Best Starless Poems
Thinking of O, Ms. Jill Martin was in her solitude “Quietly…breathing”
That, she just waved her hand greeting April Lewis “Without Speaking”
I spied humorist Donald Meikle, writing a “Note to a Lady in Waiting”
Let’s party! exclaimed silent Sami Al-Khalili, but not “Only In Winter”
That’s a real cool idea, and I said, how about in “The Field Of Summer”
Dame Marcyle Beer offered her place, called “Welcome To Fort Beer”
A rising star Taryn Melville proudly breezed in: saying “I Am From…”
But, party guy Anthony Slauson showed us his “Fingers of Freedom”
Leaving noble Alyssa Finley’s young mind fixated in “Dreams Come”
A free verse expert JeanMarie Marchese of Homosassa, uttered “Slow”
Let snow lover Linda Smith tell us first her “Footprints In The Snow”
Indeed, we’ve our time to introduce ourselves, before “The Cockcrow”
Sweet Elaine George arrived, when the night still had a “Tender Heart”
With a special gift, for Raquel Nicholson, ‘cos she has “a broken heart”
I learned that Big John Tanaskow did not wish to go “Back At the Start”
The party made poetic Mark Hansen expressed himself, in “Cloud Nine”
Perhaps he had consumed much of shy type Nicola Steel’s “Plumy Wine”
For he was too excited, to meet a bright Seema Ali, on a “Poetry Online”
Before the party was over, Juanita Ganir, sprung from her “Sacred Well”
And, old Londoner Matt Doe spoke, of his mighty “Showdown In Hell”
To a sexy Tamiviolet Manchas, but, she xoxoxo urged him, “Don’t Tell”
Many thanks, to photographer William Jones, for his “Living In Color”
A souvenir that reflects my own plea to “Make Me Whole, Once More”
A plea to everyone, to all friends, to remember that “My Name Is Thor”
i walk alone
the echo of footsteps
tapping back
to the beat of rain
as it falls pooled
with my tears
no stars
to catch my wishes
this darkened night
just flashes of light
beyond the hills
that tremble
with the roar
of thunder
i stop
at garden's edge
a lavender rose
beneath the bramble
struggles, petals closed
it hangs in the bleakness
as alone as i
no stars to wish upon
i walk, rose in hand
through the darkness
alone
Moon missing the stars tonight
Left alone in darkest night
In the air that wears with fright
Shape molded like broken light
Moon singing alone tonight
Swirling clouds jealous of right
Stars twinkling for Moon each night
'til twilight Moon waits with blight
I'm here tonight
to stand in the ache.
The ache of hollow,
the empty of the not
simply empty; rather,
the empty of the
recently full.
The silent ache of
missingness, of quiet.
Before the ghosts have
risen, before the
memorial stones are
set. Before the cards arrive.
Before the flowers
are vased to wilt.
I'm here tonight
to stand in the ache.
Of what so recently had
been.
Of who was.
I'm here tonight
to stand and weep
and shudder. I'm here
tonight because
you
are not.
To quell the anger of the earth's beating heart
Spiritually parched and bleeding torn, scars;
Yet still haunting visions of people apart
Rendering resplendent sights, skies with no stars.
The courageous lions roar hoping to mold
Opposites to magnetic attraction, bold;
Because they both become the same old pawns
Drawn in and diluted, welcomed as hell yawns.
"Accept the things I cannot change"
______________________________________
For: Nette's contest "Serenity Response"
By: Tim B
O, starless night!
A night when clouds are not in sight,
And yet the stars give off no light.
O, starless night!
O, blackened trees!
The trees are blacker than the seas
That rage with sickness and disease.
O, blackened trees!
O, sullen muse!
When there is nothing left to lose,
We sing until we hear the news.
O, sullen muse!
O, sorry plight!
Muse! You’ve taken all the light!
What have you done?
You stole the sun
And stars cannot give off their light!
O, sorry plight!
What sin have we intruded you
To take away our light?
Why do you insist to play
With us at your delight?
We recognize your power, now!
We see your awesome might!
Please have mercy on our souls
And give us back our light!
Give us back our light!
hope
misplaced,
dark day dawns
tick-tock, tick-tock
date confirmed by lot
thirteenth day of twelfth month
revenge builds its own gallows
three-day night of anguished fasting
queen's hope rests upon her monarch's orb
Jews' annihilation - signed but not sealed
written July 22, 2016
for Kim Merryman's Etheree contest
I was reading Michelle MacDonald’s superb piece of art “Sea Shanty”
Secretly, under the haiku master Katherine Stella’s “Yum Yum Tree”
When smiling Carol Brown, invited me to her grand “Surprise Party”
The charming lady of the soup was no longer feeling bad or “Sideline”
After mending herself, thru helpful John Boak’s “Like The Best Wine”
I am not sure, if, playful Julie Bristow told her, the miracle of “Divine”
Thank God! Doret Cope sighed; she didn’t suffer from a “Stolen Love”
She enjoyed the work of Dawn Drickman’s “The Tiger And The Dove”
She is a good person, that I told her my secret, of having “Other Love”
At the party, Keith Bickerstaffe, without her luckless maid “Ophelia”
Was talking to Sir William Robinson, the great man behind “Mahalia”
I guessed she asked him why I wrote “O God, The Rat Has A Phobia”
Dancing flawlessly, to the nostalgic tune of Jeffrey Lee’s “Music”
Was my haiku mentor, she’s mesmerized by Mahalia’s “Light Magic”
But co-host, a certain Adam Piper was caught trapped, at “The Attic”
I did surprise all, even William Robinson, “When I Stop And Pray”
I interrupted my recitation, of own favorite “Cast Your Doubts Away”
‘Cos, I rather break my pen, but not a promise: “And To Thee, I Pray”
Epulaeryu chef Joseph Spence Sr. who “Makes The World Go Round”
Was explaining, his cooking, to sweet Elaine George, but “Spellbound”
By the strong romantic power, of yellow “Dried Rose On The Ground”
That got humble Daria Stone confused, of feeling “Unlocked, Not Free”
A beauteous Deborah Simpson smiled and asked him: “Sequester Me”
Joyful Karen O’Leary said, the handsome chef, will “Travel With Me”
in the absence of stars
i am reminded
of my aloneness
as i stand
on the edge
of my dreams
it's in the silence
of these darkest nights
that i hear your whispers
falling softly around me
i curl myself
within the comfort
found within thoughts
as i drift
to sleep
once more
(trying to get my muse off the virus... with better thoughts)
you look upon the sky and seen a starless sky.
why does it feel so lonely within one room?
why does everything have to end in some point?
the moon looks lonely, as you sit.
you think to yourself. .
i am a moon in a starless sky..
where is my shinning star?
where...
where am i to be found?
.
Black night starless plight
Guided internal radar
Shell glorious gift
That night, vibrant Effie Blake told me “You Don’t Have To Be A Star”
To see the beauty of this world or meet Troy Nelson, of the “Dead Star”
Ahh!!! My voice need to be heard, that I wrote “To You, Mr. Apolinar”
It’s about quest of heart and mind, of being simply “Me And The Moon”
Stressed Michele Nold had a simple request, “Where is the Bath Room”
I didn’t entertain her, for I felt dizzy coming out from “The Lost Room”
Then, I overheard grin-faced Oshin Ifedayo saying, “She’s gone at Last”
Who’s who? The “Christians, Muslims, Jews…” “Heaven Waits For Us”
A place of peace, where we can write a sonnet, of being “Home, At Last”
So, you can tag or be tagged, in our “Starless Night: The Art Of Giving”
I agreed, with Vince Suzadail Jr., that giving’s more of a “Human Being”
Tammy Armstrong liked the ambience, but said, “Something’s Missing”
Some didn’t come; they’re busy surfing, ‘cos “The Deep Blue Is Rough”
Historian Charles Fuller sent them a note, “I Hear You In A Photograph”
Now, I see why dear Tatiyana Carney has “Lock Box And Photographs”
Note: I tag the first person who read this….and the last one, too.
Thanks to K.S. for encouraging me to play
And also, to C.B., for the e-mails…love the message/photos.
I look to the stars when I am sad
I look and realize that life is just that
Life is a sad process of denial and greed…
I look into the depths of space and am amazed
The magic of even being here is staggering
The possibilities of me
The possibilities of you
The possibilities of everything around me
Is truly inspirational…
I let go of the little things
I embrace the magic
I laugh at how silly we are
To solely focus on one daily routine
That excludes others
That sometimes excludes our selves
And we become blind so easily…
Beneath the same stars there is war
I hear no bombs or cries
Beneath the same stars people die
For those silly little reasons…
And I wonder for hours
Until sleep takes me into dream
About the stars so far away
The meteorites that brighten the sky for just a flash
I wonder how far those have traveled
How old they are
To just disappear in our skies in a fiery streak
And it makes me feel in a way, sad and guilty
All of those wishes made upon such an intriguing process…
And I sleep happily
But the sadness will return tomorrow
When the stars do not shine on me
And I once again become blinded
To only seeing what be in front of me
What I have made my sole world
My daily world without stars
Stars, remote and wondrous,
try to console another wretched soul...
not mine, that one which bore a tremendous loss;
and no song being sung by me would add to the tone!
My wine isn't as sweet as honey,
begone are those delightful nights of intimate embraces,
enhanced by wild and sensational kisses;
but spring, with all the dainty flowers,
withheld the true passion from me: to defy my reality...
vanishing quicker than shadows!
And gazing at a starless night with a lifeless breath,
a banishing doubt can bring on sadness...
watching no shooting stars cross the awesome Universe;
only reviving hope with some significant verse!
Why do you wait for morning, betrayed lover? Her fidelity
wasn't as infinite as your profound certainty!
Shallow and disillusioned...assuring no existence,
contemplating instant death to substitute incoherence...
to let a starless night empty itself of desire,
but combating a dubious feeling adds more to your dire!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
On a starless night, when the sky retreated like an old cloak,
I found myself floating on the river of melancholy,
memories intertwined in the fabric of a dream,
a fabric woven by unseen hands,
where the steps of those who climb the mountains of success
are steps of shadows, shadows dancing at the fire of illusions,
hiding their faces under masks of gold and silver,
but their eyes, oh, their eyes,
carried the flames of another world,
flames that consumed everything they touched,
for they were children of the fallen light,
Lucifers who only partially knew their origin.
In a sea of silence, where thoughts swirled
like dried leaves in an autumn whirlwind,
I understood that the path to heights
is paved with lost souls,
souls that sold a part of themselves
for a moment of glory,
for a moment to feel
that the world is theirs,
but in the darkness of night,
when the stars seem to fade one by one,
the truth reveals itself like an open wound,
and the shadows show their true face,
the face of children of chaos,
psychopaths building temples of illusions.
Under the pale moon, silently watching,
I felt the waves of time
crash against the shores of memories,
and each drop of water
carried a fragment of the story of those who ascend,
of those who look into the mirror of success
and see only the reflection of a hidden demon,
a demon that knows how to smile,
but behind that smile
hides a profound pain,
a pain intertwined with desire,
the desire to be more than human,
more than a mere being
wandering through the darkness of destiny.
And on that night, when everything seemed lost,
when the shadows danced around the fire,
I understood that the magic of success
is just another face of melancholy,
another face of a dream that unravels
in the light of the first rays of the sun,
and that, deep in our souls,
we are all children of the same night,
children who look towards the stars
with eyes full of hope,
even when the stars seem to fade,
and we are left with only the illusion,
the illusion of a road leading to heights,
but in fact, it is just another labyrinth
in which we lose ourselves,
seeking the light that will set us free.