Best Visioning Poems
Gardens of golden threaded Cyprus;
evergreens perfume sings me halfway to sleep.
I breathe in the wafting scents of neighbor’s roses;
with elation my spirit weeps.
The drumming of leaping goldfish in a pond nearby calls to dragonflies and they zip by me; lovely translucence in the spotlight rays of old Sol;
This is how things should be.
City life holds no joy for those who are naturalists; only concrete and boredom.
Breathing in another scented moment; I can feel the dragonfly wings, beating time to the Koi drums song.
Another breath and I ride a dragonfly to liquid refreshment.
My vision’s broken only by and old bullfrogs bloated croak.
I am a stranger in his world; “Stop staring”, I say to him and his about face response, says he has heard.
I watch him snap up a fly with his sticky-quick tongue and one hundred percent accuracy; the Koi drums continue...I melt back into my visioning state, again.
The city’s load on my mind is lightening and my heart feels nearly free;
of the steel-toothed grinding wheel that is my thankless job.
Were it not for nature; I’d go insane; plomp…plomp…plomp…the drums pull me back again.
How is it that the human species can take pride in the concrete nightmares they create without a second thought of Gaia’s children?
Again, plomp…plomp…plomp of the Koi drums.
3-12-2022
Garden Inspirations Poetry Contest
BJ Legros Kelley
Looking into the black crystal
I prognosticate;
the future unrolls
as a sheet of silk.
Swirling, curling, unfurling;
auric waves pin wheeling
in the blackness
of the stones heart.
Energies tickle my skin
soul-melding transmission beamed
through my all-seeing eye;
I am terrorized, traumatized,
elated and mesmerized.
In visions of a future, bleak
tiny happy diamonds peep
through occlusions both
shallow and ever so deep.
Black crystal tells me,
all is not lost, but for our ills
we must pay the cost.
light penetrated dark, sound birthed
the Word ~ p o e t r y
a superlative emitting that which changes
emerging when ripened as verse
speaking to people faraway
unlocking alphabets from minds
to glide, fast fly, jump or slowly crawl, landing
at destined places, swords or aces
I am Poetry ~ weep or whimper not for me
existentially dancing, enthralling, glancing at
blank paper to be embroidered in ink
ruby red, black or olive green
free flow I from fingers fragile, artistic or sturdy
regulate me only for joy or exploring expansion
perhaps for judicious judgement
I, P o e t r y ~ sequins of Love convoluted or rayed, in service
purifying emotive sentiments conditioned, romantic, missioned
Heart is my home where rest my letters, forms
cadences, couplets, epics
in non-bewildered intelligence visioning dreamscapes
divine, liberated from bandages, buckles, bondages
alive is my Supersoul breath giving voice to electrons
protons, neutrons which fleetingly capture
essenced life through observed elixirs
as Poetry, I witness action followed by pure
stillness ~ transcendental whirlpools in orbits
my limbs reach language lyrical or plain
burnished and wise
cherishing recitals in sacred spaces
I activate thoughts and visions remaining
supremely unattached attuning words
for Grace ~
undulate imagination in perfect waves
misty, clear or intricate, intriguing, unblemished
gratifying, swivelling, sizzling in my own
fire or ice
I, Poetry, consummated
voice the W o r d
A house without an inch of warmth
A house without a ray of sun
A house without a shrill laugh
A house where nobody voices out a pun
Such a house can never be a home!
Home Sweet Home, There is no place like Home,
Such a comforting tone carried in such a note
As at today's date, it can be seen as ghostwrote
For a Home is no longer sweet, but a sour dome
Selfish are its residents, proud and aimless as well
No more are the members loving and caring
No more do they work and play while dancing
No more do they talk and laugh while singing
No more do they read and write while hugging
No more do they share and fight while enjoying
Rather, they tend to sleep and eat alone
Such a trend is common and fashionable
Nor is it taken as the abominable
Neither is it seen as condemnable
For the hidden eyes of the devil, it is not so enviable!
Worthy beings full of imagining
Pray, do change these unworthy visioning
Pray, do not hurt your families' heartlings
Be seen as the enlightened pearls with meanings
And carry forth this message for families in faking!
You can make it happen;
One soul your soul can live that beautiful morning when
a sigh of relief will wake you up today older a shorter life
than yesterday due to the changes that occur as results of the
passing time todays journey will heal all your bleeding wounds.
If you don't fly with a strong personality you will be stuck
in what you know and not discover what you don't know.
Create a light to shine that would venture with your shadow
while getting older to not hide behind it.
A vision that can wake up with you to move you forward grow
in your depth to become present in time living up everyday
in the same pattern is giving up on change and living moments
are very short this is the moment to be strong seize that given
moment set yourself loose even sense your sadness walk to wait
for the midnight hour, count your stars talk to them tell them
to be here tomorrow when you come back.
An illusion that you can accept the root of unconsciousness that
can light up your night to touch the sky as you need not to predict
the unpredictable and leave your damages behind to advance let
your soul be very truthful to you and became addicted to life
start visioning a light in your depth that you`ll never shut off.
Create choices to identify what`s in your mind now & that
includes emotions to sleep by you. Ask yourself why you wanted
to hide, why? from whom? find the answer you know what ?
silence is your pride change is your goal respect is what you are
looking for and that is what makes you so special.
A vision that can tap into your worst days to deprive you from
feeling vulnerable save your life to not hurt yourself listen to
the ticking clock a handle that remind you of the time passing
don't grow up unhappy like most people do lift up yourself
esteem as it doesn't fit picking up the pieces in a deserted island
walk through a path where you can make a connection even
with nature connect and create and walk.
You can make it happen;
Listen to your heart today as you don't want to live
anymore in a state of fear and want.
Terry
7/3/2013
Can't Let Go
Can't let go of the feeling....being lost without a cause just cause....
I have no Clause....no calls to being some one's....(belonging to no one)....
not just anyone's....but that some one who would always want me for me...
not who I could be...I can't let go of...
short passages with no aim in this poetry stained game...I stay a slave to...
making my pen engrave the words quicker then my mind thinks....
filling the paper with empty but thoughtful passages links...to a piece of my heart
yet another wasted unpublished word art...
I part with no dashes...write about lost and found love....
yup staying a slave to this felling I can't let go of....
Fighting with such a discretion when my mind thinks...
Visioning alphabetical words when my eyes blinks...
Jotting down so many sentences my hand stinks...
being a slave to this poetry stained game links
to a piece of my heart yet another wasted unpublished word art....
By:Peter T. DeSpirito
The glass walls caved in with a roar
a yellow storm that broke the faulty veins that had been
up till now
Invisible.
And I, clutching a rag of paper in guilty hands
curled up at the end of a dilapidated wooden bench
at last doing what I should have my whole life –
Late, once again, on the one day lateness is not excused.
I have always imagined the world ending
with a shattering of stained glass
we had painted to portray the thing we called beauty, and
that had shined vulgar colors on us for millions of lives;
a jolt of awakening from some nightmare into
something that cannot be as easily defined,
for in all minds it is a different message;
a violent wrenching open of the hidden crack of light
in an atlas that had seemed impenetrable, endless –
but the entire time had merely been an idiot’s doodle.
In that moment
whether it be in a dream like this or in some
mad state of visioning
the feeling cannot be snipped and trimmed
and stuffed into a four-letter word,
for it defies all language and
pulls the strings hanging from mind and soul and stomach
pulls them and plays a cat's cradle game with them
and leaves the limbs wild and dancing
with the silliness of a drunk man’s misery.
And yet all fell back into order when I opened my eyes
from a dream that had the power to awake,
and glanced at the rotting walls.
There seemed to be tremendous joy written in them, for
I saw at last their stains were of glass.
Form:
MATTHEW SIX TEN STUMP
I picked up a new stump today
‘Twas cut from a giant pine tree
Matthew Six Ten is his name
His circles say he is about 93
Cut from the mid-section
Standing almost 16 inches tall
With the width of circumference
Being about 17 inches wide in all
The definition of
Matthew six ten
Is written in the Bible
As a glimpse of heaven
When I stand on my stump
I stretch up towards the sky
Visioning my heavenly treasures
Our hearts are where our treasures lie
The vision of my eyes carries my soul
My body soaks up and shines the light
The stump seems to shine the righteous path way
That feels like a glimpse of heaven within my sight
My Matthew Six Ten stump
Reminds me that God already knows
Of all of my needs while on this earth and
To be thankful for the time of now that grows
Florence McMillian (Flo)
OF BEAUTIFUL MORNING GLORIES…
The ebon night
has slowly waned
and the peaking dawn
waxes as the horizon slowly
raises its eyelid releasing
a sleepy orange glow.
Slowly, the giant
earthly eyeball begins
to brightly shine morning
with its eternal visioning of life
and another perpendicular promise
has been given to another paralleling
ebony night had caused my soul to wander.
This phenomenal sequential
experience of over eighty years
can only be deemed a precious blessing
of continuousness in the labor of love
and service God has so assigned me.
Having once again risen
with the bright sun and
the resurrected enlightening
awareness His son has bestowed
upon me, I give thanks; beseechingly
requesting divine wisdom and divine
guidance in my mission purpose
service to my creator by being
of service to fellow beings
with whom I collectively and
fearlessly travel through the valleys
of the shadows of death in the molded
footprints His love has left for me to journey.
Thus, once more and again
may I, be an instrument
of God’s molding peace
and an ebon reflecting mirror
of His eternal love as I seek to be
as warm sunshine in someone’s life
and they likewise in mine as we dove
soar with bright eyes still on the prize
in a new dawning of rejoicing gladness:-
We are all
with such or other way
have lead, moved himself or drifted out
from eternal Truth.
We are all
lived in Crist
or hidden of him
attracted to him
or betryed him,
escaping from his commandments
for convenient and comforting
existence in lies.
We are all
have splatted and grouped
for dozen religious and
hundredths branches and currents
growing from one stalk and foundation.
All specters and retrospects
of human searching and breaktroths
turnings and returnings
towards one Truth
with such or other way.
Russian orthodoxies,
Roman Catholics’,
Islam religious,
Anglican churches,
The Protestants confections,
Judaism,
Buddhizm, Sintoizm, Shamanizm and Tengrians
together with Communizms ideologies
These are all absolutely
the recollections of Crist,
prognozing him
predicting his transcendence,
visioning his laws
vaguely, clearly on not so
or creating heavy deformed image
of one Eternal Truth
who coming to us,
or gone near us
or blocked long ago
with our own falsehood, trades and traditions.
Hiding sojourn in tranguillity thinking,
Ear relaxation rested upon the elderly.
Listening of belongings carried on earth.
Participating speech of years visioning.
Things come and went in an instead breath breeze.
Engraving lover's souls within the skin bark.
Haughty lettering tattoo,
Leaving grief words,
Never removed from it's outer body.
Weeping stories,
Broken hearten,
Tear trails wounded this tale-master of all seasons.
Death fallen on it's rooted-path.
Children danced.
Years brought forth old,
Left the final air,
Facing this beauty stand.
Green hair to orange-red,
Moments color in wonder enchantment.
Writing in the hearing,
Catching my intake life,
Exhaust for relief.
Wars fought,
Time lost,
People drifted with the fashioned realm.
"Tell me more, I plead!"
Than realizing,
The finished,
I will have to see with my own life lived,
Rooted on earth,
Like my friend,
The Oak Tree-
Form:
She
twirls
while
hanging
mistletoe
maybe
just
maybe
the new guy
at her shop is
coming to
Christmas
Fest
she grins
visioning
prospects
of
their first
kiss
December 20, 2015
For Kim's Waltz Wave Contest
Oh!!!Dear pussy cat
You run after the poor rat
Visioning about your delicious meal
You forget about thy snatching skill
The rat is free from the threatening paw
And it scamper away straight into the hole
The cat comes out of the dream
And regrets all the whole scene
The image within,
is it there?
From what I see,
there's nothing there.
I see nothing,
but the darkest shadows within,
the essence of the unwanted souls,
the cries of every undead.
Horror is only there in their eyes,
with the undead beasts drowning them,
with their organs ripped of,
by boiling them.
Witnessing death,
visioning hell,
I could only felt tears rolling,
mind vowing,
hands praying,
and justice to be serve.
Mirror,mirror on the wall,
I wish i could fend for them all.
Form:
"the chase"
some say the chase starts with a glance or stare
waiting for each other visioning a moment to share
others say the chase starts with a whisper of hello
hoping for a greeting of good morning and afterglow
you say the chase continues beautifully time after time
making it a mission of hope with a mountain to climb
I say what an adventure the chase has been thus far
for the pursuit is nothing short of a shooting star
whether glances whispers endless times or chance
the chase for us is a life changing endless dance
SkyWatcher
02-28-23