Best Steams Poems
Crying River (The Untold Ballad)
Undercover waters of rain dash
Cold children, no smiling splash
Tragic sobs, epic force of the mountain rain
Beautiful as it may seem -shallow basin
---Dream---
She cries a tune,
Mocking the Maple lands, a beautiful tune
Crooked Cornwall, she steams with the moon
Oceanic dreams, monsoon season, she swoon's
Frozen, dead, ice skating rink
Her wind, Pretty Chains O Lake
Wet and Wild, the Elk drinks from her garden
Water falls from the lids of Jordan
Beautiful as it may seem with open curtain
When the ocean succeeds away from the sea
She's wide awake during winter's rain and breeze
Lost in the mud's of Bellaire's heartache,
River Blues, ice cold snap, bayou stirring up
Racing rivers crying by the western gutter
Silent, bells chime in the Black Mallard waters
Streams, blowing and drying dew droplets
Little rapid tears, everything spotless
Sugar, Swan waves down by Devils Creek
Listen to the thunder bay rolling deep
Beautiful as it may seem, she weeps
A northern world with streaks of falling rain
Pretty running white hair pane
A weather vane, snow dangles above her domain
Beautiful crying winds
In the Eyes of Michigan
~3/5/14~
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.
There is a place called beautiful nestled deep in my mind's eye
Gingham curtains crisply pressed frame periwinkle summer sky
Brass kettle on the old gas stove reflects cast iron pans
And always at the kitchen sink, I see busy, wrinkled hands.
There is a place called beautiful, I'm transported with a whiff
Of coffee brewing, dark and strong, I long to take a sip.
And in the air a trace of Tollhouse cookies baked this morn
And some perfume that only in this special spot is worn.
There is a place called beautiful I hear in perfect dreams
As Frankie croons and Louis wails all whilst the kettle steams
And as she works, she never tires as she hums and sings along
But the harmony of her lilting laugh is by far my favorite song.
There is a place called beautiful, it tastes like sweetest creams
Made in a bucket with a crank til her arms wore out, it seems
And topped with juicy berries that would burst upon each bite
And juices stained my mouth and clothes most every summer night.
There is a place called beautiful, I long to feel again
The naive sense that everywhere was as safe and free of sin
Where love and peace were daily served with a kiss upon the cheek
And grandma's kitchen always felt like you just found what you seek.
4/9/2019 / Poetry Marathon Final Placement / Sponsor: Mark Toney
A time for many a part-time passion, like
the discarded skin of Esprit jeans and low-hip waistline
baring pierced navel with flavor of a chase on the run…
would he dare confess real love as the world tolled
for Lady Diana and Charles?
You with me… moon to sun, fire to burn our eyes…
I swing on an illusion and steal the time away,
rustling along a Mustang’s back seat, while
some 8-CD tract pleads, "Do you think I’m sexy,’’
dipping in steams of instant affection.
How deep-cheeked your thrills
like Indiana Jones , knocking me
off-balance: and I, a fool ignoring the pain
that you may never Stand By Me,
never in blinks of thousand stars,
a recycled tune melting in the sand
now you’re just ozone’s hole...
I wrap the scenes along Route 25,
as bittersweet time passes by. Alone.
Kelly Deschler's Decades Contest
``Do You Think I'm Sexy
and Stand By Me-- top 80s songs
Someday I'd like to wander free
like butterfly, like bumblebee,
perhaps to plant a willow tree
beside the silent solemn sea,
before these things exist no more,
from mountain top to shifting shore,
when, soon, bald eagles cease to soar
and build their aeries nevermore,
and fish forsake polluted streams
(where sulfur swims and typhoid teems
since no one really cares it seems)
to die inside our toxic dreams
while ice caps melt and winter steams,
and all the air surrounding reeks
as children choke, for no one speaks
of fracking wells or oily leaks
(Big Brother's silenced all critiques!),
and rancid rains acidify
so woods no longer multiply
(for God so wills, we can't deny,
which is, of course, our alibi).
And as the deepest ocean fills
with plastic bags, and garbage spills
upon the plains, across the hills
and turns to poison dust that kills
wild dingo dogs and daffodils
which sink in swamps’ forsaken swills,
the mocking bird makes light and trills
(midst waning wails of whippoorwills)
"Behold the surreal scene that chills
and greet the dread that death distills!
You've had your day with all the frills
that brought the flood and final ills
that can't be cured with bitter pills
nor yet undone with further thrills
of profit gained that grinds and fills
dead desert sands with dollar bills."
EPILOGUE
Though swaddled still in infancy,
we feel we’ve reached our primacy
(aloof, though preaching piously,
disdaining deeds of decency)
and have no need of augury.
But in the pit of prophecy
the crucial questions seem to be:
“Is doom Earth’s fate, our destiny
to twist in tides of agony
destroying nature’s progeny
with no return a certainty
assured by death’s finality?”
and
”Should we plant a willow tree
to someday weep for you and me?”
Last Love Letter
Adrift upon a sea of dreams
like paper boats on downhill streams;
my swirling heart is like debris
forever drifting endlessly
while weathered by your wily schemes.
And so I write as my soul screams
this last love letter so it seems
as hearts approaching apogee
adrift upon a sea.
I’m hiding from the moon’s soft beams;
a pool of sorrow sadly steams
with fantasies you stole from me
when you walked out and set me free
and left my heart in dire extremes
adrift upon a sea.
January 8, 2021
Poem of the Day - January 9, 2021
With thoughts aligned within my mind
the poetry I hoped to find;
and dreams refined, angst left behind
by words forever redefined.
This symmetry was meant to be
please share with me your poetry.
The words within your heart begin
to make my head so softly spin;
with thoughts of sin I start to grin,
as goosebumps form along my skin.
This symmetry was meant to be
please share with me your poetry.
Your beauty beams and fills my dreams,
and takes them gently to extremes;
my mindset steams with wily schemes
as deep within, my passion teems.
This symmetry was meant to be
please share with me your poetry.
With bright array your words display,
and form within a bright bouquet;
these thoughts will stay with me today;
your poetry takes me away.
December 25, 2019
Poem of the Day - December 26, 2019
(Duo rhyme in Honor of Mary Ports)
Butterflies & Moonbeams
Of things that inspire I will write
Whether things of day or by night
Butterflies and silver moonbeams
Upon the quiet water gleams
Azure heavens where a hawk screams
Sunsets repainting awesome themes
Trees shade meandering cool streams
Yellow Stone where old faithful steams
Fireflies & double rainbow dreams
All made of magic so it seems
Enchantments entice my delight
With wonder I will dream tonight
©Diana Dalton 15 July 12
__._,_.___
our moaning quickens
the glass on the shower door. . . .
steams up
For SandyIvy's Natural/Nature Sexy Haiku Poetry Contest
Hear My Sweet Dreams
Hold your dreams tight!
In your sight then
Each night sleep there.
Dream on with glee!
You hold me thus
Lets be with care.
Under pale blue moon
Love blooms soon show
in rooms quite fair.
Velvet touch spreads!
On soft beds slept
Love weds our pair.
I think your kiss
Each I miss now
A remised share.
Hear my sweet dreams
We ride streams down
Fire steams our pair!
Robert J. Lindley, 3-07-2016
Not For Contest.
Added end rhyme as a bonus.....third verse each stanza..
there, care, fair, pair, share, pair .
POETRY FORM- Than-Bauk, 4 syllables per verse, 3 verses per poem.
I wrote mine as a double--never like to be restrained or told to follow limiting rules.
Thus this one is ineligible for the contest I wrote it for.
No disrespect but too bad the sponsor decided they did not want to read longer poems. -Tyr
POETRY FORM- Than-Bauk
Thunder rolls on the rails of morning
frightening the cat, curdling the cow’s milk
sudden, sullen rip roaring.
Released from its governor, it rattles man,
shaking the frail panes of his existence.
Jagged skyward shards spark, as the storm
wheels over the harrowed rye field,
splitting the magnolia tree from crown to root.
Gutters flute, asphalt steams, and within
the tumult the lawn of morn is cleansed
to a silver sheen of green.
So slick, so brown, baked and bright
colour and flesh, bordered by voluptuous curves.
You’ve made praises of you beyond a man-made stuff;
on you alone, craft, art and sexuality, together mold.
Your every action, movement and word
are sprinkled with little erotic flakes.
The provokers of nature-bending desires
cling unto your waist like colourful beads.
Chocolate steams coming out of your inner refuge
give sweetness like pieces of sugarcane in coconut water.
Converting every attention towards you
to the longing of a voracious chew.
Heightened temperatures and senses make any soul cough
when seeing your bare carrying soft elements so bold.
Sight of you is honey for passions so tough,
they consume, exaggerate breath sounds and never grow old.
Sketches of you even from amateurs are never rough
and the layers beneath your skin are the purifiers of Gold.
Matured and serious young adults have faith in love
but to your passionate affection, I’m a complete extremist.
Titanic down
Lifeboats adrift
Many saved
Many missed
On the scene " The Carpathia "
To the saved ones
The real White Star
Off she steams
New York ahead
Leaving behind many dead
Pier 54 this saviour docks
As New Yorkers race to flock
To witness survivors of this tragic ship
On her Maiden Voyage did she trip
April 14th, 1912 she shone
April 15th, 1912 she was gone.
I watch the harbor through the falling snow
the sky and sea form one vast, gray tableau
the sun is nothing but a weak, background glow
the scene draws me, as if hypnotically.
Five mile’s lighthouse warnings go unvoiced
its strobes not lashing out, so what’s its point
it stands majestically but disappoints
replaced electronically
A tiny lobster boat makes its landward way
towards the inlet from the wider channel bay
a powdery blizzard is underway
which melts into the mirror sea.
Ospreys still hunt round the lobsterman's pride
snowflakes stain them as they soar and glide
other seabirds huddle side by side
shivering and crowing lividly.
Through the narrows the lonely boat steams
past icy Luddington Rock and East Breakwater's breech
its berths and moorings, within minutes reach
and sadly, it’s time for me to leave.
.
.
Songs for this:
Far Far Away (Charles Tone Mix) [feat. Brenda Boykin] by Tape Five
Hypnosis Theme (feat. Marina Quaisse) by Wax Tailor
Rush your waves of freedom
pulse slow where alcoves bleed
lay gently in the grass of heaven
amongst the humble and the meek
Faint eyes lie down in blazing heat
where the burning fades desire
unfurled taught ropes entwine
and boil steams still streams
Unguide lost thoughts subsided
roam the hallows of my lair
run past fear of another morrow
into me come disappear