The whirlwind rolled in rings at the eyewall,
Wild gale blew through the open tropical field.
I'd forgotten to close the windows tight,
And the ensuing rain inundated each inch of my niche.
The hurricane hurriedly stripped the veld of its peace.
Dry air pacified the expanse of the grassland,
The massive flood drained into a sunken cesspool,
My thoughts swayed to the windows the storm had slammed,
Now a zephyr traverses the meadow's breath;
Calmness fills the eye of the once-raging storm.
Wisdom is not enough to calm your fears
Love can be tough and won’t dry your tears
If you see rain look forward to sun
Despite the pain look forward to fun
Know time is ticking like a clock
There’s no notice when it will stop
Be a good steward to others and self
Living in the moment as a great help
Find your niche and thrive in it
Embrace life live it as you see fit
Listen to the divine voice that guides
Being kind is a choice that is wise
When you look at another face
See it with kindness and in grace
Know we all have faults we are not perfect
Even if lost we can be found and we’re worth it
Intrinsic awareness,
sensuous stream
in the vale of time,
channeled challenged
through mind’s myriad
angularities accentuated,
carries in coherent current
ceaselessly,
the cognitive impulses
criticality conjured,
surging swathing waves
of enlightenment
across formless emptiness
of amorphous perception.
The pulse of time
vibrates with perpetuity
in inner space,
intuitively infinite,
the cadence in harmony
with the intonation
of eternity,
the manifested
timeless transition
from one phase
to another
in continuum,
modulated mystically
by stimulus shimmer
of the illumined soul.
The life force
ostensibly obscure,
abhors vacuum,
persistence pervasive
propels the essence
of the existent
in nothingness niche.
Lucille found a sport without a single hitch
A two-wheeler was definitely her niche
Until she lost her balance
Racing a scooter challenge
And landed in a water-filled drainage ditch.
Written July 14, 2022
She sat in silence, whittling wood,
Creating magic with her hands,
Here she couldn't be misunderstood,
Carving charming pieces on stands,
Fulfilling customer demands;
She carved serenely, working hard,
Chipping away those needless bits,
Making art out of something marred,
This showcased her finesse and wits,
She loved her work, wouldn’t call it quits;
With this job, she couldn’t make ends meet,
But she rose to the occasion,
Pouring her heart into each feat
With skill and perfect equation,
She persevered with persuasion;
She had the courage to dream on,
Toiling with the sweat of her brow,
Soon she saw the glow of the dawn,
Her artefacts are famous now,
Her diligence paid off and how!
10th March 2022
For Emile Pinet's "Quintain (English)" poetry contest
Rhymes checked with www.rhymezone.com
Make the mind a seamless sea
like the rolling waves you’ll be free
sink deep in the tormenting water
search for the innate peace maker
repose in the serene niche so blissful
embraced by the essence of eternal soul.
June 8, 2021
For Bite Size Poem No 5 Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
The witch formed a little niche.
A place to hide her flicking switch.
A hiding crevice where others would not look.
Her own private daring cranny nook.
Other witches tried to pry and see
Her spell book and switch unique to thee
But her niche was hidden by the deep blue sea
She laughed at their efforts with a tee hee hee
I wake up to see the crimson sun in horizon bright
Sky paints in 3D the colors on cloud clumps on flight
Fly away in a spree to nowhere at the edge of night
My canvas like the sea at dusk turns black infinite
Sly wind with feathery wings brings you in my sight
Eye glinting in astral glee I soar high in great delight
Butterfly within takes me to your sky at joyful height
By and by in the niche of ecstasy our hearts unite.
July 3, 2020
Contest : Triple Rhyme
Sponsor : Beth Evans
Once, inquisitors would torture a witch
and strip her naked down to the last stitch.
And fear in the people reached fever pitch
encouraged by the clergy and the rich.
It's like scratching that unreachable itch
crushing skulls of succubus that bewitch.
And procuring an informant or snitch
the church used faith as a means to enrich.
Burnt alive or hug, so's to watch them twitch
practiced for centuries with naught a glitch.
Finally, attitudes began to switch
and today, witches fill an occult niche.
With a witch, an itch, a glitch, and a twitch,
the war on women runs without a hitch.
Subjugated women are labeled B*tch
raped murdered and disposed of in a ditch.
(Monorhyme)
10/24/2019
Itch, witch, glitch or twitch Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
What joy
What comfort
To find a niche
Where kindred spirits abound
Where we are encouraged
To be ourselves
And delight in others
Showing our true colors
How profound it is
To connect on that human level
Sharing opportunities
To appreciate each other’s journeys
With tendered words and views
Passions and aspirations
Life obstacles and vulnerabilities
Divulged with open heart
Allowing others to
Touch us in so many ways
Inviting them into our bubble
Some just connect
Like long lost friends
Forever leave
Their mark
AP: 2nd place 2021
Posted on September 25, 2019 (excerpt from IN A POOL OF KINDRED SPIRITS)
Feet tired of walking many miles,
hot blister of grueling day
one on other painfully piles,
look toward the falling night’s way.
Satin touch of embracing air,
seeping in through the velvet pores
of the cool flaps of loving pair,
waits every night for me, allures.
Nocturnal niche for tortured feet
puts to rest the toiling journey,
mild succor comes as timely treat,
I forget day-long trudge thorny.
They walk me to my cradle old,
I sail the dreams on hues of blues,
in peace sleeps the day’s pain untold
in my faithful pair of night shoes.
May 20, 2019
The poem is set in iambic tetrameter
Syllable count checked on howmanysyllables.com
Time ends:
Too soon, too late;
Last trend,
The abrupt fate.
Niche here:
Odd lot, odd plot;
Sans cheer,
No more last thought.
Still balm:
Breeze blows cold waves;
All seems most calm,
Death comes to save.
Leon Enriquez
15 January 2019
Singapore
A suspicious introvert thought it best
To keep pieces of his life close to chest
She came on a stormy day
Blew wrap of his heart away
In her mind his secrets found niche to rest.
December 27, 2018
FINDING NICHE
blooming heart curls
love petals
hued bonds
ecstasy
wings of zephyr
mind flies
calmed storm
bliss gleams soul
lit life finds niche
October 13, 2018
Syllable counts : 4-3-2, 3-4-2, 2-3-4
Checked on : Howmanysyllables.com
Life rustled like a dry leaf in the wasteland
The firmament of promise and hope clouded
For the shards of the splintered love
Pierced to pinion and bleed my heart.
With the mind in the throes of despair
I wandered across the placid plateaus
And the high hills in search of a place for sojourn.
I found one in a hamlet perched on the green valley
Where the clouds melted in the sunrise colors
On your face painting a portrait of celestial beauty.
People said you’re a girl of loose character
An outcast, you became a disowned object
They all decided to denounce and besmirch
But in your lissome body and innocent smile
I discovered in you the flair of the fallen angel
For you gave my broken heart
The solace of love it needed.
In my desolate days of agony and turmoil
I found a niche to repose in your divine arms.
May 26, 2018.
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