Best Streets Poems
to my kindred soul
...i know you are out there
somewhere on the other side
across cobblestone streets
that scorn my feet, like hearts
on the pathways and wrong turns
of so called love
i've been kissed
but not by your lips
nor with the same passion
as the skies at dawn
i've been wrapped
in the contours of arms
much like the bitter winds
of autumn's sweeping nights
shivering beneath the touches
that left me stranded
on the journey towards you
i hold you in my dreams
on the other side of streams
where tears trickle over the rocks
and the dams hold me back
i searched for you
beneath the lambent moon
through shadows on alleyways
always losing sight
in the harrows of night
i've danced
silently with death
in silhouettes
upon mind's walls
always breaking free
running away, lost
on these sidewalks
of chalked thoughts
yet sometimes i wonder
had i held his hand
would he have led me to you
in another place
another time
does fate await our destiny
on the other side of life...
i still search for you
down cobblestone streets
through the passages of time
as it shifts beneath my feet
stranded, alone
until we meet....
inside my dreams
Written 10/25/2019
Best free verse July-December 2019 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
Entered December 8, 2019
Streets of blood
She stood upon the terrace high
streets of blood below
The gate left open in the night,
a dark sky threatens snow
With swine and pearls running free
her bed sheets fought the wind
A tear drop fell her worried eyes
at hate now once again
Of drawbridge wars in endless fight
to stones of castle keep
A single rose a’ bloom this dawn
as mothers come to weep
For sons of father’s destined fall,
these followed footsteps bare
Along the streets so narrow, long,
where death becomes aware
“Enough!” she shouted far and wide
“This fighting now shall end”
“Take your swords and hateful spite,
do not return again”
And lifting high her amulet
upon a staff of wood
She chanted as the stone did glow
this morning where she stood
“Of peace, let all be felt this hour
Thy breath of saddened greed
Be gone, be gone, oh beast of war
No longer doth thou feed
Ye shadows o’er a nightfall mist
Lest blood befall your hand
Beyond this tree lined sacred place
Be gone from this our land”
When then a mighty wave did flow,
the streets were cleansed of fear
And there beyond horizons call
the sunrise did appear
And where once sat a single rose,
one thousand buds did grow
Of crimson red and silken gold,
the sweetest fragrance flow
Mothers hugged their children close
as loudly trumpets blared
The bloodied streets now white with snow
and love by all was shared
But there within the canyons lurked
cast eyes of beaded red
“I shall return to take this place
O’ ye who think me dead”
“To once more fill yon streets with blood
of this ye can believe
No matter what the masses want,
know this, I shall not leave”
There is one kind of beauty in a morning walk illuminated by the moon..and yet…there is a different kind of beauty walking after a rain…when all the streets are wet.
The streets take on a glow…one you never see at noon…the shadows seem to shimmer in light reflected from the moon.
There is a freshness in the air…a coolness in the breeze…as it carries with it raindrops it has shaken from the trees.
Still enough raindrops remain upon the trees…those unable to take flight…giving the trees a feeling of Christmas…as they sparkle in the night.
Age seems to fade away…as you breathe the misty air into your lungs…as you splash around in puddles…like you did when you were young.
If you listen to the crickets…the owls…the nightingales…you find it difficult to decide…if you are hearing more sounds than usual…or if they’re just amplified.
You stop a moment…look up…and give thanks…grateful you’ve been allowed…to watch the moon, the stars….the planets…playing hide and seek among the clouds.
And you pause as you’re walk is ending…trying to remember everything because you don’t want to forget…
the sights
the sounds
from your morning walk…
when all the streets are wet.
At first, remember how we were
skeptical strangers?
Then, by mystical magic, we
melted into close friends!
I hope we meet in the golden streets
of heaven!
Where our friendship never ends!
11-15-2021
Panagiota Romios
Trauma Center
With fifty-nine tears, I stare at the phone, wanting to
understand. I had your voice in my hand. Intense pain now
washes through our decade’s bones. I must be able to rinse it,
cleanse it and restart with a stable heart. Always layers of hurt
from you. Now there is another, my lost Brother.
We may never meet again, not as siblings or as friends, yet you
chose to bring our last call to a painful end! Distance and age
whisper chilly to me of a certain possibility, this call could be the
last call of all. I wonder, do you feel that, too? Does this sad truth
also shadow you?
In life’s darkness, two stars shine on; one is our Dad, the other,
our Mom. Dad could not take your constant rift of frightening dread
or bear your street life, so he mentally buried you in his head. Mom
could not handle her first born living so forlorn, her maternal heart
and head were torn. She could not sever the bond, so her enabling
continued on. Neither parent was right or wrong. Unbearable pain
made them desperate to survive your heartbreaking song.
I never knew what to do, but I sought and fought to do it right.
I would help, I would insist, but true help, you would resist. Each
approach to coax you towards a healthy life ended with me tripping
through your dark light. I’ve abandoned my hopeful persistence
by accepting that I may never have brother-relief in this existence.
For years my insides have churned as I daily pray for some informative
word about your wellbeing. I've even called morgues in your state
to learn if you were still among the living but no news ever shaped.
I’ve had a lifetime of watching you fill your own spaces by selfishly
passing thru daylight. Rather than climbing up to achieve a healthy
need, you've always sat aground and caused yourself to bleed.
Whether you’re in jail or living drugged on the streets, loving you has
never known relief. I gave you my all, walked all your dark halls.
Can’t we now have peace?
Please bro, on some near tomorrow, borrow another phone. Call me
and let us be the best of us, let us share love to enhance what is
left of us. Look to your heart and grant what I want, one more, last
call that love may be shown when next your voice is in my phone.
Do I dare look at you when I walk these streets?
Chase your shadow as it crawls under my feet?
For I have walked my way through
These pleasant, summer nights
Trailing any trace of you in amber
Street lights.
Hearing the laughter of men and women
Drunken behind bars, their obliviousness
Billowing with the smoke of cigars
And once again I begin to wonder
In these thoughts that shatter, asunder
Of how unvoiced these nights have become.
The scent of scones melting in tea
The sugar, the beach, the creamed coffee
How foolish do I ought to be?
How much emotion becomes too much for me?
And the sun that strokes the clouds at sea
And hides its rays amongst them-
I watch… as all this beauty encircles me.
My eyes see not the glamorous dream
That has been haunting the lives of many it seems
The loveliness of love and its glimmering gleam
The word that is only word
That dream that is only dream.
For I have seen it on all these smiley faces,
Hurried looks, and warm embraces
Can’t you see?
How we all have been entangled in one giant
Web of emotion?
Is there ever a place between Wordsworth’s
Daffodils and Poe’s Raven?
I walk these streets listening to a busker
Play his harmonica-
As I flip a coin into his flipped hat,
I wonder
How different we are, him and me
Or are we?
Restricted we are to language and time,
Enslaved in memory, engaged in rhyme
How much easier it is to think of you and me
Rather than the misleading amounts of
Separating land and sea –illusory-
I observe and am observed as I walk these
Streets, and I feel I know nothing of
Neither you nor me.
They walk the streets of loneliness
Lost without direction
Doing whatever it takes
To pay for that next injection
Bodies thin and dirty
Sickness in their veins
Only thoughts in their mind
Is getting that drug again
Sadly, lost in their own minds
Mental health out of control
Somebody’s child or loved one
Broken no longer whole …
Gun shots rang out but no one hears.
A life comes to an end but no one fears.
A casual habit now a sin that in prisons the soul.
Another life settling for less than their predestined goal.
How can a child once filled with love grow into a person filled with so much hate?
Taking as one pleases because earning it means to wait.
By not having someone of worth to follow darkness fills the mind
Until greed, lust, and violence are the only things found to occupy their time.
Even when brick walls and locked doors to cells is all the eyes see
The mind still wanders back to life in the streets.
Where a gun and a cold heart is all that is left of your life
And the only things for which you are remembered is struggle and strife.
City streets spew fire on sunburnt July day.
Dabbing sweat from brow, I meld into paved sea.
Mick cries out "Angie" from quaint corner café;
slowing steps, I search his stripped-bare poignancy.
Strangers strut in sync with street’s allegro beat.
Pigeons peck concrete, hungry coos offbeat.
Sullen faces fall, diverting weary eyes.
Souls emit loneliness lost in sad goodbyes.
Exhaust squeezes my chest with each poisoned breath;
choking on my tears, I smell acrid deceit.
Amid spinning wheels, a stranger till my death.
On wide city streets, crowds rush by in defeat.
A restless, hazy sun sinks to moonless night.
Senses become keen with city’s fading light.
Midnight hour comes to call, taunting my dark heart.
Angel wings span streets as nameless child departs.
Dark Night – City Streets
A dark night on city streets
soft yellow glare of streetlights
outlining slow creepy things.
Scents of cooling kitchens
and boiling excitement
tickled the deepening thrill.
A rising tremor of frightful glee
slinking through the streets
mocking the shadows lies.
City streets crawling with anticipation
window shades peeked through
doors held ajar in preparation,
For they would come – as always
on this, their night, utter again
the monsters mantra – Trick or Treat.
Flow in wicked waves of want
seek the lowly sustenance
of the sticky sweet tribute.
Short, weary legs of demons
tire easily - and slowly
retreat to comfort of warm lairs.
Window shades are straightened
doors closed and locked
streetlight shadows calmed
As monsters – cleaned and preened,
hugged and nuzzled in their nests
sleep, and dream, of Halloween.
10/24/2015
The words that follow are not so grand
Because of The Streets on our countries land
By day they are light, lived and free
As night fades they change you'll see
Community spirit grows and sprouts
As the evening draws, neighbourhoods ooze doubts
The person you seen hours before
Is not the person you will come to adore
Gangs pimps in a darkened craze
Can't stand the light in a living way
They need the shadows to hide their souls
To capture the innocent in their putrid folds
Prostituted girls, our sisters and nieces
Become use able pieces
Nephews and sons, given guns
Do a deed and become one
The slime that rule, cowards are they
Hire big boys to do their say
Taken in, by dollars and booze
Where once they were someone
What respect they lose
Why should the neighbourhood
Not be able to roam
In daylight or night
After all it's their home
The scum all around
Should disperse and flee
Out of The Streets
Of our towns and cities
If it's ever a road you have to go down
We should have the right to clear our town
Vigilante or law, what ever to be
Its our right
For The Streets to be free
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life.php
Walking the streets of Dayton
Warning my city of the Lord’s soon arrival
Explaining the Mark of the Beast
And tribulation survival
What’s it gonna take to escape the things coming upon this earth?
I’ve been hearing stories about this time coming since my birth
All ears are peeled
Curiosity is peeked
The citizens of my city don’t want to be deceived
They don’t know who the Antichrist is
But they sure don’t like the President
Whenever his name is mentioned a sour look comes upon their faces
No matter who I speak with…
The Veterans, the widows, the elderly…
They say, “HELL NO! YOU’RE NOT GONNA PUT NO CHIP IN ME!”
They’re flaming mad and speak of rights and guns
This is my cause
This is my city
Their blood is on my hands
I must do what I am called to do
I must walk the streets of my city
Everyone must do their part to pave the way for the Messiah
Everyone must tell the masses what will happen if they are left behind
Don’t keep the truth from them
Let them have the raw facts
The U.N. troops are already here and they have their survival packs
The world leaders have their bomb shelters
And the little people have Jesus
Spread the gospel and love my city so they may escape all this
Destruction is coming, Dayton! Get your hearts right with the Messiah!
He is the only hope we have for tomorrow
He is on the other side of the sun rise
Repent and live holy
Surrender your will to the King
Get down upon your knees my neighbors
Make him your everything
What’s the Antichrist gonna promise you?
A drink of fresh water? Temporary shelter?
He only cares about killing off the human race quickly
And putting us all ten feet under
Repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ
Be as wise as the Serpent and escape all these things!
Gwendolen Rix
9-30-14
He left home when he was barely thirteen,
Said he got tired of getting beat, by an old man that was down right mean.
Said it might have been different, had he done something wrong,
He said shoot I ain’t perfect, but I know when I don’t belong.
He said momma left when I was just nine,
She said she couldn’t live with a man who wouldn’t choose her over moonshine.
And after that it was hell to pay,
Cause he’d get drunk dang near every day.
So I kind of figured I’d get out while I could,
Cause the life at home sure weren’t no good.
It’s been pretty rough out here, but I’m finally learning my way,
Picking up cans and bottles pretty much makes up my day.
Well I’ve been on my own for a little over three years now,
Don’t know what happened to my old man, don’t really care anyhow.
Went by the house once and it was all boarded up and had police tape draped cross the door,
You can bet I wasn’t going back in there that’s for sure.
Shoot I appreciate the money, what’d ya call this an interview,
Shoot mister there’s a lot of kids out here like me, and this was the only thing they
could do too.
On the streets of lively Mumbai,
Close to the sandy Juhu,
They serve Chaat and Masala Chai,
To make your heart go Yoohooo!!
The English, Locals and Arabs!
Jews, Africans and Chinese!
Gather to the aroma of the herbs,
And to relish the Indian Cuisine!
Vending stalls have lined the route,
As the natives and tourists wander in,
Flanked by cycles, bikes and touts,
Amidst the music and the din.
This mela of colours and clothing,
Will make a rainbow look white,
travellers in town need updating,
And wear colours that are bright!
It is dusk, and it is getting dark,
the street lights are coming on,
Be warned of strangers in the park!
Hide your wallet, or they will be gone!
Watch the trash, the puddles at feet,
And the stray dogs at your shin,
At every shop a smiling greet,
“Try our food! Please step in!”
Unique, unique is this ensemble,
On the streets of sweet Mumbai,
Where petty human irks crumble,
In the stream of gastronomic joy!
See the Mexican laugh with the Texan,
Over the Goan seafood platter,
Even the Arab and Jew have taken,
A place at the table together!
The leaders at the United Nations,
Who have failed to make a deal,
Must learn from this congregation,
How problems are solved at a meal!
UN policies, treaties at the table,
Have had no effect on peace,
But sandy Juhu is ever so stable,
For people eat and mix with ease!
Let these vendors in Mumbai, Juhu,
Take the lead in creating the peace,
Let their Chai make you go Yoohoo,
And hatred in the world will cease!!
On the streets of lively Mumbai,
Close to the sandy Juhu,
They serve Chaat and Masala Chai,
To make your heart go Yoohooo!!
unsettling
disquieting
prompts
fevered
dreams
close to
dance across
almost nothing
intangible
immaterial
yet
extensive
varied
a sense
of darkness
the
eternal
feel
of the
sporadic
yet
peace of mind
talks
walks
alone
with
my
thoughts
in quietness