Best Veering Poems
An unhurried sun slides across the horizon
Preparing for slumber behind distant waves
And daylight’s last seagull rides thermals in search
Of a late night fish supper - the herring he craves
A paint shop explosion enlivens the skies
As the sun doffs its cap to the tail end of day
That silhouette seagull, against crimson, flys
Before finally veering and heading away
As one with the beach and the shoreline beyond
I watch vibrant heavens succumb
To a darkness profound although I stick around
And I wait for tomorrow to come
The night has its chills but no hectic-life ills
As I feed my small campfire with sticks
One deck chair, one fire is all I desire…
And a thermos for my caffeine fix
There’s no moon, no stars and there’s no beachfront bars
The surf is my soundtrack tonight
I’ve seen moons and stars work with Venus and Mars
To set all above me alight
But tonight is unpainted and I get acquainted
With shadows that flicker and prance
As I recline there, amused, I’m aware
That the fire makes my own shadow dance
I don’t truly doze and a distant bell knows
That I count off its chimes in the night
And as the world sleeps, somewhere near, a bird cheeps
And I know that it soon will be light
I’ll witness the day and then scurry away
Through the hustle and bustle, to bed
Inspired, I’m rewired, and yet, rather tired
With my first chapter clear in my head
My thermos delivers one last warming cup
As a new dawn blue-rinses the grey
A seagull, perhaps who went last night unfed
Circles early for breakfast today
When it left the Arctic it was as a wild angry wind
that stormed its way across the ice bound Arctic ocean.
Blowing the snow clad icebergs and whipping up the ocean.
As it crossed Alaska and into Canada it had gentled
now it played games with leaves and softly kissed flowers.
Gaily it soared over the Rockies and tugged goats beards
causing them to shake their heads and stamp their feet.
In Playful mood it swept on hugging the coast awhile
then veering inland, it travels the plains and grows in strength
turning into a raging tornado causing havoc as it passes.
Moving ever southward it basks in now warm sunshine
and skips over the gulf of Mexico filling yachts sails.
Deep down in South America it turns into a wild fury that
uproots trees snapping them in half like matchsticks,
Then onward once more dancing past the Falkland islands.
Its destiny is now in sight and with triumphant roar
it rushes on over the Antarctic ocean and slides up
the icy barrier then screams its way across the tundra
yet slowly it loses its power and as it reaches the incline
this moody wind fades away until with final breath it dies.
The Haunted House
Driving with my date at midnight, looking at the August moonlight,
lonely road, no one in eyesight, searching for a place to park.
Off the road a mansion ‘pearing, in the woods, back in a clearing,
all alone this mansion fearing, stands deserted in the dark…
the mansion stands there in the dark.
Vacant now for many ages, rotting as her time turns pages,
legend of her haunting rages, haunting ghosts that oversee.
Eerie winds around are blowing, in the window soft light glowing,
curiosity is growing, soft light beckons us to see…
the soft light calls for us to see.
Feel like we are strangers poaching, on this haunted house encroaching,
front porch creaks as we’re approaching, and the front door open wide.
Through the door now we are heading, on the inside odor shedding,
musty air with dust is spreading, leaving us red blurry eyed…
the dust makes us red blurry eyed.
In our ears there is a droning, down the hall we hear a moaning,
sounding like an old man groaning, leaving us to wonder why.
Down the hallway we go searching, knowing not what evil lurching,
through the door we see there perching, skeleton from days gone by…
bones sitting there from days gone by.
On the floor there is blood pooling, ‘neath the ashen bones so grueling,
such an eerie sight befooling, tell my date to turn and run.
Chasing close behind I follow, for this fear I cannot swallow,
felling like my life is hollow, thinking that my time is done…
I’m feeling like my days are done.
Wake up in a forest clearing, in the sky, sunlight appearing,
from the night my mind is veering, how I got here I don’t know.
Leaving now my gut is churning, don’t think I will be returning,
evil place my mind discerning, wrought with spirits from below…
the evil spirits from below…..
this haunted house has got to go.
August 18, 2018
Make no haste,
your work is restless.
Aeon give me pause--
no more ticking
gears grinding
ever towards the
lonely end.
Live the now.
Even Death took
a holiday,
veering briefly from an
eternity of reaping
solitude.
Take your time
on earth and
mingle--
overindulge in
reverie.
Rest assured,
oblivion can
wait.
Rio de Janeiro, a city by the shore:
Home to Ipanema, Carnival and dance folklore.
As a child, of you I read, from books that showed your Christ.
Arms outstretched, He guards your days and lights your sky by night.
And now I’ve stood beneath His feet and breathed the air you breathe.
I’ve viewed the famous Sugar Loaf, seen monkeys play in trees,
visited your fruit stands and drunk from a coconut shell.
I’ve searched for creatures hewn in stone that midnight vendors sell,
and on your soft and clinging sand, I thrust my toes deep in
and glistened under winter sun, brown sugar on my skin.
Along Copacabana, I jumped waves, enjoyed a beach
which, when they cross an avenue, all visitors can reach.
On weekends and on holidays, your several sea fronts teem
with hundreds, no with multitudes, of people who all seem
content to chat beneath umbrellas, lounging in the sun,
while on a road closed to all traffic, others like to run.
And on that winding promenade are folks, most clad in shorts,
thong-bikinied women, sundry shapes and shades all sorts!
Kids whiz by on roller blades; old or young may ride a bike.
Many simply merrily stroll, though dressed as for a hike.
And in your city’s whole, the countless cars and bodies stream;
pedestrians and door-less shops, props in your waking dream.
with taxis veering left and right and people catching buses;
Cacophony of life your subways and your streets encompass.
Children on their mother’s hands; boys in soccer shirts.
Men sip beers at sidewalk bars; girls scurry in their tight skirts.
Portuguese artisans laid the paths your people walk.
What tales immersed in history if cobblestones could talk!
More than a metropolis, you are yourself, unique!
And I have had the pleasure to have sampled your mystique.
For Bic Gi-Sa's Landscape and Towns Contest
The oncoming truck swerved into my lane
And there was not enough time for veering
But I was suddenly relieved from the pain
By a golden horse with hind legs rearing
We galloped straight down the road for apace
And then turned onto a large green expanse
I hung on tightly, not used to a race
Though I was willing to give it a chance
My dull senses were roused on the fresh field
And my pale skin warmed from the sun outside
I slowly loosened my grip and revealed
That I could never fall off if I tried
I shouted out with a vivacious voice
Unlike the one that was used to hiding
With newfound feelings that made me rejoice
Due to the golden horse I was riding
In an instant we reached the tall mountains
That I’d only seen in big picture books
The kind with dreamlike waterfall fountains
That we climbed up without a second look
There were no hurdles too large in our way
Or tough boulders too slippery or coarse
That could in the slightest ever delay
Or stop the progress of my golden horse
We moved as swift as if running downhill
Giving me motive to close my own eyes
But once at the top got an awful chill
When the brave stallion leaped into the skies
This time I shouted out “Why in god’s name
Must I be saddled on this golden horse!?”
For a deed like this is truly insane
Until knowing my death, fulfilled its course
David Fisher-posted on 2/10/2015-For Structured Forms-Iambic Verse Contest
She walks alone through the forest in white;
Under thick boughs she lets out her lament—
Holding her head and wailing in the night.
The wind is blowing so fiercely tonight—
Going places few others ever went,
She walks alone through the forest in white.
The moon in the sky shines so very bright,
And her entire journey has been spent
Holding her head and wailing in the night.
She sees the trees now veering to the right—
The path up ahead appears slightly bent;
She walks alone through the forest in white.
The night is dark, with no one else in sight—
To deliver a message, she’s been sent
Holding her head and wailing in the night.
She sees the house, and steps up near the light,
With her bare feet touching the cold cement.
She walks alone through the forest in white,
Holding her head and wailing in the night.
© 2014
Filling minds with symphony of truth
Opening them with catalytic mystery of light
Living waters flowing like angels’ robes
Lifting inspirations into the depths of brilliance
Omitting your hopeful eyes to the skies
Without blemish and aching to purify
You are so talented and true
Outstanding words that cringe in harmonies
Under and over and back to the earth
Revealing an answer that was once nothing
Drenched and battered in sweets for a recipe
Rocking and popping in slivered ecstasy
Enveloping us all in the highest reverie
Aiming at the heavens where you ought to be
My heart pours out to all of you
Someone believes in you—I do
And though the dark is soon to come
Never fear, for light will always fold it over
Dimming away into resonate and pure master-peace
No, you are free in this glistened life
Everlasting like the holy beings in perfect-pitched song
Vindicating your cause and all others to follow
Emptied only to be filled yet again
Ransomed in unremitting constancy
Give into the beauty of recycled rhapsody
Interlaced with supportive strands of genius
Veiled in humility and never lacking agility
Enshrouded with the benevolent shine of generations
Understand that you will succeed in succulent growth
People will only fail you if you give them reason to
You are an incredible addition to a lively creation
Onward the music will lead you on
Universally swirling and curling with mastered energy
Veering out and fluttering in perfect sight and sound
Eventually reaching out to the remaining shadows
Get up and look at the world around you
Obvious beauty surrounds every shady corner
Take what you may and create your renovating legacy
The symphony is playing for you
Helping you along the smooth sands of life
Intertwined in fiery drive and sifting scents
Surrounded by the resonance—and a stranger’s global confidence
-inspired by the one and only Anthony Snape-
Saint of Lust
Release these chains of tortured deeds
Along a sculpted veering hedge
Upon this path where darkness feeds
Of jagged cliff so near the edge
For one false move, beware ahead
Beneath the agony now shown
Within these eyes and lips of red
Sit heartless wishes winged and thrown
So find from me a hand so born
You maiden fair this summered breeze
To greet thy heart within this storm
Unshackle those in motioned ease
To lie with me of feathered dreams
And take of this, my soul can bare
Your beauty comes of all it seems
In flesh that I do long to share
For of thy skin my mouth does long
Aroused in pleasured flitting feast
Rose petal soft, magnolia strong
To sooth the yearnings of this beast
O’er endless days to hold you near
Pure love doth conquer moistened loins
Melodic whispers call thy ear
Eternally we shall be joined
For I am called the Saint of Lust
Come taste the flavor’s scented mist
Young soul now lost, misguided trust
As I partake your orphaned kiss
As evening whets this appetite
And shadows stand beyond the crest
My kingdom beckons of thy sight
O’ crowning jewel to quell my quest
I look to the sky and ask,
Can he help find my way?
I've been wondering through this darkness
And still haven't found the light of day.
Struggle after struggle
I'm trying to find my way.
Time after time
I'm clinging to that little bit of faith.
Physically, spiritually, and emotionally drained
Venturing through this storm
But I can stand the rain.
No angels on my shoulders,
It's just demons now.
Fighting for first,
Never know which one is leaking out.
I try to stay positive,
Be optimistic about things.
Then turn to a pessimist,
That's a depressing change.
My mind goes insane,
I can't stay in one lane.
Veering off-road,
So my paths are never the same.
Many things I've seen,
Every memory is a movie scene.
Many are great, but has a fuzzy screen,
Bad shows up clear as day, it will make you scream.
Nightmares keep taking my breath away,
I can feel it in my chest.
Dying multiple times,
But wake up with cold sweats.
I lay here and look up,
I ask why me?
Why put me through the fire,
But have me cold as an ice rink?
Many things inside that I want to question,
Hard to pour out,
I have introverted aggression.
They say send your prayers to god,
Sometimes I feel like I have to leave him a message.
I ask again,
can he help find my way?
I'm fighting for my dreams,
I'm going through wars to be king some day.
Even though this road I'm taking,
May not get me there right away.
I still cling to that little of hope,
That I won't let my faith die away.
Form:
DRAWN TO UNKNOWN SPACES
Could there be sight more alluring
Than the bending of a lane
Or a brow of hill’s contouring
Could there be sight more alluring
Tied attention thus unmooring
Like a lyrical refrain
Could there be sight more alluring
Than the bending of a lane
As the Sun lights distant clearing
I am drawn to unknown spaces
t’ward the light by pathways veering
As the Sun lights distant clearing
Always changing ever nearing
Viewpoints new or well loved places
As the Sun lights distant clearing
I am drawn to unknown spaces
I use a walker to get around
A device I need in order
To maintain my balance
So I walk slowly.
People rush by
Not seeing me
Making me feel that I am in their way
Some are impatient
I feel their warm breath on my neck
As I try to pass through the subway turnstile
On my way to work
Just like everyone else.
A few say their sorry
Over time I’ve learned
That people say things they don’t mean.
I tire easily
Occasionally stopping to catch my breathe
When that happens
Gestures are all I have
Since my hands are busy
Sometimes my face becomes like putty
Primed to be explicit in nature
Grimaces
Winks
Smiles
A nod
Laughter
Mouthing the words thank you for a door held open.
If forced,
By a unexpected blocked exit
Or a person suddenly veering in front of me
I do something
That crosses the line
Melodramatic
Emotional
Or angry
I do this because it’s the only thing I can do.
A wonderous day, we're
Busy little bees buzzing,
Circling round
Dandelions, daisies, and
Early meadow rue, wild-
Flowers with open arms.
Gems, open blossoms,
Harmony of colors.
Incredible, arousing
Juices of fragrance
Keeping us busy
Lugging it all back to
Mommy in the beehive.
Nice that the wildflowers are an
Open diner,
Pollen for the asking.
Quick and easy, we can sit and
Rest on their open blooms and here
Summer right
Through
Until early autumn.
Veering in an out
Wings and body's
Xenogamy of
Yellow pollen traveling along a
Zigzagging path
6/3/2022
'Bee Creative' Contest Info
Sponsor Matt Caliri
xenogamy
[z?'näg?me]
NOUN
botany
fertilization of a flower by pollen from a flower on a genetically different plant. Compare with geitonogamy.
“You won’t be satisfied’
-That was the voice i heard
and i turned the pages of the manuscript,
one by one;
and it featured the pearls impreganted to them
turning gold
dissecting the conglomeration of foresaken words
foxed by (un)bound faith,
berarted by depraved independence…..
i was apt to imagine,
the emblem of affable federalism
interfering the transmission from the scriptures,
The (--(SCRIPT)--)
Don’t shower any light on me
For i am afraid,
If i can make any pretence at eating;
You stony eyes; don’t gaze at me
i won’t be moved by your stagnant glare.
Six days ago,
it had rained heavily
-A Divine Rain.
And now,
Though the clouds of darkness
encompass the darkness,
there may not be a rain today
and sweat may again adhere to my body
pleading for its liberation from self.
Even with the door left ajar,
i will not enter the garden
experiencing severe drought
As i know for sure,
there are only a few white chessmen left
on the chess-board
spread across the cryptic sky.
The reverberations of enchanted hymns
dissolve in my ears,
plugging my veering mind,
drawing the thin atmosphere into nullity.
But…
For how long will I lie this frigid bed
obsessed with wounds,
resisting the warmth,
in the air of sustained captivity!?
I should arise now….
I must arise now
with my black apparels on
to see the Reverend old man guarding the pious fire
And I’ll make sure
my maid doesn’t wipe out
the blood-stains clung to the floor
For,
I’ve to come again to smoothen the wrinkled bed
and to depart,
forever….
Cozy comfort he finds residing in his narrow world
Never veering from neighborhood he well knows,
Keeping to his familiar corners of adamant beliefs
Roaming within limits of truth he chooses to see.
His paths have been paved for his own two feet,
Restless he feels when strangers trespass his street
For long ago he decided who fits his myopic sight
Guarded by perimeters of his sacred boundaries.
He won't attempt to understand differing insights,
Never having been part of a scholarly discussion;
For he can't comprehend things new and unknown,
Afraid that new knowledge may pollute his mind.
When a tourist pays a beggar on a main city-street
He rushes to take a picture of beggar's empty mug,
Directing him to smile broadly on hungry stomach
So he can exhibit to his world, proof of lazy people.
Saddened he feels seeing a child cling to mother’s gut
As she lays dead amid ruins of a hapless war-zone.
He looks away mourning, seeing such dreadful scenes
But that would be the extent of his generous streak.
March 11, 2018
Placed first in contest 540 by Brian Strand