Best Shadings Poems
Again I lift my pen to write,
My Muse is near to me tonight.
With shadings of strange metaphors
To conquer little wordling wars,
Vast the forest, Poet Trees
Deep the roots,
Sublimities
Where Muses water roots with ink
For thirsty poet's
Souls to drink
In mottled shades of muted light
Abandoned pen begins to write
The Ink is flowing
And none may quell
Deliverance
From Muse-less hell
A tone, an absorption of colour.
A clean slate, the colour of rage
The parts of the eyes that you aim for before you die
Crash-Bang
Flash
You are in the unknown, unafraid, heaven close enough that you can finally see the clarity on a page.
I'm sorry that I stutter, my hands gittering with my heart clanging as I touch the marble in which we are made,
to build ourselves up from transparent ashes.
I am the colour of lies-seen as a harmless thing, sending away rays of refracting light.
The last thing you see when you die-
I'm sorry that I'm not as soft as I used to be, like the white chocolate that bleeds from the fondue fountain
You never never liked me on my own
I am alone.
A piece of art, that is before you decide to make a change, an empty canvas, always a start unclean after the stain, never taken as I am.
I am not an often used pencil, I am ignored unless the situation calls for it.
I am told that I am the goal of purity and the colour of religion.
A colour that is "represented", but I have never felt so alone.
How often do you think of me?
I am the intimidation and untouched higher goal of creators
I'd give my entirety to be colourful again
to stop being an erased stain.
A tone that is mistaken as a colour, just as I am mistaken for mentally healthy, the same.
It is a refraction but can never stand alone
a relatable highlight
because just like the colour I was given I am just here to brighten others works, others paintings, shadings on black paper to stand out and brighten the way for others-
But never my own.
I am the colour white
I was told that as a babe, I would endlessly cry
And nearly drove my Mother out of her mind
No one knew the reason why, as I had loving care
Soon, it was discovered that music brought much relief
During early childhood, learning to play the piano
A true delight to the nuns, who then gave me lessons- free
Later, singing with choirs at different stages of life
I was known to forego more pressing things than music
I found then as I do today, music still accentuates my moods
My spirit cliings to notes as climbing scales
That reach quite unimaginable heights
Which brings me to my feet or invite unabashed tears
In the darkest of times when sadness reigns
When joy is unrestrained; or solitude embrace
Through moments of serenity and various shadings of time
Music, like life's blood flows, brings all that I need
There was a time in my teens, I could easily choose a favorite genre
My tastes have since broadened and I relish many more
I still listen to Luther and my heart melts to his soulful tone
And when I hear Casting Crowns, my soul craves angels' wings
Andrea Boccelli and Il Divo with their operatic pop
Bring a smorgashbord of emotions from canyons within
'Though this is no fact, just my humble imagination, I believe
Music is life and life is music; that neither will ever come to an end
Both will keep refining, reaching that source of perfection
God's animated creation, it seems, bears musical notes
Together, intrinsically designed to sustain and evolve
~*~
Giving some thought as to why write this poem
I did stall for a while then laid hesitation aside
To gaze this mirror; see what others may see
Could be therapy in an introspective way
A badge of loyalty is worn upon this chest
Bearing a heart of gold by way of an open mind
A little impatience fuels my hands on approach
Always the optimist, as this sustains my balance
They say pretty eyes match the beautiful smile I wear
Which radiates genuinely; and is never forced
I speak with a slight accent which I'm told is cool
Blessed with a gift; I get along with most everyone
Yet, being as sweet as honey doesn't lessen my sting
Outgoing, I reach out to perfect strangers with a hand
And when there's nothing to say, I don't enjoy small talk
I believe there're no short cuts in life
I remain a dreamer and still, will forever choose this stance
To see all people as one with no distinction
Just different shadings, hues and multiple flavors
Friends enrich my life, whatever our unique circumstance
Blessings and burdens abound and everyone has his share
~*~
For: Kristen Bruni's "Love Me, Why?" Contest
Midnight Appraisals
The overhead street lamp was our only illumination,
As night shielded our concealed touchings within the moment,
Yet we saw light in the eyes of the stars as they watched us,
Peering at lips pressing past eyelids in the shrouded darkness,
There was music inside the shadings, along with hot breathings,
Made for the late embracing hours of our youthful yearnings,
With astonished meanderings and midnight appraisals of young lickings,
We first saw the highlands of our explorations in the mindless kissings,
We first realized the apex of our desires in the brazen lovemakings,
With the closing of our minds and hearts, surrendering to the moment.
the shades of dark cascade
from dusk to midnight
their gradients increase
only to subside
up and down delightful shadings
their musical scales tickle my heart
gentle is the play of light
that holds dear such delight
to depths of cloudiness
inside the sinews of my mind
AP: Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on June 24, 2022 for contest A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 2ND
Posted on June 23, 2022
blue and black
~
black and blue
eyes aligning
fighting thru
what one
will never see
darting out
in front of me
visions past
shadings last
~
romance
~
promise
green vines of promise
mid the primrose
and penchant of proper
pulling out
lines once cast
lain out
across the waters edge
balmy breeze bows her head
then begs
walking tall
against a sun drenched sea
setting sail
~
wandering
~
will she
come back to me
Blue hyacinths quickly grow anew:
anew, under clear skies of blue.
May is a time for fun and play:
play is synonymous with May.
Reds and whites adorn flowerbeds;
flowerbeds filled with whites and reds.
Tweeting songbirds start competing:
competing, by sweetly tweeting.
Green shadings complement the scene:
scene inked in gradients of green.
Flowers climb up trestle towers;
towers laced with climbing flowers.
Awareness floods my veins
The eyes are open now
Truth fills the soul,
Rushes into the hidden corners
Revelations fall into place
Snap to attention
Like dominoes or perfect solitaire
Razors chilled to freezing
Slice my mind,
Galvanize my sight
While ice claws my lungs---
Breath slowing to a ragged rattle,
I can't think,
I can only write my reactions
To my crucifixion
At your unwitting hands---
Sometimes the pain isn't so blatant.
Sometimes it's subtle shadings,
Intricate turnings of pink---
Lace bonds that constrict
Gently, slowly about the heart...
Unnoticed until they've caused pain for some time.
By then they've cut too deeply,
Become too embedded to remove.
Don't get me wrong---
In some veiled, perverse way,
I enjoy it---
I enjoy learning nothing
From my mistakes---
Shadings..
How do the senses relate to "being?" The senses can seem to
be objects residing in a subject/object world, but perhaps there
is a unicity present, in that, senses and sensing might seem as
one, or being. The mind will picture things like eyes or noses
which pull into the separation cage of belief and illusion. But,
backing off from all these floating thoughts, with their nagging
dissatisfactions, it might dawn that being appears as senses
and sensing, and eyes and noses..and separation's shadings of
being are blatantly exposed...
October's moving in
I can feel it on my skin.
The wind blows lightly every leaf
but brings in the cooling sheaths
pushing back
the leftovers summer beats lack;
In the quiet rush
the trees whisper, hush
calling out to all of us,
change is in the breeze;
the warm that remains
is just a hint of September games
leaning into fall residue
autumn calling in the faded hues;
colors ranging from the lime lemon blends
into the shadings of olive-brown russets
so many shadow feature ramblings
rest in the crimson carmine maroons;
the sun rises late, ambers crawling in
setting early to the harvest orange crimson
and the reawakening of the blood moon
with autumn calling a lurid dying of October from June;
October's moving in
making for winter taunts and teasing
in the constant changing of the season.
This light were much the duller
Embellishment by far
When set against, antipathetic
Of what seemingly mar;
For those shadings, tree-blown
In the woody storm-thrown.
In one, who so pretending
To be perfect always
A smirk, a sour-faced contrast
Could enliven my days!
Refreshing, if fearsome walked!
And if finally balked!
The years have followed
though we stay young in our minds
My eyes still see you,
Through the shadings of my heart,
as you were when we first met
I gaze into your eyes
See my aged reflection.
What would I look like
If I could see through your eyes
the image you hold of me
The Pride And The Longing
One man’s ‘Old Days’
another man’s ‘New’
Chasing a memory
the pilgrim is due
One reminisces
what one only schemes
The pride and the longing
— two sides of a dream
(Ardmore Pennsylvania: June, 2025)
Shades Of Gray
Mixing wheat
with the chaff
The good
with the bad
In shadings
of gray
The truth
finds a home
Taking shape
from the whole
When shunning
both ends
Polarity’s
vanish
And clarity
— shown
(Ardmore Pennsylvania: June, 2025)