Best Silvers Poems
like a lover’s sigh
she tiptoes forth looking back
those warm memories
birds still singing cross over
and sad sunshine stills the wind
now September sings
a sympathetic tune silvers
promises late gold –
the change will be gradual
promises sleep painless sleep
mysterious calm
Llke a magic caesura
bated by surprise
in mind it’s ever the same
such gentle looking forward
In pounding Summer, our love is restless,
like daffodil dreams immersed in hot wind.
In the vapor of Winter’s reign, our love rises above,
reaching the glaring mountain’s lips.
If skies cloud red with war, our love exuberates the fight,
two hearts gazing at the wisdom of the sun .
If thunder pangs our heart in static shocks,
our love shawls the sound, refuging the embrace we won.
When the buds of Spring bloom, our love emboldens,
like the yellow petals on a matchless rose.
When Autumn sings its death, our love silvers,
the harvest beckoning our works to fall and resolve.
From the Hour of Languishing to the Day of Settlement,
our love will continue to strengthen.
From season to season I love you always!
My one, my only, my Brightest Star.
Sloth’s Steaming Sin
Sluggishness slitters solely straightforward
Sedentary survival styles scold, strain
Self-centeredness - sloth’s shinning standard
Squandering silvers… spiritual sprain
July 21,2022 11.31pm
PS Syllable Counter
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables: 40
Proverbs 19:15
Slothfulness casts into a deep sleep, and an idle person will suffer hunger.
Sin of Sloth
Contest Judged: 8/2/2022 3:20:00 PM
Sponsored by: Margarita Lillico
Place 1 (one of the 8 first placers)
O weary wings washed with seraph's silvers,
weep and bleed over this blackhole heart
as the smoke of moon-leaf sleeps upon my lips ~
I taste lethal liquids with tints of torture through its tender tears ...
neither salvation nor sins can seduce my sacred rhythm ~
since it does not starve for fanged foresights
ringed with feral roses and fatal stars,
as the hymns we hum are our own version,
not destined to die with the deviation of desires
O interstellar intuition
wading within infernal incense ~
I am not elusive,
I am never lulled by the locus of logic …
let the sky u n l e a s h what flows with time
and u n k i s s the mispronounced prayer
as I, a roaring lily spirit stained
with your love and lies, am not alone ~
but the only one closer to the cosmic
q u i e s c e n c e…
I am the heartbeat of the heavens,
handwritten… with the ink of soul
a believer of my own Sun,
the Zenith of my own Zen …
so let live and live, in this pulse of life
for, it is a soulful crown ~
the throne of transcendence
and this spirit seeks to be the truth that twins
with the loyal essence of the Lord's divinity,
as I remain ~ the rebel of nirvana ~ …
Creatures of earth
Where do thou draw thy mirth?
Thou fumble through bed of roses
And flaunt thy jewels and dresses.
Then thou smile and chortle
But where do smiles go after?
I am a lady
Voice little, inaudible.
Yet a prayer must not be loud
Not even like a tiptoe
Or the shingles of ornaments from Cleopatra’s neck.
A prayer must be as silent as that of the nativity scene,
As humble as the child in that manger.
I wish not of silvers or golds
Neither of clothes that mark differences
Nor cars that make distance
I desire of armor not for myself
But for my son and daughters
That they may tread on life,
Free from evil’s snares.
I pray for an Evergreen tree
Planted on my husband’s heart.
For like that tree, love must not wilt nor fade.
I light a candle.
I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream,
Rocky road unto the tin roof, let the chocolate chips
Fall where they may, float me down the river of
Goodie, goodie, mouthwatering spoonful’s of what
You know my friend, Ice cream!!
Double dip me, with peppermint silvers of toppings
Delight, I’m not bashful I’ll taste another delicious
Tasteful bite, of yummy goodie, past the teeth,
Down the throat, look out tummy hear it comes,
The sweetest yum-yum, you’ve ever indulged in,
What is it called, let’s all shout it out, loud and clear,
I scream, you scream, we all scream for Ice cream.
Frozen milk and sugar what a rushes impact left on
Over load, so many variations of pleasure my taste buds
Surrender, unto Baskins-N-Robbin’s ultimate control.
To a fine point pleasure zone, smoothly textured
I’m drooling with anticipations brain freeze.
Chill me to the shaking inner core, I’ll become the
First human living ice cream cone, a chiseled
Ice sculpture smiling within an ice burg of delightful
Bliss, just don’t forget my sprinkles topping, your choose
Of choose.
Scoops at the ready, hear there is no holding back,
Let the squeeze bottles run free at last,
Marshmallows, to milk chocolate flow, I’m
Here for my just deserts repast, licking down
Unto the last drops of flavor are finally gone.
Come on fudge slice me, ice cream man,
Let no truck pass until the final frozen bar
Is shared with every lucky child, whom chases
After your musical vehicle of our childhood
Remembrances dreaming.
Oh sacred is the banana split, the whole grail
Of the summer time treasury treat, three scopes
Of sensations richness, covered by the sweet sauce
Of thy choosers delectable choose, I’m at your
Tender mercy, please take advantage of my
Weakness, for what Ice Cream!!
I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream,
Rocky road unto the tin roof, let the chocolate chips
Fall where they may, float me down the river of
Goodie, goodie, mouthwatering spoonful’s of what
You know my friend, Ice cream!!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
A program is pending. Kids are milling around,
ending the day on the fall afternoon.
A pamphlet about war is displayed on each desk,
ignored by the class, who are restless, at best.
Just a few books are opened, at the teacher's request
There's a strange mix of whispering, laughter, and squirming.
Chairs have been scooted to make extra room
No one much caring that a speaker is due.
They are just in a hurry to finish the day.
To leave with their friends, get on with their lives…..
The noise in the room hums like bees in hive
A guest soon appears, without much fanfare
Slow is his gait, from a limp. And they stare
how it takes him a moment to gather his words.
His gaze drifts away, to something reserved
His face marked of age, furrows deeply endowed
But, as his story unfolds, ...and the quiet takes hold,
all the air in the classroom is breathless and cold.
And so,.. left behind are scars of the truth
that will mark them forever, give them a cruel
lesson of life, lesson of death, lesson of courage, and much more respect
This was not just a movie, a book or a tale
But truth beyond fiction, a story of hell
The remains of his youth, are now left in their hands
to change what could happen, and never forget
With far-away eyes, and with sage not denied
The frail little man has made the room cry
Their tears brim with outrage, compassion and vows
The room has gone silent, but his light will shine on
The dust motes have settled, sun silvers his hair
Enlightenment enters where dark once appeared
The world at the window is now theirs to own
Somehow grown older……..they watch the man go
with the tears of their sorrow, on a fall afternoon
silvers wealth whispers
feathery intimacy -
dream of harvest time
Poetry Wheel Challenge
Theme: Night
Emotion: Longing
Color: Silver
Season: Harvest
Form: Haiku
Object: Feather
Verb: Whisper
Winter sestina
on summer nights she cupped love in her heart
tasted the honey of a gentle kiss
and the heat of an exotic garden,
she roamed in a rabble of wild colours, with rows of chillies
red hot in the sun, back when she was young,
heart hammering, fluttering like a bird
she knew a freedom then and flew, like a bird
on the wind of words that touched her heart,
like Spring she burst with the richness of the young
she danced and claimed her man for a kiss
her blood burning in her like juice of chillies
she was exploring love and luscious in the garden
now frost silvers the branches in the garden
she fluffs herself in feathers like a bird,
her tropical thoughts, hot as chillies
still simmer in a corner of her heart,
though she has passed the joys and langour of the kiss
she knows the white heat of being young
she has a freedom too, not felt when she was young
is curious to know who lives now in the garden,
she knows the thousand meanings of a kiss
and feels the height and flight of every bird,
the smiles of those she loves nest in her heart
warming her blood and glowing like chillies
in a shadowed door she sits and strings the chillies
watching the posturing of the young,
benevolent, smiling, letting loose her heart
in memories of time once spent in a garden
when all she could hear was the singing of the bird
and all her dreams were garnished with a kiss
her love flows broader now, gifted with a kiss
the wind of her years rattles her old bones, like chillies
on a tin roof in the sun, watched by a bird
who remembers too, how it was to be young,
who flew and nested in a golden garden
and sang the songs that touched the woman’s heart
now, in winter frost, her heart is warmed with every childish kiss,
in the garden are scattered seeds and skins of long dead chillies,
and the young ones listen for the voice of the bird
Until I've seen, Melbourne days
was not just emptiness in play
I know I'll see
What I didn't see,
the September soaked symphony
of Vivaldi vines climbing,
jacaranda booms,
tremolo spilling eaves
Until you know this suburban kid's righted the wrong
I'll verse on my way, you as the bridges in my song
Making choruses of dreams that could soon belong
And urban princes and their Porsches
Lost in winters, cold in summers
They adore to ornate you, over muskwood and glassy silvers
But can they look up to the night,
And know wonder in the sight?
In that blue-hued veiled Van Gogh I see your stars
These hardened hands carrying letters I send
will wear me down to some sorry end
And this I know
But I'll go knowing
the Chapel charade was the pretty noise
of sonnets chasing sunsets,
drunk Welsh poets
tearing tails for London wisps
Until it comes, a northern boy without southerly blues
The swaying Yarrans, sparkling flutes, Victorian flues
Keeps Flinders Station stepping full of over-priced shoes
And boney bonny dames, old money games
Skirts for winters, surgeons for gains
They climb to lower you, for fifteen lights upon their names
But can they look up to the night,
And know wonder in the sight?
In that blue-hued veiled Van Gogh I see your stars
The image reveals to its audience, four light slices of tall, stale bread
Being held upright alongside five glasses of warm, thickening honey
Filled to the very rim, coagulating as the bread stales due to time’s extended hold
A long table embracing these entities, blurry life buzzes in the backdrop
Neighboring me close, waiting to pervade me
Stands Opportunity, ambrosial in sight and smell—sticky in persistence
Opportunity is multitudinous, overflowing, enticing—though often overwhelming
Days pass and Opportunity lingers in different shades
Bright orange in corroding inspiration, spread around and behind
Even dark shades of its power peak out of the glasses waiting to break
Waiting to release its freedoms upon me—to freshen, moisten my stale existence
I continue to stand in equal portions, life outside a mere haze
Distorted shapes afar…tranquil colors of whites, silvers and greens
They giggle, for as time passes, Opportunity is still good
Not I—no; I must stand wait forever on this wooden surface
Drying and aching for the moisture I cannot dream to touch
Though perhaps if life outside becomes clearer, a hand will reach for us,
And I will be drenched in the generous overflow…a nourishment for all I know
For Giorgio A. V.'s Contest : Ekphrasis Contest 01
This was fun! Hope I followed the rules okay!
To children's eyes in mid-December,
a city street winks and twinkles.
The towering collage of lights and patterns
seems majestic and surreal.
Silvers, reds, and living greens
all conjure up exotic scents and
whisper hints of private promises,
smiling, shining, blowing kisses.
SEPTEMBER SONG - triple tanka
Like a lover's sigh
She tiptoes forth looking back -
Those warm memories -
Birds still singing cross over
And sad sunshine stills the wind
Now September sings
A sympathetic tune silvers
Promises late gold -
The change will be gradual -
Promises sleep painless sleep
Mysterious calm
Like a magic caesura
Bated by surprise
In mind it's ever the same
Such gentle looking forward
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HAPPY HAPPY TIME - double tanka
Happy happy time
Early tears and sleep lifted
Once past Labor Day
Harlequin in falll colors
Trips so lightly o'er the world
Echoes sad voices
From the past are silenced
By the happy clown
Bacchus come down pours the wine
The whole world on color dines
**************************************************************
Majestic, lambent vistas glowing gently their glittering joys afore my eyes....
Silvers dust amid magical palms it seems; cast in a breeze this breath of life ~
Brilliant to breathe the light of divine; in poly celebrations lustrous kingdom
Hearts come alive; along the paths of loves colourful bosom like magic; dust
In glittering palms to lay down this death which died; dies again, deep inside....
**************************************************************
....^ “Faith, Walking In *The Spirit” ~
Ross holidayed as a kid once at Center Parcs,
Where he first played the sport of table tennis,
And he loved it so much ‘cos he was so good,
That a member of staff remarked on his ability.
He was successful, ranking in the world top ten,
But later, in 2011 he was genetically diagnosed,
With multiple epiphyseal dysplasia of the bones,
And was glad to be welcome in disability sport.
He was the youngest table tennis team member,
At the London Paralympics where he came fourth,
In the singles, so he did well considering his age,
‘Cos his inexperience didn't hinder or scare him.
In the team contests at these joyous 2012 Games,
Ross and Aaron McKibbin won the bronze medal,
Which ranked him as No. 2 on the worldwide scale,
But he then got a shoulder injury which he nursed.
2014 and Ross took the gold in the International,
At the Cote d’Azur, so 2015 saw him take silvers,
In Hungary and Italy, but then he was injured again,
In his knee, elbow and he strained back muscles.
However, at the Lignano Master Open in Italy, 2016,
Ross won with teammates a bronze, so in Rio grand,
He took another bronze with the team. He’s a fighter,
Born on 5th June 1995 in Minster and trains Sheffield.