I’ll hold onto its ever present kiss
To not look back and not regret
and linger in the dawn
A smell permeates through the house
I’m convinced it must be house mouse
I hunt high and then I hunt low
But the source of the smell it won’t show
I get down on my hands and my knees
The dirt and the dust make me sneeze
The pungent smell makes me feel sick
Burn scented candles right down to the wick
Now I have a sad look on my face
The origin of the smell I can’t trace
Get some cheese and lay it on a trap
Wait for the jaws of the trap to go snap
But the cheese remains where its put
The jaws of the trap don’t snap shut
Found hidden in the huge laundry box
An old pair of my Pa's cheesy socks!
Smelly socks are confined to the bin
Now I can say to my guests 'do come in'!
13th January 2015
Fictional write for Humor Contest!!!
Sponsor Carol Eastman
~awarded 1st place~
A Little Piece of Paradise
An Eden-like orangery, her secret place for refreshing reverie,
a haven, from an abusive marriage, where her body and mind are free.
Away from a domineering, intrusive household,
her own favorite hideaway – a refuge from her unhappy world.
Here she is serene enjoying peace and blessed tranquility,
nestled in the nurturing bosom of this fertile orangery.
Contentedly she inhales the sweet fragrance of orange trees in bloom,
that permeates to every corner of this sunlit, warm welcoming room.
An enticing delight, time spent alone here is her singular vice,
as she lingers in the safety of this little piece of paradise.
Re-reading familiar poetic verses from a well-worn book,
she experiences sheer bliss sitting in this hospitable nook.
What joy communing with riveting Romantic poets,
like beloved Brontë, Browning, Rossetti, and Eliot.
Reveling in her sacred solitude, she relishes their consoling company,
amid thriving exotic orchids and other delicate tropical greenery.
Nothing compares to the immeasurable pleasure she derives,
from this brief respite with which her spirit renews and revives.
Before returning to a hard-hearted husband who is as cold as ice,
she clings a while longer to this precious piece of paradise.
07-18-2014
Contest: A Poem in Paradise
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Placement: 2nd
'Tis a Dicken's prayer to arouse
Tired masses from their slumber
With an expectation born of trust
Leaving all in righteous wonder.
Hope travels light... a treasured friend.
It clears the morning air.
Hope brings forth the restless lion
We know is waiting there.
No regulation or coinage to
Pervert its shape or size.
No earthly way to strike it down
Or give relevance to its demise.
A shield against the coming storm
When the winds of chaos blow.
Hope creeps upon both fair and foul
As it permeates their soul.
The bedrock of a Christmas wish
With a courage born of reason.
Fluttering the hearts of young and old
As in keeping with the season.
So make merry with friends and family
Knowing our future remains unclear.
But with hope just around the corner...
We may yet survive another year.
The End
Out of hell’s breath the Devil’s Coachman comes and turns
around the tale to woe twists as the world creeps backwards
underneath the clay slithering sacrificial savagery begins
Ghastly ghostly spectres watch on with soulless glee
under laid this icy moon the toxic evil venom spews
within hideous precision it claw’s innocent victims prey
Fiercely gnashing jaws instinctively in this fiendish predator of night shades
dark striking off balance this stead of hell delivers his deadliest of blows
disturbingly the pungent smell permeates this surrounding sphere
Paralyzing unwary sufferers arching like a scorpion ready to strike
acrimony spreads stealthily through the shadowy invasion within the beast’s bite
suffering of hades destructive force inflicts a prelude to the apparitions
Awakening within this lair of madness an unsuspecting sacrifice
blinding under tombstones creeping slowly chill’s out
through one veil of darkened soil a nocturnal predator comes to feed
Liquefying resistant victim within the glaze of ebony eyes
mystic powers claiming to be magic crushing the core of Eve’s apple
emerging covered with its sclerotized plates the Coachman devours
Repast of putrid skin the last victim lies rotten
one captured soul sinks into the river of Acheron
final reward for the unwitting wounded prey
Begins eternal downward descent
drawn up and treasured by this hungry decedent of a Rove
carried away into hidden hollows of the dead roaring
Fiercely jealous of it’s captive trophy
sector’s remain vigilant to guard such treasured stored
this Coachman’s rightly domain claims a legion to an underworld
The deepest and darkest secrets expelled unrighteous
this scarabaeus reaper as black inside with a rapier blade and sickle
condemned are the two faced between thee jaws of this deadly fiend locked on
A co-written piece by Liam Mcdaid & Donna Loughman
In my grandpa’s field I stand midst rows of grain
whose gray-green blades stir softly in the moaning wind.
A night chill permeates my skin.
I look down at my arms and legs and realize
I’m a little girl again!
How did I get here? Why am I now standing here in the dark of night?
Far ahead of me, I see the old worn farmhouse.
Moon, big and golden, seems to have left the sky.
It’s reappeared at the window of my grandparent’s old house,
where it glows with a mesmerizing light eerily beckoning me.
I stand transfixed, not knowing what to do.
Is this a dream? It has to be!
Grandma sold that house when grandpa died.
I’d seen it one more time remodeled and repainted
and with another owner’s name.
The house I’m seeing now is the old one from my childhood.
Many things from long ago are coming to my mind:
The fields where my sisters and I frolicked in the summers;
the long dirt lane we skipped happily along;
the berry bushes along many pathways we discovered;
the hollyhocks we learned how to make cute dollies from.
It was daylight when I knew the farm back then. Sun was high in the sky.
Now I’m only seeing the eerie glow emanating from grandpa’s house. . .
I awaken to the darkness of a winter morning’s gloom,
vaguely remembering a vanished moon
which turned up on the face of my grandparents’ old farmhouse
as if to beckon me back to my childhood.
But somehow I knew (even while asleep)
that to near that house and then to go inside it
would not be the stuff of happy dreams.
There was a reason for the coldness of the night, the moaning of the wind.
The summer days have fled. Between the nightmare and the dream,
subconsciously I knew
you simply cannot go home again.
As we traverse in happiness of euphoric thoughts
Exuberance of sunrise permeates our avid hearts
Holding hands of leisure on hushed idyllic grounds,
Where pink lotus-blooms lift-up in pristine pond
Floating stilled moments in beauty of white swans,
Embracing day’s serenity awakening in birdsongs.
Upon the ruby roses, spring’s cheery winds blow
As new dawn enlightens in morning’s soft glow
When in your loving touch my riant smile unfolds,
Ambling with you in hues of tranquil meadows
As sanguine skies sprinkle magenta on vibrant arc
And golden sun penetrates veil of retreating fog.
Quietude reigns gardens in stance of the monarchs
Rhapsodic in abundance of the blossoming floras
Feasting on nectar in orange-black camouflage.
As minutes tick slowly, slowing down the clock,
Elysian peacefulness of this relaxed blessed day
Lingers in caressing breeze, reveling ecstatic state.
Carefree we arrive on the banks of cerulean bay
Gazing ebullient tides frolicking on blue surface,
Letting kiss of romance rejoice in the dreamy place.
Reluctant to let us part, the verdant fields hesitate
Realizing this is where exultant journey culminates
As elated souls memorialize our utopian daybreak.
February 25, 2020
Placed 2nd: Pick-A-Title, Vol 14 – Tristich Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh; Title chosen: Ataraxis
Placed 3rd: Strand choice G contest by Brian Strand
Knowledge gained liberates or mutilates.
Ramifications of reality’s realm reached
make your insides want to abandon the body ship.
Rocking back and forth as you hurl dry acidic pain
expelled by the force of shell shocked lucidity:
You’re not good enough to be loved.
Breathing in is treason.
Your heart demands release of life’s lease.
On the kitchen floor
crumpled dreams drag to prostrate form.
Alone…..
Every reason to stay is obliterated.
Ascorbic failures scream.
Heart blood transforms to salty rivulets.
Self-loathing usurps the throne of belief.
"Appeasement sacrifice,” it sagely suggests…
"Your life!"
Relevant Reasoning...
For someone for whom love is cell oxygen
grey matter food
supreme soul sustenance,
life without full bodied Love is death.
Might as well...
Cowardice cackles and goads….
The cut isn’t deep enough.
Red streaked line mockery of mental hell feels
abhorrence breathing between the sobs
that one hears …
No one hears
Troubled mind has drained desirability’s delight.
Not strong enough to live not strong enough to die,
you are spent…
negligence purged.
Silence begs to benumb,
yet a reminder remains.
The thorn of truth finds a home.
Embedded in my side,
it won’t be denied.
Removal immuned
it is unseen by naked eye-
exposed to the naked heart.
With every movement of love making
matrimonial mattress yet exudes
the faint scent of virginal dreams...
Pain permeates
It digs in deep.
Nothing will change.
YOU cannot change.
You are unlovable.
You're troubled and troubling brain
takes beauty down to notch of insane.
Give it all away.
Lavish and ravish.
Obsessively bid for love
while you auction respect away,
but herein is the cursed truth:
You are not good enough to be loved.
You never were.
You never will be.
For Charlotte's Heart and Soul Contest
September 2, 2014
Out of hell’s breath the Devil’s Coachman comes and turns
around the tale to woe twists as the world creeps backwards
underneath the clay slithering sacrificial savagery begins
Ghastly ghostly spectres watch on with soulless glee
under laid this icy moon the toxic evil venom spews
within hideous precision it claw’s innocent victims prey
Fiercely gnashing jaws instinctively in this fiendish predator of night shades
dark striking off balance this stead of hell delivers his deadliest of blows
disturbingly the pungent smell permeates this surrounding sphere
Paralyzing unwary sufferers arching like a scorpion ready to strike
acrimony spreads stealthily through the shadowy invasion within the beast’s bite
suffering of hades destructive force inflicts a prelude to the apparitions
Awakening within this lair of madness an unsuspecting sacrifice
blinding under tombstones creeping slowly chill’s out
through one veil of darkened soil a nocturnal predator comes to feed
Liquefying resistant victim within the glaze of ebony eyes
mystic powers claiming to be magic crushing the core of Eve’s apple
emerging covered with its sclerotized plates the Coachman devours
Repast of putrid skin the last victim lies rotten
one captured soul sinks into the river of Acheron
final reward for the unwitting wounded prey
Begins eternal downward descent
drawn up and treasured by this hungry decedent of a Rove
carried away into hidden hollows of the dead roaring
Fiercely jealous of it’s captive trophy
sector’s remain vigilant to guard such treasured stored
this Coachman’s rightly domain claims a legion to an underworld
The deepest and darkest secrets expelled unrighteous
this scarabaeus reaper as black inside with a rapier blade and sickle
condemned are the two faced between thee jaws of this deadly fiend locked on
A co-written piece by Liam Mcdaid & Donna Loughman
For a second there I saw you smiling
I must admit I am wondering why
Things you've gone through are so appalling
They break my heart and make me want to cry
Yes you see my choreographed smile
it’s there to hide, what’s buried deep inside.
My heart’s shattered like a porcelain tile
Within me I feel the sharp shards collide
I see emotions leaking from your eyes
Speak your demons discover your healing
Dismiss false words and other people’s lies
Validate all the things you are feeling
I have come to grips with my own mistakes
From the demons I have found some relief
Sadness permeates me my body shakes
In time good will come that is my belief
I can see now how your smile meets your eyes
Doors have opened beyond a life of pain
Your true potential you now realize
All things within reach freedom once again
I feel I was given a second chance
Although I miss those I’ve lost on life’s way
I choose not to live my life in a trance
Innocence reclaimed I’ve learned how to play
By: Brenda Chiri & Richard Lamoureux
Thanks Brenda for collaborating with me on this piece. It was a pleasure writing with you.