Best Sands Poems
Two statues of stone
On pedestals in the park
One male
One female
White objects of a perfections beauty
Yet they stood erect and alone
When the rain fell
This was their tears
The stared at each other with longing
The trees grew tall
Season by season the flowers bloomed
Two statues standing erect in the prison of life's hold
A poet walked in the park
Glancing at lovers, kisses at dusk
He stared at the statues above his head
He knew, with dread, the loneliness of stone maidens
He waited for the park to become enclosed in the twilight
With toil and sweat he did succeed on his lark
Pushing the statues close rather than apart
As one statue danced and the other one sang
They kissed the sweetness of night and felt the tears of joy
All because a poet
Wished them a lovers embrace
He knew them like they were his children
For here he was as well
A statue
In love
A t f i r s t, a l a z i l y f l o w i n g r i v e r
Timeless warm glow of a summer’s day
In love with the world’s vibrancy
Inaudible, clock ticking
Safe in seeming endlessness
Each day a lifetime
Some wished away
Years accrue
Time’s grains
Fall
Flow
Faster
Sweet life full
Moments precious
A n t i c i p a t e d
milestones fly past, too fast
Children’s years wax eternal
While ours accelerate quickly
Scenery outside the train’s window
Ever more beautiful, yet blurring, faster
7/13/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
Oh, rain upon me sands of time
with thoughts and memories sublime
and with each kiss of magic dust
transport me to that place I trust
For in the world that is no more
there is always an open door
to visit those I’ve left behind
until the day, their souls to find
Oh, sands of time, please let me fan
the flames of a much younger man
whose mirror saw a softer face
in days of love I can’t replace
To taste of all this life has shared
yet, free of fear from what ensnared
security knows well the past
for nothing changes, free at last
And then, return me to this day
with everything I’ve had in play
so grateful for the life I’ve known
and everything I’ve just been shown
"Time is the thief you cannot banish."
Phyllis McGinley, Writer, 1905 - 1978
the sands flow steadily through the hour glass
can't be stopped~slowed
drifts grain by
slow grain
drips
goes
until
the chosen
end, emptied out
where the soul goes is up to your choosing
Written: November 10, 2020
Contest: Writing Challenge_ Quote Inspired
Sponsor: Constance La France
We Walked The Night Sands, Moon Shining Down
Walking the white sands by the windy sea
Lost in my deep thoughts of love, you and me
Nights in private, locked in long held embrace
In hearts glow, our most cherished hidden place
I walked flowing hills, where we once danced
Waded flowering meadows, where we romanced
Sun and blue sky both reminded me of you
If only, once again blessed, we could do
We journeyed into Nature and love's bliss
O' how that time, I now so sorely miss
We lost our way, coming storm tore us apart
I could not forgive, when you broke my heart
We walked the night sands, moon shining down
I still see you, in your white flowing gown
R.J. Lindley
June 11th, 1975
Oh, precious one, I need you...
Be the missing ying to my yang.
Come on home to a safe haven
In this warm, cozy heart of mine.
Stay forevermore, I implore thee, because...
Without you, there's a hollow there!
And I'll journey through
This vale of tears, incomplete.
Akin to sunlight without the sun,
Or a shadow without light,
Or a Romeo without his Juliet,
Or a pearl being formed without an oyster.
On my own, I am but a starless night.
My dearest, say you need me, too.
Let me be the sparkling star that shines
With light to fill your heart.
I will be as the sun that rises
To make the shadows dance.
Together our home, will be our universe
Where pearls are at our fingertips.
Warmth will fill every hollow corner
As tears dry and smiles commence.
We'll be a shining duo
High as the moon leading tides.
These tides of love in strength we'll share;
Moving endlessly together.
I'll reach your cozy heart
Where I'll stay forevermore!
All this could be, if you complete me.
I beseech you, make me whole.
Edward Ibeh and Heidi Sands: A collaboration.
Poem of The Day on 01/26/2022
Submitted for...
Do- It (Duets) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by James Edward Lee Sr.
Date written: 01/25/2022
Poet's Note: I'd like to take this opportunity thank the prolific, tremendously gifted poetess, Heidi Sands, for being my duet partner for this contest. She jumped at the chance to collaborate with me--despite her current struggle with writer's block--and I couldn't be more grateful and appreciative. I'll forever cherish this romantic poem we created together. I really couldn't have done it without her. I appreciate you, Heidi. xoxo
As I walked on a lonely beach,
I thought I spied a Mermaid--
But no, it couldn't be, I thought.
Yet, drawing near, I saw it was
a Mermaid sunning on a rock.
Her back, I saw, and fins.
as I looked on in shock.
She couldn't see me as I crept forward,
hid and watched
Her hair, like spun gold, blew gently
in Summer's breeze.
Her skin, an opalescent green--
by that, I mean
there were mingled hues
of peridot and opal
creating a soft sea green.
and, when she moved,
created opal's fire
amid her sheen
Her hands were webbed but versatile
and I could only stare
as she braided sunbeams
in her hair.
She began to hum
which soon became a song she sang
the music haunting,
yet nestled deep
were sounds of waves
kissing shore--
music I longed to keep.
Her song reached a crescendo
as sea waves crashed.
A moment only, I turned
and glanced at the sea.
When I looked back,
she had disappeared...
into a memory.
I found a pebble she had left
of iridescent green--a gift.
All along, she knew
I watched.
Often, at dusk,
I walk the lonely sands
and search for her.
I listen for her song...
but she has gone.
No other choice
as my shadow schemes in the sand,
lone cries on lovelorn wings give grief heart’s voice
over scorned wedding band.
Sandcastles are crumbled in undertow’s deceit,
longing and revenge; a million grains ‘neath my feet.
Avenged by briny blue’s retreat,
illusions built too closely to tide’s edge rejoice.
Susan Ashley
June 14, 2019
~ Fourth Place ~
Contest: Writing Challenge, June 2019, Crumbling Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Scorching hot sun..
Sun rays omitting intense heat
The flames of fireballs ignite..
Desert air ..
So dry and still..
A cactus thrives in desert paradise..
Sands of time..
Heat soars to the sky by day..
By night the heat plummets..
Evaporates ..
Moonlight shines..
Drenched in coldness
Chilled air and a frosted moon..
Extremities exist..
Drastic changes occur..
Sands of time..
Time is constant and flowing..
Never ending..
Astronomical unlimited grains of sand in the desert..
A wonderland of vastness and abundance..
Like the grains of desert sand..
Infinity awaits us all..
As we are eternally divine..
I have a small gray rock placed by my bed
Each day it is the first thing which I see.
It stands on guard and watches over me.
Alone a gray, smooth rock, it stands on guard
Well weathered, polished stone, from wind-blown sand.
It was wind-blown and lost in dust of time.
I found this stone near covered with such sand.
It had lain lost, I think, since time began.
Without another rock to call a friend.
There was no other rock, one stone alone.
The God of sand, I may well keep this thought.
No other stone to judge its size I found.
I thought at first it was a grain of sand
One stone alone, in all this sand and lost.
This stone would save me form this sea of sand.
My guarding rock this rock became my friend.
My rock I love and loves me back, my stone.
It sits, it guards me, guards me from the thought--
I am alone in all this sea of sand.
Brown Sands
Sift through our hands
As we walk
This ever shifting beach
Sun risin'
On the red horizon
Nearly within our striding reach
Footprints measure
A mortal treasure
That is ours for a brief time
Between our toes
A mystery unfolds
Of rich Brown Sands so fine
Brown Sands
Will we understand
All that brought us to this place?
It seems
This oasis of dreams
Is either mirage or saving grace
On the dunes
Are written hidden runes
Of what is ours for a brief time
Within our souls
A mystery unfolds
Of rich Brown Sands so fine
Does anyone know why Heidi Sands has gone silent?
Her comments are there, but everything else is private…
My heart is broken to see her this way,
I miss our communication, why has she gone astray?
A beautiful poetess, whose poems were blossoming,
Our conversations were an awesome thing…
The only one here at the soup to give me a tribute,
To me it is a mystery, it does not compute!
My last call for lonely hearts, like me;
To call Heidi back communicating the way it used to be…
It’s like missing a limb to have her gone,
I know she has had a rough life and keeps hanging on…
Heidi, if you see this we miss you girl,
Come back to us like before you poetic pearl.
...she continues to write...but for some reason has turned off commenting and soupmail...
Nov.04.2019
LAST CALL FOR LONELY HEARTS Poetry
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
HM~for contest...Thank You
The Curse of the Dead Sea
Dark ghosts traveling through the chilled air mist
where rare rough rivers, eddied and revolved, in
twists around into a violent, furious funnel offshore,
as this turbulent salt sea of iniquity opens up its storied,
salted bowels with its turgid moving fluids drowning
into a space of predestined bedded death—for all who
unknowingly venture into the embrace of the Dead Sea.
For knoweth that Poseidon, the ancient god of the sea,
may not be there in time to spare thy life that be in the
fatal grip of this salted deadly destiny, and its jeopardy,
as it’s written in the “riddle of sands” that remain blowing
as this earthly desert speaks to thee, spiced by the coldest
of raindrops carried on winds held deep within, as dark
clouds escape with their droplets running down into the
mountain “waters of life” that feed and form an evil river
that pulsates through the deep veins of existence, as drums
inside heartbeats play to a harmonious harp filled with a
mystic music dancing to visions of a salted angel who lives
deep within the Dead Sea.
Falling throughout the depths of time in the history of this
ancient sea of sure death, are grains of sand and pure white
salt which hold misted gems that speak to each and every
human footprint, leaving an imprinted, indelible image true,
behind the frame left crowned in the deep well of a forlorn,
shimmering pond that presciently knoweth that this ancient
Dead Sea, with its “salt of the sand” shall explain to you,
in kind, of the dangers that lurketh within the waters of its
salted, deadly grip, if thou chooseth unwisely to venture in
knowingly or unknowingly.
For Poseidon shall not be there in this “modern age” to
saveth thee and thy immortal soul!
Amen.
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – December 16, 2018
(Narrative)
On golden sands in naked lay
Adventurous hands in touching display
His Maidens skin like fine porcelain
Lips in touch, loves to gain
So caressed she becomes so moist
Groans of excite in wanting voice
Her perfect pink lips lure me to kiss
Sweet she is in hungry bliss
In spiral licks to her lips I head
As she welcomes me home on natures bed
Slowly I enter whilst warmed by she
In kissing touch sharing her honey we be
To her nape I kiss whispering words of love
On natures bed, blue ceiling above
Our movements of joy like the oceans waves
Excite her firm breasts, her pertness I crave
My head in her hands as she entices my bite
Kissing, licking her pert nipples in hardened height
Our bodies now joined in writhing glow
Sharing words of love as our loving shows
My pillar of man between her Vee
In rhythmic motion thee and she
Spontaneous we are in pleasurable voice
Arched she becomes as our bodies rejoice
The release of man cascades her inner walls
Warmed and pink my eyes now befall
A gentle kiss to her heaven I plant
In loving groan, my Maiden now pants
Up her torso I kiss to her lips I share
Sweet tasting honey to her eyes I stare
In gentle touch our moment now lived
Memories we share, for our love we give
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-20.php
Every November, Harlem hums
coquito chilling, collards cooking,
a holiday approaching
that never sat right with me.
Before the parades, the plates,
my mind slips past the pretty lies
we paint over pain
and calls it “Thanksgiving.”
I think about Columbus
the way they crown him a hero
when really
he sparked the unraveling
of my whole bloodline.
Taino shores stained red.
Africans dragged into ships.
A continent bent under the weight of his footsteps.
And every year,
I whisper the same wish:
“If only I could turn back time…”
That’s when the sand rises
lifting out the sidewalk cracks,
spinning into an hourglass storm.
Suddenly I’m in 1492,
staring at the moment
everything went left.
Columbus stands on his deck,
smug, boots tapping out the rhythm
of centuries of sorrow.
And my whole soul wants to stop him
one push,
one word,
one shift in the timeline.
But the sand flickers
and replaces him with worse.
A conqueror history hid
because his cruelty
couldn’t fit on clean white pages.
He doesn’t want gold.
He wants erasure.
The sand darkens.
Across the ocean, Africans fade
not freed,
just gone,
executed on their own soil
before they could ever become ancestors.
The Caribbean I know
Bomba drums,
Taino caves,
abuela’s laughter in Loíza
collapses into dust
so fast I begin fading with it.
I reach for Harlem
its stoops,
its music,
its cultures braided like my own DNA
but my hand slips through the city
as if I’m a ghost
in a world that never had a reason
to make me.
If I change the past,
I erase myself.
I erase my people.
The sand spins like it’s teaching me
with every grain.
Then suddenly
a softer shimmer.
The scene resets.
Columbus steps off the boat humble,
listening.
The Taino greet him without fear,
teaching him how to walk the land
without breaking it.
Years later, Africans arrive
not in chains,
but in hope.
By choice.
Bringing rhythm, language, strength,
building a true America
with the Taino
side by side.
The hourglass rights itself.
Harlem returns
alive, loud, imperfect,
but real.
And I breathe.
I can’t change the past.
But I’m the proof
that my ancestors made it through
anyway.