Best Readying Poems
Sunlight rains upon my face
Cascading memories cloaked in mystery
Kissing my eyelids
Ancient teardrops glide down my cheeks
Warmth illuminating my hungry soul
A sense of calm
A pulsating ellipse emerges before me
I dive into the magenta abyss
Releasing my wounded heart from its cage
Fear resides
Primal vibrations guide me
Becoming one with galaxies and starlight
My limbs relax
I flow ~ I undulate
I swim in the warmth of the universe
Time and space have become me and I them
Perched on a massive salt-stained boulder
Gazing towards the briny distance
Shades of White
A passionate brushstroke across the horizon
Sky and sea in a lover’s embrace
Caw .... caw ..... caw....
I feel you beckon me
Swallowing the sweet pit of truth
Nudged by a warm gust
I look down seeing the bundle
cradled in my arms
Your endless gaze speaks lifetimes of wisdom
Birth, struggle, bliss, challenge, and death
I watch you intently readying yourself
to pounce upon your unsuspecting prey
Riding this timeline of life
Together as one
Tick tock
Forward backward
Inward to the beating center of creation
Young one I see your sage reflection
In my gilded hand mirror
Me here and you there
Your smiling eyes
Tearing at my core
Come float with me
In sheer turquoise splendor
Adorned with seaweed crowns and abalone jewels
Rays of light penetrate the watery depths
Colonies of majestic stingrays hover nearby
Welcoming us to join their scared dance forevermore
Categories:
readying, age, child, creation, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
No matter how long you look to the sky
Rain wouldn't fall if there are no clouds;
So engage the sun, warm up your oceans
And uplift humid air as high as you can--
And keep repeating till misty clouds form.
Stars don't appear till the advent of dark,
So take your sunny day on a joyous ride--
Let it shine in beauty of traversing the arc
Until on horizon meets crimson twilight
Readying lucent stage for a starry night.
Sun won't rise till the dawn makes a call,
So take the nightfall on the hunt for light
Rotating the earth till you hear birdsongs
Making your way through retreating fog
To witness the dawning of golden vistas.
Now you are glad you can make rainfall,
Happy as well you will conquer the stars,
And find your path to your own aurora.
April 28, 2019
HM: Strand choice J contest by Brain Strand
Categories:
readying, encouraging, inspirational, metaphor,
Form:
Verse
178 months, 129940 hours,
now only 10 minutes remain.
Sitting in cold eerie darkness,
he observes the rhythm of water drops,
slowly wipes away streams of sweat
with his withered trembling hands.
That aching fear, gnawing in his fevered brain,
spasms of fear demanding flight
yet none to be had,
his inner soul asking why he had lost his way
why had his sad life come to this?
What lay in the caverns of darkness ahead!
Wardens pace up and down like wolves,
stopping to stare with compassion less eyes - smirking.
Waiting for the clock to chimes 12 times,
and to shout, 'dead man walking.'
He sits savoring every last breath,
rapidly repenting for all his past mistakes,
deep inside he knows its too late for regrets.
All his apologies fall upon deaf ears.
Flashes past seen, his crimes, girls and drugs, what a blast!
Pretty girls, each taking a slice, of his hoarded treasures
and he indulging in theirs with total abandonment.
O' glorious were those dead and ancient days!
Then reality came back to bite and bite hard,
saying, " such foolishness was a dream and soon comes Death"!
Too hard to bear such truth, he rushes back into fleeting dreams.
Suddenly cold, very cold he feels the deafening bleakness!
Sees the finality in the concrete and iron bars holding him.
Cries silently, what he wouldn't give for another day,
another dawn out in sunshine and fresh air!
Then reality and Fate both spoke to him saying,
" Tho' you a doomed man, meet thy death as a brave one."
Each heart beat beats with each ticking second.
He clutches his worn bible, readying himself for what lies ahead,
anxiously contemplating if he is worthy of redemption.
Rocking back and forth, unable to control floods of tears,
his thoughts are disturbed with a truncheon rattling his cell's bars,
and the dreaded final summoning of his name.
Wolves smile with sly eyes, as the stench of death fills the air.
Fellow inmates turn their faces to the ground.
He savours every step, he knows they are his last.
God is no longer the master of his condemned fate.
He knows he can't erase the crimes of his past,
but takes solace, feeling his crimes were not premeditated,
but now he must face the hypocrisy of his own premature death.
Silent One collaboration with Robert Lindley
17 December 2017
Categories:
readying, death,
Form:
Free verse
Stepping gently in, on the edge of summer
You are the one who mellowed glorious sun
On playgrounds, picnics, frolicking in fun
In euphony of birdsongs of amiable dawns
Where horizon velvet gleams golden nylon
As verdant-hills, slowly, adorn tawny-brown.
But why, O, why your days still remain hot
Too cold to swim, quite pleasing on yacht
Sometimes alike August, sometimes Fall,
Colorful you may be, donning ochre pizazz,
Yet, judging by palette, October you’re not.
Still, September, you’re a welcome friend
For defying decisively summer’s humid reign,
Leading the way to autumnal escapades,
Readying crop-fields, priming for harvests:
Beans, beets, apples, wholesome kale fresh;
You’re a trusted mate to farmer’s avid quest.
Why be then jealous of splendorous spring
Or resplendent prairies of October dreams,
Or dazzling meadows of crimson red leaves,
Or snowflakes of winter charming romantics;
When being so unique, you would rather be.
September 18, 2021
Categories:
readying, seasons, september,
Form:
Verse
I saw them in the sunlight hovering
above the fragrant bushes on our street.
So many different hues of them! It was inspiring.
Beautiful bright ballerinas drawn to scents so sweet
were for me a wondrous and surprising treat.
So many kinds I witnessed; some rather large, some small.
On one shrub were butterflies pink-winged, but mostly blue.
Across the street were some that seemed dressed up for the fall
with golden flecks and orange streaks; then right around me flew
a group of twirling black-striped green ones ; soon my wonder grew!
Mysteriously, each multi-colored group began to drift
together with the other groups, but why? I only could surmise
that when I saw them all together readying to lift
into the sky, it was a gift meant only for my eyes -
art in graceful motion ascending - a kaleidoscope of butterflies.
Written May 14, 2016
Categories:
readying, butterfly,
Form:
Quintain (English)
She tiptoes in quietly, pushing out summer.
There is a hush in the corn fields.
Even the crows are silent.
Scratch. Scratch. Everyone is readying themselves.
Full corn moon, autumn’s magic lady.
Bringing marmalade ideas to the farmers and the corn.
Everything needs to be harvested except the pumpkins.
They are still half way grown on vines.
Harvest moon silences us as she whisks past the combines.
Showing her sweet side to the forest, and her smile to Grandmas.
In the wee hours, as they stare out their windows
Frying bacon, fixing take away lunches with homemade biscuits.
Autumn moon smiles back, knowing her minutes are numbered.
It is four a.m. in Iowa. People are getting ready to harvest.
Harvest moon enjoys these final days of September,
Announcing a mighty winter. He will come in and rub her out, in
a cold fury using snowflakes, frost, and gusts of pure angry winds.
Categories:
readying, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Personification
LEAVING A KISS
Shall I leave you a kiss?
Kiss that flowers a love forevermore.
Love that long been just figments of doubts
but if it is you, I will plant my trust.
Sweet tasty things be stirring in hush.
Pathways twisted shall flourish as they uncoil.
Readying a road for baby passion to freely swirl
Emotions constellate shimmering rainbow bright
Moonshine thrives magnifying fine wine delight
If gnawing beastly storms seeps then enclose
breaking to pieces the sky, the sea and our earth
Bitter tears will spill flooding veins in dark haste
slowly killing everything that grows
But upon love kiss on lips of faith and hope
a spark shall dwell cracking perpetual life
banging the taunts twining pain and strife
Resurrecting progress in blooms of green and red
_________________________________
(c) OLive Eloisa
2:57pm
September 09,2014
Contest Name The Poet II
THEME: LEAVE YOU A KISS
Placed 4th
POEM OF THE DAY -- SEPTEMBER 14, 2014
Categories:
readying, feelings, inspiration, kiss, uplifting,
Form:
Rhyme
Seething turbulent waters
Angry billowing waves
Ready to pound and crush
To pull under and punish
To churn and churn
And leave breathless
Gasping, fighting for breath
For LIFE
Angry...where once it was calm
Tranquil
Serene and deep
Oh, so deep
With treasures to be explored
With beauty to be seen
GRASPED
Felt and enjoyed
Now…..the storm is brewing
The waves cresting
Readying themselves to crash down
To obliterate
And exact revenge
For the sea is a force of nature
Not to be tampered with
It can mesmerize
It can allure and excite
Drench and envelope
With liquid euphoria
But it cannot be tamed
It WILL not be tamed
It will tame
Conquer
OVERPOWER
Devour and spew out
If not understood
If not appreciated
If not held in awe and respect
It can threaten one's very existence
And if it chooses not to destroy
It is sure to leave the foolish hearted
Lost
LOST at SEA
YES, I will leave you
LOST in MY SEA
Of ANGRY PASSION
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Categories:
readying, allegory, emotions, sea,
Form:
Free verse
How easily you return,
Within this mind's hindsight,
Never knowing how the swelling,
Gaping hole of your absence,
Weighs me down heavily,
With the confusion of your presence
In my dreams...
I crave substance,
Though well be my visions and tastes,
Vibrant...real be this cruel shape before me,
With voice like readying thunder,
And eyes plotting my defeat,
Ready to touch and redeem my soul
See how long control has fled from me,
As every fiber of my being convulses
With a grief none shall ever feel
And only hear of...
You can tell me to wake up,
To face reality,
To cope with the passionate eruption of these killer dreams...
But I will not hear you,
Or any being who dares to force me out of this trance--no,
I will not hear you
When the thunder claps
And my soul writhes against your grasp
You can scream at me,
Call me a fool with no substance,
You can shake me with the quaking ire
Of your controlled authority,
Though I will stay here,
Like unbreathable air
With monomaniac devotion
My future became threadbare then,
Lost in the desire of my eager grasp
The force of hot feelings flowing against ancient, chilled iceburgs
We once were untouched,
Ummovable,
Yet free
And once I tasted your fire,
Freedom has become all but a dream...
Categories:
readying, addiction, allusion, desire, devotion,
Form:
Free verse
When the wind blows I hear the faint sound of voices running through the trees, they speak with low tones as if they are speaking to me.
Their leafs rustling and flapping tells me that the wind is delivering fresh air and to live life without care. With their branches touching one another it teaches me we should hold our hands out to each other, they speak to me with these words of love letting the birds nest high above.
Some are young and some are old these rings of cycles tells this story untold, as they stand so tall seeing the spring, summer and fall and they all sleep through the winter readying their branches for new leafs to fall.
The squirrels scratch their trunks climbing up and down letting the birds view from all around. The woodpecker pecks trying to remove bugs while the Eagle looks for food on the highest branch up above.
They sway in the wind as if they were dancing singing songs by using their leaves, these trees sing this song of beauty and grace as the rain from above waters their roots helping them to hold the earth as the wind blows their branches. They are a family of many that stands together without one complaint teaching man how to live together in all bad weather but, man has become deaf and dumb to theses voices of the trees.
Categories:
readying, nature,
Form:
Free verse
The whittled worries and fears shred my nerves like ants on glass, sparkling red. I notice and bow to the glitterati in their fine silks and cuts of cloth because they pay my wages; they care little for the red-cheeked fellow in the silly hat, whose spring step is more right-right than left-right. I’ve become the cheesy blue veined odour curdling on the edge of the plate, readying the silver bone china scrape.
I don't belong at this party with my ill-fitting garb and my eyes mercilessly seduced by the bejeweled beauties beset with jouncy bouquets, spilling colours fountain-like, their exuberant price tags hanging down unembarrassed, soliciting the eye to not deny the wealth. The verdant green will see two-stepping tonight, to the tunes in my head. I am the entertainment, yet feel like the booby prize no one sees. Must I sing for my supper in my red striped specially selected boating hat, or should I croon like the scolded cat serenading the moon.
That's when I saw her slinking and jingling, a charade slipping its mooring, her face dreamy, floating on a tide of lilacs and honeysuckles, and like a brazen queen-worthy vessel, she parted the waves to meet me on the floor closely followed by a scrum of sweaty-faced boys that up-anchored and waddled in her wake. I sang a croon for her ears alone, to imagine dancing with me under the crescent of the moon, in our garden filled with cents and honey and songs to set the traps with money - but all that this did achieve, was nothing but the wish to be elsewhere, somewhere a little less funny.
Categories:
readying, allusion,
Form:
Prose
Far away from her, far from comfort zone
He goes there, where life beckons him
Remaining true to purpose and meaning
Atop the mountains or deep in the valleys
Revering her love, as he journeys alone.
Maneuvering around life's dead-ends
In wayward motion of destiny's u-turns,
Avenues she illuminates besting darkness--
Being his street-lamp, patently she burns.
When forces somber aim to deter him
Bravely she appears readying her valor
Standing by him, in step with his shadow.
He sees her all-over, where there is love.
January 27, 2019
Placed first in ultimate January 2019 contest by Brian Strand
Categories:
readying, feelings, life, strength, true
Form:
Verse
178 months, 129940 hours,
now only 10 minutes remain.
Sitting in cold eerie darkness,
he observes the rhythm of water drops,
slowly wipes away streams of sweat
with his withered trembling hands.
That aching fear, gnawing in his fevered brain,
spasms of fear demanding flight
yet none to be had,
his inner soul asking why he had lost his way
why had his sad life come to this?
What lay in the caverns of darkness ahead!
Wardens pace up and down like wolves,
stopping to stare with compassion less eyes - smirking.
Waiting for the clock to chimes 12 times,
and to shout,
'dead man walking.'
He sits savouring every last breath,
rapidly repenting for all his past mistakes,
deep inside he knows its too late for regrets.
All his apologies fall upon deaf ears.
Flashes past seen, his crimes, girls and drugs, what a blast!
Pretty girls, each taking a slice, of his hoarded treasures
and he indulging in theirs with total abandonment.
O' glorious were those dead and ancient days!
Then reality came back to bite and bite hard,
saying, " such foolishness was a dream and soon comes Death"!
Too hard to bear such truth, he rushes back into fleeting dreams.
Suddenly cold, very cold he feels the deafening bleakness!
Sees the finality in the concrete and iron bars holding him.
Cries silently, what he wouldn't give for another day,
another dawn out in sunshine and fresh air!
Then reality and Fate both spoke to him saying;
" Tho' you a doomed man, meet thy death as a brave one."
Each heart beat beats with each ticking second.
He clutches his worn bible, readying himself for what lies ahead,
anxiously contemplating if he is worthy of redemption.
Rocking back and forth,
unable to control floods of tears,
his thoughts are disturbed with a truncheon rattling his cell's bars,
and the dreaded final summoning of his name.
Wolves smile with sly eyes,
as the stench of death fills the air.
Fellow inmates turn their faces to the ground.
He savours every step, he knows they are his last.
God is no longer the master of his condemned fate.
He knows he can't erase the crimes of his past,
but takes solace,
feeling his crimes were not premeditated,
but now he must face the hypocrisy
of his own premature death.
Categories:
readying, prison,
Form:
Narrative
rolling horizons season
holding life beyond what we see
when winter hangs in bare trees
silver branches bedding down in a hangover of lost green
beyond city limits, forests fall into slumber
waiting for a seasonal flip to loosen the grip of cold
huff and puffed winds cocooning one to a protective box
the hold of a robust time that loves its own white ruin
in this air of frigid authority, my life of reading to snoozing
a peaceful indifference like the weightlessness of wooing
free of complications
I have a soft spot for thoughts that drift to the mundane
like a lost mitten in the snow
maybe I'll keep the bedroom door shut and locked
till a warming April sun knocks its intrusion
slicing open a greener terrain
a garden that asks for seeding
for now, in these darkening days
shadows, like mob rule, carry their own power
readying slumber
folded in the margins of my book
its script of possibilities
Categories:
readying, change, environment, how i
Form:
Free verse
I cherish old photos in monochrome
They seem more poignant and focused
Had they been in colour they would be lost
In dazzling cobalt skies and lapis lazuli waters
Turning my world into monochrome
I often wish I had a switch in my brain
Stopping all these colourful distractions
To focus and absorb to cherish life
Like a top spinning my inner self to dizzying motion
Readying my heart to absorb and cherish
the colours of what I see with my eyes mind and soul
Slowly seeping over and into my monochrome
mirages
1.04.2021
Contest: Cherish
Sponsor: Constance La France (Second Place)
Categories:
readying, deep, old,
Form:
Free verse