Hollows Poems | Examples

hollows

In the hollows of the night
I lie and face the stars, the things behind the veil
In dreams, I turn from things afar; I feel my soul quake 
In the hallows of my night, there in a bar
The shadows man watches, the night pools
In hallows of my heart, I lie and face the stars
The universes mass, something’s floating
Event horizon fading, I’m lying in the automated 
Autumn’s breeze, things beyond 
A nightmares gallop, skeletal things ride upon
In the hollows of the night, there is a bar
Shadows walk in the neon rain
In the shallows of my soul
I feel my soul break
Creation amasses along horizons, seems
In the autumn breeze 
Automatic and serene!

Hillbilly Hollows

Down in Hillbilly Hollow, under the silver moon,
Rustlin' leaves and hootin' owls, playin' a country tune.
Haystacks high, and the creek runs low,
Life rolls by, nice and slow.
Dirt road windin', bend to bend,
Kin and friends 'round every end.
Old guitars strummin', hear the sound,
Laughter echoes, love abounds.
Barefoot dances, by the old barn door,
Stories told, of legends yore.
In Hillbilly Hollow, hearts are full,
Under starlit nights, life's beautiful.

The Deathly Hollows

Angry eyes lurk in the forest

Deep within the Deathly Hollows 

With unsuspected fervency

And malevolence it closely follows 

An apparition from the grave

A vision from nightmarish dreams

With nimble hands that quickly throttles

And icy fingers that stifles screams

None who enters survives this realm

So menacing and devoid of light 

In the Deathly Hollows murky mist

Still is the air and cold is the night

Hollows

Night filters sight and sound
into separate caves of awareness,
Owls and nightjar's duet
in different tunnels of time.

For generations
the forest has gathered here,
it has its own language,
one rooted through layers
of nocturnal sentience.

In the harkening cabin 
sounds interface,
lull mind and ears,
into imaginary auditoriums.

Subliminal arboreal words
read me to sleep -
thoughts rustle like
whispering leaves.

Hollows Swell and Labor

A desolate shore reaches,
its gritty scree taunts
a green and tumbling sea.

Breakers slap an
umpteenth juncture.

Kelp sea pods dilate,
foam swirls in the shingle,
barren wombs drink.

Krill churns out
of a sandy dross.

Waves carry their children away.

Dancing Water Hollows

DANCING   WATER  HOLLOWS


The canal water endlessly  moving  from passing  boats 
Creates not waves  but dancing hollows between, 
Moving like  countless competitors in a dance hall
Swirling around  in  kaleidoscopic color.

Hollows waltzing in time to their internal rhythms
In a  constant irregular flux of shapes and positions,
What geometric science calls hyperbolic paraboloids
In countless watery reflections.  Dancing  figures  of eight.

Each with the same rainbow of colors  on its edges,
Red   and   yellow and always with green  on the outside,
Lliving reflected imitations of  the church colors above.
Yet each is different. Liquidly mobile with endless variety. 

God’s  informal dance has no  rules, just beauty :
Colorful shapes taken momentarily 
By wave-hollows. Giant  living amoebas  with green edges, 
And seen with  His heavenly microscope.  


17   April  2021
…………………………………………………………………..


NOTE   
Next time you are looking into a river or lake   with reflections  between the   waves, look carefully at the reflections and    see how they are arranged   by nature into beautiful patterns.

All Hollows Eve

Gravestones in the park
Scary place when its dark
Empty plots marked by string
Morbid figures trying to sing
Pretty flowers dead or trying
Grace the path on which their lying
Scripted rocks with glowing paints
Must not be read if hearts are faint

withered corpses dance around
acting like their little clowns
comical yet scary too
watching the dead say goodbye to you
creepy vermin upon the plot
waiting for the next corpse to drop

swirls of fog blocking view
keeps you wondering what corpses do
so entranced by the game they play
leaves you lost, yet afraid to say


digging shovels stand erect
positioned so as to protect
mounds of dirt piled 6ft high
to bury the corpses when they die
because wild wolves like tasty bones
and drag corpse souls far from home

so as we know and always will
unburied bones are never still

Halloween  Challenge Poetry Contest
Emile Pinet
11/02/2020

All Hollows Eve

Sitting in the parking lot
	in my truck just wondering
wondering what this day I’ll see
	my coworkers and what they’ll be

many today do costumes wear
	reflecting what they may not be
hidden desires running free
	given liberty on this day

a police woman do I see
	as skin tight uniform of bright blue
with the skirt so very short
	bright brass buttons call to me

around the corner in the breakroom
	wonder woman do I see
with assets so exposed
	heart attacks in older men

Minnie mouse does scurry by
	big black ears and tail so thin
rushing by down the hall
	very quickly lost from sight

a vampire too soon appear
	Cape of black but bright red hair
flowing sleeves with fancy cuffs
	going to the microwaves

skeleton of glowing green
	bones that rattle so fiercely
sitting down food to eat
	and I wonder what I will see

candy flows everywhere
	chocolate coated everything
endless calories without need
	with fond abandoned are consumed

as I sit with pen and write
	my Muse is flittering somewhere nearby 
ideas thrown upon the breeze
	and I wonder what to write

Ballad of the Hollows

Woe the few brave
That fear cowered behind
Waiting to deprave
Till shots rung
Viewed as the addled
We are engulfed
We are only
The silhouette of our substance
We have been formed crudely
By the circumscribe of tyrants
But we will not be deterred
The restrictors will not dilute the glory
Of those few brave who rebuked
our transgressors 
We are caged
Like animals we stalk
But we are not the egregious they seek
All they are the ones unperturbed
By their forfeited ethical standing
Soldiers that never atoned
For their precarious standing 
In the voluptuous kingdom come
Yet we are indefatigable
Yet we will not forget

October 9th,2019
"Give Me Your Best New Poem" sponsored by Emile Pinet

The Hollows

grand towering limbs 
reach to meet
branches a flourishing keep
twigs to trunks create
a stretch to breathe
crooked seedlings bow in need
live to die, and sow to reap 
sewn together a needle to seam
hand to cheek
a means plunges deep 
moves a steady pulse to bleed
seeping shallows underneath
beating tree to tree 
a hollow quant and sweet

free will drives the darkness 
a gesture to greet 
the animal unseen
shadows join in to deceive 
the passerby and inbetweens
a hunter to a prey
the profile of trees  
dazed in the headlight beams
outline reality as a thief 
stealing moments 
yet to be 
the forgotten trinkets  
hang from trees

a keepsake for a figurine 
trapped beads concede
to a broken string
fall along the wayside 
finding hope is still free 
playing content in the wind 
chasing tossed debris
gathering leaves 
one by on they fall weak
remnant colors in deceit 
raise to a scatter 
a boundless retreat
content to repeat 
the redeeming sweep


Terry D’Arcy-Ryan

Last Dance In the Hollows

When the morning sun glows pale
  and shadow rays slink along the trails
the autumn leaves turn brown
  and one by one fall dry upon the ground;
there is found the well worn paths
  scurry summer creatures quick and fast
readying a winter's nest or burrow
  to rest and sleep safe through tomorrow.
Winters cold and chill
  fall prey to slumber's pill
here warm, hot summers fade away
  and fruit and flowers can no longer stay.
Bee and butterfly have disappeared
  and deep blue skies are no longer clear;
It is hard to see the pale yellowed sun
  as both spring and summer are undone
with all that remains are cold temps sustained
  by cloudy grays as winter gains.
Few lay claim to these now barren lands
  with dried grass and naked trees that stand,
there in the pale glows of light
 only cricket songs soften in the oncoming night.
A full bright harvest moon
 glow brilliant as midnight looms
and a walk in the casting shadows
 now comes the last dance in the hallows.

Town of Hollows

She sees beings resembling her,
in the form of flesh, bones, and blood,
as they criss-cross along the streets,
their talks and laughter echoing inside them,
for they don't have feelings occupying
their hearts.
She's afraid of touching their hearts,
for they might break or shatter,
because they are not familiar to the energetic
impact of emotions.
"Handle With Care" is written on their faces,
every time a song or story reminds them
how hollow they are in the inside.....

Where Hollows Go

I want to go where hollows go
and sink into the earth;
where love retreats to be enfolded
with itself, forever home.

I listen for the stillness,
climb the crags of discontent,
direct my body and my heart
above the wars of make-believe
and to the real ascendant joy
of everlasting peace.

It is our destiny, you know.
Its power is unassailable,
our refuge ever there. It is
my sanity, my god-source,
raison d'etre of the being
I elect.  And when I wish you peace,
the gods will smile, for they,
too brood and writhe within--
the process of the ages 
unbeginning and
without an end.

"There is no way to peace," *he said;
"Peace is the way."
      ~
*A.J. Muste
(Muste is the founder of our most historic peace organization)

Depths of the Hollows

In the depths of the hollows
The prominent eye watches
It sees what goes on around
Knows the hearts of man

Russell Sivey

From the Hollows

“this poem is not about what is written, but what is not written…”

You bring me back to 
Life gently, with small doses
Of light airy love,
Like butterfly tugs.
The gray nothing recedes to
Blooming new color.

Soon you’re my lover.
With overwhelming passion
You shatter the spell. 
I can feel myself
Recovering with each touch,
And primitive rush.
 

7/1/11

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