Best Sallow Poems
Blindly..
I beseech you
for my eyes won’t adjust
to this shaded maze of despair -
neither the lantern’s flame
nor a compass rose can help me now
in disrepair I need to find you
with fingers outstretched I raise my arms
groping for you like a eyeless babe for her mother
..but you’re not there —
a cunning thief this despair
for stealing my sight for a way out
Why won’t the summer solstice light this darkness
nor warm this anguished atmosphere..
am I to die here where I lie?
my undressed soul exposed to the wind-chill of your loss
naked in biting throes beneath a stony sun
desperate to thaw ice dams lodged in my bloodstream..
the winter sallow of my heart’s shallows a skater’s delight —
a cunning partner this despair..
ice-dancing with my pain
Where is the air I need to breathe..?
it’s evaporated with you and the dreams we used to dream
the weaver a double-dealer stealer..
life no longer lives in my poker-faced lifestyle
nor in fantasies long gone from sleep’s clouds
moth-eaten desires and grit and tears
too holey and harsh to knit a warm reason to swaddle in -
just let me close heavy hope-chest-lids of empty eyes
and take my last shrinking violet breath —
a cunning spy this despair
for infiltrating my will to survive..
Susan Ashley
October 11, 2020
N/A
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 22
Sponsor: Mark Toney
(reformatted)
~ First Place ~
Contest: Will To Survive
Sponsor: Silent One
dust-wearing-wind carries a feeble cry in its palm,
settles it near ears that can no longer hear.
Cries arise from hollows of your hungry face,
a pulpit of high cheeks bones— in sharp relief
to sunken skin-scape sallow and paper thin—
a preacher on the harrows of hunger.
Vulture keeps a still, silent vigil,
a patient witness to your starvation,
comrade and adversary
in a fight for your last breath and beat.
Your loyal companion, a symbol of death
where drones rain with flames on tents of refugees
and sky splitting missiles make shrapnel of the sun,
where dragon fire artillery shoots the moon
and shreds stars till they fate-fall
like the last nightjars from nocturne skies.
Dear child of war,
alone with nothing in your belly but a stone,
rib bones a famine cage,
thoracic fingers squeeze your soul.
Your heart a hostage,
flutters like a lost moth against your sternum.
I long to hold you and feed you
honey made from a million wild flowers
uncrushed beneath metal plates of tank treads.
I yearn to bathe you of collapsed concrete dust
cleanse you of your mother’s blood, her
rattle-boned, battle-owned, maternal body wrapped
over yours as they fed her Kalashnikov lead.
My faraway ache for your plight pales
against your tiny body’s black-rose-throes,
a pawn to thorns of soldiers
grown on rocket-torn-boot-worn streets.
War-zone fig trees bear no fruit,
hibiscus buds die as hornets knit nests into shrubs,
tomorrow but a diseased wheat field laid to waste.
Dear child of war,
deliverance will come when pall-bearer winds
carry your cries elsewhere…
In dawn's aura, mountains glistened with snow.
Rooster's crowing proclaimed the break of day.
December's frosty winds began to blow
as clouds shadowed a sullen shade of gray,
and serpentine ripples flowed on the bay.
Dimmed were rays of light from the sallow sun
when for a while its beams had gone astray.
Gusts of wind on this Christmas Eve were spun,
blustering and blowing grim clouds away.
'Twas time to celebrate Jesus' birthday.
Christmas morning folks gathered to rejoice.
for the Saviour born to erase sin's stain.
Choirs sang like angels in one ardent voice,
hymns honoring the infant in refrain.
Over God's Kingdom, His Son shall ere reign.
On that Holy Night, when stars were shining,
swaddled in His mother's arms was a child.
The world no more lay in error pining*
for God and sinners would be reconciled
through the Christ child's life so tender and mild.**
December 13, 2022
A Christmas Special Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
*Lyrics from 'O Holy Night'
**Lyrics from 'Silent Night'
With enlightenment, not inhalation,
drawn from Jefferson Airplane's (Starship?) 'White Rabbit.'
(written by Grace Slick)
A Monotetra ~
Don't be drawn into that fairytale
with the Cheshire Cat's grin and tail
He'll lure you in and leave you frail
To weep and wail To weep and wail
If you're in the Red Queen's palace
Don't sip wine from her gold chalice
Her evil thoughts reek of malice
Go ask Alice Go ask Alice
You look weak, skin sallow and pall
Your White Knight's steed is in a stall
Alice won't save you when you fall
She's ten feet tall She's ten feet tall
Don't chase white rabbits down a hole
Deep descent will devour your soul
It's time to wake and take control
Don't pay the toll Don't pay the toll
there is no hush...when silent dreams can scream
and echo through the haze yesterdays
just like the thoughts that float upon a stream
are lost in lackadaisical malaise
no peace within this torrid kind of blue
- horizons that portend more of the same
then taunt with hints of calm where wishes flew
to where they hide - and no one has a name
a sultry sax weeps like the sallow trees
as tickled keys stall on a lazy chord -
a cloud sails through blown by a trumpet's breeze
and patience snares its improvised reward
all tangled in a thought that never ends
- that solo break where sanity pretends
Written: March 31st, 2025, for contest, Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
************
After basking in yesterday's afterglow,
I divested my vestments
to shift in cognitive mindset.
I stroll toward the horizon.
where the azure sky
embraces the vast sea blue.
Waves dance.
With silvered clouds,
Creating an orchestra
The wind and light are present.
Sallow shadows scintillate.
In Moonlight Melodies...
As dusk settles,
casting a shimmering awe that echoes of
The splendor of the galaxies abounds.
In every breath,
A promise resonates,
to the dawn
that dwells within me.
Gliding on golden wings
a sovereign among the kings
As light swirls beneath the Milky Way,
The cosmos shines brilliantly.
In a pearly gown.
Angels slide,
Unleashing their power
to restore their lost throne.
With flickering wings,
Wield the sword of stone
their footsteps inscribe
a path of golden light,
As they conquer the onyx depths
of an obsidian night.
Loving blasts their souls.
angel wings shake in sadness,
where grief and despair are hefty,
seeking an aerial citrine nirvana
I recall it sharply,
as if it were yesterday,
Tears mar the silky pillows.
as honeysuckle
It oozes from eager lips. —
There is a longing for satisfaction.
Lipstick etches its mark.
He left an imprint on his bare skin.
Even now, those intertwined chains
of Memory ensnares me.,
As well-oiled fingers traverse
the curves of the sensuous body,
ordinary yet glowing in the sunlight,
filled with a relentless passion.
Nervous tension shattered,
striking, akin to a diamond on ebony velvet.
As her body warmed and became silky,
Her lips melted and tasted delicious.
They expressed love ardently.
and hugged fervently.
swept up in passion and longing,
wishing the moment might last forever,
cocooned in each other's arms,
and felt blissfully pleased,
Polishing words into gems,
dusted garnet, with sunset slips
In citrine clouds cast
There was a ray of magenta skies.
I wish for unending delight.
and utter bliss in the afterglow.
the saltiness of love
a riveting fall
unlike other tears
this solitary shed
like a drip of life-blood
the lance of each freckle
an almost feckless drive over the sallow cheek
finally landing on the lump of her throat
the last tear stains her pillow
tasted by encompassing family
a lovely bouquet
the aroma of memories
likewise a splash of a storm
lashing against the window pain
softly moaning wind
as she exhales one more breath
like the shake of a baby’s rattle
as the sun shines
a doe with a sparkling eye
and her fawn
through the window pane
her family exhales
and holds the snapshot
of her death
2/4/2019
Silent One’s One Last Tear Contest
Autumn winds chant a soulful tune
Elusive songs they choose to play
as maple branches bend and sway
Aspen trees drop their leaves too soon
Hues of umber, amber and gold
as seasonal changes unfold
Across forest floors they are strewn
Russet carpets to lie upon
when in repose a sigh is drawn
Then comes the sad cries of a loon
Haunting sounds foreshadowing death
She calls her mate with one last breath
Like withered leaves, a life was hewn
Taken from loved ones in the night
A cherished soul risen in flight
Pale light spills from a sallow moon
Beneath its glow we weep and mourn
Grief pierces like a sharpened thorn
Autumn winds chant a soulful tune
Aspen trees drop their leaves too soon
Across forest floors they are strewn
Then comes the sad cries of a loon
Like withered leaves, a life was hewn
Pale light spills from a sallow moon
September 19, 2022
In Remembrance of Connie - Autumn Theme Contest
Sponsored by Suzanne Delaney
Ceraunophilia - 7-13-26
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Summer Storm
The day grows dark, ominous with rumbling,
We watch a hood of humid heaviness
Slowly slide across the face of dusk
With wispy veils of mist, a harbinger’s whisper
Turns green leaves silver in brooding twilight stillness.
In slowly rising chords of chaos
Crickets hide and even air holds it’s breath
To listen for the steps of a far-off symphony.
Our eyes grow ready as sallow clouds swallow dusk
When the rising perfume of summer rain
Fills our nostrils with it’s signature
And raindrops sizzle on sidewalks
Dancing in frenzy, faster - harder.
The sky explodes to our delight
With brilliant shards of light in spirals
Then shakes the night with belly laughs, delighted with itself.
We run to open shutters wide
And lie upon the bed
To watch this full born summer storm
Plunder midnight with crashing waves of booms and fury.
SMITTEN OLD MAN
High school year book, 47
I’m not a gad looking guy –
Short hair, sport coat, tie
This remembered as I gaze across the room
She’s sitting at a table near the wall,
Lap top open, ear phones, late and all
She wears a sleeveless blouse
On a cookie now I’m nibbling,
But, my God, her arm! What’s that scribbling?
From distance the appendage looks solid black
Is she weird, some sort of voodoo?
“No, you idiot!” I laugh. “Just a tattoo.”
Through her tangled blond hair a streak of purple,
No cosmetics improve the sallow face,
Clothes, by 40s standards, a national disgrace
I’m smitten – chair seat a bed of nails,
Arthritis rebels, bony hands clutch -
This modern generation, it’s just too much!
Dave Austin
The sky bathes the harbor in cyan turquoise
cadet-blue sea foam bubbles the only gorget one has
versus the flamingos and canaries absconding littoral mire
the gashes on my feet, the burn in my gracilis
have returned me yet again to
sanctum:
la vie en rose,
where
lips breathe lunarias into drift bottles
love songs the only tune in our ears,
lilac mica on denim morpho
is the heart in my chest,
and the color of your hair
when the sun decides
its inevitable rest
everything must come to an end,
but the feeling I get
when you scrunch your nose
and shake wisteria dust
off raven plumes
eclipsing spinel
opals
and if describing them is the one thing I can do,
then the paint in my mouth may go stale
fingertips now pruney, lazy, tired
vision indispensable falling pallid
the paper of my visage a
wrinkly,
sallow
pity
but the young wish of a besotted soul
to grow old with your puling orbs
granted
ink sinks the coral lens
your darling hands
have fixed over my head
but my legs are torn,
and my teeth broken
aching
for another laugh
rumbling through
your vibrating back
that my cheek is pressed into,
and I drown
willing
smile
wistful
hush
still.
Vultures surround me, glaring at my ebony“ unsaved Soul“, Squawking, waiting for the
“Feast of Death”
The Sallow Sky envelopes me, destroying all thoughts of Eternity , a Love tear falls with-in
my last Breath
Where are the Stars, the Moon, the Sun, LIFE? : I stand alone scarred and scared ; “I want
to go Home”
See the glory of Mother Nature, touch the Robe of Father Time : To Write myself out of this
Horrible Poem
Inspired By the POEM “ If you can’t be a poet, be the POEM “ By Dr. Ram Mehta
Dedicated To “ Dr. Ram Mehta “ ( My Literary Advisor) through His Comments to my Work
The roadway's blocked with drifts of snow,
by winter winds that howl and blow.
And ominous clouds clot the sky,
beneath a sallow sun's faint glow.
House calls get performed on the fly,
even though I'm no longer spry.
But a country doctor's no good,
unless he is willing to try.
Experience; says that I could,
but first, I'll gather more firewood.
For nights gets cold when it turns black,
and some have frozen where they've stood.
My tired feet plow a winding track
through frozen fields on my way back.
And yet, I'm prouder than they know
of that baby born in a shack.
(Interlocking Rubáiyát)
3/12/2015
You become Raffles and its Long Bar.
Better, I'd imagine, than it needs,
or probably deserves.
Happy, fair,
tanned loveliness with a dash of sauce
and a hint, I think, of innocence.
Had I noticed that before?
Melbourne today is cold and squally.
Now where I look is stained with sallow sunshine
then buffeted by gloom thicked winds
then still.
Then lashed by rain then still again.
And all about are sodden drifts of autumn.
I wish you were here.
As moonbeams settle softly on her face,
lay bare the gaunt and haggard visage there,
a woman whose whole life was spent in care
for those who ran and won another race.
Those stippled hands, the measure of her grace,
her shriveled arms, now wasting in despair,
her saddened eyes so sorrowful and spare,
a broken soul who cannot keep apace.
Wilting now, her slender body gone,
wishing there were something left to say,
countenance once sparkling, now wan,
as she prepares to make that final trip
to glory, to the everlasting day
when pain no longer whispers from her lips.
Those who stand in grief can only wait
and ponder just what might have been,
but death is drawing nigh, it's much too late,
her appearance now so sallow and so lean.
Thoughts turn to their own brief mortalities,
as they reflect on how they will atone,
and justify their improprieties.
We cannot cheat the Reaper, foil his plan,
and live a life of immortality,
His grip is irresistible, and none
can bypass destiny, its fickle charms,
so may she sleep in peace, in purity,
and rest forever in His loving arms.