Best Tranquilities Poems
Look...See how long nights are drawing in.
Dreary birdsong gradually abates -
Opaque dusk grows dim;
And just outside the creaky little garden
Gate,
Stood opposite the empty wood
Where the vacant threshold silently awaits,
I pause, when, resonating quietly back...
I now hear...
Far distant echoes of my glorious childhood
Tugging like a Siren upon my ear.
With a heartfelt pang I turn to move,
Before my staring should offend some
Old friends ghost
To manifest in vengeful affright,
Towards the comforting sanctuary proffered
By the warm kitchens weak neon light...
That sneaks out from behind the half-shut
Door,
But held - Transfixed!
Brought from wither-not-where to this one
Small place - Staid...
As if caught in a state of heavenly grace,
Conversing to the soft wind in harmonious
Angelic rapport:-
Thus soothes like enchantments waves...
Rolling gently up to repeatedly break upon
Magical banks girdling Nivians lakeshore.
For what be this odd muse
That upon my aging senses does so readily
Enthuse...
And to my inner soul so inextricably
Implore?
Ahhh...But this much I may be allowed to
Say,
Before darkly gathering skies extinguish
Over weak flames of the last spluttering
Ray,
Perhaps it is our inner voice
That seeks out the solitudes of
Tranquilities choice -
To witness and record and dutifully store...
Those rare and fleeting moments
We all too briefly adore.
~
Soft melodies of misted spray
adrift ‘pon glistened air
Cascading waters on display
their touch of moisture’d share
As fern leaf sonnets fill the trees
illumined emerald green
Symphonic spun tranquilities
embrace this peaceful scene
Sweet solitude in whispered song
on crystal stream it flows
O’er polished stone it rolls along
as time so gently slows
This moment, pure serenity
of shimmered heaven’s grace
A world of nature’s harmony
is felt this wondrous place
~
9/10/19
Written for the: Picturesque Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Closing my thoughts to clear my mind; sight....
Floating through a souls time, unto tranquilities breeze
Gently, that I may find, somehow such treasures
The beauty, within all of life ~
Pleasant these things; these paintings dreams....
Leaving the world behind, to embrace "This Light"
Melting inside pristines, immaculate love so bright
Pure as the freshly fallen snow, upon my lashes
Softened feathers; warmth, which tenderly glows ~
Walking along the tides; soothing pictures before my eyes....
Gathering in smiles; hopes; joys; these, drying tears
Splendours moment now turning towards, "The Sun"
Flowing from the tips of the unseen stars; memories
Passing by the dawn of a nighttimes rescinding
Glittering, waving to an ocean of endless hearts; precious ~
Caressing my thoughts to clear my mind; new reflections
Floating through a souls time, unto tranquilities breeze....
Gently that I may find, unrequited; unremitted, love
A canvas thus brushed; a beautiful promise ~
Melting inside, forevermore; leaving the world behind; pure
As the freshly fallen snow, upon my softened lashes; these
Magnificent dreams; majestical tales to be told; unfold
Beyond the brilliant colours of, "A Tomorrows"....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...."Horizon" ~
Behold the pioneering spiritualist, living on the edge
Of the civilizations harshest grid, seeking tranquilities
Harmony beyond the brick lined streets of stress and
Strife of the big city life!
These individualist of true grits foundation, whom live
Life to the fullest extent, tasting the winds of freedom
With every breaths inhalation and exhaling joy of
Revelation in this venue of isolation, known as
Alaska the last frontier!
In clarity’s ice kingdom of the forbidden land, does
Not alone wolf cry echoing, in the timbers breaking dawn
Of twilight's final hour, here endurance's vitality is set to fight and survive this call of the wild struggle!
Within the forest wilderness man and women,
Climb the heights vast divides of the untamable,
To achieve a simpler existence, of our forefathers
Harvesting the ancient theology, of the pioneering
Spirit!
Time reflecting architects thriving on the thrill
To endure, savoring the concurring desire to challenge
Against the obstacles seemingly impassible, living
Off the land and being grateful just for the promise
Of this opportunity to live freely, as men were meant
Too!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
The grumpy principal athwart the class
is walloping the learner ad infinitum
with his computer cable,
and screeching his lungs out
his wrath and his tranquilities;
he says she’s late for school yet again.
Madly she pulls across the desks;
pleads for pity in pigsty floors,
whilst he despite his heavy paunch
chases and corners her.
He whips and whips the weeping non-plussed
girl till the cable slips in his hand. Her tears are
like explosion of waterfall in her cheeks and her pain
still so fresh:
He picks it up and pursues the poor girl
who endeavours to escape from him. She
jumps and climbs atop the desks on her way
to the classroom door but quickly plummets to
the floor to receiving another angry wallop.
As hard as he can he strikes the poor girl till his
hairless bald is dripping wet with sweat. The
learner’s heart is a watershed of fear words
can’t even describe. His visage is sadistic and
turns into something I never liked or loved…
Well, it is over now and the poor girl is
sobbing sadly in the library,
Yet the principal plunges and slouches
over his circling chair in his office. His lips mumbling,
pooped out –In slight remorse of the cruel hiding
he’d given the poor learner; and lugubriously he envisions
the twinge she’s had to bear, but it ain’t no use
for what’s done is done.
Palm-trees and ocean, nights
reviling natures own love,
tranquilities mind
I've come to want for morning leisure
where once the night knew not my haste
now feed my measure of quiet pleasure
trading sleep for tranquilities taste
Tis when I ponder of past and present
an editors choice of will
to learn from tempests I have weathered
hold tight the remnants of joy instilled
For if by chance this day shall fade
the last I've traveled my journey known
to know in conscience I have paid
time in thought of days I've owned
Of love relinquished or that bestowed
facing giants and demons known
in strength or weakness of which I'm prone
to praise the grace and mercy shown
Fickleness in light of providence
pulls back the curtain of chaotic scenes
revealing there a smiling cognizance
of trials hewed to shape sweet dreams
So as my garden vines do cling
and wind their trellis to face the sun
I find myself grateful for broken wings
unable to flee from the man who's come
To win my heart in deep respect
with awe and laughter secure to rest
what joy to cling without regret
to a trellis built by an architect
strong and stable so full of love
tender yet able to strengthen enough
to carry the burden of weight and wind
and fill every dream from without and within
Praise I sing for a man today
who bathed my face in the morning sun
a gift for years stowed away
of "all I dreamed" in pseudonym
In light of grace has come the dawning
of mourning to be no more
and with a ring of promises
the rest of forever with "The One" whom I adore
Quiet pieces of my heart, fragile
Delicate like silk or hope,
Betray the breath of my past,
Aching through the flames
Burning away my disgrace, my shame
Lifting doubt from the shadows
Gentle stars reflect my soul, shimmering
Like laughter from the sun,
Beaming down, erasing the clouds
Creating beauty from the darkness,
Promising faith to always believe
In the wonders that my soul receives
Distant thunders sound through the skies
Abiding in mysteries, tantalizing
Secrets filling my mind,
Coloring memories in hues of longing,
Feelings both kind and compromising,
Publishing joy through the solitary comfort
Hushed sounds, tenuous flakes
Soft like the serenity, the abundance
Whispering tranquilities, abiding
On the powerful authority edging history
With this winter’s caress, the kiss
Sensitive like the miracle, shimmering
Rich with details, my love
Vibrant and strong, curing all
That is wrong, believing – dreaming
Stirring the song, inspirations
Alive on the moments I know as
Beautiful, brilliant stories of my heart
Writing Challenge - C Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
February 2, 2023
S/he knows hot cold felt co-passions
calling to become Bodhisattva Caller,
EarthTown Crier,
co-messianic prophet of brightest gloom
begging prophecies still hiding
winning our least best common denominations
racing diverse nurturing
of ecotherapeutic tranquilities,
resonant resilience
to both call and cooperative calling back
listening through speaking
what has fissured pathological cracks,
powers of matriarchal hurricanes
nurturing yet controlling
Earth's patriarchal steadfast Peter rocks
deaf to nurturing calls of invitation
but best for flat plane echoing
climates full
uprising
evolving
revolutions
calling as we nurture echo-call,
crying as we nature fall,
supplying all we together recall
competing WinWin cooperations,
co-operators
of and for peaceful piracy,
creolic recreations,
trumping each reweaving species
relearning shared vocations
as Solidarity's apprentices.
Climatic avalanches self-invite
what we co-invited yesterday
as bounty.
I saw tomorrow beckoning us just ahead, and it looks so unlike today.
I saw neither evil nor deception blocking our view and standing in the way.
I saw no race, no creed, no bad seed or lusty greed, no grandiose personality.
They dined and spoke of unity, boarders, sovereignties, sacred tranquilities.
I saw the institutes and universities, the think tanks, and military academies.
They researched the oceans' depths and outer space but studied war no more.
I saw justice rolling down like waters. I saw righteousness like an overflowing stream. I saw weapons of war turned into harvest tools and farm equipment.*
This had to be a dream because never had the world experienced this before.
So I quietly left the scene and slowly closed the door only to be confronted,
I must say pleasantly, to another scene leaving no doubt that it was still a dream. The lion and the lamb were no longer adversaries, and the lion was
eating straw. The serpent was no longer frightening nor venomous as he feasted on the dust. It occurred to me that, 'No', it was not a dream that the
whole world was now behaving like a team. It was a prophesy I had read in the Bible about a new world that has 'yet to be'. Just by knowing today, what
tomorrow will be, injects promise and takes away the fear. I heard a pastor say just recently, that we should tune out the bad news and release good news.
It's hard to sort it all out when we are bombarded and saturated with so many points of views. We need not fear, bury our heads in the sand, or head for the
hills. That pastor also said 'that we need to heed and just draw near'. If we but dare to be still and listen, it is with certainty God's voice we will clearly hear.
072820PS*Amos 5:24, Isaiah 2:4
Soul o' thy chirpin' melodies,
Ink o' thy timid symphonies,
Collects me, t'se calmeth tranquilities,
Requiem t'en pierceth my heart,
Blameth me, she, consumed h've I,
The light, b'low the gallow t'at lie,
Blameth me, she, stolen h've I,
The sound, droppeth o'er her lip,
Enigmatic melancholy, me,
Serenely, thou, me h've dippeth,
Solemn agony, fragnance o' thee,
Silent solace, dream o' me,
L'ft shadows o' my licketh be,
Eternal soul, weepeth un'r thy tree,
Why? Trappeth my soul thou,
Why? Not it flow an' fly free,
Bitter wine t'en, show color o' thee.
Humid. The dust of water brushing every surface
Through the strong breeze,
The changing clouds speaking relief as they
Shift through tranquilities.
The shadow of night in the day over us
In the rain pass,
The truth of how it rains on us all erases class.
I think of my dreams to be Rich
Some how saving me.
I feel the soothing of that comfort and power
Fantasizing constantly.
But it rains on us all, every people,
Just the same.
Regardless of power, position, popularity, age,
gender and fame.
Feelings that only exist in the quietness.
Time that only proceeds in the hidden.
Tangled up illusion that is felt in the body.
Pirouetting emotions that never seem to withdraw.
Unspoken needs and desires that have no voice.
Unable to get close enough to a person.
Broken dreams and wishes
True thoughts through gentle touch.
Drowned in ones own self.
Wonders of tomorrow.
Questions about the past.
Swallowed by fears.
Tangled up sentiment.
Weeping scars of yesterday.
Forgiveness of tranquilities.
Smiles that are felt
Dreams that are achieved.
Times that are renewed.
Mending of hearts.
Breaking of ones confidence.
Building of today.
Hopes of the future.
Loving eternal.
Loving on the surface.
Lies and abandonment.
Memories yesterday.
Hopes for tomorrow.
Hellos and goodbyes
Deaths and birth.
Young and old.
Withered and bloomed.
Fake smiles
True ignorance.
Truth and deserving
Ordinary and odd
Unique and blessed.
Passions and sin
Redemption and healing.
Walking of valleys
And clearing of storms
Understanding and denying.
Bliss and pure instinct.
Bringing back and falling down.
A visitor looms in a stagnant space-a witness trespassing in tranquilities chaos,
hovering alongside the end of the earth.
Body existing among muted pigments,
heart painted with shadowed feelings,
encompassed by an interlude of openness,
inhaling its confusion.
A footprint- a physical impression only to be worn away by time,
a reminder that she is a temporary existence.
Wet sand pooled around bare feet gives her prints dimension and meaning,
validating her presence.
Her slender frame enveloped by a white innocence,
clinging to her with desperation,
as if at any moment,
it could be swept away.
She waits.
Brown-eyed gaze reaching over miles of endless freedoms not yet encountered,
but desired.
Faint rays of light dance in between her legs revealing her silhouette,
a fixed presence nestled among nostalgia.
A deafening silence consumes her,
She is victim to her mind.
Clouds hang as if suspended in simplistic solitude, shaping their meaning.
She is but a fixture in the openness of a crowded space.
It comes to warn her,
washing away her bare-footed impression,
revising the meaning of her existence.
Internally, she has surrendered herself to it,
but in her dreams, she has given herself to this place.
Would it feel the need to return, steeped in a greater confidence?
The world is silent, yet her mind is turbulent.
Breathless and consumed, a delicate tear places her at its mercy.
And yet, secretly, she surrenders herself to the inherent notion that
time cannot wash away the footprints in her heart.
On my side of the hemisphere, Old Man Winter begins in December
and meanders through the earth with cold, ice, and snow. With ice-
laced winds, he lashes against my skin, and no one calls it a sin.
He renders the soil under my feet hard as a rock against whom
my socks have no defense. That's why I like September. She
neither burns not freezes, but with a tender stroke, she pleases me.
Spring is mostly nice as she melts the ice along with her bursting force
with new life, resurrecting things long put to death by Winter's sword.
The sound of 'April' is a charm with the melodic tunes of a song that's
arresting and captivating. She's sometimes a teaser though, setting you
up for a windy ride. She may even swallow you in a flood or blow you
away in a tornado. But by and large, she serves the planet well. All the
same though, I like September who doesn't tease but pleases me well.
And oh, the joys of summer are endless. The wedding bells of June;
the show and tells of vacations to distant places. Some like it hot,
lying on their cots and bathing in the sun. Others like being soothed
by the cool beaches and back yard pools. But be warned of the pain
and rain from hurricanes. And be prepared to endure the smoke filled
skies from the heavy flames of wild fires. There's just no comparison
to Sweet September with her savory treats of tranquilities to remember.
I anticipate the golden trees just before they shed their autumn leaves.
September charms me with musical chimes on mild Autumn nights.
The choice is mine, and it's a happy time when September arrives.
091621PS