Best Sifts Poems
I am the wind
You cannot see me but you can feel me
Breezing gently through your hair
Brushing slightly across your cheek
Whispering softly 'neath your ear
I am the wind whirling,howling,roaring
blowing fiercely against the desert sand
which sifts silently in the hourglass of your soul
I will not fail you,nor leave your side
till you smell fresh rain again
and soak under cascading waterfalls
I am the wind extinguishing wild fire
which scars the lifeline of your palm
I am the wind blowing whimsically
in the honey fragrance of each meadow
where you lay beneath a half sun
I breathe my warmth where your cold fingers
gather forget-me-not petals
that fall ever so slow
with every drip drop of my fluetish tapping sound
I am the wind,I will carry you to places ,far
I'd tickle your lips with fluttering feathers
of early doves which soar above your mirthful past
I'd strip your thought bare till I touch that heart
I am the wind wafting by your pillowcase
I play within your dreams
with each seductive move
Capturing the hour of a star
I linger in the depths of all that once was dark
I pour rose- scented zephyr into your night
and We would never part,No! We'll never part
I am the wind
In dreams of yonder, wishes wistfully conceive,
A cradle of lost tomorrows, where shadows sway;
To a realm unseen, where hearts believe,
Past where twilight’s lulling lullabies lay,
A world where reverie and reality secretly play.
Through the veil of verity…
…Aisling nocturnally creates,
Mountains of moonlight, rivers of rhyme,
A world untouched by changing tides and capricious fate.
In this land, where we lose track of all time,
A place where voices harmonize; oh, so surreal, so sublime.
A city of silence, a forest of fears,
The cloud-kissed towers, an ocean of sorrow,
Beneath twilight's gentle, silent tears.
An ephemeral world free of yesterdays and tomorrow,
A dreamscape unfolding where sleep freely borrows.
A tremor runs through castle walls,
A sigh escapes the forest deep,
Twilight's tears turn into calls
Of roosters waking from their sleep.
The ocean's sorrow shimmers pale
A canvas primed for sun's first brush.
The mountains, caught in morning's veil
Dissolves to silence, whispers hush.
As a new dawn dances
the dream dissipates
The illusion shatters
reality reinstates.
For the land was an Elysium delight
A mere mirage in the moonlit night.
Dissolving in dawn's delicate dance
…like a mist in morning sacred light.
Fading Starlight sifts through leaves, painting emerald shadows on the ground.
Lost in the morning's mellowness,
a sigh escapes,
the dream departs,
unrenown…
Though dawn reclaims the waking world,
a yearning in my heart resides,
For Elysium's lost melody,
where time and sorrow gently subside.
(Paul Callus & Eileen Manassian ~ March 2020)
Where poppies grow in brilliant bursts of red
and bumble bees go searching with intent
she often goes; there sits with dreamy eyes
suspending time, quiescent moments spent.
The wind intrudes on chain of mellow thoughts;
it sifts through youthful zest deprived of guile.
With gaze serene she twirls a lock of hair
as lips betray a fleeting wistful smile.
Though far away, his presence lingers near;
his kiss like sunlight’s warmth on shoulders bare.
It seems to her, he whispers in her ear.
She breathes the fragrance of his tender care.
A sigh escapes her lips as she recalls
his body close to hers in moonlit night.
The promise that he made before goodbye
now makes her quiver with a strange delight.
For she has yet to know the fervent thrill
that overtakes the soul in love's embrace.
On his return, he’ll claim her for his own
but now each nymph of nature wears his face.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
© A Callman collaboration~ March 2020
Where poppies grow in brilliant bursts of red
and bumble bees go searching with intent,
she often goes; there sits with dreamy eyes
suspending time, quiescent moments spent.
The wind intrudes on chain of mellow thoughts;
it sifts through youthful zest deprived of guile.
With gaze serene, she twirls a lock of hair
as lips betray a fleeting wistful smile.
Though far away, his presence lingers near;
his kiss like sunlight’s warmth on shoulders bare.
It seems to her, he whispers in her ear.
She breathes the fragrance of his tender care.
A sigh escapes her lips as she recalls
his body close to hers in moonlit night.
The promise that he made before goodbye
now makes her quiver with a strange delight.
For she has yet to know the fervent thrill
that overtakes the soul in love's embrace.
On his return, he’ll claim her for his own,
but now each nymph of nature wears his face.
A Callman Collaboration
Paul Callus and Eileen Manassian
Each moonlit walk, each starlight gaze
On nights that knew such carefree days
Each whispered thrill on breezed romance
The passion of another chance
Each salted spray of ocean’s mist
On mornings blue yet to be kissed
Reminds me yet of nature’s grace
As time sifts sure like sand through lace
Oh let me sing sweet morrow’s song
While palm trees still wave to the sun
While rivers that know the secrets of life
Still course through the veins of my heart
For purpose must it always be
And must it be of such design
And is it not enough to breathe
To drink of love’s rich wine
Oh, let me know sweet morrow’s song
Again and again and again
Till every last note of the chorus is sung
And no line is yet rendered still
Often I wonder, is it worth it
Opening my eyes to blurred red numbers each morning,
broken lines of early hour countings,
as gloomed darkness peers through streaked windows
and dusty mini blinds create silent wooden horizons
Groaning, upright now on the edge of the mattress…stretching,
rubbing my face to remove the remnants of last night,
shoving aside the warmth of my faded flannel blanket,
then finding a cold floor giggling at the touch of my naked feet
I recall the dream, my last moments of sleep…weird…real feeling
Aerosmith, a souvenir stand in Wildwood and an iPad
Sketchy but still there (and I wish I were too)
Don’t ask….
I can hear my dogs grunting at the foot of bed
(Probably chasing raccoons in their heads)
What a life, eating, sleeping, no need for love (in that sense),
just a nice pat on the head every once in a while satisfies
Sometimes I guess that is all it takes, all we can hope for…
Still sitting here, yawning…thinking…
Why do I do this each day, every day, the same routine,
the deepest rut, like tire tracks in fresh mud, straight, never ending…
Then, as the tiniest glint of sunlight sifts the tenebrous room
I think of you…my happiness, my everyday purpose and it all becomes clear
Smiling now, I stand and greet this brand new beautiful day…wide awake
Often I wonder, is it worth it...and then I wonder why I wonder
Good morning Soupers
I always liked the way she played with her hair....
across from the vast expanse of the bed,
legs up, with her back against the wall,
I saw what she felt....
and she could hold me with her deep angel-eyes ----
oogle me to stare long, or leap upon her wondrous teases;
It was a time to play in some boy-girl laughing land,
some 'gentile' course devoid of the harsh of the world,
she too lovely for such petty,
too splendid with one wave, with one annointed gaze
my darker footsteps fade....
no pain to clutch in her most welcome arms ----
the world could wait....
ten thousand years,
I've longed such love more infinite with me (now soft),
she of fine recipes and finer whims to tickle the itch
in my soul,
the immediate meld of our hands,
shall need no other assurance
" I am here, always, " she breathed upon the cold steps,
winding through life crooked with doubt
.....how monolith her mist sifts sweet upon frozen winds,
and warms my sullied heart ----
that fades.....fades fast while she's amiss!
how empty this old urn without her ----
dead my able bones,
and the heart which my melancholy makes,
helpless, sick with deeper wans,
greater-goods shall not prevail this lame steed for long
Though I best remember her and smile,
and call the good of it my memory has found,
eased with her sweet-lovely ----
but too sweet for one mighty man,
and her wings swift with silken downs,
o'er the flowered hills;
she goes, this bird of gypsy will,
her flight crimson til dusk;
this dove she flew but once,
and her affections have been awhile....
the tear is long and its drip dire,
though I shall try to remember her
(and smile)
***Based on a movie I saw,(though some
of it comes from pleasant recollections(lol!)
very sad, but she returns in the end!***
Written in 2014
They are playing that song again
The one that reminds me of you
It began to rewind as I turned up the dial
from a place long ago that's been bleached for awhile
"California Dreamin" sifts through the air
like the sandalwood incense, that used to be there.
"All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey
I've been for a walk ....On a winter's day"
There's an image I've kept, still tucked within my mind
It used to fill me with envy, until it reckoned with time
You at twenty-one, wild and beautiful in a way that I could never be
Perched upon your back-porch steps, beneath the russet trees
Soaking up the morning sun, stroking your guitar
I only knew you then, as that 'hippie" type of girl
The one who lived next-door that year
Your candles shimmering, bangles glimmering
A tangle of strawberry hair, that flirted with the wind
Childlike and fair, devil-may-care, long gypsy skirts,
and a peasant look that took one's breath
The faint scent of sandalwood, swept into my yard
from your wide-opened windows, wide-opened doors,
while I was wrangling a baby on my hip
or hanging bleached-white sheets onto a clothesline
I had often wished I were you, ... flitting about, barefoot in the morning air
But, I was teaching my toddler to tie his shoes
Both of us twenty-one, ... on two sides of a cedar fence, ...
a thousand light years apart
"All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey
I've been for a walk,...on this winter's day
All the leaves are brown. Songs have come and gone
Seasons had their songs, but what became of you?"
_____________________________________________________
I am the wind
You cannot see me ,but you can feel me
breezin' gently through your hair
Brushin' slightly across your cheek
Whisperin' softly 'neath your ear
I am the wind , whirling , howling
roaring fiercely against the desert sand
which sifts silently through
the hourglass of your soul.
I will not fail you, nor leave your side
till you smell fresh rain again
and soak under cascading waterfalls.
I am the wind ,extinguishing wild fire
which scars the lifeline of your palm.
I am the wind , blowing fragrance
in the honey of each meadow
where you lay down beneath a half sun .
I breathe warmth where your cold fingers
gather forget-me -not petals, that fall ever so slow
with every drip drop of my fluetish tapping sound.
I am the wind , I will carry you to places , far...
I'd tickle your lips with fluttering feathers of early doves
that soar above your mirthful past.
I'd strip your thought bare till I touch your heart.
I am the wind wafting by your pillowcase
I play within your dreams ,with each seductive move
I capture the hour of a star.
I linger in the depths that once were dark
I pour rose-scented zephyr in the alleys of your night
Then I leave , I leave to return closer
Closer enough to let my song reveil your sight.
For Personification Contest ,sponsored by Lewis Raynes.
How hope still clings in the maze of youth,
though a vessel so tender,
not yet cured, apt to blow in the wind
as a ripened daisy,
a fledgling ----
too much a babe for a serpent's wile;
A helping hand awaits in the arms of time,
where moments pass to eternity,
the winds are hushed with reprieve,
always,
there is a friend staring to dawn
From love roars the mightiest wind,
of a warmth most enduring,
The rose sifts most sweet
in youthful shallows,
not deep of a withered old;
ere anger is bred and seasoned,
tamed to mother's ease,
The old man forgets, the harridan scoffs
while the child rides the winds
of rosy-dawns and soft remembrance,
somehow, the ancient are redeemed
Let love speak her tender tongue,
atop mountains too aloft for wicked ears,
Soothe she the weeping wayward,
the broken bone, fevers ungodly;
though she is mysterious to the ignorant,
confounds the tyrant in his self-genius ----
only God could know her name,
whispered infinite
(she is love)
** Excerpt from my epic ' The Blood of the Prophets'
(unfinished as of yet)**
Before her Auntie died she built her a big sandbox,
I remember her sitting there with long curly brown locks.
The sun in her face with an innocent smile so bright,
she’d stay out there playing morning, noon and night.
She had little tractors and buckets with tiny figurines,
she’d make sand castles then stomp on them to smithereens.
This one time she built a fort for her favorite Little People,
a huge monstrosity with a long bridge and a steeple.
She reached the age of eight and still loved her sandbox,
she used her imagination through the summer equinox.
Silly little girl with big brown eyes so enthralled,
but after Auntie died she just sat in it and bawled.
Now at tender age of ten we still keep it in the back yard,
once and awhile she sifts through the sand, but it’s quite hard.
But yesterday I saw her feet deep in the sand buried,
playing in that special sandbox lovely memories are carried.
Sandbox Contest
October 14, 2016
----I thought I had posted this a while back...guess I didn't. Oops. : ) here it is...couple years old.
When sorry words offer but sadness and pain,
When weary thought drifts into the tides of shame,
When heavy darkness fills my soul,
Freezing last embers upon the coal,
The love in my heart burns in vain
It burns in vain, for I can never quite reach
The paths that entangle, while the demons breach
It burns in vain, for I try so hard for naught
My tears in a frost-bitten muddle—construed and caught
As snowfall sifts ice onto disdain,
As afternoons crawl into midnight shade,
As every mistake has torn me apart,
This foolish soul crushed—bashed from the start
The love in my heart burns in vain
It burns in vain, for reality is but a fret
Knowing tragedy shall befall, though it comes not yet
It burns in vain, for I have hurt you still
As I try to escape the furrowing doubts that kill
So now I cringe, and cower, and remain
So caught in your sorrow as I turn away
So sorry and hateful for what I put you through
For as I falter, you are ever true
The love in our hearts burn in vain
Yet, somehow the yester-embers among the frozen coals return
Upon the frost-bitten windowpane—somehow they burn
At Once Into Blind Empty Space, At Once Into Her Arms
How can it be
Something so unwittingly described
Can break me
Remake me
Turn me to the sorriest of fates
And still fill my heart
With this happiness of late
How can she wound me so
Yet heal all the injuries I have ever known
With her existence
But alas, not her presence
Which sifts its way so tenuous
So tender through my thoughts
The merest pin prick and point of a feathers touch
Settles such a succinct telegraph of love
Nestled sleeping it was
Always in my heart
She wakes me but shakes me to wishing dreams
To disregard the alarms of early birds
And curl forever in the warmth of sleep
Where I lay always next to her
How do I survive without her
When everything I am
When everything I am is wrapped and entwined to her
Though I live and breathe
The indrawn falls upon my empty
And every expression, which defines me
Troubled and at peace inside me
Soars on every possibility of her
How can I fly so high
But still be dashed and dragged to these rocks
How do I fall so shattered
And yet still be constantly reborn
Struggling through a morass of unrequited kisses
Yet gliding free on the ripples she sends
With those same unfelt and untested lips
Parted so, yet her spirit prevails
I feel the wish of her lashes softly closing her eyes
The sliding soft comfort of her embrace
As she takes and holds my empty hand
And all the caution in the world
All the alarm of early morning birds
Cannot halt my rushing head long
At once into blind empty space, at once into her arms
How did I have a heart
Without you
What life was there
Where soul
My love
Who was I
Without you
And though I live and breathe
I expel each breath on the empty
But every expression which defines me
Is bursting with firework delivery
Colours in the night so laughing
With the unknown embrace of how you love me
And how I so desperately love you in return
( My friends
The soft and compliant daggers of love
I know you know so well
Sharp cuttings of tears
And the ever expectant solace of their smiles )
"Though passing through sad and sombre times, let us be gladdened by the joy and peace Xmas brings"- by Poet
She felt the kicks, this time more intense
A mother’s primal instinct told her thus;
‘Can travel no further, need a place
To rest and ease your birth throes’
Mary and Joseph at last spotted a manger.
Temporarily secured from imminent danger
Sheltered from the gaze of the ruminating herd,
She delivered the babe when darkness still hovered
There lay on the hay, baby Jesus haloed in glory
The one who came to script a new story
Singing with cymbals on that wintry night
His birth was announced by angels bright
“Glory to God on high and peace on earth”
Its intonations creating rising waves of mirth
The shepherds, getting that message divine,
Came in hordes to behold the face benign
They knelt down and worshipped the King of kings
While seraphs hovered around on petite angel wings
On every Xmas, His nativity is duly remembered
And in all corners of the world it is joyously celebrated
On that night the star spangled sky glowed radiant
Sending out a light- luminous and lambent
All was bright and calm that serene night
A rare tranquillity drowning every nook in delight
Waving a magic wand, he has come to reign
To liberate mankind from the bondage of sin
Across the noise and strife of today’s weary world
A festive scene of celestial joy is unfurled
The peace of Xmas, as it sifts through the air
Fills each and every heart with overwhelming cheer
Placed First in the contest
Nov. 28, 2021
“X” Contest, New or Old Poetry
Sponsor – Constance La France
(Dedication: For my PoetrySoup friend Skat A.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meet sanguine cheer in easy strains,
Yield to sure ease when things turn sad.
Ink passage here in sun and rain,
Note a deep peace that sifts thoughts bad;
Voice in sure time a finesse bold,
Explore the range of all things good;
Sense healing rhymes that now unfold,
Touch sure and strange to feel each mood.
See with fond gaze the poignant face,
Hurl happy fare that bring new fill;
Observe the maze where work fills space,
Purge useless cares and seize bold thrills;
Ply a fond need to flesh clear dreams,
Etch all you feed in wonder's theme.
Leon Enriquez
10 January 2016
Singapore