Best Whorls Poems
There’s a beguiling danger in beauty…
seduced as I was by the fickle fingers of fate musingly stroking my hair,
I envisaged
this lusciously lavish landscape
of sun-raptured heavenly hills and valid valleys
to be a lush, plush place for me to land ~
alas, such deception my naive perception did offer.
Buried beneath the facade of a fertile dream-come-true
and a mesmerizing mirage of natural light and zephyrus breaths -
where your thoughts hugged the horizons of my mind
like clouds on the edges of prairie dog skies
and where your stampeding passions trampled my inhibitions -
were delicate bandeaux of ice;
finespun and feathery like polar gossamer
that formed on the stems of your ruptured dreams
that then became my nightmare
when you had your hard freeze
while warm sap still flowed through your veins,
pumped and pushing through your broken being
and freezing on contact with the chilled clime
cocooning me, in a sudden silken surge of your glazing gauze
holding me, in the vivid wild magic of your frosted crystallized clutches -
fossilizing me, in icy opalescent ribbons of ornate whorls.
Unable to escape the grasping glacial petals of your exquisite pain,
your frost flowers plunged me into the frigid heart
of your bitter bluestem’s prairie winter...
There’s a beguiling beauty in danger
hypnotized and hijacked
as I was by the rhythmic sways of your tall grass ways -
your flickering tongue tasting my air
as my emotions were extorted
till I was bled white -
obviously oblivious
that I was being preyed upon
by a stealthy force of nature motivated by indigenous instincts.
Susan Ashley
March 13, 2018
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Poetry for the Sake of Poetry
Sponsor: John Lawless
*bluestem: tall grass native to the Great Plains with bluish leaf sheaths*
*frost flower: thin layers of ice extruded from long-stemmed plants in autumn or early winter. These thin ice layers form dainty ‘ribbons’ or ‘petals’*
A field afire
papery petals glow like ruby votive candles
a collection of cupped solar flames
vowed to shine despite the dew before dawn
evaporating any doubt the sun would rise
the mist would lift
consoling one in darkness
Rising up where wildflowers past have fallen
victim to soil fallow and shallow
your Spring growth resurrects my hope
as your resurgent blooms stretch to the heavens
I awaken thawed from the frost of loss
regenerated by dreams
of undying love sacrifice and joy
O poppy blood red
vast your bed a symbol of life and death
and imagination.. you inspire me with your irony
your roots belie a feathery foliage
anchored though airy
light and looking like you might take flight
but spirited blossoms stand an army of angels
earthbound and blushing
My breath stops when I gaze upon you — yet
when I walk among your thronging whorls
grazed by your grace
my chest rises and falls
my bloodstream set ablaze
by the grandeur of your inner light
my heart rejoices with the voices of breezes
aswirl with a swish through your scarlet banners of peace
We share a savor for new-day chardonnay skies
tender the warm tinge before summer’s singe
rhythmic air moves us with singsong sighs
a swaying dance of sepaled celebrants
with nary a fresh bud trod upon
crimson and sunrise spirit and flesh
raising palms and psalms in thanks and praise
festive in rebirth and remembrance
where tears fall not as rain but as
c o n f e t t i
as my heart carries the bouquet of your immortal beauty
like a bride on her May wedding day
Susan Ashley
March 11, 2022
*Dedicated to my father who gently passed on June 10, 2021.
You are loved and missed dearly, dad
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Spring Showers or Spring Flowers
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
*nary: not, or not any
(Image: Glow with pride: Express.co.uk)
No larger than a grain of rice,
her face is forming; mouth, a slice.
Her heart, a tube, begins to beat;
at one month, things are imprecise.
An inch now from her head to feet.
Eyes, fingers, toes: not yet complete.
Her neural tube, well on its way.
At two months, things look pretty sweet.
Four inches long, an ounce to weigh;
miscarriage risk drops every day.
All parts are present, there to see;
at three months, fingers grasp and splay.
Her nails and hair seen easily;
eyelid, eyebrow, eyelash agree.
Four months now and six inches long,
the ultrasound clear: she’s a she.
Her muscles build; she’s getting strong.
You thought you felt her; you’re not wrong.
She’s covered with lanugo hair.
At late month five, she hears your song.
Her fingerprints? Whorls present there.
The eyelids part; eyes open, stare.
When she hiccups, you may observe.
Month six births: viable with care.
Refinements to sensory nerves,
reacts to light, from pain will swerve.
She rarely is reserved or still;
month seven, and this gal’s got verve!
At five pounds now, she kicks at will.
Lungs immature, but they can fill.
Eight months, all sharpens, gets refined;
You’re on alert, you know the drill.
It’s nine months now; she’s quite confined.
Delivered, breathes in, and unwinds.
Flesh of your flesh, though quite her own;
Distinctly her, you’re intertwined.
"Up at dawn, the dewy freshness of the hour, the morning rapture of the birds, the daily miracle of sunrise, set her heart in tune, and gave her Nature's most healing balm." ~ Louisa May Alcott
Dawn's light awakens me from sleep,
as morning light unfurls.
On the skyline I see it sweep
across meadows of grazing sheep.
Dewdrops hang like fine strands of pearls
on webs of silken whorls.
Like tears, they fell in waning night
as if the sky was grieved,
but in amber rays of daylight
I clearly see the dewy sight
of moisture, to which leaves have cleaved...
their thirst has been relieved.
Lush, the grass when it drank its fill
from Nature's water tap.
My garden is happy to swill
morning mist when the air is chill.
Petals fold to better entrap
drops for flowers to lap.
Prismed by the sun's reflection,
each pearl soon disappears,
dried by Ra's heated subjection.
There will be a new collection
when in the morning there appears
dew that's been shed as tears.
Original Date of Posting ~ June 18, 2022
Dewdrops Contest
This Challenge ~ December 3, 2022
Writing Challenge - X'd Poems Second Chance Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Blush
fair skies
mist Sol-kissed
citrine seduced
mimosa clouds bask
dreamy in champagne light
golden-god’s sparkle fills
chalices roused and
rouged as poppies
hail dawn with
unfurled
whorls
Susan Ashley
August 16, 2021
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Merse
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudhury
*rouged: verb; French; colored red*
*image: Nature Wallpapers > Fields > Poppy field at sunrise*
Oh! floriferous, bold, roseate ebullience of May,
Alluring doting sights welcome-vibes you convey
Gracing edges, where the roses and azaleas sway
Forming resplendent ballet of multicolored array;
O rhododendron, flamboyant in euphoric morn,
Flaunting flaming-purple how gardens you adorn
Where hummingbirds frolic and butterflies play
And bell-shaped showy blossoms greet sunny day
As jubilation of spring, breezing your realm serene,
Revels in whorls of petals pristine, as you preen,
Boasting hints amethyst on elegance evergreen
Sprinkling perfumed ambiance on tempo upbeat
Where pulse of romance strums passionate beat
Lauding floriferous display, as if a flower bouquet;
O rhododendron~ roseate, ornate beauty of May!
June 8, 2022
Purple Flowers Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron Flores
They soar through space-scapes of
divine milky whorls and blue halos;
incandescent dandelion wishes
blown across nocturnal fields -
illuminating the imaginative expanse
between eternities of cosmic dark ages and light years
are fiery pixies burning holes through obscurity
with passionate gold dust gilding awe -
souls arising fulfill their destinies
Susan Ashley
August 13, 2019
The rosa blanda embroidering your face
will become the veins in my tongue reaching to clog my throat
go past the tonsils and vocal chords and windpipe
down and down still, burrowing into the esophagus
relentless in its pursuit, just, just, just to lay seeds in my chest
tumor a pea, peanut, grape, walnut, lime, matilija, peach, grapefruit
straining muscle surprising itself with the ability to withstand the stretch
craving asphyxiation, those lungs may covet paroxysm
but grieve not the fulfillment of a destiny
this ache, this devastation was meant to be
no, they won’t be careful of what they wish for
you’ll become the air I swallow, and the organ that inhales and exhales it both
viciously lush beauty anywhere and everywhere
so when you see the body that used to be mine,
you’ll gasp in horror or awe or both: which one? I’ll never know
the garden you planted nurses no speech, nor soil, nor hope of infertility
just a promise of bloom and perpetual harvest
a pretty letter from dainty lips, viscous honey quenching its thirst
a giddy blush warming embryos out of stout cases
a brush of apple-sun cheeks dawning moonlight-budding leaves
just a gaze and my heart will melt,
sand that brazenly melds into laminated glass
gifted to strong hands smothered in peppermint lotion
who will keep it safe in their loops, whorls, and arches
brindle cedar irises roots to this infatuation
their existence cruel to a poet who only knows
words mere facets unworthy of describing
fields of cosmoses a cosmos itself
choking on fantasies and tears of scarlet drupes,
I retch out garlands born in guileless meadows
and as the last petal falls,
the sweetest rose hip takes branch
its only sin a love too big
Light 1-29-24 Syllables checked with www.howmanysyllables
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Light
Nightfall’s hand laid heavy on fleeing twilight
While the darkness, born early, swallowed the light.
Driving rain clouded the eyes of pale daylight,
Sheer curtains of rain blurred tears in the lamplight.
A world set spinning on bleak winter’s wrathful wings,
A battlefield of ruined souls shunned the light.
Howling waves, without sweet dawn’s consolation,
Drove raving storm surges, diluting the light.
Tangles of downpours assaulted waning day,
Jagged dirges shred blinded lyrics of light.
Torrent’s heavy footsteps drenched the dying dusk
When cracks appeared in sealed shelters, leaking light.
Atmospheric flotsam clogged free flowing dawn,
Driving dams of old debris to block new light.
In this rain painting, where darkness battled bliss,
There stepped a warrior, rain angel of light.
The storm wrath silenced. Darkness shamed. Light in whorls
Opened wide a redeemed chrysalis of light.
Bewildering static
frames the soulless—
restlessly habitual, as
crippled philosophies efflux
amidst stunted swells,
cracked and parched
despite ocean whorls that
coat wayward sentiments, of
grave quagmires rippling in
steady streams,
paradoxically cornered into a
vortex of intoxicating drifters.
Rather, the moon guides my way
amidst lulling meres,
soothing the storms
raging within perplexed
personas, sailing towards a
dawning of lucid seascapes—
home to you, my ocean blue.
Collecting shells, I walk along a beach
while carrying a basket in my hand.
I spy a lovely conch with whorls of peach
and reach down to retrieve it from the sand.
I see a cobalt spiraled shell and gasp.
Another beauty for my centerpiece;
I hold the blue of sky within my grasp,
and there is one the ivory of fleece!
I love these pretty flowers from the sea.
Contained within them is the ocean's roar,
and rootless, they can be plucked easily
from where they thrive along the sunny shore!
Unlike my garden's blooms, they do not die,
and blossoming all year, they please my eye.
April 21, 2021 / A recent N/A
for the 'Your 2021 N-A Choice' Poetry Contest
of William Kekaula
My mood is purple today.
A pinch of chilly, a slap of icy rain.
The kind of mood you silently curse.
When it knocks the sextant from your self-worth.
My mood is purple today.
So, you'll say hello to me first.
Or there'll be no fake cordial at all.
This purpleness will soon pass...hopefully.
Like wind ripples in green whorls of grass.
But for now, give me a sliver of space.
Stay clear of my vibrating horn.
The one with dried blood in its thorn.
I'll stay chained to my pen for most of the day.
If you want to communicate,
click like a dolphin from a distant bay.
My mood is purple today.
Induced Interludes
Twilight disrobes a soundless star
It claims some gentler theme from me
Caught lingering in a unified bestilled embrace
Beneath a unique spotlight of its gleaming afterglow
gently now, gently
thus footprints bare none
alight butterfly rest on a finger
spilled words occasions the breeze
the gist of me shadows alongside jaguars
Morning star glint after dawns flow
Challenge arranges yet another measure
An opportune solemn hymn ingratiates breaths
Stages of a day follow blissfully edge to edge quietly
gently now, gently
a better course grace me
fingertip traces a fashioned grin
a made verse set rhythmically whispers
a softly caressed infant coos towards silence
Sunsets a mimed score entertains
Review disciplined superbly portrayed
Persuades descending rays an eyeful adieu
Nightwings greet dusk, whorls up into absence
gently now, gently
ebb star pivots another
penitent pose cradles prayers
pointed at fingers in lieu of sheeps
eyes seals behind dreams, genteel cast...
A bouquet of fire beside a lake
Reflecting whorls in red opaque
19 Nov 2014
chaos, am i ... all that is not understood
poison, am i ... once on your lips, the taste of ruin
callow, am i ... a child's heart that beats erotic
obsessed, am i ... as the black coal scarecrow's eye
clement, am i ... friendship and love, embers of my soul
byzantine, am i ... tangle of wispy intentions, dreamed
singularity, am i ... Universe and atom - lepton and void
horror, am i ... warm darkness that whorls, obsidian fire
ocean, am i ... cold abyss - ebbing, flowing - pulled by the moon
heaven, am i ... of the dearest light ... the bloodiest weep
life, am i ... the lost ache for love ... the purpose, pure
death, am i ... but a tender ripple in the surface of eternity
timeless, am i ... naught but now, naught but never ...
naught but ... i.
Written and submitted on May 12, 2020
For the "I Am: A List Bio Challenge" Poetry Contest
Andrea Dietrich, Sponsor.