Best Poring Poems
Endearing the gods of enlightenment, dip tenderly into the rainbows
Color band of intrinsic light, softly breathing, as the hushed breath of
A morning doves first coo of life, the lotus flower does blossom and bloom.
Infusions delicate creation floating in the still pond of the everlasting,
Drifting, swaying at the mercy of life's strife, yet in harmonious peace
Its beauty remains perfections timeless jewel, sparkling beneath the mid-eastern
Sun.
Bending does the reddest rose, yielding it's petals to the keepsakes heart
Most sacred inner place, a whirl winds tidal storm of emotions contemplation
Point of origin, it bleeds with a crimson preciousness,
Tangled are the vines woven to and fro, but rich is the human soul.
Floating, cascading cherry blossom's dance, amongst the winds of
Destiny's air, ever gently whispering of loves softness, comforting warmth
Within the arms of lovers devotional vows.
These are the delicate tokens of the for-get-me-knots, showering of the
Lotus, a blending emergence, behold the feminine
Oh let the captive sparrow sing so softly the notes of spring, let her soar
Amongst the eternal skies of white clouds beneath liberation's whitest
Wings of grace.
Upwards, lifted upwards to touch and caress the distant sun above,
Little bird spread your delicate appendages, lie thy offering of the lotus
Leaf before the divine, and may it appease the God's, from which it draws
Life itself from be thy finest gift ever sacrificed,
Tender are their tears are shed, for she the sparrow of mortality.
Exhalted amongst the stars in the very heavens on high,
A beauty figure thus stands, poring the water of life into the deep
Rivers of the universe, and behind her ear lies a lotus blossom.
That blooms eternal.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Looking over my northern shoulder
at the changing shades of day
a weak winter sun turning twilight grey
teardrops of rain on the window
the gentle sigh of the wind
storm clouds in the evening sky
bring it all back again
poring over unwritten letters
in the solitude of night
a dim lit candle shining star white light
telephone silent unanswered
candlelight quietly dimmed
unwritten letters to no one
start it all over again
I don't want to be lonely
for the rest of my life
and if I love you only
will you stay by my side
Do you always get burned
When you play with fire?
Must you always
Extinguish your desire?
Not to open Pandora’s box
Yet gave the key for me unlock.
You cleaver fox
This box unlock.
For in its contents
I did find
Such confusion for my mind
For out come poring
Contradict emotion flowing
Knew you well
Resist could not
Not to open Pandora’s box
Gave the key
Now take it back
This temptation
I shall free
Free I shall
You from me
For swear I do
And oath forged forth
This desire
extinguish not ignite.
With water held
High in hand
Pouring onto what
Burns within.
Burns under my skin
Revealed too thin
Weakness overcome
Deliverance from.
From this cleaver fox
Custodian Pandora’s box.
Held within content
dreams of nights embrace
Filled and emptiness
Dreams of loves illusion
Lost in passion confusion
Dreams to reality
Never to make
For both to know
To much at stake.
Long love day's has past.
My mind felt with howling storms,
grasping to hold on to vanishing love.
Rape and abandon my weary soul
transpires, poring with instant fires.
Oh this dark secret love does thy life
destroy.
Like amorous birds of pray,
Once ways, and known devoured
Your beauty no more to befound
nor shall the sound of your voice.
Love to dust, love to ashes.
Our love has now gone to a private place.
The grave yard of love.
Spare change was rare at our house when I was a lad,
But you could bet on it, when I got a quarter from my Dad,
I didn't blow it on mundane things like a baseball or a mitt!
I flew to the local Five and Dime to buy a model airplane kit!
The store shelves were piled high with model planes galore!
Spitfires, Hurricanes, Mustangs, Thunderbolts and many more!
The man at the counter patiently waited 'til I made my selection.
I needed the perfect specimen to add to my vast collection!
I set up my shop in the seclusion of our cozy attic,
Sanding, painting, gluing and poring over the schematic.
In isolation if things went awry, I could utter a cuss word or two,
Without Mom yelling, "Son, I don't know what's to become of you!"
From the ceiling of my room hung dozens of the things,
Each floating aloft supported by delicate gossamer wings!
How oft I'd lie abed dreaming of flight, sensing total elation,
Freed from earthly bonds, soaring above the beauty of Creation!
Assembling balsa wood planes required a certain degree of skill.
Nowadays, they're hard to find and cost a twenty-dollar bill!
The plastic models of today are realistic but will never compare,
To building your very own creation and releasing it in the air!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Entry for Frank H.'s "A Childhood Memory" Contest
Let's play a game, shall we?
It's a fun little number I like to call
"Do I miss you because I love you,
or because you're my brain's scar tissue?"
Let's review the facts, shall we?
You're a spoiled NEET who took pleasure from my pain
From making me bend over backwards
And watching my free will vanish
Like a parasite, you latch on to everyone
Begging for gifts and food like a child
Passive-aggressively plotting when you don't get your way
And everyone gives in to get you to shut up
By all accounts, you're a horrible person
So tell me why, tell me why
Why do you still haunt my dreams at night?
Why does the thought of losing you still hurt me so?
You're like heroin
Because man, doing lines of you through the night
Was the greatest high when the trip was fine
And the comedown was so fierce
So here I lay, sweating yet freezing
Dope sick and hungover after the greatest afterparty
Craving another hit to feel the ceiling again
Gently gnawing on my twelfth step chip
But you weren't always that way, you know
The love we shared was once pure
And each day was a blessing that I'd give so much to return to
And I think that's the you that I miss
But hey, that person died two years ago
You wore her skin so well that I didn't realize
That I still had a body to bury
Before you skinned it and wore it
More often than not, it's the pure memories I recall
When I'm clutching my phone with my thumb above the send key
And another withdrawal pang hits my temple
And jolts my thumb to the clear key
So where are you now?
I can't imagine I'm in a much better place right now
Eating my fourth cup of cup noodles tonight
Poring over a broth stained essay
It's comforting to share a pitiful existence with you
Because in a weird way, I feel more connected with you than ever
Sharing a loving, tender kiss across time and space
As we both scoop the last shrimp from the bottom of the cup
But each cup leads me closer to my dream
As you stagnate at home
Self-actualization is a difficult concept to measure
But your NEET dream dies with the last of your savings
The sun rises and the glare from the screen hits my eyes
Another frosty December morning
Through the sight of the rising sun and the scars you left behind
For now at least, you and I are forever intertwined.
Apples and oranges are different
It must be the color
They sell at markets at low prices
Along with all other fruits and vegetables
Who have no souls to bargain for
Atheist to the core
Kissed by the sun for warmth
When apples and oranges are pressed for information
Truth and juice ooze from their pores
A real taste for justice must be explored and savored
When cut into slices
Displayed at parties openly
You find out what they really are
But the difference between oranges and apples
Poring over and over again in the mind
Remains a mystery
Oranges are orange
But why are apples red
It must be their color
But that's just a guess
It's raining, it's poring
I wonder what God is doing
As I lay in my bed I listen to the rain
Dancing on my Window pane
Loud thunderstorms slamming strongly, and aggressive across the sky
Some of you run for cover, and stay inside
But as for me I would rather be out
In the dark, gloomy, and wild winds
Because for a wounded and weary soul
That when the healing process begins
You may think I'm crazy but let me explain
I've always thought that the thunderstorms comes because God is upset, and tired of seeing all of the scum, and riff raff
Here in the world sinning
So he bring on the thunderstorms to clean up the mess that the devil has left
And give all on the sinners new beginnings
So the thunder represents the voice of God speaking to Satan
Leaning on him for all of the confusion the he has start
Then the lighting represents the knock punch the God has laid on Satan and leaving him broken hearted
So I go outside to allow the rain drop to fall on my head
To cleanse me from head to toe
From some of the devilish things that I've did
I stand there drenched in his fresh anointing
Allow the winds to blow new life upon me
So if you see me outside when the storm comes don't look at me strange
But you should join me
So we both can be blessed
Outside in the rain
By NSIDEOUT
Night moves over ocean
Vapor trails the sky
The moon sets full
then cuts in half
and stars fill the night
The forest is kissed
by the poring rain
and the smell
brings me back to
from where I came.
A windless rain,
Poring of green,
Effervescent kisses,
Pigment on the lips.
Concupiscence silence,
Every moment it whispers,
Voiceless vacuum,
Like the noise of silk clothing,
Or leaves blowing in the wind.
I scream for help but no one comes I slit my wrist from elbow to thumb I see the blood
poring down my fingers going numb but still you did not come
I feel my heart brake over again as I re-read the last thing you ever said
you were the stitchers that held me as one now your gone I cant go on
you were my heart beat you kept me alive now you leave me hear to die but why ?
I called for you with tears in my eyes but all you did was walk straight by
I told you I needed you but you ignored my pleas
I told you that you were every thing to me but now do you see that its to late to save me
If only you saw that things were not right and I wasn’t crazy all toughs nights
I asked you if you could hear them too but you said it was me just being a fool
It wasn’t me it was you
I said I was sad but you just got mad
I begged for you to take me to a place for help but you every time you drove straight by as
if what I had said was a lie
Do you wish now that you saw the signs that all was not right all toughs times
I knew I was sick but not in a way that I would get over in a day
You could of saved me but your only concern was with your self I hope now you have
learned
And in time you will forgive me but you left it to late I followed my fate
But one last thing I will let you know I am not afraid of my self any more .
Do not ignore the signs of depression help them be for its to late
dedicated to Kerry
The literal closet in which she dreamed
Visions of a world that outside teemed
Whilst poring over texts and theories
Cocooned her life from freedoms’ wine,
The taste of which fermented bright
In the chrysalis cauldron of her mind.
The motors that hummed beneath her skin,
The restless throb that pulsed within
Desired release to spread her wings,
For soon the spring brought summer after
As greyest days she turned to sunshine
By way of gentle wit and laughter.
The butterfly girl one glorious morning,
Felt the joy of life transforming,
And she cast aside the red-brick past,
As beauty reigned upon her form,
She chased the pleasure that is life,
And soared beyond the rain and storm.
For now the future beckoned glowing,
The earth in splendour hers for knowing,
Even though she gleaned vulnerability
And how she all too easily cried,
She prepared to engage the roughness of life,
Betrothed to the world a butterfly bride.
There's not a cloud in the pristine Colorado sky,
But for a myriad of feathery contrails left by airplanes flying high.
I wonder from whence they came and what are their destinations,
As they form arrow-straight patterns of many variations.
They're probably having lunch now, the proverbial pretzels and coke,
The pilot ever alert with steady hands upon the yoke.
What a view that must be from thirty-thousand feet,
Especially for those lucky folks who have a window seat!
What dramas, I muse, are being played out among those aboard.
Some read, others snooze, others keep glazed-eyed seat mates bored!
Harried moms trying to keep their kids from going berserk;
Stressed-out business travelers poring over reams of paper work!
A lonely soldier at a window seat stares dolefully out in to space,
Holding in his heart the memory of his sweetheart's last embrace.
A newly minted grandmother whose face is just a-beaming,
Going to see the new-born babe for whom she has been dreaming!
With clenched white knuckles, tense first-time flyers abound.
A newly-wed pair exchange a kiss, not caring who's around!
The silvery jet speeds upon its way, the contrails dissipate,
With travelers anticipating joyous reunions awaiting them at the gate!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
An orange glow flew through the sky
Image going really high
Down south
Nasty weather would not shut its mouth
Spitting in a poring way
Angry clouds having lots to say
Sitting in the atmospheric stands
Threatening thundershowers being told they were fans
Meteorological temper tantrum at hand
Releasing a loud bark
Turning the area a little dark
Frustrated firing off weak electrical sparks
Two men sit in their galactic quarters
Safety depended on by questions from reporters
Challenging the power's belief
Simmering heat
Breaking out
Brightness overpowering the grey watery pouts
“Let it go”
Sunshine wanted ugliness to know
Blessing the green light for the show
To the modernization
Of human transportation
Suddenly the candle rocket flame did its thing
Sending the educated earthling
On a test flight fling
Picking up Old Glory bringing her home
After being in orbit all alone
As for the angels they quit bowling
Making a fuss roaring and rolling
Maybe it was the guttering strikes
While the sun gave human minds the floor and mikes
Today another chapter has been open
Making many hoping
There is something out there
Who really cares?
About our extra galaxy affairs
Leaving us no fear
To understand why we are here
This world can be a nice place
Respecting other wishes is a simple task to face
Learning not to invade another’s path
Since this action will only bring a furious wrath
Instead sit back and listen
Quietly reflect on other’s space mission
The shaman speaks of plants to see,
other cosmic dimensions energy.
The Zulu’s stamp dance the ground,
working the earth to a drumming sound.
Smokes from many ashes taken in breath,
medicine pipe presenting the living death.
Monks in high altitude poring colored sand,
a new wheel of time mandala grand.
The Sufi in a poetic conclusion rhyme,
reasons to everything - in its perfect time.
The Runes of Nordic legacies,
and its roots of testing integrities.
The Sangoma takes one to the very edge,
and something closer to the truth is wedged.
Distilled elixir from the Alchemist to turn,
working matter and spirit discern.
Wind carries it in its womb,
natures nursing care and thereof bloom.
Akasha's force due cosmic balance act,
shadows of inner reality fact.
The love that manifests as tolerance,
heals wounds of hearts in forgiveness.
Scriptures of kindled souls and its struggles,
when quickening the heart by dominance.
Pondering prayers and golden fine thread lining,
homewards all souls in absolute defining.