Best Pinpricks Poems
You come to me through breathing nuances of your soul
Pinpricks of laughter, tears, and excitement
Memories buried deep within
Trickles of blood
Moments of loss
My body warms
My heart expands
I am a conduit
To receive the gifts you bring
Dancing cells before my eyes
Seducing me with their movement
Our beings so blessed with
Magic and purpose
We function, often without thought
To the complexity of the mechanisms within
That pump our hearts
Containing light years of wisdom
How precious life is
How fortunate we are
To feel bliss, love, anger, and loss
We are capable of gazing into each other’s eyes
With compassion and acceptance
Able to feel the touch
Of another’s lips on ours
Miracles happen before our eyes
We can grab a tendril, a tailfeather,
A mane, or a hand
And surf the wave to gratitude
Anticipation ignites within my soul
Understanding the delicate balance of nature
Encompassing man, woman, child, and animals
Brings welcome sweet tears to my eyes
To receive the offerings of compassion, kindness, and humility
And sharing them with others brings joy
I am one
We are one together
All of us making our way
Through darkness and light
Fluttering monarch butterflies fill the air
As we gather and rise upwards
Riding the wings of the ancient bird tribes
Unspoken words fill the gauzy lavender sky
A pod of whales below guides us
Gentle giants leading us towards
Promise and new horizons
Ushered by the heartbeats of wonder within
Categories:
pinpricks, appreciation, butterfly, community, dream,
Form:
Free verse
Death to the mockingbird with one shot to the heart,
Crushing wings with desperation sings sorrow worlds apart.
Concrete tears from wasted eyes fall on a mossy burial ground,
Taste the regret as it is yet to expel a gasping sound.
And rise oh symphonic sun in my mourning put rest to the moon,
Dehydrate this skin from deep within that I may die at noon.
Searching for stars to blanket this despairs shroud of living,
Pinpricks of celestial poison judgmental eyes are giving.
Blood upon my hands stains jealousy in deep wrinkled crease,
Saliva soiled dirt leaves an after taste that will never cease.
Breaking the joints of folded frozen wings opening like a book,
Laid before the novel ends I search for the heart that I took.
Oh mockingbird you brought this battle a war I inhale victory,
Would the devil rise with golden stained eyes celebrating with me.
With weighted flesh, holding her heart, he examines my deed,
Silently I beg come with me, success demands fulfilling my greed.
The devil he does make his choice, strong cradled hands receive
Welcoming the mockingbird, even in death does she deceive.
Breathing to life from lips I longed to love, the mockingbird awakes,
Flapping wings, resentment it stings, the ground under me shakes.
The mockingbird laughs for she mocks me no longer,
She has taken everything from me, and now she is stronger.
Categories:
pinpricks, dark, jealousy,
Form:
Rhyme
Down past the meadow is the grand old hotel.
Where statues of marble encircle the ponds
Tall cypress line up like soldiers at arms,
saluting each limo that comes down the hill
Limousines arrive daily, like vultures of prey,
to stop and eject their catch of the day
There is proof on arrival, of fortune and assets.
Hosts greet each guest, as the day stretches on,
sporting long coat-tails and red satin vests
As we watched from our hillside, from a vast world away,
we're inclined to walk down, to take a survey
Too rich for our blood! We are flooded with awe
Yet, we're drawn to peek in. Where the rich wine and dine
and we will try, most discreetly, to blend into grey.
Alabaster stone gates, and the thick sculptured stairs
are reeking affluence, that we'll never share
__
Heading back to our campground, on the river's west side,
we returned to our tent, tucked under the pines
It's been faded by sunlight, patched together with twine
Where contentment is canvas, and the wind is a song,
and where water makes music, and the breeze is a poem
Our belongings are in order, (in a disorderly way)
A camp-stove, a lantern, for the end of the day
A tent, (army surplus)…. and a stack of dry wood
will add to our comfort, as well as it should
Would we want to change places, if ever we tried?
Would we trade all our moonscapes, or the chipmunks, or tunes?
As we sat by the fire, to remember our day
We have watched the bright embers, as they floated away
Pinpricks of fire that mixed with the stars
We've been granted our millions, ….while owning the sky.
Categories:
pinpricks, culture, happiness, introspection, money,
Form:
Free verse
There is no thing so peaceful
As a winters night in the woods--
A canopy as black as pitch,
Spangled with the pinpricks of a billion stars--
Shimmering.
The banks of snow and downy flake,
Turned to diamonds by the moonlight
That drapes the sparkling,
Rolling hills with a shawl of powder blue
And midnight lace.
The cold air, brisk and chill,
Transforms my every breath to puffs
of cloud, that trail away like
Wisps of smoke, into nothingness.
So peaceful is this winter wood--and still,
Like foxes napping.
No evidence of man exists--
He is not welcome here.
I myself am an intruder, and gratefully.
There are no prints, or marks,
Save the tracks of a hungry deer.
And the indecisive flurries fall,
As if the stars themselves--
And lightly gather on my brow and lash.
Then comes, and without warning,
A gentle breeze--a timid thing
Who asserts itself--reluctantly,
And shy.
It wanders through the powdered wood,
Lightly stirring snow and pine.
How comforting the rustle--
Just as reverent as a hymn.
And the sweet scent of the Douglas Fur
Consumes the sense and dulls the wit,
Till I am thoughtless there;
Save but one, this is a prayer--
The kind whispered as a child.
Perhaps children would be welcome here,
If they could quiet be;
Although snowballs would be welcome
In this place of sanctity.
But awe the sound, I thoughtless hear
A pinecone falling from a tree--
A sound that I would overlook
Were I elsewhere but this wood.
And that's the magic of the hymn;
The magic of the prayer--
The magic of this powdered wood
To be the more aware.
And thankfully I ponder every flurry--
Every flake, every star
And every diamond--
Every cloudy breath I take.
Now the banks of blue
Are a part of me--
This winter wood, my soul;
And though soon I will be leaving,
I will never really go.
For there is no thing so peaceful
As a winters night in the woods--
And there is no thing so quiet,
As snow!
Categories:
pinpricks, beauty,
Form:
Free verse
The storm has blown itself away; there is a lighting of the sky.
The monstrous waves start to recede, and the ripples just pass on by.
The rocks find a new home from the pounding they have been given.
They come to rest haphazardly, as though so hard they have been driven.
The fence looks old, all gnarled and bent, a pathway almost hidden.
The footsteps - where have they come from - and to where are they now bidden?
An eerie cry - a sobbing sound - mixes harmoniously.
With the sound of seagulls squawking, now setting off back to sea.
The lights are lighting, one at a time, pinpricks of ghostly yellow.
The sobbing increases just slightly; a voice so soft and mellow.
‘Come follow me, a prize awaits,' it sings out on the breeze.
I find myself following it, my heart it seems to please.
I have never felt so fresh, my heart it seems to float.
I follow the pathway in the near dark; my being fills with hope.
What is it, that is calling me? Is sounds so sweet and near.
I stumble and realise I am soaked, but I am without any fear.
‘You are mine,’ says the voice so gentle and caressing.
The light seems to grow brighter, I feel an urgent need pressing.
I must find the source of this golden voice; its song fills my head.
I must press on the winding path before me, I feel I am being lead.
A shape that glows and points at me and opens its glowing arms wide.
I stop as fear overtakes me; I want to turn back, like the tide.
And then the shape embraces me, calms me and points behind.
There I am lying on the beach; am I now losing my mind?
‘Your journey is just starting,’ the voice tells me. ‘Come, we can not be late.’
“Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or a secret gate.”
Realisation comes to me as the shape pushes me onwards up the winding hill.
My earthly body I have left behind, but my adventure is in front of me still.
Categories:
pinpricks, fantasy, me, heart, sound,
Form:
Light Verse
There are stars to remind you of pinpricks
in case you ever forget the word or meaning.
There are stars to remind you how small you are
in case you are grandiose.
There are stars in case you worship them,
though I don't know why you should.
I guess there are many reasons why,
so I shall go on counting...
There are stars so "Milky Way" is not just a chocolate bar,
but has another meaning...
There are stars to light up children's eyes
when they look out of Granny's window.
(Granny's invited them to tea,
but they stay till bedtime comes.)
There are stars so Granny can explain them,
and I will stay around,
for I have only skimmed the surface
of why there are stars,
and Granny is -
ultra-wise.
------------
6/23/2018
Categories:
pinpricks, beautiful, meaningful,
Form:
Free verse
Why
are there
stars in heaven above
annoying pinpricks in the firmament?
No need for black holes if all stars were shot on sight.
The reach for the stars is hopeless they are so far away we can never visit them.
Knowing the vastness of the universe belittles and demeans us to insignificance.
We would all feel a lot better, sleep a lot better, if stars were switched off.
Like city lights, stars glare, twinkle, flash so bright all night
that we cannot sleep, and shut shutters are so stifling.
If no stars shone, we could leave the curtains open.
Better not to know what may be out there
when aliens may be coming to get us
Celestial abstinence and solitude
is what we all cherish.
Let us hold a vote.
Raise your hands
if you want
all the stars
switched
to off;
stars
shot.
Categories:
pinpricks, stars,
Form:
Free verse
"Love is a star that comes unbidden."
Quote by_ Constance
The stars above are a blanket of diamonds in the night,
like candles flickering in the wind;
God's beautiful lanterne shining and winking,
like a thousand heavenly eyes watching me.
A celestial orchestra of movement and beauty above,
a harmonious melody soothing;
swaying and drifting, swirling, twinkling,
like a ballet to a tune only the stars can hear.
I wish that I could reach out and touch the stars above me,
though, I know in reality they are far away;
they seem so close in the night sky blinking,
oh, to cradle one like a precious gem from heaven.
I smell the thick, sweet smell of honeysuckles in the air,
and the smell of rain that is coming soon;
as a thousand shining eyes from above blink again,
the smells of the night wrap around me with warmth.
Are the stars heavenly guides in that speckled dome,
our loved ones gone but watching us;
I taste my tears as I whisper 'love you forever',
and those pinpricks of light nod back to me from above.
Pearls of beauty like scattered moondust in the night,
moving fluid and graceful like a willow swaying;
like kisses of love from heaven in the night,
I would like to set sail among those stars above.
Categories:
pinpricks, stars,
Form:
Verse
submitted into "Premier VII Open Poetry Contest," Rob Carmack, Sponsor
ARRIVING AT EL PASO © Sara Etgen-Baker 2025
Some 20+ years ago, hubby and I took up roots, moving across the entire state of Texas for the hope of a better future. This poem attempts to capture my initial thoughts upon our arrival. (Yes, our future was better.)
The road, a ribbon of asphalt, unfurls beneath my tires,
each mile a memory, each turn a question—
what does it mean to arrive?
The sun dips low, casting long shadows over the desert,
here the horizon bleeds into the sky—
a canvas of ochre and rose.
The Franklin mountains rise like sentinels.
I wonder what pilgrims have crossed these rugged trails,
what hearts have beat against the same blazing sun.
The air is thick with dust and promise,
the scent of sunbaked earth
mingling with the faintest trace of rain.
Dust dances in the twilight,
and I am caught in the rhythm of it all,
the pulse of this border town.
El Paso, where the Rio Grande river flows,
a silver ribbon dividing yet uniting
two cultures, two languages, two countries.
I stand here in the embrace of El Paso,
feeling the weight of possibility and
the quiet promise of tomorrow.
Twilight descends, stars emerge~
tiny pinpricks of light
against the deepening blue.
I am a traveler in a world,
one that feels both foreign
and achingly familiar.
The weight of arrival settles on my shoulders—
not just a place, but a moment,
a step into the warmth of a new beginning.
Alas, I am a sojourner, a seeker of stories
finding my way in this city of
bridges, border crossings, and arrivals.
Categories:
pinpricks, 12th grade, future, travel,
Form:
Free verse
The clock strikes nine. Ink fills the night sky, until the silvery orb in the heavens is the only source of light.
The clock strikes twelve. Tiny pinpricks of light dot the raven-dark heavens. They shine brightly; as if each was
trying to outdo the last. I sit. And stare. And wonder. The clock strikes three. I shift and pick up my
homework. The assignment is a three page essay, due today. Should I do it? Nah... I toss it aside and resume
my staring of the sky.
Categories:
pinpricks, art, funny, imagination, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
Pregnant buds on a barren tree
Explode
Into a pale pink cloud
The delicate scent whispers in the
Chill spring air
And then
Pinpricks of green
Amongst the rosy blossoms
Bright, vibrant,
The electric colour of
Rebirth, new life
Look below,
Littered on the ground
Like a bridal procession
Recently triumphed past
A collage of discarded petals
As they plummet they are
Quickly replaced with
The more resilient leaves
Of Spring’s awakening.
This moment, so perfect
When all converge in one
And she wears her
Many faceted cloak.
Resplendent, luxurious
Is there anything more
Sublime
Than a cherry tree
In April?
Categories:
pinpricks, nature
Form:
Ode
Here come a billion trillion pinpricks,
Earthbound in a headlong plummet,
Off my tiny window each bead flicks,
With the sparkle of a liquid comet.
Up at the pouring sky I take a peep,
And scan a city that’s much too wet,
Soon I'm lying in my king-sized bed,
By sounds of rain I'm lulled to sleep.
Categories:
pinpricks, home, rain, sky, sleep,
Form:
Quatrain
S tars like pinpricks in the sky
T iny beads of light shining so high
A rranged in a way just so
I ntricately set, this we know
R emnant of a great explosion
W ild arrangements, was it really implosion?
A rrayed in what we see as confusion
Y et all placed just so without exclusion
T hought cannot take us there
O mniscient power our thoughts ensnare
T he stairs to the stars we can only seek
H allelujah, hear the cries from the meek
E luding our striving to catch them our chances weak
S tars that twinkle we cannot reach
T he barriers are there we cannot breach
A s we cannot reach stars in the skies
R each I can the stars in your eyes
S tars that are mine I beseech
Written by: Mandy Tams 20/02/2012
Categories:
pinpricks, nature, stars,
Form:
Acrostic
iv.
within genesis,
a silent monk chanted
at a perpetual window,
thin cracks of canticle’s
completed my insanity,
at astonishing heights
invisible feet walked on air,
free of psychosis
the water rippled as I slipped,
silently screaming
into this dazzling stream
called life …
v.
clarity is and was
no cushion to float on,
its feathers,
still protrude from the
corner of my swag,
and my feet
are pierced to arch
with the stigma …
vi.
my head toppled into hands
brimming with dark iridescent clouds,
whose black pillows of depression
strain at the seams, pinpricks of light
rip the fabric in the lye of madness,
paranoia had concealed hope.
by its very deception
it had become,
my compass point and light
on the longest road …
vii.
hands that were absent of movement
found perpetual motion,
and they grew callous
crawling a mere breath
from the hard road of life
beauty had become stranger
and in Orion’s belt
a pelt was hung
and forgotten
as the dead flee,
serendipity was distracted
by the sparkle
in my broken wings,
submersed in delusions
and still alive with imagination
she forever soothes me
in the shadows
I hide between,
a blue ocean
and a tea green sea
distantly I hear
and know ….
Tu-whit!- Tu-whoo!
viii.
varied are the shades of illusion
in which I bathe …
Categories:
pinpricks, lifelife,
Form:
Blank verse
Soliloquy to Love
To be loved or not to be loved; restatement of existential indecision.
No less a question to the universe, no less unanswered, no less
Turned aside by fear of the unknown.
Not to be loved; a land of emptiness plagued by hunger and the
Inner ache of longing, fanned by friendly words and glances
From a passing soul, of like temperament and wit. A place
Where the brilliant sun is dimmed by thin cloud that sheds cold rain
Like tears in the loneliness of evening. To be loved, an eternal quest,
A life traveller gazing at the pinpricks of stars and distant galaxies in
heart swelling wonder, with expectant anticipation of joy to come.
Being loved, a precious state of surety of being, inner power and
Command over life, outward shining happiness to dazzle all about.
These are the head and tails of the currency of living, the coin of
Daily intercourse with those about who gaze back in like manner,
Engaged in their own invisible struggle to find love; but some do not seek love.
Not to seek love. The safe haven in which the ship of the soul rides serene,
untroubled by the storm of emotion, passion and uncertainty which
Lies beyond the safe harbour. To seek love. To venture into the tumult
Of the open sea, far from safety, racked with fear and doubt, frightened,
But with the glow of treasures ever before, luring the happy soul onwards.
An azure sky and evening's soft air, aglow with sunset, the horizon pigmented
with the flame of love
Categories:
pinpricks, introspection, love, universe,
Form:
Blank verse