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Best Washed Out Poems

Coffee Colored Memories

It's quiet whisper stirs my languid mind
Inviting coffee colored memories
A young man's face with future yet defined
Each vapored breath a page in history

Familiar apparitions reappear
Whose images I dare not chase away
The roads they traveled, washed out by my tears
This morning's chill a bridge to yesterday

Then as the welcome sun breaks o'er the trees
I find myself attended by a smile
Their goodbyes echo in the rustling leaves
As I walk back alone those last few miles

While standing on the porch I get a chill
Although the morning breeze has now grown still


               Sept 11 2016

memorymorningsonnet

Frozen Noose

Anxiety    (The Worst Noose In Town)

-- like flooding waters, creeping in
I count 30, seconds, holding my breath again
Drowning in agitation, overwhelmed by fear
I try to hide the pressure in hopes I don't pass out
My pores are soaked, from all the perspiration
I feel the pins and needles pushing in
My skin is ruined from all the peeling
At this point, I can't seem to win

Washed out by dead hope and desire 
My soul is lost searching for a shore
leashing, grasping and ripping the chest wide
I count 40, seconds, once nausea can't be blocked
Everything about this moment is driving me mad,
I need to escape, however, my knees are too weak
I tremble while losing control to the emotional distress
My knuckles are pale, detached from reality,
wounds forced with further embarrassment.
Guaranteed failure surrounds my day
Numbness strikes my very essence - I can't move!

Lost in a room, 
Therapy - even so I feel singled out


HAPPY VALENTINES (it can get the best of us)  
---------------------------- love Linda

angstanxietyconflictcrazystressepic

Shades of My Gloom

In vertigo of night, in their riddled trance 
Boldness of petals melt on washed-out shades,
As faces etch a quiet gloom in varied hues
Capturing splashed oil, neutral and bright
While I gaze longingly at a portrait…
Man and wife , as if  holding a child almost
Unseen …hidden through a float of blue-white.

Through dimming pain, a view lights up for a time
Where orange of moonlight quietly slips
Amid this rosette outburst and aching gray,
With blossoms strewn along pale candlelight…
How languid colors begin to mold my thoughts
Drowning in a pang of loneliness… I ask 
In silence..are the couple ,the babe dying?...dead?
And the fusion of tender, lonely motif allows me
To weep inside, captive in a gasping moan... the kind 
Which shapes a tone between life and elegy.



---------
Frank Herrera's  Contest: YOUR PERSONAL BEST of 2016
Written 5/09/2016        Re-submitted 10/18/2016
POTD Awardee
------------------
Inspiration from the painting, Les Amoureux en Gris
Artist: Expressionist, Marc Chagall ( illustration included)

artcolorintrospectionlonelinesslyric

I'Ve Loved Moons That Did Not Glow,Before

My Beloved,

It doesn't matter

 If it is I who comes  to you

or if its you who comes to me

All that  matters

 is to be with you

All that matters

Is to love me true

Cause I' ve loved moons

that did not glow, before

And I loved stars

that did not shine

I drew two hearts 

on sun-kissed sands

One heart was washed-out 

 by the night ~tide.

I lit a candle in silent winds

but has been smothered

by fog and mist

A dreadful sea-foam

stole my pearled sails

and with it

each endearing bliss

My Beloved,

I do know the trade of roses

for the crimson that thorns bleed

I embraced the  pang  of absence

when warmed eyes were not to meet

My Beloved,

It doesn't matter

If it is I who comes to you

Or if its you who comes to me

All that matters

is to always find each other

Cause our love is meant to be.

absencebeautyfree verse

I Will Not Remember You

Tonight,motionless is my sleep

without a thought of you passing my mind

And if the wafting wind breathes softly its zephyr breeze

 upon the pearl blush of my cheek

I will not remember you

Like the rattling sound of crickets 

on the first branch of Spring 

you had come and gone

Now your shadow

blocks the silver of my moon,no more

Like a woodpecker in its last sonata 

you stole our music

but I am learning how to dance

without your song

Forget-me-not petals

scattered in silence on autumn's sidewalk

Fluttering snowflakes covered my hair

with false proposals and winter frost

Your summer footprints have been washed out

I lay in solitude,I lay in solitude

yet still not lost,No,still not lost

Here I am now, a mourning swan yet still a swan 

which pirouettes on a glass stream

There He comes now, splash in calm beauty

Fresh face reflecting upon my dream

Tonight,motionless is my sleep

and if the wafting wind breathes softly  its zephyr breeze

 upon the pearl blush of my cheek

I will not remember you


Inspired by Elton John's song- 'The One'

absencefarewellfree verse

Artist's Brush

Hands
mixing
neutral shades
as brushstrokes form
etches of life’s vignettes in washed-out tones,
Reflecting grim  shadows doused by night’s  ash
Where black  white hints
Trail along
Fingers
Stained.
Grief
In oil
Expressing
Artist's lament
Through paint of tears which words cannot portray.



tetractys 1st place
Contest NO  85 for Briand Strand

arttetractys

Tell Me Your Sercetes

Tell me your sercetes                                                                                                                    The wind wispered                                                                                                                          And I will carry them away                                                                                                                    And the long night of shaddows                                                                                                         Will be washed out by the day                                                                                                     Give me the sarrow that lingers at your door                                                                                                And let your heart  be lifted                                                                                                            With a childs faith once more                                                                                                         Let all now be forgiven                                                                                                                                              Let all your thoughts be free                                                                                                                            And let your dreams all blossom                                                                                                  For all the world to see

confusionmerhyme

Not Ready For My Close-Up

My teeth have gotten crooked.
My eyes sport puffy bags.
My lashes lost their lushness
And my neck, once taut, now sags.

My wrinkles now have cousins
Come to line my washed-out skin,
But it isn’t any mirror that
Reveals the shape I’m in.

For that white-haired older lady,
Peering back across the room,
Is the way the whole world sees me
When I’m on the screen on Zoom.

merhyme

Drunken Moon

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Moon is hung over

the same scene she lit last night

washed out at sunrise


••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

moonmorninghaiku

Ulan At Sinag Ng Araw: Pagmumuni Ng Isang Tulirong Isip

my head touches the pillow
as gentle rain lulls me 
and i just want to   s
                             i
                             n
                              k

into the sheets,
fold into myself,
….be forgotten,

immerse myself with the raindrops
and blend in—
    washed out,
washed away,
 
be a mere globule
in those floodwaters

and once it recedes,

let me be

--bleached
by 
sunlight

scrub     a w a y 
my darkness,

let that vast spectrum of light
assault it

let those rays
shine
No.
make that, glare--
into my outer and inner beings,
highlighting each of my flaws—


(--can’t you see?—
--tell me,
is it not amidst sunlight
that you see
all those dust particles
floating about?

air may seem invisible, 
  but it's not invincible

think. Again.

--those countless, innumerable
nano flaws)

let those rays
burn through me,
forcing melanocytes
to aggregate
into multiple nevi

--flaws manifested—

then after the Sun
has done its part,

allow pieces of me

to evaporate,
to condense,
to sublimate,,,,

I ramble,  on
    and on                 ...,and on
droning, groaning
like the hardened ground,
as, it’s, pierced, by, rain daggers, 

(but unlike it,
the petrichor 
that I release

fails
to 
invigorate me

--the reason
behind this

escapes me)

Drench,,,,, everything!!!!!!! 
!!!!! unleash,,,,, ravage !!!!!
     then 
  devastate!!!!!


simply: 

R e l. e a s e

               
all that chaos
within


then after all that,
revel in the silence

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,,,,,,,,
,,,,
,,
,

and so 
I simply lie
down
on my pondering senti.mental stool-
the overthinker, the wandering fool



Cut through me, Rain, 
--be my salve

Burn deep inside me, Sunlight,
--then heal my tatteredness






--------rain and sunlight: lingering thoughts of a loopy, sighing, mind-----

angstfeelingsintrospectionlightrainfree verse

Story of a Fallen Star


Alone In The Dressing Room: Just Before Curtain Up

Oh Yes! My career!.. It's behind me.
And the bright lights I’d worked so hard for
Now they’ve airbrushed my face
That looks so out of place
On that poster they’ve stuck to my door.

My name is no longer top billing
It’s been pushed further down out of view
By some rich kid who blogs
From his channel of vlogs
And gets paid just to like all this too.

The curtain goes up in five minutes
But I think it should really stay down
They haven’t a clue
What real actors do
On the stage in this backwater town.

I’m the oldest guy here in this cesspit
And this dressing room’s cramped and too cold
The 'luvvies' will shout
That I’ve sadly sold out
Unlike seats for this show so I’m told.

I’m supposed to walk out there all happy 
To some kids who just couldn’t care less
And keep 'doing my thing'
And get them to sing
- I’m washed out, fed up and a mess.



A Knock On The Dressing Room Door: Not Long After Curtain Down

I just wanted to say a big 'Thank You!'
The three of us had a great time
I’m not sure where to start
So I’ll speak from my heart
We loved you and your great pantomime.

My husband and I brought our ill son
And now value what laughter is worth
We saw sickness displaced
By wide smiles on his face
Despite his short time left on earth.

You brought us much joy, light and comfort
From the stage to the seats where we sat
No medicine or pills
Can cure our son's ills
But for two hours - tonight - you did that!

appreciationfamilystarupliftingrhyme

And Still She Smiles

And still she smiles  

Even in this darkness, her darkness,
when a moonless sky
preaches fear from a pulpit of shadows
pointing elongated fingers
and walls crumble 
into a rubble strewn alleyway
with graffiti issues, spray painted threats
on frantic facades dripping. . .

common sense
hides in sealed envelopes
addressed but not delivered
to neighborhoods in need
while self professed wanderers 
linger on sidewalks of 
washed out hopscotch scenes
by a raincloud that never seems to stop  

Her beauty shines
in effervescent streams
illuminating a photograph, poetry
and a kind word from quivering lips
caressing my eyes
in watercolor enchantments
and pastel pleasures,
showing me it is not what, but who. . .

for this darkness is hers,
weighted thoughts on soft shoulders
binding wrists in tethered worries,
draining dreams from casted wishes
and as regrets rip at the fabric,
folding seams in crooked stitches, 
her heart continues to outrun the pain
and still she smiles,  for me

depressionfriendshiplovefree verse

Memories of a Man

I cannot brush away tiny grains of sand
as the waves can reclaim them for the sea,
nor sweep clean my memories of a man,
as if love we had was not meant to be.

A mystery it is to those who are
questioning the moon for ruling the tide.
After years of passion, now a tug of war.
His spoils of battle are tears I can't hide.

In weak moments, I drift in reveries
of walks on this beach, of holding his hand,
time spent in laughter;  loving memories.
He threw us away, I don't understand.

Footsteps leave prints, washed out by ebb and flow.
I cry in vain, caught in love's undertow.

lost lovememorysonnet

Dirt Roads

Dirt Roads

Hello ole friend, I’ve visited you before.
What can you tell me, what news is in store?
You read like a book, imprinted and deep.
I know there are secrets, you like to keep.

Let’s see what’s gone by, and traveled your way.
Unusual footprints or tracks I might say!
Looks like ole Fred’s been here with his truck,
And after the rain, looks like he got stuck.

Small stroller wheels and a couple small feet
Pulling a wagon, that kid is so sweet.
I see some new rocks jumped up from down under
And oops there’s that pothole, new rattles asunder.

You carry the brunt of Nature’s worst weather.
I see where the flood washed out Sara’s heather.
Now here aways, fences embrace
Where wildflowers blooming, no curb to efface.

And now through the hollow, the trees all adorn
Like trumpets announcing this majestic morn.
The deer and her fawn, new prints in the snow
Your cold shoulder is icy, in minus below.

And yet dear old friend, my thoughts turn to you.
You haven’t changed much, you’re one of a few.
No concrete, no asphalt, no white lines or yellow.
No signs and no limits, you’re a polite kind of fellow.

The stories you’ve seen as each day may pass
The history made, the silence of past
Are imprinted here, upon your great crest
More than my years, you’ve stood the test.

Horses and wheels, motors and tires,
Footprints and hopscotch, puddles and miers.
You’ve seen it all from beginning of time
And still your pure beauty so easy I find.

And now I arrived the place I call home
You’ve guarded me safely when I’m all alone.
I wonder how often anyone cares
How great has your day been, traveling there?

introspectionlifenostalgiadayrhyme

Ballroom Delights

At the Parisian Ball

wrapped in finest gowns

of virgin-snow, sugar-rose

and washed-out pistachio pastels

The  hour-glass shapes

 with tied narrow waists

waltzed with gallant men

togged up in midnight-dusk tails.

Victorian ladies in frilly petticoats

and gossamer laces

swirled in delicate silks

Lifting their pretty faces

to crystal candelabras

to ceilings'baroque paintings

and to the chattering sounds

of the gathering crowds.


From the half-opened pantry door

She listened to the music

which played melodically all night.

In her simple black dress

nude stockings,white apron and cap

Solo,She danced,with the light of the moon

which was glowing so bright.

Her slender hips swayed

in a flirtatious curve

Wishing...Dreaming

to get a glimpse of his world.

Through the mirror on the wall

She saw him standing tall

As he danced with his noble mademoiselle

Through the mirror on the wall

He saw her standing small

He caught her reflection

young love and affection

Yet,He kept standing there.

She swore She could feel  it

The longing,the feeling...

It was written all over his eyes

He never got closer

His princedom can't own her

But She knows She's the one

She is that little star

which keeps falling so softly

in his cold vacant skies.

feelingsfree verse

Best Washed Out Poems

Coffee Colored Memories

Frozen Noose

Shades of My Gloom

I'Ve Loved Moons That Did Not Glow,Before

I Will Not Remember You

Artist's Brush

Tell Me Your Sercetes

Not Ready For My Close-Up

Drunken Moon

Ulan At Sinag Ng Araw: Pagmumuni Ng Isang Tulirong Isip

Story of a Fallen Star

And Still She Smiles

Memories of a Man

Dirt Roads

Ballroom Delights

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