Blanches Poems | Examples

The Night Before

I did not sleep that night,
the hotel room was already taking on
the chill ambience, smell, and sounds
of an intensive care unit.

Occasional distant laughter
in a corridor where people are carefree,
I pretend to laugh along
but thoughts croak and tremble.

I mean nothing to Cincinnati,
the city has no memory of me yet,
and If I die in its University Hospital
I will still be a hole within a hole
of a book never read.

During the 4 a.m. G.P.S drive
it rained a soft black rain
as headlights plowed into
the unknown.

Back in the hotel room,
I am still packing and unpacking
while somnambulant eyes
try not to see the looming Hospital entrance
emerging from a gray faced dawn.

The entrance is an electric mouth
that withers. puckers and reflates.

Beyond sliding doors, the day blanches white.

To Be Followed 4

In open schools,
On the laziness of orange trees,
On the beds of straw,
I’m looking for it,

In the naked mills,
On the guest books,
On the square roofs,
I’m looking for it,

Under the sheets of Sunday,
On the tars that melt,
On the white spices,
I’m looking for it,

On the defeated facades,
The distant sails,
On the sweet vines,
I’m looking for it,






Dans les écoles ouvertes,
Sur la paresse des orangers,
Sur les lits de paille,
Je le cherche,

Dans les moulins dévêtus,
Sur les livres d’or,
Sur les toits carrés,
Je le cherche,

Sous les draps du dimanche,
Sur les goudrons qui fondent,
Sur les épices blanches,
Je le cherche,

Sur les façades vaincues,
Les voiles éloignées,
Sur les vignes sucrées,
Je le cherche,

Les Perce - Neige

Je vois partout de beaux bouquets
de clochettes blanches à l’air fragile ;
Ces petites fleurs aux têtes courbées
feuilles vert-foncé et tiges graciles.

Sur une pelouse forestière
un tapis blanc resplendissant
de têtes, inclinées en prière
annonce l’arrivée du printemps.

Sous les doux rayons du soleil
j’apprécie ce paysage si pur,
ces clochettes de l’espoir éveillent
la somnolence de la nature.

28.03.2022

Raven's Bones

Waterlilies brighten black
ripples, reeds, and rocks below.
An even flow, bane and blight
recedes to bare raven’s bones.

A grave of darkness blanches
In austere light on bloodless
banks, but blue eyes cannot flood
its once watery coffin.

Dew on the waterlilies
reflect these absurdities -
the woeful bones glistening 
alone near floral beauty.



Written 5/23/20 
N/A in
Genuine Englyns  Contest

Aging

Nature ages like Youth,
a bougainvillea wrapped 
around a strapless watch.

Youth doesn’t look at the clock
but ignores passing hours unknowing,
innocent of the melting water.

It leaps and lunges without fear of a fading silhouette,
it smiles with missing teeth, 
gaps filled with dreams that will change.

Youth giggles at the simplest of movements,
it blanches under praise -
it drifts along shores, feeling hearing holding then 
abandoning the flotsam and jetsam of aging. It is a bundle of 

yesterday’s plans 
ostracised by calendars,
unaware that friends will leave, as
trenches are dug by
hands, wrinkled.

Youth is a promise milked into creams,
it is a sweating desire to return, rediscover the 
suppleness of joints, of bones, of possibility.

Youth has not yet become a mouth that sighs,
is bougainvillea still free from being entwined, twisted and tied.

It is not yet conscious of time as an intangible abstract
forever

One Candle

Her crimson heart blanches,
   broken, her soul aches
never to numb her loss.

When songbirds silently retreat
to tallest treetops, shaken
she lights her solitary restlessness.
On the windowsill, it flickers and flirts
with dusk's sifted air.

Constant burning, I could never imagine this
insatiable, impatient yearning -
for one candle to beacon to one more chance.

She falls, spills over, slumps
into ebony night -
she, steadfast, stifles sobs performing
like in a Shakespearean play,
pretending to want for rise of day.

And I wonder why
         does her lone candle shine
for him? Who deserves her heart sworn 
to love despite a deceptive guise -
no intent to return, only rumors of his lies?

And I wonder why
I feel a kinship with her shadows,
(not yet hopeless or ready to resign), 
they swing, lilting light,
lifting prayers into angelic paths 
beyond, and I wonder.

Her blanched heart,
   broken soul aches,
and I, a passerby, 
wonder why       I bleed her loss
           and still feel the warmth of her candle. 


written 2/15/17

Death Tolls

The atmosphere rings with the bell like calls
of the plover flock, long before they are spotted.
The flight herringbones a grey fedora sky.
Markings of white and coal black weave,
wing-stitched, a blanket maker’s dream.

Sigh makers 	they close on the beach 
at high tide, the horizon shivers      the
sand blanches. These ravishing scavengers
light on the tattered edge of wet to dry,
dawdling with the dead.

Plovers are diminutive scroungers, one-legged
dancers, hopping to the pull of tide, dining on
crab-eggs in black-tie and feathered tails, their
gray skull caps lined with a black brow. 
Sparrow-small birds dress to the nines. 
 
A feast for the birds, fall crisps, crab moltings,
go on for endless miles. September is beginning
and soon winged ones will fly to sunny shores.
The cold Atlantic will moan for the loss of music,
the unstitched sky will part. The avian choir is off 
to the mud flats of Carolina. 


First Published Eunoia Review January 2015

Perspective

Why is there anything, anything at all?
It’s a question that blanches the brain.
A question that holds thinkers in thrall.
And the answer is by no means plain.

What are we to make of endless space
With its billions of light-studded stars?
Is even one inhabited by a human race?
Do they know about Earth, Pluto, Mars?

It’s humbling to scan the skies at night
And to understand we are but a blot.
It casts earthly challenges in a new light,
Making us wonder what God has wrought

White Halloween

We're having a white Halloween
as it snows to the brim.
Where the pumpkins lie buried.
Their candles going dim.

There's a cold spell upon us.
White frost on the vines.
Their stems peeking out
to ceasing our spines.

With sheets of white cotton
torn between branches.
Ghosts with black eyes.
Spirits in blanches.

Webs of white cotton
stretching the trees.
Home for a spider.
A place on the breeze.

Blankets of snow
covering the ground.
Spirits lay dormant
when evil is crowned.

A Broken Light Bulb- Upon the Blanches

(Haikus from my short poetry collection in Greek: Se ?????? st????? ??????asµ????, Perched on a few verses, 
translated by me.)

A broken light bulb.
It’s dawning. The naked street.
A butterfly.
            ---
Upon the branches 
of dawn, the day’s rustling
silk dreams.

The Moonlit Tide

My love departs whence the waves tumble
to and fro o’er timeless grains of sand. 
Mottled depths of sea drown out restless rumble 
as fallen tears slip through my trembling hands.  
Say my name, enchanting moon of lore.
I shall not fault you lest my love return.
Beckon tides to well and light restore.
Grant me this before my heart doth spurn.
Full moon cast reflections bittersweet
‘til sunrise blanches all my thoughts of yore.
If I fall prey to waking dawn’s deceit,
Please rise anew to carry love ashore.
Waiting heart shan’t drown in moonlit tide.
In raging surge, for love I shall abide.


 
For POETESS DARKLY's Blame it on the Moon Contest
10/23/13

Chameleon

I am a chameleon with a colour-changing skin
It matches every mood that I am ever in.
When I’ve acted strangely, or said something stupid
I am so embarrassed, my face turns to red

And if I scream out loud, when I have had a fright
My body starts to tremble, and blanches to white.
When I am cold and shivering, it takes a different hue
My skin goes all goosey, it turns to blue

I am a chameleon with a colour-changing mind
It matches every mood that you could ever find.
When I am filled with envy of something that I have seen
My mind succumbs to jealousy, and changes to green

If I am flushed with anger, about something that’s been said
My temper starts to flame a bright and burning red.
Sometimes, I’m sad and lonely, when I’m missing you
I feel so dejected, I go a gloomy blue.

I am a chameleon with many colours to show
They reflect my every mood, as feelings come and go
Though all are not as bright as I would like them to be
They fill my life with thanks for their diversity.

I am a chameleon with many colours to show
And everywhere I go, I have a Rainbow glow

Monsoon Night

Over rolling hills, it tiptoes in on bobcat feet
With Lynx-like eyes, and billowing clouds of gray
And turns the hush of twilight's blood red sky
Into a witches brew, alive with piercing cries
A wind that coils in the breast of dunes
Gliding in from distant lands, Saguaro sands
Eerie sounds whistle through window sills
The chill of what was peaceful and still
Has turned to anger, fear and dread
Wildness arrives on chariots with mighty steeds
The monsoon thrives, while a desert blanches dead
It gnashes teeth with biting winds
Shaking shingles, tree trunks bend
The pouring thunder, lightning peels
Rain gushes down as strong as steel
We wait until the wrath is spent
At last with gusto,....a final vent
Like spoiled child it takes a bow
There's nothing but a murmur now
The wretched carpet left behind
Broken wings from dark of night
Trees and limbs are battered hosts
Cacti lift their arms to toast
The remnant of a monsoon's ghost


.................................
Inspired by Paula's Monsoon Contest

Political Clerihew #2

Nancy Pelosi
Listening closely,
Blanches at Senator shouting "You lie!"
Glares at the outrageous nerve of the guy.

Peintures Noires Et Blanches

paint me a dark picture from black and white
bind me by the enrichments of this life
tear my pale skin with the blade of this knife
take my enduced coma to a new height
break my endless darkness with a new light
connect this heartache to a new found strife
conjour a new way to destroy my blithe
in which i struggle with through the dark nite

a lack of judgement will be your last note
letting the words of others take your mind
poisoned beyound means with no antidote
to my heart, you have been very unkind
wearing their lies like your sheltering coat
now to the venom they feed you , you bind

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