Best Tension Poems
That night, in a strange place
I was like a fly
Circling a street light
Reeling…Reeling!
I felt so alone
Fear wrenched my throat
Couldn’t predict
When I would be charred to death
I had heard,
In the cover of dark
Everyone was a robber
Or a masked assassin!
Without a roof over my head
I was like a mole
Smoked out of its hole
And exposed to blaring light
Had it been my own town
Where I knew
Every nook and cranny
Like the lines of my palm
I wouldn’t have minded
Being so helplessly stranded
Or left in the night
At a distance….
I saw the faint silhouette of hills
Like dreadful dinosaurs crouching
Also the outlines of buildings
Reminding one of the medieval haunted castles
Stray dogs, mangy
Were raiding the trash bins.
I don’t know why then
I enjoyed their company
I could hear the falling hooves
Of cattle, led to the slaughterhouse,
And the lash of whips falling on them,
Echoing the shrieking of a banshee!
Saw an auto lying upside down
Fallen unwary in a pothole
A line of tanker lorries
Seen halted by the roadside,
Like the bogies of a goods train
And their drivers went home,
To sleep with their mates
Behind the cover, I saw
Two figures leaning;
A man and a woman
Night owls at a mating serenade!
I closed my eyes,
Covering them with my palm
In that unearthly hour
An eerie fear gripped me.
Tension was building inside,
Like a balloon being bloated with air
And how my mind longed
To slither out of that hole
To curl up in the warmth of my home
Far… far away!
The swordsman who draws his blade
Heart racing at the keening of steel on scabbard
Tension coiled, poised for the unleashing
Held back by muscles tight with glee.
I am as the soldier, held in stance,
The lioness crouched beneath the concealing grass
As it sways back and forth, as insects sing along the day
Her every breath is halted, her veins do not pulse,
And just as the swordsman stands
They are statues in this moment,
Statues of derision,
Mocking, with their stillness, the very charged tension within.
And I am as the lioness frozen before her pounce
Coiled with motivation and purpose,
And I am as the tongue held with words clinging off its’ edge
Ready to lash out and strike with direction
But I am as the frozen purpose, held tight
Waiting, for a warrior to stand before me
For a reason to uncoil, to lash out with words and pounce.
But I am now as the pen halting before the purest of paper
White and supple, in askance for the lightest touch
A slash of the tip, drawing lines in ink
Lines like a hunter’s bowstring, taut with intent,
As the pen lies frozen above its prey, the falcon petrified aloft still winds
I am the need coiled tight like a wound jack in the box
But alas, there is no victim to frighten,
No pray to pounce upon, no sword or bared neck to slash against
And I am here, with pen frozen, ink ready to be drawn taut
And I have nothing to draw in the ink, no prey or purpose to evoke
I am coiled tight with energy, but it is release that so eludes me,
I am coiled tight with purpose, but it is direction that so denies me.
And here I am, pouncing at ground before me,
Slicing away at the air around me
Scratching away with a dry pen, on paper still white in askance
I write about…
I write about the coil within, and the lack without
And alone I wonder,
Is it enough, is it enough to go on, a wound up box
Waiting for the slightest touch, the weakest parry, to live.
HIGH TENSION
Horizon to skyline traversing panoply of greenery
High over verdant land they drape an elegant catenary
Stark constructs of geometry stand noble tall and fine
Their mission for the nation to forever hold the line
Aye, COVID-19 is here to stay
And we are all living day-to-day
So why must I ask
That you wear your mask?
No one wants what you're giving away!
Soul is weary
Heavy heart's dreary
Breastbone crushing resuscitation
Pressing rhythms flatline
A moldering past
Alas—a day to die for
Written: February 15, 2024
______________________________________
I ultimately rule over these stunning valleys,
Elm trees with mossy brows line the alleys.
Where distant peaks arise, calm and azure,
Akin to the strong tripods used for rapture.
Who can't view river stones as viable paths?
A scad of scramblers on spurs stoning laths.
To slay fair faces, who bartered leaden blasts,
And weapons because of their leopard casts.
Who inflicted lasting wounds upon the land,
Those who pursued the avian crowns stand.
Fetched to flatten fascinating flesh but failed,
Who still flies above "fallen Tomahawk," veiled?
From my awakened gaze, I view a world,
Across eyes that bear a black shade furled.
A confined space, restricted and stretched out,
Then I cast a velvety gaze over a dumb doubt.
In a shadowed visage, this is how I mumble,
These walls, built by oppression, must crumble.
I must quit as I gaze upon my unique form,
Through opened eyes, no longer blind corm.
And behold, my unique hands create,
The space exists within my mind spate.
Nonviolent activists avoid causing friction,
Path for discovery, not building any tension.
Yield your tension a flight and let it depart,
God will never strain you over skills to impart.
Stress is only a reaction, probe not to worry,
Oddness from bodies and beliefs is blurry.
Not all stress stems from having a lot to do,
It originates from a lack of follow-through.
The potential increases with increasing strain,
Growth comes with a sense of life's innate pain.
I'm feeling hollow, not due to any sorrow,
Yet, in a sense of relief, each knot fades hollow.
The most crucial factor in ensuring lifespan,
Is staying clear of tension, worry, and strain.
Life is not a rising conflict or a stressful scene,
Life ought not to be painful; it may be serene.
It's habits that induce tension and relaxation,
Cutting rituals and building useful tension.
sunlight unshaken
in the wind...
motion and quiet
... reconciled
Inspired by a Janet Lewis 1899-1998 phrase
Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But there's a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see. – Quote by Helen Keller
In the dawn of my existence,
Reaching through the quiet temptations,
Releasing the fears, the tears, the years…
Touching the moments with elation,
Lighting the nights with my star,
The one God gave me, to glow in my heart,
In the dawn of my existence,
I knew the warmth of sweetest love,
The beauty of peace and hope,
The music of faith that comforts the soul,
The wonder of grace that restores.
In the twilight of my living,
Memories, some beautiful – some distant,
Poured from my spirit, reflections, feelings,
Sentimental trails, traveled by feet,
Who journey through the dark, the fear, the night,
Some blessings, some doubts, some tenderness,
Some dread, some tones of grief,
Many struggles before I’m led to the finish line,
The end of all my strife.
In the twilight of my living,
Music plays, melodies in whispers,
Singing of wonders, faded blessings who remind me,
I have known the warmth of gentle hearts,
I have known the darkness that dissuades all hopes,
I have known what it is to love and to give –
Without expectations of receiving anything myself.
In the twilight, where I’m sensing,
The final days, the final prayers, the finality of all those years,
My mind echoes, in the expanse of time,
Trembling thoughts, small dreams and insights,
When He comes for me… as death takes my life,
Will I sense the wonderful that is to come,
Or will my fear silence that thrill?
The beautiful light who pours out the quiet…
As death sighs and I am no more,
Yet, in the end, I find…
I’m far more than I’ve ever been before!
To sound the right musical note,
string of the guitar is made taut,
so likewise for our light to shine,
trials we face, make us self-taught.
Stuporous is mind, heart unkind,
insipid stance, clumsy our dance,
floundering about as though blind,
mindful eye alters circumstance.
Notice head and heart, stand apart,
misaligned from the pulse of love,
so simply tightening soul’s strings,
they begin to act hand in glove.
Choosing consciousness correction,
fixating on God our focus,
shifts life’s course and our direction,
flowing along the love locus.
Tension buildup can be useful,
if employed for a higher cause,
which reworded simply requires,
putting flow of desires on pause.
Desires exhumed, our thoughts too cease,
then ego dies, since it’s unfed,
whereupon we flow like the breeze,
love energised, by bliss beats led.
I shift my eyes slowly from the ground,
up the wall and over to another pair of eyes
that in a moment lock onto mine.
His penetrating stare
makes my heart thump with force,
the heat from his gaze
brings beads of sweat to my skin.
Lingering in his hypnosis
I have the urge to know him,
to look deeper into the mystery
of those seductive eyes and
bask in the warmth behind them.
As suddenly as it begins, it ends--
he snaps me back to reality
by quickly averting his eyes from mine,
but only after flashing a flirtatious grin
and inviting my mind to wander
down dangerous roads....
bodies touching
ever so lightly:
wanting more
In the fact shifting, below my graces
The path is enlightening in the mist
Open to my senses, I hear nothing
Fog enhanced being walks and does resist
Beyond the shining white shroud, finitely
I see myself in the depths of darkness
Looking outward into the starry light
Surely peeking through the shores of progress
Stammering I bask in the blinding white
Other side I ventured and sought after
I cannot see, but I smell some flowers
Each one perfectly shown not to differ
I walk into the unknown before me
But comforted by desire, secretly
Russell Sivey
There is tension at the pumps:
folks look glassy-eyed and glazed.
And a sense of frustration
has concerning eyebrows: raised.
Though they're being bamboozled:
customers contain their rage.
And yet, curse under their breath,
at the numbers on the gauge.
Siphoning off hard-earned cash:
speculators rob at will.
And manipulate markets:
not caring who foots the bill.
To keep us oil-dependent:
big business has become crass.
And blame government taxes:
for the rising price of gas.
I can remember a February
away back in nineteen seventy-four
'Twas a first meeting of my family
and my intended whom I'd spoken for.
Two hour ride to Kentucky's western part
with a basketball game planned to follow
home-cooked meal - key to a son-in-law's heart.
The tension on both sides, hard to swallow.
Driving home after the game my sweetheart
suffered an attack, much worse shall we say,
than a mere gastrointestinal fart.
Gas stations, closed; fast food stops, gone astray.
No rhyme nor reason fits distension's distress;
My beloved sensed a connection, right off -
key to dad’s workplace suspended a big mess
as mom wonders, "Was it my rice pilaf?"
written February 9, 2018
always prided herself on
what she believed to be the
“right way to live,”
standing up straight, abiding
by the rules, going to church,
paying her parking ticket on
time, doing her 9 to 5 gig every
monday thru friday, always
on her soapbox & always
having it easy cause’ she never
got her morality put to the
test.
her favorite cousin asked her
to come visit the city &
though inside she was a bit
reluctant, she hadn’t seen her
cousin for such a long time &
the summer was the time for
having a little fun anyway
(so she told herself), so the
hop on the Amtrak was quick &
lo & behold, she arrived at
Penn Station
round 4:00 pm.
that night they went out on the
town, the group of them &
when crossing the street she
heard a scream---it was shrill
& short, as if it had quickly been
muffled---
looking in the direction of where
it had been coming from,
she saw with her very own eyes
a man repeatedly striking a
young woman in the face, whilst
yelling at her in between the blows---
they were more like hard slaps than
punches, but the sound that they made
she swore that she could hear them
over the sound of the cars & the
crowds.
while her friends continued to walk
as if nothing was happening, she
found herself slowing down &
as she watched the scene unfold,
it was over in real time much quicker
than the delay in her brain,
which seemed to vibrate in sync with
the increasingly rapid thump of her
heart.