Best Rotations Poems
Solemn Seduction – for contest
soft winds are swallowed
by my wings
stolen
as the breath of lovers
waiting
unblinking eyes seducing
darkness
prying truth from camouflage
rotations of twist top head
listening for the silent
in silence
clinging to a white birch perch
moonlight’s searchlight
shifting shadows
nuances
of prey
soft wings and sleepy eyes
floating focus
beneath the star strewn sky
talons tensing in descent
striking
without pick-up line
the owl’s loft
for dinner
1/29/2016
submitted to – Owls Personification form – Poetry contest
sponsor – Eve Roper
That child is like a washing machine
when tucked within her bed,
Arms and legs flail everywhere
No chance you’ll find a head.
I expect that's hiding somewhere down
where you’d expect to find the toes
Where a noggin normally rests
Well! No one really knows.
You lay her down to go to sleep
The first move is the “wash”
Linen, gets all pushed around
erratically till its squashed.
Here’s the move I call the rinse
This one’s rather tame.
Motion, and then rotations start
But not quite yet insane.
Ye Gods!!
Here’s the start of the spin cycle.
As bed begins to rumble
Thrashes mirrored by crashes
Artistic gymnastic tumbles.
Blankets, pillows, clothes
All flying through the air
One stuffed toy arcs past the light
Whoa!
Had to duck a teddy bear!
Of course she always sleeps
Through all this absurdity
Each morning I lament the fact
that she was tucked in carelessly.
Get ready cause here is the next pontification
In regards to my said, beloved’s infatuation
Hear me thee, here do be, the truth of the situation
Which once was the source of said aggravation
After having arrived at many carnal rotations
Yet to me this was more than just merely fornication
Unless it is just about you and your manipulation
Telling me that there was never a foundation
That it was all about the sexual sensation
Confusing are your words in there translation
They were your words of emotional declaration
Saying, that they are your truthful and honest proclamation
That we were was then had been your chosen words of articulation
Did they not bare as authentic in authentication?
Yet, I would never take advantage of your inebriation
You had already been thru enough of that brutalization
Though we both do know, we do have difficulty in communication
Though to me, it is just temporary blocks of frequency channelization
Amplified by the vodka laced with fruit juice for your gestation
This does be the biggest and truest reason for our causation
And the reason being for my excommunication?
If this does draw me as the fool in this poetic explanation
Then paint me as the man who holds much inner vexation
As we come here now to this thee summation
Because I still feel this be your true vibration
You are truly good enough and worthy enough for a higher lofty elevation
The womb of a mother is a cradle for a child to grow in
a nine month gestation grace period is a child's sweet elation
Mother tenderly sings to her little one as she waits to give birth !
A mother is a vessel of purity, also a
Mother's heart, is full of love for her child
Object of her desire, "a baby with ten little toes and ten little fingers"
Tenderly woven thoughts arrive at the font of her pregnancy
Hieroglyphical sounds and body rotations, she is mesmerized
Enchanted by a human life growing inside of her she
Reveres the treasure within her and prays for safe delivery
Search the whole world over and you will never find a purer
Love, than the love a mother has for her child
Over the moon and infatuated with her infant she cradles
Validating her affections to the gem before her eyes
Each time a woman delivers a child, the Angels play their harps of gold.
one mans sunset
is another mans dawn
every second of the day
lives on and on
dawn is a traveler
traveling from east to west
bringing light to a world
darkness has left
decending and emerging
at the same time
insignificant man
fooled by his eye's
the earth has a shadow
but we call it night
it's fought by the moons
reflected light
but in the darkness
we see the stars
other planets in space
telling where we are
constant rotations
on a scale so large
days and seasons
so near so far
days months and years
before and behind
at birth a mystery
but now eternity in my mind
Resting it ever-so-gently on her
shoulder, the young girl twirled
the brightly-colored parasol in her hand
and like a child's pinwheel
it became a blur - a joyous
dizzy dance of vivid rainbow shades ...
Bringing the gloomy air around her
(and the wet sidewalk), to gaudy life ...
the rapid rotations spinning the rain off like a
lawn sprinkler - it was THAT sight
that made her think of her sister and warm
summer showers at the farm ...
They'd put bathing suits on
and dance together among the pear trees
pretending they were the precocious "Bennet" sisters
(vying for the attention of Mr Darcy, of course)
soft grass like a chartreuse carpet
under their tender toes ...
Spinning and giggling and
teasing each other in their horribly feigned
British accents ... oh, for just one more of those
carefree country days - life was anything BUT fanciful now -
private school and obligations and over five
years since her sister had passed ...
But, she was with her, still
and this was her kind of day
she would make the most of it, her beloved
sister's umbrella in her grasp - celebrate life itself
and the joyous weep of heaven's happy
tears and perhaps ...
A dance ... in the soft summer rain.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Strand Pick 8, Any Theme, Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 6th Place ~ in the "A Rainy Day" Poetry Contest, Sara Kendrick, Judge & Sponsor.
* I chose picture number five *
I somehow missed the nineties
As far as pop culture was concerned
I spent a lot of it overseas
Watching as the Balkans burned
I had learned Russian for the Army
But the Russian Bear was no longer wild
About the time they reunited Germany
I gained a brand new wife and child
With the fall of the Soviet Union
I thought the world might finely be sane
Then I cross trained into Serbo-Croatian
As Yugoslavia went up in flame
The Army was not a free ride
I did several deployment rotations
Monitoring war crimes like genocide
Or in Macedonia with the United Nations
The nineties ended quietly
At least from what I remember
I was focused then on family
Until that fatal 11 September
"Music Box"
Wind it up to work her magic
Memories in a box unleashed with a flip of the lock
Releasing a small plume, you dust it off and sneeze
Turning the key to see a little painted ballerina in action
Missing flecks of the dress she has donned for generations
Time has worn her down
She spins a few rotations releasing a tune
Of Rock a Bye Baby, how mellifluous it is
That brings you back to good times again
A favor done for winding her up
You give her life, she gives you a chance
To recall when you once spent time
With your mother in the attic
And she thought you were old enough
To appreciate this grand memento
With cranks and pins and a dancer on top
Mama recalled she was once that age too
And shown an object, the very same
A lone tear starts you crying
Remembering she who is gone
And how proud you were to take possession
The dancer is bitter sweet
While the music winds down
She puts herself to sleep
With her own tune for bed time
Silence and thought take over the room
Until the baby down stairs starts producing
A whiny tune of her own
She will have to wait though
And the box will gather dust again
Until the time is right
Universes of time, aged stars;
Silent and bright, how they swirl.
Each one lights its own corner of the heavens;
each stands as one body;
serving the universe, alone.
They all reach great heights.
There are no fears here of heights;
no phobias among these stars;
despite them having to stand alone.
Round and round they swirl;
each centrifugal body,
swirling in the heavens.
When people look at the heavens;
they look to great heights;
and peruse those wondrous bodies.
They stare and dream, beneath the stars;
watching them blink and swirl;
each doing their job together, yet alone.
The state of being alone,
up there, in the heavens;
in a constant state of, swirling;
can steer them to those, limitless heights.
Like people, they are travelers, those stars;
little gypsy’s in cosmic light bodies.
With no limbs to impede their bodies;
they travel to other universes, alone.
Each life has its own journey, even a star;
as it travels through the heavens;
it achieves, greater and greater heights;
never looking back, as it swirls.
Like stars, the human mind, with dreams…swirls;
within the mortal body;
Until it too, achieves great heights;
and doing this, very much alone.
Man dreams of rising to heaven;
just like the gypsy stars.
In the end, like dwarfed stars; the human mind will cease its swirl.
In the heights of heaven, there is no mortal body.
No soul is alone, yet without any spin, it achieves those new heights.
Runs errands with a fantastic label
even with mane and jaws, humble is this Lion
simple is the main cause, Cain hates Abel
needing little heat to bend such Iron.
A call to build the tower of Babel
measurement of needed time shows it's in eon
yet finds no reason to rightly rebel
ability to react, dead as neon
dissatisfaction is weighed in a low count
the presence of such child reduces the bills
deviation from exact, falls on no account
slight waves, then rotations from the wind mills
parents happily display on the mount
a character scenting like hot spiced grills.
Just 3 days before the earth completes its evolution
calendar numerals with maximum numbers
one of which is the peak found in all 12 cycles
and the other, the highest of all months
It’s a day when birth among all things
becomes the protocol officer to nature
and a new life full of promise and expectations
results from the shading of history’s skin
A day when
the sun chills with the living matters
of the hills before going to bed
when the clouds hold hands in same rhythm
marveling to an added blessing the earth just received
when the tides of the waters rise up high
in complete salute to this majestic new entry
He is a pace setter, a trail blazer and a king
he breaths out the commanding charisma of a leader
housing a thousand qualities of a champion
and wearing a million features of a god
From three hundred and sixty five rotations
one becomes slower and closer to the sun
and its natural satellite rigid in awe
all because the legend has arrived
happy birthday to me.
Ellipse, evolute, vertex and curve,
Humdrum circle or ricochet swerve
Astroids or cusps, arcs or sectors;
What have those got to do with vectors?
Curvature, cone, Cartesian plane…
Oval, deltoid… what’s in a name?
Geoid oscillation, pedal, radial, rose…
What on earth do I know of those?
Hypocycloid, cruciform, Sierpinski carpet…
Inverse tangent or Apollonian gasket?
Snowflake, hypercube, space-time dimension
Pressured, gauged, or under tension?
Trammel of Archimedes, planes, rotations –
Congruence, right angles, equivalence relation;
Conchoid curve, Orthoptic, Lemoine hexagon,
Triangle, star or good old pentagon.
Crescent, rhombus, magatama, square,
Caustic curves, salinon, ying-yang or sphere!
About whichever’s the shape that you talk,
Basically, it’s taking a line for a walk!
It was an tiny eye that pour a plenty of..
..Everything
The innocent young boy in the street of war.
ever since before
Yes, I am not aware about Universe
reality of infinity.
But I am a foolish scientist,
Searching for a long,
Researching under the microscope in vain,
Solutions for the difficulties singe to the sinew.
While looking around where I could go to escape.
The rotations of thoughts are like the particles of milk way..
Infinity!!!!!!!
Since the glance of loving eye has poured in me everything.
Oh!
Reality very near to me..
The dimension of love is infinity
Where the everlasting peace is being dwelling.
Now I am looking only the eyes of you..
Show your love give the daily bread.
Rotations in high speed
air showing so much anger
with groans and grudges clearly heard
best friend, children, first love, games, heartbreak, life, moving on,
SKIP TO MY LOU! ©
Harmonizing rhythms
Rotations synchronize to
Skip to My Lou
My Darlings
Couples take up ends
Two turn rope 'required'
Like me with you
Two ends
One jumper
Take turns
Work ends timing.
Double Dutch
Double quick
Pavement recounts
All the licks!
Skipped times
Challenges anew
Missteps loose turns
Rope Splits
Stop skip
Mid crisis
Ends must be reunited
Another ‘Skip To My Lou’
Game starts
More to chance
With knotted ends
'Jointed' again
Start the count-down
One, two, three,four,
You missed stepped---
And loose
My turn!