Best Rolled Poems
wildfire grips highland
like rolled furnace
exploding sparklers on night air
glares of blazed ecstasy crackle
leaves wear soot
while trees cough ashen blasts
For Debbie's Haiku Wannabees
by nette onclaud
Form: lune--5/3/5 WORDS perline
Oh yes, the college girls
come and go
speaking of Ani De Franco.
And yes, I too
measure out my days
with coffee spoons,
a hundred years later
and nothing has changed,
only the numbers of the dead
and the deranged
have increased exponentially
with deadly technology.
Like the Caesars of old
the power brokers of now
stamp out the vestiges
of an older order.
And yes, i sit like an elderly sentry
on the cusp of two centuries
and views of the world expecting
nothing better
than what has come before.
And yes, oh yes, seeing the gullibility
and the tomfoolery
of a world where you can be convinced
with very little effort
that up is down and that
right is left holding the bag repeatedly
and speaking ever more deletedly
to fewer and fewer ears.
What has changed?
What has changed except the names
used to describe the same old games
of a gang of aggressive primates.
Some are cannon fodder
used to divert the lion
and parade and preen
when they are lucky to escape.
Some are keen
to produce more spawn
so that we can do the same
old con again.
Some are at the center
protected and gifted
by a willing populace,
unwilling to risk
their own neck
as long as some one else will.
And some, with rolled up trousers
sit on the edge knowing
what is right
but lacking the will
to say so
and creating for ourselves
the post of sentry
to ease the burden
of a nagging conscience.
Just sitting here
watching the college girls
come and go
speaking of Ani DeFranco.
"Rolled Oats"
Age shall not weary
trolls counting strange fruit
golden apples rolled
Lord Laden put to sleep
on an alter Hippomenes
there Atalanta lights a candle
underneath the dry rot
Ovid’s oracle prophecy not far wrong
3 golden apples racing along
Hippomenes
strange addiction was outshone
the race never to be won
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
The calm before the storm opened up with fury with unnerving silence, filled the air with almost complete darkness.
A storm crept within, purely focused. It swelled up and draws through an angry filled breath. With a vicious voice, eased back, exploded once and for all with wet droplets of rain.
A wrenching sound with a crack of light and fire lighted up the skies. Orange flickering lights of fire was shaking everything through and through reflecting on the valley.
The silence was interrupted seconds later.
The fury inside continues to form.
It punched a fist again, with a raging crack.
Horrific piercing sounds and bright lights danced, filling the air with a roar of flaming Lions.
Thunder rolled across the sky. It couldn't stop itself, and starts opening the symphony once more. Fueled by adrenaline, thunderbolts of pure terror flashed. Out-of-control slamming and crashing, an awful electric shock waves cracked, plummeted to the ground connecting and sinking into the soaked soil.
A surprisingly calm came over and soothed the storm within, moving on with a view off the top of the trees and blue sky beyond.
The battle was won.
Precious crystal clear rain soaked the life on the ground.
8/12/2016
Seagulls,
waves,
seashells,
ocean swells,
distant boats,
rocky islands,
mist,
fog,
spray,
lighthouse,
end of land,
end of poem.
Oh my she has that look in her eye
Means something nasty is going to happen to me
Gives me a biscuit and tells me I’m a good girl
The fur on the back of my neck starts to curl
Come along Tilly she said it’s a shower for you
All because I rolled in fox poo
Collar is off, towels at the ready
I looked her straight in the eye and said
I had one last month. What do you think you’r at
I am not some poncey dog or a fluffy cat
I am a brave Boxer Girl with a bark like a rottie
Scares people to death think it’s so funny
So here I stand all over a quiver
The water nice and warm I will try not to slither
Wow smelly shampoo come on now why do you bother
Rather smell of fox poo will just roll in another
Can’t understand humans why they get so uptight
Cos I rolled in fox poo is that not alright
You soak in a bath and smell of flowers and things
You think that’s alright , well I think Fox poo swings
Thunder rolled across the sky
Like some great beast about to die,
Or the ancient god, now bestirred
By ancient thoughts and present words.
Fall arrived in her attire
Of earth, water, wind and fire.
But mostly fire, which spoke
Of life and death and heat and smoke.
As we walked through fallen leaves
And passed by wind-tossed trees
You talked of God and of Joan of Arc
And darkness settled on the park.
Of Joan of Arc and her fire,
Set upon her funeral pyre,
Dying from the fire’s embrace
In another time and another space,
Was turned to and became ashes,
While lightening flashes
As from nightmares or from dreams
Illuminated disparate scenes.
“I do not believe,” you said,
“That the past is ever dead.”
Going on our separate paths
We fled the storm and its wrath.
Upon the highlands
Few have walked, except the brave
That seek a closer embrace
With the divine plan.
Like persian carpets
Evergreen spread at the feet
Of tall rugged physiques
Of guards against threats
Of unholy plights
That rape life by hands of greed
That ever their sheer majesty
That loves the sunlight
Captures the sweet mist
That kisses its surfaces
Each dawn, remains untainted
That heaven be missed.
CarolineCécile
copyright 04.15.11
the conversations are rolled into the corners
stretching into a fifth dimension
perpendicular to all points
this is where i love you
curled back upon itself
unavailable to the eye
the physicist’s graven image
produced at energy levels
no longer on demand
counterfeited
lying useless on the floor
moments escaping
till you do
back into the visible spectrum
where the colored quarks
come to rest upon
a mask i have come to know
all too well
and given up all hope
of ever removing it
we chat in silence
the quietude in our pervading existence
is what we ultimately share
the empty spaces between galaxies
collisions that are temporarily ignored
a cosmos enveloped in its own existence
a life to be never seen
conjectures upon a table filled with mathematics
and nothing more
the weak force begetting pyrite
once radiant and full of promise
now lies a barren moonscape
awaiting expulsion, embers now ashes
fate in the coming winds
Fergus Falls 2000
smiling from within the waters
compassionate
undertow
my faceless energy free from
physical form...
i make music with the universe
one verse after another...
my instrument (illuminated)
just so happens to be Caramelized Sunbows
spraying origami orchestrated laughter
like mint-chocolate confetti...
swaying so sweetly
merging with the insight
from the Great Pastel Owl
donning butterscotch blues
swirled in powder greygreens
he resides on the 7th Ring of Saturn
which has taken a sad turn
setting in motion emotions candlestick
to be lit upon stigmas wick
protruding out of the flowering ocean
blooming on peddaling petals of purification...
reuniting my Soul with my Spirit
amongst the Autumn's animated driftwood narration
read by death and every double-crossing decision
consuming infinities enchanted eternity...
embracing the rest
covered and kept safe under a layer of Wisdom's Blanket
learning...
dancing to the rhythym of the Crimson Cromlech Tapestry
of duct-taped waves
crashing
against the ululating glimpses that
Reflect
Reflections Reflecting
Reflectively Reflected
breaths
breathing
in inkchiseled messages
with Poetically Penned Piercing Points...
POINTING * TO THE TRUTH...
now
the fact of the matter
as a matter of fact
it's a matter of right and wrong
heard through the lies is a herd of hummingbirdsongs
singing in soft sneezes spreading seeds
growing into symphonies of supernovas
any Solar System would be awestruck by
shedding tears that can buy
every single good-bye
pleasent dreams...
because a brave dog once said "Good-byes don't last forever"
HOWEVER forever is clever beyond starscorched weather
NOW
whether or not
this knot gets untied (which it will)
for it's the Creators Will
AYE
I am the Eye of the Storm
sent to warn us with a scent worn
in the waxed seal...
written from the isle of Paradise...
*Quote from "All Dogs Go To Heaven"*
One
Tear rolled
From curved corner
Of sadden eye
Light reflected grief
From well-darkened iris
Heavy lashes cast shadows
'Pon gloomy deepened pondering
Pupil that opens window of soul
Pain, agony,bleeding, crushed, marred, hurt heart
Sponsor: Linda-Marie
Contest:Poetic Art
Written by: Sara Kendrick
Scripture references
Matthew 27:62-28: 15
John 20: 7-9
Why did the angel roll the stone away?
Not so Jesus could get out.
He had already gone from man's tomb.
He was busy, doing what God had wanted Him to do.
The angel came but an earthquake happened as a results.
Who folded the face cloth?
Did Jesus Himself fold the face cloth?
The other linens were in a different place.
Remember when Lazarus came forth, he was still wrapped in his
Where did His clothes come from?
I have no answer except they were miraculous clothes.
Can you imagine?
The joy.
The understanding that hit the disciples and followers when they
realized what taken place.
They probably were thinking why did we not see before what
was really going to take place.
Read the Bible, ask God through His Son, Jesus, to open your eyes so you can see more clearly what it is saying to you.
the cloud’s rolled in all white and beautiful and then the wind blow the storm clouds in. The storm raged on and our faith was weakened , but there is a hand that guides us and watches over us. The cloud’s rolled in Jesus’ hands covered us all with forgiveness, love , peace. The clouds rolled and Jesus saved us all.
Let me ask you, how does the poem change
when "dog" is addressed in the female gender?
come now little "....."
stop shaking
it's only thunder
More specifically,
do you still see a dog?
When the wheel will have rolled miles,
When wrinkles shall deck the brow,
The thoughts of today shall linger
Behind the door of the mind.
What place do the cliffs hold,
When the mountains are no more?
To what heights can the eagle fly,
If its wings are too frail?
How do the hailstones coalesce,
When rain is no more?
Why does the bird sing,
When spring is past by?
The leaves would wear out,
The stories would end,
But the spirited mind shall live;
Clinging to the scent of the erstwhile Spring,
The bowed shoulder shall thrive.
Cues of immaculate tresses
Shall outdo the course of life,
But within, shall glow like the lava red,
The desire to live on.
When words shall fail,
When the fingers shall tremble,
When folds shall wreck the skin,
The blood of life shall flow on still.
But when the singing bird shall die,
When the eagle can no more fly,
Wake up, high-spirited mind!
Live your life again;
With whatever left of yourself,
Stand upright, unbowed to the pillars of the Dark!
O depressed soul, the tresses are not yet white!
Look into the mirror
And hark at the gleam in those eyes!
Don’t they speak of life?
I, the youth speaks
Knowing not your condition,
Knowing not your pains.
My words are but fruitless:
Like the sterile flower that but blooms,
Oblivious to its age.