Long Exhausted Poems
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End seeking, energy’s leaking;
see ye not, God at us peeking?
Is not beauteous, blissful moon,
from vagaries of life immune?
The outer world holds no allure,
for love alone’s the only cure;
bliss beats rise, in rapture we swoon,
from vagaries of life immune.
A simple shift from head to heart,
allows bliss ignition to start;
our heart expands, like a balloon,
from vagaries of life immune.
Free from overthinking disease,
presence flows like the morning breeze;
caress divine hums a soft tune,
from vagaries of life immune.
For far too long we’ve played with fire;
our soul’s exhausted and we tire,
so to call of love we attune,
from vagaries of life immune.
To know that God and we are one,
all we do is just come undone;
each breath a moment opportune,
from vagaries of life immune.
Weekends go fast
Time is a curve
And if you drive a car
Watch out you don’t swerve
Watch out you don’t swerve
When you come ‘round the bend
‘cause you been holdin’ back Sunday again
Death and dishonor –
All those ugly words
Always hovering closer
Like malevolent birds
The raven is rapping
Send the dove instead
While you’re holdin’ back Sunday again
Sweet mother mercy
An angel of grace
I imagine her touch
I envision her face
She’s so damn pretty
And she wants to be friends
But I’m holdin’ back Sunday again
Friday, she sweet as cocaine
And Saturday is hot to trot
By the time I get to Sunday,
I'll have finished everything that I got
The night is exhausted
The morning has won
There’s a restless magic
In things left undone
Progress is yours
But that all depends
If you been holdin’ back Sunday again
The priests and poets
And the ghosts from the past
Still stagger nightly
‘cross broken glass
I would give anything
To be one of those men
And not just try to hold back Sunday again.
The Gift Of Winter
When Winter brings old seasons to their ends
and plans a rest for Spring and Summer trends,
we're eased by lovely scenes that Autumn sends,
while Winter puts to sleep those retirees
of brittle vines and leafless, naked trees,
exhausted roots and bulbs, with expertise.
The drab gray scenes will brighten in degrees
when layered white with spread of pristine snow
that purifies and moistens ground below,
where life, like 'sleeping beauty', waits to grow.
When Winter has achieved her last plateau,
she nudges Spring to wake and take the stage.
But while the sleeping ground does not engage
in life-filled days, our Winter does upstage
with beauty of her wonderland onstage;
snow-covered limbs and hills of velvet white
that leaves us breathless at their very sight,
as sunbeams glisten and reflect the light.
This gift she offers as her own delight,
when Winter brings old seasons to their ends.
Sandra M. Haight
~9th Place~
Premiere Contest: Impress Me With A New Poem
Sponsor: SKAT A
Judged: 01/17/2018
~1st Place~
Contest: Rhyme Time III
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 12/25/2017
Rules of Previous Contest: FIVE stanzas using this rhyme scheme:
STANZA 1: A-A-A-B STANZA 2: B-B-B-C STANZA 3: C-C-C-D
STANZA 4: D-D-D-E STANZA 5: E-E-E-A
5th Stanza: Last line must be the exact same sentence as first line in 1st Stanza
I’m a man whose tired and worn
Empty and dead on my feet,
Petered out, played out, pooped and torn
Burn out, broke down and beat.
Drowsy, droopy, drooping drained
Dog tired, done in, done for,
Exasperated, enervated empty faint
Overtaxed, overworked and bored
Sick of, sleepy, spent and stale
Haggard, run down, all in
Consumed, collapsing, asleep, annoyed
Exhausted, bygone and barren
Ramshackle, rickety, run-down and frail
Bedraggled, broken-down and creaky
Threadbare, tottering, tired and used
Feeble, fragile and flimsy
Out of shape, out of gas, done in and feeble
Gone to seed, soft, incapacitated
Listless, washed out, weakened, on the ropes
Undermined, fatigued, prostrated.
Discontented, dissatisfied, tacky and dull
Jaded, glum and gloomy
Sick and tired, up to here, driveling, drab
Sated, down and weary
Befuddled, unsteady, wobbly and faint
Pallid, pale and lean
Stupefied, staggering, slaphappy, subdued
Oh damn I got to go pee.
Honey Glaze Bun
A herd of hoof ran across her back
Her mind drifting into slumber
Her midnights rendezvous became dangerous acts
while the itinerant
Slept in every alley on Delaney Street
An exhausted prosecutor
Release her back to the cruelty of the dark street
Where broken lamps on
The Great White Way generates
Little or no heat
And the deafening sound of the siren
Kept her awake
.
Until the blonde blue eye stranger pulled up
In a dark limousine rolled down the window
And whispered
“Hello honey bun
Come on in
Your place or mine
Let’s be discreet.
Half a mile down the dark road
The hooded stranger
Poetry became a reality
An old Shakespearean
Surface
Let not my love be called idolatry,
………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
She has humiliating lives have been exhausted in repenting
countless of her contribution is of no value , even sacrificing
humiliation hurting her heart as like as knife again and again
she is deadly silent even bloody tears come out in pain.
Despite that silence, they kept hitting in an inhuman way
they are shameless and brutal, women are sinking today.
They physically asulting her awfully; to set their reign
to keep her down they stabs her with spike net again and again.
They are in the guise of devils in the corners of society like vultures
they conspire day and night, even in their dreams, tis their cultures.
Her body has become afflicted with that poisonous paw
the flames of the paw spreading out away like the arrow.
Her tender heart has broken and she is alone
there is no other way but to war anger to shown
so, she is mourn. (to be continued)
Distantly wandering ~ a meadow-vast lake
Refusing to let the consumption of my heart break
Icy cold tears frost over my face & cheeks
Being lost for weeks and for weeks
Broken down ambition ~ too weak to fight
Suddenly she appears like an angel in my life
Opening the reality of a bond between girls
Determined to create a relationship that unfurls
Aimlessly waiting for years for her soul
And craving the right girl to rock-n-roll
Possessing her thoughts, body, and mind
I think I found you, baby, this time
Exhausted from search and it be nothing but fight
Finally found a woman as a possible wife
Golden and glowing ~ she inhabits my body
With limitless ways to make her happy and naughty
Be responsible to care for her ~ now that she's mine
It's been an unpleasant search ~ now it is time
To live by my side in a big world of us
Off the bat we've succeeded our series of trust
To hold her naked some days through the night
In my head bursting bright sparks of light
Kissing her lips and holding her waist
Feeling her warmth ~ memorizing her taste
Protection from the unworthy who will try and take my place
So many memories to create ~ not a second to waste
‘Show me God’, said the atheist
‘Here, in the now’, he did insist
‘Else admit, randomness of fate’
Taking the gauntlet, here’s the gist
Desires entice, we take the bait
It’s a rat race, so who’ll wait
Bemused, we ask not, who we are
Far cry it seems, is heaven’s gate
Looking back at life, lived so far
With fears and desires, we did spar
Joy and suffering, both fleeting
Permanent joy, too high a bar
We see form debilitating
Life fleeting and time’s a wasting
So resting thought, enter silence
Exhausted of thus oscillating
Arousing inner sentience
Rekindling innate innocence
We’re charged with bliss throbs in fullness
Revealing soul’s luminescence
One with oneness, in blissfulness
In continuum of stillness
Ego shorn, we become twice born
Transmuted is our awareness
Hark in our heart, the soundless horn
God in-dwells form that we adorn
God alone is, love His essence
Truth’s tong, plucks out ignorance thorn
17-November-2021
Soul poetry contest
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
The tabby slinkily strutted across the yard
fresh kill held loosely in diamond teeth;
a turtle dove, its tiny head bobbing,
to the lazy rhythm of the loping cat.
A flash of pink spangled collar
around a plump, too fleshy neck
bears witness to a home;
domestication of a sort.
Still warm; the feathers barely ruffled
the offering limpidly dropped with pride
onto soft white cushions of a couch
will be repaid with loving words, treats,
a hand gliding along a soft arched back.
The cat, again among familiar things
will guiltless drowse, exhausted
from the day's first kill.
The dove will rot; its putrefying body
trashed among the other scourings.
Two hatchlings with gaping yellow beaks
wait vainly; abandoned, they too will die.
The cat's companion tends the feeder,
enjoying morning birdsong in her garden.
Turtle doves, red-listed birds,
now, three fewer.
...When he awoke, she stood by his side,
pointing down at him with his shinny Colt,
said,”You’ve just prolonged the pain that I’m in,
now stop following me, you damn dolt!”
With that she stomped off across the prairie,
he watched as she grew smaller in his view,
Cole shrugged and had a leisurely breakfast,
then mounted up his horse to pursue.
When he caught up with her he started talking,
of his future farm and what he would build,
how he’d make a cabin and plant potatoes,
that there would be plentiful game to kill.
He would ramble about his long-term plans,
a big house with a wrap-around porch,
clearing fields so he could plant more acres,
and a large barn to keep safe his horse.
The woman would just keep trudging on,
as the shadows grew long she would get weak,
in her delirium Cole would give her food,
and then the whole cycle would repeat.
For four days this just went on and on,
until they drew within sight on the Rockies,
and beneath those grey and frosted peaks,
the sun-burnt woman just dropped to her knees.
She let out a pained, heat-rending wail,
and it brought relief to Cole’s tired eyes,
people resigned to death didn’t cry like that,
you have something still living inside.
Cole leapt off his horse, ran to her side,
and wrapped her up safely in his arms.
He held her in silence as she left go,
no more words of the future and his farm.
She cried out her pain for half an hour,
before she collapsed, exhausted, on his chest.
Cole said,”What say I get you something to eat?
Right now I’m thinking that would be best.”
She nodded and ate half of his jerky
before she refused to take any more,
then without a word he lifted her up
and carried her over to his horse.
She was so petite she fit easily
behind him, perched up high on the saddle,
he said,”Riding with a woman behind me
sure as hell beats driving other men’s cattle.”
He hesitated, said,”Folks call me Cole,”
then waited for her to do the same.
She whispered,”I was born Eugenia…
it’s been so long since I’ve used my real name”
He smiled,”Well, I think first thing we do
is find a town and go get you some clothes.”
With a light spur, his horse started walking,
making west, headed for Idaho.