Best Silvering Poems
Mirror mirror on the wall
I went to the beauty salon today
Silver strands ~ gone
Long dark wavy hair ~ beautiful
Bet you're jealous ~ ha
Twirling away and singing "because I'm happy" by Pharrell Williams
Six weeks later...
Mirror mirror on the wall
If you keep showing those silver strands
I'm going to give you some cracks
Bet you won't like that
Walking away mumbling how people are talking to her but their eyes upon her head
Days later...
Mirror mirror on the wall
What is the meaning of this
Each day I'm seeing more glitters spreading
I'm plucking them out but they seems to keep surfacing
"Sighing" knowing full well
She'll never beat this medallic battle
Weeks later...
Mirror mirror on the wall
I've come to realize these silver strands are the enhancing highlights of my life
For every silver strand had its own enchanting story
So color me away
They say she's too young to go silvering
Maybe they're right
Today...
Mirror mirror on the wall
Keep calm
And go authentically silverlicious
My hair
My beauty
My silver strands
Smile
Akkina R Downing
1-5-18
Hope lingers in the fold of Angel wings
Symbol, here on Earth, of all things gentle hearted
You carry us when all in life is darkening
You steady us and guide our feet from faltering
Although we’re often sad and leaden hearted
Hope lingers in the fold of Angel wings
With promising, and carrying and cautioning
Within our dreams inspired, single hearted
you carry us when all in life is darkening
Miracles return with wise envisaging
For never once will you be found false hearted
Hope lingers in the fold of Angel wings
Our spirits feel a flowering and a freshening
No longer sad and feeling quite light hearted
You carry us when all in life is darkening
As around the dark clouds now, a glow is silvering
No shadows loom and no more, marble hearted
Hope lingers in the fold of Angel wings
You carry us when all in life is darkening
Suzanne Delaney
A lighthouse blinked deep in the shadows' gray
a fog-horn bordered at the distanced lines,
few stars were scattering above the bay
and scintillating mirrored in my eyes;
- my eyes were focusing upon the brines,
two forms outlined inside the nightly coals
and danced our waltz above the waves and shoals.
Betrothal blossoming of western winds
that blow the cumulus across the quay,
melds with the rising mist, the moon rescinds,
and fades in deepnesses of the dark sea;
beyond the shores the tidings brought to me,
the moonlight drenched in silver waves of flame,
and thenceforth heard his heart, and felt his claim.
I breathed his lonesome air, my soul's accord,
o mother of caressing waves' soft voice,
embraced I was, the silvering award
became my terminal, demanding choice;
inside the crystal night I felt rejoice ,
and in my tiny hands run his reply,
my destiny, the sea, and silent cry.
..
5/6/2014.© Giorgio Veneto, Gautami Phookan. All rights reserved
.
I spend time with a friend
well, a pseudo-friend
an acquaintance of sorts
no, I guess he'd be a friend,
****, who knows
one of those types you never really share your heart
that authentic trembling you
I guess
he's more like a radio station
on a long lonely road trip in the night
or late night cable when the kids have left
a thousand channels
bright flickering nothing
we meet after hours in the deepest of dives
I just sit, listen,
curl myself into that hunching shape
looking like someone piled old laundry on a stool
and act as chaperone
an escort of sorts, you know, like those fresh faced kids in college
earning some bucks walking lifesize cartoons around for pictures
and with a bar top slap, I know he's got one, he's revved up
a steampunk machine running on old rye and spasms
"know this! I have faith in our sacred family values, our brave military and our cellular plans!"
(it's hard to not chuckle a bit, enjoy the aerating effect a good laugh does to spirits and your pallet, just avoid aspirating too much or you bellow and cough like an amateur drinker, good god don't show weakness in a place like this or the crows will circle and I swear the shadows lengthen under the bar)
most times, as I sit next to him, removed from his sphere
detached observer that I always find myself
I notice he talks to that small sliver of himself seen between the dirty glasses
piled up against the old mirror with faded silvering
and the blackened spots frame his face
like an old time picture
representing a vast loneliness of a nation
this goddamn solitude we find in crowded rooms
"My opponent here is working with Chilean miners, violent video game makers and angry chefs, goddammit"
once curse words are added, we'll be on our way soon
the barkeep's tips weren't that big
and the mutterings from the corners are beginning
as his outbursts begin to chisel into the hazy bubbles of regulars
I pull him out into the night
away from cheap wine and leaded glass
red faced, blustering,
cool air confusing him for a moment
and, lightswitched, he walks with a purpose,
back to the maindrag and streetlights,
calling it a night with a wave and one last holler:
"I want an America where Somali pirates and Rupert Murdoch yes-men cannot corrupt our precious environment!"
I just stand and wave back.
His hair is alive,
serpents writhing, a man Medusa of the tropics,
as if he wore the demons
of colonialism and injustice on his head,
unforgetting,
a dung-brown-and-black hologram of
the ganja-fueled reveries inside,
the broken record of fight and redemption in his ears
masked by an ancient face, all taut leather,
placid with a sheen of absorbed light.
Bloodshot eyes, not insomniac,
but from the weight of things that, once seen,
cannot be unseen,
scleras color-coding history,
the blood of dead slaves on white.
Yet the heat-chilled island calls a daily truce.
In the shade of the commodious palm tree,
the bleach of sun cordoned by a shower of shadows,
even the gluttony of Babylon
and the promise of Zion can share a siesta.
Looking out to the silvering sea beyond the beach,
exchanging a patois-scented greeting
with two passing brethren whose hair hang like roots,
he puts fire to a fat, white-jacketed spliff,
herb smoke curling up,
rising,
rising,
a slow exodus up into the dusty fronds above,
hung with the fruits
of a tender mantra as,
ever,
the spirit of Marley
sings.
Jack Frost tonight goes on the prowl,
As winters gloom now frosted scowl.
Cold snaps those fingers, when Jack brings,
Kisses on cheeks with frost-bitten stings.
Frozen bones and an ice cold nose
Raw winds bring snow, that's when Jack shows
On frozen panes he carves his name.
Silvering trees, brings our wild acclaim.
Tomorrow get ready, it's much the same.
12/ 2/ 2015.
Natural Curiosity
Do you wonder about the me on my inside
As you gaze at the me on my outside,
A counterpoint to those around us?
What expectations do you hold, in keeping with my
Wrinkled brow and silvering hair that I turn
Out not to meet…or fulfill to every degree?
Do I surprise you, amuse you, even amaze you,
Or am I perplexing, dismaying, disappointing, an
Enigma to be observed, but never admitted into your life?
What affronts do I cause you when your youthful
World collides with mine and I do not seem
To keep my proper station or decorum of maturity?
Do you speculate on what my eyes see, as
I look back at you, sometimes with affection,
Sometimes despair, perplexity or amused delight?
What understanding and insight do you have of the
Me inside that sees as you see, forgetful of
Myself and all my foibles and marvellous imaginings?
Do you imagine how I might feel and what
I might think when I look back at you, myself
Wondering the same about you?
Mutatis mutandis, I think and speculate as above,
And wonder whether we do live in different
Worlds, or are we really just the same.
When earths abundant harvest, nature displays.
Then farmers will face, ever shortening days.
As wet days of summer, change to shivering chills.
Swirling light snow, veils those far distant hills.
With white hoar frost silvering, autumns dead leaves.
And long icy fingers,crystallizing on eaves.
9/ 24/ 2015.
BLACK LACE AND BLUEBELLS
The lilt of floral summer
found me waiting
against a woodland tree,
in the early evening sun,
accompanied by birdsong,
recalling you.
Idling on grass
sprinkled with bluebells
and fairies' laughter,
you kiss the wine from my lips
and tug a blossom from my hair,
releasing me to fly.
We are the only two who exist
in this slice of the world.
Separated only by black lace
and animal heat,
which is no separation at all.
Pulling bits of earth loose
we mask the musk of our rut
with loam,
fecund and sweet,
just as you are.
A gamble for ecstasy
in a nameless game
older than the trees
which shade us,
we both shiver in an autumnal moment,
the silvering of this instant
the winning stroke.
You hold me as a I clasp you,
watching me with those magical eyes,
silencing my climax
with cloud-soft kisses
that steal my essence
in exchange for bliss.
Our wild, woodland moment
will live inside of me
as long as bluebells
dance across meadows.
You
You are my moon by night: silvering my dreaming sleep,
Limelighting my fond imaginings and phantom hopes.
You are my sun by day: gilding my wakened thoughts,
Burnishing my desires and heartfelt yearnings.
You are azure sky in Winter: reminder of coming Spring,
Harbinger of future love and joy.
You are warm rain in Summer: laying a dusty past,
Rejuvenating the lost enthusiasms of Autumn.
When, in Winter’s cold grip, I pass in review the
Ranks of memories, there are you.
A quiet grace to bring me calm, sparkling eyes and
Sharpened wit to prick dull days.
So like You.
Chills silvering down my spine
Cold sweat down my forehead
Trepidation coercing through my limbs
Teeth shivering; skin crawling
Pure unadulterated fear;
And then with great force
And beautiful agility
My husband
steps
On the little
spider!
IMAGINATION TAKES HOLD
Like chrysalis asleep,dreaming of
its wings await intellectual recreation
and active benevolence which brings
wisdom & blessedness.Such does
the future promise in the range
of high arts,parcelled out in shades
of pensiveness by the ticking of
the clock as imagination takes
hold and abides in perfection.
Letters of Samuel Palmer 1891
EVERY DAY
Dream the daydream,feel the
poetic in art,a deep glimpse of
landscape,silvering fragments of the
moon through a lattice.Pluck from
memory the rooted sorrow
and embody ideal beauty in a sunburnt
glow.Then rising all besmirched
begin,imitating in detail and
acknowledge momentary phenomena
in continual observation &sketch.
Letters of Samuel Palmer 1891
*A Phrasis is a structured verse where the poet uses selected prose phrases of another writer’s to compile unique poetry therefrom as a tribute thereto,the word phrasis is Greek for phrase.
Listen to me recite these two phrasis of mine on youtube under name of ichthyschiro
I.
I’ve lost my sense of silence…
I’ve lost my self
So now I hate everything
I want nothing to do with anything
Does this make you sad?
It makes me sad, sure,
And even as I curse even that sadness
I cant not rip it off
I wish to burn my angel wings
The game to me is cruel and dumb now
There is no merriment where there is no place to re-fuel
Buried in the thickets of eyes and ears as I am
Let me be
Retreat and I will learn some other trick
And never ever tell you about it
I will show you, like I do my own tears,
To me in the mirror
But just as my tears that I keep hidden from you
I will never tell you my reason for living
My own intents of love
This I will burn in my own memory
I am tired now…
Of you, world…
I wish not death or darkness
But light and warmth, out of ear shot from all savages.
II.
I was pulling strings of beads--
They were dancing!
I lumbered to a lull,
The lighted eyes raying into me--I shot upwards!
A rebounding blue casket flash,
I slip onto wet pavement as Wendell
Dropped salt spit from his brow,
Patting me tender.
Wendell lived alone.
With the many fresh faces rolling along the lawns
Pattering and clopping against the silent realm of wood,
Piercing my silvering sounds
With shuttering glimpses of the Great Blue and White
There was always a party with Wendell.
Woven in nature’s diagonal rings, as they appear against the sun,
There is some irate lust for human companionship,
Like mad scientists a-muck about the land,
All on differing timetables, differing desires,
Thoug with a thirst for air like me.
I look down from clouds, in a plane I sit,
And I stare at cotton, which is softly lit.
A warm glow oozes through, on the comforting hills,
With reds and yellows, my eyes it fills.
The clouds begin, and drift to the side,
To reveal the light, where the clouds once lied.
The sun breaks through, the cotton filled skies,
And reveals below, an island that lies.
A cream yellow island, in a turquoise filled ocean,
As I drift on by, a metal plane in motion.
We arrive at an island, with sands soft as clouds,
With grand, green trees, An island it enshrouds.
To look at horizons, where the sky meets the ocean,
Brings amazement, and love, overwhelming emotion.
A sea of blues, and turquoise with gold,
As the sun will sparkle, on reflections of old.
A crystal clear water, as warm as a bath,
As sting rays glide by, on their watery path.
The sun begins, to roll out of of the cloud,
And begin the show, it performs so proud.
The sea and the sky, once connected by blue,
Split into colours, with a mesmerising view.
With scarlet reds, and oranges so bright,
As the sun sinks to the sea, and into the night.
The moon then appears, with silvers and white,
That cast out the golds, in the blue of the night.
The sea and sky, will merge once more,
As silvering shimmers, light up the floor.
The whispering of trees, that carry in the breeze,
Will fill our ears, with an exotic wheeze.
As we look to the skies, and passing moonlight,
A sea of diamonds, together will unite.
They twinkle and dance, through swirling sky,
In deep blue and purple, my eyes will lie.
A paradise I’m in, when I close my eyes,
To dream of my flight, through them cotton filled skies.
Up there, a wonderful garden
moon flowers, silvering
the sky,,,
Further away, igneous
powerful garden of the sun ...
Fire flowers crackle
without burning ... !
Beyond, right there
superb garden of lights,
flowers of all colors,
of heavenly sparkles ...
They are all magnitudes,
divine gardens
of the creator ... that we have
also a garden in us ...!
https://youtu.be/XHNhVRjVtGc
sugested song garden by donovan