Best Recommence Poems
Rumbling in my mind
The song of Arleen Hurtado
Trying to get into a Spanish mood
As I gaze at the flamingo dancer,
Dressed in black flaming wide dress.
Hear her castanets, clicking in rhythm
To the background of classical guitars
And the occasional shouts of Ole`.
Yes I can see her, steel soled shoes
Tapping on sturdy wood. She twirls,
Her dress inflated in a sensual dance,
Until she enters in a tocatta festiva.
Silently she taps as she lifts her dress,
Slowly revealing her beautiful legs,
And down again to recommence her twirl.
The audience go mad in applause.
She merely bows and retires to her room.
I’m there waiting for her.
Even in our winter season the soul of the coming year bursts through hard thick frost,
Even in high piles of purest white snow, buds grow for our future of the next summer,
Blow flowers stir and seeds my mind with flowers of the rarest beauty of our nature,
It is a miracle of this world a characteristic of not understanding natures jigsaws.
Every leaf every little flower and grain will enrich the earth to sustain its many needs,
It would take too long to enumerate all the flowers, buds the insects in each new year,
A Christmas rose expands its white chalice undaunted by the sharpest of crystal frosts,
It blooms amid overwhelming wreaths of snow and the hardest ground but it never fails.
In the valleys of high mountains the ground is covered with these hardy beautiful flowers,
January has a dear old favorite and my old friend the snowdrop a delicate mighty force,
White aconites, the white leaved colts foot flower grow in the milder months of our winter,
In the woods and hedges insects begin to recommence active life under barks of old trees.
Every advancing day presents us with a fresh and cheering symptom of a clean new spring,
Hedge sparrows and the thrush begin to sing, wren pipes lay, we see a golden crested wren,
Blackbirds whistle and linnets gather and little lambs appear in cold snow covered fields,
The house sparrow, a bold courageous bird, renews his brisk chirping a challenge to cold.
So when we look through white frosted panes of spun glass and look across winter countryside,
When we moan we are bored but it is too cold to take a walk or play in the clear open air,
When we come home from working and complain that their feet are wet, cold and badly wrinkled,
Nature is busy getting her armies together to make meadows wonderful and glades beautiful.
There is no season without a witness of a higher greatness which I cannot understand,
In the cold iron depth of winter nurtures the whole vegetation of our future summer,
Like germs of faith and hope in the heart of man that cannot and must not ever fail,
Little buds grow on a bough, corn peeks from frozen earth, nature has moved a mountain.
Hooks and lures and fishing line, an eight foot throwing net
The sea is calm, the weather fine, there’s challenge to be met
Bait fish schools along the rocks dart frantically away
mesh descends on heavy weights to trap unwary prey
A baited hook is set and cast, the line is brought in taut
time like water trickles past, the battle still un-fought
The sun beats down on golden sand, the waves lap at the shore
the rod is passed from hand to hand as shoulders become sore
Nibblers tease and rip the bait but miss the gleaming hook
larger fish show here and there but only seem to look
Then all at once the sea explodes with one almighty flash
a heavy pull and line reels off, a headlong racing dash
Leaping twisting running deep the line pays off the reel
excitement builds and tension mounts, the fish’s fate is sealed
Pumping rod and straining arms bring colour to the top
but once again the fish will run, it seems to never stop
An hour or more of reeling in, the fish begins to tire
arms and neck and shoulders burn and feel like they’re on fire
The battle nearly over now the fish comes closer in
at last you have it in your hand, how sweet it is to win
Looking down at shining scales of silver black and blue
the streamlined body glistens with the light of every hue
with mouth agape and staring eyes the fish begins to gasp
the hook is pulled, the fish reacts, falling from your grasp
Back into the sea once more, it slowly swims away
maybe to get hooked again and fight another day
A flick of tail and flash of scale it vanishes from sight
You long to hook it up again and recommence the fight.
From my PDF book "Bush Ballads and Bulldust"
Down and out, destitute
In dire need , no help or
Support only war or dispute,
Poverty for those we adore,
Overlooked, become invisible
Spiritually and morally
Subjected to the impossible
Exploited so horribly
Societies lack of conscience
Subdue emotional control
Ending or to recommence
Dispossessing heart and soul.
8/9/2018
CONTEST NUMBER 1 - AN ACROSTIC INCORPORATING A QUATRIAN Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Savannah Brown.
Dark I stand, cobalt cold and chipped ice
to the touch. Like a jetty on a winter's day,
mooring empty, friendless boats jostled
by vexed waves; bullying the weak.
But there was a time. I stood like Vesuvius,
naked to your cause. And hungered
for that momentary thrust of raw steel,
releasing spumante detonations that
reached a soot filled sky. I resonated with
the intensity of platinum-white heat, ready
to shape your dreams. Before returning it
forged by my love and pliable to your hammer
Buckets of water would quenched your prize and
sent screaming rivulets of steam off to find a
haven from the heat. Then, standing proud,
admired our work, as an artist to his canvas
But, days passed into years and years into an age.
And from the corner of my empire, I watched
the spring of your prime, turn to the clay filled
winter of your day. Like the dimming of a lustrous pearl
And now your apron, hangs on its nail,
gathering collections of a spiders yearly
endeavours. Whilst motionless and resolute,
I guard your kingdom and await your return.
Ready to recommence the heat of battle once more
She would,intimidated at the hubbub of the spoon
Tapping the dishes at meal times,
Strive to elbow her way through the kitchen egress
Otherwise mount the window and the netting abrade
Exasperated my wife would with her broom
Endeavour to chase away but not to avail
While her cohorts would just the scene descry
Fathoming they would actually avail from her mutiny
For soon she would recommence her conquest
Seek instead to bargain a consensus
Impel my spouse who would capitulate
To dish them something out to domesticate their appetency
Later on my way home after dawn
I chanced upon her lying almost inert
For our neighbour who was less compromising and bigoted
As she has so many times partaken of his poultry
Cautioned us of his imminent reprisals
Got hold of his shotgun and terminated the poor thing
I essayed my best to succor her bleeding wound
But reaped only a feeble meow and almost a beam
She indubitably set her heart on begging pardon
For the pestering at any meal congregation
For the unsolicited guests she summoned
When on the pull and the vigorous confrontation
They would ensue in our garden and near our aching pillows
Then departed letting my pet-worshipping,grief-stricken family
Organize her funeral and allot her a decent burial in the garden
Where she buried her poops and messed the vegetations
Above all the flowers I per diem dampen.
Impressive colors
Scents of fresh companionship
Rising up for all
Colors Of Winter
Have you seen the color of winter as she knocks upon your door cold from the early morning frost, a chill felt inside tired bones, cracking?
White in texture light to the touch why does it mesmerize us so? Naming it is difficult seeing it harder yet laying upon the killing ground, frozen.
Tears frozen in the darkness begin to cry a melody both sweet and fragrant love can that be you I see standing there? Is that you I behold once again?
Blue, White and Black depict our colors of winter as they lay gently on a maidens shoulder beauty unrehearsed an elegance thought is found.
Warmth can be found through the burning embers as thy lady and her chosen gentleman quietly enjoy the calling night, come here rest thee spirit among friends.
Despair replaced with a touch of faiths hand, she leans out and grabs he who is willing, he who is not afraid to walk the unlit road.
Mysteries unfold as both lovers not strangers recommence their untold journey seeking new tales, stories told to listening hearts.
I have found you once again love cries! , I have found you scattered among the shadows’ my light restoreth a candle within thee, shine now shine forever!
© 2015 David J. Mitchell
i don't cower to death, he had me in his grasp
faltering through the sudor of illness
my heart beating slower than time's hands
like a worthless clock on the wall needing replaced
ashen flesh bore his mark, a kiss against my blueish lips
somehow missing his quarry, while i awaited my wings
he still abides in the dumping ground of memories
with promises broken, love unspoken, and heartless liars
in a dashboard of broken dreams long abandoned
that stalk my existence, awaiting to be restored
to recommence through the pathways of my mind
as more than just unused rusted out frames of thoughts
that only resurface in the outburst of downcast eyes
when the shadows of sorrow grapple my emotions
as he purloins another from existence before me
I don't cower to death, he had me in his grasp
the attrition of time has left me emotionless
unscathed by his touch yet numb beneath his kiss
through past's rear-views as i unwillingly await my wings
October 4, 2019
My Favorite Junkyard poetry contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
We are the sea,
we are the blood,
where we live,
we see the flood;
of violence in peace's stead...
let it end;
let it end.
May no more stones be flying;
may no more souls be crying;
may peace return to us again,
in the square of liberation,
recommence the celebration;
let him end;
let him end.
-----------------------------------
In honor of the brave anti-government demonstrators of Egypt. Survive to see your oppressor fall.
Drop dead gorgeous dark eyed bus boy chased
Peer assured status, focus of my fascination
High fiving idol guffawed and elbowed adjacent
Mates in droves, admirers in rows, dreamy Damon
Enriched to glimpse soap opera face as I boarded
From boys' school nearby, the greener gender pasture
Glance at my rolled up skirt spoke to thoughts sordid
His fleeting grin sent collapsing knees, mates' laughter
In typical teenage fashion for the times, mid nineties
Before social media blinked million comment designation
Our exchange over months limited to several niceties
Emptying bus afternoon he asked me out, supreme elation
Profile examined in mirror the evening of our due movie
Re primped the pair of socks boosting breasts non existant
Had my (only) half decent outfit chosen for past two weeks
Prospect of dating Damon held no heart slowing assistance
Uneventful night pursued, spun by overwhelming innocence
Being too naive to encourage moves, nerves running riot
Our chaeffered lifts to cinemas knew no lip warming kiss
Closely guarded phone each evening, obstinately quiet
A month later, bus reverberated his revised standards
Update explained to his mates, his tastes were narrowing
One percent of girls bore requirements Damon demanded
Variety other than curvaceous blonde, saw attention souring
Perfunctory level of awareness, lack of inner dignity
Allowed me to continue, lust bound, blindly desiring
During next year, Damon must have woken to scarcity
Blonde eligible youngsters for his affection aspiring
Mirror had become a somewhat closer companion
Make up added maturity, curves came, and confidence
Outside brick walled front of school, squinted in sun
Damon boldly suggested our courting should recommence
Sideways glance with my fiend, Suzie, enclosed chapters
Desperately I pleaded with my fifteen year old foolishness
To keep a straight face as I turned him down, lustre lacking
"I don't know, " faux deep thought, " Chance is one percent"!
2nd August 2020
Dusty Old Memories Poem Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
The road ahead seemed so bright,
then i woke up the sun upsurged over the horizon,
My feet excited and tingling to run outside the fields ,
The air unblemished the morning is fresh and full of life,
The birds dance retro with hope and bliss in there smiles.
Life is misty full of intent , my mind contemplates as the morning recommence.
To tap is my wish
God portrayed on me
Twelfth days in earlier times
I generated a day of tapping
To recommence the fragmentary tale of a movie film
A movie like my life
Resuming another phase of a film
30 months of life brought to a halt
Wishing to break its silence
Eventually silence will sway
While blaming one self’s difficult tasks
Swiftly blushed a shower of bliss
As face of morning flower awoke with a sunbeam
Endure life’s aspirations
A soft voice whispered
Thanking God for His gratefulness
“Thank You God” for your will.
Beyond the Light
Across the past forgotten shadows dance
Nor distant yearning nor discreet romance
Dispels with telling insight
A crippled heart's perceptive, inward glance--
Nor vanquishes starlight's contrasting night
Nor aids discerning sorrowed wrongs from right
Upon our dreams impress the present need
Assuming, vague realities succeed
In dulling, irregardless of consequence,
The burning edge of Passion's lonely seed--
And, unforgiving, shapes from hither hence
All promise and desire it circumvents
Beyond the light, obscure temptations trace
The lines of thine exquisite form and face
O fragile Life! Long penance...
E'er indifferent to persuasion's gentle grace,
Unleash our bridled hearts to recommence
That blessed quest for Love in welcome silence
Drained of every drop of pride she cups her hands in vain
As eyes seek to escape her haunting gaze.
Gaunt and pale, her spirits crushed, young mind and body slain,
Existence is one long and dreary haze.
Sometimes in her dreamlike state she sees another life
Where happiness and peace walked hand in hand,
There a young girl freely plays, no thoughts of future strife,
So many future hopes and dreams were planned.
Destined, so it seemed, to suffer countless human woes,
False hope came in angelic sweet disguise,
So now enslaved, addicted, she is helpless to abstain;
The girl who begs while inwardly she cries,
And one more grieving Mother sadly sighs
As demons recommence their evil lies.
28.08.19
'Eight word challenge contest' sponsored by Emile Pinet'