Best Riveted Poems
Where lilacs bloomed, I spied a brown-haired child.
She, riveted by what was in her book,
did not see me! She wore a wistful look.
I guessed her to be somewhat shy and mild.
The girl at last looked up and showed surprise
to see me standing there to study her.
What happened after that is now a blur,
but I recall she had my same light eyes.
Where lilacs bloomed, I’d sat against that tree
while reading. Was I then inside a dream?
A woman startled me. Why does it seem
the woman who appeared that day was me?
Sept. 15, 2018
for Dear Heart's Enclosed Rhyme - September, 2018 Poetry Contest
In a box full of everything I’ve ever lost,
The first thing I’d rummage for is the patience that could’ve led me
To your open arms at any cost
Slow moving nights, without a trace of day-dreamt advice
My home away from home you provided, but without a trace of a porch light
Well I’ll find you but it’ll take so much out of me
And I’ll hunker down and prepare for the motivation I’ll lose suddenly
Well I don’t have the time to find everything
and here is where I put myself aside to choose priorities
But in a box full of everything I’ve ever lost,
The first thing I would scour for
is the opportunity for mental bandages, only a damaged soul could’ve ignored
And every ring of earth's rotation bringing me to a soured destination
Of knowing now, that you were the glass that kept us separated
I’m antagonizing fight or flight so we establish who controls this
My head’s too far in the clouds, I’m blind to where the runway is
And it's getting hard to tell
of what rejections were the world’s protection
And what were just sacrifices
But in a box full of everything I’ve ever lost
The first and only thing I would gaze for,
Is the paper you riveted with every metaphor
That would’ve changed my view of you, had I not tossed
But mistakes are the thorns that bring intimidation to every flower;
Dwelling on them won’t make you more well-rounded
And it’s about time I started living my life in my own honor
Cause everything I’ve ever lost,
Took a nerve laced under skin and numbed the ends
Before the people pleaser in me attempted to plea with one-sided amends
That would have led me nowhere,
With no one to carry me
So in a box full of everything I’ve ever lost,
I’m peering for ashes, post-flame
From a shifting smile that disintegrates
~ This poem is written in the 8686 syllable count style of one of my favorite Emily Dickenson poems, 'I Felt a Funeral in My Brain.'
'pon roiling sea a fierce storm brewed
waves crashed within my veins
fueled by heady winds, they pursued
to drown my life with rains
With tympani beat, thunder roared
bold lightning flicked and flashed
we pulled, we pulled, oh how we oared
with nature's ire we clashed
Then came a clamor from astern
our ship had split in two
in my veins, swells still pound and churn
until the moon breaks through
Calmed now, the vile tempest from Hell
sky riveted with stars
Man holds no power to dispel
nature's wrath when she spars
~ For Chris
I stand like an inverted portrait on your wall
Bollixed Like a lost wallet in a mall
I remained Glued to you all day and night
Like a scabbard to the waist of a knight
Your inexplicable uniqueness got me riveted
And leaves me feeling complete like a script that has been vetted
The sun is full of envy of your brightness
Even Your shadow divulges your uprightness
Your smiles makes me feel like the clock has stopped ticking
And energetic like a baby in the womb that's kicking
You are the moon, I am the night
In my darkness hour, you are my light
#PoeticLord#
(c) June 2019
The rush that occurs with Van Gogh’s brush.
Deep in the undergrowth, drawn to two figures.
The dappled landscape, lemon, lime and vanilla.
The close couple strolls amidst rows of trees.
The ebonic widower walks with his spectral wife.
Trees, like stick figures, reminiscent of cemetery stones.
This dreamy scene, romantic and haunting. Momentary
pause, as if for a quick snapshot. The forest, seemingly,
goes on forever. The lovely lady dressed in pastoral green.
Although the lovers pause, you still hear the rustle of her gown,
and their forward swoosh through tall grass and wildflowers.
Completely entranced, in their edenic setting, and with each other,
they blend with the tall trunks, relaxed and content.
Robust in recollection, riveted by exotic bird calls, earthy scent,
mixing with her light-lavender, temporal-lingering on the canvas.
Contrast with eternal life, where our imagination flourishes, alive,
with healing in the leaves, loving, forever and a day, in paradise.
The rush that occurs with our Creator’s brush.
Oh baneful yellow Moon in fullest rounded sphere,
Bright as Summers Buttercups in abundant yield,
Coldly riveted upon Winters beaten, thin silvered panels;
Thereof: By ye mighty hammer doth great thoth wield!
For what fearful trowel gouged out thine far flung valleys
Whilst piling high upon yon monstrous heights?
Wherest, scattering the bare pebbles, a ghostly sower
Coursing across vast cratered plains under Selenian moonlights.
Here once didst thou swelling tides ever invade long vanished shores
Dragged upon by some dwindling, exploded, far distant star;
An atmosphere girdling, warming and nurturing -
Torn from this barren rock and cast way out afar!
Eternally ostracized and deviled, adorned in black swirling robes;
Drifting angular grains heaped - raked by hot solar winds;
Your desolate kingdoms lit in all seasons under heavenly lanterns;
Worshiped and foully cursed upon: for any amount - and all manner of sins.
And ere did erstwhile lovers that ever come forth on bended knee,
To traverse the pale beams that twist about the crooked stiles,
Pledge well intended oaths beneath high, impossible windows:
Their grandly draped balconies and balustrades bathed in luminosities wiles.
When across the recorded centuries of histories misted-veiled years,
from the quill of the old sage, from the high lilt of the bard,
Your pensive countenance disaffected and of a cheerless tilt -
Hanging upon sharply crested vestiges of reckless disregard!
A toddlers Crayola masterpiece marks the box
Where the story of our days now tarry
Passages tilting the axis of a bittersweet equinox
As photographs eclipse yesterday and today unvaried
The plans we made for a life
After years of work and worry
Useless installments when your partner dies
The crumbling of everything you once held firmly
Riveted, uprooted with every slide
Scenes of "our time" bring you back to life
I step from earth, you from the sun, for yet another goodbye
And the dam finally collapses behind brave hazel eyes
But not the brokenness your death left behind
Still, though no more than ashes it resides
Like faded photographs etched in the mind
Fanning the embers... one picture at a time
Rage rises, for you left me alone
Without refuge for all life's trials
And our sons fatherless before they were grown
Every step feeling more like a mile
I've grieved so long
And tried to move on
Like river water never looking back
But it's motion sings the the words to our song
Leaving me afraid I'll never belong
Or live out the plan we devised
For all my days my efforts give way
Blundering, burdened and blind
How does one truly recover
When the mate of their soul is no more
Or pass from one realm to yet another
When the walls of your heart no longer have a door?
Frustration builds like Lego towers
toppling to the floor under the weight of the world
Is it grief or something disguised by cowards
When a heart gets stuck from the pain that it's learned?
This ode to a man
Who in covenant took my hand
The marriage equator engraved a permanent mark...
For his death left a total eclipse of my heart
Crazy as a loon
But my God... how I loved you
My eyes fixed upon our favored moon
And I wonder... Do you miss me too?
Anniversaries used to be a joyous accomplishment
Marking years of selfless love made
Now it serves only an acknowledgement
Of a life interrupted by a cruel twist of fate
Of ill trusted hopes
And a future unmade
For us left behind to cope
With memories and photographs fading away
On this the 2nd anniversary...
Of your passing away
In memory of my husband of 25 years
Charley Romani
(My Beloved)
She slipped into the single’s club,
where an assortment
of horny guys and lonely hearts had assembled.
Some were there hoping to find that "special" someone
and some had come to chase away the blues,
tinkling ice in cocktail glasses soon to be refilled.
Others, who might be labeled commitment phobic,
had simply come to case the place for an easy lay.
Swinging svelte, mini-skirted hips lasciviously,
she strutted over to the counter
on legs that looked their longest and most shapely
from being hoisted on high red heels.
Every pair of eyes was trained on her.
Some in the club gawked
with eyes that hid beneath mascara-painted lashes, flitting envy.
Others leered with pupils dilating lust
from ogling the two soft protrusions in her tight white turtleneck.
Then with pink champagne in hand,
the goddess turned and surveyed her audience,
most of whom by now had looked away.
One remained, mesmerized, with eyes riveted on her.
He quivered when she caught his gaze
and strolled over to where he sat.
As she approached, he marveled at her face -
the chiseled cheekbones strong and high,
the dark eyes, luminescent and immense,
and curiously, an upturned nose so delicate
it seemed almost too perfect,
like one acquired from a sculptor’s hands.
He gulped when she asked him for a dance,
and as he asked this intriguing lady’s name,
he wondered at the timbre of her voice,
so provocative and low as she tossed dark brown locks
and said seductively,
“My name is Lola. L-O-L-A , Lola.”
Inspired by an old song from the 70's and
used now for Skat's the Premiere Contest number 10 Poetry Contest
Lethargic and listless
lacking all zest,
I lie on the rocks
under the blazing sun.
The calm sea kisses
the rocky shore,
but no sea breeze
breathes on me.
The salt on my back
basks and bakes
and turns an ugly red.
Nothing to it but jump
back into the cool sea,
tempting the jellyfish
to sting my feet.
But on the beach
the newly crowned queen,
the one who scorns me,
parades herself
scantily dressed,
all eyes riveted on her.
I wonder who's worse:
herself or the jellyfish!
In those final moments
before you breathed your last
all you heard
was spat out at you in hate
insults inflicting wounds
deeper than the nails
that riveted your body
to that cross
Out of eyes
swollen almost shut you saw
the ones you’d come to save
foaming at the mouth
in a rave
no time to swallow saliva
because the fast paced taunts
had no pause
your ears filled
not only with blood
but with curses that lacerated
your breaking heart
flaying it
with ever word
how absurd
that these humans
couldn't see the nature of the One
Who could with a WORD
make them all cower
stripped of their power
and He could set Himself free
but...it was not to be
because of His indescribable love
for you...
for me...
Oh, Jesus!
One day
Your ears will fill with praises
songs of victory
dedicated to you
pouring from the lips
of a very different throng
those who to you belong
the saved and the strong
singing at Your feet
lifting Your name high
where it was meant to be
above all names
Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved (Acts 4:12).
Only you know if I’ll be there
if your eyes will fix on mine
shining love that's Divine
as I sing with the rest
a love song to You, Jesus
Only by Grace
only through You
Jesus…
“What a beautiful name it is!”
Eileen Manassian
Inspired by What a Beautiful Name it Is by the group Voice of Lee
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tiIMtID54K8
What have I done? She wonders…
Brittle blue gaze riveted on her lover’s chiseled features
His is a face set in stone
Eyes, mouth, jaw; all fixed, grim – a granite façade
Where has the softness gone?
That tender dawning of affection…
The loving gleam in dark chocolate eyes…
What have I done to erase it? She wonders -
Because she knows it was her doing
Knows it instinctively;
The knowledge is engrained in every fiber of her being
It was she, who else, who turned that face into rock,
It was she who wiped away the smile, the glow
Her cursed ire, her impatience, her irascible self-destructive streak –
With these tools she chipped away at him until he splintered
Yes she has broken him;
Broken the one thing she loved in all the world
Medusa-like, her willful cerulean glare turned him to stone
Now his eyes are twin pebbles
Cool, hard, unforgiving;
A grating stare is all he has to offer her
His heart sits motionless, a hunk of marble in the cage of his ribs
Beating for her no longer
His love for her has died a frigid death; drowned in a sea of ice
No more the fluid caresses, the warm grins, the ruffling of her hair
No more, no more, his love for her…
It is an unfeeling and frigid monument now
A tombstone, a dusty memory, the rattling chill of the Reaper’s breath
She has turned him into stone
Her lover - and her love - is no more
Oh Medusa, Medusa my girl, what have you done?
in the bright light of day you appeared...
a gilded angel with falcon wings,
you rose up out of the desert sands
and your gentle beauty struck me dumb -
sending a tremor through my soul...
marvelling, pretending an air of studied uncaring
i watched you through a veil of wind-blown hair
and tried to ignore the yearning sighs of the
blood in my veins,
and the keening of a heart that was broken -
that, seeing you, healed briefly -
only to fracture again every time you turned away
you were fatal...
i knew this in my marrow, even as i stared,
riveted, at your cherub's innocence,
suffocating, slowly - sweetly -
in the decadent gold-striated hazel of your
hawk's eyes
you were a killing blow out of the blue,
and once again i was lost...
"angel" i wanted to cry, "angel, ask my name..."
but, naive as Adam, you lost yourself in the bustle
and sand-blasted clamor of your clawed companions...
bereft i hovered, a lonely kestrel riding the chill wind
of your ignorance...
a single tear slid down my cheek;
oh i would have impaled myself on a thousand spears,
if it would only make you run to my side
and scoop me into your bronze embrace
but time slid by and planets shifted -
the day's end drew near...
desert dunes dissolved into the hazy purple of night,
and i was forced to say goodbye;
to pretend love at first sight was just a giddy adolescent joke,
and that your image wasn't tattooed on my heart
in blood and fire...
only then, as my soul swelled with the bitter bile of
disappointment, did you turn and behold
the torment of your beauty written on my face...
boyish, innocent, your eyes clashed with mine -
and melted my core to lava -
and gave my battered heart wings;
clipped wings perhaps, but wings nonetheless...
you smiled, a saccharine-coated admission of acknowledgement,
even as your eyes stabbed cruelly, violated my bruised soul,
and the sun set at your back -
gilding you in demonic flame...
and in a blazing flash, that was it, the die was cast,
reeling, bleeding, i broke our searing gaze;
'angel you may be, my oblivious love,'
i thought as i walked away
'but devil you are for wounding me this way -
and never even knowing my name'
Covered bridge sheltering frothy lagoon
Woven tapestry gilding each silted dune
Garnished threads over polished diadem doth croon
Fabricated ensemble breaching pristine medley, emitting swaggering tune
A treasured grove; each branch artfully hewn
A regal polish smoothly layered on a well-crafted spoon
Scented laces nestling in furrowed moon
Binding corset ballasting each milky balloon
Red velvet gown swaddling paps so roon
Silver, monogrammed broach cresting over satin plume
Golden necklace the antechamber doth groom
Lilac perfume from each tendered Liily doth fume
Plowing through the quilted morass so carefully strewn
O'er snowy plain with sculpting touches tenderly prune
Nurturing each crevice; in your fecund valley swoon
Watching in rapturous chorus each mound bloom
With fertile lips I pollinate each riveted loom
From each rendered nipple a sweet nectar I exhume
Interesting,
was the man staring
at the painting with such enthrallment.
I went and stood beside him, curious,
he was attractive and very appealing,
and when he looked at me- I gave him my
best come-hither look.
oh, his voice was captivating . . .
I wanted to say something interesting,
something very thought-provoking,
to entrap him in my allurement,
but I just said hello,
I was riveted to him- intrigued.
Interesting,
he smiled, amused
then said, the painting was spellbinding.
Oh, so charming and fascinating, he was,
I tried to appear beguiling-
hoping he would take note of my beauty.
He invited me for café,
we had charisma, for sure,
our conversation was absorbing-
He was so interesting and engrossing,
and I was compelled to touch his hand . . .
Oh, when did I become a seducer?
The thirst, lust and desire,
was tantalizing and tempting-
Interesting.
_________________________________
September 22, 2016
Poetry/Verse/Interesting
Copyright Protected, ID 16-831-873-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Interesting
sponsor, John Lawless
First Place
The red balloon of my childhood
chasing rainbows
the rush of ozone
hairspray
wait…
that’s my sister’s parade
big hair
I was nowhere near
with babies
early eighties
Oahu
oh to be a child in the wild
spray of the playful
sea, still
i felt like a child
riveted by waves
riding
the boogie board
not grown up enough
to surf
the burp of fantasy
precious buffet
of paradise
the red balloon loose
i chase its caboose
living
in its wake
10/22/2021