Best Riverbeds Poems
ROSES ON THE MOON
Midnight tickles your turned-up toes,
dawn scrapes your knees
but your head is already in daylight
kissing the setting sun and not me.
The scent of musk and the north woods
spark a scene then the rush…
don’t believe everything whispered
under a sage moon.
Memory is the landscape,
longing the river that meanders
like a lost child in dream.
The waters lead to dried riverbeds
and forgotten photographs, flotsam
on the once raging river.
Suddenly I find myself nowhere
making sunshine out of oranges,
searching for roses on the moon.
Flow
with me
along
the
rivers of
common
sense,
eroding
the
riverbeds
of
tribalism
and
racism,
revitalising
the very
essence
of man's
existence.
Flow
with me
you will
get the
sense.
Dine
with me
on the
table of
realism
and
enjoy
the
fruits of
collectivism.
Because
you
donot
see
beyond
races
and
tribes,
you will
call me
*****.
Because
you
think
with
limitations,
you will
see me
inferior.
You wil
diffuse
your ego
in your
own
biased
prejudices
because
you do
not see
beyond
the
physical.
Because
you are
not like
me,
I am
black
proud
and
honoured.
I
humble
my
blackself
before
your
racial
utterances
because
i know i
am
reason
for envy.
I am the
blackest
black,
the one
racists
choose
to hate
because
i am a
living
testimony
to their
fallacy.
You will
call a
brother
*****
because
you
think
with
limits.
You will
see
another
inferior
because
you do
not see
beyond
the
physical.
I am the
blackest
black,
flow
with me
here,
dine
with me
you will
see i
nothing
lack.
I go in search of an elusive Muse.
Her flight has left my vessels cracked and dry.
Shafts of moonlight bathing o’er savannah,
radiates no mist of magic in my mind,
where once we danced in step with wildest drums
and from my pen out flowed the words with ease.
An artist on a trapeze I swing with ease,
I ride a flying carpet in the arms of my Muse,
conquering worlds to the battle echo of the drums.
Never did I dip my pen in ink all dry,
I lived a fancy dream world in my mind,
exotic fantasies in wild savannah.
The moon a giant pearl in my savannah,
with wind a soothing breeze, I slept with ease.
The warmth of night shadows reassured my mind,
vanquished my phantoms as I journeyed with my Muse
ever gracious, her gift jars never dry.
Words poured out unceasing from her drums.
But now I feel the silence of the drums,
menacing clouds float over savannah,
the grassy plains once green, now are dry.
A flock of birds have plucked my words with ease,
like leaves they gather to lay at the feet of the Muse.
I am a scarecrow left bare and empty of mind.
My pen drags, no words come out my mind,
the ghosts of dead poets beat the drums,
marching, losing rhythm, without my Muse.
I beg the wind to find her in savannah,
bring her back to me, my pain to ease,
to cease poetic juices from bleeding dry.
My riverbeds continue to run dry,
without my Muse, I know I’ve lost my mind,
I can’t afford to leave the Art with ease.
In mysterious chambers deaf to the drums
I retire to salve my wounds in deep savannah,
and dream of waking up at the touch of my Muse.
I wait for my Muse, though she has left me dry,
In savannah I shall stay until my mind
hears the drums, again to write with ease.
March 2011 spring is on the way
The sea is Calm slight haze on the bay
The sea is our life the fishing is good
We depend on the ocean for our livelihood
Rumble in the distance buildings begin to shake
Screaming shouting it’s an earthquake
Riverbeds are dry as the water reseeds
Nowhere to run nowhere to hide
Run run faster as quick as you can
Got to get higher every woman child and man
The town has been consumed devastation everywhere
People are in shock cries of despair
Sky drenched in flame dust in the air
Such immense power natures so unfair
The sea is usually benign but not two day
Twenty thousand souls washed away
This cannot be we learned from the past
Built the levies higher built them to last
No matter what we do it will never be enough
Natures to strong and where not strong enough
Written by M.BURTON
brilliant wings, gentle
coasting over riverbeds ~
silencing the sun
graceful, gliding smiles
lingering on the roses ~
reassuring peace
Spring Flower, Bird or Butterfly Haiku x 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
February 12, 2023
Of all the Little Kings climbing
Hand over foot towards viciously tantalizing, grandiose
Constellations of which whir and buzz as wind up toys,
Glow worm manifestations
Of hanging mobile stars suspended from thread
Woven by The Fates from dreams vicarious
And still-warm brick oven hopes
Nestled sweetly in the ribcages' soft marrow,
My chest, agape, crackling with never quite dried blood,
The wound steaming fresh loneliness--a shrine
To the Stillborn--
Is stuffed clumsily on chubby, greased palms
With fresh wishes on old pennies,
Words teaming with glimpses of goodnight kisses
And soft, innocent breaths stirring upstream like salmon,
By the tenderness of only one Tarot Sage
And my Heart's desert riverbeds
Eagerly absorb a rain.
"Forever Young, or; Evan The Sage"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith
You tell me your prentends,
We step over the ballroom so slow.
You dare be honest?
Well so will I: We both know,
Forevers you intend are impossible,
Time and place is unstoppable,
Even though it pains to show,
We need to readily go...
Down salty: the riverbeds,
Where lovers drank liquid lead,
And never thought twice,
Nor reconsidered.
Actions that appear harmless,
In the moment, smile,
Sure no tears be shed.
Ignorance like ice,
Ignore the upcoming bile.
For lying gains no intimates,
But envy from enemy,
Hand in mouth; oxymoron,
Season's change denying virgin snow.
In the past, touching lying faces,
I have seen them lie their heads low.
Chatterbox mouth,
And teeth so rotten.
Dare not speak, you say to me...
"I love you, my sweet,
My one, my only friend."
Embracing the earth,
I would gladly be ,
If not certain was I,
That this is the end.
Spring’s fading flowers
Worn down rocks on riverbeds
Trees losing their leaves
Is this growing old?
Is this what it is to age?
Not if you get there…
Spring’s perennials
The rivers water flowing
The trees budding leaves
The ones who fight age
Still lose to time in the end
The dance crude and vain
Those that grow with age
Gain wisdom, moments of joy
The dance elegant
Sincerely live life
Honestly love and be loved
Truly be happy
Unfortunately
Life’s lessons can be cruel, hard
But still there’s meaning…
Into the bargain
Life’s lessons make one stronger
If you choose to learn…
You have to grow up
But stay a child in your heart
And you won’t grow old
Age is the price paid
But the cost is no real loss
And profits are big
The wealth of your life
Is how many friends you have
Not how much money
The income, wisdom
To find your bliss in spirit
To learn, teach, live, love
Called the golden years
Some would say age is a curse
Really rusty years
Age has its drawbacks
The body starts to break down
The mind wanders off
Age is a challenge
Getting old can try your soul
Sometimes breaks your heart
Aging can be hard
Sometimes there’s sickness and pain
Loved ones pass away
Though we lose someone
They will live on in our hearts
Until it’s our time
We don’t know God’s plan
Sometimes we live a long life
Age is the reward
Cherish every day
Live your life to the fullest
Make good memories
Age is a gift from God
Wondrous metamorphosis
Like a butterfly
Grow old with your love
Are the best years yet to be?
The age-old question…
As I lay watching the stars colliding
Through the universe so pretty and vast
Past and present enveloped are portrayed
Colloquy within the rhythm of the…
Of the gracious, likeable beating heart
Openness of peace, openness of realms
Calming to be, righteous act of longing
Welcoming riverbeds as well the skies
The beating informed internal grand soul
What a simple and interesting life
Living for the bass of musical rhyme
Proud to be over here, having a soul
Jumping into life’s loving lava flow
She becomes part of my integration
Allowing a peace of mind to enter
Brought a palm of simplicity to me
World on my shoulders, a love in my heart
Delight to always be divine in part
You shower me with the grace of power
Immensity of all single forces…
To one inside
Russell Sivey
The wailing horn cries out not for the kings of distant lands
But for the children who have forgotten his music.
Like the soft belly of a camel
The warms sands of my home creep
between the toes of my feet.
The hills rise and roll over,
beckoning the clouds for moisture.
Empty riverbeds crisscross the valleys,
dried over time by sand, wind, and man
Once darkness rises
lovers come to meet under the galool,
Like song birds of the morning
they entice one another with sweet songs and fragrance
In the distance the lonely hyena wanders,
Calling out for his clan in low bellows
The young know to stay close to their mother’s breast,
For the king patrols the darkened earth
And with a smile flashes death, but life as well
For lions are also mothers
The winds sweep over the land,
bringing with them the smell of rain and salt
Under the deserts lie ancient kingdoms forgotten by time
Dynasties thousands of years old,
ended by swift cavalry and drought
Though the rains have not come yet we shall still sing and dance
With every heavy step and beat of the drum old empires shall rise,
Every string plucked on the kabaan,
shall be a melody so sweet
even the bees won’t be able resist its pull
Until all of our family returns to their mother’s home.
Life clawing at
Life… fragmented-
Wounded universe
Global heart bleeds
Seeps into dry
Riverbeds-
Sleep
Soundlessly ricochet to and fro
hither and yon
roundly bobbing within squarely donned
talking heads of psycho killers,
one pyromaniac burning
down the crowded house
sparking magnificent conflagration
towering inferno emulating
caterwauling, kickstarting, ululating
(think) stray cats on a hot tin roof
nsync with 10,000 maniacs
intense heat and duraflame
long since eroding
weather beaten soul asylum
strip mining away
vestial trace, hence impossible mission
rectifying purposeless existence
imputed to passive self sacrifice
upon cusp of prepubescence
mystified, mummified, modified,
stilled, lulled, andhushed
obsessively grammatically fanatical
oftimes feeble efforts yielded countless
corrective editing measures
subsequently rendering lame
resultant deplorable effort
despite NON GMO gluten
and monosodiumglutimate free
diet of (hooked) worms
limply tethered symbolic constructs
analogous to dangling participles
scraping, plowing, etching...
imperfect triangulated Hollywood squares
across parched stream of consciousness
former luscious cerebral riverbeds
long since bone dry
millennium since onset climate change
courtesy global warming
blowing in the hot torpid wind
sands of time elapsed
accepted biological demise
forever linkedin with his forebears
birth/death repurposed cycle
activated, demonstrated, gifted...
integration, narration, reincarnation...
biochemical, geological, paleontological...
legacy randomly begetting me
epochal, integral, orbital saga
since time immemorial
fifty plus shades of once ashen gray
well muscled athletic human specimen
oblivious corpse good n plenti
petrified, metamorphosed, coalesced
bleached skull and crossbones
grown brittle when blazing sun's
rays generated aforementioned disparate ideas
jangled, rankled, and zapped
in tandem with bared tiger (no lion)
slapdash pell mell, helter
skelter, higglety pigglety...
germane blitzkrieg rained down above
leaving writer, tortured, mortified, and benumbed
without either sense or sensibility
nor pride and prejudice
perusing discombobulated chaotic
kamikaze lobbed muddlesome nonsense.
The grass dew laden emerald hue
The sky a clear and sapphire blue
Scarlet poppies nodding ruby heads
In the distance, silver riverbeds
Diamonds from the branches dripping
Humming birds from blossoms sipping
Bronze beams through forests dancing
Dappled fawn through woodlands prancing
Flamingos, stately, feathered pink
Scurrying rabbits, clad in mink
Velvet weasel quietly prowls
Giving forth deep throated growls
Caterpillars through young leaves creep
Topaz frogs, from lilies leap
Garnet berries glowing bright
Butterflies there upon alight
Amethyst flowers, a purple haze
Where gentle deer contently graze
Aquamarine shimmer of rippling pond
Jade green fern with unfurled frond
All around the earth abounds
With life so full and so profound
Sparkling shimmer of crystal pool
Golden sun, on worldly jewel.
Close up is when you see the cracks,
the lines etched, scratched onto canvas.
An oil painting that survived a fire.
Close up is when you see the ash
loosen, drift away in a breeze. Smoke.
Something once hot white turned to charcoal.
Close up is when you see the riverbeds
dry now from drought, once drenched with desire.
Cargo stuck in the mud of the water we were.
Close up is when you see marrow, the blood
and bone bristling under transparent paper
once pink and once flesh. Once strong. Once marble.
So leave, please. See me blur as those cracks become hazy.
Retire, step back. Zoom out. Fly up with only a dot down here to see.
Take a snapshot out of focus. Forget to develop the memory of me.
An impartial day
Upon lush yonder valleys,
golden sun rays glow
Reflected raindrops prism,
forming a partial rainbow
Just above my head,
darkness stubbornly grows
Interrupting one of natures,
iridescent idyllic shows
I follow blind trajectory
towards riverbeds below
To find a multicolored haze,
surrounding the meadow
Fleeting glimpse of oneness,
albeit broken as it goes
Perfection alone is nothing,
fulfillment makes it so.
By
David Kavanagh