Best Strange Poems
When I gaze into this realm, I see more than the dazzling array
of golden starbursts floating in a cosmic sea of blue-green-gray,
photoreceptors painting post-Impressionistic explosions of colors,
fibers and dilator muscles servicing your ocular aperture.
I see distinctive melanin patterns of a truly original individual -
a retinal scan of exceptional singularity,
each nebula unique, every supernova peculiar,
no quasar like any other.
I passionately absorb with one brief glance
an infinity of nuance,
an eternity of historical archives,
a heaven and earth of emotional journeys.
I am reading your autobiography, the encyclopedia of you.
I remain a student of your sclera,
a pupil of your pupils,
a Vincent of your irises,
going half-mad with the dizzying vastness
of the starry night within your eyes.
I dreamed one night that I was a little seed
A little future seed, a sprout to a better world
A mother with many children
at least one hundred and four
~
It was a virgin birth
We were all quite alike
brown small shoes and a small parasol of hair
Our mother was so beautiful in her youth
a big beautiful yellow smile
who gave hope for a new spring
She had chosen a garden with lots of sunshine
A flower that makes the impossible possible
where other flowers cannot bear
~
A happy childhood we had
The time had come
We were ready to leave our home
In the wind music
up against the light of heavenly mystery
With the help of the wind
we began a long journey
~
I was a dandelion child
and I carried the title with pride
Although this was a strange dream
When spring comes
~
look for me in your garden
19.02.2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
For the contest :
I Dreamed a Dream Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
2nd place in the contest
And :
Gardens Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
3nd place in the contest
I stood as though reborn on mounded dirt,
which seemed so moist it strangely could assuage
the ache from bowels that howled from so much hurt.
Would ground then be my cure or a mirage?
Enticed, I deeply pressed each foot through soil
till they took root and fixed me to a spot.
My ever-thickening trunk served well to foil
the plots of those who’d cut me. . . . they could not!
My limbs, though mighty branches, could not bend;
stubbornly I fought my transplantation.
I weathered storms that God or man might send,
sightless, living long in desolation.
Self preservation did this much for me-
old loved ones passed and I remained a tree.
This morning I am glued to my TV,
for something has happened in DC!
I’m scratching my head.
Am I dreaming still in bed?
They are PRAISING the President on NBC!
I turn to CNN. It's all the same again!
From ear to ear Don Lemon wears a grin,
“...the President’s magnanimous...
a genius without animus...
In the next election he’s sure to win!"
WHAT?
Surely MSNBC will say something keen.
“The first lady should grace a magazine,”
says Chris Matthews all atingle,
“did you know she’s bilingual?”
The unobjective fawning is obscene!
Schumer and Pelosi toasting with champagne,
are heading Trump's re-election campaign!
The POTUS’s tweets
called, "poetry--like Keats"…
Has the planet gone completely insane?
At FOX News everyone is crying.
They’re shaking their fists and Oh-why-ing.
Hannity’s guzzling booze,
While Tucker sings the blues.
I wonder if pigs have started flying!
Something very strange has happened in DC!
And I am still glued to my TV,
uncertain if I woke
or if it’s all a joke…
The President simply switched from “R” to “D”!
January 31, 2019
Antlers as walking trees
Grass as stabbing knives
Hands as waving chestnut leaves
Books as building blocks
Thoughts as ideas in the wind
Words as cutting pain
Letters as dust whirling in the sun
Twigs as skinny limbs
Wheels as softly spoken o's
Teeth as stabbing swords
Tongue as venomous snake
Eyes as crazy marbles
Nothing, nothing is what it seems
In my feverish mind
***
September 27, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
So strange this land, old and yet young.
Where is this place of tall green trees,
and grey-haired men in unknown tongue?
they must have traveled summer's breeze.
Adobe brick quonset "chalets"
mud-soaked roadways in all the blocks.
WACs and wives and waifs everyday
midst hollyhocks and four o'clocks.
Los Alamos*, this place must be.
A land of Oz 'neath bluest sky.
Where science dealt humanity
a fatal blow, then watched it die.
A perfect paradox is this.
How splendid to contrast the two--
a lovely place/a devil's kiss,
and wisdom sprinkled like the dew.
I left quite soon but still recall
the secrets hidden on each page.
The lilac mountains looming tall,
their perfume of fission and sage.
August 5, 2022
"Terra Incognita"
for This or That, Vol. 13, poetry contest
by Edward Ibeth
*Los Alamos Laboratories, New Mexico, are where the atomic bombs were
created then dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan in WWII.
Life Is Strange
We don’t make a lot of money,
its okay, still getting by.
Taste of bitter with the honey,
life is funny, wonder why.
One day you have the spirit, hope’s
candle, a flame burning high,
all dazzled by the dangling ropes...
This strangled...innocence died.
Though rubbed and soothed, outlook remains
on guard with its shame for you...
‘cause twice is stupid without brains,
so the dreams are very few.
Now spirit seems to wax and wane
like tides on the drifting shore.
Weather marks leave an ugly stain.
a past that’s hard to ignore.
Janet Vick
Love and Pain
Decided to get married
I know it seems strange
For you would have expected
Love and affection to want to tie the knot
After all…they were similar
They socialized in the same set of word families
The artistonyms
Love and passion also wanted
To be forever joined
That everyone condoned and blessed
But, oh, how everyone laughed
At the strange request
Of Love and Pain
To be wed
“What’s wrong with your head?
You two are from different worlds
From antonym slums
You can’t unite
And become one!”
Love held on to Pain
And would not let her go….
He smiled a knowing smile
“There has never been
One of us without the other
We belong…
For only when you truly encounter Love
Will you experience Pain.”
Pain shed a tear
And yet she smiled
“Where Love exists
I hover near…
Have no fear
Our union will produce
Beautiful babies
Love sires Joy
A darling child
Love fathers Peace
And Tranquility, in turn
These are the children we will bear
But do beware
Love can’t survive, without Me
For how would He know
How would He be certain
That he is alive….and well
Were it not for ME!
And so Love and Pain
Were wed
Amongst great fanfare
It was a match made in heaven
For never did they depart
One from another
Love and Pain?
Not so insane
Everyone did testify
That one did not come
Without the other
They were tied together
Inseparable
Nothing could come between them
Except their little babies
The most beautiful mixed babies
That eye shall ever see!
Sweet harmony
Of Love and Pain
Who lived.......companionably ever after!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
"The Daily Mornings of Strange Automatons"
lucid dreams
those clouds convey
the hidden mysteries
of waking chariots
sucked up in the vortex
heliographs flashing
the silver
yo-yo strings
we are like puppets
played for codes
with buried meanings
transcribed animations
staggered routine automatons
covered in words of babel
strange hieroglyphs felt
like braille the feelings
understood misunderstood
spoken mirror images
held to the open caves
of mouths breathing
breath like fog
polishing time
inhale exhale
away
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
A spider traipsed onto my knee
While I was reading in the bath
Though most might jump and scream and flee,
I just gave a little laugh
A baby Daddy Long-Legs!
(Though really, 'twas just a son)
I shooed him back onto his web,
And continued reading on...
*title is a spin on "Strange Bedfellows" ;)
*Lessons in life are funny contest entry
~JustThatArchaicPoet
sijo
Tolerance and empathy between people of opposite stance
could take a lesson or two from the English countryside.
There single hedges fuse the best of holly, hawthorn and yew.
Written for Andrea Dietrich, a remarkable, talented human and sincere, caring friend
I’ve never even met her, we’ve never shared space,
Yet I continuously, tenderly, view her face.
She woke one same ole’ morn, on her same ole’ street
To retire that night with terror lying under her sheets.
She’s always been conscientious, responsible and prepared,
But she’s never dealt with this brand of scared.
It isn’t that bad news had never before appeared,
It just hadn’t carried such fierce shades as it neared.
I feel her frightened ache tremble and I silently shake.
My faith demands I believe He did not cruelly forsake
One who never selfishly sought her own delight
Over her commitments to living proper and right.
It must feel surreal to her that the world is the same
When her life’s been yanked, injured and maimed.
Everything must surely seem foreign and strange
As she struggles through fears web just to maintain.
Rudely, she was handed a nightmare wrapped in unfair
That I desperately wish my emotional sum could repair.
Carefully listen to your inner voice
The still, small voice of your divine calling,
It is within you, whispering to you
Guiding you like your mother’s hand --
Through this strange land.
Some call it conscience, others spirit--
This inner sense of what is morally good
Speaking in glorious, everlasting presence,
Holding you in your God’s hand --
Through this strange land.
Every man, woman, and child possesses
This inner voice which guides us in truth,
Leading us along the path to eternal light
Be careful not to walk in sinking sand --
Through this strange land.
When we fail to listen to our inner voice
We slip into a danger zone of disobedience,
We stumble alone into an unknown darkness
And walk apart from our spiritual band --
Through this strange land.
Let the spirit, your inner voice, be your guide
Daily seeking guidance and sustenance
Leading you in the ways of righteousness
Acknowledge your walk is divinely planned
Through this strange land.
FIRST PLACE WINNER (TROPHY)
written April 9, 2022
for "Soul Betrayal" poetry contest
sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
Hello, due to creative exhaustion I have invited three parallel versions of myself from different parallel universes to entertain you with poems tonight. Please enjoy…
Dave-2:
The leaf drops slowly in the rain,
Settles atop a fern’s broad frond,
But here alas it cannot stay,
A gust of the wind blows it on,
Into a stream that rolls along.
Dave-3:
Plunging to a fern,
The wind will not let it rest,
A wet home awaits.
Dave-4:
There once was a leave that fell down,
Could not make it safe to the ground,
Got stuck on a fern,
The wind, it did turn,
Then in a small creek it was drowned.
-Hey, that was kind of fun.
-Yeah, but I’m surprised Dave-1 talked us into this.
-Surprised? Why would you be surprised?
-We’re all poets here.
-I know, but, you know….a limerick?
-Yeah?
-Well come on, they’re like the greasy cheeseburger of the poetry world.
-Greasy cheese—oh, like haiku is better?
-They’re pretentious eastern crap, is what they are.
-Oh please, anybody can do meter and rhyme, but brevity—
-Is what failures claim when they can’t rhyme.
- all you want, I’m a better poet than me!
-Wait, you-me, me-me, or he-me?
-He-me?
-I don't know. 'Ye-me?'
-That’s not how you use ‘ye.’
-Shut up, I have an English degree!
-So de we-me! And you should’ve said ‘thee-me.’
-‘Thee-me?’
-Oui!
-Stop trying to distract with word games. I hate it when I do that!
-Fine! Fact remains, I’m a better poet than either of me.
-Please, with a Haiku like that you’re no better than a free-verser!
-Oh crap…
-What did you just call me?
-I called me a free-verser. What’s me gonna do about it?
-I’ll kill me, you son-of-a-b!tch!
(Sound of fighting)
Uhm, sorry folks, this was a mistake— (Sound of breaking glass)…and shouldn’t have been attempted. Good night.
It was never exactly pinpointed
for only the African Crowned Eagles knew of the twisting paths
to its misplaced place.
In that crystalline chamber, upon that gold dusted floor
were found much thumbed volumes of all Nietzsche’s
works,
a penguin in a glass bell,
a twig cut from the tree of Life one million years from now'
A windblown leaf but only the wind that blew it.
a silver cuspidor, a ancient helmet made of Pittsburgh steel,
a Neolithic moonshine still,
a copy of the illustrated Karma Sutra,
several debunked words of wisdom from Aristotle,
an Olmec Letter Opener.
and a stuffed tufted rat.
The find has been carefully transported to the Smithsonian
where neuroscientists are trying
to solder together all these missing links.
The NYT has declared these odd finds
to be ‘Russian disinformation,’
but ‘Bokonon’ the mythical poet-sage of the Republic
of Never-Never Land
has blessed each artifact and declared them
to be far too strange not to be absolutely true.