Best Relinquishes Poems
A millstone around my neck and weight about my feet
drag me down so deeply
that I’m being pulled toward something. . .
something from a darkened dream - nihility -
the place to lose chagrin
and then to taste absolutely nothing.
Tropical delights do not swim here
to brighten the dingy water of my plight.
No rainbow fish dart to and fro where murky disillusionment oozes
all around and through me.
I go lower. . . .
But above me, I can barely see a tinge of rose and of blue,
a sparkling distant light as the void below crouches,
tugging at my soul.
Hope, through ocean’s skin,
peeps down at me.
Rays of reassurance come gleaming through
the layers of my gloom’s descent,
and be it from God. . . or from simple human will,
Prospect calls to me.
I feel wonder as gravity relinquishes its hold,
and the restraints around my ankles now fall off!
The millstone is released. Unencumbered, I ascend.
Up, up, up I go -
bursting to exhale and to take into my lungs
a refreshment of sweet oxygen.
A final surge of spirit . ..
and I’m breaking the surface.
The coral glow of breaking day rushes forth splendidly
to greet me.
The Time of the Summer Solstice
Drums pulsing solemnly presage the break of dawn,
bonfires ablaze dot this auspicious June morn.
On the shores of Albion, Druid priests converge,
as Earth, Sea, and Sky do mystically merge.
A circle of white-robed diviners and bards all a-chant,
amidst sacred oak and holly, as their hazel wands enchant.
The Dawn Ceremony begins the Summer Solstice,
awaiting the Sun’s majestic rise from the eastern abyss.
Rapidly waning is the dark of Spirit Night,
as the Sun God waits to unleash his most brilliant light.
Proudly the Summer King wears his crown at Alban Hefin;
but at Alban Arthan, he relinquishes it to his Dark Twin.
The Wheel of the Year relentlessly turns,
as each season ever changes and thus returns.
An eternal cycle of life, death, and rebirth,
it manifests the wonder of nature and Mother Earth.
Drums pulsing solemnly presage the break of dawn,
bonfires ablaze dot this auspicious June morn.
On the shores of Albion, Druid priests converge,
as Earth, Sea, and Sky do mystically merge.
05-26-2016
Contest: Summer Solstice
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Placement: 3rd
Notes:
Alban Hefin – the time of the Summer Solstice, The Light of the shore, by June 21st or 22nd. Light is at its maximum, and this is the time of the longest day. Starting at midnight on the eve of the Solstice, a vigil is held through the short night around the Solstice fire.
The Dawn Ceremony - marks the time of the sun's rising on this his most powerful day.
Dark Twin - the Sun-king is called the Holly King or Dark Successor (Tanist) in the Druid Calendar who reigns during the waning light of the year, until winter solstice.
Alban Arthan – the time of the Winter Solstice, called in the Druid tradition Alban Arthan or the Light of Arthur. This is the time of death and rebirth.
The Wheel of the Year – an annual cycle of seasonal festivals observed by the Druids and many pagans. It consists of four or eight solstices and equinoxes.
Spirit Night - The Summer Solstice was one of the three Spirit Nights of the year, the other two being Beltane and Samhain.
The sunlight doesn't seem as bright as before,
while Autumn's warmth is fast fading away.
And ominous grey clouds bring rains that pour:
sending kids scurrying inside to play.
Fall's exquisite colored leaves fall from sight,
till no trace remains; their beauty is brief.
And day relinquishes its length to Night,
as trees stand naked, not a single leaf.
The honking geese are all migrating south,
along with most of our precious songbirds.
And, daunting rumors, spread by word of mouth,
whisper, winter's near, in so many words.
While wailing winds start to whistle a tune
that warn winter flurries are coming soon.
Remnants owlish wisdom wafts through nighttime’s purple sky.
Fox settles down with her kits, against a nurturing oak stump.
Meadow and forest perform their nightly slumbering rituals.
Vigilant deer mama is resting in a bed of fescue next to her fawn.
Fireflies blink sheer happiness, laughing in Morse code.
Owl’s successive tri hoots are followed by coyote’s excited yips.
Forest and meadow slowly close their eyes, under the bright stars.
The day relinquishes her responsibilities to night, gladly.
It is a magical time when day and night greet each other, happily.
Come meet me when the sun has melted down
the mountains’ peaks like butter from the sky.
Come meet me far away from all the town.
It’s summer; on a blanket we can lie.
And although what is coming is foreknown,
we’ll still anticipate what is to come
when sun relinquishes to moon his throne.
Come lie with me and hear the evening’s hum.
How many are the songs of nature crooned -
those sweetest lullabies that we can hear?
We’ll listen in the gloaming, and attuned
to dusky sights and sounds, I’ll kiss you, Dear,
for soon to be enraptured by the moonlight,
with bliss we’ll linger on the edge of night.
Oct. 31, 2018 for Janis Thompson's Soap Opera Titles Poetry Contest
Our island ~ our beach ~ our love
As moments lazily pass, sighing breezes
we sit silent ~ adrift as a single composed symphony
tempo’d by the rhythmic surf ~ its constant sensuous flow
lulling our hearts, aching to collide
in one melodic breath
Horizons blush, love’s mist lingers
arms of cradling desire caress beauty ~ lone of seashell mosaics,
palm leaf shade, cool murmurs on warm sand
Your swollen lips offer a glistening enchantment~
their taste, salty pleasures of virginal mornings
Velvet waves entice ~ white foam illusions
drift quietly ~ carelessly ~ soothing
We too build and recede, feeding our amorous needs
As a slowly setting sun embraces an aquamarine sky,
you glow in effervescent shimmers at my touch
Our bond remains unbroken ~
tethered to an ocean’s hypnotic trance
your body against mine, skin upon glistening skin
merely to hold you ~ feel you~ kiss you,
is my coastal haven
Now as the fading light relinquishes its hold
and dusk splashes violet secrets on a weary sky ~
the tide becomes a single motion within us
for this is our island ~ our beach ~ our love
and it shall forever be
1/30/17
Melodious tides serenade along a foam dipped coast line,
we drift as a single composed symphony,
seduced by a pounding surf, its sensuous rhythm pulsates
flooding our hearts, aching to collide
in the tempo of a lone torrent’s embrace
Scorching tropical passions seize the moonlit sand,
palm tree shadows sway atop sultry weathered dunes
of lemongrass and saw palmetto,
on saltwater breezes moaning our names, mellifluously
from a quivering horizon
Warm dark rum skin intoxicates, I stagger,
lost in hypnotic topaz eyes, reflective pleadings
of deeper desires sought, fingertips probe sun softened locks,
nightshade tresses, mingling with a rippled surf
as stardust illumines moist swollen lips, parted
Harmonic waves wash atop entwined silhouettes
nearing a crescendo, a pinnacle of pleasure,
where secrets are revealed in half swallowed sighs
on this coastal haven when voices sing in
throaty whispers of impassioned ecstasy
Now as heated breaths hover beneath the moon’s glowing stare
we too build and recede, feeding our amorous desires
as the fading night relinquishes its hold and dawn cracks the sky
Our tide becomes one, our union remains unbroken,
our love, eternally bound by the melody of the sea
When you rise in the early morning long before the sun’s first light
you have this wonderful opportunity to eavesdrop on the music of the night.
If you don’t hear the music at first…wait!…it won’t be long…
before the crickets, whom you never see, choose the rhythm of the song.
Once you catch the rhythm…just as your body begins to sway…
as if the maestro pointed in their direction…the woodwinds begin to play.
Their music enters from every direction as you walk through the neighborhood…
The melody changing depending on how the wind chooses to whistle through the woods.
The woodwinds can enter loudly on a gust…or softly on a gentle morning breeze…
either way….wherever you turn…there is music in the trees.
Just as you’re thinking to yourself…is there a better way to start the day…
the birds pick up their horns…and the brass begins to play.
If you’re lucky…and you listen closely…sometimes the music of the night…
offers a violin concerto…of the hummingbirds in flight.
Some walks take a little longer…you stop more often…close your eyes knowing you don’t have to see…all you have to do is listen to nature’s morning symphony.
Sadly…when the sun begins its rise…the symphony quickly fades away…
as the music of the night relinquishes the stage to the music of the day.
But another symphony begins tomorrow…if you rise before the sun’s first light…
another opportunity awaits…to eavesdrop on the music of the night.
("Noh" is an ancient Japanese style of
drama, broadly similar to Elizabethan
tragedy. "The Wind in the Pines" is
my version of a well-known Noh play.)
2. The Beach, After Dark
The coast has drowned in the gloomy night,
but the moon shines. Two women in white
come along the shore - Matsukaze,
with her sister Murasame.
They seem to float like smoke, in dresses
with long, wide sleeves, their hair in tresses.
MATSUKAZE
The sad waves lap on our feet,
then slide back. Like hope, they meet
us running, then dissipate. Once spent,
they slink off, ashamed, but can't prevent
falling down to the cold sea.
This is how it must always be.
MURASAME
When the tide relinquishes its assault on land
and drains away, it is sure to strand
small pools among the boulders, strewn
along the beach. And, all too soon,
the life in these tiny oceans, forlorn,
will fade, like you and I, before the dawn.
MATSUKAZE
The moon can't cast any light through the pine.
Our lovely sleeves, weighted down with brine,
will tire us quickly. Crabs without shells,
we are women who have no lover. Smell
the sea fog, sister! Like a clammy dress,
it clings to us, like our loneliness.
MURASAME
Salt in everything. In our hair, our skin.
It sucks out our essence, leaves us thin
and pale. Our only company, the moon ...
and she will weaken and flounder, soon
enough. She stirs the ocean, churning
chill water, exciting in us a hopeless yearning.
MATSUKAZE
I hear the fishermen out on the sea,
and I want there to be a man for me.
They call, one to another. Out there.
I smell smoke stinging the air,
but no woodsman sees my boxwood comb.
They cut fresh reeds, not for my home.
MURASAME
Look, sister! The moon's in my pail!
And in yours, too. But there it sails,
up in the sky, singular, not two.
These little moons are like me and you,
illusions that can never truly be,
two facets of one destiny.
Asleep on a pile of hay
my dreams are waiting for the day
when summer relinquishes her ray
to a re-canvassed season of red clay ;
Burgundy leaves in the wind sway,
as September returns like a Jay
Sponsor Line Gauthier
Contest Name Bite Size Poem no51 |
LACHRYMATORY*
wasted on his grave
he can’t beat the soil to death
relinquishes tears
melts down handsome’s treasury
his golden eyes in her jar
9/6/2020
*tear jar
The petal has floated into a new vast world
The wind of harmony uplifts the petal
The petal is drifting with serendipity
The petal is in love
Bliss is all I see, floating on winds that freed me
Dancing with others in a swooning flurry
How long will nirvana last without my tree
Time, please do not hurry
Pity the perennial
They are isolated from winds of passion
Never taking a chance, never will they see unknown beauty
Why are they watching us while we explore all of mother nature's creation
Fading, the sun relinquishes my mortal soul
Withering away, the earth is reaping me
Crumbling, winds spread my ashes into the sunset
I am ready, sweet death
Saying goodbye to summer's
Unrelenting heat brings joy.
Munchkins return to the classroom and
Moms now have a moment's peace.
Eagerly I await autumn's flora and
Relish the delightful coolness of the weather as
Summer relinquishes her throne.
Enjoy the dregs of summer,
Now that the days grow shorter, but
Don't be sad - she'll return next year.
8/26/13
For Francine Roberts "Summer's End" contest
Locked in place on a high cross
Swords spoke the foreword
A quick glance at eternal peace
Combat defined his wounds
Only the pen of history
Penetrates his heavy armour
Behind his shield lies purgatory
At the height of an evil empire
Cracked dried lips to steel
Exposure to the kiss of death
Vanguard to a spiritual thirst
Glistening in the sun unsheathed
Doors open to unknown corridors
Momentarily blinded by a flood
Of light - vulnerable to carnivores
Engrossed in the scent of his blood
A costume designed to antagonize
Missiles of jeers from the masses
For the iron fist it symbolises
On their visibly anguished faces
Metal sparks fly to illuminate
The wide-eyed in the grandstand
Fireworks displayed in the court
On unchained blistered hands
A heavy heart to condemn
Stumbling in his reluctant march
Enslaved for the true price of freedom
A beheading at tip of Caesar's thumb
The first blow is on target
Sends his mind off on a tangent
Far beyond the castle walls
To a dream of a love lost and distant
Behind the lowered vice
Is a soldier wanted for treason
For gold and land promised, but
Never delivered for reasons never given
For centuries feared far and wide
The myth of a fire-breathing dragon
He relinquishes his mask – his pride
Lies dying of his wounds in the dungeon
When the battlefield still had honour
Before death became a spectator sport
For those with a twisted sense of humour
A gladiator once lived and fought
08-18-2015
Thabang J. Ngoma
Desperation creeps stealthily, into a disillusioned mind
Unanswered questions paralyzes, leaving one frozen in time
Tsunami waves of grief pound away, at the sad and troubled heart
Sorrow uniting with pain wrestling, pinning down hope from the start.
But,
A glimmer of hope shines bright, conquering sorrow and grief
Like a lighthouse, a beacon in the dark, to distant sailors relief
A faint response to a distressing SOS, in a time of stormy seas
God answers our great questions, responding to fervent pleas
Truth dissipates the haze of lies, that leave one dazed and confused
Shining through the fog of deception, we see hope, if we so choose
Drawing closer to the light of God's love, that we see in the distance
Hope rises anew, conquers doubt, sorrow then relinquishes resistance.
When we perceive of God's great love, it gives us hope and direction
Living with hope is an anchor sure, to our mental faculties, a protection
Hope now renewed, leads to faith, finally joy can appear on your face
The countenance shines, living in hope, grief now having been replaced.
John Derek Hamilton November 28,2015