Best Starkness Poems
Autumn brushes her hair slowly
Letting the glorious colors
flow gently to the earth below.
Showing off vibrant colors
in contrast to summer's green dress.
Out doing the starkness,
of winter's white coat.
Autumn compares the mutable
shades of spring to her fall
Giving a sigh ,end of another season.
She packs her brush
as frost touches her tips.
if i stood
on the ledge
of darkness
aglow in the light
of moonbeams
flickering
like a lost star
beneath clouds
of life's doubt
would you
step out of shadows
and let yourself
be known
my soul
has searched
the deepest caverns
scoured hills
and valleys below
looking for yours
but only finds you
masked in dreams
still unknown
as a mystery
that may never be
i've walked
the shores
of eastern seas
counted the grains
of timeless sand
as days until we meet
then felt the lash
of storms
push me back
into the starkness
of reality
as salted sprays
kissed my lips
instead of yours
yet i still yearned
to feel your breath
arousing me
in the winds
that wrapped me
in a blanket of thoughts
i still imagine
the feel
of your touch
against bare flesh
as each day closes
against the darkness
in endless dreams
time is moving
more quickly
these days
as the years
are fading
of hope
yet still
i await
the spark
of your soul
to light mine
in the flames
of passion
if ever we were
to meet
then arise
like dawn
against
horizons
in an endless
glow
Lingering rays of sunlight slowly die
as scarlet burns the sky, where clouds ignite.
And as the birds roost, bats begin to fly,
capturing elusive moths in mid-flight.
Luna hangs high in an ebony sky,
spinning dreams into beams of golden light.
And twinkling stars, like fireflies, in the night,
confetti the heavens, dazzling the eye.
Golden filigree, pinned to the darkness:
galaxies adorn the heavens above,
and shooting stars unzip the black of space.
Yet, Man stands unabashed, in His starkness,
for Nature's beauty; can't compete with love:
an emotion intrinsic to His race.
Nights are restless in dispirited dreams,
treading water in storm-tossed seas.
Starlight guides an uncharted course
when I hear your voice calling me...
hoping to have you again at my side,
sultry eyes gleaming across ebbing tide.
In shallow shoals I stand shivering,
swells swaying in a rhythmic beat
as if they were merciless maelstroms.
But from their lure I seek no release
if from their hold you cannot break free.
Then, I shall perish within their flow
for this reality I have come to know...
My hunger for you will never be sated,
my thirst remains unquenched.
I'm drenched in brine and endlessly search
but yet to find a seraphic solution...
an inkling as to how I can ignite the flame
to light my way while calling your name,
for no matter where my quest leads,
I fail because you're never there.
If to be with you I must face my worst fear,
submerged, entangled in waters deep,
I will find you and wrap you in my arms.
If the bottom of the sea is where you sleep,
my heart will entreat the storm laden sea
to enfold me as it did you, joined in reverie.
I cringe at the desperation of that thought
but my heart is beginning to lose all hope
that it can cope without you at my side.
I cannot hide the dreary darkness inside me,
the bitter starkness and ensuing emptiness
that fills my solemn soul with morbid dread.
Gladly, I would surrender my last breath,
accepting death, forsaking the loneliness
and offer my life... body, mind and soul
without a torrential train of trickling tears
nor wretched frown of fear upon my face
to be with you again each night.
Quivering, I'll wade into tremulous waves
if it means I would be reunited with you
somewhere in reality... anywhere but here...
in dire doldrums of my dreams each night.
Even now, they beckon me into their depths.
If to love you, I must drown; I dare say I will,
surrendering to the fate of my destined plight.
The Double Rhyme Sonnet is a sonnet that rhymes not only the end of the lines but also the front part (metrically)! Of course, I would be looking for imagery, good grammar, meter, etc.; however, the most important criterion is that it be written precisely with both end rhyme AND front line rhyme using the standard English sonnet rhyme pattern of ABAB CDCD EFEF GG and of course, using Iambic Pentameter; therefore, the rhyme on the front is on the stressed syllable (the second one) and NOT on the first syllable.
(My entry: A Double Rhymed Sonnet)
The starkness of my world now that he’s gone
pervades in all I see and hear and feel,
but darkness swallows all until the dawn
invades. Then what I’ve lost is made more real!
I yearn for Moon’s return - her tender light
to keep me soothed, for sunshine is my bane.
I burn with thoughts of him. I need, each night,
to sleep away my longings and the pain.
He left, and now he’s far away from me
across the globe. Oh, how I love him so!
Bereft am I, but he perhaps feels free!
My loss means where he is tonight shall glow
sweet Moon, caressing him - as once did I,
and soon, I’ll face the glare from morning’s sky!
For the "Enter Your Own Competition" Contest of Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
Catching sight of unwanted reflection
through my eyes I observe my murky mind
lifeless, inactive, defying action
just a blank canvas, raw, pure, unrefined,
desire to inject substantial color
inspired pastels to brighten the darkness
eyes opaque though restrict light, much duller
impulses, brain requesting less Starkness,
my poor mind is without shape or structure
until my thoughts turn to the one I love
blissful images, colorful picture
changing this abyss, no more mourning dove,
she changes my thinking without restraints
such beautiful colors my mind she paints.
They enter the strip
joint like the last
flurrie of flakes.
She hears the music,
hears the voice of the
D.J. Wind, enters on cue.
Her cold poles await her
as she moves to the beat.
One south, one north.
She works them both.
They call her Storm
she is the feature act.
Drawing her minions
in for months now.
Quickly the starkness of ivory
starts to melt off her body.
The long blanched gloves
covered those particular
patches are the first to go
revealing the fresh lustre of
bare skin once again exposed.
Sexy,
she's a professional!
She stares out
noticing the skeletal
frames once only
shadows,
now with a glimmer
of light.
She knows her time
is short now
feels a hint
of life in her
domain of
dead stares.
Hears sounds
that are telling.
Was that really a chirp
or just a whistle?
The pulse of warmth starts
to pump through her veins.
Now her shiny robe
falls to the ground and
you can sense the smell
of want in the air.
The flow of liquids
previously frozen stiff.
Storm the stripper
slowly teases the crowd.
Down to her Victoria Secret
garb she tugs at our groins
knowing her audience craves
more.
In this case that also
means less.
I personally will miss her
in this present form.
Her tidy white lingerie
against her tanned skin.
Covered peaks,
rounded mounds.
You just want to
ride up, and maneuver
your way down.
The timing is wrong.
I know she will strip bare
as first the top goes then
down to a G-String of snow.
Naked,
winter stands
in front of me.
She will meander a bit
shake with a breeze
of perfumed cold.
Slide onto the floor as she undulates
with her come ons that near a finality.
She saunters off the stage
and me I watch winter's end.
Spring, on winter's barren
ground starts to peek from
around the curtain,
with her touch of green.
Warm breezes.
Her array of pastel colors.
Ladies and Gentlemen,
Winter has left the building,
Spring is here!
01~19~2015
Sponsor: SKAT A
Contest: Winters End
Insistent starkness claims a leafless day
Where morning breaks with silent calm and dread
The slope of field is framed, behind the glass
reveals a fallen tree, with jagged edge
and grassy hills now laced with autumn rust
Inside we find a plain and cheerless room
The table sparce, an empty chair
A plate, a knife, a saucer, without spoon
One empty cup, will wait for no one there...
Ambiance of what has been,
...still lingers in the air,
as amber glows, with threats of snow,
are just a hint, instead
Lonely hours, and lonely days, and lonely shadows blend
The endless songs of yesterday, slip in from window's ledge
A meager meal will spread upon a table set for one
Where breaking bread alone without a friend
is companioned by a solitary end
The angled sun, casts shadows deep and long
A somber mood, reflects this quiet calm
Upon the walls, where gardens grew, are faded memories
where yellow blooms of yesterday, are just a step away
Where, once were two, who loved and knew their sun would rise again
There now is one who sits alone ...at the table set for one
Where hope has gone, when morning comes...
to sing a lonely song
Based on the Painting by Andrew Wyeth ... "Groundhog Day"
http://www.andrew-wyeth-prints.com/gallery_andrew-wyeth-groundhog-day.html
Whispers of Light color the Night in lifeless hues
Musical Notes arrayed in soft Quotes for a muse
Filling up Lives with captivating Archives in cues
For moments of Bliss, feels like a Kiss to bemuse
Gentle Insights soften our Sights with pure truth
Creating a Peace that will never Decrease its ruth
Embracing the Heart from the very Start of our youth
Echoing Hopes, finding moral who Copes with uncouth
From the Darkness comes a Starkness that sighs
Words within a Poem, so you Show him who tries
With passions Alive, burning to Strive so they rise
Above the Pains life sometimes Gains before one dies
Faith makes one Wise in another’s Eyes detect grace
That blinds the Soul who is Whole and cannot face
The past that Casts a bitter shadow that Lasts to chase
Black thoughts Around and finally Abound in this place
Loving feelings Abide deep Inside the one who feels
Alive with Compassion that leaves you Ashen from appeals
To be Appraised by those Amazed that love like this seals
The heart with Joy which will Destroy any corrupt ideals
In Rhymes Sublime Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
November 1, 2020
I am a survivor, a warrior,
no matter how far I fall in this life!
My short time full of hurts and scars,
all my journals read like memoirs;
I endured the wreck of childhood,
before many tombs- I have stood;
I have walked hand-in-hand with death,
leaving my tears on baby's breath;
I wear my pain but I am a fighter,
I pen strength because I am a writer.
I am a survivor, a warrior,
no matter how far I fall in this life!
I have had a long battle with illness,
prayed to my God in the stillness;
Not all wounds are visible to the eye,
the fear of blindness will stay till I die;
Even with disability- I fight,
and live each day with delight;
I am not ashamed of my darkness,
never a victim in days of starkness.
I am a survivor, a warrior,
no matter how far I fall in this life!
How many times have I started over,
the defeat- I have had to turnover;
I have stood strong in every storm,
shame vs strength like bees in a swarm;
Many struggles in this life to endure,
but with courage- survival, I will ensure;
I am a fighter, a warrior brave,
and I will always ride life's great wave.
________________________
August 28, 2017
Poetry/Ballad/I, am a Warrior
Copyright Protected, ID 17- 934-232-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, I'm A Survivor
sponsor, Julie Rodeheaver
Twelve Place
On the park bench in the starkness of a city facing darkness,
I was drinking, feeling tipsy, working on some poetry.
Close by me was something lurking; suddenly it started jerking,
and it seemed that it was *twerking!, How could I write poetry?
“Will you stop!” I fairly bellowed, “I am writing poetry!”
But it jerked incessantly.
I was reaching now my limit, but it acted like a dimwit,
covered up by nearby bushes. What it was I had to see!
Though the thing was well in my sight, how I wish I had a flash light,
for it had become a dark night, and this thing was close by me!
Poetry was fleeing from me. This thing was too close by me,
and it twerked incessantly.
I could see the bushes moving. It was like the thing was grooving.
But to what could it be grooving with no beat or melody?
What it heard, I was not hearing; in the shadows I sat peering
wondering if it was leering. How could I write poetry
if that thing was leering at me as I wrote my poetry?
It just jerked incessantly.
Though my heart was filled with such dread, boldly I spoke up and I said,
“You there, like some kind of pervert, just how crazy can you be?
Show yourself. Why are you irking me, like Miley Cyrus twerking
in the bushes where you’re lurking oh so close by me?
But the figure uttered nothing though it was so close by me
twerking on incessantly.
Finally I got much bolder. Getting up, I walked right over
to those bushes where the figure hid. I had to see!
What I saw in New York City in that park was not too pretty!
And for me it was a pity, it destroyed my poetry,
For I’m finding out now when I want to write more poetry
it flows not incessantly.
In my mind it stays forever. Will it ever leave? No, never.
What I saw still haunts me when I try to write my poetry.
I just see that creature lurking in the bushes ever jerking
with its tiny butt a ‘twerking. What an ugly creepy monkey
Why the heck can’t I forget the sight of that dumb monkey
twerking there incessantly?!
*If you don't know what twerking is (one poet didn't) see About this Poem for the link!
(A parody on The Raven, trying to use the same meter and line length of Poe's poem. My apologies if I veered too far off course in how it inspired me!!)
Fingers of light pierced the clouds caressing the moors
with life giving warmth, purples, browns and greens of
heathers mingled, blended, in a union of beauty. Yellow
of gorse splashed in the sultry, hazy spectre of natures
superb canvas. The dry stone walling lay sporadic, lost,
decaying in time and memory, the hardy moorland sheep
stumbled from blade to blade, in the breeze they used the
walls as shade. Golden plovers dipped and dived the call
of pee weet pee weet echoed in the stillness, the Peregrine
hovered with silent wings and sunlit eye. Those fingers of
light walked the hillside highlighting the chalk outcrops
on craggy reaches as if new laden snow. Black pools of
peaty water dot themselves borne of winters starkness,
it is a beauty that holds both eye and heart, a picture
painted for the soul. A place where all blends and the
crofter wears no watch only the sun and moon to follow
and the footsteps of the rambler sleeps in the fragrance
of the heather.
A red sun, pooling like a drop of blood:
coagulates at the edge of darkness.
And ebony flows like a rising flood:
black as pitch, inking a seamless starkness.
A gilded moon, like a pitted gold coin,
beams in the sky as a beacon of light.
And twinkling like flashing fireflies, stars join
quasars and pulsars, lighting up the night.
Dawn frets like a nervous actor offstage,
while preparing to introduce the sun.
And as a gossamer breeze comes of age,
morning shimmers, like a web, freshly spun.
And Sol rises: as a golden balloon,
afloat in the air, like a songbird's tune.
(Sonnet with rhyme on both ends of alternating lines)
The starkness of my world now that he’s gone
pervades in all I see and hear and feel,
but darkness swallows all until the dawn
invades. Then what I’ve lost is made more real!
I yearn for Moon’s return - her tender light
to keep me soothed, for sunshine is my bane.
I burn with thoughts of him. I need, each night,
to sleep away my longings and the pain.
He left, and now he’s far away from me
across the globe. Oh, how I love him so!
Bereft am I, but he perhaps feels free!
My loss means where he is tonight shall glow
sweet Moon, caressing him - as once did I,
and soon, I’ll face the glare from morning’s sky!
For Nicola Byrne's Long Distance Love Poetry Contest
God bursts everywhere…
Smile of a child
Twinkle of an eye
Surge of a wave
Silence of a grave
Bloom of a flower
Unseasonal showers
Kindness of the heart
Purity of a thought
Every drop of sunshine
Some poems of mine
Starkness of the night
Forgiveness after a fight
God bursts everywhere…
In the green of the woods
In the ‘G’ of the good
Moments of fear
Heads bowed in prayer
Every bite of chocolate
Ghalib’s* every couplet
Serenity of soul
Oneness of a goal
Bonding with friends
Concern of parents
Sweat of toil
Whiff of wet soil
God bursts everywhere…
Tears of solitude
Courage of fortitude
Vibrance, music, words
In organized and absurd
Dreams, hopes, love, compassion…
Humming tunes and quiet conversations,
Even after my days are done
This poem will forever go on
A verse could be added each day
Because God bursts everywhere.
*Mirza Ghalib was a great urdu poet.