Best Protruded Poems
One dark night takes me on a ride to an isolated hill where I inhale unpleasantness ..
Wide gleamy monstrous gate opens as the mighty wind blows,
creepy ferns crawl all over the floor.
Eerie garden awaits the lost lover's presence;
There stands a haunted home with a grubby porch at the entrance.
The magnanimous door welcomes me unwaveringly;
To the right there's slaughter hall polished with blood stains.
On the wall, hung portrait of a lady wearing a long red gown with a silver hat and a golden rosette stapled;
Beside protruded, a yearning window decorated by cob webs;
To the left led staircase ,as I step on railing, it crackles like hatching eggs; Carefully I manage to reach the first floor and confronted a quiet room occupied by constant whispers & spine-chilling whimpers...I slowly move inside and envision nothing strange,but I feel something moist dripping on my cheeks from the roof above.
When I look up, the entire strong ceiling collapses,
disembodied spirit arises,floating on air,observes the decaying house from a distance.
14-7-2020
~Deepa. V~
First place in the contest:-)
Note: Decaying house Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by A Dear Heart(Constance)
Previous Poems Protruded
Two previous poems protruded from my mind
Then to many more facts I became resigned
What I had looked for often and found
Is much happiness in those all around.
Lack of love was leading cause of insanity
And it has always been known to all humanity
When it is only my poems which you prefer
This could be know to cause and create a stir.
Poems from God were granted with gratitude
On some parts of bodies have been tattooed
Like good weather which they are forecasting
My poems are appreciated and also everlasting.
With a great memory possessed by your mind
Would you my beloved friend be so kind
After killing and insanity is brought to a halt
Kindly with much pleasure, please pass the salt.
Does this remind you of one of those seagoing movies?
It was something about ten items in the Bible which I
often have a hard time mastering. Jim Horn
I walked across the pasture green
In search of something yet unseen
And as I reached the hill's crest
What I saw below I felt truly blest.
I very carefully made my way down
Toward the little grove of trees I'd found
Anxious to see what they did hide
I gently pushed the brush aside.
The atmosphere did suddenly change
The green canopy kept the heat away
As And the coolness settled round
I heard the birds chirping sound.
A movement to my right caused fear
Not quite sure of what was near
Until his antlers I did see
And realized he wasn't sure of me.
As I gazed into his eyes
I thought I heard him breathe a sigh
And as I smiled and stepped past
It seemed to put his mind at rest.
In shafts of light scattered here and there
Wild flowers could be found
Dancing on the gentle breeze
Spreading pollen all around.
I sat beside a flowing river
In grass of carpet green
Soon the little lady bugs
Were resting on my jeans.
A hefty branch protruded
From the river's edge
And as I watched ten little turtles
Found themselves a place to rest.
As they basked in the sun
They seemed so at peace
Until a pesky magpie
Dive bombed them from a tree.
As I watched natures wonders
I heard a shrill scream.
Suddenly I realized I am all alone
I reached into my pocket
And took out my cell phone.
The thunder pounded in the night,
impending storm, a tension felt.
The darkness trembled with delight
as clouds protruded like a welt,
and air with trepidation dealt.
The thunder pounded in the night,
and lightning flashed across the sky.
The anxious night was glowing bright;
anticipations running high
as lovers gazed into their eyes.
The thunder pounded in the night,
and rain came pouring from above.
The room was heavy with storm’s might
as gale force winds gave pair a shove
while yielding to this night of love.
The thunder pounded in the night;
their bodies now as one conform
with passion burning, fires ignite.
But now a calmness starts to form,
yet calm is just the eye of storm…..
January 9, 2019
One Autumn afternoon, I was forced to stall.
Across the street on a corner lawn very small,
stood a tree most beautiful and noticed by all.
Each fall I enjoyed its breathtaking autumn display.
That is, until four years ago when I moved away.
Its memory arrested and captured me a few days ago.
I was compelled to drive through my old neighborhood to experience once more that autumn tree, one of my favorite shows.
But when I arrived and turned the corner, I was saddened because that lovely tree, once so generously covered with orange leaves, was no longer there.
Its unsightly root system protruded above ground and disfigured the small lawn. It was then I understood why the tree had to go; but still, I regretted that I could no longer stare. I shall not forget those few years and brief moments we shared. It seemed that tree and I embraced each other with such a neighborly care.
11062016 Poetry Soup
Flames roared through the nights sky.
A glimpse of blue still protruded through the flames.
The heat warmed the mortals below.
They believed that this was a great night.
The sky emulated a beautiful red color.
The color was extraordinary with remnants of blue.
They believed that they were all safe.
They were not nearly as safe.
They were witnessing Armageddon.
The war between good and evil.
For no one is safe until judgment day.
That is the day when the sky will forever remain blue.
The birds will sing a tune.
The flowers will bloom.
That will be the day.
The day when we will all be ok.
That tall professor
Taught us literary criticism,
Himself a competent critique;
Often quoted Shakespeare,
Iqbal, Mir and Rumi.
Looked really worried
For the unnoticed evils in society,
Wrinkled his nose,
Protruded his lips.
And I would recall with love
The Utopian society,
The two romantic-poet-friends talked of.
And once I showed him in his office
A short picnic-poem,
He said,
Ok! But improve your Thematic Concern.
And when I asked to please explain,
His unwashed, perhaps Peon
Interferingly said,
“It is easy! Bigger themes means
Subjects, a society’s benefited somehow!”
Has drawn all the bills
And left unknown, with a mere message
Through the coordinator,
“I have finished all their course of lectures.”
Ah! In twenty-minutes’ three lectures.
Docs words repeated over and over in his head,
“And then I’ll cease to exist, I’ll… be dead.”
He shivered as he lit up a smoke,
The news seemed like an April fool joke.
He looked back through the glass door,
As he watched his son of ten, playing on the floor.
He turned away when he felt the pain under his vest,
From the cancerous wound that protruded from his chest.
It made his world begin to indiscriminately spin,
His legs shook violently as if his spirit tried to break out his skin.
He dropped heavily to his knees
And looked up saying “Not yet, God please”
“Give me a little more time with my little one,”
“To explain it to my son”
A white light for a split second flashed around him
From a flying object up high that shot out this beam
He was stunned for a short while
Then suddenly felt his chest and began to smile
The cancer was removed from his chest
“I’m healthy and strong like the rest”
He turned to tell the happy new to his son
But instead he didn’t see anyone
Opening the door, he called for his son and his wife
Suddenly he was hit by a man carrying a knife
The intruder was a soldier or that’s how he dressed
As they wrestled the knife plunged in his chest
He screamed, “Please don’t hurt my son John,”
The intruder’s eyes showed that something was wrong.
And what he said was stranger still
He called out “Dad is that you?” which gave him an eerie chill.
The intruder said “But how can this be?”
“You went missing 25 years ago you see”
“One minute you were smoking out side the next you were gone,”
He gasped for air as he lay dying on the lawn
The stranger looked up “Please God, I can’t loose my father all over again!!!”
But this time there was not light
as the
life
began
to
drain….
The Magical Epiphany of an Old Rusted Can
whilst out hiking one day in a countryside area
that was quite desolate and remote from any nearby
city, I discovered, amazingly, an Old Rusted Can
that was at least two-liter-sized and was partially-buried
in a long dried-out river bed in the middle of nowhere
this Old Rusted Can protruded out upright at about a
twenty-degree right-slant with some jagged-edges all
along its circular lip
its striking physical presence and the way in which it
was positioned, still partially-filled with dried river
sediment, for me, bespoke some sort of an old artifact
of sorts, yet it was the only object like it right in the
middle of this long dried-out river bed
its unique silhouette was, at once, quite discernable at
a distance on the horizon as it casted a very curious and
most soulful shadow under the limitless canopy of the
late-morning sunlight
although it was very rusted, this Old Can actually
reflected radiant light rays at various times when it
was touched by the rays of the bright sunlight as it
ascended to its customary cosmic dominance in the
late-morning sky
it also had five certain hole punctures located front
and back, in its upper-area, from whence the bright
sunlight reckoned a kaleidoscopic effect of sorts as
the sunlight touched and passed through each of these
unique apertures that were arrayed on this Old Rusted
Can
inelegant as this Old Rusted Can was—this unexpected
and most unusual light-show lasted for several minutes
until the darkened clouds overhead blocked out all of
the bright sunlight for the rest of the morning
yet, I just couldn’t help but feel the true divine presence
of Almighty God Himself—as I had fervently focused on
every aspect and precise detail of this radiant and very
unusual light-show which presented a magical sense and
aura of empyrean enchantment
and whilst I continued my deep gaze at this Old Rusted
Can, I was simultaneously and singularly transfixed by
the utter majesty and true joy of the holy epiphany it had
presented to me. I thought for a moment . . . God does
indeed, relate to us, at times, in very mysterious ways!
Amen! Amen!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 21, 2018 (Imagism)
Salmon Run
A flurry of reds emerges distorted from the river;
As the Sockeye Salmon return from the ocean,
Following the scent of their home stream water,
Swimming upstream to the place of their birth,
In this, their final act is to propagate the species.
During this migration, the salmon consume no food,
But depend on their stored body fat reserves.
The salmon flesh is red due to the krill they eat,
and this pigment moves to the skin where they absorb their scales,
as the flesh turns white, an indication of their health.
They endure the struggle over falls, up rapids,
and past man-made structures and predators,
To reach the spawning grounds of their creation.
The name originates from the Pacific Indigenous people
Salish languages,
Who called them ‘Suk-kegh’ meaning red fish after their colour.
For centuries, the Coastal tribes ancestral heritage
fished Sockeye for sustenance;
And traditions believed all living things were once people.
To them, the Sockeye symbolizes determination,
renewal, and prosperity.
Frantically, grotesque looking fish splash furiously.
The females in a frenzy sweep their tails to make beds,
While males await excitedly defending their mate.
Ready to move in between them and the nest;
To fertilize the eggs that are about to be laid.
They didn’t always look this way; with the upper portion
of the snout,
Elongated protruded over the bottom as if hooked-jaw
With long fang teeth and greenish hued heads,
And red pigmented bodies with thick leathery skin;
With a hump on their back that makes them appear freakish.
The juveniles remain in the fresh water until mature.
Then swim out into the ocean for two to three years,
before returning to repeat the cycle.
Steely silver blue tinted colour with white bellies,
And heads of natural proportions to the rest of their
sleek, transparent scaled bodies,
Torpedo shaped, magnificently gorgeous for a fish.
Shouts of jubilation as
They drink the sour milk,
Milked from dead cows.
Dancers moving
Gracefully with cups of
Vinegar at hand.
Belching out foul odour,
Remaining unaware and
Unperturbed.
Children with protruded
Eyes and stomachs
Screaming wildly out of
Excitement?
At a corner,sits one with
Supple body on golden
Throne with choiced
Ladies.
He bellowed
Instructions,as meat of
Sorrow and wine of tears
Are shared.
"This is the promised-land
Merry!"
Indeed they merry,for
A norm it has become.
Some danced with mixed
Feelings,hoping the
Pregnant tomorrow will
Birth a brighter future.
Fingers crossed,if the
Actualization of their
Dream will be reality or an
Illusion.
As I tried to pull her along with me and our eyes started adjusting to the darkness,
we realized that she was not suffering from some sort of paralysis. Instead, a pair
of large harry hands protruded through the sidewalk and were each wrapped
around one of her ankles.
I am not sure why, but I unzipped my pants and started to urinate on the hands.
“What are you doing”, cried my girlfriend, full of fear.
“Our urine is like acid on their skins”, I answered, not really sure how I knew this.
She stared at me with a quizzical look on her face as if she, too, was afraid to ask
how I knew that – fearful of what my answer might be.
As the skin burned off the large hands, my girlfriend was able to step free and we
started running down the darkened city street.
Off in the distance was a barely perceivable blinking red light marking the
destination I was heading for. Even though it felt like we were running in place and
in slow motion, the red light grew larger and larger with each lethargic step.
Finally, we reached our destination. It looked like a domed baseball stadium
hovering five feet off the ground. I approached a door-like structure and
yelled, “Permission to enter the ship” – only the sounds that came out of my mouth
were strange bleeps and blips.
“No humans allowed”, boomed from the spaceship in the same bleeping language
that I had just used.
“It’s okay – she’s with me”, I responded. My girlfriend took a step back, stared at
me with terror in her eyes – eyes that then rolled back as she started to fall in a
faint.
Just in time, I stepped toward her and grabbed her before she crashed onto the
ground. Her weight and momentum took me down with her in a soft landing with
me cushioning her fall.
It was then that I awoke to find my girlfriend on top of me having somehow aroused
me enough to be pleasuring her in my sleep.
"Oh, you feel so good", she moaned ...only, it came out in bleeps and blips.
Coal-red eyes protruded from your bust
As we swaggered in mock-bravado.
We were afraid of you Charles
And the shadows you cast
From within cast shadows.
Chinese Apple replacing Adam's
And a terry-towelling cap to repel the '02 sun -
Resurrected in '74 -
It was, Charles, a time of rebellion.
Steel-blue Winfields survey the source
Of your pipe-dream...
How you must detest, yet now, that coinage!
And do you see, Charles,
From your self-inflicted throne
(With inscription below)
That it was no pipe-dream?
Perhaps death has cured your blindness.
I Harbour hope, Charles,
With the wisdom I have gained
Since '02
Back in '74,
That you see your feats fulfilled...
And mine forgiven.
She was stern there looking at me
Not quite a pout, almost angry
Her hair, wild, is loose all about
She keeps it stringy and spread out
Her eyes burning with fire, deadly
Heart bleeds seeming a mystery
Red between lips is what I see
Protruded out with a fine pout
She was stern there
Her nose flares as if she won’t be
Won’t hold my love, she sits sternly
Fiercely she carries some dire doubt
Without my love she’s in a drought
One thing’s sure, there’s no guarantee
She was stern there
Russell Sivey
I remember it well.
The feeling was swell.
It happened once a year;
An event most precious and dear.
The fragrance was in the air.
It was still mid-Spring, but from the sky,
There protruded the aroma of summer.
I hasten to say, it was a beautiful first of May.
And presently, I pause with warm affections, to reflect,
To muse upon the emotions that were like no other day.
To us, May Day was like a holiday encased in amusements.
It was time to plait the Maypole.
With coordination and precision, we flowed
With the rhythm of the music as we danced and skipped
Around the pole, plaiting eye-catching bright and bold colors.
They were rainbow colors, filled with life, like those in our hearts.
Oh, what lovely and memorable visions of childhood, so real and vivid.
No selfies or videos, but the pictures are forever painted in our souls.
It's true that life took us away, far from the shores of childhood festivities.
In our career years, we are encumbered with futuristic aspirations, but as
the locomotive of life slows, our minds swing back to the Maypoles of yesterday.
050422PS