Best Tautly Poems
Rushing through each day, as if I had not a care,
head long toward the sun screaming, "catch me if you dare."
Dripping drabs of liquid sunshine burn my deft eye.
While seeking answers to the question, why, why! Why?
Into the sun I run, my skin so hot and dry,
as the dusky penciled pastels of twilight smear.
Through tight clinched lids the sun glares, blind I'll be I fear,
always grasping for truth, but my head just can't clear
my thoughts on the tautly stretched canvas of my mind.
Race and run and fill my lungs, still I fall behind
playing catch with the sun, and all I seem to find,
I'm racing toward the horizon of tomorrow.
Please, one more chance, for a moment I can borrow,
but blithe sun denies me, leaving me in sorrow,
while in the distance the light slowly fades to dark.
Truth or naught, who can say, the end is cold and stark
the meaning is lost in life's fading rainbow arc,
enveloping me in my sadness and despair.
Dripping drabs of liquid sunshine burn my deft eye
as the dusky penciled pastels of twilight smear
my thoughts on the tautly stretched canvas of my mind.
I'm racing toward the horizon of tomorrow
while in the distance the light slowly fades to dark
enveloping me in my sadness and despair.
07/29/16
She walks away.
Girlish and glorious
laughter
floats
through air
like a kite on a string
that pulls
tautly slipping through tightened fingers,
burning a little,
and slicing through
if ever left unattended,
so preciously tensioned
against the cold
benumbing
wind.
Tears begin to flow
but I do not know . . .
my heart?
or the wind?
If my heart, then am I sad
to be here on the ground
or joyful
to be watching the kite
fly?
In answer, a quivering.
A wisp.
"She will not fall or float away while I hold her thus.
She will be beautiful for me."
Wondrous.
Moonlit Buffet
Is that laughter I hear
floating about in the air
or the cooing of the breeze
as it teases the willow
to dance with giggling glee
before the sun sounds
its final drum beat
and night descends
------------
Inhale deeply…..
drown peacefully
with pleasure
as the honeysuckle
and wisteria share
their sweet potent scent
under cover of darkness
beguiling the succulent
to come and play
----------------
The softest of whispers
hear we now ……
the hushed soothing
sound in the darkness
as the breeze
gentles its breath
and the spider spins
another web with
thoughts of prey
dancing tautly,
wrapped and served warm
on her homemade
moonlit tray
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By: Debra Squyres 5/22/12
Angst
Pressure
Tension Builds
Nerves Tautly Wound
Stomach's Knot Tightens
Imminent Deadline
Boss's Threats
Pressure
Angst
The Spirit behind the thought
that encourages the Word…
It is the motive-substance – not
always our responding vocabulary;
not the echo, but a deep, abiding ring
shattering man-made crystal, releasing back
its finer light–
reverberation, tuning and timing
internal cords, tautly stretched
outside the joys of eternity...
Truth that eases pain
before the apparent illness –
Lasting cure that comes only with Presence –
Divine Stillness, when God can visually,
and verbally pierce through the Earth-membranes
separating our worlds from His Universe of Perfected
Miracles --
It is the craving never satisfied, the malformation
Of gluttonous starvation, the disfigured beast of emaciation.
Hell's spiritually depraved wind walker, feasting on the
Lingering slowing pulse of the flat liners final vibrations.
Engorging itself on the fiendish terror, unleashed by this
The devil’s own kindred son!
Dare not look into his hollowed out eyes, turn away from
This misshapen abomination, with its tautly pulled
Flesh, stretching thinly over its boney skeletal frame, it so
Lurks in the night shadows, waiting for a moment of
Unconscious weakness!
For it senses your revulsion, yet it excites and stimulates
Its inner bloods thirst, and desire to feed, awaken from this
Realistic nightmare, quicken your pace, hasten your steps,
Run mortal fool, run!
But there is no safe place to hide, once you bare his
Mark as prey, the predator by midnight follows the
Unrighteous footprints, this blackened satanic beast!
Beware the wrath of the Wendigo, for it has no soul.
This demonic sadist, hiding within the arms of darkness.
Behold this Insatiable cannibalistic hunter,
Taboo’s flesh crawler, stalking on the edge of reality,
Thriving on the hatred, and malice of your civilized society.
This demonic boogie man, whom dances on the grave
Stones of the innocent backwards, wearing a mask
Of lies and deceit, spitting forth a foul odorous
Stench, repelling the living, attracting the undead!
Beneath the chilling air, a creature so slithers, undetectable
Turning into vaporous mist, sniffing at the shifting winds,
Seeking, testing its keen awareness against the night breeze.
Kneeling in the holy church, the sinner begs for redemptions
Shield, to protect him against this foul monster of evil,
But it is too late, for the devil owns this fallen soul,
And the wendigo, is here to collect on his dark fathers
Unconsecrated debit.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
At the tender stage of relationships,
the hand offered, lips not kissed, the bloom
of inner soul tautly wrapped
just one more red rose bud to flame open,
women who are yearning for affection
see the bamboozle offered by the slick
as just one more abomination
to learn about love.
They show their distrust with scorn.
They attempt to cast their gaze away
but if touched lightly, as if dusted
with a light snow, they cease to struggle
as if they felt just, too, too cold.
They turn up lips, curious to see the taste
of someone kind, someone soft.
If cherished like every velvet petal of rose,
inhaled, enclosed, caressed, enraptured,
the relationship is no longer in doubt.
Veteran's Day
Tattered uniforms washed with borax and sunrays
still house the bulging proud chests of older youth
Who uncompromisingly gave away their modeled freedom
For un-apathetic ideals buried deep within the gabardine
Many found unknown treasures beneath their teenage joints
Some gave all and the deep rest welcomed them sweetly
With calloused arms that slowly softly laid them to honor
Many tears made a stream to heaven’s well and soul Lover
From a mystic distance He too opened His compassionate arms
As a divided earth tautly offered up her commended spirits
There are virgin rooms in His pure inn for principled patriots
They prepaid in advance with pierced pounds of flesh and blood
“Home, home; welcome to your true home” my master said.
“Don’t rob my heart of untested epiphanies,” my Lover cried
The silence of war has spoken loudly through rising spirits
Taps throws her nocturnal blanket over the faithful servants
Those beneath our soles know only peace and freedom
Never alone in birth, battle, bruises and brokenness
A family of integritites woven together in un-brokenness
Far above the man made divisions of cloaked legalites
Cold humanity sitting on the cuff of a slow moving rotator
Her thoughts were like a great machine
Driven by a force of unlimited potential
Reactive responses tempered to produce such diversity
Each image a symbol that armed her mind to Manipulation
The winds of puberty recently passed
Bringing with it a cruel mimicry and argued caution for
Sensations of the body that allured and called for attention
She walked a delicate edge at such a young age
Her words now always outlined in Overreaching Brilliance
Rich consciousness displaying Minutiae of Observation
That expressed great energy of sophistication and a Circle Sense
That All Life is Interconnected and in Service of All Other Life
So many ideas began to spring from nothing –
On one side the cold hand of mortality
On the other the nurturing rustle of warm colors
Snared by Destiny and shocked into Deep Understanding
She saw the world as not nice
Yet split with a duality that offered such beauty –
Wisdom and valor and justice and prayer
Hold back the darkness in a grip of steel
“What senses do we lack that we are so oblivious
Of another world singing all around us?”
Tears pressed tautly for escape beneath her closed lids
As Supreme Notions and Designs came unbidden
From a place beyond places…
– That which submits Ultimately Rules –
– A gift is a blessing For the Giver –
– Leadership is not revealed Without Conflict –
– The Wisest know what They Do Not Know –
– Prevailing over others is strength – Prevailing Over the Self is Greatness…
– Erasing desire Brings Peace –
– Life is not a mystery to solve – but rather a Reality to be Experienced….
Profound impressions kept coming on and on and she wept for futility –
For who could she tell…
amidst cavorting delightfully, enjoying thorough
frolicking gingerly, foreign hick hating slo
hip-hopping insouciantly sustaining row
biological status quo
kvetching lamely moreso mother became pro
naturally physically rumbling,
heard all the way in Oslo
supposedly twerking, undulating vivaciously
wantonly x2c wisely yielded – nada no
zona pellucida anchored byte size seaman,
potent embryonic fetal moe
newlweds nocturnal merriment
moma's Menses marked march 1959
lovingly joyusly, insemination happened ha low
bullseye clenched diploid fertilization
guaranteed germinating heiress
while squaqking lichen Apache at Diablo
ma late mother did should know
upon awakening upon tautly stretched exertion
during dilating cervix, which jiggled like jello
three score orbitz round el sol, warmed cockles
and muscled away brutally cold degrees
tab billed an igloo,
or circa six decades
drafted exuberant ho...ho...ho...
cuz, i.e. thencee at 362nd day
baby in belly did fully grow
December first nineteen fifty seven
sanctioned newly minted papa
to sing a capella for he's a jolly good fellow
quintessential nascent
kickstarter heady everflow
though wintry dark,
a “hi” beam illuminated
newborn girl with dayglow
sans, mechanical engine ear
papa (an honorably discharged army vet)
all spit and shine groom,
who wed a bride somewhat callow
first time parents with giddiness did saul fully bellow
Boyce and Harriet Harriet countenance
twas (like an elf on Christmas eve) all aglow.
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Dear Sis – I knew not what else to do
thus, this poem crafted fur ewe
a doe ting maternal gal – whose time on Earth flew
Time is a ribbon of silver thread
Spun by the spider, Space,
Cob-webbing Man’s bewildered face,
Snarling his dense, doomed head.
Love is the only sure weapon Man
Wields against the net
Time has woven and tautly set,
Sword it as best you can.
How diligently the spider weaves,
To place her silken webs among the eaves.
Like those, she spins across blades of grass,
They catch those unwary, as they pass!
With hidden strength in which to play its part.
Each is a perfect example of her art.
Placed and fastened with all due care,
Has length exact; with none to spare!
Though it hangs unseen for most of the time,
Is clearly visible, when dressed in rime.
Each frost studded strand, part of the filigree
Catches the morning sun, it’s plain to see!
With work completed, she awaits her prey
Patiently expectant of what comes her way.
Like nets which catch fish. Such as seiners cast;
So she’ll snare foolhardy insects flying past!
Once caught, they’ve scant chance to escape their fate,
For they are cocooned! When their struggles abate,
The spider feasts on what her fine web has caught.
Few are the times when her efforts come to naught!
Though each slender thread, with strength stronger than steel,
Is tautly strung, that all movement she might feel,
though gathering dust and debris collects, to weigh
Upon each strand. Causing it to sag and sway.
Finally this flimsy gossamer breaks free,
To float away until snagged by grass or tree.
Then the spider, begins her task anew,
At another advantageous rendezvous.
Rhymer. September 10th, 2016
Here from the ledge
looking into the liquid silence
across the abyss of time
the eye for detail is sharply seen
clear from this plateau,
giving new edge
to a life spanning out
flat, as a cord
where the view is worn
but, tautly keen with insight
Spliced are the wires that stretch out below me
according to colors
red joined to red
blue joined to blue
some which have tangled
mixing the hues
changing the views
from where I once stood
wedged deep in the canyons
looking up
Into two directions,
we reached for the sun
flapping our wings
running from truth
swimming with fear
the closer we veered
A view of the ordinary
became the exception
my eyes ever arching
to reach for the stars
by far, without reason
while seasons were passing
and strange as it seems
I learned to stop grasping
for what was unreasonable
I learned to grab on, holding on tight
to that which had meaning
than ever before
Here from the ledge
looking into the dust
across the abyss
of time that has passed
My eye for detail is honed sharp and keen
seen from the years,
giving new edge
to a life spanning out
flat, as a cord
where the view may be worn
but, sought....
perhaps taut........
with new insight
___________________________________________________________
In Another Time Contest
Sponsor Ir0nic ZiNk
minds trip
skin touching skin
emotions erupt
no more no less
held tautly inside
comfort amid her sighs
lights flicker
time momentarily rewinds
Demure in her pose, modest in her ways
Deflecting potential beaus, careful not to stray
Brief in conversation, shunning repartee
Halting in her laughter, her faint smile shadowy
Eyes fixed on the ground, hair pulled tautly back
Lips pursed tight together, her figure corset-wracked
Yet deep within dwelt beauty, of a type so rarely seen
Her eternity of timeless verse, visionary... and pristine