Best Reflecting Poems
I stand alone a barking tree, where silent sorrows of ripples flee,
No one hears my calamity, wearing weeps of my raped reality…
Branches droop to ice-cold ground, solitudes surface of their drowned,
Abysmal anguish of leaves have browned, lacrimal echoes of their sound.
Randomized reflections of rivers flow, suffering scourges in their woe,
Ripples raging in their row, creating cabalistic contrasts as they grow…
The forest dense as to populate, the seeds of seduction must copulate,
All is dormant until the eyes dilate, weeping willows that magistrate.
I accept my life near the lamenting lake, weathering wounds as I wake,
The wood whispers as to ache, secluded shadows share the snake…
Wandering waters that ripples bring, vines that struggle in their swing,
Alone in my salvaged spring, where sparrows segregate in their sing.
Gif # 1
02.25.2020
Placed 1'st & POTD...Thank You
a sky darkened to grape
lying in stillness. . . .
a lake of wine
the lake mirrors
wisps of twilight’s clouds above -
a lilac trail
on the lilac trail
full white moon
a face glitters on water
deep purple water
moon in pomegranate sky. . . .
reflecting
A mesmerizing purple and pink unicorn with an orange mane is staring at me.
I cannot feel uncomfortable.
Because….
I created her.
I also drew and painted the glittery glitzy giant pink bear,
the turquoise cat with the fluffy tail and orange polka dots,
and the friendly blue and yellow daddy dragon, who is almost ridiculous in his happy cuddling of a flop-haired baby doll.
I am in my living room, trying to not notice how clever I was when I painted the 70’s orange and green striped frog and his funky pink peace-out lily pad,
But it pops almost as much as the chubby happy honeybee with the hot pink wings that is zooming around my faerie with the pink, purple, and white hair. She is one of my favorites apparently, as my eye keeps straying back to admire her, not quite remembering painting her at all, but knowing it had to have been me, as my paintings are readily figured out as mine by anyone who has ever seen one. I have mastered the art of creating “Caren” stuff in a Caren-way.
I make no apologies for my living room menagerie.
I am the Goddess-creator of all I survey
If you do not like my kingdom you are free to play elsewhere today.
We will still be friends, but I cannot let you stay now because I am having a really glorious little “me” day, and it does not like to be ruined.
The stars have been ignited,
they've brought the night to life
they've sprinkled the pond with countless diamonds
with droplets they collide
I've knelt silent at the waters rim
and touched the reflecting pool
in one moment the image dissolved
my hot patience has been cooled.
I
wonder
if poems
birthed from my soul
might be - like my days on this earth - numbered.
Days are fleeting, yet in the sky I see
infinity,
and so I
make a
wish.
May
poems
reflect my
mind boundlessly
like those stars that illuminate the night.
7/19/2016
Passages trail the utter existence
along brick faced wanderings
with puddles reflecting death
in the vast wasteland that calls
from bled out dreams
I listen to the footsteps,
eager to please, left by the curb
beneath graffiti warnings
in spray painted quotes
dripping with ease and intent
Their cadence sends
splashing ripples onto
nicely pressed slacks,
collecting glares from bus stop loafers
with exact change and nowhere to go
As I find my existence
fading in the far back seat,
staring out of a smeared rear window,
exhaust fumes wave good bye
to the nothing I have become
Looking deep into your invitingly,
warm, brown eyes, I suddenly felt
intoxicated, as if I were drunk,
Drunk, dizzy, and unbalanced,
Unbalanced, I stumbled right into an
old tree,
Tree, it wasn’t any old tree; it was
the tall palm tree, our secret meeting
place.
Place, a heart-shaped rose garden,
where endless hours of daydreaming
and making plans,
Plans of things and places we
would visit and explore,
Explore and wander through some
of those great cities around the
world,
World! That wonderful world was our
dream. How nice if I could return to
those old, carefree, lazy days.
Days where we could just lay in the
warm tropical sun, listening to our
favourite love songs, enjoying the
cool sea breeze, oblivious to time,
drifting us right into
sunset,
Sunset worked its magic on our
souls, inciting feelings of romance,
Romance, throughout our romantic
phase, you were thoughtful and
generous, and always did everything
with great love.
Love, our love was blooming
beautifully like a Rose garden in
Springtime,
Springtime sadly doesn’t last forever,
Forever wasn’t meant for you and me,
Me and you, it was our destiny to
meet and then part,
But alone and abandoned, I could
never be, for in my heart,
Those unforgettable memories of
the “us” dwell in a perpetual embrace,
undisturbed in eternal bliss.
By Zyrool
Love is
pain. Knew she that?
Now. Did it feelings change?
Did she learn? That, only time tells.
"Mirror, will I hate? Mirror... Heal I will!"
Mirror?
"Will I Heal? Mirror! ...hate I will!" Mirror
tells time only. That, learn she did.
Change feelings it did. Now
that she knew pain
is love.
What if this is hell
What if we are the dead
It makes sense
The murders, the rapes, the sorrow
I do believe it is a possibility,
So I am doing my best to
help others up and out
Inspiring them to follow their hearts.
Maybe the artists and the poets
are at the top level, almost ready for the giant leap
To the good place.
Maybe the murderers and the rapists
have a long way to go
I do think I am right about this.
I am sold on it, because I have been invincible.
I have expected to die three times.
Yet, here I am. Alive? I doubt it.
Maybe our souls are crying because they
are aware that we are dead
Maybe this is hell.
It makes sense to me,
And it seems fair.
Tread lightly, my friend.
We are probably not supposed to know,
So go ahead and pretend ignorance.
I am only sharing this insight with poets and artists.
Reflecting upon his love
His inspiration
How he died
Whispering prayers
Breaking his mother’s heart and
All who wish for healing
His home is not our evil world
This sin free gift has a passionate purpose
And courage uttering “It is finished”.
Written: September 29, 2023
No 1245 Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Brian Strand
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Gray sky
High cry
It flakes
Snowflakes
To crawl
In fall
Landscape
Reshape
White sheets
Such treats
All time
Kids mime
Some sled
The spread
Some glide
On side
Ice fields
Reveals
Snowballs
No walls
Such cheer
Is dear
Sweaty
Dainty
He speaks an uncomplex language,
a simpler time and all the more better
for he to not contemplate the ways of the Sun -
revolving around in his mind,
burning synapsis, conjoining
an onyx ringed Saturn unmasked
(they say the devil, Medusa dwells there),
now view the Sun ray-banned,
traversing his time
around the skirts of it all,
they say earthquakes follow -
that one split his world in half,
the ancient adage this too shall pass -
ignored for all time,
inverting into that black void
unlike the minute Venus,
now birthing Andromeda, more mysterious,
her barred galaxy calls forth the warriors
like a siren’s bewitching hum,
on arrival, the immensities become
ominously shadowed, waiting and silent -
for the courageous Perseus, unexplored -
like a hall of mirrors he now walks fearlessly forth,
he walks the crystalline corridors of time
pursuing the reflecting Meiosis’ mind
one could get lost
in the eyes of a gorgon storm
the heart turned to stone
somewhere he hears the litotes
I shan’t be sorry for I shall be glad
that wasn’t half bad
then, like an ex-wife,
the Nemesis calls
Candide Diderot. ‘24
two suns.
Medusa's path.
Children dream of growing up fast
Focused on future, forgetting the past.
Wishfully thinking, days go slow
Blind to the breeze and trees that bow.
While jumping rope and climbing walls
Thinking: “Someday I’ll be big and tall.”
Just like parents and pilots that fly
Children want to reach up and touch the sky.
Now ever so gently, lay me down to rest
Praying for strength to do my best.
To make it one more grown-up day
Right here, where I once hoped I’d play.
Dancing in the rain again
Laughing wildly with family and friends.
Such a fleeting, immeasurable time ago was I
Merely a twinkle in someone’s eye.
Here today and gone the morrow
Bitter sweet life’s joys and sorrows.
Oh to be so young once more
And glad to finally close that door.
Reflecting back in a mirror’s gaze
Life is shorter than a pin-knife blade.
My white wedding dress
Now on my eldest daughter
Twirling in mirror
I hope in twenty years she
Won’t be invisible too
10/15/12
Bright flash of lightning
in the forest clearing
reflects in the deer's eye.