Best Thickened Poems
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:
thickened, deep,
Form:
Free verse
Somethings are best
said through blank
scriptures in sheer
silence, but pulling the
violin strings of
a poet strumming
to personify pain,
with tempests of
torment rushing
through thin veins,
would only widen
twisted tunnels for
ink to bleed in
vermilion lines of
broken thunder.
For these lungs have
long thickened
from scraps of
pretend promises,
to dress them
with mountains
of flawed flowers,
oblivious to the colors
that suffocate,
black hearted devils
hovering above
treetops of tainted roots.
And when the
angel of death
descends to steal
the steel within my
mind,
I question the vampire
grey hearts that kneel,
to raven midnights
beating tunes
of truth across
glacial valleys
of mourners.
Why is living a
gruesome terror?
Where artless spirits
sleepwalk along
olive lawns,
as grass snakes
sing deceptive
schemes-
with the reaper
that strolls through
a funeral of fairies,
collecting weathered
wings
and bleached skeletons
buried six feet under the
graphite soils of salvation,
confined within garden
graves of deception,
designed In unearthly
roses dipped in poison.
If only the sun would rise
and see,
how I am no longer
plagued by the vision
of you destroying peace
within your kingdom
of hypocrisy.
I am not your puppet
pirouetting through
hellfires ignited
by the thorny knuckle
of a megalomaniac—
chanting manipulative
mantras of a destiny,
devised from disorientation.
I will always sing my own stars
amidst suppressed scars,
until the moon trembles
and falls
into the heavy depths
of grieving seas
streaming in salty sapphires.
Categories:
thickened, angst, emotions, gothic, jealousy,
Form:
Free verse
I can’t believe I thought that there’d be no darkness when it’s dawn,
I’ll be your queen of hearts, even if the cosmos did crack,
‘forever’ exists as an unseen reality, and the sun will always sprinkle saffron crumbles,
upon vivacious petals of violet roses,
painted by poetic dreamers with writers block,
amidst sharpened thorns and thickened thistles.
But why do golden flares burn the selfless skin of silken silhouettes that swirl to his salmon streaks?
Is there no empathy left in cerulean spheres?
I remember the warmth of his solar presence,
and how he whispered sweet tales to the blue breeze;
he said he loves the storm that sits on
the edge of angst,
yet he chose to flee, in the quest of citrine light,
at the sight of roaring rain and raven clouds,
too reluctant to walk beneath skies engulfed in chaos.
I ponder, who am I to blame?
when the truth is, I assumed the splitting songs of this thunder-struck canvas,
would never be a reason for him to erase inked promises.
Perhaps, I should have seen, how the sparkling stars waned in silence,
and the moon veiled its pearl necklace,
tired of the monsoon monsters, mercilessly moving,
above seas so calmly awaiting~
cantaloupe wings of the compassionate sun.
So, today, I’ll follow our honey-glazed dreams,
still left along ivory shores,
adorned with seashell souvenirs,
while reminiscing how, you wove profound pantoums,
from refined refrains of rhythmic romance,
to calm the lawless nature of my inner-psyche. …
Categories:
thickened, deep,
Form:
Free verse
“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before”
Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven.
I’m sitting on the cusp
of blazing silence,
watching thick
sullen clouds
swerve in funeral pace,
as ruby reds within
ravishing rainbows,
disappear into depths of
blue laced emptiness,
like silken fire rising from
a diamond-furnace,
illustrating the venom
rushing through
my veins in vain.
The sun always knew
of the pain I swirl to
amongst silhouettes
of burning stars.
I am a mistress
of darkness,
crowned beneath
a fallen sky
sequined in
sinful sapphires
and amaranth angst.
Throned to a kingdom
that has no air
for fragile flowers.
I’ve faced cruel
fangs of reality,
that fed my paranoia
with wistful peonies.
There’s no ray of twilight
for the tormented tears,
I hide behind
the shimmering
horizon, painted with
dandelion dreams in
dreary drowsiness.
And I surrender at
the edge of
doom to an
agony of a pawn.
But there’s no
running from a
lethal kiss that kills,
like the queen’s gambit
that would freeze your
soul into thickened vapors
of bleeding ice.
Yet the moon looked straight
through my soulless eyes,
hoping I would taste
an ounce of her truth.
If only facts would reveal
tiny seeds of grief that
were sprouting steadily
into what they
call "madness"
maybe then they would
have known,
even black roses
bleed the same as red.
Categories:
thickened, dark, deep, moon,
Form:
Free verse
Repulsive Slumber
Down the basement,
not a single color of envy,
flat-lines, are standing still all around.
The stillness is suffocating,
everything coming my way.
Different from,
the morals,
of my old organize ways.
"Still Round The Corner There May Wait,
A New Road Or A Secret Gate." ~~J.R.R. Tolkien~~
In certainty!
Someone will help me dismantle this knowledge!!
A movement so loud that bleeds,
irritating metal in the open wide.
Time standing still
pushing,
tossing the dice.
Sleep walking in a slow pace,
paralyzed and lost in a smoky haze.
So blurred, my perception slips.
The concept is so untouchable,
Finding peace, I find the thrills,
I conquered.
Screaming! I wake up,
Tangible evidence, released.
Rough, pillows, invade me.
I follow my guts,
I finally found the right feelings...
Exhaling one final breath, I freeze it!
Avoiding the demons!
Impossible, slumberous visions,
entering the atmosphere ,
thickened, loud voices, ~ "WANT TO BE HEARD!"
Sliding into my slumber,
locked in one solid dream.
My slumber,
I lay so quietly,
Voiceless, still I feel.
So repulsive, still redeemable.
My slumber,
dry like black soap.
Stillborn, yet still breathing!
Stillborn, yet still moving!
Reaching for the ceiling,
and I try hard not to dream.
An empty pyramid, winding up to a new start.
Imperceptible pencils in my slumber, beneath me.
Now I am in wonder,
breaking my mind with this,
from all the solidness.
Only I can revolve around this light.
Taking hard cold metal,
stabbing it behind me.
My repulsive slumber.....
an ongoing punishment with dark fantasies.
by;p.d.
Dedicated to NIKKOS... poem *Elusive Dreams*
Categories:
thickened, dedication, slam,
Form:
Epic
Be proud of your scars
oh daughter mine
now a mother of children dear
Remember the time
they suckled your breast
gorging on the food of love
Worried lines on your face
anxious frown on your brow
a love story you cannot erase.
Oh daughter mine be proud of your scars.
Pendulos breasts wear with pride
your babies now full-grown and wise.
Stretch marks remain to tell
that you carried your babies well.
Oh daughter mine be proud of your scars.
A badge of honor
that's what they are.
Thickened waist and cellulite disgust many
yet tell a story so sweet so true.
Oh daughter mine be proud of your scars.
Uptilted breasts shapely hips
elegant thighs tell a story of their own
but you gave your babies all you had
with love and tenderness.
When they're grown and gone away
you will remember them still
by the scars you bear today.
Oh daughter mine be proud
Be proud of your scars.
Categories:
thickened, daughter, love,
Form:
Free verse
When the sky is a
sequestered sanctuary,
and the clouds croon
for sinking star-beams,
listen to the euphoric hymns of silence,
for seething storms throned
beneath rainbow castles
shall never obscure the
crystalline colors of compassion,
amidst thickened fangs
of dwelling darkness,
constantly trying to
seize peacock pigments
within violet-blue seas
of sequined sentiments…
O’ beloved white rose~
perfumed in vanilla love,
let not the wolf-spider gaze,
mirroring envy within black widow hearts,
confuse your diamond vision.
It’s just another day,
enveloped in a warm sakura sunrise,
there the gales of greed
looming in ghostly flecks,
question the redolence of rivulets
behind your veiled vigor.
There’s no reason to fear
when hope flows and drifts
like comets flying as fluttering butterflies
across the butterscotch horizon.
Remember, when the sage sun
seeps into foggy crevices,
and deserted dunes
speak in ashen accents,
their choice of words do not define
the rhythm of your seraphic symphony.
Your merlot wine spirit is
the whimsical wand turning unspoken
tales into wildflower wishes.
There’s no need for an alchemist
nor a sorcerer to concoct
spells that rearrange constellations,
as your voice swirls in magical mists.
You and I, are every last thing
we need to conquer the bewitching
perimeters we truly deserve.
Tonight, when my lids rest upon the
dreamscape of daffodils and dahlias,
I see that look in your eye.
I ponder, is it me that you long for?
Am I the unfading ink
within your saccharine sonnets?
I yearn to be the one you talk
about in sweet seclusion.
This trembling canvas longs
for no other skin to caress the acrylic
edges of my aching soul,
and I do not need
the wind and water
beneath whistling willows
to write my destiny
in green and gold.
We don’t need shades of shadows
following our intertwined silhouettes,
yet I let these metaphors
merge with the heat of
your passionate presence,
as you and I break through
the landscapes of grief
with mutual attraction
like the mulberry rays
between the moon and earth..
Categories:
thickened, deep, love,
Form:
Free verse
A lonesome magpie~
perching on a forlorn wooden stairs
on a snowcapped mountain side
spells serenity in the day light.
The barn house reflects
the pale lavender shadows~
a soft blend of chiaroscuro;
The thickened snow in impasto
reminds me of winter daydreams
of my love so far away.
The hanging frosty pearls
on dancing dainty twigs~
sparkling like chandeliers
in ancient sanctuaries;
Like the diamonds I keep
as a symbol of his promise
that one day soon~
he will come back to me.
3 February 2021
Notes: The Magpie (French: La Pie) is an oil-on-canvas landscape painting by the French Impressionist Claude Monet, created during the winter of 1868–1869 near the commune of Étretat in Normand.
(Photo and info credits to Wikipedia)
Categories:
thickened, appreciation, art,
Form:
Ekphrasis
Dormant desires within derelict deserts’
Winds whispering of your selective stealth
Frozen fingers that chill the empty spaces
Longing for you a pacifier of thickened thorns
Discombobulation drives the day
Your mendacious love marooned on dusty dunes
Secluded silhouettes stranded
Mystifying mirages migrating
Only sacrificial shadows scream
Where your love mutates into a holographic hollow
Desolation within a Venus vacuum
An anemic vampire
Erotic deceptions dominate deflecting desires
Eruptive emotions have no place to tread
For your unfulfilling love, a puff of smoke
In a hellion hole.
Sept.10.2019
Sometimes love is not enough
Sponsored by: Silent One
Placed 2'nd & POTD...Thank You
Categories:
thickened, conflict, longing, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
LIFE'S UNDISCOVERED PASSION
I reached up far to touch a star.
It only took a second.
I thought I heard a salient call
alas it did not beckon.
While looking for an artful craft
and finding none; the time blew past
I looked toward the heaven's stars
for talents that could break these bars
Like thickened paint on canvass fashion
Mixed with rich excitant passion
From Starry Night to sheer delight
but never wrong and never right.
Should I envy those with deep affection
with skills that move in-synced direction
for passions born into their soul
to define their purpose-- take control.
Athletic prowess, artistic flavor,
a builders trade, a science major,
musicians joy and mountaineer
for all of those we stop and cheer
and think if we could only be
but they are they and we are we.
Somewhere, somewhere deep inside
are struggles there we cannot hide
doubts and fears that suck the joy
from life's sweet gifts; a noxious ploy
of destiny failing in an attempt
to re-discover a lost lament.
CAK 12-2-2012
SYNOPSIS
Sometimes, I find myself lamenting
that I do not possess an
exceptional skill or talent. It seems
many people find great joy from theirs.
It seems to gnaw at my being and
I grow sorrowful that somehow
I am missing something.
Categories:
thickened, art, creation, growth, identity,
Form:
Rhyme
Many Americans, at least it would seem,
Win Megabuck lotteries, inside their day dreams;
What will I do now, with all of this loot?
I’ll jet far and wide, like a Rock Star en route.
And yet, there’s a man, at the head of our state,
Worth many vast billions—no weak featherweight;
Who could have declined, to avoid all the grief,
But instead serves us tirelessly, providing relief.
THANKS to the millions—‘Deplorables’ strong,
Who saw his potential, and sang his theme song;
About Making us Great, restoring times past,
Returning jobs lost with fair trade deals—at last!
Yet mainstream ‘the media,’ despise you and peeps,
Their Deep State criminal, lost to your sweep;
MAGA did resonate—you won handily,
Our thin skin now thickened, by their blasphemy.
In the end no collusion—just more of the same,
Fake news by leftists, with HATE on the brain;
So thank you kind sir, and please drain that swamp,
A patriotic act perfectly befitting...
...#45, PRESIDENT DONALD J. TRUMP!
Categories:
thickened, america, appreciation, blessing, conflict,
Form:
Rhyme
My shoulders drag through whirls of crescent night
under a wooden bridge this heart retains,
a pile of thickened ash
where reason hangs on edge, hollow the veins.
Above a skyline, a deep madness roars
oh, patience grows thin along slithered bends
that I, in deep thought grope
for fate’s comfort as street lantern descends.
Nearing the foot, a dove rustles my skin
its pearl-like glow cleanses a dusty face,
soothing my troubled head
so near the fall, so far a warm embrace.
From nowhere, a glossed horizon appears
connecting me back to life’s overpass,
as birdsongs lift my glides
till cinders fly as joy pours on life’s hourglass.
John Lawless' Gathering Dust
3/02/2015
Categories:
thickened, pain, uplifting,
Form:
Rhyme
There is a place inside my head
Where thoughts of other worlds will tread
When I awaken from a dream
Standing alongside a purple stream
With a lime green cast upon the skies
And a twinkling glimmer in my eyes
Moons and stars that look so *****
And a rushing sound within my ears
I wonder if I should be afraid
To be in a place quite so strange
Roots of trees lying all around
Whilst comes a rumbling from the ground
There beyond the shivering leaves
Many eyes staring back at me
Out of the shroud of thickened mist
On my hand is placed a gentle kiss
The nerves of steel begin to fray
With a restless feeling akin to dismay
As a darkening shadow draws so near
And yet still. I feel no fear.
Suddenly aware of fields of green
The most beautiful place I've ever seen
A carpet of turquoise flows through the hills
Mine greedy eyes can't get their fill
With windows wide open to a soothing breeze
Finding it's way through the forest of trees
Leaving resonating echoes loud as a train
As I felt a tremble inside my brain
I hear whispers there upon my ear
And yet still. I feel no fear
The origin of such a beautiful song
Grabbing my hand and pulling me along
Oh it's the One who gave me life
Father dearest with all your might
Giving me the strength to let you go
And become a part of the superlative show
With a gentle hand once again to dry my eyes
While I watch you capture such a glorious prize
Deep down I can feel the time is near
And yet still. I feel no fear
Scattered pieces of a great full life
Flash before mine deep inside
A heart string is plucked to the tune of love
Played by an angel sent from way up above
While brilliant rays of light abound
There I see you safe and sound
Traveling back alone from where I came
Crying buckets of tears like pouring rain
Recalling the soft whisper you had to say
"Be happy my child. We'll meet again one day."
Feeling a presence always so near
And yet still. I feel no fear
Categories:
thickened, adventure, death, dedication, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
When ceilings were cast on dreams
air thickened, swelling lungs
with unbreathable mediocrity
pen is clutched
in reluctance of dim witted judgement,
small minded skewed views,
all pushing towards
Oprah Book Club fame
under a midwestern bubble.
That trophy would shine
like the second hand cars surrounding
When ceilings were cast on dreams
a terrified scream evaded me
as lips were bit in the traditional
small town offend-me-not fashion,
my pen faultered and died...
Fear is passion disapating into lonely corners
accepting it's quiet demise
Never realizing sea breeze or sunrise
alive and never living
while calendar pages fly by abandoning
Regret is for mourning souls
past possibilities of redirection
and compromise
I break westward stepping over spilled milk
toward angular man made mountains
Now the pond fish evolution begins
as I swim in bigger waters
insignificant and loving it
feeling anonymity breed inhibition
and onward to infamy
toward my name etched in spines
and altitudes I make my own
**inspired by John Heck's "Edge" contest
Categories:
thickened, introspection
Form:
Free verse
The Highlands, our Kingdom, our many Lochs and Glens
Our beauty woos fair maidens to be at the side of Highland men
Their futures to be part of our history, Queens to our many Clans
As we stand and salute the Saltire, by the side of their Highlander man
Such a Princess exists, in a far away land from the Scot's
To our shores we'll grace her beauty, once seen, forget me not
Onclaud, by the name Nette, shall stand by her Alba man
Upon a Ben she'll stand so proud, admiring the lands of her married Clan
She'll walk through purple heathers, thickened by natures sun
Amidst ferns and ancient bracken's by burns so crisp in run
By her side he stands this man, kilted displaying his kin
Claymore at the ready to grace his enemies skin
His Queen, their Kingdom, their Castle, resting on the shores of the River Ness
Overlooking forests and greens, salmon runs in richness finesse
When the night befalls these lands, in the Kingdom of the Lochs and Glens
It's understandable as to why they be wooed, by these historic Highlander men
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-6.php
Categories:
thickened, history, people, places
Form:
Quatrain