Best Sandstorms Poems
How can I flood your waters
when your barriers hold me back?
How can I fill your mind
when it's preoccupied and blind?
How can I fulfill your needs
when there is no way of pleasing these?
How must I cross your mountains
when your forest is so thick inside?
How can I fly through your skies
when you cloud the vision of my eyes?
How can I swim through your oceans
when your undertow keeps pulling me down?
How can I walk through your deserts
when your sandstorms keep blinding me so?
How can I kiss you gently
when you disguise the love I know?
A collaboration with Carole Duet.
COMPANION POEM TO :
ODE TO MYRRH TREE
So Myrrh stood in centre of desert
wild winds through branches delivering untruths plaited with sorrow
dust particles choking cacti
scatterings of sparse rain made
no patter ~
silence w a i t i n g
white became her trunk scrubbed with
daunting sunrays through sluggish day
undulating endless sand dunes …
panted
time miracle-less, no veils shielded
raw core, passive ~
lizards l o u n g e d
odourless her branches lost seduction
no oily lubricants for pear-shaped flesh
brittle bark snapped in lost loneliness
beauty a faded glory buried
d e e p
beetles spent by breeding atop
harsh grit of ancient desert f o s s i l i s e d
mystical myrrh magic was no more
her stump dissipating into fragments
sore
breathless desert discerned, exhausted
camels, lashes threadbare, kneeled surrender
tongues brittle papyrus into electrons
lips parched ~
lines of m e l a n c h o l y
Tree of kings, empresses and prophets !
where have colourful canvassed tents in
sandstorms gone with patterned serpents curling to tunes of alluring pipes,
smoke honey eyes, when limbs twined warm ~
sensual t o g e t h e r
the All-Embracing laments
languid
across desert’s fierce micro flames
sweat dripping ~ His amber inlays
melting into black beads
disappearing
soundless screams ache
starving l o n g i n g
ages of loveless waiting
what is beauty but terror flipped ?
wrinkles speak of struggle and beasts
time tightening grip across
opEN
s p a c e
scent slipping ashen dregs
as desert creatures cackled an end
stars dripping crystalline sorrow
myrrh momentarily disappeared …
___________________________
Published: Edge of Humanity Magazine:
June 26
Placed : 5th Premier Contest
Sponsor : Brian Strand
April 26
Everyone called him Great
The Kind soaked with pride
He blew his own trumpet
Was he the God’s own child!
His subjects lived in misery
He did not bother for their plight
‘Can’t drink water, drink wine’
He shunted misery out of sight
Darkness never mattered for him
Beautiful women lighted his nights
No opponents to challenge him
He took delight at his might
‘Who is the wisest of you all?’
He made the wise men fight
Rewarded the chosen ones
The rest fled out of sight
The king strode over a desert once
The Sandstorms put him in a bind
Thirst overcomes him, no water at sight
His soldiers flee, left him behind
No drop of water around
The king went wild
Like an oasis, he saw a lone old man
Walking afar, nothing to hide
The Kind appealed to show the way
Promised to give back anything in kind
The old man asked for his kingdom
The angry King made him blind
The old man laughed at him
Ego made the King blind
Rains lashed over his dead body
The soul was back in humankind
You would assume I am thirsty in this dire heat,
Or that my needles would cause others to quickly retreat,
You would conclude that my flowers were only for show
Or that if someone didn’t water me I would never grow,
But what you don’t see in plain eye sight
Is that I am flourishing with waters of integrity and might,
Under these thorns you call choked up defenses
Breeds the strength to survive all forms and pretenses,
To you I require little maintenance… but I know better,
I know how to absorb all I need in good and bad weather,
For I was strategically placed in this atmosphere,
All I need dwells in my structure enabling me to stay clear
Of beasts that lurk when sandstorms arise,
When mirages start to mesmerize,
When signs and wonders appear in fallen skies,
And soldiers forget to break ancient soul ties,
I stand my post and flaunt my spikes,
A cactus heart survives all flights.
By: Sabina Nicole
Written: In a Very dry Place
Contest: Forgot
O~n occasion, the mind accretes to, "the hurt," when facing
V~icissitudes; blinded by, "the better nature," causing to
E~fface the focus from the Architect while simultaneously
R~aising questions why. Impatience encourages the
C~ollaboration of misery to consult with those of the same mind.
O~nly then to find temporary pleasure due to humanly clocks power.
M~entally drained by dint of attacks upon attacks; seemingly to be
I~nsufferable and impregnable. Though the Architect,
N~ever vanishes and will never vanish from the scene. So,
G~ive and release all apprehension with entire trust.
S~torms will arise from daybreak to nightfall. It must be remembered the
A~rchitect of whom in total control oversees misery so
N~ever question the authority. Become courageous and
D~etermined that, "This Too Shall Pass." Be conscious of
S~trength, wisdom and knowledge evolving afterwards.
T~oday, focus on the size of the Architect and Not
O~n what the mind can't do. Always
R~emain prayerful and faith filled.
M~ust never ignore the Architect of whom created life's puzzle
S~hifting all elements of sand in place from day to day.
(To those who will receive)
Architect-God
Vicissitudes- Ups and Downs
Insufferable-Unbearable
Impregnable-Unconquerable
Dint-Force
Efface-Wipe Away
Pace, INK-U-SCRIPT
Contest Title: Build Your Own Sand
9/16/2013
Into the sandbox
Come the flappers and the seekers
Like puppets on strings
Dancing to their own childish whims
The profiler watches
As they think they sing
The poison in their stories a piercing ring
Like chess moves, piece by piece
Slowly
From a blank slate
We see the wrong turns inflicted at childhood
Them thinking they are so misunderstood
Sandbox babies
Making sandstorms
Proclamations of their righteousness
Even as they commit both big and petty sins
Narcissistic egos purchasing mirrors at IKEA
So they can stare at their own opinions
Locking their minds in the open mirrored box
No refunds
It was just another story, my grandmother told
I wish I had known, what I've learned since then
How the dust from the hills swept over the plains
and how months without rain, would change everything.
Out of water, had been no worry
Until it changed their life, back then,
It was how she met the man
It is partly her own story
It is part of who I am
I can see it all so clearly,
How they paid a price, so dearly,
She was Kansas born and bred,
They had built a life securely
staking everything they owned
on a home, on a life, in the loam.
Short of water, was the motto
It had changed her life, back then,
It was how she met her man
It is part of her old memories
It is part of who I am
On the homestead, growing barley,
growing wheat, and corn, and kids
Sharing love she had for family
but the drought had come instead.
No water for their crops, no feed to fill the stock
The hardship and the illness
And drought upon the hills
No coin the pay the bills.....meager water in the pail
Quivering trees, and stiff shocks of corn
Withering slowly, from the winds
Sandstorms covered scores
of farmland till the end
Her husband growing ill
A grave dug in the sand
Out west, another land
No man to hold her hand
In the west they found the water
It had changed her life, back then,
It was how she met her man
It is partly her own story
It is part of who I am
_________________________________________
2/21/15
"Out of Water" Contest: Sponsored By Sheri Fresonke Harper
Am I dessert butterfly?
My wings harden each time I fly,
Against the sandy winds;
So, might my wings shatter
From all contrary pressures that I duel with?
I know they might crack or shatter someday
From over-pressured sandstorms,
Like I a broken winged dessert butterfly...
Like a broken winged dessert butterfly,
A raindrop's kiss is what I need,
So that I revitalize
My hardened wings and heart...
Only when a raindrop kisses me,
My wings will regain their former splendor and grace;
So that I can fly on and on,
Disappearing through a rainbow...
I still follow
the blinking spells
of the rose wine sunsets
before surging sandstorms,
believing in the euphoric breeze
floating across the
shivering skyline,
echoing vermilion voices,
lost in the limestone grains,
as questions of change
interrogate the empathy
encrypted within
my inhibited intuition,
like spices of kismet flames,
swirling to the fluid fluency
of sentimental keys
in saxophone tunes…
But in the midst of moving monsoons,
I feel the eagle feathers of Zeus
rain upon the crystalline swing,
crooning songs of tameless time~
wrapped in the crescent cocoon
of silent splendor,
as I rise, dressed in steel and silver.
I hear the bluebird dream
in symphonies of the karmic sea,
streaming with specters
of star-struck ghosts…
O majestic marine jewel,
change is a promised ocean.
It’s sprouting coral blues
from reefs of ambergris embers,
awaiting floods of onyx tears
and jagged thistles,
like a tsunami of smeared streaks
reflecting the smoke
and swollen stains of the red sun.
Tonight, I erase the last mistake;
a scribbled imitation
of my aching past,
for I could not veil the scars,
failing to seize the
splitting clusters of
slate and garnets,
burning between
sleepless lakes,
drenched in midnight terrors,
as satanic waves
blur the turquoise surfing
through the limitless twilight.
Yet, I hear the mermaid moon
call my name in magical refrains,
steering my iridescent silhouette
to an ivory shore
where ebony hints of ink
would home the hermit castles,
where you and I can breathe~
as soulmates destined
to draw neon lifelines from
bioluminescent sparkles…
So let the bluebird drift into an orchid dream
where karma is the poet~
draped in deep violet,
writing elegies
to the eclipsed eyes of the red sun
that stole the silk and sage
of summer sighs…
And change is more than just a mere rhyme,
it is the ultimate essence
to rearrange
whimsical words
woven within wind
from honey and gold
of a
dulcet
dawn.
"Surely the day is coming; it will burn like a furnace. All the arrogant
and every evil doer will be stubble, and that day that is coming will set
them on fire,' says the Lord Almighty. Not a root or branch will be left
to them ... and they will be ashes under the soles of your feet."
Malachi 4:1-3, Old Testament Prophet
dr stephen strange, was a egotistical doctor
till he hurt his hands
and seeking a cure he found the ancient one
to become sorcerer supreme
dr victor von doom, monarch
he wears an iron mask to hide his evil scarred face
arrogant, superior, he has no mercy
he is very powerful
doom's mother was killed
in a bargain gone wrong with the mephisto
aged genghis, a powerful wizard calls a meeting
for all sorcerers
there is
a wild battle that leaves only strange and doom
strange in the end is winner
but the runner up doom is granted a gift
he wants to free is mother
with dr strange's help
but, doom plans
to exchange strange's soul for his mothers soul
entering hell they battle the hellfire demons
satan is angry
he sets black ravens and sandstorms to stop them
and they get separated
they wander in hell searching
till doom meets up with satan and makes a deal
to free his mother's soul he will exchange strange's soul
his mother is disgusted
in a battle with satan the doctors win
cynthia is then freed and goes to heaven
strange and doom return to earth
was it a triumph
dr doom had an evil plan
in the name of love
well, he got what he wanted
and that was to at last free his mother's soul
____________________
March 09, 2023
Poetry/Suzette Prime/Doctor Strange and Doctor Doom Go To Hell
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1530-378-09
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Suzette Prime is a form created by Suzette Richards of PS
Written for the Premiere contest, Hell
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, Judged 03/10/2023
First Place
A Search for Love’s Companion Terza Rhyma
If treach’rous men detain you in climes hot—
I’d battle sandstorms in the zenith noon,
Outwit the kidnapers –despoil their plot.
If you be lost at sea in dread typhoon,
Tho’ rescue ships may falter –all a ’shred--
I’d plunge shark-depths –prepared with my harpoon.
I knew my parents slept in true love’s bed--
Tho’ sought I substitutes—they’re empty shells--
(Refuse to think of lonely tears I’ve shed.)
Like Dante, I have glimpsed my share of hells,
But know that light exists in lover’s eyes--
In voice abides the intricacy of bells.
With diligence my search will carry on--
When our souls meet-- twill signify love’s dawn
V Anderson-Throop 29 July 2013 ©
Crossroads without roads
Bonsai trees slapped by sandstorms
Kites slam in rice fields
In the middle of the universe, I stand
deep in my chamber of death, resurrected
with no recollection of the life before
no memories of past civilizations
no planets, no comets, no Ra
In this dark vastness, my pyramid is a spaceship
launched from the Sahara desert, seeking companionship
carrying the hieroglyphics to map the cosmos
pointing to infinity from this epicentre
guided by an interstellar compass
I peer into the vacuum through the ventilation shaft
into the continuum with no soul insight, no stars right or left
I stand alone, unconscious and omnipresent as a GodKing
surrounded by silence and confusion,
I break down the walls with a big bang!
My complexion bares lashes of solar winds and sandstorms
my scarred eye sockets carry two insignificant helium atoms
they split into magnifisance to allow me instant sight, with a profound vision
with time stretching, with no hesitation,
from nothing take to the force of gravitation
To recreate anew, my ultimate universe
to set in motion galaxies and create a new paradise
to start a perfect system based on irrefutable laws of physics
pouring out light into the empty, dark space,
at the speed of light, to split the seconds
Ice Breaker
doomsday glaciers melting rest upon seabed
benign blizzard temps endanger ground zero
turbulence cause a desert
warming waters near frozen lakes I shall fear
Iceland volcano displays her open wounds
magma of our Earth’s crust vomits Her vengeance
blue lagoon shimmers of red blood polar bear
global sea level rises
accelerating where there should be more ice
magic gone shows no mercy
dazzled domain of milky beauty lacks snow
sandstorms in the ice bubble
millennia of the past we inherit
minke whale
blubber made into goulash
expedition boats bulbous bow ice breakers
who will dominate Antarctica's future
consolation prize has awarded no one
my world shall go from snow white to a blue sea
sixty eight percent freshwater flows freely
If God is the Ocean,
are we water droplets and tidal waves?
If God is the Sun,
are we light beams and shadows?
If God is the Desert,
are we grains of sand and sandstorms"
If God is the Moon,
are we moonbeams and darkness?
If God is the Mountain,
are we the rocky paths and the summits?
If God is the Wind,
are we spring breezes and thunderstorms?
If God is Eternity?
are we the Now?