Best Threshold Poems
The cold hand of Winter swiftly approaches
Its breath etches frost on my windowpanes
Nearer my threshold, Death now encroaches
Blood is slowly chilling inside my frail veins
Reaper's wild winds pelts hail on my roof
His breath etches frost on my windowpanes
Snowdrifts climb higher on the sills in reproof
Huddled in a corner, my fear is spurred
Reaper's wild winds pelts hail on my roof
This room is the chamber where I'll be interred
On the threshold of madness, I'm losing grip
Huddled in a corner, my fear is spurred
Winter's hand has caused a temperature dip
I flinch at the sound of a knock on my door
On the threshold of madness, I'm losing grip
Terror incites me to curse what I abhor
The cold hand of Winter swiftly approaches
I flinch at the sound of a knock on my door
Nearer my threshold, Death now encroaches
August 17, 2017
steps on the threshold
of new two thousand sixteen
Wish Happy new year
hopes that hovering
let's renew and add nice dreams
wish all to fulfill
let go past mistakes
lay heart to make world better
let's have loving smile
may God bless us all
come and bow down before Him
pray for all's wisdom
Oh-
feet of mine
that walk the meadows vast and green
where azure skies and clouds unfold
and a stream comes babbling on a long climb
and wind like violins whisper cold
as leaves twirl red, orange and gold
and in the swaying trees birds sing sublime
melodies serene
Oh-
this withered threshold
where time is lingering in a season in-between
where bees drink from a faded marigold
and there are so many lovely scenes to behold
Oh-
I turn weary footsteps to a shaded place
to find a hued space
quiet
______________________
September 07, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/this withered threshold
Copyright Protected, ID 09-1485-898-07
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, A Brian Strand Premiere Choice
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 09/09/2022
Fourth Place
So frequently we sat inside
those holy dwelling places,
All Saints for all our sins,
knowing that true grace is
here in the pulpit, there in the pew.
So shamelessly we sat inside
those holy dwelling places,
Salvation found at fingertips
touching through forbidden spaces,
clinging, cold in the shadows outside.
So carelessly we sat inside
those holy dwelling places.
Do you recall the Chapel,
side by side with angel's faces,
where you first dared to touch my hand?
Across each threshold, love, My love,
we carried burning traces
of that blackest, basest love,
which no rosary erases.
my eyes dilate leaving him breathless-
seeking what should have been sought
yesterday and beyond kismet;
I reap in seeds that sow themselves-
(spread me over willows weeping)
he gazes at me with such depth;
sees the me I wish was there-
maybe he’s blinded by love and
won’t ever see the demons within,
for they would chase him until he
left…
for good this time
I am but a woman longing for a place
to call home-
searching endlessly for that safe and
comfortable bed to keep warm in winter,
cover me gently as the moondust
f
a
l
l
s
onto my bare feet,
with him beside me-
but then he’s left breathless and I am left…
restless
for there is no entrance sign to eternity when love
is your redemption-
and there is no threshold to forgiveness
136 words (falls is considered 1 word)
One Hundred and Thirty-Six Words Contest
John Lawless
August 20, 2019
between the hush and the cry
we lean into what we can’t quite tell
to the same
a door ajar, no key in sight
a sigh half-swallowed in the throat
grief is hope with no shame
we neither stay nor fully stray
our shadows dance without a shell
and laugh, as if the blur was to blame
Tesla 3-6-9
The arrival of spring greeted again and again,
Each day at the awakening of twilight,
With the songbird’s sweet refrain,
Much to the morning glory’s delight.
But their unmindfulness of this date
Is not shared by the assemblage of students,
Who at this threshold proudly wait
To see the matter formed of their prudence.
About this matter now we ponder-
Marvelously formed in equal steps,
Such that candidates stand and wonder
How to hold it within their precepts.
Then with thoughts of the Most Sublime,
They see skinless, boneless sheep
And know this matter depends not on time,
And begin to fathom that providence is deep.
So through the threshold they step in line,
Equally spaced to receive that common reward.
That matter assembled by the class mind,
To which they now march in cadence toward.
Fully aware that they enter the edifice
Made by the creator of the universe.
They are deemed holy by academic sacrifice
And set free to practice arts diverse.
frantic talent
among willow shadows
capsized boats
in trawls meshes
the spiders spinning brocades
lights at the window
someone waiting for us
an ardent desire floating in the air
set free
the moon soal wandering
a cock
sifting the stars with kikeriki
in the lake full of waterlilies
waves of silvery clouds putting out the night lantern
slowly the dawn caressing the forehead
under the feather sole
bridges lines
can be seen
far away beings coming nearer through
their hearts accord strikes
contrasts
deepening disappearing
in a continuous back and forth
a wind shaking the white chrysanthemums
the cottages hats appearing from the fog
though it is hot
autumn stitch
shaking the nut trees
the fisherman’s wife is alone
all over baked apples steam
unhealed wounds
weeps towards the murky sky
at the poor’s gate
there is an icons painter
getting a bowl of food
with the love colours
the trees and sky are painted
my friend
I give you a tear
of its light
( translated by Margareta Mioc)
So sweet the sight of home’s threshold
Threshold into those childhood days;
Days up the tree we climbed and played
Played and sang, laughed silly, squabbled.
FOUR LINES ONLY CONTEST - Visual 4
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Kim Patrice Nunez
08 June 2015
All graduates feel
they have arrived.
They’re tossing caps,
exchanging high-fives;
walking with pride,
experiencing release,
a sense of accomplishment
and a measure of peace.
Excitement takes over,
anticipation sets in,
wondering about tomorrow
and work to begin.
Life looms on the
horizon, straight ahead.
What seems to be finished,
just beginning instead.
Threshold(s) Hail thee
The path that delivers I will elevate;
For the life that lives deserves whole eternal,
In the place of rest that saints will dominate.
The many battles fought to safeguard a trait,
To let a brood with no lore of nominal.
The path that delivers I must elevate.
Not she rests assured by nature’s salvage date.
This life yet renders bosoms for cardinal:
To nourish…, enrich this trait to dominate.
From ‘yes’ I breathe to still ‘no’ I defecate.
These, I owe house of notional tribunal.
For that life’s deliverance I will elevate.
Progenies I, owe this life that promulgate
News of me to flora and fauna’s astral.
I owe this life for those gifts to dominate.
Nerve not she got, to stand tests to procreate
Won’t my lines have been thrown in lone nocturnal?
This path that delivers I will elevate,
To the place of rest that saints will dominate.
©A.O, 4/4/2014.
Dedicated to my mother and my father. And parents alike.
If I were to swagger off the streets
Some gangster as I perched the skulduggery
Of my litany in glitter and smoke
An ageless vandalism to linger unknown
While I sneer from the lounging corner of your TV
Would you recognise me
Though I slide sheathed in the flags and banners
Barking and whining with the malaise dogs of freedom
Still with the coils of bright subliminal stars
With the cool smoothing glass of my poison
Throttle every whisper in the eyes of your children
Would you know me
Should I sink in bitter teeth this Nospheratu gift
A mechanical mayhem of guts and blood
In impassioned exaltation choke the anthems of liberty
Should I scream dank from the cellar
Beneath the rubble litter of such celebrated and hollow victory
Would you hear me
When I dally in the mall smile Muzak ghost of neon
And peddle from every crisp clean rotting shelf of starvation
By coat-hanger noose dangled so footloose
Breathes it’s monoxide pull into your lungs
Better for the fashion this fashionable becomes
Do you recognise me now
As I secretive polished in slick glide reflective coercion
In the vaunted line of the halls of my fathers
Where this iniquitous trail of fiddling crumbs
Lay their poor morsel under the boot of my banquet table
I dine on metal and speak with weapons
And faceless electronic the vendetta of surveillance
And twisted media to quell every utterance
I hide this honed blade skulking behind you
Chill grip to the spine in bright sunshine
I haunt you
You ….. photographed
Are ….. stamped, filed
Mine ….. and numbered
(On this last night insomnia did not allow me to sleep. The recurring image of the stone giants contained in Milton's poetry assaulted my mind. The way I found to 'take revenge' was to honor him with this poem).
again a broken night...
dawn of poisonous delusions
eyes that refuse rest
trying to keep fixed on something terse
body that denies brain command
maybe it's some kind of modern curse
something that prevents sleep from coming
as if there was a threshold
of old rocky sentries
equal to those created by Milton Hankins
in 'Old Sentry Standing Guard'
menacingly posted
between the concrete of wakefulness
and the dream and its shards
not sleeping would be wanting to tie life
and not let it grow old?
this is the meaning of the craft of writing
this is the power a poet can have
enable the creation of the imagery and the unreal
with such a strong force
able to turn the verb into truth
able to build a new reality
or find the fountain of eternal youth
Standing raggedly
on your threshold, yet you showed
no mercy on me.
Excellence of spirit begets
Excellence of mind.
Innate in some it resides
Others strive to imbibe.
Climbing a mountain requires
Skills commensurate with the task.
Energy sapped, discomfort induced
Food eaten, transforms to vapour.
Friends abandoned below
For the joy of mentors above.
Looking not below still
Focus placed above ever.
To the uninformed observers
Such unpardonable self-hate.
Yet the ascension unabated
Leads to a glorious beginning.
Exhilaration marks the arrival,
The arrival goads inspiration,
Inspiration steers to fulfillment,
Welcome to the centre of excellence!
Peter Edoziem