Best Vibrated Poems
Most people were born with love and concern
~ the real world is more like a nightmare ~
Listening To My Monday Blues
~
we need to turn adversity into opportunity
CHANGE
~ before the sun goes down ~
~ * * * * * * ~
Some have tattoos, others have scars
Everyone has the memories
Five years after several coordinated
terrorist acts shaken Norway on 22 July 2011
The bereaved and survivors still have horrific memories
and miss their loved ones who lost their lives
... One human
...
... The air vibrated
25.07.2016
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
"All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
And I intend to end up there." Rumi
In search of my beloved,
my supernova soul was born,
floating among gardens of glistening galaxies,
adoring heavenly hues of sapphire,
amethyst and emerald constellations,
where efflorescence butterflies,
fluttered among elysian scents.
Yet I still yearned for her forbidden fragrance.
Cultivating the art of transcendental romance,
euphoric emotions wrote an amaranthine aubade,
hoping the universe would hear my call,
as my love is a timeless lunar lullaby,
lingering like a flute echoing moonstone melodies,
where passion travels with each
nocturnal note composing a cosmic chorus,
ordained from an orchestra of galactic halos.
At twilight, in a playground of primrose promises,
millions of pulsar pearls appeared.
Silent and still, sentimental stars shimmering,
listening to the desires of my heart,
but at dawn they were always forgotten.
In my hallucination of loneliness,
fatigued from evanescent entities,
I awaited to hear her halcyon harmony,
until echoes vibrated from the moon,
so I became a slave to moonlight -
but it too, abandoned me at daylight.
Must I forever be the victim of selfish sunrise?
Upon the elegance of an ethereal eternal eclipse.
the last star wept sacred stardust on autumn leaves,
which glowed as they withered from scarlet to saffron.
In Nebula's November cull of death,
I fell like a comet in a meteor shower,
betrayed, falling into a quasar black hole -
lost forever.
Without interstellar lyrics,
I no longer illuminate,
maybe some light is too bright.
But, I know there is a rustic rose,
blossoming upon vintage shores,
so, every night I look up to the sky,
wondering where you are?
In these realms, within which I roam,
I watch each star suffocate
from the suppression of affection.
Seems no spectral spirit is selfless enough
to ignite this symphony of silence.
Maybe I was born a cosmic Casanova.
Maybe I'm just an intergalactic Romeo.
The old man was no longer a hunter,
But he would not stoop to women’s chores.
A storm was brewing as he sought
Shelter in a round cave.
Soon he had a fire going but he preferred
To stay near the entrance and listen.
He did not know yet what music was
But he could tell the difference
Between each sound that echoed outside.
The wind was strong that began like a rigadoon
But reached its forte in tone and pitch,
A crescendo that reached its apex as it climbed the hills.
There it hit stones and sent them down crashing
Like the sound of synchronized drums.
Slowly the wind lost its force and vibrated into a cadence,
Leading to an herbaceous plain as it wandered off
Like a soft funeral march.
The old man heard all and knew what was to come.
Promptly a bird began to sing to the now calm night,
A mellifluous sonata and then subliminal silence.
A breeze whipped up, a silky serenade that like an arpeggio
It grew ductile but strong as it flew amongst the trees,
Leaves replying with a trill till the moon came up,
Shadows dancing on the now calm groove.
All was at peace.
The old man picked up his reed. Someday he will learn
And emulate the sounds around into a coherent aria.
18 December 2020
Once his brown alpargata shoes trod countless miles,
imagination burst from his vivid, traveler's eyes...
He traversed valleys leading to azure mountains,
and heard a chant sung with vivacious tones.
Like the invaders of the past that built sturdy castles
on rugged hills, he intruded in those ghostly places...
expecting swift lancers with fierce glances ready to attack him,
or take him prisoner and toss him in a dungeon completely dim.
But with his slick tongue, he would kindly ask for a fair trail
and be scolded by the drunken King with the fattest tummy
to explain with a few words his intrusion in that well-guarded territory;
and looking so young and innocent, his plan for deception wouldn't fail!
" Oh, mighty Frederick II...I come in peace and as a conquered native,
I would bow in admiration to be of service to your kingdom,
which extends from Naples to Sicily, your mercy is imperative...
may your soldiers unlock these heavy chains that make me lame!"
The Norman King with the bluest eyes ordered the knights
to free him and waited for words to flow from his mouth with dry lips, " My great
King, I have grown grapes that are so juicy to eat with bread and they make
the most delicious wine to bring merriment to your festive nights!"
" Where's this region you mention with such wonder and delirium?"
With red-inflamed pupils, King Frederick II asked him. And he traveler's deep voice
vibrated with loud excitement , " Into the valley of Baianum!"
" Let me out of this castle and I will show the purple grapes of a farmer's choice!"
" Let him loose!" ordered the tall, fair king. " Give him the fastest horse,
and let him bring me proof of his finding!" The soldiers obeyed with reluctance,
but little trust they showed in him: they assumed he was another well-paid jester,
who performed his comedy well...they knew the cleverness of that young traveler!
Warmth, surrounded me…always
My lips, my eyes, closed…
Mesmerized by the darkness that brought me consolation
I remember there were colors under those lids,
Green, spurts of purple…and sporadic yellows and reds
They danced and flashed
Whenever your voice rumbled and vibrated my abode
I remember the earthquakes of laughter
That pushed me against the soft, supported side…
I merely bounced back to the middle again
My legs, bending, and then kicking off against it
My body twirling in the lavish liquid
Natural twists and turns that were later underappreciated
Twists and turns that were who I was
I didn’t realize they would always shape who I am
Deep voice—music—surrounded me always
My ears opened to the muffled marvel
Curious of the outside world that birthed the mysteries of who I am
I recall frustration, kicking against your soft insides….
Colors of black, gray tints, and calming browns…
That left me gurgling for more of those outside sounds
Because that first day I heard the lightning yells
The hot swells of your insides boiled
My body twirled and twirled as I heard you wail
Crying…sobbing…
My heart beat faster—wanting more to leave this vessel
Wanting to be a separate thing
Wanting all to hear me scream
To feel the cold, rubbery hands of a stranger
Lift me—and to your breast—gift me
It was always the warmth of the liquid
And the comfort of our bond
That always remained
Bonds and beliefs never dry
Blood is blood
Color is color
It is living to be separate that makes us gods
I am dipped in burnt sage
smudged with black skin
Choctaw infused in my DNA
Creole seasoning the roux
in my bloodline
I slow simmer
for I am daughter of
strong warrior
Too powerful to
give up
cause surrender is
an unfamiliar name
to my lineage
My hair kinks just right
Bones and muscles designed
to balance the
world on my back
I can birth a generation
and feed it plentiful
from the milk and honey
that flows from my breast
I smile warm sunshine
my ancestors bathed in
Old ***** spirituals
vibrated from their vocal cords
as blood from fingertips
stained massa's cotton
I walk upright
with square shoulders
head held high to God
I've time traveled through
lifetimes before me
My black is not for
barter and trade
My woman is not to
be negotiated
You can't experience
my being without
being in my experience
You take the sweet meat
and leave the rotten
Not knowing I turn rotten
into witches brew
that strengthens
my inheritance
the parts of me you
wish pain for
I'm not worried about
you robbing me of
my ethnicity
You can desire to
be like this woman
but you could never be
woman enough as me
My black be God given
The elements of my woman
be everlasting
You thief in night real well
but what you know about
me and my kind
You can never represent
the meaning of Full lips
and wide hips
made for bearing
breathing life when all
your lips and hips are good for
Is delivering white lies
3/8/2020
By morning, I could feel the first hints of warm air,
Relieved I took my bath and dressed for work.
There was no music in the block of flats,
But in my head rumbled a hundred old time songs
That tantalized me into a stupor of great expectancy.
Down stairs, near the elevator, was an old woman.
I was shocked to see her on a wheelchair, eyes vacant.
The landlord smiled at me and told me not to worry.
Seems Angelique was to be taken to some rest home.
Her mother just wanted to see that the upstairs
Apartment was in perfect state for the living.
Disappointed at the name I left for work later for my groceries.
Back home I concocted some pasta and cooked the sauce,
Opened my favourite bottle of red wine to drown my sorrows.
Silence reigned supreme and I felt rather annoyed.
So I betook myself to sleep hoping at least to dream.
The phone rang and a dulcet voice asked for me.
She had arrived late and had got nothing prepared for her meal.
Could I take something good for her to eat?
So I put on my track suit and with little or no enthusiasm
Went upstairs with some pasta left over and some wine.
That would be enough I thought, but the mother
Was old enough and should have known better.
Mother? The girl that opened the door was young enough.
A nymph that beckoned me in, in the warm atmosphere,
Balsamic perfume that inundated the cosy apartment,
Low magic music swirled and vibrated everywhere.
My name is Angel she tenderly smiled, shall we dance?
I felt the warmth of her; felt her arms and the dance began.
It did not take long to become lost in her euphoric bliss.
And our lips met, again and again as our hearts beat as one……….
You want to know the end?
We lived happily ever after…….
As all fairy tales should…..
I saw Mary in Peru
as pastel chalks skimmed over
a gray concrete sidewalk, felting the surface,
baby blues and pinks vibrated with naiveté.
The artist knelt
each stroke given in homage
to the Mother of all.
I see Mary.
The Quechua see
Pachamama, earth-time mother,
the oval shape of her beatific head
tilts as if she’s watching—
when as the dragoness she rises,
she shakes
the ground.
A son of Lima dressed the dreary gray day
with earth stone. Chalk forms Her breasts.
He prays. We are all children
at the feet of the Mother;
the celestial sun and moon were
birthed
from her loins.
I saw Mary as he drew with diligence.
I saw my mother and myself,
let all who birth be
praised.
First Published in About Place Journal Vol III Issue II
The Curach (currach) is a traditional Irish boat made from animal skins / hides (now canvass). The hides vibrate when a whale sings.
Whale Song
How gentle the waves lapped the boat almost bobbing me to sleep,
My liquid turquoise mattress with its secrets buried cold and deep.
A curious dolphin glided past, its snout smiled in its personal joke,
As it observed my ungainly presence, (this awkward land folk).
My man made curach of pitch, wood and canvass stretched taut.
As she masters the sea with courage to return the fish she caught.
Now as I lolled towards twilight a strange sensation vibrated the boat,
It hummed an angels tune that rippled the canvass, with a glorious note.
And there in the distance, a great humpback whale trumpeted the clear air
As I sat in heaven blessed company with nature, in the middle of nowhere.
The whale approached my flimsy craft with a natural grace that was serene
One of the most beautiful creatures that shares this wonderful marine.
And so the whale passed by with the gentlest disruption of space,
And I think it was amused when he saw the look on my face.
I sat there drained yet elated at this wonder I had shared
No camera or witness to observe the scene or to have cared
But I was there and my soul was touched like a child once again
To witness such beauty often befouled by the actions of men.
Now as I lolled towards twilight a strange sensation vibrated the boat,
It hummed an angels tune that rippled the canvass, with a glorious note.
The Band Concert
It was not a typical musical concert on an indoor stage,
but a marching band concert—and a very special one to me.
I sat with family on bleachers that sunny day as
the glorious band’s thunderous sounds filled my ears,
and my chest vibrated wildly with the powerful music
from brass, woodwinds, percussion, and resounding drums.
As my heart beat in sync with the strong pounding rhythm,
such deep patriotic emotion fully engulfed me, and I
could feel my heart fill up with pride as it beat with
the thrill of that music and with the vision of those great
young men and women in huge formations, marching
on their way to receive diplomas and off to serve our country.
Then I saw him, our dear son, marching within that "Long Gray Line",
stepping in unison with fellow classmates to that awesome music.
The wondrous relentless rhythm from those drums and horns,
together with the artistic and intricate merging formations,
engulfed my whole being as tears filled my eyes with pride and joy—
on that special day—at that one-time special event—in May 1981...
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: Any Poem Written in 2015
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 07/16/2016
~Honorable Mention~
Contest: The Concert
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Judged: 06/10/2015
The still night seemed to amplify each sound
until each soft noise vibrated loudly.
The torrid air mystic as it hovers bound
above the lake and leaping perch gleam ghostly.
A night of light mist that distorts shapes
tricking the eye as I pass on my way.
Daggling leaves and branches like grapes
brush my skin leaving a smell of hay.
Now it darkens, clouds cover the moon
the wind whips up sending all flurrying.
In this wild tempest I find a boon
that is filled brim full of loving.
The terrors of the night fade
blinded by the blazing rays,
old fears, to them bye I bade
time to welcome back love filled days.
I walked past my pantry
Late one Friday night
To the sounds of what appeared to be
The goings on of a party inside
I grabbed a hold the latches
Swung wide open the door
With absolutely no earthly idea
Of what was soon in store
Colorful lights were flashing
Somewhere in the back
I moved aside the ketchup and mayo
To see where it was at
I took out the pickles and saltine's
So I could better see
What all the commotion was inside
Of my food pantry
That's when I saw the flashing lights
Inside the jar of Nutella
I picked it up right away
Me being a some what curious fella
As I held it at eye level
It vibrated in my hands
In what felt like a driving rhythm
From a 70's Disco band
Can't say I wasn't nervous
As I loosened up the lid
No telling what was going on inside
What dangers lay ahead
With both hands slightly shaking
I removed the rounded top
There was a party in the making
And it was going on non stop
The Nutella had it's boogie on
Or if you prefer, it's groove
Whatever you wish to call it
A party was the mood
There was a strobe light and confetti
Even a tiny Disco ball
As I gazed over the edge of the jar
I saw banners wall to wall
I guess you could say Nutella
Is quite the party treat
That may cost you at the grocery store
But once home the cover charge is free
The singer sang from beyond the grave,*
Or in his grave, to be true.
His voice reached up to the architrave
And vibrated in every pew.
The vicar called on the choir to sing
As loud as loud they could.
But the voice had an even louder ring
Sending quivers down the rood.
Oh Lord, they sang, oh mighty God,
Gloria in excelsis deo.
But the singer sang of life’s hard rod
And of Hell's undying blow.
The women looked up the pillars tall,
While big-eyed children cried.
The singer had them in his thrall,
But was not to be descried.
The vicar read his sermon out,
As if proclaiming from the mount.
The singer responded with a voice so stout,
He sang of fear’s rich fount.
The congregation lost relation
To the good man’s godly word.
They stood in helpless trepidation,
Their souls so far disturbed.
The church’s doors swung open wide,
To a cascade of chattering leaves;
The screams and panic and terror inside
Shook the church to its very eaves.
And then, oh then, oh horror pure,
The spectre appeared at the door.
His bloodied hair, his sombre allure,
Chilled the living to the core.
The vicar clutched up bible and ran
Through a hidden door to the side,
The singer opened his cloak like a fan
And wrapped all the children inside.
The women bemoaned this cruellest loss,
They wailed to the crucified Christ.
But bound and weak and nailed as he was,
There was nothing he could do.
* This Poem should be read in conjunction with 'The Pauper's Grave'
Journey's End by Shane Cogan (September 2013)
Silently we stood tall
The sun’s dawn chill on our backs
We gathered our last few belongings
The grey skies swirled over us
Onwards and upwards we walked
Little to do, we merely talked
Oh, the endless array of colours
Oh, the senseless decay of society
The autumn countryside air fed us
Fresh golden crisp sounds under our feet, our hooting horn
Azure skies shone now, the greyness vanished
Reaching up high, seeking solace…we moved on
Teaching us it was, freaking us out…we moved on
But there is no escape ever for a nomad
A wanderer: she pondered…and I squandered
Oh, there it was again
Oh, the planet we sought
I breathed in the warm dusk air
She breathed in the moonlit sky
Ravens swarmed over us, creating one dark cloud
Bats vibrated, as feeding time commenced
Harvest gatherers signalled night time
A lonely police siren echoed sleep time
Then we both felt its glaze upon our faces
It stole our smile
It sapped our energy
Oh, we could not move
Oh, yet only approve
Resting, we had no choice but too stargaze
We shifted our tired bodies
We emptied our final belongings
The crystal full moon had hypnotised us
The sun’s distant tale had teased us
The endless blanket of stars now warmed us
An epic sky tale of foe and friend had begun
We gazed. We starred. We dreamed
Nothing could have prepared us
Nothing had been written about its glory
Indigo colours encircled its core
Hazy lights acted as a sky highway
Interlinked, interconnected, intergalactic
First our planet, then their planet
We gave way, we gave in
Our journey at an end
A new one to begin
We had found our planet
Our people
Our nature
We smiled
We blinked
We spoke
We said: Welcome home
For the EPIC (OLD/NEW) Poem contest
I woke up this morning
and felt a little cold
thought I might have lost
a little piece of soul.
I boiled up some water
poured some coffee in a mug
and wished you were here by me
to give me a warming hug.
I remember as a child
I’d give my mothers dress a tug,
She would pick me up
and give me the warmest hug.
I would put my head against her
and she would kiss my mug,
put me down on the floor
where I’d run laughing on the rug.
Some people take their solace
in their use of drugs
and others find their solace
in tipping up a jug.
I just laugh at them
and give it all a shrug
I know there’s nothing stronger
than the power of a hug.
I wish there was a chain in time
that I could give a tug
and you would appear before me
and give me a loving hug.
I’d put my arms around you
pull you close to me
and hold you till we vibrated
into eternity.