Best Tines Poems
When sea gods invisibly show their glory
They’re escorted by their elusive sea army;
Vow before them, their loud rhapsodic chords play,
As heard in light of blue waves on summer day.
Marvelous army with mighty spiral swords
Hewed by sea gods, their magnificence- behold!
Their trimmed trident’s tines conjure like somersault,
Wish I'm sea god’s knight to ride on them and joust.
Coastal birds herald their rare presence with glee
With ineffable joy, breeze hums sweet ditty;
Surfs break in applause beneath the granite cliffs
As splendid narwhals’ display… nature breaths…sniffs~
Narwhals are great sea god’s mighty unicorns,
They’re special sea army, prides of Poseidon!
Categories:
tines, beauty, nature, sea,
Form:
Sonnet
The gun seems gun-shy in this space;
where deer hides hang on rustic walls
and granddad-tick-tocks beat, instead
of hearts in hollowed skins. The gun
a “trophy-bagger” in its rack,
a loud-mouth predator at rest,
this motherless, brother-less thug
perceives no pity-pangs... the gun
now quiet, buckshot empty, cold.
Above the stove’s phoenix soul hangs
an antlered head with prideful tines
the man, with bear-paw hands, had won.
A fox in freeze-frame-trot, a stiff
with cat glass eyes, attests his prize.
Indeed, like litterfall they fell,
unseen his haunt in hunter gear, his gun
a junkyard dog of steel. I say
they're beautiful in life. He says
they’re beautiful in death. Between
our words — a stand of pine — the shot!
that brought the shock of ammo air
that rib-cage-ripped and broke the breath,
that hurled the crows against the sky —
the blast that felled the 10-point buck that failed to sense your goddamn gun!
Yeah... blame the buck his reckless pose
and buckled throes. You felt the king!
Behind tight trees you sat with dawn
in sniper-silhouette. The gun
felt nothing; no remorse, no joy
—it, too, hangs upon the wall.
Categories:
tines, animal, conflict, death, life,
Form:
Quatrain
I bent over to touch my toes
and the ground tore open like a backbone.
I tried to feed myself the sky;
to splice my tearducts into the universe
so that, when the pavement cried, it would mean something to me.
My fingernails punctured that slimy membrane
congealed with stars,
and I brought a slice of it to my lips,
hot and slippery like a jellyfish.
Peach juice, chalky-sweet, flowed,
fleshy particles snagged in my teeth,
and the colors erupted within my mouth.
Synthesia took over my lungs.
The hollows between my knuckles flooded with synovia
and all the ectoplasm threatened to separate from my cells
with a sound like thunder.
Diphthong tasted rusty like leukoplakia as it tiptoed across my tongue.
Tomorrow rose like the skeletons of trees,
groping for a feeling similar to catharsis
[catharsis tender as the broken wings of doves,
crunching underfoot like shattered glass.]
The clouds opened their thunderous maws
- teeth snicker-snacking, lamplight-eyes flaming the color of E#'s -
and consumed me.
I felt my skin turn to something other than skin:
thick and rough with scales,
my fingerprints melting into something waxen, smooth and opaque,
like pomegranate kisses on coffee mugs.
A feeling ignited deep in my structure;
cedillas blossoming like lilies from my lips,
fragmented sentences stretching taut as guitar strings
between my thumb and forefingers.
A flutter gentle and demonic as Calcifer erupted from my system
- splattering hot and frothing into my hand -
and fluid rushed in.
I dared to taste oblivion,
and the sky swallowed me.
My lungs failed to be lungs.
They flooded with caustic matter,
and I coughed up reflections sharp as fiberglass;
fighting with organs phthisical and sore.
I struggled to find a way to describe it:
the feeling of consuming something greater than yourself,
of opening your eyes and tasting the sound of rain.
It was like swimming,
but inside out.
I bent over to touch my toes,
and my spine tore open;
the loose laces unraveling, veterbrae poking out
like the tines of forks.
I tried to contort myself into the beginning,
but I only found where I end.
Categories:
tines, allegory, confusion, depression, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
He was so charming, but never a prince.
Sweet words he chose to mix and mince.
How could my mind have been so dense,
To let my heart rob me of common sense?
It's true, I fell for many of his smooth lines.
Love pricks like a fork with sharpened tines.
Wounds causing me to need a defender
From the one I call the great pretender.
Or am I the pretender?
Aren't we all great pretenders,
at one time or another?
Categories:
tines, relationship,
Form:
Rhyme
It must have felt like love at first,
The clinging of the ivy vines,
Until his rich red heart had burst.
Her tendrils slaked an ancient thirst,
The tender touch for which he pined.
It must have felt like love at first.
Too guileless to suspect the worst,
She speared him with her soft green tines.
Until his rich red heart had burst.
Her coils so patiently she pursed,
He never guessed at her design.
It must have felt like love at first.
Crazed with cracks, its strength dispersed,
From end to end the wall declines
Until his rich red heart had burst.
So new to love, so poorly versed
In joy, so baffled by her signs,
It must have felt like love at first.
Until his rich red heart had burst.
Categories:
tines, allegory, heart, red, heart,
Form:
Villanelle
It was the best of tines; it was the worst of tines.
It lay, distraught, in silence on the road.
He came around the curve, saw it too late to swerve;
the puncture caused his front tire to explode.
A silver-plated fork, her lineage was perhaps York;
a heritage of which she’d long lost track.
Her dreams as ballerina, faded like her patina;
now, pits and scars festooned her neck and back.
Her mind played back her fall, the horror of it all;
despairing life, she hoped it would end soon.
At first, upon a dare, burlesque with the flatware,
to end in shame, pimped by a plastic spoon.
Not wanting to be saved, she’d crawled out on the paved,
and waited for the crush when all went flat.
But in that car’s careening, her life took on new meaning;
an unexpected blowout saw to that.
For there, just up ahead, a kitten, surely dead,
was spared as the man slammed upon the brake.
Once stopped, he now could see her mewling pitifully;
he gently scooped her up to calm her shake.
Then, trying not to swear, he wrestled with the spare
and stowed the blown-out tire in the boot.
That’s when he saw her, mangled, her tines all at odd angles,
a fork that placed them all upon this route.
And so with certain care, he also placed her there
beside the kitten, on the padded seat.
Now straightened out and polished, she watches York demolish
the breakfast that her tines scooped out to eat.
—————
for the Metrical Tale Poetry Contest
sponsored by Hilo Poet
written on 01/03/2022
Categories:
tines, destiny, meaningful,
Form:
Metrical Tale
Mediums of Winter parse
translucent runes on the tines
of sloping firs basking like mallards
in March's brusk sunshine.
Arctic oracles echo on the lake's hard sapphire
with pearl crests punctuating
Spring's arrival while cat tails exclaim
nascent umber banks. As teals float
in a tarot of amulets tanagers preen,
imbuing remnant frost with scarlet omens.
Categories:
tines, nature, spring, winter,
Form:
Free verse
SUFFERINGS
stabbed at the dumpling…
cut the head off the chicken
...kitchen staff impaled*
Harker’s tipsiness...
ruddy wine blushes on neck
...teeth marks like fork tines
imagined in dark
mind of Dracula...scheming
closed lips...tongue beating
5/2/2018
*to fix in an inescapable or helpless position
Categories:
tines, dark, drink, fear, food,
Form:
Senryu
HERE COME THE DEER.
i sit in my stand so patient and verry still.
when the wind blows it hits my body and gives me a chill.
i hear the leafs russel and the falling twigs snap.
i look and i wait for them to fall right into my trap.
i cant help but think how great this feels
i just cant explain it to anyone other than its unreal.
the sound grows closer but nothing in sight.
i look out my scope but with no sun there is no light.
i wait even longer now and thats just fine.
i am waiting for that big buck , the wone with the two drop tines.
here comes this huge white tail so i take a deap breath of air.
i staead my aim for this might be my only chance this year.
i ask god to help steady my aim.
if i miss this one only myself can i blame.
i draw the sight close to my my eye.
for if this deer isnt shot all will say i tell a lie.
i pull the triger and hope for the best.
how im so happy now i have a deer hunting story to tell all the rest.
Categories:
tines, adventure, animals, passion, visionary,
Form:
Monorhyme
or peaceful vines
to turn a fork to tines
fluffy kisses guessing
without dressing
on occassion
pink ovation
to feast and dine
on a ripened vine!
Categories:
tines, fantasy
Form:
A few lines about forks upon the table
Fondue's pronged fork for fingers habile
A taste of life's flavored torgues
Babes brought by the stork
Tough, old meat
Forks
Fork for cake
Tines just for wine corks
Roads that fork and life uncorks
In the end only two tines are stable
A few lines about forks upon the table
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Contest: An Invented Form_Help Me Name It!
The Butterfly
Hourglass
Think about Robert Frost's Poem "The Road Not Taken"..
Think about playing on words a fork in a road..
Think about putting all your cards on the table..
Categories:
tines, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
paprika-stained tongue
passion of the Magyar —
sweet rose tingles tines
10/1/2018
Categories:
tines, food,
Form:
Haiku
The drum, the drum, the Druid in the East
The daylight shattering the glass of night
Behold the mead and cake that form the feast
Behold the glorious blessing of the light
The blazing gorse flames yellow on the hill
Bright shafts of sun surround the Druid’s head
She comes, she comes, my daughter liveth still
Released at last from fathoms of the dead
Her eyes are purple crocuses, her hair
Is woven through with wood anemones
She shocks the eyes, her presence is so rare
And strong, as hyacinths upon the breeze
She wears the sun a-shimmer on her dress
In folds of drops of snow and celandines
And, as befits she with the power to bless
Comes riding on a stag of seven tines
She speaks unto the awed and silent crowd
“I come” she says “I bring the fire of life
I come to cast my seeds on fields ploughed
To quell your hunger and relieve your strife
I bring you daylight from the depths of hell
Where I with Hades am forever wed
Of Christ and Dionysus I shall tell
In sacred stories of the risen dead”
The crowd are stunned to silence, robbed of breath
She came, she came, brought winter to his knees
Defied the dreadful tide of dark and death
To bless the ground with shoots, and trees with leaves
The ancient Druid offers up the cup
The wine of her libations there to sip
He bows his head, as down she stoops to sup
And touch the cup upon her rosy lip
And with this act the sunlight floods the sky
The spell is broken by the touch of earth
And Demeter runs forward with a cry
To hold the maiden that she brought to birth
The seasons come, the seasons go, and all
Shall rise and fall and fade and reappear
And Spring shall once more answer to the call
Of Hades at the dying of the year
But here, by mother love and heat of day
Persephone is made a child again
To run upon the hills; to dance and play
And plant her flowers in the world of men
© Gail Foster 2016
Categories:
tines, england, magic, mother daughter,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
At times I relent to the reflexes
The automatic knowledge of the peripheral nerves
Deftly guiding away from pain
Innately coded protection,
Gifted to all
That we don’t allow the conscious to override
Our cognition
What our atoms knows best
Every fiber of flesh protects the soul or should
From the ravages of love
A smart man once said, “Love will tear us apart”
Only fools listen and did not unhear.
Another man, though many scoffed at his unorthodox pulpit, once said:
“Fear is greater than love, remember that.”
I did not heed.
Which leads me to my reflexes delicately picking up a fork and looking at your photographic image through its tines.
A befitting admonition for your deeds. But a profession on my part that suggests I know your prison.
I do not.
The shinning silver and tinkling tines as it strikes the floor chimes and ferries my mind back to its own endless inventory, and for a split second I think: And what of the thing in each of us that drives us to madness.
Categories:
tines, betrayal, love,
Form:
Free verse
I am lost
Basking in radiant eyes
Like the grass grows fonder
Bending to the sun's sultry cries
Undressing summer’s silhouette
Fall's blushing fingertips
Warmed by the naked thought
Of hope's supple lips
I am crushed
By heaven's downy gait
Rain’s rose petal toes
Caressing tantric throes
For my heart is adrift
Imbued by harmonic hues
Nature's idyllic shoes
Twirling her golden hand
I am cured
By laughter's contagious dare
Leering through lipstick hair
Strawberry tines
Tickling my helpless spine
Springtime invading
Passion parading
That which winter cannot bear
I can taste
The fruit of her fertile kiss
The nectar of blooming bliss
Like sweet wine suckled
From Eden’s weeping vine
The scent of a sacred sign
For only love's bounty
May find her
Categories:
tines, faith, happiness, love, passion,
Form:
Romanticism