Best Suppressing Poems
~Perfect Rain~
I can see!
All the tribulations around
A rage against the burning wind
Nobody hears the crackling sounds in my voice
Everybody avoids feeling the smoke hidden within
A rain so deep it burns all the enamel off my skin
A rain that cut my soul in half
Two-piece that will not entwine or merge down a dragon path
I feel this eternity has no ending blaze
Trigger happy rain, extinguishing a bonfire around my rose.
I will sleep under the artillery stars tonight
With the perfection of my fiery crystal lava teardrops
Washing the ashes of my face,
Suppressing the overwhelming fear
Knowing no one will ever, "BLAME IT ON THE RAIN!"
As long as the torch keeps loading another artillery round.
~*~
PD
4/12/12
Trashed #3, sponsor, Broken Wings
Date Trashed November 2nd, 2015
Categories:
suppressing, art, deep, earth, fire,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Look closely, feel the harmless heat
enveloping black-diamond
petals in the glistening
garden of glossy geraniums.
There, sprouts rosemary dreams
from an untouched silhouette,
eager to be seen beyond
her perfumed pigments.
Her universe was sprinkled
with starry streams
of gleaming rays,
as she swayed to symphonic
serenades filled with hazel dust.
They may gawk with greedy
glares as wide as the night sky,
marking her with lecherous
objects that only please
shameless eyes.
She was never
in need of a sixth sense
to understand iron glances
that travel in nefarious packs,
with sugar-burnt hunger
washing all over her
unblistered flesh,
judging her concealer
as a manipulative facade,
seeking uncalled-for affirmations
that she never solicited,
misconceiving her thin lines
of red-river lipstick.
Her summer physique allowed
no consent for invasive intrusion,
yet carnal cravings become
unwelcome toxic trespassers.
Their immoral thoughts
believe shallow words
give them wanderlust wings,
while sinister stars in their sky
label her a soulless mannequin,
objectifying her
cinnamon-glazed skin,
sun-kissed hair,
and pecan-powdered~
caramelized voluptuous flare,
with their vehement
voracious desires.
Swinging penetrative thin blades
of opinions from miles,
oblivious to the fact that
she is the sanguine strength
that strolls in silver silence
across spiky swards,
suppressing the pain her
bones have endured with
every whiskering
whistle they wolfed.
There, if the mauve moon and
crystalline constellations look closely,
they would find versatile
mirrors of meaning
reflecting the times
she parades a smile too
comfortable to wear,
for they have concluded
her bed to be a shrine
of blenders and
overflowing thickened blades,
cursed by the biological
sins of Adam's ancestors.
Categories:
suppressing, deep,
Form:
Free verse
When the words were intense
and the soul no longer
conceded to comfort
Thoughts got blind
and the heart beats in tension
Silence
*****
Absent are ardent
words
an inability to fill gaps
meanings suspended
seasons slowly stretching
Silence
*****
A thin veil
hiding behind
a thick weight
suppressing many a
sound
Silence
*****
Deeply delving into a void
seeking the significance
of a still word
trying to explain an unexplained
world
Silence
*****
Observing, absorbing
the aura of silence
touching its vibrant
presence
perceivable, palpable
Silence
*****
Pausing in peace
treasuring tranquillity
allowing the soul
to such a state admire
sinking in a serene space
Silence
Categories:
suppressing, beauty, emotions, heart, heartbroken,
Form:
Free verse
Regally it stands, the staunch guardian of her lonesome heart,
Reminiscing in revelries of yore, treasured memories impart,
Defying glum turbulence of now, hanging on to seasons past,
When springs-winsome banished, doldrums harsh-winters cast.
Disheartened, the gate harkens back~ O, so young its master died,
Lamenting of distressed times, when grief stilled her teary eyed;
Yet, with resolve, it squeaks its hinges, resounding a voice of pride,
Beckoning to benevolence of bliss, fate had so callously denied.
With kindred vibes it greets her, vying elation of cherished days,
Suppressing aches and rattles of its rusting, clamoring, phase;
Preferring realm of time, when he was the keeper of this place,
As dutifully now it opens wide, exuding mirth of youthful grace.
O, how fondly the gate recalls, dance of duo beneath full moon,
Humming melodies intimate, passions of doting souls croon,
Embracing celebration of life, as heartbeats enamored attune,
To rhythms emanating song of love, strumming infatuated tune.
Despite groans and whimpers, blaring aloud clattering of pain,
The gate vows to protect her, refusing ever to wither or wane,
Unwavering through thunders, rains, vicious strikes of feeble age,
Challenging its steeled bones, to gallantly defy seasons’ rage.
Categories:
suppressing, emotions, memory, missing,
Form:
Personification
(A Paul Callus co-write)
The tempest came from nowhere; it took me by surprise
The wind and drawling thunder tried hard to quell my cries.
The darkness felt so heavy, my heart dejected, blue
Then light, all of a sudden, changed that when I met you.
I thought I would be able to get out of the groove
To reach my aspirations and match your every move
By taking a step forward, put wretched past behind
Rely on understanding that comes with strength of mind.
You proved to be a lifeline; I clung with all my might
There was determination to make my future bright.
I truly knew my feelings, I watched you day and night,
A path to venture unto, and clung to fancy’s flight.
As I removed the anvil regrets faded away
In awe I left you breathless, provoking sunlit rays,
In search of every movement; my heart intrigued by you
The missing piece suppressing; it felt like a night flu.
A tempest you sought of me while falling to your knees
My charms became your weakness; a new loving disease.
Nothing to fear when falling; the apple of your eye
As fast as the night changes; I took you by surprise.
~ ~ A Poet Destroyer Collaboration ~ ~
----------------------------------------------------
Contest: Collaboration Celebration
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placed 2nd
Chosen POTD ~ 7th August, 2015
Categories:
suppressing, change, feelings,
Form:
Rhyme
He is silence,
crowned in rosy rhymes,
sprinkling balmy rain
upon frail flowers.
misunderstood, yet
beneath his armor,
is the selfless moon,
bestowing starlight.
when darkness unfolds,
time may be cruel,
but seasons can't wilt
soft-spoken sagas,
echoing amidst
hushed sanctuaries.
he shoulders the weight
of a true savior.
suppressing his need
to be heard and seen,
in a world so dark
and misleading,
he remains throned to
an emerald
garden, that glows
as the king of
picturesque patience.
painting the wrongs right
through butterfly strokes,
of everlasting
acrylics, in gold
across mourning skies.
Categories:
suppressing, blessing,
Form:
Verse
Behind the mask there is a frail and fragile me
Enigmas clothed in conundrums; that the naked I can’t see
'Behind the mask is concealed, my authenticity
Examine my history to unravel my perplexing mysteries
Behind the mask it is unseen paralyzing, piercing pain
With arrogance and self-assurance camouflaging the shame
Behind the mask is hidden my true Identity.
Seek and survey the signs of my obscurity
Behind the mask is veiled a heart that’s been broken
Held together by unexpressed resentment and animosity unspoken
Behind the mask is where my insecurity hides,
Like realism wrapped in riddles, you must read between the lines
Behind the mask is where I cover my falling tears
Dig just below the surface and you’ll unearth my crippling fears
Behind the mask there are cloaked secrets unexplained and untold
Decipher the symbols to crack my encrypted codes
Behind the mask you’ll uncover my True expressions
Remove and reveal parodies, and expose the false impressions
Behind the mask, it is hidden, my Individuality.
Not acting out some script of who I’m thought to be
Behind the mask is obscured my, vulnerability
Suppressing the mounting manifestation of the inner me
Behind the mask it is disguised, my true reflection
Underneath open wounds inflected by rejection
Behind the mask rest crushed and shattered dream
Where fear muzzles roaring whispers and screeching silent screams
Behind the mask is buried, my stolen youth
Deception, and cover-ups, masquerading as facts and truth
Behind the mask is where I screen the confusion
Look close and you’ll find, trickery and deception, draped in fantasy and optical
illusions
Behind the mask it’s stifling; it is hard for me to breathe,
The walls of deceit that i have built ,are quickly closing in on me.
I am trapped behind facades of smirks and phony smiles.
So may I please remove this mask just for a little while?
Chiquita Baity
Categories:
suppressing, depression, life, sad, slam,
Form:
Rhyme
When your fledgling heart is breaking
and tears silently start to fall;
mothers hear.
When you whisper of secret loves
suppressing muffled cries of joy;
mothers hear.
When lies get rehearsed in your mind,
and before you utter a word;
mothers hear.
When you struggle to stifle screams
entombed in a cone of silence;
mothers hear.
When you learn to laugh at yourself
and take life less seriously;
mothers hear.
When you mumble, I love you, Mom;
and the words come straight from your heart,
mothers hear.
Categories:
suppressing, emotions, family, feelings, love,
Form:
Free verse
Death followed her, like an unwelcome guide.
Grim Reaper stalking, forced her shadow to hide.
Angel of death took her sister, but let her survive.
How could a child understand death and being alive?
Other siblings distracted her suffering and pain,
like rays of sunshine on dark days with heavy rain.
A caterpillar seeking a cocoon to shelter from bruising,
for the wounds she had suffered were not from her choosing.
With fragile wings the butterfly gradually learned to fly,
when falling in love, her beloved made her feel so high.
But the Grim Reaper returned and took her parents away,
heartbroken she wondered how long the pain would stay.
Malevolently, death returned like a bitter enemy,
mercilessly snatched her babies without integrity.
Not content, Grim Reaper returned without warning,
stole her beloved – her tears never stopped falling.
Tormented emotions meant each day was full of anguish,
terrorized by dark demons who continued to languish.
Losing loved ones and falling into depression deeper.
Sensitive and fragile, she beckoned the Grim reaper.
Preparing to die – surviving was no longer her intention,
as the Grim Reaper approached – there was an intervention.
An ethereal light appeared, illuminating hope through her heart.
Death fled like a coward, afraid of the light, he would depart.
Wings broken, but still intact – butterfly began to write,
expressing her emotions, suppressing them with delight.
Angel of death would return one day, that was for sure,
but, producing beautiful poetry was temporarily her cure.
Originally written in 26 December 2015
Re-posted 19 November 2020
Dedicated to the poet formerly knows as Broken Wings (Constance)
Categories:
suppressing, dedication, emotions, poetess,
Form:
Rhyme
Shall we guilty claim
a rose, as her beauties rain?
when suppressing her prickles
floods of her blood
bedew her roots
absorbed in grace.
Shall we banish beaming scents
of a rose rising in light?
when flourishing wonders
and streams of delight
flowing into human veins
avidly captured beyond words.
Shall we a beholder blame
for admiring in shining light a rose?
when many a reason
grant noble human hands
to hold an evergreen rose
rejoicing at divine creation.
Shall we a rose deny
a deep inner desire
to serve and give?
Bearer of Aphrodite and Venus Love
showy but unrevealing
transcends words what she conveys.
Shall I Euterpe invoke
my rose to inspire?
with sacred music
words above the clouds
penetrating fervent hearts
that never leave the heavens of poetry.
August 11th, 2018
Categories:
suppressing, appreciation, beauty, blessing, inspiration,
Form:
Free verse
to capture the true
essence of what lies
behind my eyes
create a palette of
black pastels portraying
the shadow that follows like death
a constant visitor to my d o o r
nobody knows the
story of my heart
an artificial anecdote of
a l l i t e r a t i v e a n g s t
bleeding in metaphorical
ink stained tear drops
d r o w n i n g childhood
sanity in shallow rivers of
bittersweet s o r r o w
fate is a fragile wrecking ball
which has become too hard to love
soul craves to be free under horizons
of tangerine temptations
but all I find is twilight with
a filthy feldgrau sky
fatigue imitates the
last breaths of a
b r o k e n b u t t e r f l y
as 'spirit' becomes imprisoned
in sinister silence
yearning to sleep
forever in an unfolding
labyrinth hidden from the
golden colours of the sun
this smile cannot
continue to pretend
kismet is a
crimson clandestine
cursed t a l i s m a n
speech is my harbinger
of d o o m
miraculous ink
flutters in my pen of
p u r i f i c a t i o n
yet not all verses are
meant to be understood
cathartic martyrdom
sounds like poetry
but there is no remedy
for magenta manifestations
so I curse the poetic limerence
of my tongue suppressing
effervescent emotions
inside a garnet treasure
chest of blood-soaked
bruised and battered
invisible inflictions
I'm a mute masterpiece
drained from the pain
i told the Grim Reaper
i'm not afraid anymore
of all the lives we lived
this is my favourite
but he just smiled
then cried asking
"is this our last goodbye"
Categories:
suppressing, angst, life,
Form:
Free verse
A homeless man on a park bench
wore a tattered shirt bearing a stench.
He munched leftovers from garbage cans
with deep tanned face and unwashed hands.
He slept on a sidewalk heating vent,
pondering what life meant.
During the day at the Town Square
he avoided each condemning stare.
Every day at noon he would ply
to a large cathedral nearby,
To sit alone on the back seat –
a hungry homeless man from the street.
His eyes on the cross in front of him,
Not knowing how to pray, he said, “Hello Jesus, it’s me, Jim.”
The pastor saw the man from the street,
but they never had a chance to meet.
Then one day he noticed the empty pew,
Perhaps tomorrow he’d drift back through.
After the man was gone many days,
he wondered if he had gone away.
Later, while on a pastoral call
he met a nurse in the hospital hall.
“Come, see a man who has changed the whole staff,”
She said, suppressing tears with a laugh.
“Lately he has gone from door to door,
And has changed all of us on the floor.
“Doctors, nurses, patients – all are touched.
No one has affected us so much!”
In the patient’s room, he stood by the feet
of the homeless man from the street.
He saw a glow on his bright, washed face,
speaking so fast he could barely keep pace.
“One cold day I passed out down town.
When I woke I was hospital bound.
“I don’t know why I didn’t die.
In this room, when I opened my eyes,
“A man appeared, to my surprise,
Looking so calm, so holy and wise.
For quite some time he never spoke.
He just stood there in a long white cloak,
so peaceful at the foot of my bed,
and this is all he ever said,
‘Hello Jim, it’s me, Jesus.’”
Categories:
suppressing, jesus,
Form:
Rhyme
She wakens to the most ungodly ring tone-
her husband's cell phone left there by her bed.
And next, her damn alarm clock's blare is fed
by noise of the neighbor’s lawn mower’s drone.
At work, suppressing groans, she is a clone
who answers e-mails, and with silent dread,
takes clients' calls. Guff fills her pounding head;
again and then again that ringing phone!
Then finally she’s home. Ahhhh. . . . time to dine -
except the children cannot break away
from Face book - and the oldest starts to whine.
Her hungry spouse then walks into the fray.
Amidst it all, as if to underline
her plight, that neighbor’s dog begins to bay!
For Cyndi MacMillan's
TIMELESS YET CONTEMPORARY, A SONNET THANG
Categories:
suppressing, life,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
Some modern folks, when they hear his name,
will roll their eyes and look ashamed,
thinking the cowboy is uncivilized,
with his hats, and guns, and round-up rides.
That somehow they are beyond the stuff,
to good for the wild, and the rough,
following some unwritten ‘elite’ law,
suppressing the urge to shout ‘yee-haw!’
But I think when it all is said and done,
cowboys are truly made of awesome…
Riding swift across the wide-open plains,
coat flapping behind like your horse’s mane,
maneuvering a large and panicked herd,
turning a stampede with iron nerves,
rough-hewn men cooking by the firelight,
coyote chorus yips through the night,
knowing that for all the wind and grit,
it sure beats sitting in an office.
A battered hat worth more than any pearl,
grabs the attention of the cowgirls,
boots that announce you in any room,
be you a mere hand, or fancy bride-groom.
Leather vests that dress up any shirt,
and somehow can even make fringe"work,
a bandana or a wild rag,
with a thousand uses, not a mere fad.
The tell-tale jangle comes from your spurs,
vast coat made out of buffalo fur.
Square-dance, line-dance, twirl a girl around,
to fiddle and steel guitar’s sound,
campfire songs to entertain the kids,
harmonicas to sing the blues with,
teaching the folks to throw a lasso,
then breaking out tricks with swirling rope.
Living life by a strong honor code,
one that good people would do well to know.
Wyatt Earp and his famous revenge ride,
Masterson cut Dodge City down to size,
Doc Holliday gambling with a death wish,
Billy the Kid, criminal, yet tragic,
Wild Bill holding those aces & eights,
and old Kit Carson, out blazing the way,
Buffalo Bill brought the people a dream,
and who can forget, the legend Bass Reeves?
A six-gun at ready, holster right side,
the lines of a Winchester, ever sublime.
Ranches that sprawl on mountain and prairie,
riding the trails where man can breath free,
rampaging rodeo, those guns are fun,
and damn can those barrel-racers run!
Living out of doors, by both skill and luck,
be it on a horse or a pick-up truck,
It’s clear that when all is said and done,
that cowboys are truly made of awesome.
Categories:
suppressing, america, appreciation, celebration, fun,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
"I would rather be on a leaky ship that is mine, than aboard a more seaworthy vessel going where I don't wish it to go"—Poet's alter ego
Yes, I know what I’m doing
I’m the master of my fate
The captain of the sinking ship
Seeking harbor in ports whether safe or rocky
With gusto I plow through uncharted frontiers
Why do I do these things to myself? you ask
Perhaps I’m a rebel in search of what's unbeknownst
to me, in search of virgin long lost horizons pristine
Horizons others deem unreachable
I’m bold, brash and yeah sassy, brassy
And irrepressible! You can’t love me you see,
I’m a Lonewolf, and it's quite fine, to be…
Untamed as the wild northern wind
Sweeping the prairies with a gusting woman’s surge
Nature's raw elements try in vain to halt my advances
But I laugh and mock at Mother's efforts
Although I’m tossed and torn
In the grips of Her relentless tempests,
Her storms of fury suppressing, oppressing
Her stern and staid demands to obey, tame and domesticate
You may say I’m the constructor of my own chaos
A free-spirit, challenging myself
My integrity intact, place not your pity on me
Respect is my hallmark and independence,
my calling.
Categories:
suppressing, angst, character, crazy,
Form:
Free verse