Best Twines Poems
The color palette of the world has changed.
Wispy painters brush clouds line a clear calm sky.
The day is dry and cold, powdery snow starts to fall.
Flowers have ceased budding and spilling over in the garden;
yet the passion, fragrant, rosebud cherry and amber
honeysuckle vine, twines round the wooden arbor,
inviting the few scarce bees to come to its nectar.
Forbearance wooden starlings and mourning doves
move on with their singing and coo-OO-oo throughout the day.
Warm breath onto the cold window, a traced note of love.
10/1/2023
Categories:
twines, winter,
Form:
Free verse
Come my beauty, I am the voice of the forest,
Just take my mossy hand and come my dearest;
With love you will be embraced by emerald vines,
Listen to the birds sing, oh what a sweet chorus.
And in ancient towering trees the wild wind whines,
On hanging branches tangled moss falls and twines;
Let us take this path, see the sage unfolding ferns,
Not far, my dear, a creek bubbles like sweet chimes.
Come my darling, be careful of those wild rose thorns,
A colorful bright hummingbird twirls, swirls and turns;
To hear my whisper, that has always been your "choice",
I know you love me, since childhood this love burns.
The forest is within your heart and I am the sweet voice,
And in your dream dear, I called and you came by choice;
You love my green deepness, my peace, and tranquility,
So until it is time to wake, be still and just rejoice.
__________________________
April 30, 2016
Poetry/Rubaiyat/Forest
Copyright Protected, ID 16-784-237-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Poetry (Fill in the Blank)
sponsor, Poet Destroyer
Third Place
Categories:
twines, dream,
Form:
Rubaiyat
*not a tradition haiku because it is subjective it is my judgement you are told to see the vine strangling the maple something a person would do, further you are told my my imagining that the vine is seeking revenge - so this is more Free Verse than haiku
a bittersweet vine
strangles the dormant maple
ribbon of revenge
* haiku - objective, factual with a season, with 2 parts and implied metaphor
a bittersweet vine
twines about the maple tree --
swollen knuckles ache
I am here, I see the vine, I show you the vine, I see my hand at the same time, now you SEE the relationship, you FEEL, I don't tell you what to feel. The change occurs in where my eyes have fallen first up & out and then down to my hands
Categories:
twines, nature,
Form:
Haiku
i dip my pen into the ocean of helpless
fluids searching for hopeful cravings
and my blood has rippled in a thousand torrents of expectations...
but do you know that my lungs has torn,shattered and broken on pieced streets and pierced boulevards?
know that i need need not be merged together for i am a victim,curdled on the back of expectations...
you are the lost garment i search for in the holes of a torn garment, do you know how your thoughts reverberates in the hall of my mind ?
ireti,what is the spirit that dwells in you?
tell me your backbone and its custodian..
you break the rocking of my bone and paralyse the swiftness it curdles and wait..you turn my head down on the tongues of hard rocks...
ireti..i am broken
see me emerse my thoughts in the flowing waters of wisdom our fathers hold
and i hold myself with twines of hope weaved by tender tailors with soft hands behind the hopeless garments of expectations...
i am broken...not beyond repair
for i am a victim curdled on the backs of expectations
Categories:
twines, 2nd grade,
Form:
Free verse
Come my beauty, I am the voice of the forest,
just take my hand and come my dearest;
with love you will be embraced by emerald vines,
listen to the birds sing. Oh what a lovely chorus.
In ancient towering trees the wild wind whines,
on hanging branches tangled moss falls and twines;
let us take this path to see the sage's unfolding turns,
not far, my dear, a creek bubbles like sweet chimes.
Come my precious, take care for the wild rose burns,
a bright hummingbird, twirls, swirls and returns;
to hear my whisper has always been your rechoice,
you have loved me since a child with love that yearns.
The forest is within your heart and I am its voice,
in your dream I call and you come by choice;
you love my green deepness, my peace and tranquility,
so until time to wake be still with your innervoice.
__________________________________
April 30, 2016 (Edit)
Poetry/Rhyme/Sweet Dream
Copyright Protected, ID 16-1077-958-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, End of October, 2018 Standard
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
Categories:
twines, bird, dream, green, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Home is Where
Home is where
your first and lost loves linger
the scent of Cusson’s Imperial Leather
and lavender, like a silken scarf
curls and twines around your head,
her marshmallow touch,
teasing your memory.
Home is where
fresh baked bread and apple pie,
jams and jellies, all cooling
in the afternoon’s mellow light,
greet you coming there
when school is out
and saffron yellow butter melts
on a fresh cut welcome scone
Home is where
dreams are born
waking in the morning sun,
fresh and frisky,
brimming with light and hope,
unfettered by failure,
treachery or disappointment,
ripe and blooming with possibility.
Home is where
memories fragment,
like packing boxes,
broken, confused,
their contents lost
while you search for a thought,
a hook to hang a hat.
Home is where,
past follies, misdemeanours
and careless adventures
echo down the streets and lanes,
tip tap in your footsteps,
flit through the shadows,
in the corners, out of sight,
in your mind’s eye.
Home is where
brooding menace waits,
the bogeymen of childhood terror,
with menacing patience
until childhood play abates,
there, in the shadow under the bed
and behind the wardrobe door,
slightly ajar.
Home is where
the slap of tiny feet
on a kitchen floor,
telling you home
is where you’re happy,
but there’s no notch on your compass
to point you there.
Categories:
twines, growing up, home, memory,
Form:
Free verse
Amidst the fine feetle of veggies in the garden of truth
Stands a monstrous scarecrow.
Of a fungoid parched face and a half baked gaze.
Of shrunken smoked sockets and drunken knocked eyeballs.
Bulged cheekbones force the halloween smile
While the amateurish wrought neck holds the somewhat ogrish skull.
A thin narrowing stream of a sparrow's yellowing cream
Tinges it's elvan nose to the apex.
Pepper red vitriol burns in the dunes of the coarse skin
And four daggerlike claws clinch at the gliding inches of the sisal woven arms.
Crickets and roaches cohabit in the meshes of the morbid hobbit charvet shirt.
The eroded black ribbons travelling along the sleets of the pirate jacket
Compliment the dotted woolen twines of hair flowing down the bald scalp
Then...
Beyond the spread of the evenly scaped acres of the khaki greens
Lives a dearth among apes
That's strips down their velvet raiment of fur
And pulls to skin their horrid skeleton.
Dry bones litter the vale and life faces the wink of hell.
Yet the flora of truth remains unturned, untouched, unchanged
A death from a dearth seems painless
Than the drilling wreath of the scarecrow's claws to the turbine of breath
Sandwiched in the succulent greens of the garden of truth
Stands a scarecrow ladened with less ruth, wrath full
A fabricated beast called STEREOTYPE
Categories:
twines, introspection, life, perspective, prejudice,
Form:
Free verse
Little crystals fallen angel tears smooching ground;
Instills cooling touch among grasses, buds and trees;
Facets rolling ambiguity ~ mystery;
Twirls then twines closely rush on branches bounds;
Inches white eerie cloud rhymes hang rest at key;
Nailing anyone to see natural history;
Garden fog silence~ conceals even tricks;
Tinge golden yellow linear streaks thread through
Hovering to break fogs' gloomy cold mood
Enchantment subsides, enlightening arise!
Fog succumbs ~ gradually disappears from view
Orchards' quiet green scenery renewed
Greets my cheeks breezy soft so prize...
(c)Olive Eloisa
6:29pm
July 06,2014
CONTEST NAME: 1 in 4 CHOOSE YOUR ACROSTIC TITLE
SPONSOR: ANDREA DIETRICH
8th place, to God be the glory..:)
Categories:
twines, feelings, imagery, nature,
Form:
Acrostic
Ah, luminous white she blooms a deceptive ghost
lover of dark arts ripe in charisma and night
moon seducer logic diffuser defense reducer
user of dreams abuser of romance
tempter-serpent twines and vines
a tendril's slither noiseless
vanilla viper— she’s a fever teaser
damn well make you a heartbreak believer
celestial and terrestrial she’s a territorial force
spider-vein-lightning crackles across neuronal nebulae
behind your glister eyes firework-fantasies flicker
desire— a brush fire— engulfs your cerebral star fields
razing you to burn red marrow to ash...
oh you long— you long to be the phoenix on her pyre
writhing and rising again and again
you yearn to pluck her play her possess her
place her in a solitary bud vase
share your lust of ardor with hungry admiration
resist the thirst of your hands to touch
resist the airy lariat of her buttercream-spice
resist the thirst of your taste buds to baste in her taste
as honey-whines drip from her summer-wine lips
poised in parted pout to poison you
physical and ethereal she wears an imperial crown
she steals your stars and flaunts them in her eyes
dare her when she unfurls— a swan against black satin
she’ll wrestle your heart from your chest
burst it with pin-prick-pupils of scorn
save it in her cat’s paw purse for her verse—
before she mousetraps your bleats and mercy pleas
within the mantrap of her parasol pleats
leaving you alone to skin your soul
to mend the hole where your old self ends
and your new self melts into moans you now own
Categories:
twines, angst, beauty, dark, desire,
Form:
Free verse
Come my sweet to silken thread,
finest twines I spin for thee.
Come to soft eternal bed,
yield unto my beck’ning plea.
Finest twines I spin for thee,
comfort grant in final hour.
Yield unto my beck’ning plea,
hunger doth my soul devour.
Comfort grant in final hour,
clothe thee in my flossy shroud.
Hunger doth my soul devour,
quick I’ll be, if I’m allowed.
Clothe thee in my flossy shroud,
tremble not beloved prey.
Quick I’ll be, if I’m allowed,
Why, my lust, must thou delay?
Tremble not beloved prey,
now I take what’s fairly mine.
Why, my lust, must thou delay?
Quiet love, without repine.
Now I take what’s fairly mine,
this is my eternal bed.
Quiet love, without repine,
spin again my silken thread.
~~~~~~
(for the Pantoum contest)
* I took some liberty with the form- in the last stanza I modified the 2nd and 4th lines from
the original ones in the first stanza- just gotta be me... *
Categories:
twines, nature
Form:
Pantoum
floating like a stone
icy fingers tickle your soul
cold twines like a hug
Categories:
twines, adventure, allusion, surreal, water,
Form:
Haiku
The strings of twine are slowly breaking as he falls farther from the family tree. I stand still in the midst of a circle like the center of a clock. People are quickly passing me by as the hands of time change and his new life is revealed. My heart stops beating as the lifeless flowers planted under a shaded tree begin to wilt. I have to let the twines unwind similar to his new life.
He comes to a bend and waves goodbye. I cover my tears with the invisible umbrella across my face. As I return home, now still after the earth trembled, I sit at the table staring at the chair he once occupied.
© Holly P. Moore 10/11/14
Categories:
twines, analogy, change,
Form:
Imagism
I dreamed that I was tangled up in vines
too numerous to count (such slender twines).
They’d somehow crept upon me in the night.
It felt so real, this strangely “twisted” plight!
I tried to move, but I could not break loose.
My face and limbs were wreathed, each in a noose.
Fresh fear set in. I writhed and writhed about,
then realized I’d have to wait it out.
In time, the vines were clearer to my eyes.
Their peril was a pleasure in disguise,
And instantly, I knew just what to do!
I turned into a mouse so I might chew. . .
My nightmare had become a child’s fond wish. . .
I set forth nibbling cherry strands of licorice!
For Frank Herrera's "Dream" poetry contest
Categories:
twines, fantasy,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
Stuck on an island of no hope
You're stuck on an island, what are your choices
Hopefully the seeds in your head are good voices
First look towards the rising sun for direction
That was easy. Now look for shelter and protection
Now think ... if mosquito a breeding near water
You best look for an area that's dry my little squatter
So look for a cave, or an area out of the wind
Keeping in mind that those palms are godsends
And look towards the fauna for twines, roots and leaves
To make bedding, clothing or anything else make believe
To my little squatter this won't be easy, I'm not going to lie
You might have to suck it up-on worms, parasites and fungi
That is if you want to survive and see another day of hell
To my dear squatter ... is anything I'm saying ringing a bell
The point is you need to use your ingenuity and know how
It's not that hard to use a rock to a stick to a bow an arrow
It's not that hard to use a rock to a stick to make a fire
And who knows you might catch a fish or roast a sire
Personally I would also leave a note to kin
Scribbling on wall to give them closure that you were a has been
See you need to be thinking. Don't let the elements get to you
As life's destiny screams and wanes in brew
My last bullet in the chamber would be to burn the island down
So it sends a signal that it's hey me come rescue me, I'm still around
Oh I'm so smart. Yeah right.
Above all keep your chin up, speak to the Gods or your mama
Like mama thank you for the voodoo doll spike and all this drama
Okay that was a joke, the point is you need to keep your spirits up
As you drink out of your last supper's cup
Okay that was a joke, too, my little pup
Enough of the jokes. Words to the wise, though, keep out of the sun
And have fun.
connie pachecho
1/13/17
Categories:
twines, absence, destiny, environment, inspiration,
Form:
Rhyme
Cute little kitties - balls of fur -
Love to play 'roll' with twines of wool,
They look at me and gently purr,
I chide them for being playful;
Licking themselves, they laze around,
Cute little kitties - balls of fur -
Moving, they hardly make a sound,
Twiddling, fiddling with their whiskers;
Lifting their paws, they softly stir,
Following me, mewing for fish,
Cute little kitties - balls of fur -
Sit in their corner with their dish;
Kittens - brown, white, black, gold and fair,
Come, cuddle him or play with her,
They lie curled up under the chair,
Cute little kitties - balls of fur.
01:19:17
Categories:
twines, beautiful, cat, pets, ,
Form:
Quatern