Best Stifles Poems
POTW 12th May 2019
Thank you for visiting my third Visual Video Poem, more or less a continuation of my previous poem – ‘The Dreamer’
(I invite you to view the complete production effects and the superb narration by Kelvin on the video above)
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when faith in ourselves will unshackle old beliefs
I LIVE FOR THE DAY belief in The One Spiritual Energy will be redeemed
I LIVE FOR THE DAY that armed conflict against so-called enemies
Is declared pointless and therefore unnecessary will be deemed
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when wizened skin a thing of beauty will be perceived
Our elders revered and adhered
Their words of wisdom respected and believed
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when people will recognise the power of natural curing
And not be influenced by the greedy Pharmaceutical manipulating
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when equality by all will be shared
Power segregation abolished ~ racial discrimination repaired
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when schools will encourage children’s gifts and abilities
Rather than stick to outdated systems that stifles innovation and possibilities
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when Man will adapt to our Earth a more reverent conservation
Our steadfast purpose toward environmental change
And Mother Nature becomes our commitment to her preservation
I LIVE FOR THE DAY …
By Maria Williams
Copyright © Maria Williams
Video arrangement, production, direction
and compilation:
Ron Williams
Video editing, sound mixing, graphics:
Jayne Hartano
(Our very own Lariese.com Art Director)
Voice over:
Kelvin
Music:
Our Future
Composer:
Peder B. Helland
POTW 12th May 2019
Categories:
stifles, hope, inspiration, motivation, uplifting,
Form:
Rhyme
By day she goes about
the weary business of her dreary life:
a housekeeper, bookkeeper, shopper, chef,
chauffer for two active teens, and
hostess of her husband’s dinner parties
is she.
In the middle of her day
she naps,
for in the night. . .
when her work-obsessed spouse
soundly slumbers
and the kids at last are fast asleep,
she goes into the darkness
of the woods
behind her house.
The mask of this woman
falls without a sound
to the leaf strewn ground.
She raises her face to the moon.
In its light, the stripes
of a tigress are revealed!
Her legs feel strong and limber.
That ferocious appetite
for something that she stifles
flees away
as
she
runs.
Among the pines and midst the sounds
of the woodland’s crepuscular creatures
she runs and runs and runs.
She is running after something
she cannot put a name to.
She’s a good woman.
She would never use a bar or night club
as her jungle.
Now - with her tigress face -
swift, stealthy, and strong -
but above all,
not beholden to any body
she is simply free to be.
After an hour of running,
the mask of the housewife
is restored.
Then she collapses, exhausted on her bed,
where she dreams refreshing dreams -
which are necessary -
for tomorrow
she begins again
the weary business
of her dreary life.
10/26/2014; Now used for Skat's A poem you are proud of #3 Poetry Contest
Categories:
stifles, wife,
Form:
Free verse
It's to the corner kids must sometimes go,
or to their room they're sent and kept alone.
Their freedom gone, they stare at walls and groan.
When time is up, they've not one thing to show!
Of poets, there are some who undergo
a similar reaction. They bemoan
their ever being sentenced to the "zone"
of writing in a form that stifles flow.
Like embryos enclosed within the womb
and sucking on their toes, they wait to be
thus freed from "Mother" Poetry (Oh, doom!)
In contrast, I implore you: Keep that key
and leave me here - restricted. I shall bloom
inside this little room. Do punish me!
Categories:
stifles, on writing and words
Form:
Italian Sonnet
Sometimes I think
I wish my heart was made of stone.
That I never loved
and the world would just leave me alone,
because it seems,
when one passes on, the other frets,
so the closer I am, the harder it gets.
The longer I live
the more heartbreak shatters my mind,
but life goes on,
and time hands me further love to find.
So the memory
stifles the pain, but in no way forgets,
for the closer I am, the harder it gets.
I feel so alone
in a crowd that just cannot understand,
for they cannot see
the linking, which continues hand in hand ...
When all walk away
it is I crying, and filled with regrets,
when the closer I am, the harder it gets.
Categories:
stifles, pets,
Form:
Verse
Is my fate to go on living in this impervious place
where everyone dons a mask to conceal his face?
I'm floundering in this troubling tenure of time,
in which no one understands the rhythm of rhyme.
I need to search the deepest corners of my mind
for a region where oblivion is no longer defined.
I hunger to locate a habitat where I can be me,
a sanctuary where my inhibitions can be set free.
Mankind has become such an abstract machine,
all walking to the beat of the same tambourine.
Egotistic are those blind to the needs of others.
A depth of indifference that stifles and smothers.
When did it happen, that it became a world of greed
where everyone wants more than they'll ever need?
Bump into me on the street. No one seems to care.
The oblivion in society is greater than I can bear.
I cling to the prospect of a world in which I behold,
a race of benevolent humans, in stories long foretold,
where no disguise is ever worn to conceal a feeling,
and no secrets are kept for embarrassing revealing.
If there is a place where these human qualities exist,
it's an Eden in which I could more than just subsist.
I wish to withdraw from this callous, obdurate place,
to live where people do not behave as a robotic race.
September 23, 2021
"O" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Categories:
stifles, future,
Form:
Rhyme
Within the creeping shadows,
do you think you can find me?
Before chaos implodes my soul ~
I’m lost amongst childhood
memories, pounded to ash and dust,
clouding my sight,
as silence stifles my screams.
Whilst rivulets of water collect
around cracked soles,
cold liquid rushes
with each word left unsaid,
rising as foreboding
talons scrape against the ballast
stones of despair.
Spiritual hunger gnaws at my insides,
pain filling a closing throat.
O Helios Flare,
burning the crystalline odyssey,
sailing through sinister sapphires ~
I let my muse
spill cues of clemency,
allowing the salt of stillness
to kiss the bronze bones
beneath my quivering skin.
As I taste the f e a r s ,
the trembling turmeric
of the sun I once loved ~
soaked in
t e a r s of the dragon,
for you and for me.
Yet will the green-eyed gales
ever know, ever feel,
the truth I have traced?
The caged nightmare
that bound my gossamer,
leaf-like wings,
taming me to a gruesome game
of bleeding blame and bruises,
as though I were fated
by the blaze of kismet ~
to be the chained dreamer,
drowning in darkness,
choking on unspoken sorrow,
suffocating on splitting stars,
oblivious to the opalescent
shimmers of moonlight
singing within these vain veins…
So tonight, in muted midnight,
I write ~ and I weave ~
swaying to sulfur-laced,
gustless breezes,
all whilst the choir of dead dreams
serenades abounded hopes,
departed in fractured equilibrium.
No longer able to stay
afloat amongst raging riptides
of repressed trauma, I plummet
into the seas of tranquility,
hoping to emerge
b a p t i z e d by the
empathetic estuaries
flowing through heavens...
Categories:
stifles, dark, gothic, imagery, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
If snowflakes set aflame the ground
They touch and wintry winds abet
The flames, would she and I this day
always remain deeply in love?
Yet snow is snow-it’s wet, it’s cold
Its frigid blanket lacks the warmth
That lover’s hearts depend and thrive;
It stifles, smothers all that grows
and extinguishes any fire.
Snow-flames are just a fantasy
An image conjured in my mind
But in my heart our love is true
In any world we two reside
inventible or otherwise.
Categories:
stifles, love,
Form:
Verse
A scarlet sun slips over the edge of Earth;
its light banished until Dawn's rebirth.
And Night stifles a dog's bark
with tunes of a lark;
just before
dark.
At its core,
ebony seems stark;
till fireflies light up the park.
And as Dusk douses feelings of mirth;
a scarlet sun slips over the edge of Earth.
Categories:
stifles, dark, imagery, imagination, sunset,
Form:
Rhyme
Her crimson heart blanches,
broken, her soul aches
never to numb her loss.
When songbirds silently retreat
to tallest treetops, shaken
she lights her solitary restlessness.
On the windowsill, it flickers and flirts
with dusk's sifted air.
Constant burning, I could never imagine this
insatiable, impatient yearning -
for one candle to beacon to one more chance.
She falls, spills over, slumps
into ebony night -
she, steadfast, stifles sobs performing
like in a Shakespearean play,
pretending to want for rise of day.
And I wonder why
does her lone candle shine
for him? Who deserves her heart sworn
to love despite a deceptive guise -
no intent to return, only rumors of his lies?
And I wonder why
I feel a kinship with her shadows,
(not yet hopeless or ready to resign),
they swing, lilting light,
lifting prayers into angelic paths
beyond, and I wonder.
Her blanched heart,
broken soul aches,
and I, a passerby,
wonder why I bleed her loss
and still feel the warmth of her candle.
written 2/15/17
Categories:
stifles, hope, loneliness, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
Nick's descent,
his thoughts neutralized
words that spill out, hobbled
nonsensical
dementia stifles all intentions,
reason eroding
wounded bewilderment
sometimes he slips into Greek
his first language that crosses an invisible
border
self propelled
unexpected
a weightless swim through memory's deepest weeds
once was the warm smell of happiness
once he had his footing
a toughness that knew few limits
warrior worthy,
an emblem of defiance
but things creep beyond the fence of normal
he holds his proud visage still
Athenian brow, marbled composition
complex dynamics to fight submission
a gentle dignity
even as the recognizable world moves
like a mudslide
pressing in
Poem written November 21, 2021 (revised Jan. 1st/22)
Contest: This or That Volume 8
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Categories:
stifles, age, anniversary, courage, dark,
Form:
Free verse
Little sweet Lucy..four years..so small.
Her pink teddy bear.. and her Barbie doll.
Pushed strollers of fun. ..in traipse of malls.
Then a Topsy turvy evil.. stifles her a thrall.
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
Crawls a cruel connive...arrives a sudden sinister.
Wrangles her hard destiny. .lurks a doomed disaster.
Poor Child, ...Leukemia is now her master.
She collapses into the arms.. of a malevolent monster.
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
Wasn't Blood red. .that flowed in our veins?
Her's was a translucent black. ..
only strains..and those pains.
With her curly hair shaved. .the ugly doll sustains.
Syringe of thorns prick. .a rose.. to sick bed detains.
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
Crummy " Chemo" of the 'Crab '. .
creeps on the little dummy.
There's yucky throw of food...
from her aching tummy.
Fear stricken Dad.. and a tear streaked Mummy. .
Her outstretched arms.. say..
"I know you both love me"
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
The helpless girl.. gets weaker and thinner.
She longs for the table...sit together for dinner.
Forlorn she quirks.. in the MRI shiver.
Fighting with Cancer. .her spleen and liver.
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
Painkillers help ..seeing windows and walls.
Doctors are elves... and Fairy nurses call.
To live without dying. .she daily sprawls. ..
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
A desolate girl..she dreams. .playing with dolls.
PLACED THIRD IN SCREWED POETRY CONTEST by Rob Carnack
7th October 2018
A Poem of Reaction Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward.
Categories:
stifles, child, death, destiny, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
Damn this isle of mine...
solitary awkwardness surrounds
stifles, and strangles, and estranges
deranges, debases, encases, entraps
...singing this song lonely crazy
Damn this isle of mine...
coast eroding on every side
an intense sunshine serves to blind...
surrounded by sea, yet cruelly dry
squinting eyes and palate dies
Damn this isle of mine...
Mind gone aimless wander
condemned goner
seeing life that flashed reckless past
and gone...tone deaf swan song
beats on with insensitive rhythm
Damn this isle of mine...
Ever lacking human amenities
conflicting identities murky and sly
my own private Hyde sleuths like private eyes
questioning my reason with childish perspective
this madman my sole companion
this isle will kill me before I die
Categories:
stifles, people
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Am I fated to dwell in this cruel and heartless place
where hands writhe like snakes, concealing a face?
Is there salvation to be found from those horrid things
that dangle grotesque heads from spider web strings?
I've searched the most remote corners of my mind
for an answer to this atrocity, but not one could I find
I long for a human sanctuary where I can be set free
from the groping of cold fingers reaching out for me.
Mankind has become callous, an abstract machine,
plodding about to the beat of the same tambourine.
It's a robotic society, blind to the needs of others
with an indifference that stifles until it smothers
When did this world become one of selfish greed
where everyone takes so much more than they need
Clawing hands that troll from only God knows where
in a pestulant society. It's become more than I can bear
In this bizarre perdition, humans can no longer engage
I must guard my emotions from inside a Draconian cage
I seek death as means to escape this brutal barbaric place
and donning a shroud, I withdraw from this robotic race
Categories:
stifles, conflict,
Form:
Rhyme
She droops her head in drowsy snooze
awaiting for the rise of dawn.
She covets eastern sky pale hues,
as she stretches and stifles a yawn.
She cares that soon ol’ Sol will rise,
her head ascending with his light.
She’ll follow him across the skies
until it’s time to fade at night.
Every blooming flower knows
that jolly orb that passes by.
He smiles and shines for only them
and sings to them from lofty high.
In field, in garden, or in pot,
they wave in silent voices bold.
"Hello!”, “Goodnight!”, and “Worry not.
We’ll soon again your face behold.”
Categories:
stifles, flower, good night, hello,
Form:
Personification
The Echo Of Stars
Galaxies away the echo of stars make her bloom
this rose made of warm inside a heated hand *
Fine tuning her soul to the chime of a thousand crystal pieces
she blasts out and planets resound within her Chalice heart;
Resonating inside her, the peeling bells of Notre- Dame
contain her whole Universe...
Tucked safely inside an IVEAN cloak she lives free
no longer part of this global world.
A star of multiple constellations, she belongs only
to One identifiable light, HIS own.
Evolving endlessly in time she reverberates and rings
entering God's vestibule of heaven without a single sound
Wearing the immortal crown of existence she delves
in, a crowning moment of glory
The mirror shatters in a million tiny pieces and all of truth
arrives, making her whole once again.
“it’s not desire per say but the clinging ~
that stifles soul and stops heart from singing
enlivening silence sets our soul free ~
vibrant in the now, joyful and carefree”
Categories:
stifles, analogy, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse