Maelstroms Poems | Examples

NUANCES OF LIFE aldravia

       vortices
        of life
         vast 
        vértices 
         maelstroms
           lived

DO NOT MISS THE MOON, WHILE COUNTING THE STARS

DO NOT MISS THE MOON, WHILE COUNTING THE STARS
Do not be carried away by the deceit,
Of an oozing chant of a back palm’s stew;
For the meat that source and house it,
Will slip and off it will drift like dew;
So, do not miss the sun,
While counting the smiles of the stars,
Kafkaesque!
Most magic moments oblique,
The conscientiousness to tame,
And the illusionary shadow’s of blame.
Sometimes, I don’t want,
You to know what I think,
That’s why I hide it in a plant,
A tarred bowdlerize wink;
So, do not stay too long....
Looking at the sun, especially her eclipse.
Alas! The jaded aglet corpse!
I have wringed wet maelstroms,
What you have in your palm,
Is bigger than the shadow storms,
So, do not waste hours counting, 
Those deceitful stars__
When all you need is the moon!
For this is an overweening;
Err that mar many: a raconteur.
    ~ Tile

Apple Snake Opaqueness

Trillions of planets whirl around a trillion suns.
Some, nestled within the lavender hearth. 
Of the haloed goldilocks zone.

Are we alone - are there infinite sprigs of life. 
Somewhere in that crown of delight and frightful blackness.
Would it diminish our uniqueness.
Diminish earthly achievements.
If the heaven harbored maelstroms of unearthly beings?

Maybe there's a trillion Edens.
  A trillion Adams-a trillion Eves. 
  A trillion apple snakes-a trillion temptations.
   A trillion fates of clarity and opaqueness.

A trillion light years of ignorance. 
Separating a trillion truths from our genesis.

Prism Clouds

windless waves of whirling stars
breathless unicorn dreams
morning fog clari-forms clear
mindful maelstroms melt
present ten se promises placed
braveheart beliefs burgeoning
unconditional utter

In the Question Is the Answer

What is She?

She is a thought.
an urge to go inside
where eyes go blind.

Where is She?

She is here, a loadstone
in the spinning wheels
of our maelstroms.
We carry Her,
as a hunger,
yet She nourishes
as lonely sorrows
famish away.

Why is She?

She is a dawn moon
for our dreaming.
A light
that will keep us guessing
why we are
until we find out
what we are not.

Bard's-Eye View

ado the realms that I have plunged with phrase
          they have no shape - no bound'ries or expanse
               some wend in heaven's dreams or hell's malaise
     thoughts sown a demon's kiss or angel's dance ...

such myst'ries there are born from matter, gray
          those maelstroms wend the mind's complexities
               what seems dark and chaotic through its sway
     works fierce to find the beauty each eye sees ...

while wordsmiths tend to stretch upon the rack
          of flow'ry phrase, for sake of bloom and breaths
               there's far more dire concern with candor's lack
     than all the horror wrought ten thousand deaths ...

please don't misunderstand these words of mine
          true eloquence is birthed through grain OR chaff
               with thoughts that bare the soul in grand design
     and swell dear hearts that break on their behalf ...

pray, deign to think me common, though I was
          dear love's sweet fool, a million times too much
               and though I'd trade my loves for verse's cause
     the dearest poem can't trump ... a woman's touch.

Holding the Light

Sara L Russell, 10/10/16 

So if we are light beings, then is the aura a fountain of white
  diamond fire reflecting the sun, dancing in the air
in a million drops of exploding starlight from the seventh universe.
  If we are light beings, we are beholden to shun the darkness.

Always shun the darkness, for it is full of the shadows of djinn;
  those shadow people know your comings and goings,
behold, they are legion, they hunt the starlight children
 fly like a moth to the light; since it holds only the luminescence of love.

We are light, we are strong, we are wingbeats of angels,
  we are the blameless abiders of law from our leaders,
like a million dancing raindrops, we can weather the maelstroms,
  holding the light as a feather; since it is fragile and needs our belief.

And if we are light beings, being lighter than air or arias,
  then is the aura like haloes of sunbeams reflected in sea;
only then we are free to ascend in the spirit of freedom,
 being the love light and keepers of tranquility.

We Walk

  We may even traverse a windblown ledge
                       together
                   pang to pang
          through maelstroms of life
     sometimes slipping into the abys
   of wounded minds and unsure times
     but within our faith and God's will
        we'd come out the other side
                     battered 
but with gifts of empathy- understanding
               two blossoms shimmering
 in the applause of each other's victories
      and the pruning of our defeats-

The Eternal Voyage

A vessel sets off from the Cape of Despair.
A brown girl of ten is the tiniest shipment. 

They’re fed up with the indigenous misery.
They sold everything, enchanted by the 

traffickers’ fake promises. Their migratory 
dreams leap like the kangaroos. But Australia 

is beyond the likely maelstroms and cyclones.
They conquer hunger with the dry fruits and 

resist the chill with their will. Diesel and their 
energy run out. They’re fast asleep beneath 

the blanket of fatigue. Soon they vanish within 
a gigantic turbulent wave.  They find another 

version of the world, where there are neither 
borders nor flags. They wander in the blue 

woods with peeping blackbucks. Red-striped 
snakes float in the fragrance of the night blooms.  

Ecstasy is ejaculated. None of them feel any sense 
of loss. Food is no longer a haunting thought.

They enjoy true charms in pure freedom.
Life is beautiful beyond the mystery of death.


First published in The Literary Hatchet

Night Storm

A storm on the edge of sleep,
a night storm, a night horse,
black fire blown through
wind hollowed lungs. 

A storm in the ringing shell of self,
where sleep slopes down
to a dimming light.

The mind has shape,
it has a thousand miles
of tundra. Mountain ranges.
The mind has miles.

Dragons are tossed in the air;
on their backs, those 
forever lost - wave hello.

The red beaks of storm gulls
are open, and they sing
of the deep sea dreams
we never remember.

Macabre images chase 
scaly tails
through maelstroms.
Mushrooms flower miasmas 
of ghost-moths.

Amid this teacup tumult, 
a child looks out, a storm-child
driven to the high ledge of night.
A tempestuous place

where lies a slumbering head,
sleepy legs dangling
over a pitched and plunging bed.

Mr Middle- Grounded

We're sashaying around in bubbles
trying to keep that fragile equilibrium
keep the soul at 98.6 degrees.

Sooner or later, they'll come with pins
dipped in poison called a different opinion
bubbles will pop and out pours the venom.

Black hoods, brown hoods and white hoods
slinging bull horns, bats and banter
from Chicago to Boston to Portland 
it's all the same.. 
sloppy slander.  

You're tilting left - I'm tilting right.. 
where's Mr. middle ground
that sweet cream of democracy rapidly shrinking
only bloody scalps-maelstroms of dead dreaming.

Cue balls and eight balls trapped in green sockets
madmen and rich men, aiming cold eyeless rockets
God trapped in the corner pocket 
shaking a finger at his wayward creations.

Man Unkind

Dusty books of wisdom 
prayer wheel not spinning
retreating from one another
stars shedding their satin skin 
maelstroms of unbridled egos
the asp kisses the sleeping eagle
oil slicing the throat of the people
the people await the hand of the son
who says you haven't suffered enough
the desperate sinking on islands of needles
a range of golden law mountains are shunned
spinning blades of greed, the hell with need
gone is the silver oasis of shimmering faith
shallow promises spilling from burlap faces
parched souls hoarding rain from the poor
rivers of sin slapping at Saint Peter's door
the four horsemen spurring fiery flanks
the future will honor the lowest of rank
unleashing justice-plugging heart leaks
the inheritance will cherish the meek
what the heck are we really seeking

Universe

Oh, how my nethermost being aches for your answer

You yawn like a glistening wound above me, tugging at my will

A pregnant astral enigma, weeping with wonderment and perplexity

Frigid, barren voids, churning chaos, meat and matter beyond imaginings

Vistas of marvel, life fantastic and bizarre, worlds unbidden and unbled

Swirling maelstroms of dust, energies of darkness and dynamism

The heaving breast of heaven, burgeoning at the Constant, ever outward

Oh, to but prick the veil of your timeless and tenebrous mystery

To breach your breadth and boundary, and all that they bind and bear

Would be to weave the garland ... of the gods themselves.





~ 8th Place ~  in "The Universe" Poetry Contest, Nina Parmenter, Judge & Sponsor.

Rubies In the Weeds

Hello Hope, haven't kissed you for quite some time.
Life slapped veils of blackness over my sunny side.
Remember when forever donned diadem of dream.
Rubies tap dancing in maelstroms of witches weed.

You were always there - most loyal of them all.
Lifting spirits onto crystal clouds after my greatest fall.
Even when my venom deflowered your pristine heart. 
You never left my hobbled being to bleed out in the dark.
To honor you, in every maze, I've bound minotaur with chains.
Upon the parched face of Oz- you were dew drop atop emerald plains.

Barbed Wire Triage

Little men will always invite
maelstroms of venom into your life.
They pleasure pithing vulnerable beings
never caring that a heart needs freedom to beat.

At their core, selfishness of the purist form
{however} 
you're not the cure and never will be. 
There's no balm for this color of rot, never will be.
but you're a fiery young, wide-eyed doe.
Until living strikes with barbed wire slaps to the soul.

I wish you and Mr. Little the very best.
Wish I could have steered you far far away. 
from that reef and those sirens in your head... 

Sometimes love needs to simply step aside, 
then offer loving triage till the bleeding finally subsides.

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