Best Whitened Poems
Marred and minced remnants pile high in a storm’s swarm
Yesterdays, hardened-soft, surface where sea’s warm…
Flotsam found, lays tales around, in frayed traces
Another shattered shell whimpers of graces
vying with the sea-swept sands: gloss embossed fades…
Ocean’s dead! These are castaways of Hades,
rid of depth, stranded upon the dry shallow
Interred where the sun bleaches out the shadows
till whitened ivory fills cavern’s echo:
enmeshed lime, crunching upon errors callow
Jazz died - June’s sun sank into august abyss…
Undertow currents ceased their torments of bliss
Nipped life, silenced like frothing foam vacuum-sealed,
kept smothered in an opaque ocean congealed…
Yard junked, Neptune’s home’s now a derelict mess
and yet he clings to the crap amassed, crownless
Right always, up to the end --------- that no return.
Death will erase the un-sunk bones when they burn
(10/3/2019: '90 Sea Ray DA 350; Discovery Park; ‘my favorite junkyard’)
I wrote the word
then—
lifted
it
from the page
and something
(not silence)
opened underneath
a small dark root
taking hold
where the word
had been
not grief
no—
not yet
only the hush
after
a name loosens
from the mouth
and does not return
The words I buried
did not die
they turned
pale
listening
whitened underground
drinking—
slowly—
the ink
from my crossed-out lines
feeding
on refusal
on absence
until
the page
itself
begins
to open
after midnight
not with speech
never speech
but with petals
insistently
pressed
pressing
against the paper
from
the other side
Though wrinkled veins line years on drooping arms
I'll hold all springtime's traces of young vows,
To care for you through life’s devoted charms
And rouse our crowning milestones , joy endows
While tint of whitened hair enchants my heart--
That passing unto seasons now grows old,
Upon this dream's compass we have to part.
So sing dear one, our floral notes behold
As I guard you through one last winter rain,
Until once more sweet memories grip us
To cuddle laughter's beat and tunes again;
When petals fly with traces of caress.
…Before leaves of demise call us to rest;
We’ll share night's end upon heaven’s bequest.
-------------------
RHYMED, METERED poem Contest
Sponsor: Janice Canerdy 5/6/2017
Checked www.howmanysyllables.com
-----------
The thought of life supreme
in a land of my dreams
in a place where beauty dwells
among the flowing water streams
Switzerland would be that dream
among the mountains so majestic
there the Alps are the tops
this indeed is simply fantastic
Watching the cows ring their bells
walking in the green pastureland
where the air is so fresh so cool
feeling thinking this is grand
Walking in the snow during winter
skiing down many a whitened slope
with the sun baking on your back
this was what you used to hope
Life is made of visions and dreams
catching a glimpse of what could be
transporting oneself to another world
there wonders are all to see!
The pen
The pen that hoards ten thousand words,
seeks only guiding hand
To spill it’s blood on virgin page,
like entrails in the sand
For thus the toil, at authors whim,
drives quill to strive for gain
That readers eye, or listening heart,
might understand the pain
The arteries of heartsblood,
splashed upon those whitened fields
Bear wounds and scars of battles fought,
where wiser heart would yield
No truce sought, nor quarter begged,
the pen unlocks the word
That Wielded in the skilful hand,
cuts cleaner than the sword
For wiser heads and stronger minds,
have yielded to the might
That bursts in fountains from the heart,
and bleeds with words of light.
From whitened trees, leaves are leaving
Releasing fall, color flutters
Upon the wind's icy mutters
With a ruby river weaving
Homage to a season's grieving
10/20/23
lost in a winter dream~
beneath the indigo sky
the melancholic music soars
echoing from distant shores
making dainty daffodils dance
in the bleak starlit eve.
snowflakes whitened my hair
as I chase the evening glow
searching where the melodies flow
and there I find you
under the moonlight shadow
singing my old favourite song
while stardust sprinkles in my palms
as I run to you.
20 February 2021
Notes: While listening to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21 - Andante.
All Yours( Feb 19) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Briand Strand
1st place
Painting: 'Ophelia'
Artist: John Everett Millais
John Millais, today I pose, frozen, just for you -
a blank canvas, your lonely, soul-saddened muse.
Love me with the iridescence of your inspiration.
I am whoever they want me to be -
Beata Beatrix to Dante Rossetti.
But to you I am Ophelia, and we are alone.
Allurement to your compulsion to create and paint,
ever patient, never late, though this ice-shimmery water
slices my nicety, has me tingling hypothermic-faint.
I breathe sleepy, big-bloomed poppies;
purple panicles glitter in my lungs like starburst pinnacles.
Water-mirror reflects back crystalline light, fern-feathered pool.
The flame-copper fronds of my hair
unfurl in your fantasy; my beauty bends like a willow
to softly kiss your canvas, your brush caresses my curves.
I hope your fame remembers my reality
and how my vision camera-caught your creativity.
On glacial, arctic wastes of my wasted mind, blanked by laudanum,
whitened by nauseous opium, colour-clouds burst,
water lilies open starry pink hands in a pool of jewels.
This cold clutch is finally unclenching.
My stillborn child, that crib-cooled one,
light-cradled, thaws the bone-biting chill,
reclaims me from this dream-drowned prismatic pool.
8 July 26
Slowly I knock on your invisible door.
Listening for your cold heart and I wait
The silence comforts me and your heart is asleep
I pick up the invisible glass of your blood
It is drunk slowly as I taste and the savors
I don't have to be quiet but I am a Mime
I should have screwed my silencer on my gun
I wait at your door and hope you will see me
Amidst the shadows like wallpaper I hang
A single tear rolls on my whitened cheek and the glisten
I watch with an incredible ache as he comes in and the sadness
I gladly tap him on his shoulder so we can dance and I long
But I am not noticed and I shudder and yet I keep watch
And the pain
I see you again in the subway as I do tricks and my cup
My faithful cup filled with memories and coins
Coins that i can never use
I have no pockets to keep my feelings in and the coins
I slowly move and bravely part my lips
I gently and silently kiss your sleeping lips but am left bitter
Tomorrow i will do more of the same
The light chiffon veneers of winter's face
Slow-deliquesce as rangy shadows wane
Soft gossamer as whitened Guipure lace
Melts running to the rills ... with April's rain.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Quat-Ro Your Four Line" Poetry Cpntest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "April 2019 Premier 7, Up To A Max Of 5 Lines" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
* This is a "Rithimus Divisa", taken from the poem "The Surge, Life", written on March 17, 2019 *
WONDERLAND OF SNOW
White powdery wisps
Instead of the morning dew...
Winter's Wonderland
* * *
SNOW ANGEL
Walking past the park
Wings made with childlike passion
Angelic Image
* * *
SNOW SNOW SNOW
Whitened droplets
Falling from gray clouds above
Catch one on your tongue
* * *
SNOW
White covers the ground
Trouble starting the blower
Shovel time...again
* * *
JACK FROST
Chilled air on glass
Panes painted with icy hues
Scenes from Jack's palette.
single silver birch
overlooks the whitened head stones
priest in black waiting.
Who am I really?
Lover , sinner , saint?
The outward faces that we show,
are only coats of paint.
Everyone goes about the expected way,
and plays their little games,
never realizing , that they all spread the pain.
The ones we thought that loved us best,
tell the most vicious lies.
And all the time they hide behind
a mask of perfect smiles.
A world full of glossies , and whitened bright veneers
passing by those they deem less worthy,
and causing them to fear.
Left with wondering what we did,
to make them feel such disdain?
People we once trusted,
now just turn the other way.
False friends , and broken vessels,
is all there is to say.
Whited sepulchers on the outside,
inside death and decay.
While the water’s whitened waves
Flew forth fast in foamy sprays
All amidst an airy act
Blowing, blasting, beating back
Seeing swarthy, seaward sailing ships
Onward o’er the ocean dips
Upward, downward, driving days
Seeking harbors, havens haste their ways
The ships sail sure in stormy seas
Calmly coursing comes a breeze
Now softly sailing, slides the ship
Muffled, mellow, made my trip
A canvass, deep, has been composed
between red's blend with purple hues
Cruel paths of glaciers, mighty swords
deeply carved a threshold grand
Each turn of compass, leaves a brand,
forever leaves a breathless word
Green rivers whipped to whitened froth
have nourished pines upon the ridge
It carved a place exempt from time, and
justifies a Godly mind
Keeping watch ore' a western floor
loom monoliths on a timeless shore
Morning suns of shimmering wines
Nightly stars and moonlight shines
Ours to cherish and explore,
Past and future, native lore
Question not the splendid wonder
Rejoice with eyes, behold and conquer
saturate the trails down under
That if one stands within this glory, and
understands the folklore stories,
voices freeze with questions asked,
while sunlight peaks, where ancients gasped!
Xanadu in fact, exclaimed
You came, you saw, a crevice famed
Zenith, is Grand, and a canyon is named
__________________________________________
8/29/14 For Contest Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton