Best Tremulous Poems
With the tremulous dark vista so far and yet so near
Abandoning my defences ~ I stand in awe ~ not in fear
Virtuoso Maestro unleash
a Composition Grandioso
To Overtures of a Symphony
herald the raging storming Tempo
Staccato Strains cascading
rapid torrents of Treble and Tremolo
Rhythmic Beats a Prelude
to an intensifying Triple Time Scherzo
Silken sail unfurled I embrace the storm of your tempestuous symphony
Crashing~ drifting~ floating~ flowing~ tasting ~awakening my melodic epiphany
Effervescent chilling thrilling air as
Allegro whelms Allegretto
Electrifying sizzling Musette ~
Trills a mesmeric Capriccio
Registers booming Bass Notes
rumbling within your thunderous Vibrato
Echoing claps of thunder Prompt
a spectacular Cadence Crescendo
I release my Spirit to gratify every phantasy in its sight
The soaring Tempest of my Soul liberates its own Philharmonic flight
Inhibitions abandoned as I succumb to your Music of the Night
Footnote:
By way of musical term allegory, I have endeavored to dramatize and romanticize the Awesomeness of an Electrical Thunderstorm and simultaneously likening it to the rush of tactual Sensual, Sexuality and Emotions experienced in romantic instances. I felt that the instrumental rendition of ‘The Phantom’ Musical, aptly accentuates the trepidation, anticipation and elating sentiments portrayed in the various elements of my poem.
HER
the chains —
roses tied ‘round hands and feet,
apple-scented la forza del destino.
the buds claw down her back,
send shivers down her spine,
her head climaxed —
delicate, her perfumed breath.
the thorns gently nibble at her neck,
the wine it draws,
the tongue collects.
HIM
his waist, she grips
with everlasting rose-hips,
the crystal chalice overflows
with deliciousness.
full blossoms, of golden pressed
like a prisoner’s garb unto his chest.
he heaves so hard, suffocating
beneath this veneer of tremulous beauty.
Together
they beg to be released,
their vines intertwined
and fate interjects
with wounds of perspiring lips
solicited to one another
in a kiss of bon chance.
liberated to master their winded flutes
of cherry parfait served with
whipped cream.
7/2/2019
Contest: Slave to Love
Sponsor: John Hamilton
La forza del destino - The power of fate
Bon chance - Good luck
Cherry Parfait - also a type of rose
Nights are restless in dispirited dreams,
treading water in storm-tossed seas.
Starlight guides an uncharted course
when I hear your voice calling me...
hoping to have you again at my side,
sultry eyes gleaming across ebbing tide.
In shallow shoals I stand shivering,
swells swaying in a rhythmic beat
as if they were merciless maelstroms.
But from their lure I seek no release
if from their hold you cannot break free.
Then, I shall perish within their flow
for this reality I have come to know...
My hunger for you will never be sated,
my thirst remains unquenched.
I'm drenched in brine and endlessly search
but yet to find a seraphic solution...
an inkling as to how I can ignite the flame
to light my way while calling your name,
for no matter where my quest leads,
I fail because you're never there.
If to be with you I must face my worst fear,
submerged, entangled in waters deep,
I will find you and wrap you in my arms.
If the bottom of the sea is where you sleep,
my heart will entreat the storm laden sea
to enfold me as it did you, joined in reverie.
I cringe at the desperation of that thought
but my heart is beginning to lose all hope
that it can cope without you at my side.
I cannot hide the dreary darkness inside me,
the bitter starkness and ensuing emptiness
that fills my solemn soul with morbid dread.
Gladly, I would surrender my last breath,
accepting death, forsaking the loneliness
and offer my life... body, mind and soul
without a torrential train of trickling tears
nor wretched frown of fear upon my face
to be with you again each night.
Quivering, I'll wade into tremulous waves
if it means I would be reunited with you
somewhere in reality... anywhere but here...
in dire doldrums of my dreams each night.
Even now, they beckon me into their depths.
If to love you, I must drown; I dare say I will,
surrendering to the fate of my destined plight.
I let up the shade, as the sun has gone down
watching evening come in at the end of the day
It brings with it colors of umber and rust
while earth swallows dusk, which is fading to grey
From the living room window, I am hoping to see
geese flying back to their warm winter homes
All nature seems normal, routine, once again
whatever normal we can find after rain
Winter is coming and a new year begins
How will it be now, this journey, untried?
As we travel new miles, fresh grief on our sleeves,
with a tremulous smile, and with anguish and pride
Cold days arrive....There is talk on the hill
where tall pine trees have whispered
reminding the creek, and the ash trees are shedding
and katydids will not call out condolences in the dark
Soon enough, when the lark sings, wet grass will need tending
stacks of shutters will need painting,
and snow will yet need to be pushed aside
How will they cope..?
He's not here to do it...but somehow we hope
they will wade their way through it..
But for now , at a kitchen table
for these brief moments, they are able
to laugh, argue, and have fun...
Someone shouts out, "I won!"..
Joy is hard work...but it needs to be done
_________________________________________________________
If I had but one last sorrowful day of my life left,
there would be words I would say without delay.
Too long have I struggled, uncertain and bereft,
my tongue silent as though mired in a pit of clay.
Until now, I found myself sifting sand from my soul.
Now, willing to bare my heart's unavowed affection,
I must find the bravura to proclaim it and be bold,
and yet I find myself fearing your gentlest rejection.
Time warily squandered shall never be returned.
So, I'm seeking courage to reveal what I am feeling,
while hoping my sweet ardor shall not be spurned
nor the love for you that I have long been concealing.
Gleaming are stars hovering aloft in evening skies,
but if gathered together, never could they outshine
the luster I descry in the fulgent light in your eyes
when the beat of your heart and mine finally align.
When the pale moon rises to Heaven at zenith height,
its glorious beauty shall emerge from a lunar eclipse.
Not as seductively alluring to be with you on the night
when alas I shall feel a kiss from your sensuous lips.
Thereafter, sunlight shall yawn on the edge of dawn
but your love shall warm me more than his golden rays.
No greater fire is there to be compared with love born
by your searing touch that easily sets my heart ablaze.
If this is but a fantasy, I dare not lift tremulous eyes to see
the response to my avowal, if on your face it is defined.
I shall not bear the heartache if you turn away from me,
for then it would be a benediction, if my eyes were blind.
January 29, 2023
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 26 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Originally written in 2016
for a contest sponsored by John Hamilton
I write upon the nimble hands of fleeting time
careful not to leave my musings behind
Sometimes penning with haste and speed
trying not to forget
a relevant word or phrase seen in my mind's eye
that could be a crucial poetic thought
When tremulous mourning escapes my wistful heart
I am overcome with sorrow and cry
tears of desolation, and yet,
it is the balm I need.
Writing offers comfort, but never peace of mind
Love sonnets, I still write for him, in rhyme.
When the clock swings its pendulum and starts to chime
I become annoyed but always resigned
to accept that my heart will bleed.
Happiness owes a debt,
paid when loved ones are taken; a price much too high
as the clock mocks me, "Time cannot be bought."
January 31, 2021
My Invented Form - I Write Upon Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Syllable count verifed with HMS
[heptapent sonnet]
The Sun has been off, hiding, where its warmth is far from here,
its lustrous fingers stroking other planes.
And I, abandoned to the winter's ruthless time of year,
exist in hope that somewhere spring remains.
The wind will blunt the spirit like a whittler dulls a knife.
The darkened days will bleed intention dry.
It seems that surely all the world stands, tremulous and rife
with creeping cold, as icy snowflakes fly.
I long for gentle summer days, where bluebirds light and sing
from flowering trees where blossoms flutter down;
to dance with fireflies in sacred starlight, worshiping
the moonbeams, dressing me with lucent crown.
Here I await, with cherished hope that summer's melody
will loose the arms of winter's will that binds the joy in me.
POTD 4th Nov 2019
Vanquishing all reservation
twilight's prelude heralds
shadowy anticipation
of a secret amorous thirst
He surrenders once more
to his darkest desires
amplifies the sultry ambiance
with star spangled bursts
A slave in her entity
tremulous in her splendour
Captivating and illuminating
this shadowy tryst
yet her heart beats not in rhythm
to the songs he composes
she dismisses him once more
Saying… ‘it is what it is’
However, through chinks of his ardour
ebbing resplendence
Predominant primacy
hard to resist will persist
refusing to believe …’it is what it is’
refusing to believe …’it is what it is’
The intricacies of love
too difficult to fathom
Her preference mismatched
he cannot define
her daily mantra
heightens sensations
reserved for the one
who appears to outshine?
Nothing but ineffectual
is her discordant course
the unyielding reality
of it drives him insane
and through the ebbing darkness
she hears him screaming ….’it is NOT what it is
It is Not what it is’
No satin ropes will tether
her cosmic line of duty
No romantic soft liaison
would induce her to stay
Tremulous and tender
her love cruelly wanders
from his romantic serenade
she turns her light away
Succumbs to his enemy…Day
whispering softly…. ‘it is what it is
It is what it is’
POTD 4th Nov 2019
He toddles toward the pebbles, tumbling the smooth stones over
in his four year old palms, rubbing them like Aladdin’s lamp, tossing
them back into the mix, impishly shining with the zest of a boy.
He sees the overflow of snowy petals, finds the lowest hanging
stem, the gardenia bends to touch his greenhorn nose. Forever
that scent will remind him of grandma’s garden like she remembers
the tubes of trumpet petals in her own grandparents’ backyard. A
twinkle of tremulous joy impacting the fingers of her and her siblings.
The rare treat of parties, the round table laughter, heartfelt antiquity.
The boy explodes from the bottom of the driveway into the steep
mossy front yard, feeling each measured bounce, ne’er a straight
path to the door, exploring the red and yellow roses, the crumbling
timbers, walking the wall, following scurrying lizards, stepping on
ants, a roving eye for the fearful red, yet no thought of turtle monsters
nor copperheads that have precariously occupied my property,
nor coyotes that have encroached the boundaries. Unboundless energy,
nerve, verve of a courageous man in the making, trampling his feet,
owning the property then oh so gently snapping a stem, handing
his childhood princess a gift, pulling strings of a puppet’s heart,
winding the twine like pulling in a windswept kite, ever learning
nuances of my mind, tucked away to love, rebell and trust.
6/1/19
Somewhere in midnight’s nocturnal hallways
As the chill settles down with starlight
While the world stands silent in waiting
There abiding with his flock walks the shepherd
Hopeful in thought and yet weary of foot
He moves his charges through the bite of night
His hope in the coming dawn lifts his burdens
Filling his minds eye with warm musings of tomorrow
In tones they beseech the day and challenge darkness
But through this constant cycle of shine and shadow
The guardian of the flock stands steadfast and waits
The promise begins as His voice appears cherubically
Falling in fear and praying for strength of faith
The radiance in the sky softens ever slightly
Speaking of the vow and announcing the messiah
Who brings the world a love and a hope yet tasted
Tremulous breath’s as the promise is spoken
Awing the greatness with a loving and respectful fear
Silent in belief beholding the coming miracle
He stirs the somnolent flock down the slopes
To bestow upon all the gift of this divine hour
His breath brittle’s the final icy moments of dusk
He labors the trail with renewed strength of heart
Proclaiming hushed gratitude within every step
A beacon of brilliance converges in the heavens
Beckoning his faithful west toward little Bethlehem
Dropping to his knees his face wetted in thanks
Finally understanding what is gripping his soul
He sees the precarious pathway laid before him
Though he has journeyed into the unknown before
None had brought with it a promise so precious
Once significant and alluring, your luster faded.
Perhaps it was the treachery in hollow eyes jaded.
Was there ever a light
in a soul dark as night?
Promises of love only heralded grief;
faith I once had turned to disbelief.
She was younger, pretty, but above all newer.
Agony in my heart came from betrayal’s skewer.
How could I blame her when I knew that soon
your allegiance would change like the inconstant moon?
She would then feel the fickle pitchfork of pain -
those knots in her stomach twisted by emotions feigned.
Only now can I see you for what you are.
Anger settled; no longer do we spar.
Bitterness made way for resignation again.
Maybe I shall once more learn to trust men.
Then I can guide your latest castaway
and ease the surging sting of her dismay.
Your fate rests on a tremulous shore
where, as looks fade, you can offer nothing more.
*Written November 21, 2014
Confused silence swirls around my feet,
and the anguished summer leaves,
drunk with the morning dew,
are lingering limp.
Waiting for autumn
Preparing to crumble and mingle with earth
Somewhere beneath them
under the thunder and a tremulous sky
earth wears the scabs of old wounds
There are places that can't be forgotten...
corrupt with mourning
sprouting with questions
immersed with regret
hollowed with anger
and shadowed by trees of despair
Birch-bark faces, heads bent low, shadowed eyes
stone-cold voices, are carried in the wind,
held captive behind disguise
Mute birds watch without a song
The leaves will decay, green goes, and the eye forgets
But can the heart forget? Never....
How does one walk away
while pawing on the hard and bitter earth
of reason, remains impossible...?
Autumn comes
and autumn goes
I can only live in hope that baffled minds
will clearly see a winter sun
and give up blaming ... who?
_________________________________
High upon the highest heights
I see the most tremulous sight
A small girl, fair and tranquil
Smiling strangely, sitting still
Beneath a sobbing willow tree
She recites a verse upon her knee
She sings a rhythmic hymn
Not of death, nothing grim
But prays that life will return
Even for those who are doomed to burn
The girl is a woman now
Beneath the tree and upon the cloud
She whispers, “I am watching you”
Why then are you so blue?
A single tear of sadness and joy
Rejuvenate the quirky earthly boy
Who sits down beneath the blooming tree
Listening to her silent voice attentively
She reminds him she was once young too
That she also was a misty shade of blue
But when the boy grows into man
He has come to ignore the fair woman
Who watches him still from above
Burning and swelling with disdainful love
The ways of the world have sweltered his heart
And time has torn his soul apart
Thus he has lost all innocence and light
Battling his sinful lust—an endless plight!
I watch as he feeds on others’ pains and fears
Reducing the vigilant woman to tears
The prayer of the innocent has been ignored
Life has died and hellfire stored
Into the hearts of the impotent
In blue, fires of haze their heart is sent
Toiling in misery and lament
Savaged and severed by our regret
The heavenly woman grows old and frail
And the man still treads the sinful trail
As the rotting tree withers into dust
Can I revive it? –I must!
Low as low can possibly be
I watch myself condescendingly
A tombstone, gray and hell-bent
Frowning knowingly in bewilderment
Above the dust that once was a tree
She cries out a verse anxiously
Faintly she whispers the undying hymn
Not of happiness, nothing of whim
And prays that life will come to end
For those that break instead of bend
Quench the sun with a clinging mist
And adorn the land with amethyst;
The grape already touched with frost
Finds clustered fruit will soon be lost.
The wind catches the leaves that fall
And birds head south with anxious call;
Frost comes quick to lick the flowers
Who droop their heads in long lost hours.
The crimson leaves brush bark that's rough
To show leaves and bark are tree enough;
And in the woods squirrels gather nuts
While sleepy beasts look for winter huts;
And the tremulous wing of a butterfly
Etch fluttering flight in a sapphire sky.
Up above shines a full harvest moon
To hide the memories of long lost June;
She shines with the aura of a gypsy rose
With the in between of winter's snows.
Then the faded earth and leaden sky
Bid October a sad goodbye.
Skipping along with three friends by her side
Anticipation was high.
Whirling tornadoes had long disappeared;
Not a dark cloud in the sky.
Yellow as daffodils was the brick road,
Yellow the ripening corn,
And it had coloured the heart of the lion
Leaving him sad and forlorn.
Suddenly Dorothy stopped in her tracks
‘Was that you, Scarecrow’ she said.
‘Whispering jibberish under your hat?
I didn’t quite catch the thread’.
‘No it was me’ piped a tremulous voice
‘Cast your eyes down to the ground’.
Yellow as summer sun, creeping along
Such a sad creature they found.
‘Please can you help me escape from this path,
Life is so treacherous here.
Camouflaged as I am with the brick road,
For my own life I do fear’.
Off to the Wizard they wended their way
Shy caterpillar in tow,
Full of bright hopes of a change to their lives,
For it had been promised so.
After the Wizard had heard the bug’s plea
This was his bitter reply.
'You must return to the yellow brick road
And life will change by and by.’
Heavy of heart, and with tears in his eyes,
Back to face danger he crept.
So much for miracles, life was unfair;
His fate he’d have to accept.
Change started happening after a while,
Feelings he couldn’t explain,
But as he flew o’er the yellow brick road
His heart felt joyful again.
19/11/18
'Off to see the wizard poetry contest' : Sponsored by: Charles Messina