Best Transformation Poems
Sunlight rains upon my face
Cascading memories cloaked in mystery
Kissing my eyelids
Ancient teardrops glide down my cheeks
Warmth illuminating my hungry soul
A sense of calm
A pulsating ellipse emerges before me
I dive into the magenta abyss
Releasing my wounded heart from its cage
Fear resides
Primal vibrations guide me
Becoming one with galaxies and starlight
My limbs relax
I flow ~ I undulate
I swim in the warmth of the universe
Time and space have become me and I them
Perched on a massive salt-stained boulder
Gazing towards the briny distance
Shades of White
A passionate brushstroke across the horizon
Sky and sea in a lover’s embrace
Caw .... caw ..... caw....
I feel you beckon me
Swallowing the sweet pit of truth
Nudged by a warm gust
I look down seeing the bundle
cradled in my arms
Your endless gaze speaks lifetimes of wisdom
Birth, struggle, bliss, challenge, and death
I watch you intently readying yourself
to pounce upon your unsuspecting prey
Riding this timeline of life
Together as one
Tick tock
Forward backward
Inward to the beating center of creation
Young one I see your sage reflection
In my gilded hand mirror
Me here and you there
Your smiling eyes
Tearing at my core
Come float with me
In sheer turquoise splendor
Adorned with seaweed crowns and abalone jewels
Rays of light penetrate the watery depths
Colonies of majestic stingrays hover nearby
Welcoming us to join their scared dance forevermore
In dizzying rounds rain goes up and down;
see the heat of the day steamroll the lawn.
Mist ascends; then back again, dew rebounds;
to bathe the leaves, kiss the breeze, rain fawns.
A lawn moss green down by the stream at dawn
is frosted with a sprite haze of frail fog.
Born of goosebump nights are damp morns,
where water falls translucent in the bog.
With a sizzling sound the rain dropped adorns
the lilies in the bog on rheumy morns.
On mountains high the rain falls white disguised
as snow; sun turns snow to ice, down it goes.
In dizzy rounds rain pounds, the sun complies
and all this a high power has composed.
Water disguised is a gift that God's composed.
In this pestilential year time forgot
behind maskless faces false facts hold sway,
it’s hard to write nice, when our world is not
what should a poet in quarantine say?
Behind maskless faces false facts hold sway,
while plague is loose and climate still warming
what can a poet in quarantine say
no one cares about daffodils charming.
While plague is loose and climate still warming
yet best science alerts go unheeded
no one cares about daffodils charming
at this time transformation is needed.
When best science warnings are not heeded
it’s hard to write nice, when our world is not
for this time transformation is needed
in this pestilential year time forgot.
the deer died with her eyes open
which means she watched herself
become field
something permeable
I found her on the third day of autumn—
found autumn wearing her decaying hide
like a hand-me-down dress
the flies had already written their poems
in the metaphors of her throat:
small black punctuation, multiplying
I wanted to close her eyes
but my hands passed through
what I once believed was boundary
later the biologist told me
decomposition is just the body
finally telling the truth
about how many selves were always
inside you waiting to be released—
even the child who never grew old enough
to be revision
now when I say I, I mean the forty trillion
bacteria who call this dirt-body home
I mean the deer
the flies
I mean the light
that passed through her
and landed here
in this poem
which is just another way of being eaten
which is just another word for love
by the porous self
As I walk upon this road of life…
I desire the path absent from strife…
Free from monetary delusions…
Free from Egocentric energy games of confusion…
Moving from hoping there is greater purpose to existence…
Into knowing the significance of removing resistance…
Floating within the ocean of motion, seeking to find inner peace…
Surrendering to the will of inquisitive nature, allowing false beliefs release…
Show me my dreams, revealing true desires…
Show me the mystery to ignite the passionate intension fire…
Show me my source of loves purity…
Free from judgments latent with fearful insecurities.
Floating within the ocean of motion, seeking to find inner peace…
Surrendering to the will of inquisitive nature, allowing false beliefs release…
I am a seed floating among winds of change…
Nurtured by the fertility of divinity…
To flourish is to breathe…
Mind is the soil for my seeds of desire…
My spoken word is the sunlight, the water…
Creating materialization of tangible fruit…
Floating within the ocean of motion, seeking to find inner peace…
Surrendering to the will of inquisitive nature, allowing false beliefs release…
Was it illusion,was it a dream?
That Garden in moonlight , ink
Dark sky. A single cloud like a
Razor passing. Black tree stretched
High and it’s claws scratched the
The milky way.Rectangular pond
Black as crude oil deadly still, I
Kneel and gaze deep within; like
Narcissus enamoured and
Transformed. A door into
Summer opens, blinding light
And in one stroke, my Garden
Is no more.
Born in a valley's secluded mountain range
Wandered along the rivers clear
Knelt in havens carved in a forest
Escaped to dwell at ocean's shore
Enticed to follow budding dreams
And there, while chasing butterflies
The barren desert bloomed
“Transformation of winter into spring shares hopeful hearts” by Poet
Winter’s Transformation
Bird songs reverberate from tree to tree
songs that elate when they reach the ears.
Spring is almost here and the birds are in tune.
Wistful dreams of warmth and tulips abound.
The willow weaves her magic with breezes
by the lake leaving ripples in their wake.
Mother Nature enchants us with winter wonders
she provides in melting snow on mountain tops,
as colors peek through sharing their delightful hues.
Radiant sun transforms snow into cascading river’s flow.
Hibernation ends and sleepy bears awaken hungry
as they venture forth for food near river’s edge.
On the distant forest floor creatures large and small
welcome the changing season with renewed invigoration.
Rain on open meadows grows a sea of golden dandelions
moving in winsome waves with the wayward wind.
Chill of winter ends in bursts of colors in surround sounds.
2-24-22
F Form - Free Verse- New - Poetry Contest~First Place~
Sponsored by: Constance La France
1. Nature
TRANSFORMATION – a weird Choka
Our dear Uncle Claude
He loved us kids we loved him
He always brought us candy
Called him Santa Claude
Strange thing though this steady change
Now he’s called Aunt Claudia
............................................................
This is not a true story
I saw it in the deep river of red,
and goose bumps arose on my flesh.
Stepping in to the cool, cool water,
I sunk deeper surrounded in spirits matter.
Currents took me by the hand
pulling me further across the land.
I came upon this light of blue
rejoicing as away my ego flew
leaving me free to take spirits hand.
I walked with spirit for a long, long while,
relishing the benevolence with my peaceful smile.
He spoke of things that I held within my soul;
A kindness and gentleness was my true goal.
He showed me the truth from his lightness of being
a picture of forgiveness for all living beings.
It was only here that we would find
a pureness of love to carry us during this time.
I thanked spirit gladly then returned back to shore.
Gale Lynne
Oh translucent the body takes it's ovoid shape,
An amalgam of life from inside it's bloated state,
Pro choice and glistening,
latching in a confined space of creation,
As outside light penetrates to it's depth and core,
Taking energy blessedly to it's segmented form,
Steady development throughout the course of time,
White connecting with the embryo as the blastoderm grows,
From a yoke source of life in the balance and throes
Great challenge in this incubation period,
With passion for life and birth,
A deep search for air cells breathing the first inhalation of spacious scenes
We've crept through evolution with the same stages reached,
We step past our dreams shell shocked we walk on by,
Casting this shadow over death like we are all god like,
No type of crack shows how perfect certain skins can be shed,
Blessed with new life like hatching from an egg
RUINS OF TRANSFORMATION
Hands hold, faces face
Eyes lock, bridge distance
Time stops in silent grace.
Hands hang, faces distort
Eyes glare, bridge burns
Past crashes, time aborts.
Minds close, hearts abrade
Egos blaze on identity incinerated
Pledges wreck, bonds degrade.
Road deserted in journey to isolation
Past keeps the future shrouded
Time rues the ruins of transformation.
Written : February 24, 2018.
March 27, 2020
Contest : Strand Choice R, Any Form Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
More often, this soul stretches
farther than the breath of a moon....
and through jaded eyes,
I saunter on the ledge of woodland,
past time's curfew and sharp lacerations
from kin's betrayal : a wanton walk
glazes the ripeness of cherries----
that such pageant from susurrus of woods
weaves a new , disparate tune.
I twirl along pebbles and sand,
kindling night's liniment
glorious as the slow climb of dusk...
this shard of pain spewing a wanton blaze
--radiant like a celestial star rising
from chambers, healing my ache
and waking pewter stones
while I half- slumber in a lull...
and I wrap my navel in soft linen,
the flickering, feathering night
differently cloaked in such nourished balm.
--I must be changed, my world honoring piety,
a lesson on life's lesion imbued through
the fragrant balm of my long , journey's song.
Cradling every scar,
Singing each pain to the wind,
Till I owned my song.
i flicker
when spoken of
glow
in the breath
you shouldn’t have wasted
on apologies
ash settles like snow
on the bones of yesterday
still warm
if you press hard enough
to blister
i eat
whatever dares to name me--
anger
love
home
god
you told me
i burned too easily
but you lit the match
and called me beautiful
beneath my skin
a cinder waits
i have never ended
i have only gone quiet
for now