Best Wide A Poems
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.
Image if one will, a field where paper roses grow,
Each color an emotion, it's variations symbolic to
Feeling felt, and yet expressed.
Compositions of love letters, shaped into delicate
Blossoms, growing or dieing within the fragile human
Heart.
A unique species of floral design, enchanting the
Raw essences of it's creator, with a mystical fragrance
All it's own.
Passions spice crimson red, romantic sensuality
A white splicing with reds undertow.
Blues calming peaceful shades of hew,
and a navy's hardened edge exposing devotions
Everlasting love in beauty's open petals of the divine.
A golden sunflower opens wide, a visions friendship flower,
Seeds cast to the fertile soil beneath the kindred of humanity.
Compassion's evergreen bouquet,
So many multitudes of description,
It is impossible to describe all,
For change is the one constant rhythm
Of life itself.
Death's black rose, a crumbling love letter that melts away,
A disintegration of thoughts emotion unto the river of dust.
Not completely forgotten,
Living only by memory's remembrances,
Of past echoes,
Left alive in shadows contrasting shades faded by time.
Fragile is the human heart, made of crystal glass,
Shattering easily to the touch, if handled to roughly.
But even more delicate are the emotions held within,
A prism of reflections.
It's light leads to the inner garden of the spiritual soul,
Where the paper roses do grow.
Imaginations field of wonders, thoughts glorious
Bouquet of possibilities to draw from.
A limitless expressive well, for the poet's ink pen,
Lightly dripped onto the empty page of white,
To write upon, vivid are these roses to the poetic heart.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
come
sleep
it’s late
where are you
my brain thinks it’s day
the world lies under its duvet
and the sky has dimmed its lights yet my eyes are owl-like
waiting for you to arrive and spread wide a hush of dreams over the sheep-laden night
I don’t dare to dream beyond what I can do
It is foolish, craving to capture everything within view.
The world around is wondrously wide, a canvas vast
The more we try to grab, the more into agitation we’re cast.
Keep away from herculean schemes for tomorrow
Instead give today your best for a brighter morrow.
Focus on feasible things, let go, what’s beyond.
Take every step with caution, to simple needs respond.
Do you wanna come play in the paint with me?
Colours in tubs, ready for hands and feet
Dipping in slow, squishy - cold, in they go
Feeling the paint gushing between our toes
Stomp, Stomp, it splashes up to the knees
Pro Hart imagination - anything goes
Our grins playful and wide, a giggling mess
Do you wanna come play in the paint with me?
Now our hands, oh oh, where will this lead
Skin like a canvas, paint running down with ease
I get the slippery feeling it’s going to please
Mind like a child, happy, therapeutic and free
What could be more fun than painting with me?
Come join me in a total body paint graffiti :D
Wales 980 BC, Sierra Leone, Congo,Niger, Peru, India, Pakistan, Russia, China & Philippines
Chapped scabbed skin, dirt encrusted, blue-pallid in the moonlight;
stars glow radiant light, wolf howl midnight.
Insects stir, skin scratch, tangled hair amass
naked ,as born, rise; the bore hole calls, days task.
Cracked like a seagulls eggs, the cave’s opening calls.
The gold-red-green copper metal's worth all,
child moles, mother moles, dwarfs small, crawl;
between the crevasse in the knocker's wall.
Three hand spans wide, a mere two foot tall;
oil burns in claywells, soot coats on dirty faces,
through rankness they squirm, hands on bone awls;
naked children, and women mine in these places
for raw metal to make the weapons of man.
In before dawn, baskets full, haul, out at dusk, no sun at all....
melt the metal, make, maul,
for the warriors, our defense, hunger gnaws, this makes no sense….
Grease fills the air beyond despair, stench fills each venous vein;
contorted forms, of those small, helpless, born, fills the shunt with continual pain.
From the dawn of time, this drama's had play,
one hundred and fifty eight million children; slaves today.
Women and children sacrificed so men can get paid.
*sorry topic deserves more than 16 lines
A talent from the basement of pubs onto little larger events
gaining knowledge experience,above all loved friends.
I seen five of us one time no skankers to be seen
but was about to change, ya knowarramean.
Pat`s talent recognised,soon rubbing shoulders with the best
his capabilities widening and put to the test
that he overwhelmed, flourished able to stand high
many towns and cities IOJ passed did pass by.
Every soul on this Earth had only a kind word, blessed with love
and cannot evaluate your suffering,now an angel above.
Joanne Trinity alongside Alijah will keep IOJ strong
rising up high the name fly, right where it belongs.
Your send off that of you will be proud,from far and wide a gathering of peace
a creation stemmed from you, one of belief.
Back to Cons, Simon Peggy and myself worse for wear but no regrets
offering Peggy her own cigarettes.. lol ... ( i didnt realise ) all good ..... BLESS X
On pillow white soft winds had blown
yellow bright breed yields once sown
lost fields of grass her footfalls tread
searched far and wide a nook to bed
Across blue sphere stray sparkles shined
warm hearts befell and futures dined
what followed slow bare tiptoes braved
long time past due sweet bodies craved
Moist lips pursued, perused and sipped
brushed skin aroused as bosom gripped
beating chests still breaths hearts stole
entwined entrusts forth welcomed souls
Morning slows where last touches brace
smiles lie on a pretty face
The Sacrifical Child
Llandudno Wales 980 BC-1846, Sierra Leone, Congo,
Niger, Peru, India, Pakistan, Russia, China & Philippines 2013
Chapped, scabbed skin, dirt encrusted, blue-pallid in the moonlight;
the stars still glow radiant light when they rise, a wolf howls midnight.
Insects stir on scratched skin in tangled hair massed
naked, as born, they rise; the bore hole calls, days task.
Cracked like a seagulls eggs, the cave opening call.
The gold-red-green copper, a metal's worth it all,
child moles, mother moles, dwarfs small, crawl;
between the narrow crevasse in the knocker's wall.
The entry three hand spans wide, a mere two foot tall;
oil burns in claywells, soot coats on dirty faces, as they crawl,
through rankness they squirm, their hands on bone awls;
naked children, and women mine in these places, these hell falls,
for raw metals to make the weapons of man.
In before dawn, baskets full, haul........
out at dusk, human moles get no sun at all....
others melt the metal, make, and maul,
The warriors claim its for our defense
yet hunger gnaws, this makes no sense….
Grease fills the air beyond despair
stench fills each heinous vein;
contorted forms, of those small, helpless, born
fill in the shunts with continual pain.
From the dawn of time, this drama still plays,
more than one hundred and fifty eight million children; slaves today.
Women and children sacrificed so men can get paid.
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Opened to smile,
Mouth wide, a while,
Then heard his cold lie,
Mum, for you I will die,
love you being my final sigh.
Recalling it right,
1990, a night,
In labour, in pain,
In tears, in distrain
At deathbed, along came.
A second born,
A boy, happy I became.
Seconds by, his cry,
Ooh mama! Me whereby?
Minutes by, time fly,
Now grown, hereby nearby.
Mama this, mama that,
Mama please, mama whereat,
Time gone, mama ageing,
Soon come, mama dying.
Hear mine, a moment,
From heart, a testament,
They lie, in search of wealth,
They love, in wait for ya death,
Now go marry,
A girl, a berry,
A lady, like a jetty,
To help carry,
My body, so heavy.
My childhood spread to the world in bottles of sun screen,
poured out into outstretched hands.
My childhood was painted across easels and written on walls,
Drawn far and wide, a Crayola-crayon land.
Childhood was served on plastic plates, microwave-safe,
To a table with plastic place sets.
Childhood was scissors found, and used, on not only paper,
But hair and chairs and everything else.
It was stickers and glue, playdoh and dolls.
It was broken hearts and broken bathroom stalls.
It was tears, and spankings, and moves.
It was fears, and boredom, and excitement at new shoes.
My childhood was a white house,
On a Hollywood Drive,
And a red house,
On Riverside Drive.
It’s the arguments, the kicking and screaming.
It’s the hugs, the kisses and dreaming.
It’s the little things, the band-aids and the duct-tapes
Can’t fix. It’s the cuts, the bruises, and the scrapes.
My childhood was a brown horse with a white star,
And a cream horse with a rainbow mane.
My childhood was an old, beaten-up silver car,
And a red doll, elmo, with worn out eyes and a long remembered name,
An old friend with a few rough patches from being thrown too far.
It’s staying out too long on snow days,
And jumping in puddles on rainy days.
Childhoods are the places we came from,
And the way we grew up.
My childhood is a memory frozen by a picture,
And loaded in a frame,
And stuck on a shelf,
To be viewed everyday.
It’s funny, the things we do
So we don’t forget.
I'm glad to be an onion
To have such wide 'a-peel'
I shed my layers sensually
Olfactory workers reel
I do it in the kitchen
One day I'll be on stage
Juicy slices circling that pole
My striptease all the rage
June 28, 2020
You are a star Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
In whispered hushes, the year awakes,
A canvas fresh, where dreams will take.
January’s breath, crisp and clear,
A brushstroke bold in time’s frontier.
Fireworks bloom in velvet skies,
Dreams ignited, hopes aimed high.
Resolutions inked in hearts anew,
Paths imagined, leading through.
Snow-clad earth, Winter’s delight,
A **Wonderland** bathed in silver light.
Frosted panes hold tales yet to be told,
While ambered hearths shield us from cold.
Children laugh on hills of white,
Sleds in flight, pure winter’s might.
Yet beneath the joy, pause we must,
To honor a dream both fierce and just.
**Martin Luther King Jr.**, a name profound,
His voice for justice eternally resounds.
With love and courage, he dared to say,
“Let freedom and equality light our way.”
Mentors rise with a guiding flame,
Quiet heroes, unspoken fame.
In **National Mentoring Month**, we find,
The power of teaching—a gift so kind.
Steam swirls from **Hot Tea’s** embrace,
Warming the chill, grounding the space.
Chamomile soothes, and chai boldly sings,
In porcelain cups, comfort brings.
Curtains lift, a stage aglow,
The shimmer of **Awards Season** begins to show.
Golden Globes gleam; they spin their tales,
The magic of stories on wintry trails.
**Creativity reigns** in this icy sphere,
Where ideas shimmer, vivid and sincere.
Brushes paint dreams, pens write their claim,
Imagination dances, unbound by name.
Snow festivals rise, crystalline art,
Beauty sculpted—a frosted heart.
Under soft flakes, angels appear,
Children’s laughter draws us in.
Feathered messengers in skies profound,
On **National Bird Day**, their songs resound.
From sparrow’s call to eagle’s pride,
Nature’s music is a joy worldwide.
Across oceans wide, a sunlit ray,
Marks bright **Australia Day**’s array.
Barbecues sizzle, waves softly play,
Celebrating a land of endless days.
Among joy and tears, the time does flow,
The births and losses that help us grow.
Memories etched in January's scroll,
Each moment a chapter, each soul made whole.
a door stands in my way.
it is charmingly carved, vines curling
around the smooth lacquered edges.
still retaining the original hue of the wood
yet brighter now, gold shines from within
surrounded by the walls of the forest
hidden away from prying eyes, it seems
to flicker more in the shadows of afternoon sun
first cinnamon – then colors ripple across the caramel surface
till it is less like wood and more a faery-touched pool
mahogany, russet red, amber and umber
adorned with a copper knocker of a proud bird
spreading his free wings wide – a vision of who I could be
and I know some magnificent trove of treasure is waiting beyond
knowledge of what I have wanted since I could want
my hand reaches out, longing in every slender finger
the shining handle is so close – everything I yearn for
could be at my command.
but do I even dare? Could I even do it?
indecision burns every bold stroke of confidence
and the whispering sunlit forest burns too
quicker then I can stop it, smoldering fire turns to ash
ash to dust, and dust to darkness, and then –
a door stands in my way.
it is smooth steel, heavyset and towering
almost like stone, no imperfections to be seen
and through the murky darkness swirling around me
it is the only thing I know now.
one single line runs down it, ready to be pried open
and I could. I could push it open, smash it to bits
I could walk straight through it.
but – how could I? what lies beyond?
nothing but uncertainty and falsehood, maybe
a lone silver mirror with the glass in shards
reflecting everything I do not wish to see
reflecting the person I see in the door
who is blocking my path now. but still,
my memories – long since turned to ash – long gone
piece themselves back together
and I, standing there unable to go beyond
am the only one who has chained myself up.
hope peels back the veils of darkness
I could go running through it, heart pounding
and soaring, and dancing, and reaching,
and finally flying free through the glorious sky
I could.
so I do.
Acid Pain
Keeled over ripe with p a i n returns my a c i d r a i n
Toxicity within my b r a i n will I ever sleep a g a i n
Enter body s h a k e s eyes asleep wide a w a k e
More I just can’t t a k e internal life e a r t h q u a k e
Echo walled in s c r e a m s nightmares fill my d r e a m s
Desperation is my t h e m e sanity splits at the s e a m s
Agonizing tortured m i n d peace to never f i n d
Hardwires begin to u n w i n d blood shot burning b l i n d
Paranoid frantic B e i n g life is not worth what it’s s e e i n g
Events teaching d e c e i v i n g it is “The End” I’m l e a v i n g
bmdavey@10/24/17