Best Pursues Poems
Aloft, with keen eyes in sorbet skies’ raspberry half-light
visceral vibrations of vitality does await.
Soaring in a hush, with plumage plush, a silent stealth kite,
he glissades on ghostly winds with mystical wings of fate.
Poised to plummet from his summit of purple sundown spread
with wingspan wide, wreathed gradual glide, hunts a twilight hawk.
Floating form causes flocks to brainstorm on life or death dread,
those flying forlorn, late to roost, are reduced by his stalk.
Aerodynamic, his dramatic dive deals destiny,
raptor raptly pursues passerine through air’s plum-bruised dim.
Whispering wings whisk to live and not die desperately,
over the arborvitaes the future for one is grim.
If it’s true that energy never dies; its cries transform,
then songbird's notes will ascend on hunter's wings in reform.
Susan Ashley
December 3, 2017
~ First Place ~
Contest: Your Best Poem In The Last Year
Sponsor: Silent One
~ Seventh Place ~
Contest: Best Rhyming Poem October - December 2017
Sponsor: John Hamilton
The poet dreams, and with a simple glance
at trees or sky or at a mountain spring,
begins to write, endeavors to enhance
each sight of beauty with imagining.
He paints midsummer as a day of gold,
the song of birds at twilight as the tune
for his beloved, whose aspect is extolled
and likened to the splendor of the moon.
At times, his heart is pained. It seems that doom
pursues him in that chasm where he grieves.
He finds he still must write. . . and there may bloom
sweet wistful roses on his journal’s leaves.
Though meager be his assets, he bequeaths
to us a treasure with the words he breathes.
For "A Poet's Worth" Poetry Contest
"Destined to Love"
twilight Moon cascades, haunting tapestry
as hearts incline to secrets of mellow night
clandestine caresses embrace 'neath canopy
lovers silhouette engage in sweet romantic flight
ascending to voluminous height.
in ebony atmosphere, flirtatious fondling ignites fire
as breathless succulence invades flesh and bone
with adventurous satisfaction, love pursues deepest desire
while sequined stars illuminate soft tone
captivating aura of mysterious moan.
forbidden fruit lies tenderly amidst dew-kissed heather
hypnotic force of true love refused to be denied
petite vision in chantilly lace and supple leather
emotions escalate vast inner feelings to subside
love conquers life, happiness cried.
a lovers touch creates palatial garden of delight
a beautiful expression accentuating rare romance
inhaling fragile fragrance although their precious plight
encircles pair in eternal dance
succumbing to the power of temptation's trance.
twilight Moon cascades, haunting tapestry
gently, pure white wings of turtledove
whispers an evening song 'neath lovely canopy
while heavenly stardust shimmers from above
smiling upon lovers destined to love.
*For old romantic poems Contest..
"An Enchanted Voyage"
love reflects emotion embraced by motivating force
a visual crystal ball evokes journey through endless Time
upon a magic carpet floating guided by heartfelt course.
stars whisper in midnight canopy twinkling soft chime
toward destination to reunite with lost lovers' soul
a visual crystal ball evokes journey through endless Time.
in Fantasy, a tender heart pursues ultimate goal
as love's adventure strives to capture essence known
toward destination to reunite with lost lovers' soul.
the sting of Death refuses to separate powerful feelings sown
an incantation from a mythical book of charms
as love's adventure strives to capture essence known.
thoughts of caressing sweet desire within silky arms
ignite sheer wings absorbing strong love potion spell
an incantation from mythical book of charms.
an enchanted voyage fascinates realm with golden wishing well
love reflects emotion embraced by motivating force
ignite sheer wings absorbing strong love potion spell
upon a magic carpet floating guided by heartfelt course.
"Fantasy Chant"
love power wills
beyond cold grave lives
cast potent magic spell?
*For Terzanelle Fantasy with Questionku Chaser.
A twinkle in her eyes tonight
evokes the thought that they invite,
though I recall, not long ago
my absence seemed more apropos.
The laughs that linger on her lips
bare more than many verbal slips -
the times they pierced me, sad and grim,
lie in the past, though far from dim.
She flayed me once... nay, more than twice,
she flayed me both with flames and ice,
and once again, predictably,
she primes me for catastrophe.
Our friends and foes naively watch
her try to carve a deeper notch,
for even they don't seem to know
the depths to which she'd really go.
Upon my face a pose appears
which hides my thoughts, obscures my sneers,
for now I too have learned the rules
from her - ah, yes, the best of schools.
Because I'm acting somewhat cool,
thus pouring on her fires, fuel,
she burns and yearns and wants me more
than when I was her cuspidor.
She (unbeknownst, I'm not the same)
pursues again her guileful game.
But when her tears descend and swell,
will she be proud she taught me well?
The others leave, I stay behind
(they all know what she has in mind) ,
embrace her in my arms once more,
beguile her through her bedroom door.
She whispers secrets in my ear,
as I once did (she didn't hear);
I listen, flash some mirthless smiles,
my thoughts adrift to desert isles.
The night is passed, her trusting grows;
I leave before the morning glows.
Aroused, she'll seek a waking thrill
but find instead a dollar bill.
Insomnia turns my heart young again
Tossing and turning, I wonder where I am
Unaware of what restlessness brings
"What do I want?!!" I call out to it and rethink
The child in me awakens to remind me
When my roads cross a world with a spark
That lives hither and carries secrets of another
That speaks of Lincoln and Bose alike
That loves Sanskrit and French alike
That sings Del Rey and Kishore alike
That reads Coelho and Kalidas alike
That pursues Vivekananda and Socrates alike
That pictures Whitman and Tagore alike
That analyzes Schrodinger and Raman alike
That follows Christ and Shiva alike
That lives frequencies and poetry alike
That travels to Darjeeling and Prague alike
That lives under stars and blankets alike
That walks on deserts and oceans alike
That dances on passion and romance alike
That burns with fire and desire alike
That believes in Science and Magic alike
That knows love and oneself alike
That covers journeys and conquests alike
That spark, yes that spark, is what makes my heart skip a beat
And takes me to dreams and hopes again every night.
May 14, 2020
BRIAN'S CHOICE C,any form,any theme
Winner: Honorable Mention
“Precept”
Death’s reign is but a world of carnal minded concepts,
Within which illusions of it own harlot are kept,
As minds counterfeit the Sacred Hearts of the precept,
In containments of worldly forms of the mind’s inept!
My precept withstood this selfish whore’s galore… to the face,
As she sought to hid herself in complexity’s mace,
I gained a new precept face, standing against concept’s disgrace,
As economic whore sought to remove truth by it's fast pace!
Death concepts thereof are conveniences of the mind’s absolve,
As compassions of grace, of brotherly face, are not involved,
Truth is seldom heard in this world of which it’s scribes resolve,
Bribes of scribes, politicians have lied, around this they revolve!
The carnal of mind knows not what they do as death pursues,
The goat will gloat, sheep the mind will not promote...bid adieu,
I’ve stood in the gap of mind’s mishap, the gap(!), I construe!
I’ve stood the test, I've earned Father’s rest, I receive my due!
I bid adieu to the death of the stubborn minds astute,
In heaven’s choir, they will never give Gabriel’s flute.. a toot,
The carnal mind just doesn’t compute...the precept acute,
For higher cosmic affair...holds no flair...for brute's pollute!
Before the Roman legions carved a road
This stallion coursed across the chalk ridge brow
Unharnessed, free or by a king bestrode
Like wave traversing grassland free of plough
It still pursues its quest yet even now
Note: This is the oldest of the many white horses carved into chalk hillsides across southern England. It has been dated to The Bronze or Iron ages. (Pre-Roman occupation)
;Did I just hear, Joy? Copious clitoral adoring?
His attention to my affections explored?
I must, in my pure state of lust, reply...
Tempted by the sensual bite of his eYes...
... hi baby... welcome home. ;)~
Your pipe and slippers too...
Yes I admit I'm wet for you and
Yes you can bet. desire pursues.
Butterfly kisses on your brow,
Intensely sensing you somehow...
Take your hands and follow mine
Escape with me in a sizzling rhyme...
A dizzying breath you can feel on your skin
Ripples through your body as my lips begin
To move ... you can't hear but all you can do
... is ache to read and know it's true...
The skin on my lips, belongs to you.
A hot tingle sings along your ear...
Sensual licks that only you can hear
To tease and please our calling dear.
Escape with me... it's a sizzling stare.
...can you see, my mischievous dare...
Move with me, your lips my chair.
Ecstasy awaits with her riddle in the air.
...
Your fingers are the key to my fantasy
And deep inside. you're the endless in me
Drench my eYes with your need to believe
Open your thighs and release to see
Taste with your hands, the flavors of Me.
i life
Reflections in the mirror increase resentment.
Tarnished heart pursues vengeful contentment
Disillusioned, you hide in fictitious make believe,
possessed by demons who purblind and deceive.
In your bogus twisted fabricated state of mind,
answers to your questions you shall never find.
Your fraudulent mask poses, deceptively concocted,
mocking with a grim masquerade you have adopted.
ii death
As your heart blackens with the absence of light,
Lucifer summons you closer, to his sheer delight.
Loved ones cannot save you from hell's burning heat,
there's nothing behind you but shadows of deceit.
Now that your toxic nature has begun to expire,
you can no longer suck energy like a vampire.
Nobody cares to listen to your forged confession.
There is only joy in the absence of your aggression.
iii after life
Pain like hungry howling wolves irritates skin deep.
After all this time, why do you sabotage my sleep?
Am I cursed that I see your silhouette in my dreams,
I'm struggling to ignore your torrid smouldering screams.
Why continue to haunt me like a vicious viper?
Firing shells of cyanide like a silent sniper.
iv remedy for change
I'm fortunate that my quill has become my shield,
for every wound, poetry is my remedy to be healed.
My ink is my saviour, bursting through my vein,
a catharsis for peace, as from hate I abstain.
Word has reached
A distant planet out their
Semaj, this ancient Celt
In ancestral despair
His droid Etto
Has bulletins relayed
The last human on earth
In final death display
Civilisation as he knew it
Has gasped its last breath
For the butterfly winged angels
Has left earth in death
For once again their desire
To gain the orb of life
Has left the world as he knows it
In death dying decaying strife
For weeks he travels
To a world he once knew
In ancestral pilgrimage
Answers he pursues
He arrives through earths atmosphere
Human eyes will never see
He lands near Loch Torridon
Kingdom of the King Kane family
Whats left of his village
Bodies drained of their life
Children and the elderly
Man and his wife
For the very last time
He views his ancestral surround
For on these peat laden glens
Black Roses abound
Alba, his country
In death dying decay
As he speeds through its glens
Black Roses display
He reaches the lowlands
And its riches of soil
But nothing else grows
Black Roses spoil
Moments later
There is the sound of a sonic boom
Black clouds above separate
Lights appear through the gloom
When I came to the soup,
I did not know how to tame,
the straying syllables on my Haiku.
Then, she took me under her wings,
and I have learnt so much since then.
I have learnt the trick of weaving words,
on the spindle to form poetry.
Though, I am not a good student,
for I skip classes now and then,
but she pursues me here and there.
Surely, one day I shall grow like her,
writing poetry without getting weary.
Haa, have you heard the latest,
she has just elevated me,
by making me one of the poets,
whose poetry 'float into her boat'.
20th April, 2013
Dedicated to Andrea Dietrich, for her encouragement and all that I have learnt from her.
summer winds
arid whirlwinds spin
spread scent of dried pine needles ~
forest pursues rain
sirocco mistrals
winds gusts wither tumbleweeds ~
summer heat shivers
parched solstice tempests
leave stale breaths of dusty thirst ~
cedar incense thrives
dull drafts sear and whine
spinning pinwheels freeze dry mists ~
twisted pines drop seeds
empty typhoon breaths
shrivel the empty zephyrs ~
doves seek aspen boughs
snowstorms of sizzle
predict signs in winds of change ~
dog days pant dryness
7-5-22
Syllables check with www.howmanysyllables
Because love yearns and in its yearning
searches each sunrise and sunset
to find another, to join in timeless beauty
to find a warmer glow... gleaned from a lonely heart
when a pause comes, from a welcoming smile
and emotions express exhalations
from every pulsating passion that love pursues
with its deepest gnawing hunger
when its orbs look deep
into the unscared landscape of innocent dreams
that invite a warm breathless kiss
exposing vulnerability, wrapped in the hands of comfort
when lovers walk in secured silence
across the winding wishes of wanted wonder
leaving their fading footsteps
to lay lightly on the dusk of their traveled days
when they never looked away from their horizon
filled with sunrises and sunsets
from the day love's yearnings were filled
in a pause, from a smile
from the heart of another who also yearned
to find love's timeless beauty
4/30/18 contest Free Verse on Love
alone he stands behind the plow
in footrace with the lengthened dawn
a shadow figure in the now
pursues the where and when and how
of unseen reins so slowly drawn
alone he stands behind the plow
each furrow’s end a prayerful bow
an homage paid – dark soil turned fawn
a shadow figure in the now
a twisted plowmans daily prowl
his dream - horizon’s distant pawn
alone he stands behind the plow
as rutted field and furrowed brow
leave in the mist the endless song
a shadow figure in the now
in answer to where, when, and how
sweet memories dark furrows spawn
alone he stands behind the plow
a shadow figure in the now
©1/16/2018
Contest: Villanelle Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter