Best Presses Poems
red rooftops appear to glow in rainy-day haze
lost in memories of pre-war bliss
she looks up to watch them bleed
pain is its own reward sometimes
better than the numbness
she so desperately seeks to leave behind
tiny poodle escorts her on La Rue de la Paix
peace has come to Paris at last
but in her heart, agony lingers
she heard the Fuhrer took his own life
cyanide and a bullet, too merciful for a demon
how her sweet Emil must have suffered in the death camp
his last gift to her, a red umbrella to offer shelter
at a time when he so direly needed protection
from horrific torture, starvation, gas chambers
footsteps behind her; she pivots, her poodle barks
what’s this? is rain playing tricks on her eyes?
he presses his lips on hers and she knows
yes, yes, these are Emil’s lips
still clad in a prisoner’s striped uniform, he holds her
she feels his ribs as they embrace
autumn rain soaks the fashion district near their home
while a violinist in a nearby café plays Chant des Partisans
overwhelmed, she wonders, is this a dream or is he home to stay?
*Written November 1, 2018
N/A in The Red Umbrella Contest
Contest judged that 11/13/2018
I’m tired of knowing
That because of my race
Because of where I live
Because of my last name
I’m part of the band…
The children of a lesser God
I’m tired of knowing
That there is so much hate
That it can only escalate
Till someone presses the button
And we blow up in nuclear hate
All because
Some of us are children…
Children of a lesser God
First world
Second world
Third world
Labels and degrees
Different ideologies
Religion no longer a balm
But something to cause harm
Human life of differing values
We mourn them differently
for some of them are children...
Children of a lesser God
How it must make God cry
When His children bleed and die
Unable to understand
That there is a grander plan
One of perfect harmony
In another place in time
He won’t be sitting at heaven’s gate
Asking for an ID
Or checking your nationality
He won’t see the color of your face
Or ask about your race
All He will want to know
Is if you let love grow
Did you live according to His will?
Did you try to relieve suffering and pain?
Were you the bandage of peace
that bound up the wounds of hate?
First, second, third world people
Are all children of one God
Though some may disagree
I ask you all to see
That we are all
Every single one of us...
Children of the Greatest God.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Madame Mistress, ebonies princess,
Southern comforts golden jewel,
A golden beauty down south does dwell.
She hides many secrets beneath her,
Glittering mask of mystery's mystic spells.
A dark priestess is this Cajun queen,
Black widows magic women,
Known as Ms. New Orleans.
In her crimson gown, trimmed by
Velvet's purple hues, she smiles
Behind her white lace fan.
A beguiling angel is she the devils
Own kindred.
The voodoo queen of the swampy delta,
Ruling over the shadow demons,
Whom guard the everglades.
Underneath fancy face and social grace,
Lies the misbegotten heart of a
Witches soul.
Here the trumpets sound at,
La Carnival as minstrels stroll,
Down Bourbon Street with rhythmic,
Precision's precise step.
Come join in celebrations grand parade,
The Maude Gra. Where anything goes,
Here things are forgotten as the sun rises,
This grand lady of beauty's legacy's charm.
Presses one finger to her redden lips,
Speaking not more than a hushed whispers
Sigh carried across bayou.
Thus does the Spanish moss weep, for
Those lost souls swallowed whole,
Beneath nights dark covenant of death.
Ghostly images walk the muddy side shores,
Phantom spectators existing as prisoners,
Trapped in limbos web, a thin fine line
Between the living and the dead.
Beware lone travelers, those for whom,
Seek mysteries glamor and mystic,
Of the southern by ways.
All are welcome to taste our spicy
Hospitality.
Yet beware pay homages respect,
To Mz. New Orleans, she after all takes
Great care of her own.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Abandoned in the fifties after the war
A freight elevator stuck between floors
Obsolete machinery, splintered old chairs
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
Dead air presses down, stifling and thick
Something still dwells behind one of those bricks
Curled up in a ball, it waits for me there
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
A musty gray vapor that whispers my name
It seeps through the wall and creeps to my brain
It sighs and it groans as my soul is laid bare
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
It mumbles and moans and drones of ancient tombs
Of claustrophobic closets and dim, hollow rooms
I cry out for help, echoes answer my prayer
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
The ghost of my lonely, my lost and alone
My hopeless and helpless, my can't go back home
It's looking at me now with a dull, vacant stare
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
yogi comes first
my old companion burr-backed hearth-warmed
his peat-dark spring fur shedding summer’s presence
he lies on the fireplace rug squirrel-dream naps
muzzle silvered as a frost-split hickory post
a soft whine mute devotion
shadowing me keeping a keen watch
honest kind sportive soul
glued to my side even in sickness
another briar-choked ridge
to crest
hunter and chocolate lab
and then gurty
sovereign aloof moon-milk calico-born riddle
velvet paws and stealthy grace
a small Athenian goddess of the numinous
who appears vanishes wistful-eyed
moon fragment star-salt morning breeze
she prowls each rooms edge dust-mice
soft-footed serene indifferent
granting affection, rationing light
withheld offered only the queen knows
a small sheathed killer
making the world right
by choosing not to strike
between them household diplomacy
two philosophies sharing sunbeams
a duet of difference
two cultures thickening smoothing
yogi with his fawning tail-drunk joy
gurty with her vigilance her whisker-quiver
reading each moment for oneness
he presses close
she circles observing rubbing
a synthesis of presence
unconditional
i have seen her groom herself
in the soft ritual of sandy-tongue washing
and him pause trustful patient
her calm steadying him
i have watched them soften
the sandpaper-and-silk
collision
become friends family belonging
where the good life abides
night settles
they lie in parallel lives at my feet
yogi breathing his gentle snore
gurty a moon fragment curled in thought
and i smile loosen breathe
mercy can curl or bound
love a dog’s warm flank-heat
a cats purring sovereign gaze
and the small miracle
of both choosing the same rug
in the same
deepening hour
sweet yo-gurt
I am Your poetry,
the words that warm tide your body,
the pen that presses deep into pulsing paper,
kissing the chaos away from moods of mind that static flicker,
I am your poetry,
born to be the Angel ink you drink,
a taste that flavors your lust fire sinless sultry,
intoxication of obsession spilling true love beyond sanity...
I am your simplicity,
honest moisture in the corner of your open eye,
the Midnight lip bite that awakens desire to breathe deeply,
I overcome questions with answers making your heart joy cry,
My voice proving through vibrational pull I'm Your's exclusively,
I am your tangible simplicity to scry,
hold me as a living prophecy,
I am no secret, I am love's answer to Why...
I am your therapy,
my mouth strong on the center node of your neurodivergant bloom personality,
embracing empatheticly moods unfairly forebode
by a society frightened by a woman's life fire energy,
I am your therapy caressing the code,
learning together a pillar of our love be fidelity,
the psychometrics satisfied to certify our love be never cold...
I am Your fantasy,
the match lit red diamond head
with one lick unleashing your sweet oil wick fury,
a combustion that spreads relentlessly to be fed,
I am your fantasy surging shamelessly,
Your refined nails know my name and I bleed,
a beautiful beast you become, I do not plead, I serve ecstacy,
the truth has teeth, our bodies climax in pure speed...
I am Your Victory,
Your Champion undaunted by the Devil,
I worship your star, kissing the scar, cradling heart teary,
You meet Me on the level of love believing in the eternal,
I am your Victory, a phoenix ready,
You congratulate Me for devotion unconquerable,
My lips touch your hand sure,
You and I forever married...
J.A.B.
phoenix ready,
In the valley of tall golden fire, I rest
listening to the sound of the earth heartbeat.
Africa's eastern breath presses its cheek against mine
as I bask and savor the exotic serene moment.
I listen and watch at the tapestry of wildlife gather,
a world of tranquil beauty.
Together we forge a strong valley,
but still a world of survival; nowhere is truly safe.
4/30/2019
Poetry Contest: 'Writing Challenge 4, May 2019, No Placement'
Sponsored By: Dear Heart
"Lion" received an N/A on 5/3/2019 in the contest; MAY 2019 PREMIER 1 ANY THEME, ANY FORM,UP TO A MAX OF 14
between pages
of biology book
prankster presses worm
AP: 3rd place 2020
Submitted on March 9, 2019 for contest THE BOOK WORM sponsored by KAI MICHAEL NEUMANN - RANKED 1ST
Friends?
Are we still friends?
Can we JUST be friends?!?
Oh such a horrid, charity-stained question!
What a keen and salient dagger it wields!
The pity that you wear like black lace finery,
Is as deadly and whetted a sword as any raised in battle ...
The patronizing look in your eyes presses on its hilt
With the agonizing weight of feigned cordiality,
To pierce the tender flesh of my hopes,
Deep and quick and precise.
Why ... why this last dose of bitter passion??
To ease your careless conscience?
All you've done is make the blade more jagged,
The wound more brutal and raw.
Now here I lay ...
Exhausted in spirit and sinews,
By what I now realize was lovemaking for clemency's sake ...
One last, tender moment to minimize the blow.
Shards of moonlight through the louvers,
Lay like broken pieces of porcelain on furrowed bedclothes,
As my passions bleed out at your feet,
Draining my heart of the realities
Of what I thought we had ...
What might have been, beyond friendship.
My love for you collects in a puddle of one-sided regrets,
And now this dreadful question makes all a travesty,
A mocking, cruel, pitiful farce ...
No, my love, I can NEVER be just ... your friend.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "My Friend, My Love" Poetry Contest, Julie Leigh Rodeheaver, Judge & Sponsor.
His rheumy eyes film over and he brushes away a tear
with the age-spotted back of his hand.
He watches himself as a young man –
handsome, vigorous, full of joie de vivre.
The members of his orchestra now arthritic.
Or ashes long since scattered into oblivion,
like the beautiful soprano in the film.
But for the duration of the archive footage
they are all young again.
The film ends and their philharmonic youth
is silent memory once more.
He struggles to press rewind but his gnarled finger
presses fast-forward by mistake.
He thinks that time has been on fast-forward
and wishes he could find the rewind control for his life.
With a sigh, he presses play and fades away,
watching his immortal youth.
Look! In the distance, I see them again.
Bright and beautiful red bursts fill my eyes
as blue cascades gently fall toward the earth
and golden sprays twinkle like glitter in the sky.
The colors thrill my skin with shivers and chills,
and each loud burst I hear makes me jump with delight.
Always, in the distance, I can see them.
Her smile bursts forth from her crimson lips
as her glistening tears fall from azure eyes
and her flaxen hair sparkles around him.
I see her quiver as she presses against him,
and through her longing I can hear her deep sighs.
Turning away from this tender moment
my mind starts to wonder what's left of my life.
The sadness that fills me with each passing minute
leaves me aching with sorrow and wondering why
such explosions of beauty I see only at a distance, as time slips by.
06/10/16
Let the flags all stop their waving,
Let the traffic lights turn red.
I was informed this morning,
That my best friend was dead.
Let all the world be still,
Stop the sands of time.
Stop the presses, stop the show,
This man was a friend of mine.
Let there be no laughter,
Not even to hide a tear.
You have taken my greatest treasure,
and decided to leave me here.
Life now has no meaning,
there's no project I want to start.
Stop all the things that I once loved,
then stop my beating heart.
>>
I paint pictures with words.
[email protected]
These eyes watch the fierce rain
passing through
as earth moves, vibrating once more
my being shakes again
sensing you
somehow, yes- stronger than before
This heart, the beat quickens
with each sound
breath is taken, and so deeply
air presses, it thickens
I have found
raindrops bring you so close to me
These emotions, my heart
a quick glance
as the wild wind twists in my hair
striving to pull apart
just the chance
of me feeling you, everywhere
------------------------
~ You are in the waters touch ~
Powerful Moments
Form of Poetry~ Tri-fall
The rhyme scheme is a,b,c,a,b,c and meter for each stanza is as follows: 6/3/8, 6/3/8. This form requires little to no punctuation and can be written on any subject matter.
I ache for an esoteric escape ~
to relearn the unwritten rhythm,
lost in the gravity
of your gossamer gaze,
where the sun
no longer dawns
as a sinister star ~
and the dust
of monsoon skies
rains soulful sonatas,
while mellifluous mists
merge with silence,
to paint
a porcelain portrait
that feels like forever ~
not merely
a picturesque prison,
but a place that houses love,
beyond uncertainties
framed in fear…
but now we meet and muse
in the realm of garnet gravels,
a dream delicately composed
in roseate reverie
where this becomes
more than a portrait,
a poem woven with patience,
when heavy is the past
that
pushes, pulls,
presses ~
while leaves sigh and
drift through skies of
autumnal elegance…
I surrender to your balmy blues
the ocean-deep devotion.
I long to devour and remain
consumed
amidst the
boulevard of divine doves
a field of freedom
until every evening
envelops our thoughts
with tender teal ~ timelessness
and soul-prints pulse
and glimmer
tracing twilight’s melodies
like silk-laced stars
spinning through
the cashmere cadence
of everlasting Eden…
A playful rhythm arises from within
It is, it is, oh so mood uplifting
Each breath intake sees joy afresh begin
Light that ignites us, to vast space gifting
The flame of bliss flickers not in the breeze
Vagaries of fate have on us no hold
Throb of rapture we embrace and release
Our luminous aura now flaming gold
Ah! Come on, come nearer, caress sublime
Pristine presence presses forward its case
Reverberates in heart the cosmic chime
Truly love effervescence is God’s grace
Moment to moment all moments entwined ~
Our consciousness is thus by bliss refined