Crackles Poems | Examples

TIMELESS REFUGE

TIMELESS REFUGE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Weathered trees rise out of the earth, brushing against the sky.  The wind sends a shudder of movement through the branches causing the majestic trees to creak and groan as they sway.  In the distance is a cabin, timeworn and dilapidated. 

in the heart of woods
ancient cabin stands alone
whispers of time flow

its walls, worn by years
stories etched in every board
testament to life

roof, a patchwork quilt
of shingles weathered and worn
memories await

the windows, like eyes,
gazing out upon the world
silent witnesses

the fireplace crackles
warmth spreads through the chilly air
comfort, solitude

outside, the forest
whispers secrets to the wind
tales of days past

the time-worn cabin
endures, is steadfast and true
a timeless refuge

Eyes of the Rain

In the face of an early morning drizzle,
On a fireside earth-throne,
I sit and summon thoughts.
The firewood, red with the suppressed anger of
Smouldering fire,
Crackles constantly
Amid the paying of wages of serenity.

Thoughts and fascination cringe
My breath now pulsated by the throbs of wanton
Visions . . .

Invasion!
A gust of rain wrestles me down.
I stand, peering deeply into the grey, fussy
Band of wetness,
Where the eyes of rain met mine
In one quixotic moment.

Careless Moments

I should have grinned when morning came
Atop posts of gaping day, with lunatics
Humming dirges of a broken world.

I remained glued to my gloom.
Rising from the pit of hell, I held
Concupiscent cats hostage.

The course of their waning speed of flight
Harmed my precisions.
From a boanerges' point of view,

Fierce elocution dampened by grey voids of
Unassailable haunts cripple the badinage of
Myths celebrated at dawn's memorial.

I weep through the voice of an alcove's
Muted spirit, one grace, forlorn and dew-wet,
Re-christened at sable-draped ceremonies.

Haunted by such recurring whims of deliberate
Schisms by harridans, I crawl on both knees,
Filching webs atop crests of arachnids.

I should have waved siesta's flag at 3 P.M.
Lush vagaries of new-sprouted greens yield to the
Mockery of phlogiston,

Leaving behind banters from drunken laughters,
Crackles from prostituting fires, meek and ailing,
And hells of sweat from my aching head.

Naked Greed Meets Raw Power

    Electricity crackles in the air
    roller-coaster careening 
       off its track as silver trumpets blare

    Gangs teem and thrive in jungles 
    from Africa to American streets
        shells of bodies without heartbeats

    Naked greed meets raw power
    each devours the other
         ~ carcasses to recover

grateful to be of service

In the moonlight she held the amber planet
There were crackles but it held hope and love
Nothing was broken, it was a seasoned sage
A world where moonlight was welcomed
Kindness was honored and love was revered
The goddess held steady, balancing this world
Grateful to be of service

Lavender Licorice and Lemonade Lakes

You taste as if twilight were—
lavender swirling like smoke from the earth
licorice lingering with the full moon’s soft pull
a sweetness both dark and divine.

Your skin sparkles with starlight
electric and soft as moth wings.
We sip the pink sky
lemonade lakes cascade through our fingers
time unspools between our hands
while the past drinks from our open palms.

The air crackles with floating florets
each breath a promise, unspoken but heard.
If love were a color it'd be you—
violet and velvet
honey and slow-mountain dew
the universe holds its breath;
galaxies halt their ancient waltz
as they struggle to name us.

And if forever had a flavor
it would stain my tongue—
sweet, dark, endless—
a love so vast
even creation forgets what came before it.

We are the first poem ever written
and the last song left unsung
our love the verse that never fades—
Just like lavender licorice and lemonade lakes.

Touch

The fire crackles—I take the heat,
but my hands pass through my frozen skin.

Unraveling

Paralyzed by an unexplainable grip
Left side blanketed in weakness
Levels off brimming with dread
Countless questions lingering
No answers just hoping time helps

Waiting for silence to soften the edge
But the static still crackles in my head
Hands shake like awakening memories
A battle my body won’t let me forget

Counting the hours in shallow breaths
Tracing the fault lines beneath my skin
Between surrender and restless defiance
I wonder if balance will come crawling back

The Winter of Our Love

Day
Has passed   
Night shadows
Lurk in corners
Soft crackles the fire
Some sparkles like fireworks
Go up the chimney non-stop
Snuggled in a warm blanket~ rest  
Sleep my love, don't forget the magic
Of our true love even though winter's here

Star Gazing

       ( Star Gazing )

The night sky shines bright

As the stars shed their light.

Campfire crackles and smoke arises 

And cider boils over the fire.

As we explore the stars to our desire 

We look at the sky a little bit higher.

Sky of Fireflies

His sanguine spirit turns every firefly into a star.
—Arthur Conan Doyle

Sky of Fireflies

Might I return to the night, alone,
except for the pitter patter of rain,
except for the thunderbolt of fireworks,
somewhere in the distance, rather
close, yet unattainable, except by foot
or engine roar, through my forest
and over the hill, beyond the houses,
might I return to the night, alone.

On the deck, my extravaganza begins,
beyond my nose, my fingertips, the screen.
In July, a rampant light show, as if
stars rappelled just above the human heart.
This electrifying dominion, quite unexpected.

The earth, moistened and morose. Osmosis
of celebration and outlandish spectacle,
for an audience of one. Oh! How good God is!

Amidst crackles and whistles, the strobes,
of an army of fireflies, light up my backyard.
Curious as Alice, have I fallen into Wonderland?
I have a front row seat sans willows, comets
and Chrysanthemums, but the sky over
my sodden green moss is the epitome
of heaven on earth; His presence in the night.

Preceded By Thunder

Neon days are preceded by thunder.

Neon days didn’t warn me about success,
neon days are built from the struggle;

Neon days do not show your sacrifice,
neon days attract flies to your light;

Neons days never simply appear,
neon days are the result of grit;

Neon days color heat lighting lime,
neon days hot pink crackles the night;

Neon days no one sees the hard road,
neon days you must fight through the fog;

Neon days attract lazy poachers,
neon days are rudely disrupted;

Neon days tend to show off hard work,
neon days posers want just a piece;

Neon days there are vultures that wait,
neon days you must tend your garden;

Neon days just the strong are standing,
neon days you must fight to keep them;

Thunder is preceded by neon days.

Attachment

Love is not a word I’m familiar with.

I like to read a book by the fire
with hot cocoa or tea
fairies or dragons
the sound of crackles pulls me away 
into a space of inspiration and comfort.

Yet I don’t believe that I love it 
My like only goes so far

I like the food my mom prepares
with noodles or fish
fruits or veggies
the taste of citrus beacons me for more
to a plate filled with familial nostalgia.

Yet I don’t believe that I love it 
My like only goes so far

Love is not a word I’m familiar with
but the feel of your arms around me,
with your heartbeat and warmth, 
occupies my mind where nothing but you exists

The sound of your voice is soothing
with your warmhearted tone and laugh
it becomes a lullaby as I fall fast asleep 
 

Love is not a word I’m familiar with.

But somehow
for some reason
I love you

January Dragonflies

These wanderers defy winter's chill
    Suspended in the frosty air —
    I count the hours, lost in despair
Since carefree days we can't fulfill

My old radio crackles, weak
    Amidst the noise and static's hum —
    Remember how we'd twirl and drum
Beneath those moons on shores unique

Their wings recall our soaring dreams
    Through secret paths, time left behind —
    Before the world reshaped our mind
Before we changed like shifting streams

These beings brave the morning's bite
    Like echoes that refuse to die —
    I've kept your notes, can't say goodbye
To fill the emptiness of night

They flit across my window pane —
    These visitors who linger still
    Like slivers of our past that spill
Through shadows, bringing joy and pain

-

Post Advent

Green moon in a dirty sky,
snow drifting in,
a subliminal huff-huff,
of polar bears stalking.

Ice crackles, bewitched
caw-clawing crows
gather to sleep
amid bad dreams.

If we gaze too long,
a green sheen
smears stinging cheeks.

When making love
to the pillowing dark,
snarling monkey's chase
naked angels
across a gloaming night.

In red and white stripped socks
toes curl.
Phantasmagoric broomsticks
swish tinsel
from bleary eyes.

Later than predicted,
a deeper snow arrives.

Wooly hats flap sleepily
as we reach down
into their long-neglected nest.

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