Best Whirling Poems
The sky becomes synonymous with grey,
signifying a storm is on its way.
And a sullied sun swiftly slips away;
allowing shadows to overcome day,
while clouds release a downpour straightaway.
Thunder echoes across purple-bruised skies,
as lightning causes drops to vaporize.
And ebony descends to claim its prize
while the whirling winds wail and Nature cries.
The treetops are tossed and swayed by each gust
as brisk breezes suddenly feel robust:
arriving swiftly; no time to adjust.
Broken by a murmured mantra of sound,
silence acquiesces as raindrops pound.
And pellets of ice get viciously hurled!
Everything falls in scattered disarray,
when twisters start to materialize.
Hail and rain meld into an icy crust
that turns the streets into a battleground
and neighborhoods into a netherworld.
Twirling, whirling, swirling into myself
I listen to my ready soul
I take blank canvas off a shelf
Twirling, whirling, swirling into myself
My muse becomes my happy elf.
As I begin, I feel whole
Twirling, whirling, swirling into myself
I listen to my ready soul
I stepped into a world of pinks, reds, yellow, and purple.
Bee’s, butterflies, and hummingbirds flying free!
Long flowing stems swaying, in a soft summer breeze.
An aroma, fresh cut hay, teasing my nose!
Smiling, I recall that day… not so long ago.
Closing my eyes, I inhale a welcomed scent.
Looking up with dark green eyes -
I feel my Grandmothers smile warm my face.
Calloused finger grasping my small hand.
Pointing, she drew my eye to a small delicate thing.
Pink wings and tiny feelers, swaying in the wind!
She bent slowly, whispering, in my eager ear,
“It’s a Whirling Butterfly”
She said, with a giggle and a sigh.
Time passes quickly, like rushing waters of a fall.
In my garden now, pinks, reds, purple and yellows.
Bee’s, butterflies, and hummingbirds fly free.
Delicate stems, dancing, to music, of an evening breeze.
Movements, drawing me, to a special place.
Pointing, I show my Granddaughter the prize!
Excited, she looks at me with her big blue eyes.
I smile, tenderly at the soft red curls
sofly lying around her sweet little face.
Tears swell, in a dusty throat,
as she grasps my calloused finger.
She spies the pink wings, the yellow feelers,
swaying in the wind.
Whispering, “ It’s a Whirling Butterfly ”
I almost cry! With a giggle, and a sigh.
Gaining, by loosing
dancing to the mystic tune
the whirling dervish
Beautiful scenery, rolling hills with craggy cliffs adorned with winter scrub clinging to impossible places. Narrow winding roads, leading somewhere, maybe nowhere, finding out when we get there. Rounding a bend just enjoying the scene, finding an eyesore almost obscene. In the ground in front, towering high a plague of of wind turbines I did espy.Not the Quixotic or Dutch that are nice. These huge monstrosities seem to crowd the very sky, killing birds by the score with their whirling wings. The race is on to harness the wind for soon the earth will cease to give up its treasure just so we can enjoy our leisure. Here rivers do not flow for most of the year and our island needs power but not nuclear. So the turbines have come to march over the mountains like a white army of whirling dervishers that sadly will be the future, unless they can harness the suns free power much better.Time and nature will tell, if only we let her.
Letting my body perfectly free
As anonymous star in the sky’s sea
While whirling, I closed my eyes
Lit the Holy Candle inside
As light as an air
When losing my existence
As I am a wind
Or a particle of sand
Or a Dandelion seed flying in the air
In a Sufi (mystical) flight
I am a soul in luminous Twilight
The whole Universe is echoing
With soulful melodies
With the Zikr (recitation) of (Allah) God
And with the chanting poetry
In the praise of Prophet Mohammad (P.B.U.H)
With sweet melodious tunes
Like a beautiful mosaic…
Sounds and whirling waves
Flowing together in harmony
Like a singing nightingale
OR clinking of the bells
Like rustles of leaves
OR cataract sounds
Like splashing sounds of water in the rain
When they strike the window pane
Velvet soft as warm breeze
Quite spontaneous like flowing streams
Sublime flashes of spiritualism
Sparkles & scintillates every moment
The ecstasy is growing wider and wider
The increasing gentle turns
Becomes dynamic
Whirling whirlpool is getting deeper and deeper
As a well
My meta-physical journey is on extreme
In a moment in universe
In a moment in the sea
Where seeking spiritual connections
The connections.....
Now seems very close
Very close
The stage of my purification is beginning
Sacred feelings and emotions
Of the Divine Love of God
Enlightens my heart and soul
Where no more worldly greed
No worries, no screams
The way is direct and clear indeed
Just me and my Allah, nothing more I need.
Poetess S. Nadia Azam Shah Bukhari.
O withered garden,
your dazzle is decaying;
And leaves are falling,
burnt orange and yellow drop,
drifting, twirling and whirling.
______________________
September 5, 2014
Poetry/Tanka/Autumn Whirling
Copyright Protected, ID 09-597-659-05
All Rights Reserved, 2014, Constance La France
Entered into the Premier contest, Autumn Colors,
sponsor, Francine Roberts, Judged 09/2014
Third Place
In the twentieth year on the 11th day of the first month
I saw a vision and the skies open up before me
As I stood facing the south direction the Sun began to dance
In colors of light
The Sun moved to the right and then the Sun moved to the left
The Sun moved higher in the sky and then the Sun moved lower in the sky
As the dancing continue pastel lights of pink, green, orange and blues
Formed the shapes of wings below the Sun like a heart held in someone’s hands
The wings around the Sun gyrated like propellers hoisting up and then lowering the Sun
The soft light colors invented the first circle around the entire orbit of the Sun in the order of clockwise
In the opposite direction of the clock a second circle of the same soft gentle lights developed on the outer portion of the first circle around the Sun in effect what I saw was a wheel within a wheel
As the wheel within a wheel spun and stop and spun again the beautiful lights and colors grew dimmer and brighter
In Ezekiel's version of the spinning wheel he saw four cherubims with four faces: a lion, an ox, an eagle and a man
But in my vision a cherubim had the face and strength of a lion who held the baby Jesus in swaddling clothes
My cherubim then throw the baby against the temple of the Holy of Holies because Jesus second coming will not be as a man but as Judah the King of King and Leo The Lionhearted
The cherubim looked at me with fire in his eyes and then pointed me to the East and to the rising Sun in the Springtime and spoke of the Twin Gemini Gates
And he said remember your time in the garden and do not miss it again
As the wheel in the wheel become one wheel and the colors grew harder to see and the wings under the Sun evaporated into the thin air and all returned to normal
I said I must remember..
On the twentieth year of the 11th day of the first month
I saw a vision and the skies open up before me
Spiraling snowflakes.
Dance ballerina duet.
Pas de deux descant.
Gazing upon the image of the earth from space,
I see a round mosaic sphere of an array of colors,
almost magical, so beautiful and alluring,
made up of blue, white, green, and earth tone hues.
While mortals stand upon the earth and look up at the sky.
Royal Blue Ocean, home of billions of creatures,
mysteries it hides in its depth.
Golden skies for a moment,
before I know it, it’s raining.
Since pink rain lilies burst into bloom after it rains,
a bouquet for my room I can pick
from a garden of blossoms of many colors.
Crystalline flakes falling across the darkened sky,
laying a white blanket across the land.
Comfort around a blazing fire in the hearth,
a cup of hot chocolate to warm the cold limbs.
8/26/2017
I woke up one gray and melancholy morning
munching oatmeal and buttered toast, alone
same as yesterday, last week and maybe tomorrow
when I saw a whirling wonder flying down the road.
It whirled outside my windowpane
it whirled from head to toe
it whirled with neon pinks and greens
it whirled and twirled and flowed!
I saw a bicycle with watermelon wonder wheels
as it rode in tumbling tandem down the road
and on it sat a generous, plump lady ballerina
wearing bright red lipstick, holding a bright red rose.
She waved at me and smiled, as I gawked at her, alone
her hair flew wildly behind her, as she pedaled down the road
the clouds suddenly parted, and as the morning sun shone
joy filled my eyes, to see that watermelon wheel rider
whirling down the road.
Satin wisps twirling
Blue transparent dreams swirling
Grey dank haze shrouding
The revolution of stars in the galaxy
Resembles the whirling of dreams in your heart
The unknown part of the galaxy
Symbolizes the unachievable dreams in your heart
The galaxy is the future base of mankind
And your dreams are your future life goals
The galaxy in the dark is to be conquered one day
And your dreams in the unpredictable futue are to be fulfilled one day
The galaxy is created by God
And your dreams are planned by you
Bright the galaxy bright the dreams
The galaxy fills the space with twinkling stars
And the dreams will fill your life with thrilling hopes
Maybe you'll not be alone in this life struggle
As the galaxy gifted by god
Resembling man's hopes and dreams
Is always above your head
And the dreams in your heart
Will always shine
Like the galaxy above your head
The bedlam lifts if only for a while;
a brief but needed calm falls on the house
when she departs for school aboard the bus.
Though trying hard to suppress overt smiles,
I grin in the direction of my spouse,
for any more would be superfluous.
But storms can interrupt our best laid plans
and so it seems our calm was but an eye;
no sooner had we contemplated peace,
than fires gave way to cast iron frying pans:
a chance that funnel clouds could fill the sky
and pressures here at home might soon increase.
Who is this damned administrative fool
who brought it on himself to close the school?
—————
A Brisbane Sonnet: abcabc defdef gg
Whirling by, munching away at the worn-garnet shingles, chopping trees with its transparent rope and hair-raising dynamism, and flushing your garish memories and spotless portraits down the toilet, sucking them away, fracturing and splintering your heart and soul, for they mean the world to you, they turn the lights on in your life.
Whirling by, facility and adroitness allow you to tiptoe across the stage, do fluent splits, and run the show, for you are conducting a harlequin infused performance and putting on a clinic, for your soul burns brighter, your eyes twinkle extra-scintillatingly, and your hair glows clearer than a luminescent firefly. Your twirling and twisting viciously, like a ballerina, you convey waves of happiness with your blinding smile.
Whirling by, your feelings have gone down the gutter, sank into the sticky, grungy mud, into a funereally gloomy cave infested by wolffish spiders. You are traipsing across an ice-bound lake, skating on an attenuated layer of frozen liquid, dereliction gripping you like the frost bluing your lips, for you are carelessly cracking the black ice, for you've been neglected by your closest peers and shunned by your insensitive parents, and you are just waiting to burst and fracture, for your a ticking time bomb, waiting to burst and explode, spray shrapnel around, slicing and dicing others that care deeply for you, for ending your life doesn't just close the blinds, barricade the doors, and stain the floors with blood for you, everyone who prays for your happiness also cries for your death, for a tsunami doesn't just affect the coastal city, it also affect millions of others that check the news and see the devastation that has been wrung.