Best Play Out Poems
Dream schemes play across the screen
And third eye examines them,
Ever so closely; tonight,
Another etheric flight;
Will show me new horizons
And the beings that dwell there;
The archetypes and images.
Scenes play out in colors,
Shadows weave their magic;
I am inundated.
Visiting spirits came,
Just to bid me adieu;
My guides know what I need.
Somewhere the light starts,
To glow; a pinpoint,
Growing as it moves
Toward each scene, shines;
Revealing wisdom.
A dream is an
Education;
Dream and wisdom
Will come to you.
Dreaming mind,
Subconscious,
Library.
Dream long
And deep;
Dream.
The flame dances on a breeze;
Candlelight dances on the walls.
Amazing shadows will be seen;
Wherever those flames may fall.
Such magical creatures are candle flames;
Mesmerizing beings.
Up there on my Mantle,
The dancers play out scenes.
They dance to their own stories;
Amazing mysteries.
No choreographers paint such glories;
The flames, quite creative, be.
Candle flame or burning fire;
They never fail to inspire.
lasting...
all through your life, dear child,
the following crucial life lessons...
let go of the things
you cannot change;
all things beyond your control.
the past lies decayed
in your rearview mirror.
don't look back!
never mind
that "T" left uncrossed,
that "I" without a dot on top;
all the wrongs not righted.
don't look back!
never mind
what you regretfully did,
what was done to you,
what opportunities you missed.
focus on the present
and mine diamonds out of it.
don't dwell
on mistakes you've made;
they're supposed to be made.
do not lose sleep
the over opinions of others.
you have no control
over how people perceive you;
do not lose sleep!
let it go...
look forward.
the future awaits you.
you can never predict
what it has in store.
there's no telling
how the order of things will go,
how moments, events;
life, in general, will play out.
look forward nevertheless!
just keep busy living,
breathing, and let
the unchangeables all go.
Poem of the week on 03/18/2023
Writing Challenge - L words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Theme chosen: Lasting
Date written: 03/14/2023
Spring awaits its equinox of rebirth
where bluebells display a bed of blue haze,
vivid hues dazzle, delight, upon gaze,
nature cloaked in emerald’s green fresh earth
and I too wait …
Winter awaits its solstice of the sun -
nature rests in silhouettes against light
with season’s monotone palette in sight
that diminishes when nightfall’s begun
and I wait …
New year awaits, held breath, for chimes of time
saying farewell to old - embracing new,
dreams flutter, like confetti, to pursue
as I sit to ponder upon a rhyme
my heart and I still wait …
Alone, lonesome, am I with thoughts to muse
over many seasons that have so long past -
how have the years vapoured away so fast?
Am I at its mercy with all its ruse?
and yet, wait do I …
Cloaked in theatrical shadows on the
great stage of life where I play out my scenes
against the backdrop of changing screens
will I ever shine as the brightest star?
I still wait my heart and I …
I wait to be Romeo’s leading lady
and not a miscast as fate should dictate.
I wait to be someone’s queen not a pawn
when the flow of time is but a stalemate
and I wait, wait, wait …
Back then,
backyards were big enough
to nurture a growing soul
and provide a space
for the earth to play out
its seasons in full rehearsal.
There were wide tracks
of grass, trees to climb,
old sheds to rummage
with their interiors full of tools
and bric-a-brac
webbed in history.
There was food - ripe tomatoes
and corn from a vegetable patch,
grapes swelling
under a cool canopy of vines,
soft skins bursting
their dark sweetness
inside expectant mouths,
almonds, apricots and the luscious
dribble of a warm peach
down sticky cheeks.
Some had roaming chickens
with their bounty of eggs.
Backyards were blotting paper
for a child's hurt, a hiding place
to get away, a theater
for projecting the phantasies
of a sheriff or a princess
high in a golden tower.
And in summer, a sprinkler
casting a gauntlet of cold spray
for tiny feet to challenge.
Then it all ends
when backyards become
too small and more exotic places
call a restless soul to leave
its Eden and break the spell
of its beginning.
-- January 30, Martyr's Day --
noble and martyred
wrapped in the colours they served
nation in their legacy
***
August 14, 1947
Jawaharlal Nehru stood before The Parliament - Words were spoken, recounted this century as clear as then.
“Long years ago, we made a tryst with destiny; and now the time comes when we shall redeem our pledge, not wholly or in full measure, but very substantially.
At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom.
A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new -- when an age ends, and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance. It is fitting that at this solemn moment we take the pledge of dedication to the service of India, her people, and to the still larger cause of humanity.
The turning-point is past, and history begins anew for us, the history which we shall live and act and others will write about.”
August 15, 2017
Policemen are positioned at the borders of states.
Stars are thanked at the break of dawn - the night passed without their lives.
Embassies light up with stories of the past - They play out on facades for the holidayer in traffic.
Tiny hands wave paper flags at the rural side of the city. In the August heat, parades are viewed from terraces barefoot.
Students wear pins in a march. The sole aim ~ Giving back more than we get.
A day cannot sleep without celebration of culture:
saffron, white and green
twenty nine states on stage -
nation in their eyes
.. continuation posted
Why do I have to choose?
Don't ask me to do this, the test of my
virtues?
Did you send this man as part of me?
Then why, does play out, so confusing?
Love and loyality render me irrational.
I gave my heart to both of you, at the aisle.
To have and to hold until death do us part.
That decision would have been easier at
the start.
I prayed for your soul, when our lives
began.
Those nights we talked of Christ's
salvation plan.
Whom will I serve? Choose this very day.
I know what I must do, my thoughts in
disarray.
God, we must follow you beyond and
above.
Commanding us to choose you, as our
first love.
You sent us your Son, who died on the
cross.
Your returning draws nigh, so many are
still lost.
The whole of a journey still to be traveled
is much like a novel begun
with threads of the story not yet unraveled
and windings of plot to be spun.
We’ve myriad paths to meander, assess.
The hours are long till midnight’s chime.
It seems like eternity, nevertheless,
‘tis only a twinkling in time.
The wise old mysterious owl, unsurpassed
at vigilance during the dark,
in the lore of the past could events forecast,
though lacking the song of the lark.
Still future tomorrows are anyone’s guess
when we’re in existence’s prime.
It seems like eternity, nevertheless,
‘tis only a twinkling in time.
Our lives stretch before us as endless array,
neath skies bright with starry wishes,
of vast possibilities all on display
or feast of enticing dishes.
To life’s great adventuring we acquiesce.
We’ve many a mountain to climb.
It seems like eternity, nevertheless,
‘tis only a twinkling in time.
The universe also has spans of ascent
(or multiverse, as some prefer,
having ‘bubbles’ in space of dimensions bent
with heavens discretely astir),
together with cycles of cosmic regress,
midst empyrean spheres sublime.
It seems like eternity, nevertheless,
‘tis only a moment in time.
On this earthly stage where we mortals play out
our shenanigans, seldom wise,
getting backed into corners with no way out,
till at last we open our eyes,
let’s endeavor our noblest selves to express
ere we bow out of pantomime,
for while seeming eternal, nevertheless,
‘tis only a moment in time…
~ Harley White
The stage of life is crowded,
With a dark and sullen cast.
And though it seems those fading dreams,
Are just figments of the past.
Your manner is straight forward,
You're neither actor or a clown.
You fight the fight with all your might,
But still they put you down.
With clenched teeth and furrowed brow,
You walk bravely straight ahead.
Through stifled air, you won't despair,
Over all the roads you've bled.
You're standing firm and resolute,
Cause your spirit is intact.
Will time abate or will you wait,
To play out the final act.
It's hard to pick your poison,
When the dramas always change.
It's never clear, the more you fear,
Your dreams are out of range.
When at last the curtain falls,
On your temperance or your rage.
With peace of mind, in time you'll find,
That all the world's a stage.
Its funny, its funny how they all play out,
If you ask me i think it's silly how they all are.
Im old,
Im very old
But that doesn't mean i've seen it all..
How could i?
It’ll just end up killing me.
I, I’ve seen
just enough to know how truly silly it is,
How silly they are,
How silly they make things.
They’ll pay for their wrapped around cancer in a box
But yet again it wouldn't kill them.
They pay for company that lasts for a couple of hours,
And yet again maybe they could be happy.
If only, it wasn’t short,
But it is all very short,
Very short and fake.
They pay for anything to make them feel alive
And believe in any stranger’s word,
for some kind of truth
Just to continue living in their silly ways and silly numbers.
Will you be my friend?
i don't have anything to sell or any money
But i can offer something that's not silly..
The truth at its very best..
Run barefoot thro' the park,
Dare to stay out after dark.
Kick up a storm of Autumn leaves,
Watch the birds nest in the eaves.
Go skinny dipping in the brook,
Climb a tree to test your pluck.
Race thro' woods in dead of night,
Look for fairies in pale moonlight.
Watch the trains thunder down the track,
See the smoke belch from its stack.
Peer down the dark tunnel up ahead,
Here there be dragons we fear and dread.
Witches fly across the moon,
Casting spells riding on a broom.
Don't let them see or lest you'll be,
Turned into a toad for all to see.
Run fast, run fast,
Get home at last.
Ragged breath from heaving chest,
Safe and sound at mothers breast.
Happy now, sat by her chair,
Your not a meal in the dragons lair.
Boys and girls play out at night,
Trying to be brave but full of fright
Mother has called me in for bed,
A welcome drink and toasted bread.
It's the end of the day,
For a sleepy head.
© Dave Timperley 2012
I loved you
I hate you
The picture and Sees candy I gave you for Christmas
Me there you smiled and accepted with gratitude
Me not around, she put her two cents in,
You got on stage and dissed it
It had been a wonderful night
I pick up the phone
We intended to meet for dinner
Quickly found out you did a shitty job of picking a winner
You tell me your girl doesn't want me in your home
I'm your daughter, your princess, not a bar fly
Jealousy is such a wicked and ugly color
The darkest sound and tone
Finding out your father has a wobbly backbone
Your girl yelled at me on the phone,
Accused me of names,
Cast me from her Casa of Eden
You see two cats fighting
For you it's a stroke to the ego, makes you more vein.
Asked you to therapy,
Man...that was deep
Yeah right! Got no where with you
Felt like one person trying to know down the Berlin wall
What are you a deer in the headlights?
If I can admit wrong so should you
It's not all on me as you would want me to believe is true
Thought this is a challenge in life you gotta play out
One day I opened my eye,
Staring at the ceiling I realized
I'd gone to buy a card for you,
All the loving writes
Nothing related to you baby
Something was wrong
You were wrong for treating me bad
I was wrong for accepting
No more..no more
Hit the road dad..and dont you come back no more
Let's make a child
From the both of us
One that will exhibit
The very best of our love
One that will grow strong
In the way of right and never wrong
A child that will play out in perfect harmony
The melody to our love song
Let's make a child
That we can call our very own
To always love and cherish
To forever have and to hold
One that will be a blessing
From the folly of youth to the wisdom of old
A child that will stand strong
In the very image of God
Let's make a child
That will fill up our world
A child for all ages
Strong in stature and confidant sure
One that brings out a smile
Be it boy or be it girl
Let's make a child
That will fill up our world
We breathe in the shadows, perfecting the lie,
While the truth of us screams in a hushed lullaby.
I am stained by that kiss—by the heat, by the sin,
By the way that you let me and the cold universe in.
You were the brave one, the first to break through,
But now I am haunted by the ghost of you.
I am tearing apart in the way i wait for your touch,
Loathing the fact that I want you this much.
Was it a whim? Just a flicker of grey?
Or does the same fever consume you today?
The unknown is a killer, deep in the vein,
A craving for pleasure that’s indistinguishable from pain.
The guilt is a shadow I can't seem to shed,
A heavy, dark cover I wear in bed.
When the world demands we play out our part,
In the wreckage of us, hold me in your heart.
I am drowning in "maybe”, in secrets and salt,
Loving you feels like a beautiful fault.
If this is a ruin, let the heavy stone fall,
But if you are with me—if you feel it all—
Then let the shame burn until we are apart,
And forever, please, hold me in your heart.
An Illusion Of Words
A girl
No way to know her age
Her looks are years younger than her
Her mind smarter that her age
Her beauty is timeless among the ages
She sits and writes day after day
Places words in just the right place
She laughs at her ideas
She cries at how her writings play out
She is alone among a multitude of friends
Her thoughts jump between life and death
Love and hate
War and peace
No one knows how her mind works
It is only a guess to tell how she feels
She doesn’t want anyone to know her
She is a ghost walking among the living
A spirit that can only be held in the mind
And that is how she will stay
Just an illusion of words