Glanced Poems | Examples

My dream within a dream

surfing the bardo in deep trance
before me appeared the goat head
I glanced at Baphomet askance
afraid to be by his hand led
as he pointed out at five gates
where dreams within dreams hypnotise
domains where dark desire checkmates
our soul’s light which first ebbs then dies

on waking up from this dark dream
a line of thought occurred to me
on what if life is a thought stream
for here too soul’s light I don’t see
so deepening contemplation 
I paused in the vast vibrant void
poised therein in thought cessation
whence I saw soul’s light unalloyed

as pure awareness self-aware
drenched in bliss mists feeling complete
in a realm outside time and space 
I remained still there as a dare
aligned with love’s sublime bliss beat
whence beholding clearly God’s face
with His heartbeat I chose to pair
exchanging a playful love tweet
entwined with Him in close embrace

An Angels Glance

An angel glanced at me today
and as an angel's glance should be
it pierced my cloistered heart so deep
so ceased it for a moment's beat
and yet it also raced, this heart,
that angel owned since yet we met.
For whether 'tis the early dawn
or present clouded sunset days
my angel owns me with her glance

Public Clocks

At first his anger was hotter than July
Or, rather, he was plundered by the weight of
Sorrow —heavier than the ice of January;
The kind of stolid ice that thickened Niagara Falls
Like frozen soup.
He was tall and lissome, bespectacled, in
Dark suits, a brown hat, worn-out shoes of fraternity.
A folded umbrella accompanied him like a touring child.
No wristwatch.
He doesn’t wear them.
Asked why, he normally replies, “There are many public clocks”.
Stocks have plunged
Every expert he asked shared the same opinion?
Stocks are like seesaws —
They rise and fall.
Before then he had assumed that “rise-and-fall”
Was only for dictators,
And of course empires.
And every public clock he glanced up at
Had the same opinion on time? it ticks away,
Slowly, but perfectly.
And if you want to do time,
Then hurry over life importunately.

I saw the world through blood

I was looking at the world through my eyes,
curious to see its parallel side.

I had grief because I was seeing it through blood,
but as I heard my praises and insults,
glanced over the beautiful mountains
and growing poverty,

that became my biggest pride —
to witness the world like this.

But when my hand started to grow cold
from the pain and suffering,
I saw the blood was in my hand.

Night of the James Taylor Concert during Freshman Year at College

My friend most beautiful
sat shoulder to shoulder with me
after the lights went low
and the show began.

We took in ballad after ballad
the tender voice hour after hour
and a spell was cast.

The song of Don’t Let Me Be Lonely Tonight
spoke to me— I could almost cry.

I glanced at her
and she looked straight ahead.

This was the night I wanted for months
although we had some casual dates

o the times when I pleaded for more

but tonight she was so tender
when I put my arm around her shoulder.

I knew the night was good for her
when we stepped out the elevator
onto her dormitory floor
and the music resonated in my mind.

The taste of her kiss was so sweet
on that special night.

She must have known
it was our last.

Filthy Shakespear’

Indeed dear readers, there is such a book.. Yet
In my deepest boredom, I have never looked.’
Foresooth and in truth; it’s been fifty years.?since
I glanced in his direction..I’ve no desire now to
Subject any ears’ though they be of barley.?
Or even corn.. I bind to no disputed lyric 
Origens I’d druther indeed be forelorn. Cast on
An isle barren and sad.. Than laud disputed
Lyrics if you like your truth’s to be had.?

The Weather Forecast

He breezed in after a whirlwind tour of the local pubs.
Feeling muggy, he drifted up the stairs like a silent mist, 
but was greeted with an isobar across the back of the head.

An icy stare froze him to the spot, followed by a maelstrom of words 
that bounced off the walls, pounding him like giant hailstones.

Then fighting against a hurricane he slipped in a pool of hate
He glanced up to see her chest swelling, then with an avalanche
Of abuse she predicted a cold front coming in…

GH6615

He captured her charm, serenity, and intelligence in his work. He frequently glanced from the canvas to her face. Asking her not to smile was like asking her not to breathe; patience wasn’t her strong suit.

What’s in a smile? Beauty, and everything! It was a shame that it didn’t showcase a young woman in her prime, the one everyone came to know and love. Her strong features and openness transcended the warmth of a morning rose blooming in spring.

Instead, he painted an autumn theme rather than the warmth of spring. The shape of her face and the curve of her lips were striking, yet they seemed inadequate for someone destined to be a future queen.

That was how I captured him while he slept. That was two years ago. He never contributed anything meaningful to our relationship. Was it love, or was it compassion? I remember those two years well. I told him I would forever love him. What did he do? He sold the link to our happiness. He sold the bike, GH 6615.

Those two years were a peaceful interlude for us, a reminder that what’s in a smile is not always what we think it is. 
If I were a carpenter and you were a lady,

Carbon dating

I'd been sleeping poorly what with my agonies
needed an early morning nap but
at a ratatatat on the front door I jerked awake and
obediently open up, a respectable couple not
this time trying to get me to switch my energy supplier or
join the young communists but
'We're from The Sun'
asking me if I had any thoughts on the 'Love Island House'

Excuse me what

She mentioned a house number and I blearily
glanced across the road at
the house recently painted in blue and pink
mumbling, I really don't care about it
'Could we use your name'
but I'm not deranged enough to give them that, and

It turns out it wasn't the house opposite but further along
beyond my eyeline,
I'd seen it tarted up with lights
seems it's been called out by a disgruntled neighbour
"The house is lit up like a building from Las Vegas"
and The Sun was frothing at the thought
of a Love Island related story and bothered me
Lee Holloway Towers in his fretful slumbers

Not my problem baby and
I will never sleep again

A Friend

Amidst the clouds in my head
I stood on the edge of the cliff
I shouted one last time
Yet no one arrived

My heart filled with grief
I was about to take a step back
When a voice ringed in my ears
The sweet voice I was used to hear
 
She sat in the front row
Her chocolate brown skin reminded me of the earth
She glanced at me once perhaps she was shy
An introvert I thought

Later I  found out the similarities we shared
We were bonded my friendship
And the rest lies in history

She was there with me
In times of joy and sadness
Her free self 
That I watched from close

When I was nervous or so was she
we held hands tightly
I wish to continue such a friendship
That will always remain a part of me

The Decrepit Mirror's Reflection

I glanced into the broken mirror, 
The fragments, now separated by cracks, 
Like islands by a river, each holding a piece of myself, 
And I, a lamenting boatman, lost in the very waters in between. 
On one island, I saw the old river bank, by the daffodils, 
Where we sat and played and sang songs of youth, 
The river flows the same and daffodils sway still, 
But now, it cherishes faces unknown, songs unheard. 
As I tried in despair to bloom again the yesternight's flower, 
A thought bloomed instead, a haunting thought indeed, 
That the soil had already been buried in the dust
And the wind had already departed to the distant lands. 
And here I stay, a lamenting boatman, lost in between, 
Too decrepit to hold on to the yesternight's flower, 
I once again glanced into the broken mirror, 
And I see my true self......... as broken.

grocery

glanced at grocery list
bananas.....
nature's recipe

I found a crack in the sky

I found a crack in the sky

At midnight, I looked up
And as usual 
There was stars decorating
The dark blue sea above

But I caught it
I saw a thin line, just north of the moon
And as I concentrated,
I could see what was beyond

I saw the galaxy
The stars, the planets
And realized there were more than eight

And I swore I saw a human
Waving at me
From one of the unseen planets
Up above

I saw more than our solar system
I saw the universe
In its entirety

Its vastness was enough to crush me
Making me realize
How insignificant I really was

Blue, red, orange, and colors I couldn't identify
I spotted them in streaks across the cosmos

Then suddenly I remembered
I was still on earth
And glanced at the earth's sky

It was turning into dawn
With pink clouds introducing the sun

I tried to look back at the crack
But it had closed up

words on the wind

Sunny days
With a slight breeze,
And the aura of summer
Coming our way.
I stood beside you,
And glanced at you—
At your chestnut eyes.

An ideal time to speak,
Those words that
Quieted before they took form.

I whispered them
As you turned and walked away,
And as my footsteps
Filled the silence,
The words were carried by the breeze.

I wonder who the wind will give them to next.

morning was sadder than april

morning was sadder than april


 he looked at his clock and calendar at the same time
 then glanced back at april before it ended
 and ahead to may before it had begun.
 
 there were no flowers spraying color or fragrance…
 no breeze to push the clouds along
 and no promise of hope beyond the horizon.
 
 it was morning and morning was sadder than all of april
 —nowhere to turn, nowhere to hide—
 just time—minutes really—before he had to go.
 
 there were no birds in the sky on a day such as this…
 third monday—april now too far gone—
 yet may too far away.
 
 morning was sadder than all of april
 and he had chosen to watch as april surrendered it’s place
 to the delegation of memories.
 
 morning pushed hard on the clouds,
 moving quieter than the silence of daybreak,
 waiting like a vagrant at a bus depot and with less hope for kindness.
 
 there were no flowers spraying color or fragrance across the countryside…
 and no promise of hope beyond the horizon.
 morning was sadder than all of april 
 and only fragments of memories remained

tolbert

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