Best Pries Poems
When I see those eyes,
They’re filled with lifeless lies.
It’s no wonder his skin is like ice.
He tells me, “Come closer,”
His promise of wealth wins me over,
But then I see the black blood running through his veins.
He says, “Five years, then it’s time for more games.”
It’s now year six,
This monster finds comfort in the pain he inflicts.
The tormenting things I’ve seen,
His toxicity poisoning my dreams.
It leaves me in a cold, wet sweat.
He steals me away because of a forgotten debt,
My pleas and sorrows pave the path to his inferno.
In the distance I see a burrow,
He leads me down the dark, wet cave,
Fires emerge- I find myself wishing for my grave,
They bathe my eyes, I shut them tight,
But he promises that the fires won’t bite.
I gaze into his Hell engulfed in raging flames,
The fires beckon me closer with their playful games.
My muscles tense and my body aches as his evils fill a dense lake,
The bodies swimming give me life.
I begin to see that maybe he’s all right.
I feel my body start to change,
A wave of power surges my derange.
This Hell pries open up my eyes,
It shows me all of his lifeless lies.
It chills me to my very core,
Just one sip from the sea of dead- and then I will be no more.
The new air I breathe,
The new scent I smell,
It’s almost as if the Earth is now Hell.
He fooled me just once, but the reward so sweet,
Prepare for a fight- I can’t be beat.
He thinks I’m grateful, but he shouldn’t hold his breath,
Remember, “You have the black blood, I have the red.”
The fury I have is stronger yet,
He’s about to regret that forgotten debt.
I’m losing control as reality slips,
This boiling being flips the switch.
I see a reflection- surely it can’t be me,
Those must be his lifeless eyes rippling back at me.
My stomach twists and my head spins,
But I’m on a mission that requires a win.
I’m in a dark hole- there’s no turning back,
With one swift whack, I put a knife in his back.
catalyse of chalk
circles sooted box, reveals
the vortex inside
stakes open her eyes
pries into her private life
draws blood with madness
insists a deep cut of ties
a vampire’s bite sucks
glistens under moon-lightning
with darkening of iris
the rectangle shut
and discomforting inside
the satin lining
that swaddles her until when
feeds the lack of blood pressure
buried in the earth
instead of mausoleum
means she is fated
until flood rains dredge her up
bitterly famished and ripe
her tormentor’s plot
enjoying her plight of pangs
and her screaming fangs
that engulf her first victim
she begs a silver bullet
…and who will shoot first
the gun, with no reflection,
or the too-white teeth?
does lover want to join her
or distribute her ashes?
the two quick rounds nail
tormentor, his protogé
bloodthirst vanishes
end of bad day, sky’s crimson
and the hungry are looming.
Jesus replied, “Foxes have holes
and birds of the air have nests,
but the Son of Man has no place
to lay his head.” Matthew 8:20 NIV
PLACE OF RESPITE
Cheek-tinge of pink dawning in the murky skies.
Blandness of deep-earthed bark, stretching,
touched by birdsong…long overdue, it pries
the stirring of tinctures, heart-revival fetching.
The soft cooing of dove-white countenance
behind the adventurous arms of upright praise.
The milky colorant, the soothe of boundlessness,
heaven’s face — the wise eyes of Jesus’ blaze.
Crustose lichen of green, subtle stripes of peel,
signature branch-sketch, by God’s hand, varicose
leans into his every word — his glory-heel
at cross-times past, every blood path, bellicose.
Eureka! I once again, open my ears to golden notes.
Why is chirping so charming? …like an angelic shake,
the bell one or many…the beckon from furry coats,
unseen-existence b’neath the heaven’s silver lake.
The light brightens on the horizon, a New Year shines
through the I’m-glad-I’m-home-steal-my-heart blinds
Familiar bittersweets and blues, buttercup-yellows, signs
that love is close of hand and hearth, most oft’ kind.
1/4/2022
The lightning strikes and all is dark,
the Lock Ness Monster is about to embark
on a journey along the ocean’s shore,
more diligent and courageous than before.
She is strength and beauty combined,
a delicate creature, so hard to find.
Her head crept above the water quiet yet stark.
She strolled through the mounts with might,
ready for the battle of any nightly fight.
No one could mess with the immense Lock Ness,
and I admire her colossal power nonetheless.
She’s redeemable, stupendous and severely tough,
wearing leather skin so resilient and rough.
She’s my favorite mythical creature, I must confess.
Brawn and firm with a head that slithers,
her veins always hydrated, they never wither.
Fading under the moonlight she slides under water,
sleek and stealth like her mother taught her.
Never stops swimming, she’s aquatic that way,
only pries at night, never during the day.
Never once has a great white shark fought her.
Long necked with stamina and vitality,
with an original and intense personality.
Muscular and sturdy with gazing eyes,
a tawdry creature with a slippery disguise.
Potent by nature with energy and force,
always swimming on the righteous course.
She’s got a puissant form, intelligent and wise.
The lightning strikes and all is dark,
her head crept above the water...
quiet yet stark.
Loch Ness Poetry Contest
January 4th, 2017
========================
Through dark rainfalls,
how can I sleep?
A nightmare crawls
through dark rainfalls!
It pries the walls
and tries to seep
through. Dark rain falls...
How can I sleep?
========================
====================
What will the rain say?
It falls the day your father goes to ground
and palls all hope he loved you anyway,
as it recalls the countless flaws he found.
What will the rain say?
That while it stormed your port had served her best
but when again it warmed, love sank away
like long forgotten treasure in her chest?
What will the rain say?
When you must keep it out to stay afloat
but drowning doubt seeps through your saddened bay
and leaks into your solitary boat?
What will the rain say?
When water pries your soaking seams undone,
then tries to rise above your head today?
Will you still cry for one last ray of sun?
And what will the rain say...
====================
I’m put upon to ponder the problem of poetry
& thus, I proudly or, perhaps, perfunctorily,
Ponderously pronounce with a preponderance,
Even a plethora, of p’s:
Poetry is pithy, prankish and perky,
Pertinent and impertinent, too
It’s prophetic, pathetic, pragmatic and proud
Poetry pretends, preaches, points out,
Points to, and down, and under
Poetry’s petals promise purity and peace
Poetry’s pristine, picky and pale
Poetry is practical, prudent, is pregnant,
Gives pause
Poetry’s precise, prayerful, powerful
Poetry’s presence is portentious and playful
Poetry’s a mosaic portrayal, a
Painted portraiture, perfect, profane
Prosaic, it is not,
Preposterous, it is
It is ponderous, political, porous, pontifical
Peripatetic and perennial,
Prescient, pedantic, possessive and puerile
Perfidious, perceptible, perplexing, perfectible
Poetry perseverates, preserves, perseveres
Sometimes perplexing, never perishable,
It pulses it prowls, it probes and it pries
Poetry is a perverse, precocious, pubescent prankster
It prances, and preens periwinkle plumage
In place of deep purple prose
A persuasive, peculiarly pleasant peacock,
Poetry promulgates poems!
Poetry, dear poet, exists
Poetry, dear poet, persists
Poetry, dear poet, persists and preoccupies
Poetry can never desist
Poetry perpetually propagates poems
And that
is the problem
with poetry…
Phew!!!
On a dive to wreck of good ship "Soul"
I noticed a door locked tight.
Over I swam to peer inside a keyhole
Expecting it be blocked up tight.
In shock I pulled eye back in awe.
For I saw an eye in hole
Staring right back at me through door
Eye to eye, delving within, soul to soul.
I looked again; alien eye had move well away.
As I stared the eye returned
On head of blue-ringed octopus it lay.
A human eye on Cephalopod head adorned.
The shock recalled a memory long lost
Of a lover's deeply piercing eyes
Always there poised to engage, accost
With suckered arms through keyhole poised for pries.
She walks with pride,
Maybe she thinks of herself as queen.
It can happen with time,
Her mind plays a wicked game.
But nonetheless, I’m cynical of Polly.
With every click and flash she gives a sly smile,
Doesn’t anyone else notice?
Am I getting a wrong picture?
But then she winks at me.
She makes me mad, I’m cynical of Polly.
As the press pries prudently into Polly,
She rejects their questions with her steely eyes.
Head held so high, she can’t see it,
People cry in despair, doesn’t reach her ear.
She just doesn’t care, oh, I’m cynical of Polly!
All she knows is her precious votes,
Counting them on her fingers “One, two, three….”
Flings her purse, strides down the stairs,
Her heels ready to crush some souls.
She is evil in disguise. Damn right, I’m cynical of Polly.
The rich bow down to her, she has that aura,
I despise her but I envy her.
To have that power, I would go mad too,
Won’t I just do anything to be in her shoes?
She dazzles me yet I’m cynical of Polly.
a black shadow pries...
her earthly music floating
the moonlight dance
Sheer magic and miracles of art forms spring:
Passionate whispers of charming surreal sights
Visionary delights that fine finesse flings.
Fantasy art pries hidden realms in clear sight,
Touch of genius in full spectrum strikes a pose:
Crazy encounters of clashing wonder lights!
Vast memorabilia of craft that expose
Vantage views that highlight the vast mystery
Contrast and shades and hues and tints dare impose.
Art imagineers vivid imagery,
Fine creative brush plays with mental collage:
Fantasy confronts crazy reality.
Clear strokes exaggerate with focus enlarged,
Surreal aspects of fantasy revealing
Possibilities of visions that massage.
Experience the brilliance in art expressing,
Indulge all senses in vibrant renderings.
Leon Enriquez
05 Mar 2014
Singapore
Strobes peek in through curtains drawn,
The pulsing lights of twelve past dawn,
Moon's gone fishing behind indigo cloud,
Dragging moaning fogs in August shroud,
Sobbing woes to concrete unforgiving,
Still providing for all that's living,
So is it sadness that here ends drought,
Or only kindness though given in doubt?
I am merely but one breath on evening rest,
At most a heartbeat chiming thunder abreast,
And only gazing in lights rendered skies,
From my grasp of insanity this night pries,
I'll give my life my love my sleep,
If only this recluse serene air to keep,
I'll let shuddered tears come wash away,
The woes and troubles of mid-summers day.
Ask to gain insight
through poet’s sighs answer pries
open to adore
Tried to say more than a haiku allows
(aloud)
Reflection
Leaf drops in nearby pond,
Sun rays reflect upon blue water where looks like diamond.
Round shaped disc rotating on surface of water.
Sun rays pries into bamboo leafs to catch lights of shower.
Where amazing round balls moving and moving upon water.
Splendid lights falls on; looks like water of round shaped flower.
Try to grasp lights upon water but waves there.
Reflect sunlight somewhere.
Lonely place is there.
Nature takes charm here.
Blue water glitters till sunset where sun-rays pries into bamboo leafs.
Later on water will not glitter in darkness.
Saroj khan[sakha]
Two true taboo nocturnal friends
Bedeviling the vernal places;
Un-men unto un-town's undead ends,
Under wrinks in mansworld's faces;
Take care me boys, wear Wolfrat clothes -
Make sure you're tooled - tooths fully bloodied?
Put yer foot in ther gutter that 'Overworld' loathes,
Splosh mirror truths Ministers muddied.
Rah, in the street-wright night-boy club!
Be prey, but with Lionheart essence!
The hungry punk-hunt shade that coin-eye pub;
Beware those sado-mermaid's fluorescence!
Beware those sirens, strident scribes,
Evade the Lamp-rayed Hag of Hoar!
Abhor the barb'ry boo's of the Boozeblooded Tribes,
Fear the Head-Rider's ritual roar!
And hide from those trackening opal eyes,
through which blind the Lopeful Coghagi pries -
You must weather the trail of the Bufferjudge Snail,
Whose pregnant tongue licked dead your railbridge braille.
*
Go, but beware every towner! fearless be, me boys!
Your game plays real monsters, that dread light-world's lost toys.
Go, snuck under covers, worlds without Mothers, going down,
Below bewildered barrowers in semi-detached mounds -
Over crows' roads, to ausider's ground
To un-town's electrical woods
To the alleycaves icebound ancestor's found
Where Messy-'A's were named in saints hoods.
In those estates of homeless air,
Cracktheadrals of drizzle in stars,
Go, urchins - nuke town to show you are there,
Re-score the old world's oldest scars!
Bring plaster peace, scrawl boundaries,
Two Pilgrim imps watch n sign posts -
Dripped under zipped walls of all crawling sundries,
Crossing the Freightmines of neon-roped ghosts.
With your chats, plans, laughs, paths run,
Why do it, ink 'round them Weird Wenders?
You scorned ghouls fly there for glorious fun
As humans - not those over-town pretenders.
Then, minxing in, to light world
Where un-town and-town blend
Hide your goblin masks, your darkness of pens -
And part home with big hugs, as any-world friends.