Best Screeches Poems
Gleefully you and I smile from a scenic window on life
Enchanted by nightfall befriending quixotic autumn sky
Embossing crimson brushstrokes on vermilion arc
Akin to a painting in classical style of renaissance art
Parading in front of our eyes on a thrilling train ride,
When orange glow of sinking sunset playfully smiles back,
As we savor shrimp-creole with red wine in the dining car
And train-tracks beneath us rhythmically clickety-clack
Negotiating the panoramic curves befitting forested lands
Announcing the mighty reach of whistling train-horn,
When the half-moon above peeks through twinkling stars.
Balancing gingerly footsteps we jaunt back to our roomette
Settling in on narrow bunk beds in a tiny modest space
Marveling the red, brown, golden foliage trickling outside
Falling on multi-color motif carpeting the misty grounds,
As engine screeches intermittently, braking, slowing down,
Screaming loud whistle-calls, approaching station stops.
We endeavor to sleep until dreams invoke beauteous dawn
Awakening to thick white clouds of dense morning fog
Slowly giving way to glorious sun-rays piercing the forest,
Where cheerful robins dance upon a long leafless branch
Welcoming marigold sunrise on the horizon’s blue path
As you and I reminisce in the whispering night of romance.
October 24, 2019
HM: Strand special by Brian Strand
From Atlanta to Washington DC on an overnight train
As I walk downtown I see an alley
Where a black cat sat staring up at me,
The sound of her purring was so soothing
Lulled and hypnotized me how could that be.
With its green eyes lightning up the darkness
I saw a sign was hanging that said Tea,
It seemed to be just around the corner
In an alley that led down to the sea.
I walk and the black cat seems to follow
Awareness of her presence filled the air,
In a flash we turned around the corner
Where stood an old stone building with one stair.
I looked to find the feline now missing,
Then climbed the step and gently pushed the door,
Cobwebs hung from rafters on the ceiling,
The wind made dust balls race across the floor.
I noticed tea of all sorts lined each wall,
The smells of herbs and spices filled my nose.
Sitting in a corner sat a woman,
Glaring at me sniffing a thorny rose.
Her eyes an emerald green that sparkled
Her hair a shiny black darker then night,
By her stood a broom with crooked handle
My senses told me something was not right.
I turned and ran while saying I’m sorry,
It seems I’m lost forgive me and good day,
Hearing horrid screeches I am shaking
Running around the corner in late May.
Soaked with sweat I run out to the main street
People wonder why I’m carrying on,
As I shout loud, don’t go down this alley
I turn and notice that it now is gone.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
10.17.2014
For Francine Roberts Contest
Around the Corner
2nd
Lilac perfumes the Summer's sultry air,
wafting fragrance upon the evening breeze.
And an indigo sky of flawless blue;
frames the emerald leaves atop the trees.
Sol melts like a nugget of molten gold,
slowly sinking into a sea of fire.
And ebony saturates the darkness;
as any lingering sunbeams expire.
The loud screeches of an owl pierce the dark,
disturbing the silence imposed by night.
And teal silhouettes morph into pitch black
as shifting shadows absorb the last light.
Luna rises at a leisurely pace;
beautifying night with Her beaming face.
It'd been one of the most bizarre days; downright crazy
so I had a martini, maybe four, so things got kinda hazy
I fumbled in my wallet so I could pay my pricey bar tab
Friends thought I had too many, so they put me in a cab
I stumbled up the steps. It seems walking was a chore
Couldn't find my key, so I tried beating down the door
Her screeches of "Where the bloody hell have ya been?"
Pounded in my head, making me sorry that I'd come in.
She hissed, then off to the kitchen she foolishly prattled
With horrendous noises, pots and pans were being rattled
My head was sorely throbbing so I begged her to be quiet
She screamed, "Don't yell at me! Blame your liquid diet!"
She banged a bowl of something down on the table cloth.
I weaved my way to a chair as my mouth began to froth
Put my head in my hands when the room started spinning
Caught a glimpse of that evil woman. Yeah, she was grinning
A mound of muck she'd plunked down right in front of me
looked like it should still be swimming in the salty sea
It smelled vile and disgusting... nauseatingly atrocious
I gagged and turned away, that's when Liz became ferocious
I couldn't move an inch to find my way back to the couch
I was a brick, held by mortar. My wife was being a grouch
but I couldn't find the strength to flee. I felt far too dizzy
My turn to shout, "Can you just stop your naggin', Lizzie?"
I didn't mean to say it, and my words came out so slurred
My vision was fuzzy. Everything was clouded and blurred
Something was staring up at me while awful music played
That's when I saw green heads and grew appallingly afraid
Whether fantasy or reality, frogs had escaped from a pond
These were fugly creatures. From evil they'd been spawned
I was being serenaded by a quartet of deep croaking voices
So suffers the drunken man while his heartless wife rejoices
I crawled to bed when I couldn't take the harmony any more
Lizzie punched me and said, "Wake up if you're gonna snore."
I tripped down the stairs, woke the dog and made him bark
Left the wife and found a bench to sleep it off in the park
In the dreary tune of a city's groan,
when streets escape the raging claws
of haggard breaths, a line of stars blink
trading some warmth with human arms...
beyond sighing notes the dusk possesses,
there are more wrists handcuffed on tainted
steel of unjust labor for children and women
who toil beyond midnight hours.
A single violin strain bites the screeches
of grief and pain, of humanity rendered
in ruins wrapped in tattered gauze: outlines
of freezing shapes coiling in fetal postures,
and they swallow a victim's blood, wondering,
if the god of freedom star can restore
power of life where mangled lungs
cry in despise.
Yet, the candle burns inside their hearts
to feed dire hunger of jailed souls
as the will to plod an inner odyssey blazes,
searching for some need to give this slavery
a voice: that birthright of choice
ordained by one divine, universal law...
the kind that fires the oneness of all mornings.
.............................
Cyndi MacMillan's I Can't Breathe... Contest
by nette onclaud
~ Currently, the Human Rights of many women
and children are violated in Asia.
There are women who are victims of sexual exploitation
under military dictatorship, and children who become
involved in human trafficking and are forced to work.
~http://hrn.or.jp/eng/g-activity/activista/
The trees soar high into the sky
Monkeys dangling, now swing
filling the air with screeches
Colourful parrots take to wing
of reds, yellows and oranges
drowned by the dripping water.
Man-eating plants on guard,
Fresh rivers of fruit and bark
ground to the gorilla
Orchids of oxygen supply the wind
Vines hang peacefully throughout
the rainy garden.
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
poem of the day 08/02/2015
A solitary sail of contrasting
White in a salty sea of blue.
From its own land, to disconnect,
Why seek a land that's new?
In a friendly sea where the mast bends
From soothing winds it takes heart.
However; it seeks not happiness
Nor from happiness does it depart.
The sea glistens much brighter
Than the warm sun filled sky,
Yet rebellious, it seeks a storm,
As if to find peace within its eye.
Translation by Connie Marcum Wong
Note: A melancholic soul often feels more at home
surrounded by chaos when one has been raised in
constant chaos on the edge.
**************************************
Original poem
The Sail
By Mikhail Lermontov
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Literal translation
A lonely sail shows white / against the sea's blue mist. / What does it seek in a distant region? / What has it abandoned in its own land?
The waves play, the wind whistles, / and the mast bends and screeches… / Alas, it does not seek happiness / and is not running away from happiness.
Beneath it the current is brighter than the azure, / above it is the sun's golden ray… / But it, rebellious, asks for a storm, / as if there were peace in storms.
(Literal tr. Donald Rayfield, with Jeremy Hicks, Olga Makarova and Anna Pilkington)
perched on a high tree
a blue jay lookout screeches ~
swift bristling of crests
[when blue jays feed in peace, their crests are lowered, but
become raised when danger is sensed.]
https://www.howmanysyllables.com
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Bird Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Placed 3rd
© 16th March 2022
ON RESCUING AN INJURED PIGEON
I.
sliding screen door screeches, pigeons scatter
thump of wing against breast, shockwave breeze
more frequent than in the past, shimmering necks
soundtrack squirrel zig-zags, new-green lawn
perches like the pigeons, await my departure
II.
he appeared in the night, a tattered statue
grey as the rumbling skies, white patch on his back
must be hurt, too painful to move, teal collar
my compassion swells, how can I help?
leave him seed and water, natural healing
III.
red-toed demon leaving bird-turd on my deck
can barely walk let alone fly away, railing perch
rain or sun sits most of the day, ruffled feathers
hit his head or fallen, maybe a scuffle with a cat
wants to be part of a flock, I move closer
IV.
day three I made him a coop, Bucky by name
Becky if it’s a girl, I’m not checkin’, won’t go in
moving better, flies a little, short bursts
still prefers my perch, watch him sleep, still
hours to days, nothing seems to change
V.
the four-legged’s have found the coop and feed
I become my grandmother chasing chipmunks, futile
Bucky likes grass, hacksaw walk, double-banded
looks strong enough to fly, abandoned racer
wonder, is it psychological or could it me?
VI.
trail of seeds brought him to the edge, coop and me
as I watch him he watches me, wide ruddy eyes
huddles in a ball on one foot, freckled vest
finally, twice today he found his way to the coop
sad he can’t go home, sheltered but dispossessed.
VII.
animal rescuer Howard came with a net today
tried clumsily to catch him, lift and accelerate
over the treetops he flew, circled back to land
from the rooftop he smiled down at us, relieved
proof time heals all wounds, in rock pigeon world.
Aug 30/18
He turns away from me to say goodbye
Quivering not, I felt a pinch...so damn alone
While the night raven screeches up high
As crystal tears bleed of why, down the bones.
Somehow, a dove climbs on my lap, to show
How the moon rises as new flowers glide;
While Heaven awaits starlight's afterglow
Enshrining this moment where peace abides.
.............................
Gail Doyle's Finding God Contest
8/7/2014
.-G-.
.-R-.
.-O-.
.-O-.
.-V-.
.-E-.
.-S-.
pierce my ears,
caressing notes to rake
tears on such moonlit aches,
strings groan through passages
on breaths as scrapes of violin
lurch; veiled weeping dives
low like fine spear falling
on my riddled head,
as if to crack reeds
just there,
enthralled
by heaves of waved air
swelling along melodies
tragic in liquid gothic drones,
my old innocence plucked raw
beyond deep allegro of time;
tunes' long drags hard to bear
peeling my burnt flesh slow
the fine bow screeches,
I cry on slain notes
Adrift upon the ocean
bob a bunch of resting birds.
What is it that they call themselves?
A flock or school or herd?
Could it be this feathered colony
is a band or horde at best
No screeches, calls or gaggling,
they don’t brood or crowd or nest
Spread out like black freckles,
birds are shuffled by default.
Flavoring the ocean
dash of pepper to sea’s salt
Not gliding like mighty albatross
with wingspan strong and wide.
Or dancing with the currents
right by the dolphins side
Just floating in the middle
between the blue and green
Neither soaring in the heavens
or a coral dance routine
And there, what’s that beneath them,
beyond their paddling feet
Just some strange attraction?
Or friends they’re yet to greet.
A sudden splash of water!
Could it be a pod of whales?
Or the giggle of a baby seal,
nipping at their tails.
Will they look right through the jellyfish,
that flash and throb and group
to the gathering bunch of mackerel
congregating in the soup
But no, they’re not much bothered
by the party in full swing.
They just gossip amongst each other
While cleaning weathered wings
Waiting for the wind to change
On the ocean they sit tight
Regaining all that energy
needed to take flight
So what's its name, this party?
Of primp and craning necks.
In the skies they flock together
On the ocean, they’re a wreck!
I am an owl
Alert and awake,
can turn my head at crazy angles,
I have a night vision !
Flight is silent,
can think far beyond imagination,
I have a sense of intuition !
Unsaid wisdom,
Misunderstood as stupidity screeches,
I am a fortune fiction !
Mysterious raptor,
can hunt cheaters, liars and unkind,
I am a swift slayer !
Silent through the day,
darkness puts me on the prowl,
I am a solitary owl !
Written May 16th, 2015
For Andrea's contest
Owl - symbol of silent wisdom and vision in the night
Got NA
Now entered for contest " Screwed IV" by rob carmack
As spring brings life to all that sleep
Spirit, body and mind renew
Joy reflects in bursts of blossoms
Heralding new birth to God’s creation
As man and nature journey as one
In a dance of celebration
Hope reborn in all that live
As the summer of life screeches by
Visitors invited, welcome to share
Love, laughter, living and dying
Soon comes bittersweet joy of liberation
Knocking, bearing gift of freedom
As mountains rise along the way
As the autumn of life drifts in
The lights of my eyes will grow dim
Yet the hummingbird still sings
Joy of my vision, my rock
Through light of day or darkest night
Like a child I trust, I sleep
As the winter of life arrives
When my tresses turn white as snow
With the sound of my voice just a whisper
Though shallow breath, my prayers ascend
To the joy of my salvation
Just beyond invisible gates
I will in quiet adoration kneel
Note: Written 9/17/09
By Audrey Carey
Entry for Constance La France's "Why Oh Why" Contest
The clouds part at their roots…
Colliding the winds, waves
Crashing the shores.
We meet…
A rare combination
Of circumstances,
Our situation aggravate
A drastic storm, perfectly.
Words swarm our minds
Like busy bees in search
Of the sweet nectar of allegorical,
Similes and metaphoric explanations…
Pollinating our conscience and subconscious
Respectfully…
The obvious perplexities of poetic banter
And inconspicuous meaning
That bounds us…
Words that conjure from elevated places,
And rollercoaster into the subliminal…
Twirling around into loops, pen to paper
Screeches and screams to an abrupt stop.
The unexplainable written,
Describing what was unknown…
Scrambling to unscramble words
To define this acquaintance,
And when the stars play chase
Through the night sky
And the moon is set-
Know that somewhere out there
Two poets have met…