Best Strobe Poems
Steps in -
What din!
Rat squeaks
Floor creaks
Let loose,
Ghost boos
Blood Pool -
Bats drool!
Strobe lights,
Snake bites
Suspense -
Live Fence!
Zombie -
Crombie*
Cat's eyes -
On mice
Closed space,
Lined face
Blue slime,
Red grime
Skulls stare -
BEWARE
Quiver,
Shiver!
Loud cry...
Mouth dry
Our horde
Spots board: ....
Your end,
My friend
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Strobe lights loud music
silver glitter balls
reflective tiny stars
dot the dance floor hall.
She was grinding and pumping
body toned tight and fast
she was the centre of attention
her choice her last dance.
She expertly glided
up and down the polished pole
her red satin outfit
simply amplified the show.
As she flawlessly moved
to the chants of the men
drawing into herself
shone a dazzling grin.
Becoming one with the pole
giving it her very all
this was her last song
head high standing tall.
As she smiled and waved
searching deep within her core
for this one final bow
were loud whistles and roars.
She quickly grabbed her outfit
running to the door backstage
in the comfort of her robe
kissed a picture daughter Paige.
I did this for you
my sweet baby girl
for college bound you are
with the money I have earned.
The men cheered loudly
she reached her last goal
turning from the mirror
freely flew her soul.
reworked 08-26-2016
10,000 people gathered on the beach that day
as he entered the stage wearing sandals he'd say,
"WOW! look at YOU come to lend a hand"
Then he grabbed his guitar to strike up his band
Ten thousands strong held their drinks in the air
in hopes to raise money for the Gulf Oil scare
The Sun was his strobe light, speakers the same
Today is the day they all shout Jimmy's name!
But far above the crowd the choppers did film
while boats bobbed at sea just looking at him
for he'd travelled the world though mostly by boat
His love of the Sea meant a stick that could float
Yes there were women, wine, stogies and beer
along with his reefers he'd never known fear
Though quite famous his words as you see,
"If the phone doesn't ring. . . . it's me!"
-------------
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wVHKBMrPi7U
She sent me a message while I was walking Mr. Reilly,
She said “Look up, and tell me what you see.”
I thought I would impress her with my poetical ways so I answered,
Bus zooming by…
Brown leaves on the sidewalk ahead,
And a shadowy figure that Reilly and I will soon pass,
The smell of the Indian bakery warming my insides on an autumn evening.
“I love fresh bread,” she said, “What do you hear?”
Crisp slate grey sky,
And the wind gently shaking loose more tan and brown leaves,
And cars sliding by,
Each with its unique sound of tires on asphalt,
Creating its own steady hush.
She then messaged, “You’re very good at this,
I’m going to read that again!”
but I went on…
A few drops of cool rain,
The rain here, even when it’s pouring,
Seems to be made of a lighter liquid.
It’s not the hard thick drops of a West Texas down pour,
And it’s almost disappointing when
I don’t have the residual layer of dirt on my windshield after the rain,
Almost.
They say there is thunder in the springtime,
But I suspect they don’t know what real thunder is,
Here in California.
In the West Texas springtime,
When entire sky is filled with all the mountains,
That are missing from the landscape,
You can feel the power and,
The threatening posture of the storm,
But you take up the challenge and face the lightning,
And it fills you with excitement,
And if you have a lover,
It is during these storms that your fantasies come true.
Silver flashes across your lover’s skin,
Passion filled faces caught in the strobe of lightning,
And the pounding rain beating on the windows.
The mix of cold wet air,
And the sweaty heat of deep kisses and breath.
They don’t know what they’re missing here,
In California,
But I do,
And maybe someday I’ll have her.
Michael F. Lewis
11/29/2012
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ToCr_Xo1LPk
Aiming for a perfect range, I click
in strobe-like effect, feeling the pumping
sensation in the blood: the twitch on my
hands peaks until the frames connect
to this heart on days when my pupils
release a thrill of wonder in a field
trailing miraculously on nature’s expanse.
And life’s fleeting motions are tucked into
a scenic romance never to be seen in same way.
Yet, as flashes of instances are
arranged in a collage of dreams ,
images portraying those I loved, encountered,
and never known … but
tattooed on skin of memory’s seasons.
Contest: SandyIvyDavis Viewing Life Through a Lens
by nette onclaud
There’s rain in my brain,
A pitter patter on the old grey matter,
Cats and dogs in the cerebral cogs,
A shower dampening my mental power.
There’s precipitation in my imagination,
A cloud collision in my vision,
A deluge in my centrifuge,
A tidal surge has overwhelmed my optimistic urge,
A tsunami is rampaging through my spiritual harmony,
A lighting strobe just struck my frontal lobe.
There’s a vortex in my cortex,
An eddy in my heady,
A blizzard in my gizzard,
Hail in my vapour trail,
Sleet on my feet,
Snow on my big toe
Making me feel low.
I’ll pop a pill and rest my head
Upon a bed of feather
And when I wake I’m hoping
For bright eyes and better weather.
A light under a bucket, yes..I've hidden there
been the squeaky wheel that got the oil
acted uncaring, had my ups and had my downs
lifted folks on my shoulders
acted the sage, acted the clown
hope to fill a stage before I'm over...
from between closed lids
iris's roll as day breaks pane
lashes move aside
Questioned the right, questioned the wrong
been a sanctuary to many..
straddled Goliath like the colossus of Rhodes
there's an owl-handled knife near my bed.
seeing halfway round
trust in your ability to turn
who are you
Fall into me now, soft and warm,
come into my light for you know, I've some of yin
I've some of yang and light peeps out you know.
You new born chicks who strobe in the light
remember, the dark can not hide you..
Your soul your chi, the light of God will
aid and let ALL find you.
*Free Verse and senryu
My
eyes are
sorely touched
with the harsh flash
of puce and pink-red
exhaust fumes leak lazy
from the line of matchbox cars
clogging humanities sewers
lungs gasp at green tires lay rubber
like the wail of infants taken from tit
dangling arms wave the air seeking entrance
to the already well come fill’d shunt
sighing rubbing my lids lights strobe
just past the seared surfaces
of my bruised retinas
my feet throb swollen
now depressing
releasing
pedal
push.
One may be "Touched" in physically, mentally or spiritually.
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Nothing has a reason to begin with
It is a party of its own with no clothes on
Formulaic intricacies grow wild in mushroom clarity
Causality set in motion by music sounds out loud
Its grasp far reaching, weightless, astounding
On a line of invisibility destiny stretches in a yawn
Violins have no strings to be attached to any song
Held fast in times illusion
Dancing is forbidden in the dark
Freedom is an extension, not exactly hair
Randomly receding in all directions
Time is unwinding on tomorrows blink
Strobe-lights are an afterthought of spinning on
History sinking fast with every drink
Coming to festivities with one shoe missing is wrong
The black one or was it a sneaker
Let me think
Music laughs at circumstances quite like this
But changes tempo as it wishes
Surrounds circles so circular and round
Directs them to their proper corners square
Orgasmic at the edges of forgetfulness in fun and laughter
Circles are not square
Not yet!
The evening is young and has no children
Light the cigarette with caution
Don't forget the curtains
For no other reason than attention to be friendly
Tip the waitress when the party ends
Logic dictates that we leave before we came
That way we can go and never come again
Music
is a sweet spring shower for romantics.
For the weary, it is a soothing stream
flowing sublimely through one’s soul.
It is a pond or lake, reflecting joy.
For those in search of thrills,
its waves pound frenetically to lighthouse strobe lights
across an ocean’s roar in the night.
Like water, music takes many different forms.
Find your pleasure; let it wash over you!
For Geraldine Taylor's
the 'Poetry Anthology - Music Theme' Poetry Contest
Toroidal heart and bliss bubbles bursting
in thousands noiselessly at head ovoid,
ushers rapture for which we were thirsting,
being by ego no longer decoyed.
As a sublime fragrance suffuses form,
we are both in this world and in heaven,
enveloped by a magnetic bliss storm,
soma nectar drips through chakras seven.
When jarring life notes deflect attention,
bliss remains but its attributes dilute,
prompting us to restore meditation,
that our soul presence within may reboot.
Deepen oh hermit, deepen each bliss strobe ~
Layer by layer, ignorance disrobe
07-November-2022
Written: July 30, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
************
The carnival dazzles—
mirific mosaics of midway magic
woven with whimsical calls from barkers
who strut boldly on boards
slick with popcorn oil and neon promises.
I, the aficionado of the absurd,
immerse myself in spectacle masquerading as
celebration,
a Falstaffian extravaganza,
a sockdolager of strobe-lit sensation,
where circus rages as horology gone amok—
clockwork chaos camouflaged as joy.
Here, even dyspnea dances:
lungs tight from laughter,
feet blistered on the boards
where the locals jive
to tunes sung in xenoglossia tones—
languages lost or learned
in the jamboree of jest.
We picnic beneath paper moons
and eat Easter-colored candy
as if Lent were long forgotten—
in this nefarious fair,
Time adumbrates indulgence.
I stumble past scantling booths
where prizes lean akin to broken teeth
and prayers cast unanswered
in the apiary buzz of sugar-rushed view.
One iconoclast offers nepenthe in a cup
with carbonation and broken fortunes—
And in that moment,
an epiphany unfolds as a palimpsest,
laughter scrawled over ancient pain,
glee grafted onto grief.
There is no paucity of pain here,
only its parody—
a meritorious mimicry
for those who can bear the weight
and yet select the lighter path.
A temporary guest of the night,
I own nothing,
but borrow every flicker of joy—
every flick of flame from the festival's fire,
every tune from the gala laughter.
Even illeism fades in festal light,
where I am not the observer,
but the observed,
not just the poet,
but the poem itself,
drawn toward this lodestone of longing.
And at last, beneath Ferris wheel stars,
I whisper into the abyss—
a cognate cry to the cosmos
_The feast is fleeting
but oh, how glorious
the festival finished?
Click
In the dimming light of her bedroom,
a child sits facing the wall in her bad chair.
She has to go potty, but she doesn’t dare.
So she stares at the wall in the gathering gloom.
Click
Her mind is swirling with fear as the curtains billow in the wind,
lightning streaks the night sky like a strobe light out of sync,
clipped exposures of the little girl shaking on her chair,
waiting for what’s coming with the thunder.
Click
The doorknob turns . . .
A wedge of light blinds her.
The witch stands outlined in shadow on the wall before her.
The child is no longer there, gone in the wisp of a blown out candle.
The wind and wickedness pursue her into a vileness she cannot bear.
Click
Circling in the broiling sky
is the nightmare that haunts her dreams,
Her little legs move as though caught in an undertow, dragging her back . . .
Screams choke in her throat.
The evil comes,
riding its burning broom on the thunder - screeching her name like a banshee.
Click
Screams pierce the night.
She promised herself she wouldn’t this time,
but the knife embedded in her back –
it’s the same every damned time.
Click. Flash.
Thirty years have passed and she has beaten the dream.
The spectre has left her and she is no longer afraid to sleep. . .
. . . except when the curtains billow in the wind
and lightning streaks the night sky
screams pierce the night.
This moment I've been awaiting for a number of years
To see ones heroes live see them crunching their gears
I'm on my way to Glasgow with workmates and friends
To finally see live their fantastic tracks they have penned
Anticipation now flows into the concert arena we await
It's the buzz, the hungered wishing, terrific time trait
The moments now close for the lights start to dim
For this three piece on song a most wonderful vim
Strobe lights, Bass intro, my awaiting now starts
To us fans they're our hymns soon singing our hearts
Shouting cheering hearing the first vocals now voiced
To the chorus now reached such incredible rejoice
Mellow chords to lead guitar which slice through the air
Decibels so loud for we simply sing and just stare
Drum solo so immense it's orchestral to our ears
So energetic melodic sublime, to magnificent tier
Thanks, plaudits are shared, encore after encore
It's not just their lyrics, it's their quite beautiful scores
This moment I've been awaiting for a number of year's
To see ones heroes live, I have to admit there were tears
.
A journey landing in December
Road to the Moon of wonder
Trip of four to remember
East of Eden fonder
Milestone is in the offing
Instilled dream becomes a happening
Strobe lights showing and playing
Second-scheduled mission, but first crewed...