Best Warding Poems
Whisper's of October
Whispers in this soup bowl
20 minutes after its muse explodes,
Daylight remains nothing more than a dream
Warding off the howling sound in mid-September's stream
Casting a line about a ginger light,
found in the depths of everything
Engaging from the sitting twilight, numb, tranquilized
Exposing and expressing the emotions found within
An attic lost in the Ancient sky ---awaits
A poetic hand is formed ---reaching out
A hissing whisper out of the darkness,
Listen-in, the echoes of October are calling
A halo, that reconciles a mysterious monarch moon
A mono grip in which summons a mysterious voice
of sweet serenity
Poets posting poems along the midnight page
Each poet can compose a poem and mimic free fallen verses,
One might call it a creative craving curse,
Webmaster's whose words speak for themselves
Voiceless-
They feel, and spills the will of idolized ink,
Blind-handed, splitting day from night
Warm whispers, needing no food to consume
Migraines of ink, feeding the soul
Burning Pages, overused pens
They've forgotten the pretty flowers
Living like lions, who never comes out of their dens
Murmuring and devouring, the enigmas of the unknown
Eyes behind a sieve, close tighter than before,
They hide nothing-
A world created from every sky-scrape the wall
Wanting to belong, a trick -or- treat*er in disguise
No friends, everything is pretend
These poets can’t be described, can't be believed
They are the best in what they do
For all you know this poet might be me,
This poet might be you
9/3/14
WHAT HAPPENED
Darkness is enveloping sinister
and frightening,
Elusive, alluring, captivating and
Inviting,
Every night it falls like a
clock that is punctual,
And we accept it as a part of
Our life that is factual,
Whilst the earth revolves
around a burning sun,
Giving us light,
Our moon revolves around
Planet earth,
That’s how it all began.
In the beginning was God –
The beginning of time,
Is when light and darkness
Starts to make sense in this rhyme.
And eventually the beginning of time,
Sought for man, and so we
Began our inevitable climb!
Thanks to Greek Mythology,
And the gods, Prometheus, it is said
Stole fire from the heavens, giving it
To humankind,
Which brought about the start
Of civilization, for now
Man could find,
And make warmth, hot food,
Primitive weapons, comfort and light,
Warding off dangerous predators
Of incredible might.
But Man also inherited evil
And so it was born,
From the serpent and Eve,
No longer was man as God
Made him, naïve.
The time of darkness and light,
And evil and good,
Is now understood,
Both were rife
In life!
The Crusaders who fought and killed
In the name of Christianity and God
Were a so called valiant lot,
But truly an evil killing squad!
After many eons we evolved and
And arrived at the last century, when
Two world wars were fought!
Millions of Jews were killed
In the 2nd World War’s plight,
Under Hitler, an evil leader who only
Saw his light,
In battle after battle and fight after fight!
Today we still fight the battle
Between darkness and light
It's name is narcotics, which allure
Youngsters into the darkness of life,
For which they will slice one
With a knife!
What are we heading for, for what
Is our strife?
Humankind should fervently
Pray for peace,
A life that is far from evil and dark,
Remember what happened for only
Noah, his family and few animals
And his Ark!
This could certainly happen again!
If atom bombs severe our planet in parts,
Human hearts,
Have already been chosen from
The North, South, East and West,
To start a new era from the mild, kind,
And faithful who have already
Been put to the test!
Halloween
Haunting monsters roam on an October Halloween spooky night
As munchkin stroll dress in their costumes that fright
Large carved pumpkins laugh as inside candles flicker bright
Lifeless lackadaisical zombies walk the street on sight, ghost in white
Occasional Owl hoot as monsters howl in the darkness plight
Witches on broomstick, Warlocks wrapped in black capes, before day light
Enchanting the moon. Spiders that bite, weaving sticky webs that stick-tight
Eerie gravestones and casket lids that open yelling "Boooo…."at midnight
Night ebbs with jumpin sounds of trick-or treat, ghost, goblins dance in delight
~
Naughty black feline stepping its paws nonchalantly teasing the dog
~
Nonplussed decrepit two- story haunted house
Idle and dank surrounded by broken down fencing and gnarl skeletal tree boughs
Grave “No TRESPASSING” sign forbidding entry for even a mouse
Hangs warding off the unwanted and those that had doubts
Tenebrous gloom brought brooding shadows around the house
10/13/2016
Children Story
Menacing black eyes that penetrate so deep
Searching my soul for the answers he seeks
I will not reveal
Nor relinquish my silence
My secrets confined to a space unobserved
Angels guard my soul
Safeguarding me from this malevolence
Protecting my vulnerability
Warding off sinful thoughts
The demons hiding behind his eyes
Torture me with memories
Of a man who was caring and kind
Shapeshifted into a stranger I longer know
A shadow
Lurking in the darkness
Waiting to pounce
Stalking his prey
As sinister as the darkest night
Angels and demons battle each day
Balancing life with good and evil
Basking in their glory the demons dance
Angels celebrate their victory with smiles and jubilation
Tugged from light to dark
From one breaking dawn to the next
I am weary
Fatigued from the fight
Demons urge me to give up
Join them in their hell
The angels give me the strength to fight on
Inspiration to struggle through the day
I close my eyes
The angels create my dreams
I am happy
Running through golden meadows with no chains
The sky is blue
Sun shining just for me
I see my future bright and clear
The angels guiding my way
No more tears
No more demons
Only happiness in my future
Contentment without menacing black eyes
Gargoyles
Water Spitters
Seething, Guarding, Vexing
Warding Off Near Evil Spirits
Legends
Yellow chard stain index finger smears my logic puzzle,
Sour cream cilantro splatter quite the quaint “addition”
juicy brain pump lemon zest solution that I guzzle,
number crunching sea salt a spur to intuition
Roasted sweet potato has me snapping at the grid
toting up those lettuce layer 3 by 3 cells
carrot colour pencil point to “whisk” the sums I did
geometric square outside a salad bowl that gels
With mango stone eraser I can sculpt another route
Imagine all those French bean digits driving me insane
kidney bean ensemble sighs “give that row the boot.”
I sniff balsamic vinegar to make quick fixes plain
Sudoku trail incumbent has fresh basil hint in mind
while churning sumptuous avocado neuron cell alert
feasting off that figure fetish nutrient aligned
“You’ll crack this with some bamboo shoot” an Einstein voice might blurt
Basic rule of algorithm leads to Asian aniseed
Check online for symbolic totals, those grains that raise the stakes
rabbit food as tummy loaded “combo” itching to succeed
but one should pause awhile on computation,
for cayenne flavour breaks
Heuristically I dribble walnut fractions on a page
footnote to some taco leaf conundrum
Interlocking data cuts the mustard as we age
Another beetroot slice and cryptic teaser warding
off the boredom
NB I have an acquired expertise with regard to Sudoku
logic puzzles. But I also like to cook.
The nutrients sustain my Sudoku efforts.
OCTOBER PANTOUM
Rufous luster of Autumn on October allures assures romance under azure sky.
Celtic seasonal festival Samhain proclaims completion of harvest in plenitude.
Treats-tricks at Halloween Eve October Thirty First welcoming Winter to enter.
Bonfires to lit blazing aflame warding off evil spirits, driving dreadful devils.
Celtic seasonal festival Samhain proclaims completion of harvest in plenitude.
Carving, painting fleshy pumpkin to win in Halloween Party at mystique night,
Bonfires to lit blazing aflame warding off evil spirits, driving dreadful devils.
Clad in pitch black, glad in mud mask, mad to outsmart scary sinful sick souls.
Carving, painting fleshy pumpkin to win in Halloween Party at mystique night.
Treats-tricks at Halloween Eve October Thirty First welcoming Winter to enter.
Clad in pitch black, glad in mud mask, mad to outsmart scary sinful sick souls.
Rufous luster of Autumn on October allures assures romance under azure sky.
10/07/19
First Place
'Poet's October Pantoum' Contest by William Kakaula
'Strand Special 5' Contest by Brian Strand
After the storm, my brother
(all gangly knees and elbows)
bore the brunt of its ferocious aftermath.
Every day after school
I watched his wiry biceps bulge a little
as his handsaw scritched against the tree
which had fallen diagonally across our front yard.
I witnessed the violence of metal on wood,
the violence of The King of the Mountain’s smirk
as he too watched, his greedy eyes
taking in my brother’s razor sharp collar bone,
with jaw set in furious concentration.
This imposed punishment was meant to goad my brother,
meant to tempt him to rage
so that the next time the stepdad slugged him
he would feel justified, holy even.
Kneeling on scratchy couch to watch
I scrunched my shoulders,
Folding into myself like an accordion,
gathering myself up to make of me something smaller;
I pressed my knees together
wrapping my arms around them
and lowered my head,
waiting for the sky to rain trees
with swollen trunks, and branches thrust downward
as if warding off a sickening impact with earth.
My brother, it seems,
must be punished for the crime of
his existence;
for this the stepdad’s eyes shone bright,
bright as the heavy duty flashlights
he begrudgingly loaned my brother
so he could work far into the night.
His eyes fairly burned with lust—
The lust of sadism’s glee.
I saw him lick his lips;
You’d have thought he’d conjured up this
Columbus Day Storm all by himself
for the sole purpose
of proving to my brother
that he had no right
to co-exist with him in the same universe.
I watched until my eyes burned
and my head ached dully
and my brother, sweating and chilled,
laid down his saw
swiped his arm across his forehead,
and straightening up, met my wary gaze
with the scoured look
of shame whittled down into hatred,
sawn away into stumpy pieces like an old tree trunk.
After the storm my brother cleaned up nature’s wrath.
He stood a little taller and his eyes, when they met his abuser’s,
burned unflinching.
After the storm we feigned memory loss
Pretended that nothing had shifted in our family dynamic.
We sat down to meals silent and repressed and picked up our forks
as if the stepdad hadn’t just won a major battle,
as if my brother’s days in that household were not numbered.
The baleful words you say,
Leave painful scars in me
Permitting them to possess my heart
Oppressively.
Withstanding the bitterness and pain
You caused,
Conquering and diminishing me
By using your atrocity,
Feeling sadness flowing violently,
Warding happiness away,
Filling my eyes with hurtful tears
And meaningful pain,
Feeling the darkness reign.
God,
You’re my ally,
You’re the one I stand still for,
Forgive my sins,
Ease my pain,
Reborn the me in me again...
we live such fragile lives
subject to earth, wind, water, fire
alive in a universe we barely understand
despite all our probative energy
attempting to stay the hand of death
one more hour, one more day
warding off its perceived finality
a woman once dreamed of an airplane crash
jet fuel and blood streaking her face
like drops of rain
bodies falling through the sky
horrified, she watched as they hit the ground
only to become new life forms
a contiguous existence, death passing into life
as gracefully as a blossom
falls to the earth
this image a stark contrast
to the decimation we experience
our terrified response to earthquake and flood
we base our security on
transient forms and beings
human flesh and personality, a beloved pet
structures composed of concrete, wood, metal
this is my daughter, my dog, my partner
this is my house, my office, my car
when natural phenomena
disrupt our carefully constructed lives
we are shocked, grief-stricken
appalled at the universe
for dealing such a blow
indignant at God's apathy
and in our blindness, fail to witness
death's genesis
A Blustery Autumn Day
Mischievous bursts of autumn’s laughter
Pulls down the last of the season’s bright artistry
Carried away on blustery gusts,
Weaving a tapestry of autumn’s magic
In tiny whirlwinds of yellow, orange and umber –
Floating like capricious ghosts into hazy skies
Waiting for the rains -
Then chasing jubilees of color into dry puddles of drifting leaves,
Like flying cartwheels,
Scattering,
Then gathering in again,
And just for fun
Lifting fringes of woolen mufflers, warding off the chill,
Taking aim at woolen hats with rowdy gusts
Delighting in their tumbling down broad sidewalks,
Crowded with bright leaves,
In pirouettes,
Spinning kaleidoscopes in shades of whimsy,
Careening down the lanes or bustling avenues,
Catching breath again to huff and puff,
Blowing in erratic tempest tarantellas,
And giggle
Watching footballs taking errant paths,
Tickling summered tree limbs exposed,
No cover for their naked branches,
With passing gales of glee,
Resounding with the call of cornucopia’s horn
To gather in the Indian corn, pumpkins and ripe wheat
Before the coming days of icy storms
Blow hard with unrelenting icy currents
In winter squalls returning.
Ages there are in which the ration'l man
And th'intuitive stand side by side, the one
In fear of intuition, or scorn for abstraction;
Irrational one, the other inartistic.
They both desire to rule over their life,
Unreal or real, counting life to be.
Prudence, foresight and regularity,
The means with which one meets needs principal.
One o'erjoyed hero disregards these needs,
Counts life as beauty and an illusion.
As in the 'case in ancient Greece, th'intuitive,
Handles his weapons authoritatively,
Victoriously than his opponent, and
Establishes art's mastery over life.
All utensils we use in daily life,
Were made from art, not from our pressing needs.
Houses, our clothes, our clay jugs, all them were
Intended to express exalted joy.
Guided by abstractions and concepts, we
Succeeds in warding off our misfortunes,
Without ever gaining any happiness;
So that's the case the ration'l man's life is.
Th'intuitive man, aim freedom from his pain,
Standing a-firm amidst his culture's frame,
Reaps cheer, illumination and redemption.
Defense against misfortunes, he obtains.
I was once advised to read Nietzsche's 'On Truth And Lies In A Non-moral Sense.'I do not read Nietzsche; I sing it. I sing 'On Truth And Lies In A Non-moral Sense' this way. I am sad to observe that Nietzsche did not write it this way but in his eloquent flowing prose. Unfortunately, when I look at such prose and skim content, lines appear this way to me.
A Poem By P.S.Remesh Chandran. Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books. Trivandrum.
Read more about our views on poetry and about our various poetry editorial services, kindly visit http://poetryeditservice.blogspot.in/
My GRANDFATHER loved to work. His schedule from 3 am till 6 pm we were farmers
-we is a lot of people who's here?- He asks.
-We Are.
With the scream of a Legendary fighter we all say "We Are" proudly looking at each other. The cows have a special meaning to WE,
They were Nurture to be Healthy and Beautiful and were a Legendary Hobby after 6 meaning that they Shine, than won all trophy's for strength beauty and behaving. Cerneja was an Imperatriz, temperamental, always ready to fight for her kingdom. Here comes the one of many risk-free situations in a natural site in the Vasdos the the Luso-Amazonia between 4 cows and dozens of Bovidae mammals, sheep and goats included, and with Cerneja out of control trying (have done before) to sacrifice an innocent well nurtured and less beautiful for Cer-kingdom standards and a solution. From HIS 2 meters of an well balanced body structure holding a horn push and propelling with so much energy, Cer smash like a meteor to the floor over the farmers and Farmer and Animal kingdom stupefaction and our daze (the best,the Queen "Cerneja" almost a myth "and what about the empire-we thought". The kingdom always goes on.
Replaced Cer was sold for good money divided between the two owners (some animals like most of the land had more than one owner). The chirurgical eye of my HEART was so right and we were so wrong that Cer killed the unfortunate brand new owner and was given to the local slaughter house for THE FARMER unhappiness our dejection and all the WOMEN in the house joy In killing one of us instead one of others and Cerneja was evil-
What stays is GULLIVER well tied to a chair by dwarves (in any pattern out of NBA tallest) while naptime warding off a fly and waking up smiling and feigning stretching the tight ropes
-It's time to work
Farmers pay back with the same coin to each other-WORK- And money comes from selling shared properties animals and milk.
Sharing HERO type of stories always with coffee, good food and wine I was always involved in the exchange and legendary people are generally anonymous - in this particular that's not true for the heroism and courage stories but still will continue anonymous. Thank You For the Kindness and Patience and I hope You continue to Produce Alike because What We Got, Get For Free We Give Back For Free, Right!
Right or Wrong?
She lets Atlantic waters
Shape her rugged shores
From sandy unspoilt beaches
To her mighty Granite towers
Warm breezes from the Gulf Stream
She welcomes when they arrive
Even though they bring her
Rain laden cloudy skies
Yet that is what makes
Her grass so emerald green
The most beautiful island
That you have ever seen
Her silver lakes and rivers
And heather covered hills
Brown peat from bogs does welcome
Warding off deep winter chills
Her seeds are scattered over
This great globe that we frequent
When we return to her again
It’s a present Heaven sent
To look and to admire
The views that she provides
We stand there as the tears fall
And our hearts they fill with pride
Muddled, eyes slowly drift off to slumber.
Through labyrinth blackness, perception ambles.
Blurring thoughts, a carousel of blunders,
spell I'm under, waning motion rambles.
Unearthed from the nadir, dragged from hiding,
wedged in a dream embraced by the cold dark.
Awaken by my screams not heard; finding
it was a dream, leaving a chilling mark.
Surrendering streams of tears mar my face,
a victim of deep fears and silent screams.
Cradled in his affectionate embrace,
warding off baneful effects of my dreams.
Dreams of love, dream that take you into hell,
where unresolved unconscious problems dwell.
6/19/2017