Best Watcher Poems
I watched a weeping willow
Dancing with a summer breeze
A timeless dance of lovers
They'd rehearsed for centuries
The zephyr would excite her
With his warm southwesterlies
She'd gently sway both to and fro
So playfully she'd tease
Her intermittent whispers
And a rustle of her leaves
Oft times would leave him breathless
Their intensity would ease
I felt my heartbeat quicken
As I rose from on my knees
Then quietly, just like I came
Slipped back into the trees.
See the people watcher
Still as a mantis
Endless ambient sounds, unidentifiable
Does not prevent his gaze
He studies her eyes; her smile
And undresses her mind
The watcher finds himself
Transfigured
Her thoughts are not easily uncovered
A coffin, sealed; undefiled
The watcher will only find him,
Looking out as he looks in
Watcher
from the barren trees of winter
to the golden warmth of autumn leaves
I am but a forlorn watcher
gazing through a window
afraid to venture out
yet allowing myself to imagine
nature’s beauty
be they lonely country roads
or cities bustling with people
an agoraphobic woman, I retreat from both
participation eludes me
as I stare at the world outside
wary of mingling with nature or society
still dreaming of how my life might change
if I could but open the door
but I remain a watcher
trapped inside my home
waiting for an invitation
from a friendly stranger
who will open his arms to me
*Written May 14, 2014
He sat in his living room
And cast an apprehensive look
At the window
Pounded by the fury
Of the storm outside
The elements had gone mad
An unexpected storm
Had blown in
Out of nowhere
He didn't like storms
They reminded him of feeling unsafe
Even though he was being held by his mother
Oh, she tried to comfort him
When the thunder crashed
And the lightening flashed
She’d put on a brave face
And she'd hold him near
But he could feel her body trembling
And his hair getting wet from her tears
Only when he was older
Did he truly understand
The depth of her irrational fears
Her unstable mind
The storms reminded him
Of the storms within her
That had raged furiously
With no letting up
Until they’d found her
Sprawled on the bed
The empty sleeping pill container
A paper weight for her note
“Forgive me…I can’t stand the storms anymore”
He walked to his window
And peered out
He took a second look
There was a young woman
Battling the elements
Her raincoat whipping about
in the gusty wind
Her long black hair
Plastered to her face and shoulders
Soaked by the rain
that her umbrella was unable to keep out
Who would be crazy enough
To be out in this weather?
Her books scattered
And as she bent to pick them up
She slipped and fell
The umbrella blew away
And she was left
A heap on the road
In the grips of the storm
He wanted to help
He wanted to go out there
To get her to shelter
But he was furious
How crazy was she to be in that hopeless mess?
Didn't she know better?
He saw her struggle to get up
Damn…he’d have to go help her
He rushed out of the house
Running to where she lay
Before he could reach her
A car pulled up and a young man bounced out...
Collecting all her scattered things
With one one quick motion
He then scooped her up into his arms
And rushed her to the car
He stood there in the pouring rain
As they drove away
The lighting forked in the horizon
The thunder crashed and boomed
He turned his face up to the sky
The dead thing in him moved, took a breath
As the pain and hurt washed away with the rain
He had stepped into the storm
And for the first time
In many a year
He felt truly alive.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Watcher ...
he wandered the mists
the high fells of Scottish countryside
wrapped in robes of their own wan light
aglow like the full of the moon
and aback a white Arabian stallion.
He commanded the brume and twilight shivers
and could cleave sunlight with his sword
turning noon to midnight in a swipe
filling the fells with dreamy fog
that, tales say, was the essence of enchantment
transforming the deepest darkness
to a glistening, pearly wonderland
where starlight suffused everything and everyone
and the grandest of dreams were realized
by breathing that glimmering haze
waves of joyous euphoria saturating your being
filling your soul with confidence and care
and drowning the spirit with happiness and love
until nothing mattered but that light ...
not even the realization that your life was over
and your soul was now happily ...
horridly ...
His.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Strand Completely New 22, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
I watched as I walked to the door
I watched you send Your son away to the shore
I watched as you cheated on us
Turned away threw me under the bus
I watched it all turn out for you
In spite of the evil you do
I watched while I'm falling apart
As you slowly walked over my heart
I watched while you move in with him
Worry free and careless once again
I watched again and I'm amazed
No regrets, no guilt had you phased
I've been watching you now for a while
My heart aches and I no longer smile
For relief from this torture I long
And I just could not seem to move on
I watched and I watched while I grieve
Over us I just cannot believe
I watched with my teary eyes sore
So I'm not gonna watch anymore
They could be strangers or maybe not
mind locked to their own moment
embraced by feelings and thoughts
their bodies intertwined - unaware
that a watcher is looming in the air
Breathing, watching taking it all in
secretly i see u, U dont see me
alive in the mind, senses go wild
sensual, erotic its intoxicating
Only those who seek me out
beyond, will see what i see
do u dare to be there - make me aware
or let me just be or join in with me
secretly the watcher now being watched
A fantasy in motion raw and exposed
pleasure given and pleasure taken
subtle and stealth now one becomes two
voyeurs seeking out their pleasure
So you see me and now i see you
intense, ravenous, desiring it all
we play it out and so much more
relinquishing inhibitions down to the core
A desire held so secret, buried and raw
never rising to the surface for public thought
a fantasy a dream to one day bring true
something to experience - maybe with you
Ghostly presence seen nightly
When lighthouse illumes brightly
Fishermen claim to see her
Confounded old tars concur
Her lover swallowed at sea
by fierce waves, old tars agree
Lighthouse beam, sailors concur
Was gone, not even a blur
March 15, 2019
For Charlie’s Jueju-Qijue With A Twist Contest
Here comes the Watcher heading toward the hemlock
Watching the world, becomes his wealth,
toward which he tails around you, to every place, today and tomorrow.
When The Watcher walks, time slows down
Bearing his name, watches die out.
For The Watcher walks forward, caring less about the weather, waiting
for your fate to take place.
People like you and me, prepare for the worst, peeping along the post down home,
where the watch of the night, nears around and touches neat and soft
the rim of your face, right becomes night, and vacations along the rim down low.
I guard … Ready
Looking at him sleeping
The night-start kiss keeps on!
The watcher sees the two sides clash,
A certain feel of conscious thought,
Yet sets things free in either dash;
No need to will or order plot.
When all is still, and two sides rest,
Watcher feels truth in simple terms,
Watch conscious fill attend the quest;
Stillness hurls proof to speed the germ.
The watcher knows what outcomes bring,
Allows the surge of variant streams,
Yet sees the show in causal fling;
No need to merge in either dream.
When silence comes to lift the dance,
Watcher knows when to swirl and twirl,
Watch grace now sum beyond mere chance;
Stillness ascends to heal the world.
The watcher sights the path and quest,
A precious now frames the sure road,
Yet both sides fight with primal fest;
No need somehow to judge or load.
When joy and play ignite fond cheer,
Watcher finds way through ecstasy,
Watch middle way inspire most clear;
Stillness funds stay with harmony.
The watcher sees beyond two sides,
A special glow when judgement ends,
Yet soul sets free beyond the tides;
The watcher knows what ego trends.
When faith and hope find love on earth,
Watcher sees tact in wondrous whole,
Watch joy flood scope in grand re-birth;
Stillness primes fact in heart and soul.
Leon Enriquez
27 February 2015
Singapore
The Watcher
The Watcher
When the seventeen men neared the end of the bridge only one remained in
sight all the others were lost in the shadow from the moonlight. He was dressed
in tattered cloth; homespun gray, and eaten by the moth of strang decay
“No livery”, He cried “no making strides in death” “my life has ended on this
bridge?”
There is a plaque in place to mark this day it says on
The Plaque
Friday June 13, 1864 PFC Dreardon Age 14 was marking time in a prisoner
exchange at BENTON creek when he was shot by Federal Forces. The miniball
penetrated his left sleeve and took off his arm. He bled to death.
His body was torn and bleeding so forlorn the tatters of his homespun sleeve
stayed hung upon his stump of arm there.
War is something no one cares for Mr. Sherman.
MOFW 1964, June 13 Commerative
The watcher was on the water making footprints on the surface when the Federal
Forces under Sherwood marched into the History. He seldom interferes with
history but makes the markers seem to be the truth. He saw the miniball tear off
the soldiers sleeve the man had been a prisoner just released this crime is not
unpunished the man that pulled the trigger is lying in the river at the Watchers
feet. The Watcher broke his prime directive and almost gleefully erected the
YANKEE soldier in the mud.
A Watcher is no more A Watcher for when he acted he lost his power over water
and he stands upon the battlements no longer but He is tearless in his vigil of
the bridge.
Every Friday on the 13th of the Month of JUNE of every year that has its ending in
a FOUR, he gives a shudder of relief certain that his judgment has not been
ignored.
The rebel soldier gives a rebel yell and leaves the bridge.
The Yankee minion that has shot him just turns over once and lies back in the
mud. For this is judgment.
The Watcher roars.
The Watcher Above
I thought no one had heard what I said.
‘But,’ said my mother, ‘no dear,
There is a man above who listens and sees,
For he watches his children always.'
I thought no one had seen what I did to my fellow men.
‘No dear,’ said my mother.
'God above watches you all the time,
And he will repay.'
I thought I had cleverly deflated the people I despised.
‘No dear,’ said my mother; ‘you were not created to judge;
That is the job of the maker of all creation.
He knows to handle the wicked and the good.’
I thought my attendance at church
Assured me of the favour of all.
‘No dear,’ said my mother, ‘you may fool the world,
But the watcher above knows your inner most thoughts,
And you will get your just rewards.'
as long as I see the sky and rainbow arcs, I’m very much alive
"The Watcher"
You said, “Never me...”
I said, “Saltwater stings, when cuts slashed deep are bled”.
Somewhere sharks are circling
Swimming black eyes numb
Do sharks have souls?
The crowd cried, “None”.
You said, “Honey, life’s so sweet”.
I said, “Do you think?”
Somewhere, honesty lives in a place,
It’s called, “Not So Neat”.
Through the shallow tidal pools of
saltwater tears, run cracked lives and bare feet
on the bloody shores of
“Betrayal, Life Incomplete”
You said, “Trust me, I’ll catch you when you fall”
I looked in your eyes and said, “Throw the other monkeys that slippery ball”.
The Watcher signed in to watch
The Warrior signed out to blot
spinning on a wheel
cat watches
mouse
life seen through steely bars invisible
a road unsealed
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
Suspirium/Thom Yorke
https://youtu.be/BTZl9KMjbrU
Lyrics:
https://genius.com/Thom-yorke-suspirium-lyrics
"A tear in my brain
Allows the voices in
They wanna push you off the path
With their frequency wires"
The Deep
https://youtu.be/lF8MRSJrDnw