Best Revelation Poems
She briskly walks in January’s rain,
which drums the endless rhythm of her pain,
pulling closer round her shoulder in the downpour
the leather jacket he so often wore.
Another day like this she can remember
when he had worn the jacket, and against her
he’d pressed as they stood kissing in the rainfall.
The world could wash away; he was her all!
No storm could stop their loving as they raced
with great anticipation to his place.
Before they’d even reached the bedroom door,
they’d flung their rain-soaked clothes along the floor.
Underneath the sheets, though cold and wet,
they madly kissed. He was as passionate
as winter’s storm away from which they’d run,
and yet he warmed her like sweet summer’s sun!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She‘s almost home; the rain has nearly died.
She thinks of all the nights she lay and cried.
While thinking how the rainstorm’s cold still lingers,
inside the jacket’s pockets she moves her fingers.
In the lining of one pocket, her fingers meet
a crumpled piece of paper - an old receipt -
its date from when, without a word, he’d left their town
and in the city, by a drunk had got run down.
The piece of paper gives her now a revelation-
A high class jewelry store had been his destination.
He’d planned to ask her very soon to be his wife.
and bought a ring there on that last day of his life!
His parents gave his jacket to her, yet
she’d always guessed the worst for why he’d left.
What happened to the ring? She cannot know.
But now her tears with bitter sweetness flow.
For Brian Strand's All Yours (Jan 21) Poetry Contest
A Revelation
Sunrise greeted me through a purple haze.
The softest cooling breeze caressed my cheek.
Mauve filtered into rose clouds to amaze
As prayerful meditation I did seek
Communion’s Divine guidance in my mind.
Did I hear the flutter of angel wings?
Your answer, to just release I did find.
When wrapped in Your agape love my heart sings.
Today I will begin my brand new start.
I leave my sorrow of loss in the past.
I let Your bright light fill my soul, my heart,
Let worries flee in calmness that will last.
As dawn fills morning skies in ev’ry hue
I know my great salvation lies with You.
4-26-22
Poem of the Day April 28, 2022
Thank you very much Poetry Soup Team.
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE ~Sixth Place~
Contest Judged: 4/29/2022
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Revelation…
How do I know that what is divine?
What does he do now? I need a sign.
I am uncertain what the truth is,
All the prophets or a mouth full of wine.
I am like a fish; live in a bowl.
To live in the sea it is my goal.
What if the bowl is the sea I seek?
The sea and I are one as a whole.
How can I trust you on such and such?
How can you feel it without a touch?
Eyes are so blinded; how can you see?
Your blessed divine is much too much.
I am a divine as good as him.
Once, I was shining, now old and dim.
I did not come from Adam and Eve,
I live in a bowl, ready to swim.
If you want to find it, go within.
Break your cage and let your life begin.
All it is is good and all divine.
We are here to play and not to win.
If the thing you seek is everywhere,
How can you see it is here and there?
The books were all written long ago,
Is there a divine? I do not care.
Maybe my darkness lights up the world.
I hope that our world will shine like gold.
No more killing that, what divine is,
What that I had said had to be told.
I will live my life ready to fly.
I'll be part of Earth the day I die.
There is no heaven; there is no hell.
When the time is here, I’ll say goodbye.
11/11/19
I dreamed I was inside a bulb—
a cathedral of filament and glass—
not dead
not born…..
but shumming**.
Glass walls curved like time
sealed but translucent
my fingers curled around voltage
like a secret
God was transcending.
The socket hummed a lullaby
of static.
Every breath of mine made sparks
the air electric
with grief
and longing.
I saw myself outside the bulb
in a room wallpapered with eyes—
each iris twitching
like a seismograph.
They watched
as I shimmered like an angel
in a jar of fire
as if I were proof
of something
too holy
or too hideous
to name.
The room beyond
glistened with wallpapered surveillance—
each gaze a blink
each blink
a test of identity
a hymn of entropy
and wonder.
I touched the glass—
cool as frozen memory
thin as a promise—
and the world on the other side
shuddered
like a dream woken
too soon
My thoughts turned tungsten—
spiraled
stubborn
resisting
the spark of enlightenment
or extinction
I spoke
and the words bent back
like boomerangs
buzzing
with static regret
A child approached
barefoot
real
impossibly tender…..
She looked like someone
I might have loved
if time had taken pity.
She placed her palm on the bulb—
her skin against my sorrow
the warmth of it
startling
as mercy
a forgiveness.
“Why are you in there?”
she asked
or perhaps
thought—
her voice the color
of candlelight.
I tried to answer
but my vocal cords was hardwired
my tongue
a fuse
My words came back
distorted
looped
charred
as if language
were combustible.
For a moment
I flickered
between purpose
and obliteration
Then
the ceiling cracked open
like a wound
and light poured down—
not to reveal
like revelation
like judgment—
to burn away
the questions
And I understood—
not everything illuminated
is meant to be seen
not all vision
is freedom…..
Some truths
are meant to flicker
fragile and holy
inside the bulb of the soul
unspoken
unchosen
alive.
================
**Shumming: Shimmering Humming
I’d caught you with her in your arms,
in my heart I knew you’d not cheat-
but you flashed HER that smile;
that smile reserved for me ...
it was such a tender moment
as you cradled our baby girl!
HEXASTICH IT Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Nette Onclaud
05/26/20
Nyx opened black arms
threading her twilight fingers
and cradled my awe
to turn my hair, white
she filled my eyes with stars
firing a comet to
the core of my heart
my second breathe
carved dragons of fire,
as Aeolus filled each lung,
Terpsikhore sang music
into the life and death
of this epic
~~~~~
I taste a southerly breeze
catching it on the tip of my tongue
rolling it into my lungs
I sing appegio
to throw a shadow of night
the circle of her arms
has tightened,
and the nebula
in my eyes,
threaten to shoot
from their sockets
I have finally
felt the meteor
lodged in my heart,
move in its longing
for one last blaze
of release,
only the breath of God,
holds for revelation
~~~~~
TERPSIKHORE (or Terpsichore) was one of the nine Mousai,
the goddesses of music, song and dance. In late classical times
--when the Muses were assigned specific literary and artistic
spheres--Terpsikhore was named Muse of choral song and
dancing, and represented with a plectrum and lyre.
AIOLOS (or Aeolus) was the king of the winds who kept the
stormy Anemoi Thuellai and Aellai locked away inside the hollow
heart of the floating island of Aiolia. At the command of the gods
he released these to wreck devastating storms. Since the Winds
were often conceived of as horse-shaped spirits, Aiolos was titled
Hippotades, "the reiner of horses," from the Greek hippos ("horse")
and tadên ("reined in tightly").
Trillions of suns, my mind is awed
Distances as unfathomable as the face of God
In sense living, and sense divine
To lose myself, I find other minds
It’s not insignificance, the growing feeling
But connectedness leaves my soul reeling
Not random chemistry on a spiritless grid
But divinity that is no longer hid
4/20/16
Like the speed of light a revelation
came; knowledge entered portals of the brain
Then the thoughts disappeared what deflation
A seed planted with light wisdom a gain
Darkness a seed of Satan's devices
Slipped into the brain's portals quietly
When darkness floats in, sits, all pay the price
The body, soul, and spirit dies nightly
An implantation of evil that grows
A darkness that spreads with thick evil wings
The web spreading out 'til emotions enclose
Blackness covers the brain, heart, feelings
At the speed of light, wisdom opens doors
Darkness settles into a being's stores
Name: Giorgio V
Contest:Relate Poem To Quote
Poet: Sara Kendrick
Written over several days in December 2013
Quote:"Everybody talks about the speed of light,
but what is the speed of darkness?" Anonymous
She grabbed at the quarter full pop bottle neck,
cream soda from Marsh’s,
and held like a truncheon, in the harshest
of voices
produced an otherworldly sound, GETOUT!!
“Give me a chance” and he stepped forward.
Stood aside her I moved towards
“****ing try it”
I’d never seen those eyes.
GETOUT!!
He turned and left.
He never normally got angry,
or swore.
I’d only heard him twice before.
Once as a just unwrapped Dunlop 65, badly hooked, hit the Irish Sea and brought blasphemy and profanity,
“Jesus ****ing Christ”
and as he handed me his driver an inappropriate hidden smirk from me,
his Sunday morning caddy,
for a couple of shots and 20p
The second at Elland road,
stood on the Gelderd End Kop,
Clarke swivelling before side footing in from twelve yards with me sat atop
a stanchion,
him stood behind,
“Get the f*** in” and he shook me as I cheered,
right arm aloft,
scarf tied on the wrist,
mimicking Sniffers celebration.
Sharing in the mass elation.
The best birthday treat.
It wasn’t our fight.
The adults crumbled.
We were let down on all sides.
Pre safeguarding times.
No support, no care.
Only the adults got choices,
not the era to listen
to five scared tyke voices.
The
door
was
open
I
wandered
in
amazed
silence
solitude
alone
with
my
thoughts
He
spoke
then
sat
listening
we
dined
He
became
a
friend
I
became
as
a
child
Rev 3.20
My rhymes are not to stimulate
Nor accommodate for the way you feel
But it is who I am
That is the admiration
Behind my self-expression
Regardless of imagination or fiction
It is the real world,
My real life
That flows from my mind to my pen
From my pen to my paper
And from my paper to society
That needs to realize,
When it comes to me
I’m just keeping it real
Everyday events
Seem to trigger my senses
For my fingers will penetrate
And they’ll be nothing left but
A harmonizing ring
A song that seems to sing
A melodic tune of what I do
I won’t reason my feelings
But I can analyze
And learn to grow from where I am
Take a look back, and not
Justify my state of mind
But to let me be
And let it go
A poet is not defined
By the clothes they wear
Or how many poems they write
But the impact of their words
And the truth in what they speak
A poem is not defined
By how long or short it seems
Or whether it rhymes
But how it exemplifies you
And how it is plain to see
That without a doubt
It could only be
The work of a poet, me…
I reevaluate the situation
And my infatuation seems to grow
And yet you still should know
That I’m real
That this is real
And yes, I still keep it real
And nonetheless,
I may never stop
As my rhymes continue
All my thoughts revealed
U n c o n s c i o u s while the entire universe
fights against her reality,
she seems to have been MISTAKEN…
She makes all things decent worse,
holding an insensitive mentality,
while all her inhibitions have been TAKEN-
She carries on without contemplation,
forcing her into an oblivious revelation.
C o n t i n g e n t upon her choice to let go,
she reveals the reasons she was rejected-
Stoic and heedless, she craves CONCERN…
Preoccupied with loss she sinks below,
never feeling appreciated or connected.
For absorption of memories she does YEARN.
She craves the desire of a burning sensation,
Forcing her into an oblivious agitation.
N e g l i g e n t to life, she’s always distracted,
feeding off intellect while absent-minded-
Uncurious as to why she’s never felt LOVE…
She once found hope but she overreacted,
and always had to be kindly reminded,
that sometimes awareness comes from ABOVE.
She feels a rush of an inadvertent obliteration,
forcing her into an oblivious orientation.
Form O-Only One
Sponsor, Broken Wings
May 8, 2017
When The White Horseman rides you will know.
Retribution and Conquest prevail,
only their names and faces
changeable and interchangeable,
and healing is buried in silent craft.
The White Horseman rides, we know.
When The Red Horseman rides you will know.
No peace is split by war
for no real peace could ever be,
and war splits only war
and multiplies its wars.
The Red Horseman rides, we know.
When The Black Horseman rides you will know.
In shadow of war and shadow of drought
and shadow of master’s avarice,
Famine places its arbitrary touch
on man, woman, child, eaten by their own.
The Black Horseman rides, we know.
When The Pale Horseman rides you will know.
Death arrived by its own devices
and persists at its own strange whim,
fallen the vanquished and the victor alike
and fallen the rabble between.
The Pale Horseman rides, we know.
25th February 2019
What Would Santa Claus Say
by Michael R. Burch
What would Santa Claus say,
I wonder,
about Jesus returning
to Kill and Plunder?
For he’ll likely return
on Christmas Day
to blow the bad
little boys away!
When He flashes like lightning
across the skies
and many a homosexual
dies,
when the harlots and heretics
are ripped asunder,
what will the Easter Bunny think,
I wonder?
NOTE: The biblical book of Revelation says that Jesus will murder children himself for their mother's sins, in the letters to the Churches. But he won't stop there, according to the writer of Revelation, because after all the earth's creatures have sung the praises of God, a third of them will be destroyed in acts of bloody carnage, along with a third of human beings. That's trillions of animals and billions of people. I can't believe the compassionate Jesus of the gospels, who had table fellowship with prostitutes and refused to stone an adulteress, is going to suddenly start murdering their children and become the greatest serial murderer of all time. And how can the man who taught us to put aside religious differences to practice compassion in the Parable of the Good Samaritan not follow his own advice? Jesus reserved all his sternest criticism for hypocrites, so wouldn't he have to live up to his own teaching?
TELL me, dear, everything which occupies you
LAY each piece out, display your soul
SELL me utterly all components, oldest to new
SAY absolute etirety, without any toll
FEEL my hands reaching musty content gently
DRAWN out painlessly, your dark place
REVEAL shame and sins as though incidentally
TORN from humiliation without a trace
BEGIN to trust your ribcage, competent holder
Of HEART, outlandish desires wrapped
WITHIN terror of memory allowed to smoulder
DEPART from a prison, ribcage relaxed
IMMERSED in latitude, stream jumping joyous
FORGIVENESS view gifts expansion
TRAVEVERSED in unison, a vocalised voyage
DELIVERS cognition spun in tandem
BLUEST of blue moons we nurture, accessible
GIVING your mind renews our reward
TRUEST thoughts I massage make it possible
LIVING with wisdom, sharing one orb
13th November 2020
Written for Contest: In Rhymes Sublime
Sponsor: Joseph May