Hordes of tiny fish
Nibble at the strands
Dark marmalade feathers
Undulating seductively
Calling all fish
To belong, be part of
A hidden totality
Under the glazed sunlight
Hazarding the shadow
Squeezing through the murk
Feeding our way in
Imagining light
Believing in everything
Eating the darkness
Mouthing the mass
Chemical collages draping the shape
Of a rusting onion
With nothing to say, but
Enjoy your meal.
precursory predictor of storm
ethereal mysticism
secluded and secretive
elusive conducive
murky and unclear
hidden dangers
illusive
shadow
fog
It's the slumber and sleep where men go so far
Carrying the bravery of walking through fire
On burning feet never to surrender:
Insomnia stares at me in the dark
With black steamy eyes that scare.
Lying in bed the whole night not
To sleep,but to count their fingers,
Watch misty vapours they can't hold,
In the bright glow of dark shadows.
Listening to the silence of no sounds
That from soul-deep ring so loud.
Nights when sleep is no rest
Longing for lonely friends in darkness;
Not just them who will bring joy to them
But only those friends who sail the same
With whom to walk stretch of no end.
Murky sleep in beds
A journey that sees no end
A long peer at not a light in the tunnel
A candle seeming to burn at the low base
And an empty plan of life at its end
I carry a heart that dozes never,
Sight of dangling soot hanging above:
It's not a turbulent ride when things should be calm
A journey far ahead into beautified mirage
Where insomnia be my only sextant.
Varnished Tech Titans
Tattered totems tarnished
Viral tribal bible spiral
Tainted talismans taunted
Cash cows flaunted
Gerontocracy trumps democracy
Theocracy stumps hypocrisy
Autocracy dumps diplomacy
Haunted schism prism
Vaunted Fat Cats
Enigma?…just
Dogma & Stigma
Tit for Tats
Martian Martial law
Doff your hats
To techno-*wats
And petro-*rats
Deplore or Encore?
Poor Planet in flux
All about the bucks
Ersatz Fat Cats
Well More is More!
Lotus flowers grow from black mud.
This is what Aaro sees,
standing at the edge of a
pond full of lotuses in the garden.
Beauty rises from darkness.
Pink petals open above murky water,
green leaves spread
like hands on the surface.
The roots know secrets
the flowers will never tell,
how strength comes from
places without light or colour.
What was buried
finds its way to light.
What seemed lost
becomes beautiful.
The garden speaks,
in whispers:
Every flower was once
a seed in the dark.
Aaro watches and learns.
Her joy blooms.
murky waters
barren sludge and grunge
until waterlilies rise
AP: 1st place 2025
“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.” — Maya Angelou
Dark thoughts offer me great despair,
sparking rhymes who say I don’t care,
shadows drift across moonlit lanes,
troubling fear, who echoes my pains.
Dismal dangers breath twilight’s tears,
aching, trembling ‘til the smoke clears,
tossing, turning, all that remains,
troubling fear, who echoes my pains.
Nightmares sing into the distance,
haunting souls with such persistence,
lingering doubt, whines and complains,
troubling fear, who echoes my pains.
When I see Him, in His glory,
recall that precious love story,
my heart trembles at the bloodstains,
troubling fear, who echoes my pains.
Fear and trembling threaten my hope,
feeling like I simply can’t cope,
but He comforts, with His refrains,
troubling fear, who echoes my pains
Wisely, He sent us His Spirit,
past or future, we’ll not fear it.
He saves us despite binding chains,
troubling fear, who echoes my pains
Upon reflection
Making ripples upon the stagnant murky pool
Of heartfelt sunken treasured memories
Of yesterday that went all way too fast
That meant so much to me upon
With each day yet another smothering shadow cast
Now I cannot breathe I heave
And find it So hard to live
When I was truly faithful
And had so much to give
I clung on tight with all my mite
As if the days were my last
But over time
I lost my grasp
Falling into the abyss
Of deep deep melancholy
And agonising despair
Why do I torture myself?
Listening to the same sad love songs
Again and again
I never learn
I have only myself to blame
For inflicting so much pain
Upon Myself
I usually keep such memoirs
Too much to bear
Far away in a secret dark place
I never venture there
To the back of my mind
Under lock and key
Caught in the cobwebs
Of my life’s eclectic history
How old songs of better long gone times
Evoke so much agony
Instantly on hearing
With every word and melody line
Peter Dome©2024.
Reflections in murky waters is never clear
Kind of like ones fear
Not sure what you really see
In all the possibilities that be
Imagination takes flight
This can't be right
It fills in the blank with the thoughts of the worse kind
It's goal is to cloud the mind
Make you unsure
Truth becomes a blur
Darkens all you see
Hard to break free
Fear of the unknown
Think hope has flown
You must be strong
I'm not wrong
Fear
Is always near
Believe in you
This you can do
Buried so deep
From all the times you did weep
Slowly building inside
Like the emotional tide
Let it over you sweep
Take this leap
Believe in you
I speak true
Fear is all in the mind
And this you'll find
If you don't give in to Fear
Murky waters tend to clear
bluesy blurbs
of
brumal
blackness
its
crawling
clasps
of
silvery
gnawing
below
shriveled
shades
of
oxidized
&
deep
haze
immure
&
wait
awakening
cold winter
warm soul
&
henceforth
will hear
pearly
chants
from
Birdie
Green
with neon
embers
swirling
fractals
of
gemmed
hues
in
spirit
for
soft
knock
of
spring
on
frozen
shell
of
withered
dreams
Written: January 15, 2023
3rd place contest winner
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Brian Strand Contest No 1170 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
On the bank of the murky river whose current is so rough, sneezing in the rain of dandelion fluff.
In the robins morning call and the white tailed hares vacant stare, in that foreign language my name is spoken.
But no more words wasted describing eyes in terms of their colour or the weather.
It’s been long enough, love. There are sounds the heart needs to hear.
It’s been long enough, love. There’s a difference between satellites and shooting stars.
Between vandalized park benches and cramped stair cases. The apartment balconies flashing Christmas all year round, the log bridge stripped bare.
Come now, no more I, or you, or we, only the places no one has ever been.
I’m the midday blue and eternities view. At the flock of geese magnetically attuned. The lakeside pebbles and fallen trees finding ways to produce any amount of green.
It’s been long enough, love. No more wrestling these indescribable thoughts; it’s words that erode all things felt.
It’s been long enough, love. Self care has spilt enough lonely blood. Soul searching would replace all life if given the chance to.
drawn the line ever so fine
somewhere between love and hate
optimism wary in the forefront
of caution flirting its blurred edges
the verdict by a thread
loosely hangs in oscillation
dormant danger staggering
lingers behind flimsy curtains
loving you exposes me
leaving me vulnerable
precarious on the balancing beam
over a trench of shifting sands
dodging odds gambled in a pinch
fearing clouded ulterior motives
i want to trust in you implicitly
risking being taken for the fool
though feelings can turn on a dime
should you unhinge my world
on the edge of love and hate
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on July 4, 2021 for A BRIAN STRAND JULY 4 contest sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
My heart lay in a murky room
Unseen and unheeded
Motionless and bleeding
Yearning for when it shall meet
Its twin,
In the guise of a flame!
Then, while it slumbered
It was whispered of love
And it started beating ecstatically
Knowing that somehow
The curtains hiding it
Will get drawn,
And its windows will be opened
Allowing scattered dandelions
To fly in
And to surround it
While singing songs in ode
To the powerful angels
While it shall burn
In its own twin flame!
But it expected not to meet
With disgust and disdain
It expected not to be spat on
Or to thrown in thrash
It expected not
That love,
As it has dreamt of it,
Would hate it
As if it were an infectious disease!
Hurt,
It has now retreated back
To its own murky room,
With the lights switched off
And the curtains well drawn
As,
If love be repulsive
Then better it is
To avoid it!
It minds not its loneliness
As it knows
That it shall create memories
In the guise of dark and brooding
Poems that it shall leave here
Someday
When the skies shall deem it
That it be its time
To ascend towards them!
Written on 21st Dec 2020
"Murky Royals"
All these Kings are in it for themselves,
Their kingdom filled with mana meant for the slaves, even cheese meant for the mice, shelves pregnant and forgotten with treasures pilfered from the farmer's hands.
They say they are for the people, yet their castles built so high they don't awe there are the people!
Multitudinous hours put into ploughing their gardens, yet no severance package when the digging is done.
With a polished crown on your head and a rod of iron we expect you to be munificent not maleficient since our voices ordained you....
What use cleaning up a skunk
If your mind murky remains,
A fish forever is dunk
In water, her stink still retains.
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Kabeer was a medieval saint poet. One of his quatrains is taken here for translation (transliteration as under):
nahaye dhoye kya bhaya, jo mana maila na jaye,
mina sada jalamen rahe, dhoye basa na jaye.
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Translations | 09.06.14 |
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