Best Small Poems
Holding onto a rail.
I lean over to see my reflection
mirrored in the water
and small fish swimming
in the camouflage of me.
I muse whether they are feeding
on my thoughts, nibbling
on the strands that loosely
float my day, making
their easy way towards
a dark clumped deep
in my shadow.
I can almost feel
their small fins brush the inside
of my skull, following
the course of a fear,
threading passage
through a weedy tangle
of doubt.
Then, swimming deeper,
their excitement seems
to grow in what they find,
feeding on something
that is hidden from me,
beyond the reflection
of my own mind.
an early morning rise,
up the stairs
walk into the bathroom
in the sink
a small stain of blood.
less than a measure of yesterday
pulling a baby out of the womb into my arms.
on the sheets
a small stain of blood.
midwives wrap
my first born
snug and warm.
when her mother
finally gets her initial fill
she hands me this precious
new life.
i hold her knowing
there is nothing,
nothing!,
nothing...
nothing.,
nothing-
better then this moment!,
sweet scented perfection!,
lulls me into a peaceful bliss.
as she grows,
i spend my best times with her
and later her sister too.
my daughters own me
lock,
stock
and
barrel.
Ali?
i still see your
baby green eyes
reaching out to me.
i still smell your
childhood scent.
i can still taste
your hopes and dreams.
i can still touch
your youth as if it were now,
hear your tiny voice
"daddy i love you but you're my best friend too".
there is nothing,
nothing!,
nothing...
nothing.,
nothing-
better then this moment!,
you're now twenty two.
in the sink?
a small stain of blood.
in your bedroom
cocaine,
syringes,
...everywhere.
i clean
carefully picking them up.
i know you know you're playing
russian roulette with your life.
the drug convinced you
your life isn't worth living.
that's what drugs do.
they're that snake in the garden of eden
and you know eve ate that apple
and you know she sacrificed everything
for a fruit that would never taste that good again.
evil always presents itself as the only choice
while good seems too tough an alternative
but the truth is, the harder you have to work for it
the better it feels and it holds its feel with nothing to chase.
you can't hear me
the monster deeply
imbedded in you.
but Ali i love you
and Ali my heart weeps
and on my chest sits
a small stain of blood!
June 3 2015
Armand
Little blue bird
without a name
It's you I heard
I play your game
High in that tree
You sing a song
And you want me
To fly along
The beach is near
But stars are far
A sky so clear
And then we are
Above the clouds
The clear blue sea
We sing out loud
Just you and me
***
May 30, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
No matter nature’s placement woes
Of ears and lips and eyes and nose
Or beauty’s plan for symmetry
That makes us each a you and me
No matter fingers, hands or feet
Or weight to lose and scales to cheat
Of length and girth for short or tall
Appendages a size too small
The heart of kindness knows no rules
Of gracefulness that’s learned in schools
Instead its beauty rests assured
Its favor need not be implored
For love which guides a gentle soul
That cares and carries love’s patrol
Needs not to worry form’s design
Most beautiful is love divine
small gifts -
contributing to other's happiness?
# show me a man or woman of simple mind
people who we commonly term as slow #
point out ====>
people
of simple means
In the middle of my own small world I stand,
Both feet planted firmly on the land.
Gold is the sun in the sky.
Oh, that I could fly!
Then you see -
I
Would be free!
Earth-bound, though, I sigh.
I'll remain so till I die.
Knowing that out there is something grand,
In the middle of my own small world I stand.
Written 2/5/15
Now for Joseph May's 'Andaree - 11 Lines' Poetry Contest
In my countryside, silent at sunset
Long gone is the stress, long gone is the fret,
Long gone is the need to be so wide-eyed
Silent at sunset, in my countryside
Calm now are my skies with their colors bold
Streaks of blue marry with orange and gold,
My mind long gone astray, as the crow flies
With their colors bold, calm now are my skies
Another day ends on my small hometown
It's old, sunbathed bricks now shading brown,
As dusk creeps in corners, silence descends
On my small hometown, another day ends
Down the sun dips behind my shadowed pines
And so easily now my head reclines,
Watching and awaiting some dreamy trips
Behind my shadowed pines, down the sun dips.
He kept a small room
he wasn’t in it very often
but it was there and he knew it
it was safe
for though life had opened roads
that needed to be trodden
and he was often far away
his room was
waiting for him
in it was his bookcase
teal blue stained wood
shelves of a life explored
childhood memories
books about dinosaurs and the moon
pictures and piggy banks
old record albums and
his Titanic collection
there were two hickory chairs
old world charm in light pink brocade
a gift of decades past
and his library desk, a rare find
and one to keep for its
mahogany leather embossed top
its drawers crammed with 50 years of
incidentals, papers and letters
and brochures
on its walls, his oils and watercolors
kept guard
his paintings from a long ceased dalliance
in art
he kept a small room
to visit
for though he believed that home
is where love is and can be anywhere
he also knew that a seed planted
can grow and grow
but its roots must survive
Like
a small
wild grass
that persists
to grow
devoid
of sunshine
and rain..
so is a poet
who persists to write
sans readers ,sans likers.
People are struggling to live
Farms with green grass roof
An old-fashioned mower
The daylight set the time
Milk bucket on ramps
Potatoes and fish four days a week
Maybe you're thinking :
Charming and maybe a little rusty
But : I remember the simplicity
Longing and nostalgia
My happy childhood
As a balm for the soul
A place I danced barefoot
The old memories make me both sad,
humble and happy
So strange ...
it feels like yesterday
Days that collect dust
But before we know it
it's old memories
I feel privileged
and enjoy the taste of a bygone era
By following the tracks back
On the narrow gravel road
Today another era ~ the circle is closed
22.04.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Listen ~ I'm sure a competent musician could
not have come up with something better
Still we have much to learn from natures melody
We can not escape from the music
You need to change, we all need
Take a deep conversation with the nature
I don't think anyone really enjoys confrontation
Nevertheless, I see this as very important
Nature can not scream in pain, we must see the signals
The voice of nature ~ the music ... a ballad
So ~ for better or worse be a nature role model
Where goodness is sown ~ goodness will be harvested
- 27.05.2016
- Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
- (unrhymed couplets)
- Copyright © All Rights Reserved
I find myself whispering
On my bird feeders small winter bird are eating
They enjoy present meal in peace
So beautiful they are
Their chest in yellow, orange and green
Tiny, tiny feet and hungry stomach
They do not think about Christmas rush
A little song of the wind crossing the plains
I just spend some time in silence listening
to a song from my small angels
12.12.2014
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
When your heart
corresponds
with your mind,
then, give it a shot,
you write
back to me
what expressions
you so badly
need
to bleed;
the characterisation
of letters
are alphabet soup
to me, child's play,
peeling tattoos
like bells ringing
over a tongue
not speaking,
I swallow words
hungrily
then I spit them out,
bullets that pierce
a page,
bulls eyes
staring back
through the black holes,
the other silent horns,
all silently complicit
small missions
of truth
cornucopias,
wearing through
the thin fabric
of ludicrous
fantasy
feathers that fall
from soft pillows
quaking against
levees breaking
the barriers hitting marks
the sands of time broken,
river banks splitting,
the bodies drowned
and sucked up
like works of art
in a hyped up
Hieronymus Bosch,
if you are in deep
you can make sense
of it all,
you know you're in it,
that picture, way, way
up to your eyeballs
brushing against
all the others, removed,
flotsam and jetsam
in the wash, sensing
the path they all took,
but the mystery
of never quite knowing,
like a smell, pervades
charcoal tears
melt all the ways
a heart can be kicked
down and gutted
witnessed through
gilt edged windows
full and jaded
to a gate opening,
the sound cracking
like a mouth
terraforming
dustied and green
the shaman soul
found underneath
it all, humourously
rustling sage over
the external,
a serious novice
for burning
small
exorcisms
smoking out
renegades, those
stubborn seeds planted
in long spent sentences,
those true romantics,
the forgotten ill-bred,
well-tilled, rebel poets
small
exorcisms
for burning
Candide Diderot. ‘24
violins.
Somewhere in the Appalachian Hills quilted with love
there are cottages and curtains clothes on sills, quilted with love.
Up high in deep where electric wires don't reach where night is dark
and the ridge the deepest blue of spruce hearts are still, quilted with love.
Across the table hewn from ancient apple, rubbed and oil, flat, sweet
lies a cloth that Gram made from flour sacks once filled, quilted with love.
The stream, miles off, had held a mill where wheat was yearly brung
our harvest gleaning we would bring barefoot uphill, quilted with love.
Nothing was wasted then, old clothes, became new, small bits of sacks
bought comfort, hot pots to hold, mended gifts, heart instilled, quilted with love.
I will define Spring
In the beauty calm your mind
The length of daylight
Child's inquisitive wonder
Celebrate rainbow colors
26.01.2016
A-L Andresen :)
Tanka 5-7-5-7-7