Best Reservoir Poems
Draped in silent fog, is a reservoir of dreams
weathering each season, with a mystifying scheme …
On a wind-swept shelf, she is silently sleeping
Where secrets are guarded and are hers for the keeping
Looking out at the tide, where the seagulls are sweeping
In her moldering courtyard, where quadrivial paths meld,
Among ancient arches of an old Spanish style
Names locked in history, many stories revealed
Etched in the headstones, where angels have dwelled
The cracked marble fountain with polished ligures,
Above the church doorway, vines are withering, bare
Aloft from the steeple, are the four watchful eyes
Looking out to the sea, and the deep crimson tide
Three vestige bells dangle from loft, overhead
Their voices are quiet, with pericopes spoken
Soft hymns of doves, fill the rafters, instead
From crumbling ruins, bricks humbly laid
There are shadows of saints...and moss covered jade
A weeping old willow, with leaves crackling dry
I drink with my ears, and listen with an eye
Of all those who prayed, for those who passed by
Unbelievable echoes, the tolling of the bells
Making sense of the senseless, I can hear what it tells
Giving voice to my feelings, and new hope to my eyes
A peace in my heart, where the holy grail lies
Are heard in the voice, in the church of blue tides
____________________________________________________________________
For The Contest Sponsored By Shadow Hamilton "Any Subject"
Using Words: unbelievable, mystical, ligure, pericope, reservoir, quadrivial,
7/22/13
Runners, joggers, wheeler, hikers -
They feel the power of nature's glow, with breeze and sun
Then with such course, the walking dead joins in? or shun?
Each runner's course is rough, then smooth
They and the jogger feel lifted up, by golden rule
Hikers hike, and what do they feel? zeal!
Like wheeler; they, too, zip up for fresh air's meal
Runners, joggers, wheeler, hikers; they all know who rules
Even walkers are a pert of their pool... in which
The Maker of breeze, and nature's glow and sun
Holds reservoir of sap fit for everyone.
*
In your restless slumbers you feel me,
I know you feel me.
Always by your side like an iron rusted sword
Dull to the touch and stranded to the length of your back.
Your sudden sighs will be the ocean churning and
The waves that collapse against the shore.
Every ache you undergo will emit a moan
So loud and locked away that even the sky will mourn
And it’s rains will fall for you alone.
Each dripping drop will attempt to match your insides
From the moment the first moon beams hit your windowsill
Till the sun ascends in an incandescent dawn
That pinkens the walls of your chambers.
You look beyond a naked field to
A moon which eases with every passing moment.
Beckoning you to dreams and thoughts that lay like scars and stains.
Come, they whisper.
Come listen to the symphony of our affairs.
Come watch these green waters turn to gold.
Travel the world and reach the end
Only to find that you still want.
But here, with no one around in this volatile room,
With no eyes peering but the licks of lighted candles,
You’ll plead no to a nameless fear
As you swallow the back of your mind.
Let an open mind in,
Allow it to listen.
And as you glance over to vacancy from
Your worn and heated side,
The skies will shudder with every hope and every lie
That even Socrates cannot deny these tries.
But in the half light of my own room
I wish to be your broken record
Or the lead singers private microphone.
Kiss my finger tips and drink in the residue of fountain pens.
I will plaster each phrase to my bedroom wall
Where I live to see that the writing never flows.
That each excerpt is choppy and final.
That every quote is bold and blush.
The frayed and shredded nursery wallpaper,
Shimmering pink with sudden audacity,
Will reflect moodily and ambiguously of my shattered thoughts.
With kudos to a grandmother Mary,
I slowly lift a frozen face from underneath a pillow.
After a minute of self doubt and realization
That settles like pin pricks on the palms of my hands,
I slide the idle face back into it’s sheath
Then contemplate the curiosity of my own slumber.
While ignoring every hope of sleep,
I’ll thread two nimble fingers through an open flame,
Stare provokingly into the shadows on the ceiling,
Get bored,
Get lonely,
And think of you.
Needed rain
To fill
The reservoir
Of heart
The reservoir the very thought...
...lay rippling...
detour at thought I leaped...
Cascading memory...
distant found respect...
recall upon thought provoked...
in distant sound I dwell...
To stardom once disfigurement...
the message I do tell...
To rescue ones' desire...
To enable delicate touch...
To breathe the nearer reservoir...
The detour I do trust...
With passion we prevail...advance
To linger in the memory...
Thought rippling with dance
...reservoir still rippling
Reservoir
Filled with quiet secrets
Often hidden from our sight
There's stillness to the surface
In depth, there's strength and might.
People gather and are drawn to
The impressive stature, surely
There is peace around this entity
In spite of walls, so burly
Made by man it may be
But a lesson lies within..
There's a sense of holy presence
Past the water's surface, thin.
With it's patience comes the wisdom
To relieve our hearts, so dry
And the fresh taste of the truth is
Of a purpose from on high
In the dryness of this season;
Parched air cracking at our throats
We hear hope of restoration
As we huddle in our boats
A reservoir we can all be..
Attractive bright and pure.
From stillness starts a journey
To the driest captive's door
Let's aspire to be filled up
With that clear pure water, bright.
May the tired, the lost, the thirsty
Be the ones to know respite
And as rain descends from heaven
Filling hearts up to the brim
What we capture will define us;
How we fall and how we win.
So avoid the murky waters
As you travel round this land
Be the bringer of refreshment
In your words and in your hand
Let the purest water top up
Every deep part of your soul
May the parts of you together
Make you more than just the whole.
Jinjagoliath
10th January 2021
(An Addingham Poem)
quivering breeze coax
ripples across the surface
corrugated clouds
© Harry J Horsman 2020
Carbonation's bubbles
create inside of me
A reservoir of burps
waiting to be freed
When they're released
at the 'perfect time'
Incredibly effective
as lol lines
Poplars
against the rising moon;
filled full of roosting cormorants-
sleeping;
as
long shadows,
rippling between
reflections of scudding clouds-
where evanescent images
settle.
At in the twilight
Reservoir bears nightfall sun
Frost just start to fall.
Walking the reservoir, parched and dry,
beneath white hot sun in cloudless sky;
through shimmering haze that sears the soul
sucking all life from the water hole.
Vacuum lungs cough words that sigh,
arid prayers breathed to mountain’s high,
emploring the heaven’s to weep and cry
yet grass burns black from moisture stole,
walking the reservoir.
To prayers cast there is no reply,
on scorching thermals vulture’s fly
and crazy-paved cracks will take their toll,
a life-blood drought in this dustbowl,
all good intentions blaze and die
walking the reservoir.
Let’s go visit the Bermuda Triangle of New Jersey someone said.
The place where many missing boaters are found enormously dead.
Twenty-six people have disappeared in the lake, according to the masses.
One body floated out four years later, and this guy was wearing his glasses.
It’s the weirdest place according to Jacques Cousteau, who took his sub out.
A terrific place to bring a rod and reel and catch a wide mouthed trout.
It will be fun! Let’s go! The bodies of six men have never been found.
Frankly I say, if one comes up, I would not rather be around.
The reputation of this lake is that if a body appears,
Another will soon replace it, which is one of my fears.
Lights over this reservoir have looked like an alien ship.
Sorry, I tell my cousin. Please count me out of this trip.
She moves the swirling tenacious
wind out of her path...
She sways with her tamed breeze...
with her love she has charmed...
In this her day...this day...this life
she reigns...
She greets the moon -
on ragged mountain high...
...as she breathes the nearer -
you'll not hear her cry...
...a single tear - the covenant of her
all...her anger dispelled...her magic
restored...
everything she is and will be...this tear
her signature - her now her all...
...her belief not someone else s truth...
...in a rescued child's smile...
she feels her stolen youth...
...she moves the wind all seasons...
forgotten dreams follow her...
...her path redeemed...
...It is here she'll not falter
...her strength...her belief...
...the wind uncertain - to search a new
direction...this path perplexed...
she'll not cry - only one tear she'll shed...
...her reservoir of strength -
...a tear she'll not cry...
...a tear she'll not share...
this her reservoir of strength...
you will not bend...nor break...
...this her reservoir of strength -