Two carbon entities
exhale green miasmas
and throttle white throats
in a noose of iron.
The cored captives
diaphanous and rasping
plummet to frightful circles
where sardonic wraiths
gnarl wingèd flesh
in screeching packs
as time loops reverberate
manic and mindless.
Behind silvery gray animus clouds, the moon does hide.
The night does cry; its heartbeat rise and falls, like the tide.
Celestial, sleepless, unbending, cold night gathered overhead,
Veiling eerie shadows, eternal time with hideous guise, dread.
Idle and dank, surrounded by broken-down fencing and gnarl skeletal tree,
A grave “No TRESPASSING” sign forbidding entry to the beastly;
Hangs warding off the unwanted and those had doubts,
Only spiders spurred, floating sticky secure line hidden hereabouts.
Wind weaves through mangled limbs with howls, and spies embed
A gaunt, ghostly, hollow, hooded man, sickle in hand, in its stead;
Reaping of life, lifting his black haunting mound shroud a ted.
Condemned, refusing to release its ghostly dead.
Strain, howling, a full moon he stands, searchingly ahead;
Pain screams rip from his throat, bones, and soft tissue bled.
A stir in the air dares to forsake, on, as he falls to his knees, unfed.
Conned the night a moment longer, blood it did crave, then fled.
Pristine the canvas displayed before all
Begging color and stroke, a master's mind
Brush kisses pallete, intentions will fall
Pulse soars, paint flies, never leaves her behind
Lifetimes he progressed, alone and some not
Longing and barking for a soul his kin
Hunting and seeking, heartsick, for his lot
Familiar she is, something sharpend within
Teeth gnashing and gnarl grasping at his skin
A wild reunion, fangs gift, blood running
Embracing carnage and in love again
Hunter's moon, super, alive and howling
Never again part their fierce wilding ways
On mountains they rule in most just of days
A thought flew by
I tried to snatch it
But from the air
I just could not grab it
Next floats an image
along the banks of my brain
Yet when I try to recall it
it slips down the drain
Then ‘fore my eyes a rainstorm
furious its pellets, slit-slanted its form --
O, to trap her lightning in a bottle
yet though I lunge, she's going full throttle…
Seems I just haven’t much luck
with fanciful visions I would pluck
My lithe and limber fingers gnarl up…
Stop saying ‘Timber’ ~ they’re stuck
I see gulls gliding in the air.
I watch them landing down in pair.
All around me is the sea.
I see waves beating on the shore.
I hear them gnarl and roar.
I see Dolphins in the vast expanse.
I see them swim and dance.
I see ships sailing over waters wide.
I watch them quiver and glide.
I see shells strewn on the beach.
I pick up all that is within my reach.
I see children of my age sit and play.
Occasionally shouting ‘hooray’!
I see with every wave, a jet of spray.
They drench me as they come in sway.
I see waves rising high.
They seem to reach up to the sky.
All around me is the sea!
_______________________
March. 29.2023
~ Placed First~
Children Sing to Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Eve Roper
Who are they? The oaks asked, their roots in a gnarl.
They are the Halloween cats, we replied with a snarl.
They are prissy and persnickety and they think they’re all that.
Well that’s a typical attitude the oaks said, for a Halloween cat.
a red sunset lights the sky
as if over Dante's damned inferno
fierce fiery colours lashing out
across the horizon's jagged ridge
the fangs, they gnarl and menace
they growl at another day
that sadly brings about
more shame than good
but the determined live
to fight another day
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on March 22, 2022 for contest FORM J - JUST WRITE ME A NEW POEM POETRY sponsored by CONSTANCE LA FRANCE - RANKED 3RD
tall among rich loosen soil
scent slight quaver throughout spoiled
sunshine fields, warm smiles it yields
milk pearls trickle drip on silk
nature whispers season turn
tall among rich loosen soil
leaves lay face downward unturned
gnarl old tree kneels its amber
beetle strength squirms in its murk
darkness abandons the moon
curled up in heavens warm croon
tall among rich loosen soil
happiest hours unrevealed
7/23/2021
She had many sad stories,
they were filed away, labeled,
color coded;
tales presented as apocryphal bibles.
He would listen as she pulled them out
of her droning breast,
intoned then as if reciting
poetry to an acolyte sponge.
Her stories festered the air
with pitiful sorrows,
scratched yet more stigmata
upon hide-bound woes.
White paper moths would fly up to his eyes
as if to illustrate her narratives;
tissue thin, he would see within them
the many skeletons of her living ghosts,
bones free now of all minerality,
fish-wet and wriggling
in the gel of a long preserved plasma.
He often closed his ears
to make his lips numb. The nasal gnarl
of her broken voice
coated his tongue with sticky commiserations,
a jejune sympathy
that had the texture of mildewed goatskin.
Her words mechanically ticked off
every injustice and persecution
ever heaped upon a martyred mind.
Eventually though, her deep well of mopes
dried to a blubber of sighs.
Then all those emaciated moths
would flutter around her
anointing her echoing skull
with a seeping urine-like substance
she called love.
Too long I sleep,
Only darkness I see;
Blackened, my eyes,
Blinded, I rise.
Too long I sleep,
How forgotten the world is,
How memories faded (in depth),
Like butter, it is melting,
The very life and routine, it's sickening.
Now, I rise from my slumber,
Beware, my friends, the lions awake;
Search, gnarl, scavenge everything,
For rights, sights; fight with everything,
Wage your life; future is yours to take.
At the enthralled hour of All Hallow's Eve,
the night in frenzy clangour turns ghostly gray.
Billowing clouds slowly swirl in anger
round the formidable, full mysterious blood-red moon.
The eternal night ebbs with growling sounds,
prowling into thickening hours of darkness.
Chill damp dense fog lazily wavers low,
stalking above the autumn trees turned red and gold.
Tenebrous gloominess brought brooding shadows,
idle and dank, adjoined by broken down fencing
and gnarl skeletal tree boughs, silhouettes weaving
like marionettes against the full Halloween moon.
9/24/2019
dark
uproot
sunnier
kindred oak trees
yield
gnarl
noble
an ageless
reverent yet
large
3/17/2019
He walked into my office, business in hand,
In denim baggy overalls, a plaid shirt, white painters cap,
and grandpa's old white leather orthopedic shoes.
If I ever get to the ripe old age of 88,
I want to be this lone wolf silhouette of a man.
A slow gait with frailty of movement.
Each step carefully orchestrated and contemplated.
Making one worry the next may become a fall.
But he moves on without even a stumble.
Steadfast stature and posture braced on any lowly perch.
Outer coat showing gaps of missing muscle and mass.
Paws and face forlornly exposed with past battles scorned.
All affairs in perfect order, the next move oft anticipated.
Irises glossy white shadowed with blue wisdom and mystery.
Draped with curtains and folds boldly saying "I am."
Negotiations begin with silence in wait of movement.
Tail wagging intently, teeth exposed only when he smiles.
No bite to his bark, he needn't growl nor gnarl.
Few words, saying only what needs to be heard.
Walking away after a handshake, flash of teeth, and a wink.
09/12/17
The Old Redbud Tree
There is a gnarled redbud left standing,
It blossomed pink year after year;
Four fused trunks grew from its base,
Its heart-shaped leaves said “dear.”
A new branch grew from one, making five,
The little tree was oh, so proud of its size,
And for decades it did healthy look,
Until one year one branch snapped and died.
It seemed to cry with its new-found gnarl,
But soldiered on with only four.
Another branch bent its head and broke,
Then fell to its earthly floor.
Now there were three and twisted they,
Its heart-shaped leaves near gone,
The wind blew two from the old redbud tree,
Now one reaches lonely for the sun.
Halloween
Haunting monsters roam on an October Halloween spooky night
As munchkin stroll dress in their costumes that fright
Large carved pumpkins laugh as inside candles flicker bright
Lifeless lackadaisical zombies walk the street on sight, ghost in white
Occasional Owl hoot as monsters howl in the darkness plight
Witches on broomstick, Warlocks wrapped in black capes, before day light
Enchanting the moon. Spiders that bite, weaving sticky webs that stick-tight
Eerie gravestones and casket lids that open yelling "Boooo…."at midnight
Night ebbs with jumpin sounds of trick-or treat, ghost, goblins dance in delight
~
Naughty black feline stepping its paws nonchalantly teasing the dog
~
Nonplussed decrepit two- story haunted house
Idle and dank surrounded by broken down fencing and gnarl skeletal tree boughs
Grave “No TRESPASSING” sign forbidding entry for even a mouse
Hangs warding off the unwanted and those that had doubts
Tenebrous gloom brought brooding shadows around the house
10/13/2016
Children Story
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.