Best Sheathing Poems
Flickering in the night, a melting’s texture of regrets afterglow,
Candlelight’s waxed drippings staining the white laced table cloth,
Yet in the black and white photo album of the timeless, it is a
Pressed flower of remembrance, never to be forgotten,
In the days of wine and roses.
As champion kisses are exchanged between the
Youthful hearts of the innocent, another cork
Is popped, in this cozy interlude of memory’s repast,
Shattered lies this tempered fragile glass, smashed
Against the fireplaces inner mantel, leaving a frothy
Foams liquid behind, causing the crackles embers to
Burn higher with passions flame,
In the days of wine and roses.
Hand cut floral arrangements, plucked apart
Then tossed asunder, a petals trail to silken sheets
Of pleasure, sorrow’s bedding is lined with feathers
Down, angel wings tender sheathing to protect the
Wounded child of innocence, curled inside perfection’s
Illusionary dream, evolving into a flowering silhouette of
Womanhood.
In shad’s refection of repose, she weeps thus diamond
Tears that float away amongst the Lilley thorns, within the
Rippling pool of the timeless,
Oh those were the farewells for-get-me-knots,
To those days of wine and roses.
Valentines shaped boxes shredded into confections confetti,
Thrown into the air of clarity at the ticker tape parade
Of the broken heartbeat, as it explodes into a zillion pieces,
Tissues spent candy wrappers used to wipe away, moistures
Sorrows of regrets folly, thus the tender reed bends into
The winds of emotion,
Behold the tokens price of loves devotion,
Back in the days of wine and roses.
Vintage bouquets of elegance, tarnished with age,
Yet still retaining lusters shine of everlasting beauty,
The faithful clinging to the shadows of the past,
Hopes dreaming romantic, waltzing in rheum with
Memories of illusion, showered by petals of color,
From those days of wine and roses.
Flickering in the night, a melting’s texture of regrets afterglow,
Candlelight’s waxed drippings staining the white laced table cloth,
Yet in the black and white photo album of the timeless, it is a
Pressed flower of remembrance, never to be forgotten,
In the days of wine and roses.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUN
I grew up in rows of houses ending in graveyards,
where six feet of dirt covered
the mound of my existence
and failure arched every single doorway.
Depression draped the windows
with patterns stitched
by poverty’s unapologetic hand.
The futility of language lacing its voice
with abject grief and guilt;
Expression left to moan its desperation,
yet unable to communicate its plea.
While eyes lost the blue of horizons and hope--
blindness welcomed
as agony’s twisted comic relief.
Emptiness has a way of filling up
and spilling over, consuming;
Until all that remains is a chronicle of life
lived too painfully in reverse,
and the screaming sheathing of despair
mummifying the entombed...
I was a musketeer
Fighting to save a dying land
Soldier with a heart
Hate never disappeared
As greed and waste were in command
Tearing it apart
Armed with a sword of words
Choosing my battles, carefully
Fighting against the odds
Futility's absurd
Sheathing my sword only to flee
Left it up to God
I became a wanderer
Searching for peace, looking here and there
If only peace of mind
A lifelong ponderer
Not understanding lack of care
The world is so unkind
In a state of disbelief
That people live so unconcerned
Turning treasure, into trash
Our time's so brief
Apparently, we'll never learn
Hell burns hot with cash
I was a troubadour
Sang songs of happiness and pain
Accompanied by the wind
But mostly went ignored
As the masses rode their gravy train
On tracks of vain pretend
Hitching from town to town
No lust for pockets filled with gold
Simply moving on
Fall leaves are turning brown
My days grow short and nights are cold
Summer all but gone
I'm a weary traveler
My life spent in a time machine
Powered by the sun
A map unraveler
And every road a different dream
Sleeping on the run
Sometimes the sky would gray
I danced around the lightning strikes
No time to take a rest
Shelter would come my way
Takin' in by ladies of the night
Ease my loneliness
But I can not sleep
original song lyrics by the "Poemdog" Daniel Turner
The snake coils in the sun,
spectacles sheathing her eyes,
trunk warming against the earth.
They say she feels nothing,
only the hiss of hunger,
the strike of instinct.
But watch—
how she lingers where the light is softest,
how she curves herself into the shape of what she trusts,
how she returns, again, to nest in the mesquite.
The crow does not speak in ways we understand,
only leaves the glint of something small,
a silver coin at your feet.
He waits on the wire,
head tilted,
as if listening for an answer most cannot hear.
The oak does not hold,
but their roots tangle deep with another’s,
sharing water in the dark—
sharing nerves—
sharing networks.
Even the river does not let the stone go—
not yet.
Perhaps Love is beyond what we define it—
something older, quieter…the
macrocosmic marrow of all things—
a pull, a return, a reaching toward.
From dark walls springs
Ball of fire,illuminating
The deeper parts to
uttermost parts.
Like the rising sun, re-
kindles hope.
Radiates afar off-from
the heart's horizon.
A wellspring from a brook-
the soul nourishes.
Sheathing sword of aging
Unravels secrets of
longetivity.
The elixir of life,dew
that quenches thirsty
souls.
A magnetic and
contagious force repelling
sadness from despaired
minds.
Can't be bought,bribed
or stolen.
If you need the elixir of
life,learn from MONALISA!
Cassius Clay
A heavy Weight Champion
Who punched his way
Through barriers of colour
With blows of a kind Heart...
He floated like a Butterfly
Yet, stung like a Bee
A Heavy Weight Champion
With a light weight Heart!
Epitome of bonhomie
Who tamed his angry Soul
By the Light of Faith
Re-directing throe
With fury to his Foe.
Despite adversity of Birth
Trained to taper his temper
Sheathing hard-knock fist-
Boxer of amity and Love-
Inside a comfy glove!
*
Boxing is a recondite bodily Art
From the soft side of man’s Heart!
When he pours his sturdy arm
I perceive Art and not harm...
Floating quick and so ethereal
Dexterity invokes scenes surreal!
When Foe hits the canvas at last
Shall he forever be an outcast?
Victor must stand up and muse:
“For One to Win, One must lose
“Ignore then face turned blue
“For I must celebrate with you
“You fell down as my boxing Foe
“Rise up a Friend for a cup of joe!
“You’ve lost in the boxing ring
“You won being my Friend my King!”
*
Honoured be they that can compete
Our mirth they do totally replete,
A symbol of sacrifice holy and pure
As Pain and patience they do endure!
The World is now just one Village
Meant for amity and not for pillage
Sports direct how we affably relate
By accord not by how we dictate!
Fight the World, fight with the mind
Sheath your blows protect the rind
The World needs Love’s agile blows
Blows of Faith Cassius best knows!
*
Fight with facts, fight with vim
Fight the Devil with solemn hymn
Don’t fight with greed or fight with whim
But fill the Cup to the brim!
*
Endure the sting
and earn your honey
Endure the blow
to earn your money
Like a butterfly flow,
like a Bee do sting
Like a butterfly flow,
like a Bee do sting!
Cassius Clay
Man O’ th’ Day!
*Dedicated to those who fight with Peace and for Peace. The World is a Village and we’re Family!
JM
17th Oct’ 2013
Leaking sides of a filth I abandoned
Sheathing myself to my fortress garrisoned
Waste snaking through what's left of my good will
On and off I rode away from the wasteland off the distant hill
Encountering the ghosts of the past whispers
Devouring my thoughts my head dazed in whimper
A shield broken a sword untamed
Halos smothered and bloody fingers to blame
Hurricanes swept the grasslands clean
Storms stripping the seas of rough and lean
Waves hurrying to escape the fury of the dark night sky
To whom it may be, the ones screaming to die
Blazing fires putting ashes to the ground
The traces of disaster slaving the uncrowned
Shadows of the graves greeted the living with open arms
The cries of fear echoed the heavens with crimson scars
To whom will you run? To whom will you plead?
When the sky burns red and the kings turn to flee
To whom will it matter, whether you live to see another day
To whom will it stain, the end of a million hearts beating astray
Hail of ember melts away your eyes and ears
Your fate manifests the monster you've dreaded and feared
Glory will claw the spines of lands filled with the martyrs' blood
No escaping the howls of an outcast howling through the moonless flood
The withering final moments, savoring the jolly stride
Rode the sheathing swords that flew the banners of pride
Gliding on skulls of their fallen ones
Swore to retake the Empire of the Rising Sun
I closed my eyes for just a few moments to take a nap.
I was dreaming about my purrty lil' feline friend, Rose.
My sleep was disturbed by a gentle tap tap tap tap tap.
What are these flighty little things landing on my nose?
I was dreaming about my purrty lil' feline friend, Rose.
She's beautiful when she flutters her flirty green eyes.
What are these flighty little things landing on my nose?
I wish Rose was here with me to see the blue butterflies.
She's beautiful when she flutters her flirty green eyes.
Playful are these creatures I am teasing with my paws.
I wish Rose was here with me to see the blue butterflies.
We'd be very careful with them by sheathing our claws.
Playful are these creatures I am teasing with my paws.
I wish Rose and I could fly around in circles like they do.
We'd be very careful with them by sheathing our claws.
If I dream I have blue wings, my dream might come true.
I wish Rose and I could fly around in circles like they do.
My sleep was disturbed by a gentle tap tap tap tap tap.
If I dream I have blue wings, my dream might come true.
I closed my eyes for just a few moments to take a nap.
^. .^ ^. .^ ^. .^ ^. .^ ^. .^
2.18.16 Kitten and Butterflies Contest
She stares
open eyes, lost
white tombstone, motionless
she who loved to smile
inert she sits, sheathing her teeth
Feelings
match boxes
in a sea of sombre paper butterflies
on and under the bed
ironed, waiting
to leave again, some glorious day
She sits
a leg folded beneath her, haggard
his head on her lap
life trickling down a corner of his mouth
she rocks him
She sits and stares
blinded by loss
nothing will tear her from him
and nothing will move her anymore
Longing looks or
furtive glances,
shuffling steps
or pony prances
Sheathing swords
and crossing lances
choices, actions
partners, dances
Living, loving
true romances,
fate and chance
or circumstances
Of these three: faith, hope and love- let love reign.
And faith, as essential as one's breathing;
Hope must be second, for a higher plane.
When suffering and heartache stir the pain
And disappointments pierce us like teething;
Of these three: faith, hope and love- let love reign.
The wiser soul despises old refrains,
Focused only on heaven’s high wreathing
Hope must be second, for a higher plane.
The devil spins his lies for sordid gains
God gives His children a three-fold sheathing.
Of these three: faith, hope and love- let love reign.
Abide in heaven’s mercies and His Name
And discover grace and trials easing.
Hope must be second, for a higher plane.
Great aspirations flow through seeker’s veins,
Unimagined heights and glory seizing-
Of these three: faith, hope and love- let love reign.
Hope must be second, for a higher plane.
With its silvery veil the moon's pallid sheen
Spectrally cloaks and invests all the homes
Transformed into midnight mausoleums
While those who sleep within can never be seen
As cold as the tomb
As miserable as a morgue
As silent as the grave
As the sheathing of a sword.
The dark shades of night unfold
Where they lie deep shrouded in their beds
Dreams dance lively in their heads
While they look like bodies cold.
Closed to all are the eyes of their resting places
Blinded to outside view
Wrapped in night's dark blue
But within their still frames R.E.M races
Outside in the gloom wreathed like hearses
Stand their silent polished cars in rows
In preparation for sadder blows
When funereal will be the verses.
.
Yesss
there she stood
Flamming
In the Vernal
hern vernal
Blond tresses
competing with the sun
Diaphanous cerulean sheath
sheathing
(not)
hern pink sheath
Bulbous
Beaming
Glabrous
glimmering
as the azure sheath
drip
drip
drip
drip
Kneeling in prayer, the King folded his hands
His assassination thusly prevented
Times were different then, devotion honored
~ Stabs in the back were frowned on
What Hamlet simply could not bear to do
Today (that) would feel refreshing and new
Not taking advantage of his arch-foe
~ Sheathing his dagger, away he tiptoed
Another snowy day which will become a snowy night
No socks on my feet
My boots are wet
I have raw, red blisters.
Go into a McDonald's
And sit in a corner.
Lift my wet feet out of wet boots
And rest them on the cold tiles, lightly.
On the wall there is a framed picture of Ronald McDonald
A teardrop frozen upon his face
The way the white powdered skin of his lips is sheathed tight
Beneath a red painted frown
Looks like skin sheathing a swollen *****
Bellevue psychiatric hospital staff wheel me around
In a quaint wooden wheelchair
And listen to me tell them about the cat I have to feed
The rent I have to pay
My endless retreat
Then release me back to the streets
With dried boots and dried feet.