Best Riffle Poems
Royal blue sky scattered sapphire clouds
On horizon embroidered in navy blue attire
Summoned by the onset of marigold sun
Emitting amber gold on tuscan yellow fire
Where tapestry of fluffy lavender floats
Decorating patterns of designs periwinkle
Mosaic of colors then spray-paint the water
Spreading a layer of golden yellow cover
Shimmering gold dust on twilight ripples
Abutting brushstrokes of dark blue egyptian
I saw you briefly where first time we met
On the lonely bridge that extends into bay
But as the dark landmass peeked its head
And the lifeless vegetation glinted despair
The tangerine breeze announced your exit
Quivering our aura beneath glittering riffle
For you refused to witness impending flame--
Broken vows ablaze in last breath of sunset
Written: August 4, 2018
Submitted on February 6, 2023 to:
2022 Poetry Marathon Qualifiers' FINAL Placement Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Submitted on December 7, 2022 To:
Placed 3rd: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 22 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Poem of the day on August 7, 2018
Placed first in standard contest #180 by Brian Strand
Categories:
riffle, heartbreak, sunset,
Form:
Free verse
Sometimes, I cannot help but sigh
and wonder--
wonder deep inside of me
whether I could ever be like you.
I riffle through the pages of my soul
and find a lot of them empty
Unlike yours, which seem to be bursting, blinding,
bursting, and still continuing to burst with brilliance...
So much so,
that your soul's light
has spread far and wide,
very much like sunlight's fingers
opening the morning sky curtains,
touching and warming
those who need it.
Tanglaw
Each step that you take,
each breath that you exhale,
each prayer that you whisper,
each beat of your heart
Tanglaw
I receive a smile,
and chat
with that man
who you've helped change...
Because of you,
the silent man now speaks, smiles.
You sit down to rest,
I see you talking to someone,
and I am almost fooled,
since you seem like old friends.
Because of you,
the lonely strangers become kindred.
It mystifies me sometimes,
of how you never seem to get tired.
It seems like I am the one who gets tired for you,
who gets worried for your own strength...
Then I see that glow from all around,
and I am reminded how you glean from this glow.
I see you as this beautiful ball of energy--
Never static,
bouncing from soul to soul,
illuminating parts of themselves
that even they never knew existed.
It is so amazing seeing this at work,
since the next thing I know,
the place is lit up,
Alive.
...and it is all because of you.
It makes me feel unworthy at times,
but oh how it also makes me feel so proud,
that I am a part of you,
and you are a part of me.
I have a lot of catching up to do,
since it seems I am lightyears from where you are
But I will try.
I will catch the tail end of your light,
clutch to it with my life, winding it around me,
let it embrace me--tight, so tight.
And I will never let it go. Never.
Until I also begin to glow.
Until I too, become that ball of light.
Hopefully when someone
riffles through the pages of my soul,
they will not find it blank,
but filled with gilt pages of light.
Just like yours.
Bursting and brilliant just like yours.
Tanglaw is pronounced "tang-lao"
Where I live, mothers are said to be the "light of the home"...
Categories:
riffle, dedication, life, love, me,
Form:
Free verse
Mist rises from the mountains and meets
rain clouds spilling down the canyon.
Fish ducks fly up river, their
breasts just skimming the water.
The heron stands in the shallows, his
neck arched, looking deep into the riffle.
Fish rise to feed in the cool water; the
river otters play on the grey rocks.
Rain drops like diamonds on the surface
of the water; peaceful moments on the river.
Just returned from a fishing trip on the Klamath River
in northern Ca. Glorious!
Categories:
riffle, life, nature, peace
Form:
Free verse
Thoughts of nothingness embrace the moonlight
caress the emptiness of pilfered light
drape it across the meadows in dull gray
to light a path for lover’s gone astray --
as crafty shadows hide their sin from sight.
A distant riffle mourns the tree strung kites
that never lived the dreams they thought they might
for something on the wind made them betray --
Thoughts of nothingness…
Cold stars will mock the stillness of their plight
as on a crooked moon their tears alight
to haunt a saddened mist upon the bay
adrift upon a tide that could not stay
but edges ever closer with moon’s height.
Thoughts of nothingness…
©4/19/2022
Your Favorite Theme Poetry Contest
Categories:
riffle, life, metaphor,
Form:
Rondeau
I riffle through memories of days gone
Like a junkyard of photo boxes
When viewing the past again sees the dawn
Of course, my favorite time it surely must be
Living in my GMC van conversion
Just my big Chesapeake dog, Cody and me
Gave up the rent and then gave up the job
Pursued a life of the struggled artist
Wanted to do what makes my heart throb
See new mountains and see new skies
Every night a new front door
See the world through different eyes
Expand my wings with my artists hands
New teachers mold a seeking mind
Make new friends across the wander lands
Those happy days with my very best friend
From Alaska to the New Mexico dirt
Excited as we looked around each wide bend
My dog and I lived the miles for 3 years and awhile
Hiked winding trails and swam the lakes
Many memories we happily made with our style
written: 10-5-2019
Categories:
riffle, adventure, art, dog, travel,
Form:
Rhyme
Winter Bound
Hindered by depth and breadth of winter
Blocked doors and windows on the cabin cliff remote
Imprisoned by three feet of snow and all those inches
Piling up outside, no where to go
Pines cling to memory of icicles below the tundra line
Like all good trees they freeze but never die
Over sleeping kept me from hunting deer
The realization of how quickly drifts can rise
Shear numbers of snow flakes conspiring
Cruel nature with wind and sky to hold me in
Now stuck inside the simple shelter fixed
Riffle and ammo sitting useless by the common fire place
No chasing prey this season, no reason to shoot the snow
It would only blow around and settle somewhere else
Winter bound, oats are my only sustenance, companion
Along with tea and lemon, not exactly the best of company
But will see me through, till things turn about
Closed in times advance
I become a captive audience of one
The only show in town watched now in wonder
On snowy mountain counting down the hours
Categories:
riffle, conflict, image, life, nature,
Form:
Free verse
I Long For Home...
I'm Gone And Alone...
Talking In Code...
Witch Is Encrypted...
With Depictions...
Of Jurisdictions...
I Don't Occur To Fit In...
With Your Religon...
Theres More Confliction...
Due To Your Past-Tence Belief's...
My Compasion Is Weak...
Drained And Dry...
My Emotions Stains The Sky...
Plain And White...
Can You Explain This Sight...
Where All Trained To Fight...
The Truth...
With Some Lie You've Used....
Like The Timeless Fuse...
Spirulling Nowhere...
With No Care's Or Problems...
Compared To Concious...
It's A Peaceful Place...
Where People Wait...
I've Gotta An Eagle's Grace...
This Precieveable Fate...
Is What Ahead...
Like Currupted Feds...
That Touch The Bed...
With All The Evidence...
And Elements...
Needed To Be...
Do You Believe In The Dreams...
The Deciple John Had...
Where There Riffle On Lands...
And Smiles Con Man's... True Intent...
To Really Be Confused With This...
Life We Have..
We Might Be Mad...
At These Times We Have...
Categories:
riffle, depression
Form:
leaf
tumbling
down to pond
rings ripple ring
song
Categories:
riffle, tree,
Form:
Lanterne
Naught but a billowed vagabond
A breeze longing to shriek
Soar on an eagle’s up draft
Plunge, predator-like, to earth
Riffle the grasses as I pursue
The limitations of my fate
Categories:
riffle, dream, wind,
Form:
Free verse
The plain song moves
Drifting on the wind
Flags riffle
At its passing
A nervous horse
Prances and kicks
Death pauses
Wipes his plate
For rich feeding
Combat approaches
Categories:
riffle, conflict, death, war,
Form:
Free verse
What's the espresso this evening, Rubicam?
My random access memory will light upon it
As I riffle the files of my brain.
Pulling out something fresh,
I burst out with words to cover the enigma.
Bones
Bones are the fare--
Stewed bones with marrow deep inside.
Cracking the bones of the chicken leg,
I find essence,
Everlasting purity so well stored and tucked away,
Like a savings account or DNA.
The vapor of mud rises fleet and narrow.
This is the conduit of the inner sanctum,
The railroad across Canada in the snow.
Red vertigo covers the wheels as they turn,
Rolling asunder like a sky.
We eat and gorge on the beauty of it--
The holy thing--
Sent all holy and shiny new.
We split the marrow with a scalpel,
All sharply tooled and honed.
The operation is a success at last--
Liberation is at hand surely.
The vice has fallen away,
And the orange center is revealed.
My word-center is on autopilot;
I am still, silent, patient.
Then the marrow grows overabundant,
Needing quick hands to capture the thief,
Lest escape be granted.
The expository hose is drawn up.
The bare leg is covered and modesty satisfied.
There is no canker in this truth,
Being pure to the core,
Pure as blood-marrow.
The stigma is gone out of it.
Holy is the anthem and the chorus
Sings a greeting to the little people
Who stand waiting in line.
They watch for some illumination
Of the dark letters written on their souls
Bandits would not deride them
in such an instance.
Horses in a fever will trample words,
But words re-form; they cannot die.
You who bear the mystery,
Who cannot die,
You have palpated my heart
And signified a vast reference point,
Pleading to me with a sad song.
My turbulence is all inside me,
A stormy affair,
Always sorting and reeling back with shock
As the ivy vine climbs the ancient wall.
If you had no device,
Would you not read more books?
The man dignified in the third person
Will ask the questions here, mind you.
Return to me again loon of the wide lake,
Loon hiding in the reeds.
Show me your face before you fly,
And sound your voice in the evening.
Categories:
riffle, deep, imagery, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
America
Well you should have seen turkey Sal
She fills herself with packs of Pall Mall
And not to forget about Coonskin-Cap Jack
Always a-travelling with a riffle on his back
The greatest thing a man can see
Is the vast environment of Tennessee
But I can't state that myself-
I love all of the country
America,
great plains and tall pines
Deep blue lakes and mountain peaks
High water and deep coal mines
Country houses and dense streets
I see a horse grazing on the prairie
And begin to think about the heritage
What Westward-bound means
And what is, in fact, genuine
But it is time for greetings,
the time to thank
For what the harvest brought,
what we got from the land
America,
fifty-states of well-being
Some territories far removed
Beauty emerges for all the seeing
Places warm, places cool
The founding fathers, I respect so much
For they stood up for liberty and independence
Washington, Franklin, Paul Revere
As I am reading Thomas Payne's 'Common Sense'
So if I'll set foot on American soil one day
I'll be proud of the way I have come
Because in essence, Americans are the same as me
Only, they know the true meaning of freedom
America,
Lush visions of crippled desire
Brought to me by endless visons
Only connected by the telephone wire
The communicative prison
What the future will bring is uncertain
But this nation will stand the test of time
Greatness doesn’t have to be restored;
Greatness is merely a state of mind
So come now, and share a thought
Choose your leaders wisely and be assured
That whoever will become President
Will do what he/she should
The advertising man looks down on his desk
And finds ads from the archives
It says: ‘1958, Lester and Grove Inc.’
He gets a glass of Bourbon
Does he represent America?
The heavy workload, the tired workhorses
The freedom of working is no freedom at all
But it is far better than them communist dogs
America,
Deserts and far stretched woods
A fire in my heart, a warm embrace
The sunset gives a certain mood
To a man on a wild-goose chase.
Categories:
riffle, america, thanksgiving, usa,
Form:
Epic
Sitting, Breathing, Learning
Mountain breezes riffle Cottonwood leaves
on the towering tree
outside my window
they rescue my focus from work
as deep memory calls forth
a poem by Allen Ginsberg
written at a Buddhist retreat
musing about exhales
in Grand Teton National Park
and their travels around
a spinning planet
before returning to sharp
craggy places of origin
waiting in line patiently
to once again become inhales
off to make
the same journey of roundness…
even the examined life
is like that you know,
repeating the same dances
making costume changes
re-doing make-up
in order to fool us into thinking
experiences are new and fresh
like juicy ripe fruit, just picked
when in truth it’s just
another face on the same old same old
for me to repeat until I finally touch
the essence of the exercise
one fine day perhaps
just sitting, breathing and learning, as
mountain breezes riffle Cottonwood leaves
on the tree outside my window…
Categories:
riffle, destiny, growth, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
Standing thigh high on the riffle,
Feeling the current pull at my knees.
Breathing deep.. my world is calm now,
Winged beauty drifting by on the breeze.
My line floats out like a feather,
And patiently waits a strike from below.
My soul seeks the magic of water,
I'm lost in its ebb and its flow.
I admit its really not about catching,
I don’t care if the prey is that clever.
The light gently leaving the canyon,
I want to hold this moment forever .
Why to we fight daily battles
Looking for fortune or fame?
I turn from this life of unease,
The river is calling my name.
.
Categories:
riffle, fishing, water,
Form:
Quatrain
A hunting riffle
And a yell…
On the blue shade of silence
Scratches:
Flashes light in the horizon
The quietness…
Worms spin the fortune wheel;
Interfere with mermaids’ songs-
Pierced by the arrow
The sunset is blocked
Between the eyelashes.
(translated by Laura Bogdan )
Categories:
riffle, inspirational,
Form:
Lyric