Best Sharpening Poems
"Home is Where the Heart Is"
Savages
behind closed doors
Civilised
but wild animals
sharpening claws
Humanity
tries to escape itself
can’t run away
from finding
"TRUE HOME"
behind closed doors
Now opening windows
fresh air
escaping shadows
Legs splayed and arms wide
breathe
"LIFE"
in for once,
we are empty vessels
noisy prisoners
in our own skin
Soul seeking Soul
peers through
the vitreous humour
99% water, salty
the Soul swims
through an ocean
towards the aqueous perimeter
facing the clear shallows
there the
"LIGHT"
penetrates the space
between the lens
like royal jelly
the Soul stands
it begins to sing
wobbling behind
the retinas reflecting
a Blue Sky
bit by WASP
kissed vehemently
in the heart
the stinging barb fixed,
Love, like a virus,
pumps the relevance
of existence
Crimson
through
Violet Blue Green rivers
Home is where the Heart Is
the hornets’ nest broken
rebirthed, awoken
wet wings spreading
unfurling in lock-down
velocity rattles
the Normals,
the civilised
wild animals
sharpening claws
a Soul
escapes the hive
dripping honey
like a Bee
pollinating white sheets
towards the Sun
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
“Home is Where the Heart Is” / The Chameleons
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOl9lohiMP8
1. The 'Vitreous Humour'
2. WASP
"Home is Where the Heart Is" / The Chameleons, Lyrics
https://genius.com/The-chameleons-home-is-where-the-heart-is-lyrics
https://visioneyeinstitute.com.au/eyematters/the-vitreous-humour/
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/all_that_is_seen_and_unseen_1223436
Categories:
sharpening, freedom, imagery, life,
Form:
Free verse
I'll bet this set of rusty shears have a story they could tell,
of the loneliness and broken backs in a land that's hot as hell,
where hopes and dreams mirrored lives that these shearers led,
here among the ruins of an outback-shearing shed.
I'll bet this set of rusty shears have a story often told,
in optimistic mirages where water is pure as gold,
and living quarters offered would barely shield the moon
in stifling heat of summer, or bitter cold in June.
All that's left is one wall teasing, the wind to blow it down.
Mustering yards are overgrown; mulga posts lie on the ground.
There's hand-made nails, broken rails, memories that are spread,
here among the ruins of an outback shearing shed.
I feel like I'm intruding out here on the western plains,
standing here in a ghostly wind where it hardly ever rains,
imagining I lived the life that these shearers led,
in the ruins with the ghosts of an outback shearing shed.
All that's left is one wall teasing, the wind to blow it down.
Mustering yards are overgrown; mulga posts lie on the ground.
Oil tins and sharpening stone, broken glass is widely spread
here among the ruins of an outback shearing shed.
I'll bet this set of rusty shears have a story they could tell,
of the loneliness and broken backs in a land that's hot as hell,
where hopes and dreams preceded lives that these shearers led,
here among the ruins of an outback-shearing shed.
Categories:
sharpening, farm, history, , western,
Form:
Lyric
My Inventory:
flashlights
high-performance yo-yo
poetry books
fishing poles
ice-fishing hut
regret
pocket knife
sharpening stones
laughter
boomerangs
passwords
life's artifacts
Grandpa's Fishing Hat
hope and joy
Guardian Angel
wooden snow-sleds
more poetry books
olde-tyme-radios
compassion
camping gear
Babar, the Stuffed-Elephant
Angel-in-a-basket
imagination
McCoy Cookie Jars
nature field-guides
forgiveness
Soup-friends
ties I don't wear
family heirloom recipes
suits I try not to wear
treasured photographs
170 poems
antique lamps
my Children's love
......and You
my Savior
....... Jesus Christ
Categories:
sharpening, life
Form:
List
One moment east of twilight
Shadows outdistance the sun
Sharpening peaks and hallows,
Honed against the sparks of light.
Deep in the brow of the silence
I stand to watch the moonrise,
Overtaken by the dark
____________
For Contest : 215
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Categories:
sharpening, dark, eve, nature, night,
Form:
Verse
Dear 2024,
I hope this poetic vow
wouldn’t be shunned,
as I block negativity
from my phone,
like my bitter exes.
And forgive my sense
of humor that
resembles sour grapes,
like a dash of salt
and pepper sprinkled
on top of old drapes.
Perhaps, as this
year bids adieu,
I’ll find the right
ingredient to concoct
sparkling wine infused
with giggles that
age like
chucklesome limericks,
as I fine-tune the
empty spaces
of my scribbled
pages with hilarity.
I’ll learn to laugh a
little louder and hope
the ebb of every
comical tale can flow.
Maybe a stricter
chocolate diet would
help me see the
sweeter side of
powdered comedians,
sharpening my wit
as endorphins enhance
my ability to spot
the depth of puns
punctuated
with bizarre tones.
And as December rain
drizzles in symphony
of the darkness
my quill flaunts,
pardon these
peculiar metaphors,
I’ll raise a glass
of crocodile tears,
a toast for
more concise poetry,
and faces I’ve phased,
that I’ll no longer
vent about in vain verses.
Cheers to the
festival lights
on wheel of laughter,
may the florescence
forever flicker as
souvenirs of amusement.
I’ll dance into the
rising sun of a new year,
in an odyssey adorned
with shimmering dreams
embalmed in
tickling mint leaves.
Categories:
sharpening, future, giggle,
Form:
Free verse
If my life flashed before my eyes…
There would be a moment of sadness
Yet, there would be more joy and gladness
There would be a smile of recollection
With the melody of tender affection
There would be assurance and contentment
Without the whisper of pain or resentment
There would be a light to illuminate the heart
With peace and love that you’d never take apart
There would be inspiration beyond words
With originality expressed in the afterwards
There would be imagination glowing silently
On a breath of rich kindness, never violently
There would be memories of compassion and caring
Hope and faith that are beyond our comparing
There would be honesty and integrity brought to life
Relieving all worry, sorrow and even the strife
There would be miracles performed through prayer
Promises of God’s gifts so we will never despair
There would be pictures of the ones I’ve cherished
Guaranteeing my heart that they haven’t perished
There would be sights and sounds and amazing grace
Tenderness that comes from knowing His embrace
There would be peace like none I’ve ever known
Reassuring my soul that I won’t ever be alone
There would be an inner feeling of absolute wonder
More vibrant than lightening and louder than thunder
There would be the warmth of knowing God is here
There is no doubt I’m loved and have nothing to fear
There would be the love that brings hearts to pledge
Their lives for the purpose of sharpening truth’s edge
There would be the praise that fills up my soul
With worship and singing as His love does console
Categories:
sharpening, inspirational, life, light, nostalgia,
Form:
Couplet
I am very pleased to present a third collaboration with Robert Lindley,
an extraordinary poet who inspires and humbles me with his pen.
A Collaboration With Robert Lindley
27th October 2018
The root of the melancholy
he has not always known,
and perhaps, with strangers
and with unknown strangeness,
he has embraced its love
and loved its hateful wounds.
He prides the strength resting his bones,
the iron-glove that wields power grasped
in his haste to taste its honeyed glow,
anticipation seeds ever greater destruction
as horrific night dreams eat into oblivion.
The root of the melancholy
she has occasionally known,
and surely, among bitter foe
and boon companions lost,
she has lurched painfully from it
and pained herself yet more.
Blind to the curse, she begs for more
sharpening blades to spew the red,
eager for battle yet fearful the result
she prays dark gods lend power, not gold,
as dawn awaits its inevitable relief.
The wounds of devils not false
but gods surely true
persist within the marrow
of abject, seething, mortal slaves,
and morbidly caress and torment,
and the leaves are bitter as the root.
For in realms of dark - thirst so consumes
that even the chaff born from regret,
this the black seeds do replenish;
ever deeper moans from heartache and woes
resounding echoes from piercing stabs.
The hex is feverish as its birth.
Categories:
sharpening, allegory,
Form:
Free verse
A sky of angry screeching,
demanding;
like a raptor in the wind.
Doesn't have the impact
that simple warbling brings.
With fear of cruel words spoken,
love retracts,
like claws on birds of prey;
and all I loved about you
has now flown far away.
Predatory words can rip,
into beings
lovelorn at their peak.
Not accomplishing anything but
the sharpening of the beak.
Categories:
sharpening, allegorywords,
Form:
Free verse
It's still flowing, never stopping to change direction
Cuts are made without sharpening, perfection;
Behold the pain; beholden, the bastard
This river's banks, always see the last word
The stream of water that only the ravens tend;
Panning for painful metaphors; to no end
Flowing; with all the liquidity of a snake
There's just more confusion in its wake
Why has this mortal life made no sound?
This brook beguiled; the lost and drowned
Categories:
sharpening, deep, extended metaphor, metaphor,
Form:
Rhyme
Take these shackles and give ‘em to the bear, tell her I’ve gone home
Take these shackles and throw ‘em to the wind, I’ll live like that no more
Gonna find me the weapon that can kill off Mutley, end his child like rage
Gonna find me a whet stone, sharpening my sword, gonna end his blinkered ways
I killed off Mutley
In this war inside I wage
I killed off Mutley
And it means the end of days
Come a long way from our second city, I’m a long way from home
Come a long way from our second city and I’ll go there no more
Gonna find me a crag deep in the mountains, got to mend that old dog’s ways
Gonna find a lost city deep in the desert, make sure the flee pit pays
I killed off Mutley
In the war inside I wage
I killed off Mutley
And it means the end of days
Take this message for me, carry it home, tell ‘em I am no more
Take this message for me, carry it home, tell ‘em the evils gone
I found my mountain, out in the world, it wouldn’t forgive my ways
As I soar down the valley, out of this world, I know this old dog paid
I killed off Mutley
In the war inside I wage
I killed off Mutley
And it means the end of days
Categories:
sharpening, inspirational, lifeme, war, old,
Form:
Rhyme
Never again will you send my friend a frown
you will be shot down and you won't wear the crown
I as a doctor myself am ashamed to be in your presence
as far a the destroyer she is the pure slam essence
I am just a boy with the power of millions
you can't break anyone down with your billions
you don't see that your slams are not well written
and the only thing we get is nothing far from bitten
so Doc are you ready to pay all the fines?
because in the end I write the last slam line
back up the boat
you'll never cross my moat
my archers are in place
all aimed at your face
if you need me I'll be here
sharpening my sword's steel
waiting for an actual challenge
worth the fight and the balance
get back up or walk away
but in the end, I must say:
my personal display of affliction
isn't countered by your decision
Categories:
sharpening, slamslam, slam,
Form:
Couplet
Act I
Evening. A boy offer to a girl in a balcony a white rose.
Flower among wild flowers, white flower, white rose,
Come now to the balcony and stretch your hand fair.
I shall boon you with a flower worth to be your pair:
Flower among wild flowers, white flower, white rose,
If my name do not cause you shame or a light blush,
Then give it to the four winds and offer me a trade:
Your name so I can follow the open road ahead
In the woods of ancient trees and newborn lush.
I climb to you under the crimson lover’s moon
And leave after in your lips I see a new bloom.
Even for the sun, it is hard to go in a maiden’s room,
The window’s glass does not mean to halt his strike,
Both heat and love can be gentle and scorching alike:
Even for the sun, it is hard to go in a maiden’s room.
Without a key, even the wind will remain outside,
A key with gold and silver blending also so rare
That truth and beauty merge with the same share.
Is it true? I will keep my purity and forfeit my pride.
Oh, give me a full moon night to dream and return
With another boon to make my face and heart burn.
Act II
The girl goes to the backyard of her house where we see a rose tree.
Oh, my heart wakes with such sweet melody.
I wonder if angels are dancing while hearing.
How is it possible? My heart is under custody
of three small words, my eyes are now tearing:
what do I see in the three of my youth days?
A rose is gone? And the same rose that I hold?
Now a sharpening grasp on my heart I can feel,
Why the truth was hidden, why didn’t he told
He came to steal? Better if he also tried to steal
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days?
Act III
Before the balcony. It is morning. The boy is alone. With another rose.
The girl came with a hand on her bosom,
Carrying white roses on an osier basket.
“here” ,she said and then a white cascade
Appeared and covered the young lad,
“do not stand still, why just one blossom?
Better to love as many as you can get,
Make all flowers, all white roses be mine,
And my heart will be your love’s shrine.
The boy danced under the white rain:
“Tomorrow”, he said, “I will steal again”.
Categories:
sharpening, allegory, forgiveness, love, girl,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
"The Fresh Blooding of a Sexton Grin"
Guns ...
are for p*ssies
you know, short for
pussilanimous plural
Words …
are sharper
more cutting
more lethal
clean
concise
quill slicing the lucid flow
you can taste the blood
as you turn them
twist them further in
with valour
war cry bitten
you drive them deeper in
you unsheathe love
as a hard win,
victorious, won
ink blooms
potent power from
your stellar wounds
darkened roads
shining home
lux vitae dei vox
Home ...
morning star
quod scripsi scripsi
turns the light on
to birth puissant
in the majestic
seat of third eye
commanding
the truest titulus
initials glowing
arriving on cloudy tomes
perilously igniting
new fiery caims
swallowing
ouroboros tales
hear the battle cry
you were built
to withstand the fall
to more mighty again rise
the gauntlet
now well
and truly thrown
something
more darkly formidable
than shady insult sown
sink your new teeth in
fresh biting warrior
I christen you Boadicea
blood cup possessed
razor mind in you conjuring
the tongues of hearts to speak
there is no escape
for in you, I am and
I will always live
crucifying
all the wasting yesterdays
with fresh blooded promissory notes
staking claims of assurance
in the terror firmer
here to stay
sharpening
words taken
from a stone
n'ere a flowery
verbose drip
wasted
salting
the new cuts
to feel something vital
smiling within
fresh blooding
the Sexton grin
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Come as You Are”/Nirvana
https://youtu.be/W2QeQ9ZufAk
“The Black Art”/Anne Sexton
https://allpoetry.com/The-Black-Art
“Her Kind”/Anne Sexton
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42560/her-kind
Sexton. noun
titulus. noun
Caim. noun
Sanctuary; An invisible circle of protection drawn around the body with the hand, to remind one of being safe and loved even in the darkest times.
"STRONG"
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/strong_1192970
LYRICS/"Come as You Are", Nirvana
https://genius.com/Nirvana-come-as-you-are-lyrics
Categories:
sharpening, courage, muse, strength,
Form:
Free verse
Skeletal treetops rake a Wagnerian sky.
like fingertips, chasing Valkyrie’s,
through cirrus clouds;
conducting the winter wind,
across the cerulean blue tarp
of early evening.
Bare beds, a mass of fallen leafs, shiver;
above bulbs of tulips and daffodils
which rest like skulls in a grave.
The sullen light of late December dusk,
pierces the scene with shadows,
sharpening the edges of brick walks
to bloody wayward knees
frost crusts, scabbing over the vacant
graves of long lost pets as
the day ends.
Categories:
sharpening, death, depression, seasons, daffodils,
Form:
Free verse
Spurting colors in a sunset sky,
The look of absolute wonder in the eye
As the last of the sun descends,
The lingering light tickling trembling waves
Embraces in a thrashing storm,
Nighttime sharpening the senses,
An apology accentuating sincerity,
Sighs of relief parting the lips
The sound of trust on the tongue,
The joining of hands in times of fear,
Sorrow in a child's hopeful eyes
Anger aimed to protect
Nostalgic memories relived,
Warm blankets over shivering limbs
The vast movement of the moon,
Growing light approaching fullness
2.5.2020
Note: What are your weak spots?
Categories:
sharpening, appreciation, art, creation, desire,
Form:
Romanticism