Best Poetry Month Poems
ghost, river, shiver, gaze, tender, cold
Ghost River
Ghost river runs without a shrink.
Little known in polite circles.
With cupped hands, the shameless down drink.
Suspended place, not inked in journals.
A decisive shiver up spine.
Why’d a boat wait at foggy shore?
He’d smiled at me, as we’d cheered wine.
Trepidation ripe in my core.
His leather gaze; something so strong.
It’s cold in this romantic boat.
The oars sluice in mud; bid ‘so long.’
This life offers me an antidote.
Awful the scented rose petals,
so inky ebonic afloat.
Tender whispers amidst nettles
of thorns piercing my inner throat.
Before I thought to scream, the hosts
in revelry asked me to join.
“Get out of the boat…” (drown, they coax)
Madness! Their eyes’ covered with coins.
My eyes flutter open at once.
There’s a knock at the door. It’s him.
I’ve been warned; palpitations in flux.
Satan’s given a pseudonym.
I shake off my trepidation,
it’s only a dream; excited.
Suddenly - a celebration.
Down in the waters, invited.
No longer a dream, a nightmare.
I’d never awaken…no prayer.
"A writer must use ink from their heart for their readers." By Poet
Even as a creative "Ghost" writer,
we need "Heart" as we pull an all-nighter.
What will our muse want to "Deliver,"
maybe happy or sad or be a forgiver.
Words can sometimes be very "Tender,"
other times be bold and an offender.
"Erase" is one of our many tools,
no writer wants to be put in a group of fools.
Words are like paint painting the weather,
from days with flowers like pretty heather.
Summers can be really hot and bold,
then we cool off to a winter of "Cold."
They say our blood is really ink,
not red but a pretty pink.
Words Used
Ghost, Heart. (Nouns)
Shiver, Deliver, (Verb)
Wicked, Viscous, (adjectives)
I had a friend- jovial and sweet, in my college days.
The same room, we had shared at the hostel.
I noticed, by and by, she was losing her sprightliness.
Had no clue, what upsetting thoughts nagged her HEART.
One night, she woke up screaming- “GHOST, Ghost”
Looking delirious she said petrified, a ghost was at the window.
I brushed it aside, thinking she had seen a nightmare.
But her erratic behaviour continued, often acting bizarre.
Slowly, she seemed to have slipped into a spell of silence.
There was always a look of horror in her eyes.
She was no more the cheery girl of the past.
Into a world of spectral shadows, she seemed to have sunk.
If ever I woke up from my sleep, I saw her wide eyed,
Gazing into the air, as if seeing something horrifying.
Once, she said, she saw a skeleton dangling on a VISCOUS spider net.
Often, she was seen SHIVERING and stopped behaving normal.
So upset, I wished to DELIVER her of her mournful plight,
Her parents were informed who took her to a doctor.
Under examination, she was diagnosed with Schizophrenia,
Characterized by hallucinations of WICKED spirits, haunting her.
* * * * * * *
When memories come surfing, still my heart goes out to her
Who fell into the abysmal depths of delusion and frightful fantasy.
Will antidepressants work on her? Will she ever become whole again?
Or will the dark demons continue to haunt her, day and night?
"A true writer must write. Ink is in their veins." By Poet
Writers love their many letters to choose from,
letters turning into words then into sentences.
Poems come from the love of writing,
writing about the past or maybe about the present.
Poems can be true or false,
some will make you cry and others will make you laugh.
The writer and reader are both in love,
in love with letters, words, sentences and reading.
What is love, and how should I describe it?
A smile, a heart that beats only for me,
A flickering star in your eyes, that lit,
Blue sky, a high mountain, the deepest sea.
Winds that gently carries all your whispers,
Flowers that smell like your breath in mornings,
The cold spring's rain giving me soft shivers,
The freedom of the soul, spreading its wings.
The rising sun that caresses your hair,
The rain that mingles with your happy tears,
The breath of life, the water, and the air,
Blissful seconds, hours, decades, hundred years.
My love for you will never cease nor die,
"Would none had ever loved but you and I!"
"When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy." Rumi
John 4: 20-14
Words from the list: heart, river, eclipse, shiver, cold, tender, lush
Heavy-hearted searching for something,
Seeking solace
Slowly walking
Down to the river
Feeling cold, shivering
Plodding through
The lush, verdant
Damp undergrowth
Chilled to the bone
Down at the river
My spirit revived
While absorbing
The bubbling water spray
All those negative ions
Turned the spirit on
I could feel peace
A joy in my soul
His presence near
Eclipsed my troubled soul
Then the hand of Jesus
Touched me tenderly
He drew me in
Oh, what joy that filled my soul
Something happened and I know
I have that river flow
Day two of NPM
Day Two of NPM
April is national poetry month
OR
why eye can't have a girlfriend
old age has crept upp on eye
because of my broken teeth
it is a health hazard to kiss
overall appearances
halitosis and local laws forbidding marriage
of the poor and homeless
eye stink unwashed friendless old man in poverty land
but mostly because eye can’t even kiss
just putting my arm around women or kissing them is now offlimits
perhaps she has a rich boyfriend
either he or even her might just beat me too the
end of story time
a rhyme a rhyme a rhyme
she was a student of life was the girlfriend she has had old classmates people she still calls friends perhaps eye am the jealous eye perhaps love is not the answer to her burning question after all whom am eye
Poetry month has left me quite breathless with endless ideas~
~~~~
-trends
-news
-events
-hobbies
-helping the Lord get views for prophecy on blog
-healing by getting my mind off of other things
,How seasons and weather change
the way I shiver pleasantly from their
anonymous ways---
daring in the heated blisters of
summer's flesh, then
mysterious through winter's ghost...
There's no way to measure each
and every cycle's radiance--- I don't know
why they are equal in lush revelries,
untamed yet graceful
along pendulums of time.
Still, I thrive, fumble, and journey once
again to relish the ambrosial interludes
within their galaxy ...without counting
the viscous sunsets of fall
or spring time carousels:
I gaze experientially
at life's moments kinetic as brushed winds --
tuck them as magical spells and then
begin yet another awakening
before plucked midnight shuts down...
My heart with such dread is reeling.
I’m looking up at the ceiling.
Something’s there though it’s something I can’t see.
I felt it first when it went right through me.
I shivered then because it felt so cold.
The room is frigid. What do I behold?
The ceiling fan is spinning round and round.
It’s not turned on! Is something here earth-bound?
Is there a ghost gazing down at me in my fright?
Is it something wicked that visits me this night?
Or is it an old soul trapped and as scared as I?
Oh, that I could see it and look it in the eye.
Suddenly the spinning of the fan has stopped.
Something from the ceiling to the floor has dropped.
I pick up a brooch that in a picture of my great-grandma I had viewed.
By the brooch her death deemed accidental is with murder’s chill imbued.
DAY 3 of national poetry month
DAY 3 of national poetry month
Morris WEst The Navigator
flap
All of us at one time or another dream of escaping from todays threatening world
deaf dumb and blind
OR
a non friend
But here he draws the line because he is not the enemy of mine
still it is time to cut the cord the rope the binding ties
let him have his own identity his own reality
let him have his other friends his avarice and greed his needs
his needs outweigh his wants and views
you might indeed have lost a friend but gained a seed
he is not so stupid as all of that he will notice when you are gone and perhaps he will think about the reasons that you left him there bereft adrift in time his cursing and his skewed ideas are given from the fate
brow beater rude do this for me self centered
let him learn to navigate
bigoted ed.note.ed tortures me
for everyone that rules without that golden rule does it out of fears and ignorance will rule the masses
blind to the self and to the things they say unto others
dumb would be much better
this author was almost arressted for using electric in the park
the city blue and proper
they have had enought
of people stealing like a bank robber
they placed me under arresst for really real
and then they let me go on one condition
bank robbery would not be let go but petty theft can be let go
the police woman would not stop laughing at me
the way eye did not wish to be taken into custody
I
English showcases Joseph Conrad, Dickens, James Joyce, Tagore
Conrad, once a Pole, Joyce may be Irish, Tagore -Indian of course
In political terms, England rocketed after 1558, besting the Spanish
Our 'lingua franca' changed from Spanish to the Queens English
II
That is all the good news, "I am afraid to say," -
Did you just hear me spout negativity
Conjuring up spirits,yes FEAR IS A DARK SPIRIT
That creeps in casually, as in pat phrases ("Watch and Pray")
III
Proverbs reminds us, "Life and death are in the tongue,"
And "I could kill myself I didn't know this early in life."
Again, the words that allow spirits against LIFE a welcome
Recall this, "My back is killing me," and "I would die for my wife!"
IV
Poets, there are stock Phrases: "idioms." They made me an idiot
About the Spirit world, shooting myself in my own foot (to boot)
So, I pledge to forsake words that speak of death and jovial killing
Because the Being inside us, the BE-ING, is also a "Human Doing"
Nouns:(choose two)
River
Heart
Verbs: (choose two)
Shiver
Gaze
Adjectives:(choose two)
Lush
Tender
Words pour from my pores, a river of light
erasing the shadows of a melancholy
my thoughts tremble, shiver like dew
whose tender trail across each petal, murmuring
expressions reflecting off the melody
lush voice of praise, stirring the heart
who hears the notes of a feeling, blessing away
the ache, grief stricken memories, in flames
passionate, convincing with an earnest gaze
her heart feels like liquid, words given to the past
where fears color her spirit in roaring phrases
meant to penetrate the life, convincing
each thought brings its victory, a sense of gentling
whoever hears her words, breaking out of their shell
compelling souls to listen to the silence
where the wind caresses the stars and invites the moon
glowing in the blackest of black, night sun
sending eventual tempting to the nocturnal
who remembers that everything, despite the storms
will come to hear the voice of One far more alive
than any word can suggest, more vivid
more vibrant than the skies who prevent the rain’s breath
realize that His love is like the answer from the sun
uttering hope, with each trickle of admiration
praise Him… PRAISE HIM… HE IS WORTHY!
more WORTHY than mere words,
more WORTHY than every poem
My heart is beating faster,
As I hear the faint sound of that laughter.
Tickling my senses,
I feel defenceless
As I gaze into your brown eyes—
Alive and wise.
A ghost of your former self,
Like the picture on the shelf,
Tenderly staring at me
As I drop to my knees.
I shiver with cold;
I would give all my gold
To have you alive.
Instead, I’m here—and barely survived
The day you went away.
I stare at my reflection and see more grey.
I give a little smile,
Because you are beside me for a while—
A beautiful young lady,
A part of me.
On Earth or in Heaven, forever,
Together.
(required words; heart, bottle, gaze, shiver, cold, tender)
after his death I was shattered
my soul broken
each day bled into another
and my life was darkness
I put my heart in a bottle
with a shiver for I thought my life was over
I gaze at his picture
on my dresser
and remember our tender love and wedding
but, now I visit a cold grave
with his name engraved
as birds sing in trees a sad song
I leave a red rose