Best Striated Poems
One evening, much like any other
striated feathers of pinks, and deepest primrose
colored the clouds with facets of light, tapering inward
Traces of gold between each color, as deep and clear as the sages
The red sun overhead, had grown weary with seasons,
and did not seem to notice that we were mother and child
Whispering sounds of emerald breezes
did not label me wise, nor her naive'
We were two who walked equally, side by side
She lifted her voice,
and spoke with an eloquence I had not heard before,
and it was just as the twilight calls to the stars....
so that they will know just what to do
Young spruces stood bolt upright,
every twig stiff with interest,
and with deep respect at her every word
as if they were watching transformation in tandem,
an exchange so delicately detectable
And in one clinging moment to the other,
one of us was letting go of childhood,
and one was letting go of the child
Both of us looking to the sky for recognition
I watched the sycamore shed, beneath its load of yellow, rust and gold
Letting them quietly go, without remorse
while I did the same
_______________________________________
The horizon cuts straight, long, hard
silently declining less than a degree
like toys across a cartoon’s one frame stillness
a small yacht rocks like a child’s boat
a helicopter putters, a small jet silently
bellies over the sea thundering suddenly
against a graded blue sky
children flying a kite
a plummeting twisting tied bird in its death throes
falling from the warm seemingly red-speckled blue
broken only by a smudge of grey cloud
curling white-tipped waves swirl against rocks
a lonely Zen-meditative crab in their shade
the sand, ridged, striated, pockmarked
small holes left as bubbling miniature blowholes
fine lines webbed around
sand rippled like the sea, waved and cleansed
a poetic transgression? – Neptune’s impost?
the soap-sud foam his in-coming joyful jouissance
the thin receding water a pin-spot bridal veil
and a bridal train, its white scalloped lace edge
pleating, folding, hiding under the next wave
in rippling curving line-patterns
painted desert lay before them
hills with rings of gold and amber clay
few plants, scarce water
just a coyote or roadrunner
on horseback they rode
dreaming of hidden gold
saddlebags filled with mining tools
but not one nugget of treasure
badlands had not been kind to them
but determination still burned
another excavation, another disappointment
“fool’s gold” took on new meaning
blistering day came to a close
time to set up camp
but the striated hills had eyes
Dakota Tribe waited for dusk
arrows flew fiercely
bullets pierced the warm night air
war chants accompanied thundering hooves
intruders not welcome in their land
two weary cowboys
lay dead by morning
adventurous spirits slain
now just statistics in the quest for gold
*October 8, 2014
The tangled sadness of souls lost
Between Heaven and Earth,
Eternally on their way,
Lifting upwards,
Soaring,
Climbing.
Only to feel the ground’s pull,
The unseen ropes.
Trapped in intermediation.
They have left us without leaving,
Departed without arriving,
No sweet Lethe for them,
No afterlife among ethereal
Beauties bathed in eternal light,
No rest in a perfect balance,
Outside the toss of seasons.
So this is purgatory,
This hell of a half-way house.
Stretched out in an
Agony of elongation,
We can sometimes see them
In the wriggle of smoke
In striated clouds.
They are the larks, perhaps,
That dive into the sky and climb
Climb
Climb
Until their frightened tiny frantic panic
Sends them spiralling down
Down
Down
To the thin air over the cruel stubble
Of dead wheat.
Stepping over the threshold
Locating the floor buttons
I press the 3rd floor
~ my brain images still flashing ~
Disfigured long flames curl around
Cherished memories-
Dry spruce branches smoking and crackling
Glowing coals cooking steaks in a fire
Above the crashing waves on the North Shore
Of Lake Superior with mom and dad
Laughing and sipping root beer
Spying a twisted piece of petrified oak
most likely a plank
From an ancient sunken vessel splintered
In the Gale's of November
Loosening the piece from the grips of glistening
Basalt boulders, etching our names and place
Of discovery above striated agates embedded in
Crevices a millennial ago
Proudly displayed on the mantle above my fireplace
Gone
Now
Only precious memories remain
I flash the card lock on my hotel room
Entering
The
Future
2/18/23
in the bright light of day you appeared...
a gilded angel with falcon wings,
you rose up out of the desert sands
and your gentle beauty struck me dumb -
sending a tremor through my soul...
marvelling, pretending an air of studied uncaring
i watched you through a veil of wind-blown hair
and tried to ignore the yearning sighs of the
blood in my veins,
and the keening of a heart that was broken -
that, seeing you, healed briefly -
only to fracture again every time you turned away
you were fatal...
i knew this in my marrow, even as i stared,
riveted, at your cherub's innocence,
suffocating, slowly - sweetly -
in the decadent gold-striated hazel of your
hawk's eyes
you were a killing blow out of the blue,
and once again i was lost...
"angel" i wanted to cry, "angel, ask my name..."
but, naive as Adam, you lost yourself in the bustle
and sand-blasted clamor of your clawed companions...
bereft i hovered, a lonely kestrel riding the chill wind
of your ignorance...
a single tear slid down my cheek;
oh i would have impaled myself on a thousand spears,
if it would only make you run to my side
and scoop me into your bronze embrace
but time slid by and planets shifted -
the day's end drew near...
desert dunes dissolved into the hazy purple of night,
and i was forced to say goodbye;
to pretend love at first sight was just a giddy adolescent joke,
and that your image wasn't tattooed on my heart
in blood and fire...
only then, as my soul swelled with the bitter bile of
disappointment, did you turn and behold
the torment of your beauty written on my face...
boyish, innocent, your eyes clashed with mine -
and melted my core to lava -
and gave my battered heart wings;
clipped wings perhaps, but wings nonetheless...
you smiled, a saccharine-coated admission of acknowledgement,
even as your eyes stabbed cruelly, violated my bruised soul,
and the sun set at your back -
gilding you in demonic flame...
and in a blazing flash, that was it, the die was cast,
reeling, bleeding, i broke our searing gaze;
'angel you may be, my oblivious love,'
i thought as i walked away
'but devil you are for wounding me this way -
and never even knowing my name'
Red Eastern Screech Owl
Ginger moonlighter, striated
in cinnamon spice and cream,
beautifies the stage with backdrop
of an ebony-stream horizon.
He perches alone
like a sculpture carved from
bark. Glossed in ginger, sparkling eyes
penetrate darkness in golden amber
gaze. Spiced wing-span drapes into sky,
as small creatures scamper
in wind song before his flight.
Then, harmony breaks into harsh
screeches of hunter to midnight.
Instinct infuses the senses - a sullen
lowering of head before swooping in
to the hum of quivering fields of grass
and restless rhythms of beginnings and ends.
He descends, crested in darker shades of crimson,
piercing the shield of night, with a sudden
shift from grace to strength.
Outside my window, I see a swift shadow,
like a sprinkling of spice, and then all is still.
I am desperate to know his secrets,
so, I ask him to come, please, teach me his ways.
Teach me, in ginger swirls, how to sway the clouds
and charm spirits watching from the ground.
He never replied, but burrowed deep
into my sleep, a rusty-red, gentle heartbeat.
All is wild in dreams -
One glimpse of a miracle
One glimmer of light
One fleeting moment
calls me to believe. I am convinced, some answers,
we are not meant to receive.
As rain clouds clear striated blue
And sun streaks write their names once more
Upon dawn meadows tranquil green
And all along the distant shore,
On far horizons dappled white
The morning creeps across the sea
On scattered wings of silver lace
That bring the song so close to me.
And every kind of whisper joined
In softly traced creations song
Where life wakes to its sweet refrain
A yearning chorus to belong,
It reaches all around the world
Where children of their lands stand tall
And permeates their pain filled hearts
Each time they hear their Angels call.
And all by itself in a far flung field
A tree sheds whispers of its own
No matter where you live your life
There’s no such thing as being alone,
Yet in the islands of our hearts
We feel like castaways sometimes
So many bottles cast adrift
As we wait for returning rhymes.
Yet when we sleep, life’s reason calms
The furthest reaches of our soul
Within its own embracing arms
To make us waken feeling whole,
Perhaps one day there’ll be no pain
Across the world, just smiles of joy
As heaven’s lessons grow inside
Each man and woman, girl and boy…
Open my eyes on a bloodshot morning
The champion strains his leash
He's howling in pain, but he's howling in vain
The lights on Love Street are red
Tension mounts in my flesh
The rigidity of perplexed anguish
Turgid in my purple soldier's head
Veins popping, striated muscle pink and warm
I whip him, three times a day
Offer him a hand out of spite
I'll be frank: I spank and I spank
This thing's bigger than the both of us
Dawn cracks with magenta bold, painting a striated horizon's view
The couple's tale of love unfolds with promises like radiant sparkling dew
Dawn a new day is breaking
Open my eyes to the beauty
As the Roosters, Cardinals, and Doves eyes open
Tiny crescent moon relishing in its appearing
Birds sweep across the pale-blue morning sky
To the beat of coo-coo-coo
As the Doves communicate to their love
Striated clouds greet the sun
Sun takes the gray away so there is apricot on the horizon
Gold to decorate the way
Clean slate_new dawn great start for this unique day
Fresh air refreshes lungs
Adds glow to all creatures
Gives life as sun clears the stale dark
Opens doors to opportunities for renewal_forgiveness
The sun rises golden
As if it is the gold of royalty
Without its daily visit all of earth would decease
Become an entirely different sphere
What contingency does the dawn of new day bring to you
Open your eyes to the venture
Contest:Sunrise~~Versus~~Sunset
Sponsor: HGarvey Daniel Esquire
Written by:Sara Kendrick
We laughed at each other’s jokes
not more than a full moon passed.
On a slick surface, half-smiles crack
a wintry face. My soul abandons
breath in a lifeless bird’s nest
unsteady on a teetering limb.
Under bare trees, my roots
tangle in decay. Nearby,
February dips a toe into warm
streams cried, connected by
frozen acquaintances. I am
no more than a shiver
in late spring, bits of fallen bark.
Did I call you clever or cruel?
Your burly charm crumbles
like brittle bone. A silver fox
traces my lines, the comings
and goings of my own mistakes,
naivety, iniquities, my slips, stains,
incongruous existence. Winter slaps
both cheeks till summer burns
tender flesh. I called you mine or
whoever I dreamed you to be.
When did I get old, lose
my evergreen glow, my ability
to grow and stand alone?
Your laughter follows, echoes
from mockingbird skies. Love strays
into a thinning wood, more sly
than I. An enemy came disguised,
carried away my better days
with lies, came to chip at shells,
fragment smiles. I wish
for more than days connected
by endless seconds –
acquaintances, pretenses. I sip
black coffee to remind me
of your bitterness. I start days
with a half-smile because
it’s a start. I trace, get-to-know,
embrace my own lines. Dawn lifts
veils, finds my smudges -
my little gifts of
mottled, hand-me-down colors.
We traveled side-by-side
too long on far less
than a quest, more like
our own tour guides on a hike
to nowhere. We wasted time,
called each step a discovery.
You, like a cult, tried to suffocate,
berate, till silence was all I knew
of me. Tomorrow marks
the return of hazel-eyed summer.
Tonight marks the return
of a full moon's bare-backed ride
across striated sky, over my lines,
where I will find I.
(a work in progress)
striated full moon
reminds me of the blood moon
imperfect beauty
11/6/14
© All Rights Reserved
A line of striated cobalt clouds
Lies across the rising sun
Colors separate the image
Magenta so much fun
A yellow illumination
Above the cobalt blue
Revealing early morning's fog
And trees damp with dew
Wispy clouds dance ballerina moves
Mourning Dove's sing love's tune
Roosters rejoice at a new day
Glad the sun arrived so soon
Porch time is limited today
Those chores need to be done
Help me get through every hour
Let there be delightful fun
Dream again in this timeless land
Of beauty, nature created
By wind and rain and scouring sand
Eroding the sandstone plateau
To orange and black striated
Bee-hive domes, enduringly slow
Nature’s eternal beauty unveiled
Soar high above with eagle’s eyes
To comprehend and be regaled
By this majestic mystery
Where no man’s foot print ever lies
And time rebounds in history
Dream again in this timeless land
Nature’s eternal beauty unveiled
Purnululu is the Indigenous name for the Bungle Bungle area in the East Kimberly in Australia.
It is a world heritage listed area of unique Silica and sandstone Bee-hive domes.