Best Spiralling Poems
Sipping the
Poisoned, dark
Inky medicine..
I am Remiscent of a
strange Alchemy
silently lulLing the
unsuspecting Lovers
surreptitiously Into the twisty,
snakey, turNy underworld of
Gnarly trees and
rootS that writhe to
triP the unwary heart.
a pastIche of memory that
Reminds of
Alluring all
the Lost souls
sLowly
Into the
Nocturnal
Gaze of the
omniScient
ever Present,
ever lovIng
fatheR and creator
of All things;
indeLible,
everLasting,
consIstently
eNgaged for
Goodness
Spiralling Stardust Sight
Chasing clusters of dust and Venus vapid lust
We sail and we sway throughout the Milky Way
In a thrust, we land on a planet of candescent crust
And with dynamic display spiralling star dust spray
Jupiter and its moon Callisto a calamitous cocoon
With craters of ice, the shivering silence shall suffice
Off to Mars by noon on a botanical baronial balloon
It has paid the price with scars that scabrously splice
And lest we not forget Pluto a throw away or asset
A tiny pinhole within the cosmic super galactic bowl
On the night we met the stars shining as we sweat
The love that you stole along with my heart and soul
All this on a spontaneous starry narcotising night
Within a spiralling stardust spraying sensuous sight.
Oct.11.2017
The Cosmos
Sponsored by: Thvia Shetley
First submitted on May.07.2017
Resurrected for this entry
Neolithic stones
Majestic motions upward
Bathed in fairy prances
Ancients questioned the meaning
Of the skies above,
Many assuming they knew the truth
Pertaining to solar systems and solstices,
Those humans were created,
Along a perilous journey
That led them to Paradise
In ancient spiralling motions
Prayer wheels make me dizzy
getting tangled in my hair
I bought scissors ten a penny
clumps and mats everywhere
Prayer wheels make me giddy
I shave my head, going spare
Place a thimble on each finger
using pin cushions, roots I pare
Prayer wheels make me hazy
I scalp myself beyond repair
Hack skin grafts off my legs
botched job, a skull’s laid bare
Prayer wheels make me crazy
at brain tissue, I readily tear
Pus blooms inside my eyeballs
and optic nerves, reek despair
By
David Kavanagh
Cloudy,
A storm cloud comes in the horizon.
Thunder,
Rumbles as darkness settles.
Lightning,
Crashes with anger and rage.
Rain,
Downpours with power.
Tornado,
Tears through a town.
Sun,
Peeks through clouds.
Madness,
Slow Spiralling.
Spiralling in, out, and somewhere in between existence's consciousness' subconsciousness' unconsciousness' perceptions versus realities finding meanings versus misinterpretations
learning versus understanding
knowinging versus pretending to know
doubting versus believing
giving advice and it's not taken versus not giving advice
being literate versus not being literate
disagreeing versus agreeing
being emotional versus being apathetic
adhering to one's self versus whatever everyone else wants you to adhere to
living in reality versus living in a fantasy
factualizing falsehoods versus not believing in these falsehoods
fictionalizing history to fit victors and layman's biases versus finding the truth about history
fictionalizing unpopular truths and facts versus taking them as absolutes
proud of yourself versus not being proud of yourself
and every other this versus that scenario!
SPIRALLING OUT OF CONTROL
Yes, our planet is heading out of control –
no one can stop it or those who wish to bring down the end.
The Americans try to look back in time – will they ever manage it?
Crazy people think the aliens are about to take over – is it true or just make believe?
You tell me. This is the ride of our lives – it could kill us or bring us the thrill of a
lifetime.
Go on, drive your car into a lorry, you may live to tell the tale.
Will enemy bombers threaten our cities and our very lives?
These are questions we can’t answer but there is always some that we can;
someone will die, someone will live in the game that is called life.
Our world is a fragile place – day-by-day it falls apart.
People just plod on with their mundane lives, not looking to the future –
it’s much too big for them, scary unknowns. All they see is the past and decay.
One day when mankind is nothing but dust, the world will be free of her burden, man.
fill (someone) with the urge or ability to do or feel something, especially to do something creative
A father swings his daughter in the warm embers of a summer night
A fragile woman sits in a seat her chemotherapy drip pushing poison through her veins but smiles
A husband stands in the rain with an umbrella waiting for his wife’s return
A sunbeam strikes a wave as it makes its way out sea
A poet uses words and senses
A teacher uses knowledge
but what to inspire
Hope
Love
Create a tivity
Intangibles tangled in torrid traps
No hope without the hopeful
No love without the loved
Is passed tense the past tense of past tense
No creativity without the creatures to create
Urge with an nudge
Find the somethings new
Hope until you can’t
Love until it gone
Create until everything is done
At times we feel that
our longest years on earth
are but milliseconds
of another birth;
are we then to wince in pain
or grin with mirth
for whatever shame
or pride it's all worth?
or have we been
to this planet banished
from a paradise
that has long vanished,
with nary an inkling
that our wandering
is but a round-about,
slow-motion spiralling?
Images flash across the screen
What does it all mean
People dying
Children crying
Values lost
Out of control
Death nears
Anger flares
We are filled with such despair
Peace is gone
Hope is lost
Mankind seems bent on destruction at all costs!