Call To Mind Poems | Examples

Unlit Candles

We bide our time upon the cusp
Twixt what may be and surely must
From evenings hush till morning hours
Begging chase through moon lit bowers
Where gleans the will in blissful trance
And leads the way in halting dance
To just beyond what grasp may reach
Where barely recalled memories teach
Tween what is now and might have been
To tease the eye with promised gleam
With silent whispers barely heard
That nary leash the fleeting word
But call to mind the long lost plight
That dreams and hopes in lofty flight
Might grant surcease on windswept wings
With unbought time and unsought things

When Seasons Speak

When seasons speak
    of warm and blue and bright 
They call to me
           with everything in sight  

To worry not
           the problems of the day
To just enjoy
           the love of nature’s way

When seasons speak
         of war and hate and pain
They call to mind
            of what there is to gain

Another win
                 another plot of land
The toll of death 
             another bloodied hand

I wonder how
  just how one comes to choose
Bullets to flowers  
                with so much to lose

I Slap My Wrist

We wait for news of the sale of our house,
our home. Weeks pass. Unsettled. Unable 
to focus on anything else. All seems
temporary; provisional or not relevant.
I call to mind patients needing patience;
waiting for results. Not knowing. Tested.
Trust tested explores hope, rehearsing what ifs. 
Whatever news comes, knowing brings relief.
Decisions can be made. Actions follow.
In writing I'm reflecting and learning.
It feels like a long vigil: attending;
depending on others. Waiting on God – 
struck by those fleeing conflict or climate,
how trivial our testing. I slap my wrist.

That Dark Place

"That Dark Place"

that place 

where hope waits torturously in vain 
and strength is found cloaked in the kinder darkness 
it waits patiently in that remote singular quiet 
a neat corner of solitude back-of-house 
where sonnets call to mind jangling contemplation
of under promises and over zealous outcomes 
romancing poésies pressed between 
the seconds and the hours, the days and years missed 
the metronome tick-ticks luring forth integrity 
from phantoms outside of imagination 
such a rare well-hidden jewel dangling
on the end of a long chain of events 
to find courage sorely missing front-of-house 
on its card table of tricks that dark place its truth well lit 
and the light once switched, changes the shade 

of everything

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)

Muse and Hues

My mind wanders off into daydreams quite often.
Or are they just playing scenes I have forgotten? 

I spent some time reading from various topics.
Taught musings around concern I have forgotten. 

What I loathe and always hate is the crying wolf.
Still young to ponder on what could be forgotten.

Shades of burning amber and red fall to the ground.
Light caressing fresh touch scenes can't be forgotten. 

A soundless rustle of leaves; wild inspiration. 
How to reveal scenes so they are ne'er forgotten?

When I call to mind a bunny trapped in spotlights, 
Hunter who catches broad ones is ne'er forgotten.

Natural muse, tranquility among lush trees. 
The calm, swaying trees vowed not to be forgotten. 

Oh, to return to my youth for only one night. 
It was a scene, maybe ne'er to be forgotten.

3rd place contest winner

Written: January 03, 2023

My Muse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh

Tell It Like It Is

He still can’t call to mind their first meeting 
But as they saw each other more frequently
She spoke to him in the inaudible language of her eyes
And was bewitched by the clear glow on her face
Like magnet to a piece of metal, he was drawn to her.

When she whispered love’s veiled message
With haunting echoes faintly singing
He found nothing to match her melodic musing
And felt his desires taking a headlong ride
His heart opening to the seamless web of dreams

Never had he known love’s balmy touch before.
As her words fell on him like ambrosia from heaven,
Sweet and fragrant sensations danced within his brain
A pleasant ache tickled him from inside
And he exploded with an inexpressible yearning

But when he talked of living as man and wife, 
She kept a clever silence, never letting her heart out 
She was like a clam tightly sealed, not opening up 
He wondered if their love was dripping away like wax 
How he wished she had unplugged and told it like it is!

October.30.2022
~Placed Fourth~
Tell it Like it is Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mystic Rose Rose

Hints of Autumn

As lonely sighs drift across the mountaintops
Mists linger ‘til midmorning, caressing trees
It's evident that the temperature slowly drops,
For a chill is accompanying the August breeze.

Slight hints of color nestle in along the crown
As lonely sighs drift across the mountaintops
A few leaves, growing tired, are drifting down
For autumn leans heavily on August’s props.

Predicting summer’s sodden humid day’s sops
We can enjoy hints of coming autumn’s glamor
As lonely sighs drift across the mountaintops
They call to mind the end of summer’s clamor.

Be still and you can hear echoes of September
Chants of “the hills are alive” music never stops,
The lovely days of August, always to remember
As lonely sighs drift across the mountaintops.  
 
Written August 11, 2022

Remembering Rod Serling

What’s in a photograph
in reference to time
The events as portrayed
or what they call to mind

Focused on tomorrow,
the picture is lame
Its history frozen
—the future unframed

(Dreamsleep: January, 2022)

Youthful Endearment

Is there ever a time when it is too
  Late to thank someone for all they have done?
  On the contrary, I call to mind one
  Very special person, whom I once knew.
Exactly describing her is the clue
  To recalling our youthful days of fun.
  How my heart was eventually won
  Is the question that now stands before you.
She had the most radiant eyes of green—
  Which were the prettiest found in the school.
  Over her head, her blonde locks she would preen,
Making her face shine just like a jewel.
  Always having pictured her as a queen,
  Now in these lines, may she forever rule.

© 2021

A Photograph of Us

A photograph of us: we are blushing
in your bathroom mirror, your body wrapped
around mine. A blanket. A tattoo
needled in. Your beaming chin in my hair. 
You, promising marital bliss. 
How could you be so lovely?

A photograph of us: 106 miles apart. 
Me, wrapped in fading amaranth sheets that now 
call to mind evisceration. 
You, ripping up wilting notes I wrote to you
til their worthlessness disgusts you. 
How could you?

King of Kings, Lord of Lords

KING OF KINGS, LORD OF LORDS

Some call Him Jesus, some call Him Messiah
And some call Him Emanuel
No matter what His title 
He can save your soul from Hell

One thing you must remember  
He shed His Blood for you
But you have to receive Him as Savior 
For a change to make you new

Once the change has taken place
You'll see just what I mean
Your eyes will then be open
To joy you have never seen

You will want to leap in excitement
At the feeling you have inside
As you call to mind the sacrifice
He made for you the day He died

He rose from the grave to live again
 Just as He said He would do
He's coming back to earth one day
His Kingdom to renew

To live your life without Him
Is something you can't afford
Don't miss eternity in Heaven
With the King of Kings and Lord of Lords


	Curtis Moorman
	20 December 2020

Sirens

We all feel pain!
But what is pain that is not physical but seen
in blackened faces, tortured minds,
glistening eyes that surely mean -
pain … emotional - heart wrenching, disbelieving,
coming from the aftermath to accompany the grieving,
where time - eternal time, decries to halt the mental strain,
though cannot steal the call to mind - but ease the awful pain.
And pain is real -
each time a call for help echoes through the open door,   
where the unknown is imagined - is there tragedy or not?
Therefore the pain returns - for it’s been felt before.

There is concern with every siren that alerts the road ahead.
Do I know them? Are they mates? Are they alive or dead?
So there is pain no matter who - police, fire or the ambulance,
for the victim - the wretched victim - could be a friend by chance.

Starry Night

Starry Night

There are moments in your life that will live in your heart forever
Moments that will take your breath away
Indelibly etched into your very soul.
And will never be forgotten.
Memorialized.

My first such moment was laying on my back at night
Looking up at the night sky in awe.
Taking in the wondrous splendor
Of the heavens above
Mesmerized

The band of the Milky Way stretched across the length of the sky
Blazing a trail of light as far as the eye could see
A myriad of stars too numerous to count
Brning into my retinas
Hypnotized

Although that night was so long ago I recall it so vividly
I can call to mind the awe it filled in me
If I live to be a hundred years old
I will never forget.
Crystalized.

For me those moments are food to nourish my soul
Such happy memories for when sadness calls
When I need to remind myself
It happened to me

Realized

There was no social media to share this wondrous moment with
No cellphone camera to record for future posterity
Only my minds eye to recapture it
And play it back again.
Memorized.

For eternity.

Crop Circles

Ancients’ cognizance of Circles “all be it” acquired
knowledge...understood through expression 
moving heaven to earth, hither to yon...
questions posited unceasingly, opposing thots
same side of incontrovertible proof felt not seen...
women sang songs reigning from the heavens 
regaling self and others bequeathed with stirrings
internal knowing, sounds chime of longing
women dancing, circling round and round
star’s patterned exactness...reflecting heaven...
movement roused by passion...prevailing wisdom 
carried forth by cellular division of another type,  
we don’t altogether call to mind why...
impending assembled structures of activation appear
Circles of old, Circles of new...always replying
marking me, marking you...will you join me in this
now new, Circling lives forever within you!

The Night Ligeia Died

THE NIGHT LIGEIA DIED
Out of the bleakest darkest memory
that I'd endowed to what must be
there came a burning to my mind
as cold as life to me.

For all the will I had, and how I tried,
to find a place my soul could hide
where I'd be safe from all alone;
short of my lunacy.

In all the secrets of my love's desire
that first showed with her love on fire
I never knew her burning heart
would take her life from me.

In mine own madness when she died away
the tears I shed were night and day
in search of where she might have gone
where life just doesn't see.

There's not a thought I didn't call to mind
as possibilities to find
the place she died into that way
and there, love might send me.

© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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