Best Whirring Poems
My thoughts whirring
When life freezes the blood
Actions that burn in hell
A fire that burns forever
Terror - their empire of hate
Fearless, they control our destiny
Terrible destruction done by weak and miserable people
They mark their strength as animals, with deposition of urine
"Hell on Earth" these demons will inflict upon mankind
Of human destruction and evil, woe and shame
How likely we can find "The Earth's Paradise"
I look far around, but not close
We want to live in butterfly harmony
From wing to wing - of their joy and dance
29 - 05 - 2017
(unrhymed couplets)
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Categories:
whirring, angst, butterfly, conflict, earth,
Form:
Couplet
Seduce me in Black and White
You reach toward my face
and touch my lips
Tracing the slightly raised pink curve of them
gently - lightly - before
the urge to kiss me seizes the opportunity
Surrealistic sensations immortalize
as our lips seek and lock
Interchange of strange, new emotions
flow as our tongues entwine
Sun having a siesta under his canopy of clouds sends
sombre golden light slanting through the old colonial blinds
Enough for me to see ~
I want to see ~
Caressing fingers don’t stop as kisses linger
moving in seductive circular motion
Circling - tracing - moulding
twin peaks to unashamed pertness
Tantalising ripples course my body
Like the soft waving flutter of butterflies winged kisses
creating sensuous ripple upon ripple
Of pure undulating pulsating
I want to see ~
Fingers urgently move now to my navel
circling, tracing, tinkling
Like a pianist on his keys
of black and white
Are they really only two colours?
Why then do they lilt a rainbow of colours to my ears?
On my fevered skin caressing fingers script my Rhapsody
The slow whirring beat of the ancient ceiling fan
picks up a harmonic note
of a solitary flute
Wanting to add to the sultry scene
It lends its own mysterious charm
A tantalising urge to arch
I want to feel ~
Impatient now for them to move further
Fiery Desire entices curious fingers to touch
dew that cumulates dusk to dawn on my awakening rose
Exciting, enticing emotions
The aromatic rapture floats me to you
a tortuously slow feeling to satiate
Propels bodies to engage
I want to feel ~ I want to feel ~ I want to feel you
A frog croaks discordantly outdoors
Snapping me out of my reverie
Startling me out of my romantic fantasy
Eyes fall back on monochrome words of my book
I long to dwell in this erotic moment
Weaving the music into a mesmerising crescendo
However
The old wooden blades of the ceiling fan
resume back to the rhythmic measured clickity clack
The spell now broken
I reach for my phone to call my lover
He awaits my call …
Video Clip - Yanni - Romantic piano
Categories:
whirring, sensual, sexy,
Form:
Free verse
Fading porch light lures with pale glow
a circling moth, dull-beige and bare.
As starlight ties vast sky in bows,
I shy away from ruthless glare.
Night holds secrets I’ll never know
of bold ventures and starry-eyes
of love; cast alone in shadows,
I cry. The fading porch light dies.
Unwelcomed guest, the moth again
boasts of heights, flitting and spurring
my desperate cries - through open
window, lifting higher, whirring.
Moth seeks light on wings now broken
forever gone, my dreams unspoken…
Entered in Silent One's Sadness Contest, 2/9/17
Originally for Chopped II Contest, written 11/4/14
Categories:
whirring, depression, loneliness,
Form:
Sonnet
His fragile limbs in a caged body
seeking proteins from ivy drips
vulnerable fears hushed by whirring darkness
paranoia draped in wavering existence of malady
sea of sick humans hanging like leaves from willow
mitigated by prayers of angels in white coats
yet lowered pulse rate in hopeful daylight
but his sumptuous mind holds the key to freedom
in deepest slumber his twisted cage breaks free
arising hopes float in ropes of subconscious mist
his smiling shadow traces whispers of memories
he sways his brittle fingers in ecstasy
shapes of smoke growing as titans in silence
his love is a ghost that the others can't see
exploding stars in topaz lit utopia paint
charcoal brush adorning sparkling bristles of love
colourful patterns on canvas of blank memory
flashing waves entrancing visions of kisses alight
blankets of amnesia in existence but he dances
on a hustling vintage platform emerging in fog
breeze in his red shirt chasing scarlet sunsets
he boards a crimson wagon longing for a journey
holding roses for Aphrodite in the land of swans
simmering in flashes of blooming glitters.
Rising dawn clicks the buttons in his mind
blank memories, ivy drips lock him away
in a caged body his fragile limbs rest
nobody knows he visits a soothing paradise
fog curls under his pillow in deep oceans
till slithering hazy sapphire nights arrive
July 20, 2020
Delirium Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
~Premiere Contest Winner: 1st Place
Categories:
whirring, analogy, symbolism,
Form:
Free verse
In-flight
In pheromone
Honeysuckle perfume
Insect antennae knot freshly
bouquet.
In breeze
I feel your breath
rustle shiny reeds
of my stints' hapless hinterland
you learn.
A vest
of velveteen
gleaming wings that trembled
Turn to a whirring glint beneath
full moon.
Categories:
whirring, analogy, appreciation, flower,
Form:
Cinquain
It was really a simple thing
Four chains holding a large plank
Suspended from the ceiling
A big blue swing
Summer at its peak
Heat touching 45 degrees
Cousins all crammed up
On a large blue swing
Listening to granny’s stories
The distant fan slowly whirring
Laughing and giggling at nothing
On a large blue swing
Plate in hand my brother would sit at its end
Pretending to drive an airplane
Never knew planes did not have steering
On the large blue swing
Sometimes when no one was around
I’d sit on it with outstretched hands
Barely touching both its ends yet feeling like a queen
On a large blue swing
With my favourite cousin sometimes I’d sit
Munching hot salted peanuts
Pouring out our deepest secrets
On a large blue swing
At noon in granny’s lap I’d lie
And listen to her lullaby
Soon asleep, without a worry in life
On a large blue swing
Like the swing her hopes never ran high
She spoke to me of days gone by
Looking beautiful, despite a toothless smile
On a large blue swing.
Today it is no more there
With grandma it slowly passed away
But memories still remain
On the large blue swing.
Categories:
whirring, childhoodblue, blue, cousin, ,
Form:
Free verse
Head down
The old woman sews
A dress
Nimble fingers
Marking each stitch
The whirring of machines
Whirling and whirling
Round and round
Threading memories
Of another time
Reminding her
Of a night
Long ago
When she was afraid
To speak to a boy
Sitting next to her.
As her busy fingers work
She remembers more
Of that summer night
A blue cotton dress
With tiny ribbons
Lace curtains gently
Pulled by a breeze
Drifted out through opaque windows
While musicians played a rhythm
Of their own
And shadows pranced
On empty walls.
Waiting that night
She wondered
Why no one
Asked
Her to dance.
Old memories
Glide by
On silver sails
And today?...
She knows that today is now.
And yesterday was yesterday
Finished with her work
She catches her breathe,
Straightens her hair,
And turns off the lights.
Pausing to look back
Into the darkened room
Shadows return her glance
With a gaping stare
Adjusting to the darkness
She begins to recognize
Familiar shapes taking form
Satisfied that all will be the same
When she returns
She closes the door.
Going outside
She holds onto her purse
Waiting
For a traffic light
That has already
Changed
A smile crosses her face
As she remembers
When the boy
Became her husband
Children were born.
And the years went by
In a brown bag
Neatly folded in two
Is a blue chiffon dress
Almost like the one
She wore years ago
Only this one
Is for her granddaughter
Impatient for no reason
To go nowhere
The crowd pushes forward
But the old woman lingers
On the corner
Savoring the moment
Glad of memories
As a busy world saunters by.
Categories:
whirring, hopewoman, old, blue, old,
Form:
Narrative
Bill and Blanche set off, to the 'Yorkshire Show' they did go
T'was a yearly trip, and they would always show.
Each time Bill says to Blanche ‘On that elicopter I’d like to ride.’
Blanche always replied’ but it's twenty quid Bill’ and then she and Bill sighed.
'Twenty quid is twenty quid Bill, you always told me that'
‘Tha’s right me old love,’ and he’d give his wallet a pat.
The next year Bill looked, at the elicopter, and he tried once more
‘I’m seventy-five Blanche, there not much time left for me to soar.’
‘Bill, it’s twenty quid, and twenty quid is twenty quid.
So we’ll not go on the elicopter ride, of that idea you must get rid.’
Bill looked at the elicopter and agreed twenty quid was twenty quid
Of that one idea though, he could never really get rid.
Bill was desperate to ride on that elicopter whirring thing
The pilot overheard the couple, and then he made Bill’s heart sing.
I’ll take you on board, but not one word must you say
If you keep TOTALLY quiet, not one pound or penny will you pay.
Bill and Blanche climbed on board ,for the ride of their life
Not one word did Bill utter, nor his terrified wife.
The pilot looped the loop, he dived and twisted and turned
Not one word did the pilot hear, yet even his stomach churned.
He landed and spoke to Bill and he said ‘I am impressed’
I twisted and I turned and I really tried my best.
Bill said to the pilot ‘Well I nearly gave in lad, and I nearly spoke’
‘Twas when the wife fell out, but you know us Yorkshire folk.’
I watched her spiral down; I nearly shouted, but thought that’s absurd
‘And tha knows twenty quid is twenty quid lad, and you said NOT one word.’
©~GG~17/11/2012
Taken from a joke sent to me by Jack Horne and continuing the theme Harry uses of Yorkshire Humour.
Quid Slang name for pound sterling
Yorkshire folk drop their 'h's
Categories:
whirring, funny, me, me, time,
Form:
Couplet
Dear dragonfly, you hover from flower to flower
But there is one which you always seem to linger on
When the world stops and time stays at the magic hour
You spread your golden iridescent wings chiffon
To catch the welcoming smile of dawn
Royal rays filtering through transparent cells
Landing on the little place where a fairy dwells
Seeking the one true taste that will give him power
Sweet essence melting sunshine beams upon
Striking bells bewitching beauty develops showers
Sparkling the day creeping spells spawn
Fountain of forever young whistles a robin's song
Each an echo inside warmly touches shell
Landing on the little place where a fairy dwells
Lord of the skies mesmerizing regal high towers
Into the fair realm rainbows touch upon
Opening a doorway into the deepest bowels
Another world one kingdom awakens sighing yawns
Eyes within a spirit conquering glances breaths of light shone
Under the hawthorn blossoms enchanting smells
Landing on the little place where a fairy dwells
Wing-whirring basking in the sun to empower
The little shy being standing in the shade beyond
Gazing upwards at the motion camouflage in wonder
Darting across visions softly skimming over the pond
Kissing a twig gradually sprouting a magical bond
Synchronized heart wings beating under one's spell
Landing on the little place where a fairy dwells
a co written piece by liam mc daid and angeline lim
Categories:
whirring, beautiful, beauty, dream, fairy,
Form:
Ballade
It was the Main Street hangout for the teenagers of its day.
For a nickel they could dream as they heard the jukebox play!
Wispy white metal chairs surrounded tables topped with glass.
(There were secluded booths where lads could woo their lass!)
From the tin covered ceiling hung a fan with its whirring blade,
And arrayed along the soda fountain were the tools of the trade.
Symmetric white and black tiles covered the spotless floor.
A gleaming steel and marble counter completed its bright decor!
Presiding over all was a guy oddly named the "soda jerk."
Clad in impeccable white, he took great pride in his work.
He was a wizard at his craft and when his sorcery was done,
He'd whipped up a heavenly treat that couldn't be outdone!
A Hamilton mixer, scoops and ladles were the tools of his trade.
In a trice he'd make a root beer float or some tasty lemonade,
Hot fudge sundae, banana split, soda or strawberry shake,
Cherry coke or any such concoction you'd ask him to make!
The "soda jerk" did his duties with consummate skill and grace,
Always with a ready quip and a contented smile upon his face.
Fast food joints or drive-ins today do not have that elegant flair,
That yesteryear's soda fountains and ice cream parlors had to share!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
whirring, nostalgia
Form:
Rhyme
When I was a child and my dreams were of gold
I always believed everything I was told,
my faith was implicit, my innocence pure
and magic existed, of that I was sure.
My old uncle Arthur was always in bed
his twinkling eyes sunken into his head,
he told me his stories of dragons and elves
that lived in the books on his library shelves.
On the table that stood at the foot of his bed
was an old leather box coloured purple and red,
and the lid was embroidered in threads of maroon
with the soft shining face of the man in the moon.
I asked him to show me what rested inside
and he said " Press the button, and open it wide!",
then up from the box with a deep whirring sigh
rose a magic mechanical gold butterfly.
It fluttered its wings as it gently spun round
Its beauty serene in the absence of sound,
and I was entranced by its magical flight
as it bathed in the flame of the candle's soft light.
As I lay in my bed with my head in a dream
I still could imagine the butterfly's gleam,
so I made up my mind to go back the next day
to watch the gold butterfly flutter and play.
But when I got there, the old house was in gloom
my old uncle Arthur was gone from his room,
and even though mother had tried to explain
I never did see uncle Arthur again.
That night I slept soundly, in dreams of delight
at the dawn I awoke to the morning's first light,
and there on the desk, by the side of my bed
was an old leather box coloured purple and red...
Categories:
whirring, death, family, children, inspirational,
Form:
Through the opened orifice
of humanities consciousness,
the whirling, whirring, rush of rain;
tumults round the asphalts plane.
Spritzing, spreading, shrieking, zing…
the staccato sounds of wet spring;
the tinkling chimes, the brass banter
the clop of clogs, children canter.
All the sizzle of an oiled pan.
All the sparkle of dew on land.
All pummeled, a peonies pain,
the soundless swirl petals, drain.
Categories:
whirring, nature
Form:
Quatrain
Purple hues beam softly through edge of night
casting shadows between mystical light
forests spy slivers of moonbeams below
dreaming of rainbows as night owls hoot low.
Violet mists rise past low setting sun
hovering over the long river run
darkness now beckons young bats to take flight
stirring and whirring over edge of night.
Chorus of crickets crescendo so high
coyotes howl under new starlit skies
wailing beneath an iridescent moon
while whippoorwill croons a sad, forlorn tune.
Purple magic’s captivating delights
hidden wonders between the edge of night.
Written on 1/16/2019
Categories:
whirring, magic, nature, night,
Form:
Sonnet
"Two doves in white flying, feathers glow beneath the morning rainbow colors"
Written by: Charles Messina
Colors in the sky
arched in a bow, red, green, blue....
Whirring of doves' wings
A reminder of God's love
Lasting promises above
Contest: Colors In The Sky
Sponsor: Mystic Rose
Date written: 12/07/2022
Genesis: 9:16
Categories:
whirring, imagination,
Form:
Tanka
I got arrested!... further developments await...
By gravity said law
linkedin with physics
stating that a body at rest
will remain thus unless otherwise
acted upon by an external force,
hence I cannot wrest motion
from inert human matter
regarding nearly lifeless entity
concerning how aye barely breathe
heavily weighed down
with lugubriousness easily crushing
this seventy two inch
rusty, cowardly, creaky...
complex corporeal edifice,
thus resigning myself
watching flight of bumblebee
hopscotching from one
clover plant to another
wondrous winged warrior
unphased by human "rat race"
higglety pigglety,
pell mell, helter skelter,
how grand living off the grid
venerating native flora and fauna
simply engrossed with daily tasks
solely attending
basic inalienable rights
life, liberty, pursuit of happiness
keeping stereotypical roles intact
males species pact schedule
hunting in tandem
with brotherly comrades
females tending hearth and home
tendering, safeguarding, nesting...
homeschooling offspring
supervising fledgling,
the latter gingerly venturing
tentatively into parts unknown
unfamiliar territory brimming
trained instincts detect danger,
nonetheless plod along
blueprinted genetically
inherent migratory paths
guides where uncertainty looms
within wide whirring web
invoking, feigning camouflage,
or mimicking ("FAKE")
simulating another organism.
Categories:
whirring, confidence, conflict, cry, endurance,
Form:
Dramatic Verse