Long Mountaintops Poems
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Life, a meandering river ~
Not all pebbles are shiny!
the humming sonata of a melodious stream
tranquil dreams...until the current becomes fast,
and the journey becomes arduous!
Life ~ full of possibilities, dreams infinite...
affection, romantic love, close relationships -
peace ~ our goal
painful memories -
loss, longing, death, heartbreak...
every day a challenge!
An incense burns to exude aroma until only the ash remains...
A candle glows, and melts leaving tiny pearls...
Flowers droop and lose their lustre,
Rivers flow with curves and bends,
from high mountaintops through plains and valleys,
to reach ultimate love.
Dreams don’t wilt....
But Happiness fades away before we know it!
FIRST PLACE
September 17, 2021
For "M" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
through a mud stained field
and thickets galore
mountaintops blue in the haze
walked through hayfield stubble
with a damp, faithful dog
I am anticipating Halloween
but thoughts dissolve quickly
in fields and forest hues
indian summer is over
litters of leaves all around
we pass a dead coyote
the white dog pays no mind
there's no need to hurry
lots of creekside bushes
cause my path to crook and veer
I miss the smell of brush burning
and dread the winter coming
I'll cancel my reservation
and head for some coral reef distant
summer without end
twinkling snow berms
and bitter cold will come
but technology can remedy
the chill nuisance
of Arctic's southward plunge
You have fulfilled my life with a tranquil harmony,
With all celestial blessings I ever wished for…
Your radiant gorgeous flowers converse with me from afar,
They tell me about your endless passions,
In the rain, my heart dances like a peacock.
You created a glorious haven of a sanctuary for me,
With exquisitely rare flowers from our memories -
tender petals in mauve, magenta, purple, red and blue …
You created an oasis with a magical swing,
cradled around with green grass, lush and soft,
waiting for us, only us, exuberantly.
All those fascinating colours from the
breathtaking rainbow in the palette of the sky,
All the enchanting melodious sonata from the chartreuse
humming rivers descending from surreal mountaintops,
All the gently whispering trees and bushes
in the mystical forest of our alluring dreams,
cooing birds on the branches intoxicated with
longing for their mates, at dawn and dusk…
cherish our names with love, for eternity.
My tantalizing days and serene nights,
My vermilion joys and crimson longings,
All the kaleidoscopic tinge from the scintillating hues,
loving memory of
of one exquisite garden somewhere bearing my name “Malancha”
of one unworldly love creating wonders!
Notes: Malancha - Garden (in Sanskrit)
Written on September 16, 2021
For " A Lovely Memory" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina Mcintosh
Written on September 16, 2021
Islands in the Stream
Islands linked together like forged argent charms,
In straights of silent, surging currents,
Where Watchtowers of Fresnel lens sound fog sirens
Where sacred shoals harbor shame forgiven;
Lightships built high on cribs and Keys of truth finally seen
As bright argand lamps on chariot wheels send out beacons,
To signal sightless ships with broken masts and rudders
Through whirlpools of turbulent canals and gushing straights,
To find serene deep-water ports in chains of channeled islands.
Yet, these no islands only mountaintops of maturity climbed
From submerged land coupled at a thousand leagues
Beneath the tidal moon enchantment;
Restoring milestone harbors of illumination
Words lit by isophase candle lamps inside carved prisms
Expanding light waves of thought - recognitions of new plateaus
Topping astragals of aerobeacons with untasted adventures
Into enlightenments leaving behind each newly explored isle -
New christened tall ships navigate siren’s lure in uncharted streams.
9-20-21
Contest: Islands in the Stream
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Priscilla’s News
The Word
Threads every dawn
Dyed in blue
And
Purples hues
And walks in time
With the meter of a shuttle
A steady
Pulsing rhythm
The beat of warp and woof
Rising-falling
Falling – rising
Weaving seasons through the soul
Into new patterns
Of hope
Foretold –
Life born from an empty tomb
And ancient promise
Raised up in flesh
Called from the grip of a cerecloth
Shouting in triumph
Over mortality clothed in flesh
In bright threads of victory;
A season of the heart
Peering through dark threads
Of winter’s midnight
And passing over
The bondage of empires
And conquering armies
In crimson strands,
The Word
Proclaimed to countless souls
Shivering through each starless night –
Waiting-hoping
Hoping-waiting
Not knowing eternity’s covenant
Changed the pattern
Of each life which numbly wandered
From Eden to exile
Exile to Eden
New creations –
New highways leveled -
New valleys rise embracing mountaintops
Where footsteps
Joyfully announce
Good News!
Changing colors of despair
To brilliant shades of joy
In the handiwork of a new handmaid -
Woman of the Word –
Who did not travel the holy roads,
Or wait upon the Living Word,
But sees through eyes,
Once blinded eyes
That held the coats
Of hands that martyrs made,
The calling of the weaver’s wife
To raise a herald’s voice
In a foreign wilderness
For those who wait in darkness
Preparing a new made way
In a tent of tapestry – hearts interwoven –
Bound by the Word.
For days we were assaulted
By vicious sleet and snow
It brought life to a standstill
Many were in survival mode
Records show, it had been decades
Since such fury we had known
Just more reason to be complacent
And show how careless we had grown
Then one morning, an open curtain
Revealed bright sunlight and calm wind
There, a sigh of relief was instilled
The turbulent storm was near it's end
To me, it's a perfect metaphor
Of our sojourn in life
At times we glide on mountaintops
Then dark valleys bring pain and strife
Often after egressing from a storm
We appreciate the sunlight more
It can help us align priorities
And bring reality to the door
Though life is short, it can be sweet
If we keep the beacon light in view
By His guidance we can emerge
Into a day, - with a brighter hue
My mind is anchored on the fact
Ahead, - is a plateau calm and warm
In Heaven, there'll be eternal bliss
Truly that will be, the "end of the storm"
Colan L Hiatt = 01-25-16
© All Rights Reserved
Some men chant atop mountaintops
while others prowl the garden and hiss
some spin prayer flags to cool the soul
some smile like pansies but are venomous.
Some men live for the sake of others
some only live to pleasure the self
some men suffer for heaven's sake
some wither in the deepest pit of hell.
Plain-spoken men often harbor honesty
flamboyance at times covers ill intent
men in castles tend to be quite restless
others can find peace in a shanty or tent.
One hides his faults and shortcomings
while mocking and trampling the others
the humble gain strength in forgiveness
and will lend a heart to a fallen brother.
"The world stood still, My heart in jitters..." By Poet
Quiet dusk!
enjoying sunset glory in the horizon,
on an evening of sky gold,
gossamer twilight of the melting rays
descending on the mountaintops...
listen to homecoming birds
twittering to their mates!
I yearn for you,
I yearn for watching this crimson nightfall together…
I remember the holding of hands,
when our eyes met in the shimmering light of daybreak,
cascade of love sparkling in your eyes,
The world stood still,
my heart in jitters,
The moment felt eternal!
FIRST PLACE
Lake Léman must float
the weight of the city –
Its grey stolid affluence
needs hydraulic help.
Our paddle steamer chuffs
beyond the tall fountain.
For a while, grand houses
bob beside us.
In Geneva the poor must fit between
the opulence.
Up ahead, Mont Blanc,
and other Wagnerian massifs,
begin to shrink us into fisheyes.
Then sunlight spills its sky
into the deep waters.
Suddenly we are afloat on mountaintops!
I could be almost happy here
if we were not just renting this moment.
When we return to the city
the sky will be gray once more,
the poor will still be poor.
Outside the stylish patisseries,
sparrows will still fight for crumbs.
I AM, "THE POETESS"
The array of pigeons stampede upon soft blue-white bears
camping on the mountaintops. Stretching shadows
across green fields, slowly depart when sun yawns to sleep.
When moon-dust streams bathing the night sky,
horizon gleams brushing--a hidden tryst below.
From biting misery caused by world wars' fangs
to lullaby hums of tweeting birds
and of seagulls' swish and pounds...
Grand or not they are spark spectacles drawing lifeline..
(I am the poetess who loves to write about these)
Through my pen, I echo to the world the rhythmic message of love.
I open the eyes of man to see the beauty among God's creations.
(I am the poetess who is a lover of God and forever
am seeking ways to please Him more than any)
I bring beauty too, that even the blind can see..
Some trembles: songs and speech of angels
that even the deaf can hear.I want to touch the lips
of the dumb that they may psalm the ballads of life.
(I am the poetess who is 29 y/o this year,
a nurse, a singer, a cook in my own right :D!)
I lift the spirit of the crushed then cheer victors in the pedestal.
I invoke joy when there is none. Hence, even tears: a scream of smiles.
(I am the poetess who dares try and reach my limits and beyond,
writing from my heart of hearts and from my thought of thoughts)
I light up a candle in the midst of hopelessness
then usher through morals in verse:the cavalcade of humanity
(I am the poetess who expresses freedom of expression responsibly--
wanting always to inspire, encourage and to remind)
Poetic finesse not always my ground
My name may never be known but each stanza I write
I hope it may wake your somber muse.
(I am the poetess that always consider herself--
beginner in every poem she writes...)
I am the poetess...
________________________________________________________________
Sponsor TAMMY REAMS
Contest Name Bio of a Poet
---Placed 3rd---
O.E. Guillermo
9:11 pm, April 15, 2015