Best Reclined Poems
On my walk around the green meadow
in the sun splattered mesmeric mornings,
I used to see an old lady of the neighborhood,
sitting straight like a lone statue of cold stone
on the road-side bench I always crossed.
The golden stream of surging sunbeam
cascaded down the engraved web of rills
on her septuagenarian fragile face.
She would raise her thin ivory hands
from the recess of reclined lap unmoved,
flail in frail gesture in the scented air,
murmuring ‘good morning’ perhaps,
I could hardly hear in the rustle of leaves,
but my long day waited to begin
with the shining dawn of her smile,
drenching me in the silent shower of joy.
I still walk as the senile sun rises everyday,
but its searching rays saddened like me,
don’t find the lady on the bench,
but she walks smiling with me,
down the memory lane.
Written : March 22, 2020
July 23, 2022
Contest : 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 9
Sponsored by : Mark Toney
On this mountaintop I sit
In solitude reclined –
For such a heightened lift
Soul-weary did I climb
The world foresworn – a bit
(My aching heart inclined)
A flowing form of art
A hawk goes soaring by
In curving – graceful – arc
Suspended in the sky
It liberates my heart
And with the hawk I fly
Heart to beating heart
Eye to seeing eye
“The October night comes down; returning as before
Except for a slight sensation of being ill at ease
I mount the stairs and turn the handle of the door
And feel as if I had mounted on my hands and knees.”
----- “Portrait of a Lady;” T. S. Eliot
A golden afternoon,
Late October, and my thoughts
Are all of you, Suzanne…
Vestiges of your being
Appear on visages of
A hundred different people;
But none are you, not one
As green, as golden.
Hard it is to know no miracle
Will mend, no giddy hope assuage,
The scourge that slowly puts an end
To our valiant green and golden girl.
Memory takes us to days of indolence,
Of innocence, of children lying on a levee
Deep in lush, green, summer clover --
In sunlight almost as golden
As your hair -- beside a flowing river
Bearing away your golden hours
And the painless green of youth.
Now, in your green room, reclined
In shadow, our golden girl reposes.
Your courage lights the coming night
That does not dim the gold and green
You always shared, and still you share.
After a long work day I come home to a long warm shower. It was getting late into
evening hours. I sat down in my favorite black leather chair. Not knowing I was in for a big
scare. I rolled a joint and sat back fully reclined. I was getting high out of my mind.
As I was enjoying my weed, I almost choked because a voice spoke beneath me! I
jumped up and listened to my chair spit profanity. I wondered if I was loosing my sanity.
My lazyboy said, "Don't be scared, sit down and talk to me!"
I seriously thought I was dreaming. Like an out-of-body experience waking up
screaming. No this is real, very real. I just knew my chair was about to do a cartwheel!
"No need looking around wearing a frown, you been sitting down on me for years; so
have no fear. No it's not the weed, you're seeing clearly, so sit down and listen to me."
I sat down in utter shock, resting my buttocks. As my chair began to explain.
"No Jimmy you're not going insane, but I feel you're causing me harm. I have burns,
scratches, now dust all along my arms. I'm left with a permanant frown. I desperately need
a rub down. I don't wanna be mean, but get some disinfectant and clean. The way I'm living
is obscene!"
No more explanations were needed. So after a good wipe down it was obvious I had
succeeded. My lazyboy's black leather had a nice shine. Now I wanted to rest my spine.
"Ah I feel so much better. Now I can go back into a deep sleep. You can go back
enjoying your weed or nicotine. Just remember my hygiene, and from time to time give me
a clean - Thank you."
I could have sworn my lazyboy gave me a wink. I shook my head, tomorrow I would
go see a shrink!
For Matt Caliri contest "Spea Chair! Speak!
Her feline grace reclined,
triumph ruled in Her eyes -
Many sought the blue flamed tryst
in shaded groves they court with lies.
These men fell power drunk
tripping on love’s wine;
its tang turned acrid
as they lapped the poisoned vine.
The once green forest cinder,
no water for the lake was dry,
The valley’s burnt to ashen gray
and all She kissed have died.
After: The Blue Cat by Pamela Colman Smith 1907
For Debbie Guzzi's Ten Pictures, Ten Poems, Ten Days - Painting 3
Kim Patrice Nunez
09 January 2016
My favorite sanctuary is the side porch where I would screen the horizon and
amble around to feel the wonder of this place--- robins trill in the morning ;a garden path leads to rows of flowers and plants. At any given day, the round table and brass chairs act as a breakfast nook, night party lounge ( with its cobblestone floor and collage of lights), and wide-open painting /writing room. Transparent glass hinged on French-style frames hangs above my porch with a bevy of orchids trailing below it.
My alone time to gather my thoughts and awaken all senses refreshes my soul in this abode.
Soft lights glitter through bench on porch
As moon carves a flossed line;
Words gather to arc hands’ torch
On brown pages, reclined.
Floral thoughts climb through patio doors
Where language reels around
The way mist floats like raindrops’ pour
Dipping odes wet, I drown.
My Quiet Place Contest of Sara Kendrick
The forest was ours—
The trees swayed in
Unison with our steps.
Our words became
Whispers in the wind.
The sun shared silver
Shafts of bright light
Through restless leaves
As you held my face
In your hands and
Tenderly kissed my eyes,
My cheeks, my lips.
I was cradled in the
Warmth of your love.
We reclined on a bed
Of leaves and shared our
Thoughts and dreams
For hours until we watched
The golden sun disappear
Into the twilight sky.
Leaving my car, I hasten my pace as
silent pain, screaming inside me
intensifies with the increasing movements made
by what I only can describe as an invisible snake
slithering beneath my flesh.
It’s felt by only me, and seen by no one -
the strange phenomenon
of a nervous system gone awry from side effects
of the “miracle” of modern medicine.
I know my conditions now by the title of Neuropathy,
but that definition does not come close to
describing what I experience unceasingly.
Mere “tingling or numbness”
would be preferable
to the feeling of a slithering serpent
squeezing or pressing down along my back.
Striding into the grocery store,
I find what I need as quickly as I can.
At any time, my metaphorical serpent
might decide to wildly strike,
perhaps while in the checkout line as I wait
with my silent screaming -
Please, line, move! Just let me finish here!
Afterward, with grocery bags in hand,
I scramble to my car.
Once inside, I press my back against my seat.
Ahhhh, relief!
The snake loses its momentum when I am reclined
or pressing myself against a surface,
and so I am not physically as active as I used to be.
People with chronic unseen disabilities
are not just a few.
When you chance to see someone fidgeting
in a line, looking as if
they’d like to “jump out of their skin,”
maybe you are seeing someone like me
with silent pain, screaming
from within.
Nov. 19, 2022
For Edward Ibeh's Pick-A-Title, Vol 33 Poetry Contest
#3 chosen: Silent Pain, Screaming
He lay beside her on their bed of dreams
His hands still playing in her raven hair
Her body bare and bathed by streaming beams
Of moonlight that revealed her glowing, fair
He marveled at the curves of breast and thigh
The fullness of her form like to her heart
He moved in closer and he heard her sigh
And wondered how she touched his deepest part
When he’d reclined on satin cushions, plush
A sultan in a harem made for one
She’d belly danced and given him a rush
Seductive moves that made him come undone
And then she’d fed him oriental sweets
His tastes to satisfy with keen delight
He lay back as she offered him her treats
A vision for his soul as well as sight
She rubbed into his form her oil, perfumed
His harem girl with each caress did tease
Her cherry lips his every fear consumed
And every move she made was done to please
She gave to him what none had done before
Not just her love but essence of her soul
Adored and sated, why to ask for more?
When she had loved him and had made him whole
And now she lay there safely in his arms
Cocooned in love and nestled deep within
He lay amazed by all her many charms
His harem girl and of his soul akin
He must have sleep, enraptured in a dream
A moistness on his lips bid him awake
Caressing hand and whispers, sweet like cream
With luscious love she made him dreams forsake
Eileen Manassian Ghali
we stimulate our minds for our intellect to grow
becoming more technical
remaining spiritually slow
so we face trials and tribulation
crisis and complications
praising God, while serving Satan
expecting love when spewing hatred
our faith is dissipating
until its totally forsaken
for miracles we pray
yet and still we disobey
missed lessons
means blocked blessings
wrong paths are chosen
cursed to glimpse the promised land but never enter like Moses
it's hard to humble ourselves cause we've got pride
so we find a hard head leaves a soft backside
when stressed i ride
reclined, inside
sounds booming
trying hard to decipher the message in our music
Pac said keep your head up
Treach said guard your grill
Wu sang protect your neck
Cube said to kill at will
Eazy said easy does it
Run said hard times
Jigga ask can I live
but Big ready to die
50 cent said get rich ore die trying
K.R.S made stop the violence, and listen to my nine
these are questionable times
that leave young impressionable minds
hoping to find success pushing dope on the grind
thinking all the pain would end if they became rich
but the harder they hustle the more pain and anguish
if we could understand the hustle
we would over stand the struggle
instead we constantly land back in trouble
on frivolous pursuits
searching for forbidden fruits
living lies until they collide with the moment of truth
I been there and done that
played with fire and got burned as soon as my hand healed I'd run back
so young and misguided
mama said don’t do it I tried it
it's by God's grace I survived it
flash back to my youth I was so naive and timid
wondering if that path I walked on is the one the Lord intended
tired of getting beat by bullies so I learned to prevent it
but I found my self in front of the judge as a defendant
five times aquited of crimes that I committed
but the one time I was innocent is when I got convicted
justice may be blind, but she so vindictive
so I struggle with it
trying to make since out of the senseless
I know a place; no one likes to be there,
yet nearly everyone I know has gone
to sit with trepidation in a chair,
and then reclined, each person sits and drools
while helplessly they stare up at the face
of someone who is cramming too big tools
inside their mouth, which has too small a space -
too little space to have to let inside
large forceps or that vacuum that lets pass
the grime collecting in mouths open wide!
Perhaps some go just for the laughing gas!
But go we must - and sit still for the drill,
enough sometimes to make a grown man ill.
Written June 17, 2016
for the If it hurts so bad, why do we do it? Poetry Contest of Silent One
The hours pass and yet I wait for you
The minutes taunt me each with wicked glee
I wonder if my dreams will soon come true
Will you appear and make sweet love to me?
My heart about to wilt from lack of care
I hold to hope you’ll take me in your arms
Plant kisses on my body here and there
Envelope me with all your lovely charms
And so I wait, reclined on perfumed bed
Lost in my dreams of all that will transpire
The start will be a kiss on lips so red
A symbol of the flames of coming fire
The night has gone, and you have not appeared
T’was all a dream, just as my heart had feared
Eileen Manassian Ghali
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Creeping on my windowpane
peek into my heart, them I refuse
Awake, I fear their unknown recluse
They wind my shivering fears in threads
and let them curl till they squeeze to last bead
haloed drops disperse from my window
my anxieties engulfed afloat like paper boats
spiral dreams bubble from the breeding-box valley
my room lit with their playful exuberance
Ah! One tendril I catch at last y
It lends me a hand to ascend l
we swivel from bedside and f
Afar, bursting light brewing hope
across the county line
Rhapsody of enchanting mid nights
the old gatekeeper that sings
white patches melt in golden hues
dreams tiptoe through mauve skies
treasures of crimson opera, I unlock
memories blush revealing dim chandeliers
they become more mine than I am
then lull me to sleep as I release
the effervescence dancing to beats
in the ballroom of my subconscious mind
like reclined paper planes in azure clouds
that spiral love on their paper boats
as snowflakes in the city that never sleeps
June 10, 2020
Spiral Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
~Premiere Contest Winner: 1st Place
I touched the sable locks of hair that fell
around your face so softly. Ivory
you called my skin you came to know so well -
though first, like porcelain you handled me!
Where we reclined, cerulean above
us was the sky. Your kisses were divine
there on the seashore where i felt such love!
Your eyes, obsidian, reflected mine;
I drank you in like absinthe - oh, those eyes!
Our passion, like when fire is charcoal fed,
turned crimson like the sunlight when it dies
into the night! For us - sun brightly bled.
We stayed past midnight. Was it all just smoke?
The ash of roses wrapped us when we woke.
Nov. 1, 2017 for Dale Gregory Cozart's Midnight Romance Poetry Contest
The swelling sea static at skyline, stillness stuck at edge of dusk,
waning waves break in splendor, pearls spread on the sedate reclined shore,
twilight spectrum rolls, weave tapestry of darkness for falling night.