Best Shuddering Poems
“The silent song of the sighing breeze,”
In leafless demeanor of shuddering trees,
Whispered cries of a dismantled dream
Augmenting dissonance of broken theme,
A theme composed in the promise of yore
Avowing endearing passions evermore,
Of love eternal, enamoring core of soul,
Till its amorous glory, fate savagely stole.
Though zephyrs forlorn, still cruelly blow,
Wailing lovelorn woe of forgotten throe,
Despair is vanquished from song of sorrow,
For hymns of bliss sing of hopeful morro.
Pledges of today, foretell future of ardour,
Vying dreamscapes, musings-ecstatic adore,
Buoying tides of love to tomorrow’s shore,
Abandoning yesteryears memories abhor;
Of pensive sighs, spent-emotions decry,
Of dejection lamenting love gone awry,
Of nightmares trembling sleepless night,
Of allegories wistful, destiny’s hands write.
“The silent song of the sighing breeze,”
Now sings of love, from flowering trees,
Whispering melodies to a dulcet dream
Augmenting allure of lovesome theme.
Line #1
Sculpting tinges periwinkle, eventide paints on arc of ruby skies,
Sunset dreams of freezing eve, longing warmth of moonrise;
As realms gelid waltz, where light-beams with shadows dance,
Shuddering boughs, quivering vistas, swaying barren expanse.
Prairies frozen glimmer, resplendence of pristine falling snow,
Where decaying colors of fall, in remnants of autumn glow,
When twinkling cosmic rivers, on tapestries of Milky-Way flow,
As frosty moonlight glistens knolls, of shivering terrains aglow.
Quietude dwells in grip of winter, where lakes and rivers froze,
Where beauty shines reflecting light, gleaming blustery woes,
Of shorter days, of time glazed, mellowed in golden sunshine,
Ceding to lingering nights, glinting in glamor of heavens divine.
Verdant prairies, lush foothills,
Yellow tulips, golden daffodils,
Waltzing with magnolia’s zeal
Flamboyant in spring’s appeal.
Thundering showers, mirthful bees,
Burbling rivers, roaring seas,
Birds chirping, roaming carefree,
Buoyant, reveling summer’s glee.
Autumn paints crimson themes
Dyeing leaves, charming dreams,
Swaying vistas, iridescent trees,
Whirling frolicking amber breeze.
Shuddering boughs, winds blow,
Scattering delicate falling snow,
Shivering knolls, terrains aglow,
Glistening twilight’s wintry glow.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree—
A belle crooning nature’s glee,
Splendorous as seasons’ glory.
A ballad of resplendent spring
In stanzas cherry-blossom pink
Uplifting moods of lovers
Lost in heart-shaped leaves
Fluttering soft lavender breeze
Arousing romantic appeal
In fuchsia hues of redbud trees.
A verse of feisty summer winds
Swaying beats of majestic oak
Rustling big-leaf maple trees
Hosting dance of perky sparrows
Choreographing mating tempo--
Magnolia’s white blooms evoke.
A lyric of autumn’s aspirations
Scripting chorus in blazing colors,
Red, orange, purple, yellow,
On maple, hickory, birch, sycamore,
Strumming strings of alluring refrains--
Rhythms waltzing fervid meadows.
A cadent song of winter’s chill
Shuddering vibes of barren trees
Yet, charmingly pretty as can be
When snowflakes gently falling
Invoke tunes of season’s greetings
Crowning tips of ornamental twigs
As hearts’ melodies merrily sing.
February 7, 2020
Placed 1st: Famous poetic lines 2 poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
“I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree” by Joyce Kilmer
HM: Strand select H contest by Brian Strand
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Four centuries stacked like stones,
each year a weight
on the chest of heaven.
Prophets became ash in the wind,
their embers cold,
their parchments brittle.
Then~
not in the temple
where men strained to hear,
not in the desert
where fire once spoke,
but in a backwater hovel,
where livestock chewed their cud.
A gasp.
A shudder.
A mother’s blood on the earth.
And then~
sound.
Not the trumpet blast of Sinai,
not the whirlwind that answered Job,
but the thin, wet wail of newborn lungs,
puncturing the quiet like a knife
through paper.
Omniscience, wrapped in rags,
drew its first shuddering breath.
The angels,
who had bitten their tongues
for four hundred years,
could not contain themselves~
They split the sky with song,
startling shepherds
outside Bethlehem’s gates.
The first cry was a declaration:
Here.
The last would be an absolution:
Done.
Between them~
thirty-three years of footsteps,
of splinters, of bread broken,
of a voice that refused
to go quiet again.
When they tried to silence Him
with nails, with thorns,
the earth itself cracked open
and roared No~
because eternity,
once loosed,
does not return to the tomb.
written on time’s page
with finite syllables of dust
he spelled my heritage
from earth to sky
along an umbilical line of faith
we fluttered from the lips of fingers
fully form for purpose
written on an invisible calculus
that bring monarchs where birth mark lingers
and salmons somersaulting sluice and streams
turtles, penguins, and herons white wings
netted in design with nested tabula rasa mind
I have an argument
against the beginning begotten from a bang
before atom or element
I have an argument against force and natural laws
at work without mass or embodiment
for embryonic gravity or forces weak or strong
I have an argument
that the singularity could not become more than fragment
of energy again if a single atom explode
its forces flocking away from fusion
for energy fission to explode
a theory
flimsy as spiders web
dethroning my majesty gulped
in primeval slime unlinked history from love
minimizing the particular time of our becoming on ships
that met the stagnant eyes of swampy thoughts … shuddering
in vain
the whip cracks louder than pain -
and on our black blistered backs … crumbling
soils in desertification threw some syllables skywards for mercy
starvation winds with sickle clouds of rain
they lie again ... leaving us without inheritance
for all our labors, lost, and grievance
what bang can buck the strain
and bring us broken souls to glory again?
(after the painting by Vincent Van Gogh)
Does she even exist? Doubting her own reality,
seeing herself vanishing in undulating undergrowth,
fading and merging into summer-scorched scenery.
But cold lurks there beneath shafts of sunlight, the phallic trees...
He wears the night underneath, a fabric of dark and unease,
his hand heavy upon her arm, silver-tongued charm
smooth as the silver-limbed leafless trees,
disappearing, now, on a twisting breeze...
Sinuous stems suffocate, writhing and thrashing;
convulsions of shuddering green and yellow.
Enticed ever deeper into flailing flowers,
evanescing into foam of frothing flora...
Did she ever truly exist? It's doubtful.
The flower-frail faceless and nameless
will always be lured and laid, invisible,
dissolving, under bare, phallic trees.
Vision, a window divine, open wide to aspirations of heart,
A lens paramount, for perusing aesthetics of beauty and art;
A sight beaming imagination, on ambitions of curious soul,
A focus coherent, shaping impulses, passions studious cajole.
A medium of communication, an engaging lure of romance,
An infatuated response, a jubilant hint of enamored glance,
Blossoming in language of love, without utterance of word,
Extolling meaning amorous, that desires romantic spurred.
Perceptive of worldview, on mission to observe and learn,
A journey into the unknown, yearning curiously to discern,
Vision quests for knowledge, aiming to be literate, well read,
Vision peers into future, navigating life’s road maps ahead.
It thrills watching a baby smile, elates in celebration of life,
Saddens when mind summons anguish of grief and strife;
Dejecting violent places, thoughts kindred deeply deplore,
Preferring banks of avid shores, dreams endearing implore.
Vision captures images of life, ruminating in joys and sighs,
Rejoicing in blissful memories, or tearing-up its forlorn eyes;
Reveling in exuberant prairies, vying for flowering springs,
Or shuddering amid barren trees, bearing angst winter brings.
Her sad eyes and tear stained face evoked such ambivalent feelings;
I could barely stand to look upon the half-naked child in front of me.
She turned her face toward me with a pained look begging for help.
Maternal feelings welled up within for this pitiful tangled haired waif.
Gaping in abject horror, I observed the orphan's frail arms wrapped
tenaciously around a dead rat and held close to her dirt smeared body.
I sensed this sewer 'pet rat' had been her only source of comfort in life.
The one thing she turned to, when sad or hungry, would never again be.
While resisting the urge to gather her up in my arms and dry her tears,
still I desired to sympathize... whispering, "Don't cry honey, it'll be OK".
I lied, knowing it wouldn't. Besides what could I do with so little to give.
I turned and walked away not wanting to face my growing sense of lack.
I awoke with a start, shuddering, deeply disturbed and troubled to tears.
Sometimes the vivid images, like a horror movie returning to haunt me,
make me question, "Who is that wretched child so forlorn and dejected?
The memories shake my very soul, the hidden message still eluding me.
Sunscreen could not save our skin,
as dressed in skimpy swimsuits,
we splished and splashed that afternoon,
so happily slapping the water of the sun-kissed glistening sea,
splattering each other with its salty taste.
Afterward, we swam out into the swell of its waves,
surrendering ourselves to the surges
of the smaller and less dangerous waves,
letting ourselves be totally submerged and tossed like shells,
then swept swiftly back to shore.
Later, we drifted out to the deep,
and then shuddering as the temperature dipped,
we swam to the safety of the beach.
Skipping back to the warmth of sand,
we toweled off and sat, satiated with contentment
to watch sun setting in a sky of cerulean and splendid rose.
Drenched with much peacefulness,
we watched sun sink lower and lower
at the edge of the shore -
at the edge of that summer
and at the edge of a childhood
we could not know then
was coming to
its end.
April 5, 2019 for Edward Ebeh's Pick A Title, Vol.3 Alliteration Poetry Contest
Darkness uttermost
Howl gobblins, gooks, grinch and ghost
Dripping touch of night
Blood like curdled light
Candle tears, white serpents hiss
Shadowing the mist
Hell has broken free
Behind the masked jubilee
Of death's silent screams
Rats, pumpkins, dead dreams
In dried fairytales of leaves
Mark, our prank deceives
The shuddering knife
Not again, jack ripped his heart
With pale piper's fife.
Not heaven nor art
The cold merriment, a wheeze
Of dark wintry breeze.
A pursuer at an precocious age,
Instantly able to set the stage.
Unaware of the glare from a piercing stare,
Calculated thoughts and moments planned; the prey would be snared.
Indulging in oratory flights of beautiful language,
Enticed by a venomous tongue the prey languished.
Striking the first note of genuine eloquence,
The Huntress pillaged without rendering an element of forbearance.
The impending execution of the venom ignited an explosion,
That there was an instant expulsion.
From the impending death,
The prey took a long deep breath.
The craving of the Huntress had grown,
The prey subsided with a shuddering moan.
Towered by the Huntress’s shadowing eclipse,
Impetuous feeling the softness of her kiss.
@ Tunisia Torres
2/3/2009
A QUEST TOUCHED BY HEAVEN
Treading towards an immortal search
a mortal soul stood begins the quest.
Crossing deep sea and burning desert sand
down the wild and civilized land,
soul driven by zest will so grand.
Right and left battle: a door to growth and anguish
Life still wriggles for habitable breath hiss
Shuddering fears may impregnate decline
staggering, falling, hurting but LIVING!
Teardrops shed a lance or rose to the heart.
Prayers a rumble to steps roaring zeal
rave gaits thud though imperfect
Your lit of melodious merciful grace
presages treasure drafts of redemption.
Breakages had caused falls bending spirits
yet, these also caused cries of feverish hopes
frightened but with Your heavenly touch
Am a mortal but siren-like singing hymns of salvation.
In the ocean expanse of gloomy sky,
my heart -a white pigeon craving to fly high.
I strive to reach outstretch stars
Sprouting lovelier even when rain arrives.
Singing my lifesong with side-sways,
enjoying God's gift of life today.
(c)Olive Eloisa
1:41pm
September 18, 2014
Inspired by:
Psalm 147:11
the LORD delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love
Sponsor Justin Bordner
Contest Name Divine Intervention
2nd place.. :) to God be the glory..
I ask Freya of the cool blue North
To be my special Magic Goddess
Naked in Her clicking high heels
Freya, my new fantasy friend
At my side when adventures go forth
She's posing in Her skin for me
At the edge of the mystic trees
Twisting, bending, showing me
I can have Her, if I can catch Her,
If I love Her, what a tease
She's teaching me Her style of charm
To conjure Her in dreams awaking
Glamouring love spasm calling Her name
Goddess of Love and shuddering Sex
Clenching my fingers in Her golden mane
Freya my partner in dark sex adored
Feral Freya with paralyzing eyes
Ancient primal Sacred Whore
Gliding around me in blazing form
Goddess of Love and Death and War
Magic Shape Shifter, Valkyrie Queen
Who could ask for a cooler Girlfriend?
We went shopping for shoes today
For clicky high-heels that firm up Her rear end
Then hit the sidewalk to stun the old men
Long-legged Freya, my Goddess Girlfriend
Jan caught a jet plane to New York
Where bacon does not come from pork
To end her trip
Jan let one rip
The Captain delivered a stork
Jan's flight was Economy grade
Stuck between an old man and old maid
In the middle row
Which way should she blow?
"Hey! I've got a new hearing aid!"
Hot air will rise up to the Heaven
Where degrees are numbered to seven
But Jan's chocolate farts
Broke all of the charts
And bounced back to suffocate Devon
Donald Trump and May made a pact
To abolish the Clean Air Act
For with Jan on the loose
Even Trump could deduce
Air stinks as a matter of fact
Jan could hear the wind in the willows
And lay down her head on the pillows
But one gust of wind
Would quickly transcend
Her sheets into shuddering billows.
So Jan wanted to go back home
But her agent booked her to Nome
The crews final task:
"Get oxygen mask"
Jan's luggage was blasted to Rome
Jan thought that she needed a rest
So she flew off to Budapest
She let off a few
For Captain and crew
Now she oompahs Oktoberfest