Best Trickled Poems
The wood was perfect.
Hammer in hand, he toiled.
Sweat trickled down his neck.
Her face was chiselled,
A perfect portrait:
The hawk-like nose,
The high cheekbones,
The wide brow.
But not her flaring eyes.
They defied him.
In exasperation, he threw the lamp,
His only source of light,
And watched the wood burn.
In the deserted cabin.
In a wooded glen forlorn,
When the fire subsided
They found his body
Long dead, carbonised and cold.
And a piece of chiselled wood
Charred and worthless.
originally written in 10/4/2016
Categories:
trickled, anger, fantasy, fire,
Form:
Free verse
My beloved ...
Take me to the memory
a never lasting dream
which lived in yester yesterday
long before destiny took its toll
and footprints marked separate paths
Take me back to that December night
when we ran holding hands
to the cottage down the hill
by fields of evergreen
I am there....
you are too.....
Kissing snowflakes from my lips
as moonglow shadows fall
upon silk wisps of auburn hair
How can I not remember
your palms' gentle rub
brushing raindrops
which trickled ever so slow
across the softness of my skin
I can still smell the scent
of your warm breath upon my neck's nape
~Honey and lemon~
I can still hear that hush hushed whisper
beneath the tender of my ear
Still live the feeling of your fading kiss
upon each flutter of my lash
My beloved
Carry me back to those sheets
which know the colour of your eyes
Let me travel to the cradle
of those arms and perfumed wine
Let me travel to that smile
within the blossom of your heart
~Scattered petals in a breeze
where velvet embers never sleep~
Let my slippery fingers slide
to the soft hairs of your back
as you unbutton my last piece of innocence
as the corners of your mouth fulfill with juices
from the crimson of ripe peaches
As my soul opens to fire ,and you enter into flames
My beloved
Take me to that night
where I tickled your wilderness
where you sank in my deep
where our sin was sacred
and lust carried no shame.
Categories:
trickled, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
I may never know what exactly happened,
but I think I know the why of it
Tadhana…Fate…Destiny…Kismet…
Put it in so many words,
but it all boils down to that.
Tadhana…
shivers down my spine,
tears prickling my eyes,
as I hear once more the story,
the destiny
of two souls
one stormy day in July…
She was being stupid,
crashing into the waves that day
just for the thrill of it
He was being pensive,
reflecting on how those waves
just somehow seemed to soothe him
People slowly left the shores
as dark clouds loomed in the horizon
save for these two souls...
She wasn’t even supposed to be there,
just a spur of the moment thing,
forgetting her other worries
she loved storms, she loved the beach
combine them and for her it was bliss…
He went there for closure,
the 10th year of his brother’s death
trying to accept that he did all he could
he loved him, he loved the beach
but guilt drowned him…
The rains then came down in sheets,
winds whipping, storm waves crashing
she was almost at shore though,
when the undertow pulled her back
He thought he was imagining things,
his brother’s ghost perhaps?
When he saw her again,
and fear was tossed like jetsam
Was she the answer he was seeking for?
His redemption in another form?
Was this the reason why he was here now?
Her only hope for salvation?
Rushing out to sea,
adrenaline rushing through his veins
Faith and Fate working together,
he swam towards her
and as they reached the shore
the winds dropped to a whisper,
the waves went back tickling sand,
the raindrops trickled into drizzles
She was breathing, thank God
He lay beside her, exhausted
She could only thank him with a smile
well, a smile that could match the Sun
and she took his hand...
and put it over her heart
It was not so much that their hands fit perfectly,
but there was something else...
mole on her right ring finger
perfectly aligning
mole on his left ring finger
Tadhana.
Shivers down my spine,
tears prickling my eyes,
as I hear once more the story,
the destiny
of two souls
one stormy day in July…
and of why I am here.
** tadhana is a Tagalog word, it can be translated as fate/destiny/kismet
July 25, 2010
Categories:
trickled, inspirational, life, loveday,
Form:
Narrative
The little girl stood outside the candy store
Pressing her nose against the window
Her lips wet
Trying hard to swallow
What the sight of those candies
Produced in abundance in her mouth...
The liquid anticipation of taste
It had been a long time
Since a candy
Had slowly dissolved
On her playful tongue
Oh, the bliss
Yet she knew….
She could not have one
She looked longing at one particular kind
Her friend had given her just a lick of
Oh…it was so divine
She wanted one…all to herself
Not to share with anyone
To savor…..alone
To savor…long
Tasting every single flavor
That would burst on her tongue
How she wanted it
To fill her mouth with sticky sweetness
To help her forget
The bitterness of her days and nights
A little tear trickled down her cheek
Slowly she pulled herself away
And trudged on past the candy store
Perhaps, she was just not meant
To have certain treats
She smiled through her tears
As she kicked a stone aside
Now that she had seen it
At least she could dream
Of floating away
On sugary cotton candy clouds
Of wispy pink
Savoring in her mouth
the glorious sweetness
Of her forbidden treat
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Categories:
trickled, allegory, candy, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
My Beloved
Take me to the memory
A never lasting dream
which lived in yester yesterday
long before destiny took its toll
and footprints marked separate paths
Take me back to that December night
when We ran holding hands
to the cottage down the hill
by fields of evergreen
I am there,You are too
Kissing snowflakes from my lips
as moonglow shadows fall
upon silk wisps of auburn hair
How can I not remember
your palm's gentle rub
brushing raindrops
which trickled ever so slow
across the inner of my sigh
I can still smell the scent
of your warm breath upon my neck's nape
(Honey and Lemon)
I can still hear the hush hushed whisper
'neath the tender of my ear
Still live the feeling of your fading kiss
upon each flutter of my lash
My beloved
Carry me back to those sheets
which know the colour of your eyes
Let me travel to the cradle
of those arms and perfumed wine
Let me travel to that smile
within the blossom of your heart
(Scattered petals in a breeze
where velvet embers never sleep)
Let my slippery fingers slide
to the soft hairs of your back
as you unbutton my last piece of innocence
as the corners of your mouth fulfill with juices
from the crimson of ripe peaches
As my soul opens to fire,and you enter into flames
My Beloved
Take me to that night
where I tickled your wilderness
Where you sank in my deepest
Where our sin was sacred
and lust carried no shame
Pasionata is a re-post of an oldie of mine,thought to post it again
till I am mused to write something new :)
Categories:
trickled, passion,
Form:
Free verse
When my heart could no longer illuminate,
I gazed towards horizons shrouded in blurry blackness,
revealing the agony of my sorrows to the moon.
Wondering if it would gift me a beloved
that reflects within my heart like an effervescent lamp.
One that would recognise my voice,
leading me to my dream world.
Suddenly a jewel from the sky descended like sunset.
I followed its path of sparkling stardust upon malachite meadows,
so I could have a glimpse of this unseen artistry.
I will never forget the first time she called my name,
nor the tingling sensations of an abundance of internal butterflies.
There she was, an untouched treasure.
Was she the one to endow me with pleasure?
Her precious persona enticed my sullen demeanour,
as it beamed like a billion streetlights,
reminding me of an unfinished song,
where the silence in between heartbeats was her name -
the last lyric to an omitted chorus.
Sapphire skies reappeared
bringing back absent sunshine,
Its radiant rays glowing upon her shadow.
Her eyes dazzled like bronze gems.
Her ruby red lips revealed a smile
brighter than a million pearls.
Her golden locks of hair glistened,
gently blowing in the aura of her magnificence.
I'll never forget the first time she cried,
her diamond tears trickled upon my chest,
like little stars glittering in her gloom,
concluding our unwritten poem,
memorised within the backstreets of our minds.
I can still savour the taste in my mouth -
She said her mascara was waterproof,
yet it's engraved within my soul
like an eternal tattoo.
The Silent One
21 February 2022
Categories:
trickled, love, poetry, romantic love,
Form:
Free verse
hanging in the air
humidity’s heaviness . . .
the river’s slow crawl
On the Mississippi lies the beautiful little city where I once lived. How many times I trudged up inclined streets; or leaning forward, red-faced and panting, pressed up slopes with all my might, feet on pedals of my purple Sting-ray bike, urging myself not to dismount prior to reaching glorious level ground! The damp beneath my clothing in those days was a given. Simply stopped to rest. . . sipping pop underneath a tree, I would often feel rivulets of sweat that trickled down beneath my underarms, a surfeit which caused circle stains to appear beneath the arms of short-sleeved shirts or on Sundays, beneath the flowered dresses that I wore to church. However, despite the heat’s discomfort, it was summer, after all!
counting down the days
until the school bell’s last ring -
a fling with summer
Released from stifling classrooms for vacation, I eagerly embraced the sun. . .and how I played! Kickball with the neighbors, visits to the city pool with my sisters and friends, bike rides to parks or into town, where I spent my allowance on records and treats, and hours racing eagerly through the pages of Nancy Drew books in front of a cooling fan - all these things consumed me.
It was in the month of August, and more than a decade of muggy summers later that I found myself transplanted in a desert. As if thrust into a giant pre-set oven with a noose about my neck, I learned firsthand the meaning of “slow roast.” Here, in the new and different place where I've now lived most of my adult life, the heat can leave one with a burn like acid watered down, a deep sensation lingering in skin long after sun has left the sky. Perspiration may just evaporate before it has a chance to wend its way along the body’s contours. Discomfort notwithstanding, there’s no pain. Acclimated to these summers now, I find that it is easier for me to breathe in August heat than it was the first time I’d ever encountered it. Released from stifling work, I go outside into the oven, pen in suntanned hand!
sunshine reflections
so many summers have passed
writing till twilight
Categories:
trickled, life,
Form:
Haibun
(Coming Back Home)
Crimson sunsets trickled beyond the moor
Opulence of one’s youth a mindset forever stays,
Miracle of homely birthplace the lure
Inspired by non-forgotten special days.
Neon lights above the door lost their glitter
Garish gowns grew tired torn and tatty,
Bothersome marriage a divorce turned bitter
Asylum that sends a sane person batty.
Calling out aloud in hope a childhood listens
Kindred spirit says let the passing of time begin,
Heart and mind to put behind all that glistens
Oh, and the carousel of show biz and the spin.
Memories are many so are the steps to climb
Epic journey the apex or slippery slope for a dime.
© Harry J Horsman 2021
Categories:
trickled, remember,
Form:
Acrostic
A spiritual sickness enveloped my stagnant heart.
I searched for her in darkened obscure visions,
A futile illusory chase that led to a desert of love.
Had I become addicted to her presence?
Deep in my heart, I knew that all was distorted.
I wondered if I really loved her,
Yet I could not bear the loss, knowing her as I did.
Finally, she disappeared from circulation,
It left my strength sapped from a wide goose chase.
Life trickled by slowly, as I lost my job, wasted my money,
Rendering my situation an almost irreparable ruin and loss.
Looking back, recollecting my bad choices
It took me some time to discern the inevitable damage
That rendered my skeletal life beyond repair.
Could I renew and restore my affluent fortunes?
Life had its ups and downs, like desert dunes.
All I needed was a fertile oasis. Walking on the hot sand
Was painful but I had to try. I began my journey anew.
Will I ever learn? Who knows? One can only hope.
After all, the desert is never endless though it may seem so.
Categories:
trickled, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
My spirit flew away to far off lands,
travelling over hills and vales,
o'er seas and deserts dry,
until it arrived high
on a cold chain of ridges,
where soft winds caressed my face,
freshness embalmed my inner self.
Perhaps that's why I saw her there, alone
lying on her back, gazing up at the sky
savouring the exquisite joy of silence.
For in that treasured tranquillity
dreams have room to spiral
from the depth of her eidetic memories
renewed and revived, never forgotten.
Out of that quietude she heard
the soft voice of her essence,
reflections of her life,
the joys of motherhood,
the fulfilment of love,
the pangs of parting,
the pain of illness,
the weakness of humanity,
the dreams and emotions
that ebbed, flowed and ebbed again.
I knew she left her home town
deserting her desolate living
renouncing all the humdrum of city lights.
No wonder she flew away
seeking refuge on a mountain side,
above a cascade of water,
lying on the sweet grass
that bordered the lonely stream.
For here she was at peace.
Relief tears trickled down her cheeks:
she could never really forget.
My spirit felt for her for I could feel
that deep inside her was beauty never bound.
I knew despite her tears,
she was happy there:
oh, that she could remain
on that pretty mountain nook
holding tight to hope:
happy amongst the heather
near the tumbling brook
for ever and evermore.
Categories:
trickled, love,
Form:
Free verse
the red ran ...
trickled slowly from mouth's
corner down to where it
disappeared beneath the collar of
the little boy's SpongeBob
t-shirt -
bleached white turning crimson ...
the streak wound
its bloody path across cooling
cappuccino skin, a tender
surface that only
moments earlier was aglow with
the salty sweat of play -
tingling with the soft breath
of afternoon ...
the doctor watched
another rill of blood run south
on the child's neck as he
cradled the wee, limp body in his arms
and thought, (in irony), how its
weaving traces reminded
him of the soft, gentle sweep of a
cob swan's wake ...
the early-morn pattern left
in the glassy surface of the lake
where he once lived
as a lad ...
where this beautiful, broken
child might have been -
should have been, certainly - were it
not for the chances of birth
and the horrid, senseless
accursed hand ...
of war.
Categories:
trickled, death, war,
Form:
Free verse
The old man had always had an unnatural fondness
for the animal but could never seem to bond with human easily,
with the exception of a special, dear grandmother. His mind
wandered back to his childhood, the Christmas eve of 1958 about
a special chore that he was required to do of his parents…….
“Being”
To be or not to be
One two three,
Five more to go…
The eight year old counted the puppies his female Border collie
had given birth to only three days earlier. The words of his parents
echoed in his ears, “We can’t have so many dogs around the house,
we can’t feed them all. You will have to dispose of them,
she is your dog, your responsibility.” The lad wiped the tears from
his eyes, as he prepared reluctantly to smash another head against
a large stone which he had selected. “Smash!” not a whimper.
He had become proficient at this chore.
“Being”
To be or not to be
One two three four,
four more to go.
The remaining puppies snuggled together for warmth in the cold
December breeze. I can’t do this his conscience screamed as his
young mind reasoned, “You have to, mom said, and dad will be home
in the evening. You will get a licking such as you have never gotten before.” “Smash!” not a whimper. The blood trickled down his finger tips.
“Being”
To be or not to be,
One, two, three, four, five,
Three more to go, He looked at the huge stone, “The killing stone” he
thought as he prepared to finish all three of the remaining puppies
in one swift moment if possible. “Smash! Smash! Smash!” It was over
he gave a sigh of relief as he gathered the tiny, still bodies into a small
shoe box that was to be the coffin of burial. He quickly buried the box
with the puppies’ corpses inside. He knew this was one chore on Christmas
eve day that would haunt him for many days perhaps years to come.
In Honor of Carol Brown
And Contest
Categories:
trickled, introspection, christmas, old, christmas,
Form:
Narrative
Her
simply.
Her
intensely,
my world.
Her
a peach.
Her
juices singing
a melody.
Her
cooling,
to my
burning hot.
Her
trickled
out my
lips,
on my
chin.
Her
smears
my flesh.
Her
lingers.
Her
just
a taste
Her!
04~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne
Categories:
trickled, love,
Form:
Free verse
My beloved Drino,
Take me to the memory
a neverlasting dream
which lived in yester yesterday
long before destiny took its toll
and footprints marked separate paths
Take me back to that December night
where we ran holding hands
to the cottage down the hill
by fields of evergreen
I am there, You are too
Kissing snowflakes from my lips
as melting moistness falls
upon silk wisps of auburn hair
How can I not remember
your palms' gentle rub
brushing raindrops
which trickled ever so slow
across the inner of my thigh
Ahh !I can still smell the scent
of your warm breath upon my neck's nape
~Honey and lemon
I can still hear that hush hushed whisper
beneath the tender of my ear
Still live the feeling,of your fading kiss
upon each flutter of my lash
My beloved Drino
Carry me back to those sheets
which still know the voice
and the colour of your eyes
Let me travel to the cradle
of those arms and perfumed wine
Let me travel to that smile
within the blossom of your heart
Threaded petals on a cheek
where scarlet velvets never sleep
Let my slippery fingers slide
to the soft hairs of your back
as you unbutton my last piece of innocence
As the corners of your mouth fulfill with juices
from the ripeness of pink peaches
As i open up to fire and you enter in flames
My beloved Drino,
take me to that night
where i tickled your wilderness
where you sank in my deep
Take me to the moment
where our sins were so sacred
and lust carried no shame
Not for the
contest..
But tnks
Cyndi
Macmillan
for your
'Spice box'
adult content contest
had been an
inspiration.
Ps..I had to delete
some spices after
i posted it
Hope its still liked
: )
Categories:
trickled, boyfriend, me, me, travel,
Form:
Free verse
It's really quite simple,
watch, I'll show you.
Flip your wrists,
turn them upward,
now bend them back.
grasp...
Slice deep,
bleed your mind,
let it go...
Painful?
It's better that way.
Now watch it trickle,
drop by drop, float down
blue, now red, it flows
a rasp of wind falls,
a gasp of air chokes.
heavy is your breath,
exhale...
it's all stale anyway,
no need to breathe it back in.
Feel the thunder of your heart?
Faster and faster,
it falls like night's approach
until your mind cuts deep
and hangs the sun once again...
Does it matter?
No one will ever see the whites
of your sunken eyes,
they only see the spills of crimson,
your trickled thoughts
scribbled on paper rags
as you die one more time
from within...
Categories:
trickled, death,
Form:
Free verse