Eddying Poems | Examples

Denizens Of Her Domain

Mother Nature, divine and yet so whimsical
Her flowing streams fall warm, healing and abiding   
A darkened blue-green sea, maroon and sapphire shores,  
cradle us asleep, with your gentle waves 
harboring the dour rude awakenings
when eddying rapids currented by the tide
Consume the uncertainty and the lies of the day tearing the heart apart
Suspend judgment and attain tranquility of mind                                   
White light and red, filters a pink-tint, nebulous fringed rose gold
I’m graced in your stellar light, a cosmic pearl


Garnered from my poems:

Mother Me
Weeping Nude
The Ocean Beckons
Human Nature
Lissa Marie
Strayed Sheep
Tell It Like It Is
Self-Existent Light
Woven Worlds Of Alice Lidell
The Pursuit of Contentment

Strayed Sheep

Along the roads of grassy fields 
where thousands of sheep flit from
Astray from the flock, flouting,
fleeing with fear
blindly following.

Driven through the streets of London
at the Barnet fair to the farmers there.
But the way,     takes an insalubrious plot.
Sheer confusion along the countryside
sets in on the herd, then stray
when eddying rapids currented by the tide
and force of the streams give, taken  
to an endless frequent float  
for great distances steered,  stirred
while the timorous turn 'round. 
An endeavor to gain the place they set off
As along ancient grassy drove road lies,
weary shepherd and his  sheepdog.
Drovers, some    on the hoof

The sheep shall stray  
back to stay presently in Eden's garden
Jade-green grassy hills of harvest gold, 
and cerulean skies.

Seaweeds

eddying currents
in its churning funnel face
weeds swirl quivering

Haiku 8 - Haven

from over the sea
waves clash, turmoil eddying -
sailboats search haven

Tintagel Bridge

As I walk along the wooden boards
Flanked by firm railings, 
I wonder how they used to cross
From mainland to castle,
Back when the bridge was
Stone and roughly-hewn wood.

The waves crash upon the rocks below,
Tide eddying into Merlin’s Cave.
Did they risk wind and raging storm
To get across with a message for the king?
Did they shelter on the main land,
Waiting for calmness to invite them in?

Tintagel… the remains tell only a tiny,
Practical part of the story.
What of the myth, the rumours, the history?
What of the dealings in the western outpost
For trade and travellers from afar?
We can never know the legend’s truth.

The mystery draws 
Crowds to this centre
With magical depths and history.
I cross the sturdy bridge, 
Wanting more than quotidien reality
To live on in the rocks beneath my feet.

The romance of this mythical place
Stirs my heart to feel
A yearning, a longing,
To become more than just
A person, a visitor, a tourist-
To be one with the myth.

To dissolve my life of
Petty daily needs and wants,
To emerge, a warrior, a maiden,
A minstrel, a foreign trader,
Or a simple visitor to the 
Court of King Arthur.

Pirates Booty

I’m going to sea in a blueberry boat
my only concern is…..if it will float
down the quick stream ……into the moat

The sea is skim milk….don’t ask me why
a cheerio sun hangs high in the sky
and rock dwelling Skittles can’t fly…..but they try.

That tyrannical pirate….the Captain of Crunch
uses sugar and honey to urge his wild bunch
to stay in their seats…..raging seas afore lunch.

Thus with a slurping…… an eddying gulp
in the maw of a monster…..chewed to a pulp
I flow with the surge heading straight to the gulf.


©9.13/2019

Welcome to my random world Poetry Contest
Nina Parmenter sponsor

It Is Not My Voice

Her heart is big,
But it slowly beats quiet,
Fun filled moments fading into strangled memories,
Like springs falling into a valley.

She feels like singing a new song and writing poesy,
Before her lay important things looking insignificant,
Eddying like a familiar spirits,
Swinging her back and front like a pendulum.

She closes her eyes to visualize home, God and school,
Again, her reminiscent memories raise her spirit,
And falls her hope,
The threats of unfair and uncertain life,
And the lyrics from unfinished songs keep calling.

Under the desolate surface of the moon,
And tonight,
She hears a voice whispering words soothingly balmy,
Making her stronger than pain,
It is not my voice,
But it blazes the trail to better days with no more tears.

Skin Dive

I have swum
The limitless abyss
Of your eddying indigo eyes
And yet ...
There are other
Deep, dark boundaries to delve
Of the landscape, You
Just as enigmatic
And just ...
As warm.




~ 1st Place ~  in the "Late December 2018 Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.

Dancer

Eddying in a commotion of color, 
fall's dispensation of red, green and gold; 
blended with Zephyrs' mysterious rhythms, 
a stately ballet that never grows old. 

Spread 'cross the firmament planets are spinning, 
silently, cold and majestically clear; 
gliding through eons in preordained tempos, 
gracing the night sky all through the year. 

'Shining Light' at the "Birth of Terpsichore" 
a twelve-year old warms up and waits for her chance 
to show those judges just what this young girl can do, 
nothing means more than her passion for dance. 

She dreams of fame and of making a difference, 
the world is too large and her room is too small; 
she's too young yet for abstraction and symbol, 
in time she will grow, find her place in it all.

Solitude

Solitude, aloneness, quietude
Replenish the spirit
Calm the soul
Open mind's heart 
Spilling light into darkness
A milky puddling across time

Gather the wildflowers 
To your bosom
Join with kindred folk
Clasp hands
Listen to the echoes

What a mystery solitude 
Peopled with so many voices
Swirling and eddying they 
Reverberate and explode
Cracking open the quietude
Leaving each alone
In the midst of so much activity


KDK 2012, revised 2016

Dancer

Eddying in a commotion of color, 
fall's dispensation of red, green and gold;
blended with Zephyrs' mysterious rhythms,
an exquisite ballet that never grows old.

Spread 'cross the firmament planets are 
spinning, silently cold and majestically clear;
gliding through eons in pre-ordained tempos,
gracing the night sky all throughout the year.

'Shining Light' at the 'School of Terpsichore'  
a twelve-year old warms up and waits for her chance 
to show those judges just what this young girl can do, 
nothing means more than her passion for dance. 

She dreams of fame and of making a difference,
the world is too large and her room is too small.
She's too young yet for abstraction and symbol,
in time she'll grow, find her place in it all.

Seagulls

A prodigious flock of seagulls
float seemingly, effortlessly
on a winter frigid river
like miniature polar floes.
Their harsh wailing and squawking calls
are muffled by the roaring sound
of cascade from an old dam.
Their idiosyncratic moves
manifest aquatic prowess:
Their twirling, swirling, eddying
against the current as though fixed
to each molecule of water
until they rise from the surface
into winters late morning mist.

One Plus Three Equals One --

1 + 3 =1

This kitchen's one cup
one spoon
serves one man's fingers stirring
a dollop of cream

atop the counter
3 visiting ants
pass beneath a French Press
seeming separate
seeming alone
seeming aimless
wandering about
our mutual landscape

how barren the cold marble
for those so distant from the nest
that their seeking antennae never touch
never acknowledge one another
assuring reality's connection
all is well

perhaps
until inexhaustible solitude
accepts 1 + 3 = 1
the cup
the coffee
the swirling thinking will continue
stirring darkness to disappear
inviting light's eddying dawn
to reveal the way
patience willing

Dancer

" She danced the way it should be danced.
   And the way she wanted."

  -Raymond Carver


Eddying in a commotion of color, 
fall's dispensation of red, green and gold;
blended with Zephyrs' mysterious rhythms,
a stately ballet that never grows old.

Spread 'cross the firmament planets are spinning, 
silently cold and majestically clear;
gliding through eons in pre-ordained tempos,
gracing the night sky all throughout the year.

'Shining Light' at the 'School of Terpsichore' 
a twelve-year old warms up and waits for her chance 
to show those judges just what this young girl can do, 
nothing means more than her passion for dance. 

She dreams of fame and of making a difference,
the world is too large and her room is too small;
she's too young yet for abstraction and symbol,
in time she will grow, find her place in it all.

The First Time

Sounds will be sharper and keener,
and tastes have a fresh new appeal,
aromas will drift like the first breath of spring
and all colours be vivid and real; 
each of my senses will shiver and shift
in the wind like the eddying sand,
and I knew that my heart had at last found its haven  
the first time that I held your hand.

• Short Eddying Poems
• Famous Eddying Poems
• Best Eddying Poems
• Read Eddying Poems
• Long Eddying Poems
• Eddying Quotes