Best Stark Poems
concerned about being upstaged
the glorious blue tinted rock
negotiated
sent in the puffy white wisps
to cover the vibrant coloured evergreens
the brown field in the foreground
felt offended
wondering out loud
"what about me?"
then added "beauty you know is..."
but never bothered to finish the cliché.
for my part
i was more interested
in what the mountain had traded the clouds
what could it possibly have offered?
September 23 2016
I stared into the mirror, wincing at my own reflection,
through eyes fogged by cataract.
Saw a black tint spreading around my eyes
and face like a wrinkled piece of linen
Where is the bubbly girl of seventeen?
I asked myself.
How flamboyant and flaunting I was,
now enveloped in silence.
Do anyone remember my younger version-
the little birdie that tweeted endless?
Beneath the shell of this withering cortex,
I still have a heart young as ever,
not yet shriveled, but succulent
full of love and warmth;
a sleeping guitar, capable of music,
if trained hands move over my taut strings.
So please don't take me as a wretched hag,
and push me into a state of silent non-being
or throw me like the chip of a broken mirror,
making me feel so inconsequential!
Burnished bronze, tarnished teal,
flare warnings yield to winds of steel.
Their urge to jump, to flee and hide
cuts off the warmth for suicide.
They leap and land at such a cost,
far flung debris- refulgence lost.
They shrivel brown, dark fibers done,
decay beneath the wayward sun.
Their shredded shells in supine piles,
small hells ignite by human wiles.
Gray smoking wraiths slip out to sigh,
soar off to smear the flannel sky.
Green progeny will take their turn.
One chance to live is what they earn.
I saw a man stark naked there unexpectedly,
who in his masculine fashion, though not apprehensively,
went gliding (or was he striding?)
down the center of the hall.
He did not glimpse me at all
as my gut called out, What gall!
So brazen, so reckless this peculiar entity
appearing as if from nowhere to step in front of me,
not elegant or slim as I’m fond of men to be;
but neither corpulent nor stocky -that cocky buck he
with a smooth protruding rump, rather like a girl’s,
yet by his gait betokened “straight” with nary a frill unfurled.
Frozen to the floor, gawking all the while,
I tried to surmise what could prompt in one
such imprudent, impudent style.
Was he merely meandering in some somnambulism state
as his simple sex is wont to do even while awake?
Or maybe this curious man had behind his head an eye
from which, though facing forward, did enable him to spy
the stupefied stranger staring at his rounded bare behind.
For he seemed to be parading his rear assets just for me,
which I deemed, as I beheld them, excelled in simplicity!
Though nothing was exceptional, I smiled begrudgingly
at a finely curved back with firm legs attached
in resplendent nudity!
11/11/16 for the Naked Contest of Anthony Slausen
Drawing and life are similar
The edges in a drawing are blended away
The tight edges in life soften with time
We love more, and see our fraility more
With blessed time, time we are given
Time to know our edges are soft
Time to know we need a loving redeemer
Time for faith to grow deep
Thanksgiving grows with a deep faith.
The family all gathered to consort
as the doctors turned off all life supports.
They moistened her lips with a lollipop.
Shortly after her breathing stopped.
She looked at peace, her eyes fixed far away,
not a trace of pain on her face that day..
She lingered for a farewell kiss,
was so well loved, would be sorely missed.
Hovering above her vessel so worn, aware
of their wails as they deeply mourned.
The room now empty, absolutely stark,
her lifeless body alone in the dark..
She sensed a bright light and embraced
her journey as the hospital staff
placed her body on the gurney..
Shot up so high
Stood touching the sky
Was only a dream
Fell off the seam!
the stark horizon
fills with sapphire night
tears fall
There has become a void in the kitchen
The lights are off and it's much too dark
Some hold a pen with fingers twitchin'
with aggressive hatred much too stark
They bark about things they conceive
as truth, but a web of deceit they weave.
Their eyes perceive with visions blurred
Their perceptions and theories proved false
and so, they continue with words slurred
to bash while tripping the steps of a waltz
What wildling creature tries to take a stand
at the expense of ridiculing a fellow man
I'm writing verses as a rhymester would
not to bury Caesar using my pen as a knife
No sword do I wield, although I wish I could
to silence ones who cry like a bloody fishwife
Those who defile others while seeking fame
Those whose eyes are jealous are to blame
And so, for those to whom these lines apply
I'm left with confusion and frankly, disbelief
why anyone would dare besmirch a poet by
writing insulting words that might cause grief
What makes you see others with hateful eyes
What bitterness makes you loathe and despise
That's the stark reality I find disheartening now
I wish somehow it would blow away in the wind
Why wallow around in filthy muck like a sow
If you're offended by this, it's time you resind
the negative words you keep using in taunting
Malevolence has a way of returning by haunting
Captain America also known as Steve Roger,
Fought numerous battles as the first Avenger.
Once he was a tiny little boy,
Who had a big heart and strong will to bring justice and joy.
Soon he was given the super serum,
And became the symbol of heroism.
Once he was frozen in the ice,
For the complete 66 years with no choice.
Yet, He fought the evil with all his will,
Like Hydra, Thanos and even Red Skull.
He always carried his shield that has a star,
Made out of Vibranium gifted by Mr. Stark.
Never knew Cap could even age a day,
But he comes back all old and gray.
After placing the infinity stones back to their place,
He gives his shield to his friend Sam with grace.
And now he lives a normal life,
After marrying his beloved wife.
Written May 24, 2022
5th Place
in Captain America Poetry Contest
sponsored by Robert James Liguori.
Am I that hard to love?
To be treated with some delicacy? Dignity? Joy? Celebrated instead of tolerated? Honored instead of scorned?
Can you hear me screaming, pleading, begging behind my plastic smile?
Words are like daggers...
I thought my shield was Impervious to your slurs and half-joking barbs, that rip at my inequities, as you sit in haughty judgment of me.
This isn't love; Silent torture I endure as my silent screams are covered by self deprecating laughter.
Pride is frowned on, however narcissism and egoism are celebrated.
In an upside down world this is normal...
I think you got it backwards,
Love makes you feel wanted, needed, dare I say...happy,
not aching, burned, lost, scared, scarred or hurt, that's not love that's abuse of a form most base...
So I strike out in the only way I know how, with my pen...
Half concealed daggers of my own, blindly hoping to hit a mark and make you see...
You say my words are beautiful, but I don't think you realize they are loaded daggers filled with poison that you carelessly cast off to me.
I know why the caged bird sings,
and why our phone always rings,
because of you.
I know why the sea is blue,
because it hasn't found anyone new.
I need shelter from the storm.
I wish it was warm.
I know why the sky turns black,
because it's never looked back.
Why do you always sit on the porch,
looking like a clockwork orange.
Dedicated To Maya Angelou.
1928-2014
R.I.P.
Crowned with sunlight
Perfect regal reflection
Magical image
For Raul's contest
The Chalice of Night pours dark on the stair
drops of shadows that don't belong there.
Echoes of footsteps--do they signal harm?
Whispers in bushes that push our alarm.
We know spirits like to do their roaming
in quiet darkness or amid murky gloaming.
We feel their breath as it tickles our ear;
murmuring softly, they arouse more fear.
Walking alone on a deserted lane
in dark night, footfalls I cannot explain.
Is that just a bush, or something unknown?
can it be paper, or a silk kerchief shown?
Reading alone by mere lamp flame,
I hear someone whisper my name.
A step on the stair, a brush of air,
I wonder if Night is creeping in there.
At night, it's best to sit outside by fire,
gaze at stars' wonder to our heart's desire.
Release our dark fears to nightfall instead,
and leave expired mortals entirely dead!
January 19, 2022
Peace and solitude
Where dawn meets earth’s elements
Sinuous flowing