Best Vitreous Poems
"Home is Where the Heart Is"
Savages
behind closed doors
Civilised
but wild animals
sharpening claws
Humanity
tries to escape itself
can’t run away
from finding
"TRUE HOME"
behind closed doors
Now opening windows
fresh air
escaping shadows
Legs splayed and arms wide
breathe
"LIFE"
in for once,
we are empty vessels
noisy prisoners
in our own skin
Soul seeking Soul
peers through
the vitreous humour
99% water, salty
the Soul swims
through an ocean
towards the aqueous perimeter
facing the clear shallows
there the
"LIGHT"
penetrates the space
between the lens
like royal jelly
the Soul stands
it begins to sing
wobbling behind
the retinas reflecting
a Blue Sky
bit by WASP
kissed vehemently
in the heart
the stinging barb fixed,
Love, like a virus,
pumps the relevance
of existence
Crimson
through
Violet Blue Green rivers
Home is where the Heart Is
the hornets’ nest broken
rebirthed, awoken
wet wings spreading
unfurling in lock-down
velocity rattles
the Normals,
the civilised
wild animals
sharpening claws
a Soul
escapes the hive
dripping honey
like a Bee
pollinating white sheets
towards the Sun
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
“Home is Where the Heart Is” / The Chameleons
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOl9lohiMP8
1. The 'Vitreous Humour'
2. WASP
"Home is Where the Heart Is" / The Chameleons, Lyrics
https://genius.com/The-chameleons-home-is-where-the-heart-is-lyrics
https://visioneyeinstitute.com.au/eyematters/the-vitreous-humour/
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/all_that_is_seen_and_unseen_1223436
The clover lay still, closed,
small, certain,
nothing to offer,
the color of her going dark—
a vitreous-Tyrian.
The bee, chromatic senses’ tasting on the tongue-tip
licking the runes of black-light-lace
circled once, twice—
warm wing-drift brushing kindred nearness
his thorax trembling, scent of sun-saturated-sweetness
nectarous-fragrant with desire.
He loved the clover
and she opened—
bright, fearless, certain—
the sound of yellow flooding her interior
surrendering her nectar into sunlight-passion
petals, wings, one heart
timelessly infused.
Lunging forward a stab to the heart,
vitriol hurled at an unsuspecting soul.
A sarcastic word or comment, thrown in jest,
tearing flesh, leaving a gaping hole.
I was only joking, ha ha, wasn't that fun?
he says to no one.
Why are you hurt?
They're only words you know,
letters put together as one.
Intentional or not, caustic words will burn,
stinging speech cannot be unstung.
Hurtful songs, once sang, cannot be unsung.
Playing the dangerous game of sarcasm,
is like shooting words in derision.
Vitreous feelings are shattered,
only causing hurtful division.
Sarcasm is not innocent child's play,
it bites, it leaves marks, that forever may remain.
Think before you speak there are always consequences to hurtful speech!
John Derek Hamilton November 18,2015
Seasons
With a chill still in the wind, spring arrives
Clutching her white coat that slowly melts
In Sun's warmth, coaxing blossom's birth.
Humidity heavy with the scent of Jasmine
Announces summer's steamy footsteps
As ripe strawberries share sweet savors.
A harvest moon greets lovely autumn, smiling,
When her frosty breath changes verdant leaves
To glorious hues, drifting down, dancing to death.
When winter white fleeces her snowy shawl,
Maple trees share syrup from their vitreous veins.
Hearth's smoke rises above naked trees at rest.
4-4-16
~Third Place~
Contest: Seasons
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Listening to the Blues on this cerulean night,
my mood dark with visions of ecchymotic dreams
leaving chalybeous bruises in my crazed mind.
I waited for the turquoise twinkle in your smiling azure eyes
to soothe the despondent indigo thoughts I'm feeling.
Like a vitreous vapor I could feel you, but you did not appear.
I guess your cold cyaneous attitude shouldn't surprise me,
it's what I deserve, after leaving your beautiful mind filled
with empty, brooding, questioning, mazarine emotions.
Now I sit here alone watching the aqua liquid of your cocktail
throwing slowly fading teal reflections on a crinkled napkin
as the argon Curacao sign blinks lonely above the empty bar.
Liquid slowly pools in the corner of my cesious eyes.
You used to call them your sapphire visions into my soul,
now they're just old and faded like our cyanotic love affair.
It seems you have finally had enough of my broody blue moods.
I don't blame you, they've cost me more than just you in my life,
as for now I'll just wait in my livid sorrow and listen to the lonely Blues.
02/28/16
When all squabbles and wars shall cease
As for the complete world, we will create peace
Individuals ought to be more socially adept,
not scolding one another for being incorrect.
Contemplation involves ample guidance,
and eradicates our pretentious contrivance
We might also switch the soul's floodgate
Recognizing that we harvest what we create.
War arises as a struggle for power and land
People at times just need a helping hand
Avoid self-interest and under-mount sinks,
And pleading for humanity to peace winks.
Kindred children are resilient and vitreous
Loss of candor led them to become igneous
We might limit our focus to pursuing peace,
Our voice ought to reflect love, not decease.
My spiritual self serves as my divine guide,
Seeking understanding is a process inside
I buried my treasured self hidden within,
where it will be safe against earthly sin.
I place my trust and faith in the Lord above,
Who has convinced me of the eternity of love?
and perseverance that leaves doubts behind,
I aim to induce peace by myself, but inside.
We should all aspire to coexist in peace,
People suffer when there is such a decrease
because it is profoundly ingrained inside,
With our peace, we are inextricably tied.
Written: January 29, 2023
Finding Peace Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
(Apropos Of Our Virtuous Queens)
Sitting here in the beauty
of the blackness of night
my mind and its spirit
are spiritually
and geo-physically drawn
up into the reflections
of the full moon
and companion constellations
all surrounded by beautiful black
holes filled with the light of eternity.
Collecting myself
and returning terrestrially,
my focus returns to earth’s
grounded hued beauty—
resurrecting the illumination
of your own hued beauty—
a hued beauty that is almost
beyond mere words.
For yours is beyond
the perceptions of
Cleopatra; beyond
the subjective/objective
beholder’s eyes;
indeed, your beauty rivals
even that of Nefertiti’s: physical,
spiritual, and given wisdom.
Your beauty my queen is
not merely of the eye but is
seen by the heart and integrity
of the spirit; pregnant with joy,
happiness, and inspirational love;
yes, your beauty is as that of she
known in certain circles as
“The Queen of the South;
a beauty that is scripturally penned
by Sheba, herself: “I am black…[and]…
comely…O ye daughters of…
checks…comely with rows of jewels…
neck…of gold.”
Oh how blessed
we are brethren, with
mothers, “grands”, wives,
daughters, and beautiful
extended-family, vitreous
black-hued women; indeed,
to God be the glory
for the beautiful jewels
bestowed upon the souls
of the blessed you and me.
Darkness persists,
Then in moments appears the vitreous hue
On the horizon
as vision from nowhere filters through
the benighted heavens
the lonesome moon shivers
in apprehension
as her belamy flickers its last
and regresses into the past
Tranquility resounds everywhere
a peace so peaceful and joy so joyous
for everyone to share
yet who but the few stricken by Love
or the ever awake mother dove
have from their slumber this trice to spare
or perhaps the farmer awoken
by some dream that tickled his heart
or the wife goaded by some urgent task
to be done from her chores apart
or the breaved who keep vigil over their dear
ones or those forced by hunger or tiresome wear.
Apart from these, the wandering fog and the silent trees
the cold dead rock and the chilling breeze
testify the morning cheer
More light pours in and nature shows herself
the fog dissolves
the clouds are red and gray
the mynahs and parrots shatter the silence
the rooster announces the day;
the lingering mist over the pond kisses the cold water
as lovers parting at the break of day
after lovely long night hours.
The roscid chrysanthemum shies away
at such a doughty act and shudders
as the wind steals its fragrance and makes it sway;
Harrow! the witeless fogs are wiped by the dour rays
of the Sun, who infuses life in the world of men.
I am so enthralled by a verse
an impressive and virile style conquered
quenching one’s thirst seems hardly emerge
however; all songs, stories and ideas being shared
are gems and have secrets unparalleled when compared
some of the lines titillate the many of my senses
some are like music being played in syncopated rhythm
words paints the images either in abstruse or in complex pieces
undulating emotions rock most of my system
torch of learning is a winch to my fervid will power’s stem
dazzled by highly metaphorical words as if vitreous rocks radiate
like tales of unprecedented events trying to amuse me under the rain
viewing it with fire of ceaseless aims through words that substantiate
analyzing processes be done like sifting and winnowing of grains
a triumph of a glorious scene, a clear topography reigns
Written: March 13, 2013
By Leonora Galinta
(for occlusion contest)
Second Place
Contest: Occlusion
Judged: 3/18/2013
Sponsor: Poet Joe Maverick
That was not a windmill, it was
a beautiful wings-cutting mechanism
with a vitreous red peacock inside
who puts a solar edged Venice afternoon in motion
in a gentle blue square
into which we stuck our wings
so that our heavier-than-air bodies could happily flutter
with one thousand and one flexibilities
on the ethereal geometry above the roofs
where pharaonic flags pompously glorify us
as large cosmic objects pushing comets towards the others
in a fireworks game of our honeymoon…
and, suddenly we found ourselves down:
no, it was definitely not a windmill!
www.simonadancila.com
No one seems to see me
as if I’m a vitreous vase
standing empty
upon a table
before a picture window
of transpicuous glass
bright sunlight
shining through the white
diaphanous curtain
like the sheer gossamer
shroud of a silent ghost
passing through the crystal
of which I am constructed
rendering me nearly
invisible as if I don't exist
as if I have no substance
my presence overlooked
waiting patiently
for someone to bring me
a bountiful bouquet
so I may fulfill my purpose
casting no shadow
on the solid oak floor
as I would if I
were full of flowers
vitreous essence
forever entrapped, frozen
stained glass perfection
~25 May 2016~
Date of First Poem Posted 29 Sep 2005
Syllable count via www.howmanysyllables.com
Drowning in the depths of despair
Their waves of guilt and impotence
Thundering through his brain
The roar drowning out
The anguished pleas
Of family and friends.
Trapped within the unscalable heights
Of torment
Walls rendered impenetrable
By his tortured deafness
His mind thrashed
For a way of escape.
Born of the gilded generation
This doomed Icarian youth
Lured by the amber flame of a vitreous sun
And beaten down by mental strain
Listened for the approaching whistle
And stepped lightly into the void.
The windscreen thump
The driver's startled and pallid face
The screech of brakes
The acrid stench of scorching flesh
And the line at a standstill.
Once the wreckage was cleared
Left behind were the wounds
Lightly to crust over
But beneath, the ever gaping wound
That will never heal.
Just graze the surface
And the pain and questions
Come flooding back.
My eye produced a floater
And although it felt quite weird,
It wasn’t quite as dangerous
As I, at first, had feared.
The vitreous inside the eye
(A jelly-seeming goop)
Becomes, as we grow older,
Less like Jello, more like soup.
Then little teeny fibers
Clump together in your eye,
Casting shadows on the retina
As they go drifting by.
A floater’s shape can vary
So it’s no surprise that mine
Resembled, like a pencil stroke,
A skinny curvy line.
It danced across my vision
From the left side to the right,
Interfering with my reading
And imbuing me with fright.
Though the doctor called it normal,
For it happens as we age,
I don’t need a new reminder
That I’m at that later stage.
Dawns light slithers in, and it scratches your soul
The days eviceration about to unfold
Your mind all a jumble, your flesh all a quake
And you wonder inside " How much more can I take"
Will you hide behind fortress of opiate walls
Do you muster your strength, do you answer the call
The Beast sallies forth, to gnaw on your bones
And you feel your heart flutter, arythmical tones
The Dragon comes hard plunging straight to the quick
You lie there a quivver, your vessel so sick
Your hands fumble blindly for vitreous pill
Will it's weird grace you health, will it's ire turn and kill
You draw crystal daggar, plunge it deep to the hilt
Its potent elixer no drop to be spilt
The Beast flays you liver, you mouth silent sighs
And your throat, without will, cries the smallest of cries
"Oh my God share your mettle" your prayers rise above
And He comes down and kisses your wounds with his love
The Beast vents it's fury, apoplectic with rage
For you both know it's victim has just turned the page
Still the Beast is not finished, your temple to wreck
And he slides up your back and crawls onto your neck
He pummels your skull, sodomizes your brain
His claws scourge your eyes and they bleed steely pain
His feet rake your gullet, your vomitus vent
You fall to your knees, all lifes oxygen spent
But your lance has struck true, and the toxin well laid
You know that this vile demon soon will be slayed
He howls out in anguish, and hides from your light
He slinks from your presence, flees from your might
You have spit in his eye, pissed and shat in his nest
Castrated the Golgoth, shrugged off his best
So you rise to your height, wipe the bile from your chin
And your lips they invoke the subtlest grin
For the Love of your God, companions and kin
Have made legion your forces, the beast can not win.
Your mind feels the grace that your faith doth supply
And you know to your core THIS MONSTER WILL DIE.
Grace and hope to us all
Walter
Hep C 30+ yrs, 2 wks post 24 wk tx, BMS 790052 eRVR