Best Pinhole Poems


Eggshells

From a mouthful of this morning’s eggs,
I pull bits of char from yesterday’s breakfast.
‘I had no chance to scrub the pan’, I plea with myself-
But I still smash it over my skull
like a cartoon.

Every morning I wake up 
feeling last night’s feelings,
thinking last night’s thoughts,
about what’s happening 10 years ago, 
and what happened tomorrow.

If you add up every 
simultaneous
suffocating
moment 
I fight through- 
just to say:

‘i love you’

It would stretch for longer than I’ve known you,
which is longer than I’ve been alive.

There was no ‘today’ in my broken egg. 
No difference between coming or going,
to an automaton in purgatory 
who saw life through the pinhole eyes 
of a cardboard mask won at a birthday party 
I never asked for.
The sky looked like the ceiling of a small, dark closet.
and flowers looked like plastic bargain bin decor 
coated in lead paint, the kind left on roadside graves.
I used to count those as a child,
on the way to destinations 
I still dread my arrival to.

If I were brave enough to show you my awe and my terror
of loving the one who revealed 
the world as something real, all this time-

I would sink face down in dirty bathwater 
choking on wet, laughing sobs
until my fingerprints wrinkled away
and tear at my clammy skin 
until my soft nails bent backward
and paint red bruises all over my trembling body
that would spell out a primitive language 
neither of us had the chance to learn. 

This is my best guess:

‘i am just a bad thing that happened
a book of false memories and blind feelings. 
You are a very fast reader,
You’ll soon reach the end of me.’

I remember drawing a map in crayon 
of every ditch I saw myself lying in
strange, unnatural positions.
Like I'd been struck by a car,
and someone shoved my body away
so I wouldn’t mess up the next one.

Perfectionism

Ideas
thoughts
potential
scattered and unrelated
until 
A twist
a turn 
a perfect form,
balanced.
Yet it cannot be sustained
competing forces
expectations
The pattern dissolves
as it is compelled to turn 
away
from itself.
Exciting ideas
moving apart and at the same time
together.
A new shape forms,
for a moment.
Never ending movements 
interspersed with 
originality.
Calm but
fragile
as the slightest
pull 
threatens its very existence

Ideas 
passions
possibilities
contained within a shell.
A veneer of strength
protecting it,
from itself.

To the observer
an impression of self-containment
control
success.
Yet for those who dare peer
Through the pinhole,
insight.


Will the kaleidoscope
ever rest
satisfied with its 
own creation?

Eclipse

Pleiades...

Evening skies polarized
Early end to the light
Eyes spy orb above crags
Eager pinhole cam shows
Essence, inverted page
Eureka! Welding specs!
Everyone have a look!

9/2/16


Premium Member Oceans Apart

Distant notes adrift of a lone melancholic mandolin 
Astride a gentle breeze covetous caress to my skin
Seductive and voluptuous a most impassioned plea
Bursts a sunset with fervent shades of lush alizarin

Promising nonchalant sensory whispers of ecstasy
Gardenia jasmine honeysuckle and stargazer lily
Sweet alluring seductive magnetic pull of my heart
Disintegrating it to a unique trickle of precarious filigree

Tantalizing lure elevated to consummate succulent art
How can I tolerate for us to be any longer apart
Each night my dreams reach for you though a pinhole
And tears in my nights only long for you, mine sweetheart

Nightly ritual to engage you in a slow dance with my gallivanting soul
Somehow soothing as I refuse to let myself fall through a sinkhole
A most inopportune war keeping us separate and in distress 
Longing to touch you to hold you and arm in arm go for a stroll 

Reminiscing feverish tête-à-têtes with such unambiguous finesse 
Reduced to anything I would acquiesce rendering me breathless
Yearning burning craving for a fiery and steamy rendezvous to dispel chagrin
I would do anything at this point there is nothing I would not transgress



AP: 2nd place 2020

Submitted on May 4, 2018 for contest NEW POEMS (8 DIFFICULT WORDS) sponsored by EMILE PINET  -  RANKED 1ST

Spiralling Stardust Sight

Spiralling Stardust Sight



Chasing clusters of dust and Venus vapid lust
We sail and we sway throughout the Milky Way
In a thrust, we land on a planet of candescent crust
And with dynamic display spiralling star dust spray

Jupiter and its moon Callisto a calamitous cocoon
With craters of ice, the shivering silence shall suffice
Off to Mars by noon on a botanical baronial balloon
It has paid the price with scars that scabrously splice

And lest we not forget Pluto a throw away or asset
A tiny pinhole within the cosmic super galactic bowl
On the night we met the stars shining as we sweat
The love that you stole along with my heart and soul

All this on a spontaneous starry narcotising night
Within a spiralling stardust spraying sensuous sight.




Oct.11.2017
The Cosmos
Sponsored by: Thvia Shetley 



First submitted on May.07.2017
Resurrected for this entry

Spiraling Stardust Sight

Chasing clusters of dust and Venus vapid lust
We sailingly sway throughout the Milky Way
In a thrust, we land on a planet of candescent crust
And with dynamic display spiraling star dust spray

Jupiter and its moon Callisto a calamitous cocoon
With craters of ice, the shivering silence shall suffice
Off to Mars by noon on a botanical baronial balloon
It has paid the price with scars that scabrously splice

And lest we not forget Pluto a throwaway or asset
A tiny pinhole within the cosmic super galactic bowl
On the night we met the stars shining as we sweat
The love that you stole along with my heart and soul

All this on a spontaneous starry narcotising night
Within a spiraling stardust spraying sensuous sight.



May.07.2017
Night Sky Sonnets only - Contest
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton


Eclipse

You were too cool to think the same things were neat that I did-
            the mundane was beneath the notice of your evolved intellect.

You would not have deigned to explain the pinhole effect of the leaves,
The crescent shapes scattered across the ground and on the walls.

Would you have regaled us with your time in Saudi Arabia?
With your native, unpracticed talents, your genealogy?

I recall  that I was one that could make you smile at the absurd, 
and knew you could value things that were silly, or ordinary.

The melancholy of those approaching milestones seeps in-
I'm adding molasses to my coffee again, sweetly bitter.

Mournful, Residual Toll

Lamp shade shrouds my blanched soul
Dimming, residual light o'er weary heart doth roll
Flickering memories cloud my intellectual pole
Obscure shadows flutter through subconscious pinhole
Dusk, fading hope through my restive spirit doth stroll
Encroaching darkness shutters my resolve; my psyche doth patrol
Murky thoughts leaf through my sensory scroll
Shimmering reflections flounder, then my inner being roil
Foreboding sentiments my sanity will parole
Oscillating dreams eclipse all feelings of control
Loosely anchored in sinking ship; fueled by despondency's blackest coal
Mournful echoes sound in waves, marooning courage on lifeless 
shoal
Last glimmer of twilight, now must pay the woeful toll
Shattered and shipwrecked brokered to misery's dole

Dark of the Sun

Dark of the sun
shine your black light down on me,
from the pinhole spot of anti-matter
centred at your core.
That little speck of dirt,
a cosmic shrine of heresy,
absorbs the way the world seems flatter,
in any time of war.

Dark of the sun,
cast your ice-cream cone of night
like a spear from the heart of chaos
lancing to the ground.
How the microbes hone
ultra-violet rays of guided flight
to stake the flesh and bone of Eros
and any lover found.

Dark of the sun,
fire your flip-side heart of  plague,
bounce radium from the ocean glass,
the blue galactic eye.
And would the rage subside,
if love and life were less than vague
and crept from out the deep crevasse
to shine before they die?
© Tony Bush  Create an image from this poem.

Who Tells

What do you say now?
Is there anybody who want to foul?
Standing behind and knocking,
Little lady....I see this sparkle rocking,
Life is full of dream,
Can't distinguish the laughter from the scream,
Out from the frying pan...straight to the fire,
Serif stuck to support.....I never mind,
No answer but I'm super,
Have mercy,oh kind!
Life is full of twisting,....I and that lady felt in a deep love,
No money but made each other have,
I was just a dreamer,.....
Questions we both asked,...why this night is not for our two?
Gradually protracted the range of pain from our affection shoe,
Her complexion is beyond the pan of ebony,
It was silly,
Watching her in a magazine!
Liberating men on their gusts is sequentially annihilated by power....But what should I say then?
A prediction propels the phsychologist...
but what is the outcome from that list?
What is the source of inspiration laid under the equilibrium of an action?
A beige model,...thus the life prospects of a solemn speaker.
Endeavoring the downcast,setting pinnacles to catapult those beneath,
what is the supremacy of outcasts limit?
Elude with nothing but a pinched of a capricon's feather....
Rich man sitting in a pub....unconscious of his expense,
A white coloured worker aim at counting even a penny.
It's a secretion to tie many,
Veil the remarks of the low class in society,
Makes an uncovering of their best nasty,
Keep on jeopardizing the honorary of a paupers good motives in building societal ray,
Wax blended with a marble clay.
Yeah!....yeah!
A swampy worms will be their king size bed....
A pinhole camera is before an eye...gonna see,right!
Just an optimal glance welled,
It's branded with a momentum....if Job was shield with the pinion of might.

Premium Member And Now For Something Completely Different

still i taste my lady from first

i met her in the wake of night.
a tiny flake of gold, 
traveling at the speed of light.

i dipped my plume, and 
used her bright white on a canvas black, 
mapped my way to her land.

Before i had another thought
my heart racing, 
gone this woman i sought.

on the following eve, 
i returned to the blind spot
hoping for a reprieve.

nothing glowed not then, 
not 'nother 'leven times, 'n still I tried, 
but for not again.

then above the silence of a scream 
i heard a glow, saw a sound, 
i felt a vision, a faceless dream.

it was my woman of yellow ore, my finely cut prism of glass,
with an inviting scent she beckoned me to taste her fast
like a ray of sun i travelled through and to the other side i did pass.

from solid to a multicolored arch, from half to whole,
and almost before it started, it ended,
a dark grey cloud, with lightning and thunder a pinhole

a lively pillow of moisture, burst!

The Sage of Time

The hidden script hidden inside his ribs,
prophecies screeching out of his limbs,
prophecies which create a universal theology,
a philosophy of the sage of time.,

The sage who traveled through time to change the course of wrath of human kind,thus the wrath came to an end as the pinhole of light shined its might!.,

Human kind lived in peaceful harmony thy the sage of time could never live in totally harmony as its his path to travel through universal time lines and create balance where every living thing is connected as one sequence,

although time after time, 
the sage forgotten his universal rhyme,
only to find himself floating in a river of lime!.

Daguerre's Lunch

Louis came to the café around one,
set his wooden boxes beside a table 
and looked at the chalk board menu as 
he felt through his pants for money

He decided he could afford a 
baguette, a small slice of 
Brie de Meaux, and a pear 

He told the waiter his order
and began to expose the copper plate
of the menu sitting on the next table

The waiter returned with lunch and 
said "quatre francs s'il vous plaît" as
Louis dug his pants and handed payment

Then Louis began to eat while
time took in, the cost of capturing 
the world in a whole new way

Popping the last of the Brie to mouth
he closed the aperture, put on his bowler
and said "bon monsieur l'après-midi" 
and walked down the afternoon avenue

© Goode Guy 2013-11-18

ekphrastic for 2013-11-24 at 
the Charles Taylor Art Museum of 
"Pinhole Paris II: Café"
pinhole photograph by Cece Wheeler

Louis Daguerre, born just outside of Paris, France (1789-11-18)
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Check

~ Check ~

I confess my discontent 
I was stifled
In restraints by suggestions and pretty things
The ones bought in the streets for a stroke of ego
The ones bought by the vulnerable and naive

I bought the bootleg covers of dreams
They left me empty and listless 
With an ache in my chest
It reaches, cracking sternum 
Calling out like an unmet fix
Crying out like an addiction

The empty digs down deep
Leaving pinhole scars that only I know exist
That only I know I keep
My sweet little drug 
Saturating my blood stream 
These chemicals will not rest
They flow and form malformed notions 
That I need you
Still

That is my illness
Knowing how you will continue to slowly bury me
Even if unknowingly, even if unintentional 
Because no one intentionally becomes addicted, do they?
Then I think, only an addict would keep coming back for the come down

So here I am, hooked
Chasing beasts and legends 
Surviving on fantasies of fairy tales that lay captive in my mind
That play chess with my unrest and I am forever... 
In check


Andreanna Escamilla
07/06/2020

Thou Shall Not Fall

Within opulent oblivions of misconceptions
We lay the dormant dreams of redirections
Factitiously falling into the antagonizing abyss
Relinquishing the love we misguidedly miss

In search of illusions of celestial spheres
Vacant voices voided within emptying ears
Still, I’m falling through jaded judicial jells
Where baleful beasts show us hidden hells

In corrosive corners of our inner dark
We spot a pinhole of a sedulous spark
Thus we salubriously stand thundering tall
For we shall not fatuously faultlessly fall.



May.16.2017
MAYTIME STANDARD CONTEST any theme any form max of 25 lines 
Sponsored by: Brian Strand

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