Best Swirling Poems
Life is never a planned ride
on a magical carpet,
that awakens jasmine
dreams lost in the brisk air.
We weave our own
zest of zephyr,
to tailor-stitch a tapestry;
buttoned with zeal,
cuff-linked with faith,
designed in silence~
fragranced with forgiveness...
We forget to appreciate
dusky clouds carrying
crooning rainbows,
when mists of memories,
shroud the lemongrass lace
of velvety eventides~
As twisted thoughts wade
through a lachrymose
web of thistles~
skies drizzle
tear-stained diamonds.
There was a time
when my consciousness
refused to seek
mulberry streaks
of halcyon light,
flickering beyond
cluttered chaos
carved in confusion,
for I've long waltzed
through drowsy darkness~
that circles around
the kundalini spirits,
stealing sacred energy
like vicious vultures
intoxicated by the
fickle flavors of
fleeting seasons.
I ponder, would I have
found clarity, if I had
abandoned the
bleeding dreariness
that dragged me
towards an abyss of angst?
Perhaps, I shall find the
sunsets that slumber
behind wintry eyes,
to heal this ebony skin
that hides bruised veins.
So tonight as I listen
to the rain serenade
the silence that swirls
between my
aching heartbeats,
I find serenity cascade
like whistling waterfalls,
calming inner-fears,
as I let go of the shadows
lurking behind the
angels that guard
enticing temptations,
tethered by false narratives.
Here in the rising glows
of ineffable moonlight,
I've seen the seven-stars
sparkling around auroras,
dancing to the symphonies
of truth interwoven with
rouge reveries of
today's twilight,
wiping away whiffs of
yesterday's blurred visions,
and unseen truth of tomorrows,
as the choir of mindfulness
orchestrates a
magnolia melody,
where every infinite rhythm
reflects the virtuous sound
of butterfly bliss
fluttering~
along mirthful chambers,
within the sobriety of my heart.
it is dawn in the city
and all is quiet and hushed
today, I wrote seven words . . .
the streets are windswept still
a lonely soul- I wander
painted pigeons follow me
my page of words swirls away
_______________________
May 14, 2020
Poetry/Seven Words Swirling
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1252-172-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Finish Line In Seven
sponsor, nette onclaud, Theme chosen - #1 City Life
First Place
Poem of the Day, May 16, 2020
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Gently, they swirled about in Winter's frigid wind
No two were identical, none were ever twinned
Each ice crystal, a pristine beauty transcending
Tumbling from clouded gray skies, softly descending
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I frolicked among them, as amused as a child
Infused with wonderment and totally beguiled
Tree limbs brocaded, deeply embellished with snow
So beautifully they glistened with lucent glow
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How quickly it gathered on rooftops and hedges
Wafting, free-spirited, collecting on ledges
Down, they continued twirling in a tranquil scene
Etched in memory as idyllic and serene
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I was enamored and enthralled as it drifted
Toward heaven, my eyes were gratefully lifted
As each flake so elegantly fell to the ground
Creating a dreamscape without making a sound
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Like dainty birds, they fluttered in such a hurry
a flock of crystal snowflakes, in Winter's flurry
My world was blanketed by a quilt of pure white
Tonight it would sparkle brilliantly in starlight!
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December 10, 2020
Winter Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
The Butterfly Cocooned
Noon
Beneath higher twig tips,
my heart flutters
Near converging branches.
My cocoon
Rests
Mid-high the strength
and distinctive character
Of a gnarly tree. Embracing me.
This, my home…Cocoon.
Night.
This essential place,
Protecting
Above the swirling world,
Puzzling with its mixing motions
Of lights, colors, temperatures,
Until I think I shall just stay
In this cocoon
For all the days
of my brief forever.
I have grown able
To feel my heart flitter,
And my future hinting of more.
Secure herein my cocoon,
I debate with Life…
Staying here within,
Cocooned
Perhaps until I might learn
For its own brief time and purpose,
How each raindrop so proudly falls.
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(c) sally young eslinger 3/1/23
***written in response to my time with medical
Specialist & his presxribed treatment and diagnosis.
Thanks be to God…
I feel very privileged to have been able to contribute something small to a second collaboration with poet extraordinaire, Robert Lindley, whose mastery of all forms of verse continues to inspire. Thank you, Robert, for such fellowship and inspiration.
The Unseen, As Swirling Ebbs Of Time Plod Along
A collaboration with Robert Lindley
19th October 2018
Fight disbelief, as its intended power is to deceive
its low, hard constant drone, echoes shattered moans
with razor knife edge, bloodied cuts hide in its deep,
at dusk's waning hours, path falls to the cold and dead
And what speaks in dreams, oft walks in shadows at day
spreading aching sadness, horrific chills sent to curse.
Yet disbelief will not be fought
for waging of battle demands that you believe
existence says, believe you do not
for from whence, otherwise,
did disbelief's bleeding red-blades appear
if not from blindness, saddest of such sad truths ?
Is this black magic in its unfathomable infinite embrace
cut short by false Gods that once held its great powers
nay, the same, blood for blood that mercilessly seethes
from its savagery, demands we live weak, wasted lives
In soul destroying expanse, sorrows birth deeper woes
man a pawn, dwelling within Time's never ending shows.
Yet the ancient false Gods be not false
for only true Gods could control and mask
their own hidden goals and divinity's truth,
and their every mysterious whim,
as the oscillations of a cruel lover,
echo divinities that we'll not ever divine.
If one sees, finds a way to break the mold
they are targeted, struck down long before the old
as were celebrated artists felled in fleeting youth,
rotted in earthen soil, living now in dreams of more
Behold, evil, slow-walks hand in hand with father Time
recurring patterns, anger born, in man's fallen mind.
The Unseen, As Swirling Ebbs Of Time Plod Along
Fight disbelief, as its intended power is to deceive
its low, hard constant drone, echoes shattered moans
with razor knife edge, bloodied cuts hide in its deep,
at dusk's waning hours, path falls to the cold and dead
And what speaks in dreams, oft walks in shadows at day
spreading aching sadness, horrific chills sent to curse.
Yet disbelief will not be fought
for waging of battle demands that you believe
existence says, believe you do not
for from whence, otherwise,
did disbelief's bleeding red-blades appear
if not from blindness, saddest of such sad truths ?
Is this black magic in its unfathomable infinite embrace
cut short by false Gods that once held its great powers
nay, the same, blood for blood that mercilessly seethes
from its savagery, demands we live weak, wasted lives
In soul destroying expanse, sorrows birth deeper woes
man a pawn, dwelling within Time's never ending shows.
Yet the ancient false Gods be not false
for only true Gods could control and mask
their own hidden goals and divinity's truth,
and their every mysterious whim,
as the oscillations of a cruel lover,
echo divinities that we'll not ever divine.
If one sees, finds a way to break the mold
they are targeted, struck down long before the old
as were celebrated artists felled in fleeting youth,
rotted in earthen soil, living now in dreams of more
Behold, evil, slow-walks hand in hand with father Time
recurring patterns, anger born, in man's fallen mind.
Robert Lindley Lawrence Sharp - collaboration
10-18-2018
Note: Yet again I have had the great honor of writing free verse, with my dear friend Lawrence Sharp and being inspired by his beautiful poetry. Such fellowship is indeed a boon and a wonderful experience as I continue to travel on my poetry journey.
swirling russet leaves ~
scattering of random thoughts
in a restless night
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A Haiku with Movement
Nature Themed Contest
Hosted by Tania Kitchin
© 7th May, 2020
Twirling, whirling, swirling into myself
I listen to my ready soul
I take blank canvas off a shelf
Twirling, whirling, swirling into myself
My muse becomes my happy elf.
As I begin, I feel whole
Twirling, whirling, swirling into myself
I listen to my ready soul
From out the swirling surf
he plucked a maiden fair, and in distress,
whose innocence intrigued him so
that he could not confess in speech,
articulate her loveliness.
He took her to his breast and blessed her,
held her close, and quieted her fears;
it was as if she knew him well,
such recognition in her eyes,
as joy and peace didst dry away her tears.
They joined in union, enjoyed
the purest of all sacraments,
unsullied by lascivious display.
They blended, as a tree blends with the sky,
a fusion of the elements.
He was Poseidon, she a wayward naiad,
protected by his gentle touch,
a helpless waif in need of solace,
he the providence that calmed her,
proffered bliss she craved so much.
They were lovers found in time,
wanderers who claimed a home,
dreamers courting paradise,
bound together now as one
and sanctified, no more to roam.
In swirling mist, I inch along the roads,
There are no passengers aboard the coach;
This is no night for driving heavy loads.
The headlights full to warn of my approach,
My scalp is prickling: wonder what this bodes
(My instincts always prove beyond reproach).
And then dismembered hairy hands appear;
An evil laugh the last thing that I hear…
* based on a local legend
Jack Horne, 24th August, for Nette’s Through the Mist contest
Pine needles and dead leaves
twirling, swirling in a dance.
Falling as fast as snowflakes now.
This ballet, their last chance.
To the ground, a carpet forms.
Dead they are as the summer past.
Twirling, swirling on their journey
in the Autumn's windy blast.
Yellow, red and green the leaves
blowing in the windy sky
to their final resting place
'neath the trees where they now lie.
Dancing trees wave their arms
and set their leaves and needles free.
Twirling , swirling in the wind
in glorious dance for all to see.
Swirling With Rain
Misty vapor fog line the lane
Pockets of rain poke throw the clouds
Dew collect on tree and grass
Downpours tap tap tap onto rooftops
Drizzles of droplets drip down the drain
A wailing whimper weep
Woes of wretchedness
Withered willows washed down the Waterway
Wind wreathes and worms wiggle out the earth
Hearts and stick figures drawn on the steamy car windows
Starless, shadowy silhouettes
Storm the street with shield and screen sure to shade in the stream
The storm lasts for but a moment
Whimsical rainbow arcs stroke pavements, swirling with rain
Marckincia Jean
Alliteration
10/07/19
The Swirling Green Storm
Sea foam splattered upon his panicked face
his boat sank and life was torn asunder.
He had run away, he was a disgrace;
the storm worsened with a crack of thunder.
Each new wave tore at his weakening hold
yet he recovered, now he longed to live.
Wanting to hold her as he had of old
to taste sweet love only Kara could give.
The words formed inside, then out swift they rushed
Jacob prayed for rescue and a new start.
God, let me live, let my life not be crushed
please save me, please enter this aching heart.
Suddenly, silence, the sea stopped raging
as he had prayed he would get a new chance.
He could picture them together aging
he felt blessed by their renewed romance.
A ship rescued him, new life he could see
with many new paths to embrace with hope.
All that was needed was his heartfelt plea;
God's answer given when he could not cope.
Robert J. Lindley, 1-07-2016
Painting number one
Poem number one, Ekphrasis
http://www.georgiaokeeffe.net/blue-and-green-music.jsp
Blue and Green Music, 1919/1921 by Georgia O'Keeffe
Inspired by-
(After: Blue and Green Music - Georgia O'Keeffe 1921)
Debbie Guzzi's 10 for 10 challenge
Ekphrastic: Writing on Art and Art on Writing [this site ACCEPTS reprints] http://www.ekphrastic.net/submissions.html
Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables: 200
Total # Lines: 24 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 161
Destruction in wake
Natural Phenomenon
Tornado magic
Nathan Bane Leccese
©All Rights Reserved 05/26/2009
Would you go swimming or fishing with an eighty foot strong hook, flippers, a basket hat, and a toothbrush tail? Bullfrog wants to. He wants to consistently visit the waters to engage in the flow and ebb and weave of the stylish currents. Duty bound so duty is and all flotation tanks that arrive on a ceiling are to be thus acknowledged. Carrier pigeons make very dramatic circling loops but circling a pair of pans is akin to dripping a sauce heavily over a tissue. Ok then. Perhaps it is the formality that is the formal but not the formerly formed first. And beware of baked rations of cabbages at this time. Fir they can rise and rise and rise and rise. So all you sea urchins, emeralds, garnets of tree clusters, and ilk hypothesise this scenario. In under one word. Or in a sentence of six characters. Here is the title to ponder. 'If nine elephants ate a cake with no icing would the rhino still be envious'. Scores will be given to any emblematic and meaningful answers. The rule is not to swear and curse for both are insufficient to a language lean. So don't lean heavily upon amplifiers, pool tables, breasts, sea horses, tails, or any related articles resting in fires and bins. Surplus to requirements is a large wad of mismatched print that portrays fresh cream and butter like lards and fats. Critical caressing creating crossing chaos. Chat chat chat and then cut chop. No chip shop in their right mind would sell multi corroded mouldy non sparkling potatoes in a fryer. So leap then. Longitude latitude is neither an attitude nor a mystified contemplation of a sausage roll on a shelf. Ok then. Tell it to the feathers, mystic beak in realm, tell it to the cloven hooves trotting in the towns, tell it to a block of frozen ice, soon to break and thaw, and don't forget the number two waiting at the door. And now go bake a cake using a lorry, a car and a huge seventy acre highway. Hahaha bread is giggling to the toaster. Hahaha postures of pigs parading and paragliding too. Hahaha missionary muscle mass musical effect. Passing. Xxxxx hypnotherapy Z. That was a bulletin from 9905829405.0 from the p Y Q REPORTING ON A NEW NOTE FLICK, z