Best Sound(A) Poems
While whispers shush on sheltered shores, as soon the cockcrow quakes,
the seas descry a skittish sky, sense summer zephyrs wake –
roused passions neath the sunrise pulse, the whitecaps throb and ache.
Along the crests crawl shallow shades the soaring sun effaces
and rains in streams enhance the dreams that fantasy embraces
while ocean sprays of yesterdays reveal forsaken faces.
The midday sun has slowed its run, a shrinking puddle steams,
between the knells of shattered shells drift soaring seagulls’ screams –
the beauty wends but never ends, or so it surely seems.
At dusk a ruddy disk descends, the skyline's furnace burns
and neath the swells where Neptune dwells, an undercurrent churns –
a seahorse hides and seaweed bides until the tempest turns.
While twilight hosts the winds with ghosts of barbed electric spangles,
a mermaid braves the crashing waves adorned with starfish bangles –
her spirit yearns in twists and turns entwined in rockweed tangles.
As seven stranded seamen scan the dimple-dappled moon,
a brace of surly Sirens serenade a lonely loon –
the breakers pound and sometimes sound a melancholy tune.
Soon gales ignite the briny night and rip the skies askew
with zigzag teeth flashed deep beneath a blazing bolt tattoo –
storms, spent, subside in ebbing tides, then all begins anew.
~Chasing Bigfoot~
Across the Bayou Waters
Into vast trails of wilderness
I follow a sound, a sullen scent
---footprints
He was out there,
hairy large and in charge
Drugs under the beastly moonlight
Heavy torrents swept me in
Deep, down and dark
Under a hidden den
Between the moon and stars
I gaze into a world unknown
A comparison of salt water and bonnets
Lord of the forest deep
Entrapped in a romantic secret sonnet
Over the corner in every shadow
Red Auburn hair, above a 12 foot pair
Daring to face the lone gallows
In one peek
I observe it was not made by men
The fear became excitement
It offered a moment to think
I don't know if it wants to injure me
It sniffs me repeatedly,
Smearing my skin with his nose
This type of behavior, this smell
Began to arouse my rose
Rough nails grip around my neck
Forest flavored lips
Unravelling a taste unhuman
The touch erupts and fills me with fear
Still, I long to linger near
Sunrise starts with a grin
Revolving around the mood
Upon his long coat of shrooms
Without fear I stroke his thick fur
Rough and sweet I repeat
Living or dying, I stay
To love the fear-driven inside
Day after day
Deep and gray, life fades
Then becomes elusive
11 years the sun hides
Dark eyes, hold me all night
This wild man, by the bedside
Cries from the woods before sunset
I follow----
Somewhere behind hidden walls
The woods stand tall
Flowers welt from this burning love
My heart owned by the sasquatch
Though rapid dreams and streams,
I scream
Of Big Foot and I
By: PD
THE MEADOW
Spread
Neath umbilical sky
On nutrient Earth
She stands alone this noon
Surrounding woods
Mountains
Distant structures
Seem to encase the lush green plot
Have taken on a sunny sheen
Then there is this peaceful babbling brook
running through
sparkling
wetly whispering
GOD!
What an ecstatic vision!
But wait!
Come
Lie down on fairy moment’s colorful hay
Smell the wild flowers
Hum a happy tune
Then Listen!
Oh!
Below!
A wild bacchanal defames all empyrean image
Slither-slide –
Bunnies mice POP!
Bees dragonflies
Winged squadrons buzzing BANZAI!
A billion glassy eyes of every size
Looking for kill
Or pre-empting demise
Shiny black bugs on nature’s green rug
Distant
The sound a staccato wheeze
A high wire din
Like one hundred tortured violins
Then rise
Return to that simpler view
Smile in wonder
That nothing in nature is static
And wonder what’s going on inside of you?
Dave Austin
Picture a tropical paradise - faraway
Colorful leis of fresh fragrant flowers
Worn by hula dancers that sway
Sandy beaches and leisure filled hours
Soft waving palms on a moonlit bay
This island where mountains reach down to the seas
You’ll be filled with Aloha wherever you go
Soothed by the oceans and warm blowing breeze
Each day assures us of a rainbow
Everything dances here - even the trees
As evening fades to pale orange light
Beach boys sound a conch shell call
Hawaiian torches burn into the night
Ukulele’s strum- an instant heal all
At last on vacation the world seems right
Many people each of a different race
From other lands have come to make a home
To live in peace in this enchanting place
And to here will return however far they roam
Ko ‘Olina beckons them with silent grace
You come to me, fill my world with delight
And hold my captured heart so pure and true
To dance with you 'till days of breathless flight
In gentle fashion tender hearts pursue
The love you share is free from dark despair
And beats a vibrant sound a welcomed tone
To lift my soul above the lightest air
And nurture every day that lovers own
For this my love I give to you my heart
To kiss with passion's lips what love acquires
We'll count each star before they burn apart
With dreams and wishes filled beyond desires
To live each year our eyes of passion see
We found our love was always meant to be
1/13/17 Dedicated to Lovers everywhere
Yes, love the salty ocean rocky shore,
and gaze at endless blue waves in motion;
with a restless and merciless loud roar,
I adore the wild salty ocean shore.
Waves crashing upon rocks with emotion,
all its foamy frothy saltiness pour;
with birds calling for a great commotion,
yes, love the salty ocean rocky shore.
The waves come for a countless wet encore,
the sound a loud moving locomotion;
while I stand on the rocks wanting more, more,
and gaze at endless blue waves in motion.
Visiting each day with huge devotion,
with salt on my lips I walk and explore;
waves whisper me a harmony woven,
with a restless and merciless loud roar.
In the blue sky ocean birds scream and soar,
sitting with pen finding words unspoken;
oh will not tire of it evermore,
I adore the wild salty ocean shore.
Yes, love the salty ocean . . .
_________________
February 22, 2021
Poetry/Rondeau Redouble Modified/Yes, Love the Salty Ocean
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1331-416-22
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Salt
sponsor, Anthony Biaanco, Judged 03/10/2021
First Place
MY FATHER'S GENTLE HANDS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I remember my father’s hands as a plumber’s hands—fiercely strong, calloused, rough, knuckle-battered, and dirty after a long-day’s work. Those hands shoveled; unclogged drains and toilets; repaired leaks; and installed pipes, commodes, and bathtubs. Those hands provided.
I remember my father’s hands as a fisherman’s hands—perfectly patient, tenacious, self-confident, and unwavering as he held his fishing line and lure stabile, waiting for a fish to take the bait. “Keep your hands steady. Stay focused,” he prompted me when I asked him to teach me how to fish from his flat-bottom boat. Those hands fished longer than they ‘plumbed,’ rarely missing an opportunity to commune with nature, seldom losing a fish. Those hands fed.
I remember my father’s hands as a treasure hunter’s hands—firm, certain, and capable, listening intently to his metal detector’s tones learning to discriminate the sound a good coin makes compared to the choppy, broken sound a junk target makes. Those hands searched, discriminated, and found soulful answers to life’s complex questions and dilemmas.
I remember my father’s hands as gentle healing hands—kind and comforting as he wiped away the tears that sometimes streamed down my face. Without saying a word, those hands loved, consoled, and encouraged—always righting my world.
I remember my father’s hands—full of strength and hope as he took my trembling hands in his. Those hands gave me courage—the courage to reach up in search of everything impossible, leaving me with the unbridled sense that to do anything less was the greatest impossibility of all. Even now whenever I need courage, I can feel his hand around mine helping me to feel invincible once again.
In my mind’s eye, I often see my father’s hands—every line and every wrinkle. They told a story about the kind of man he was. I’ll remember my father’s hands for the remainder of my life. I’m grateful for him, for his enduring spirit and presence, which continues to grace my life despite his passing some years ago.
Dad's hands tell a tale
they did countless loving things
they touched and guided
they shaped and molded
they encouraged me to reach
they held the stars in place
they held rising sun
they sought deep understanding
they chased lonely moon
I have no cause to lie,
my memory is clear.
The night was cool, the moon rising.
Fresh scents from a passing rain captures the air.
My campfire kept me warm from the damp forest,
its light reflecting dancing shadows.
I felt relaxed and calm, stress had fled,
from my world of constant work.
My coffee was now ready when I heard a branch snap,
off to my left'
The furious rustle of branches pierced my ears.
A strong musky stench filled the air, surrounding me.
My heart raced as I stared into the darkness,
trying to see what had came near my camp.
I was alone, fire my only defense, but from what?
A sound, a low bellowing sound,
cracked the foundations of my belief.
A beast nine feet tall appeared from the thick bush
and stood quietly still.
I had no where to run or hide.
The beast consumed the space in front of my eyes.
It walked towards me hands out, palms up.
I was confused,disoriented, frightened,
until I saw from the crackling flames,
porcupine quills.
The pain in its eyes burned into me, crying out for help.
I reached over and calmly pulled each one out,
lifting me eyes to its face each time.
It seems I heard a low rumble that sounded like relief.
This beast, this huge beast looked down on me.
The silence could have sliced through ice.
It suddenly turned and walked away.
leaving me trembling with a fire and shadows.
I slowly picked up my cup of coffee,
still looking into the bush, still frightened.
My legs stop quivering as I sat on a log,
next to my fire and smiled,
knowing no one would believe me.
4/16/15
Frederic Parker
Powder dreams and acid queens
Snow white bliss and razor
blades
Rails so thick your heart will
bleed
Find your fix so you’ll succeed
Uppers, downers, sweet cocaine
Every demon has a name
All that matters is the fight
To stay alive and in the light
It hurts so bad right through the
core
You fear two words and that’s
coke whore
Cut so deep to feel alive
With every shot you build your
pride
The fiery rush and burning lust
Nothing else matters f*** their
trust
A slip, a fall is all it takes
To see you land back on your
face
The heart that breaks can’t take
no more
Your soul is gone thrown on the
floor
The pills you pop the smack you
shoot
The crack you cook the lines
you toot
The midnight toke that liquid
courage
That blissful coke won’t be
discouraged
Rapping, tapping on your door
Claiming your body take some
more
A stressful day a slip from grace
A couple more makes my heart
race
The walls cave in two worlds
collide
I wait in horror as my heart dies
A crash of sound a rush of red
Crimson tears are filled with
dread
The sirens fade and fall away
Too late for fate this ends today
Beneath the darkness of heavy hearts,
Tears from nowhere weigh me down,
But I hear a sound,
A mighty sound,
Merry men,
Laughing tongues wagging,
And I hear a sound,
A mighty sound,
Lost memories rush in like tides,
Hands throw roses,
Landing like stones above the ground,
What a mighty sound,
Beyond the dark into the light,
I hear a mighty sound,
Scaring the moon, stars turn off their lights,
And I hear a sound,
Tomorrow appears with a glorious sun,
Mourning is over,
Night has fallen behind my shoulders,
And I hear a sound,
Children are born and some will marry,
I hear a mighty sound,
Clouds carry my burdens while songs fill the air,
Rains quench my thirst with every captured tear,
And I hear a sound,
A mighty sound,
I can't see you from here,
In the morning's light I have slipped away,
But I hear a sound,
A mighty sound,
Inside your pain something remains,
A mighty sound, A mighty sound,
I hear shadows fall,
The sea turning black and days turning pale,
And I hear a sound,
A mighty sound,
Blood on my tongue as I kiss death,
I hear everything you say,
I feel your pain,
Your tears heavy and wet,
I can't see,
But I hear a sound,
Inside my heart,
There,
With my last breath,
You'll hear a sound,
It's God's Almighty Sound.
~Vickie Thayer~
In a chariot of fire in the sun
blew a pale horse and pale rider’s last breath,
and on your grave sings a haunting raven
in the shadows of the valley of death.
Between trembling leaf and pohutukawa
the undertaker’s men stood grave and bier,
and brave stoic life filled the living hour
forevermore a day, a week, a year.
These time echoes rise up from its bones,
and that lone raven's song on pit row
pipes through the rushes beyond the tombstones
where time cut short above stood still below.
Yet I fear death itself I shall not mourn
when its flame bearer blows its fiery horn.
But far more does sound a haunting in me
as if your faint voice my ear passing through -
and I trapped betwixt next world and earthly
sit this day communing with God and you.
Today I upon this ploughed earth sullen gaze
and hearken in the blooms the winds of death!
Its cold foul blow that bodes ill all my days
dares to breathe on me its cankered breath.
These time whispers rise up from its bones,
and that lone raven's song on pit row
pipes through the rushes beyond the tombstones
where time cut short above stood still below.
Yet I fear death itself I shall not mourn
when its flame bearer blows its fiery horn.
Written: July 1995
….And no one spoke…
protecting all about them from
the perception of impropriety,
insensitivity, misunderstanding
…and no one looked…
shielding their eyes lest their gaze
be taken as an affront to the fashion
choices of a passerby, an insult to
the sanctimonious clerics wardrobe,
an assault on the personal space of
a nearsighted Neanderthal.
…and no one listened….
for fear of hearing anything….
that might offend their sensitivities,
sound a tone that was not in
complete compliance, allow the possibility
of conversation.
So did the monkeys take the throne,
the threesome of denial, risen
to the peak of power because they
heard no evil – spoke no evil – saw no evil
became the dupes of evil - because they
heard no good – spoke no good – saw no good
John G. Lawless
8/13/2015
Used on Poetry Soup 6/13/17
Summer’s Songs
The rumbling bass of thunder,
A beat of light, a roaring rain,
Zinnias are spreading and waving
Glory colors once again.
The low viola of cool breeze air;
Blue Jays’ tweeted tempos,
Searing sunrays rippling
Hot sand lodging in your toes
Suddenly a siren crescendos
As a passionate clarinet.
Playing children in summer shorts
Sound a cheery sweet quartet.
Water splashing and sparkling
Lends its notes to the homebound throng.
Turtle doves’ murmurs sighing
Softly the finale to summer’s songs.
The banshee wails within the gale
and unease weaves its wary tale
across fair Eire’s inland moor,
a Lord will die by ancient lore.
The banshee wails.
Her hair is torn, her face so pale,
her gown a tatter shrouded veil,
bringing only dark and horror.
The banshee wails.
'Tis but a warning, a mournful hale
a piercing sigh, the end's exhale
soulful sound, a mother’s clamor,
cutting through the shields of armor
though death, the sound, will not delay.
The banshee wails.
From her womb...come birth
A child...a new life
His first sound...a cry
His first sight.... his mom
His first feel...mom's arms
His breath...so soft
Small toes...wee feet
His nose...so cute
His ears, he hears...
Love you, son
Lift your eyes
See the light
Come ere
To life
Child