ESTABLISHED PIETY -:-
simplified
images
tempt
prospective
observances
in PERFECT PERSONIFICATIONS
eagerly
pursuing
conferring
emotional
responses
but BEARING IN MIND
customary
moods
earnestly
sensed
commitments
Halloween
blackish, villainous
haunting, frightening, chilling
jack-o-lanterns, treats, gifts, christmas lights
rejoicing, lightening, wrapping
cheerful, enjoyable
Christmas
*Image of Winter Image by Pixabay.
wintry nuptial
forest of bridal dresses
dom perignon waterfalls
crystal cathedral
caves soothingly slumberous
doves kissing a crown
tracks of invites frosty prints
noon sun centerpiece
blessed observances natures
arrested outdoor spirits
2022 December 16
*1st Place*
Triple New Charlieku
~~Charles Messina: Judged 2023 January 04
*10th Place*
YOUR SELECTION
~Brian Strand: Judged 2023 January 25
*HMS; 775, 757, 577.
The afternoon sun
now clears the trees
and comes through the window
to where you are with your book,
deciphering the clues to reveal
who committed the crime.
Imbedded in the surrounds
are the rituals that connect
us to life and to each other,
the daily observances
notched in time.
If it were not for these
affirmations of love,
we would be lost somewhere
within ourselves,
me in the endless passageways
of a poem without windows
and doors, you in the forensics
of a crime scene,
communicating with each other
through a bullet or punch hole
we've left in our dreams.
It can't be known in its totality,
It seems to metamorphose and shapeshift,
It emphasizes human brevity,
It ushers the new dawn and builds a rift.
All that it brings to us we seek answers,
We are surrounded by perplexities,
Complexities stand erect like towers,
Observances are mere formalities.
The mind is the target and the bull’s eye,
We all tread the path of vicissitudes,
We wrestle, pray, meditate and push high
Life’s depictions are only platitudes.
Its entirety is hidden far beneath,
We go on a search but meet a brick wall,
Our hands can’t reach for all that lie underneath,
We see clearer and learn from every fall.
July 22, 2022.
It's All About Three Q's Poetry Contest,
Constance La France,
Life.
Please, bright holidays - summon irresistible cheer
that dancing souls can celebrate with free hearts.
Let hallow'd observances pass with seasonal soundtracks, tinsel-prismed
cascades of multicolored lights and evergreen scents.
Too often these days, our joys seem hostage held
by some fearsome heaviness, like that of a guilty thing.
Give wholesome nights back their power to charm,
enjoy festive feelings, and pass those, as gifts, on to others.
The stock of the rifle is hand-selected walnut.
I polish it with a soft cloth and occasionally
use linseed oil.
I dust a porcelain lady
twice a week. She does not need my attention,
but I give it.
My Nikon needs to be taken out of its case,
otherwise it may turn into a
a blank memory.
At least once a fortnight.
I pick up a quartz crystal and sigh;
the sigh does not mean anything
unless you think ‘sighs’ mean anything.
When the black dog returns,
I drive out at night
with no aim or destination.
The 'dog'
(my camouflaged depression),
must be driven somewhere,
and left on the side of a highway.
These things I do are tramlines,
a navigability that gets me back
to a place where I can write
with no bull attached -
no one likes a fake sun.
These inconsequential acts
are rituals, observances that maintain
the safe-side of my mind
while words eat words
in the dark.
When I remember to think of you
things are lighter and more smooth
Learning recently of obstacles
that have existed without my knowledge
awareness not a huge enlightening
grains of salt fill my suitcase
More than attempts I exercise daily
reinforcing positive thought behavior
My aim to avoid adding sadness to the world
to keep the light and spread the good
The smaller observances in daily life
things that glow and catch your eye
these are blessings and that is great
I am grateful and I will behave
CRIMSON
Bougainville…
white washed
walls of hidden
hedonism
cobble stones of
past unknowns
Mediterranean
mysterious
Islands of
indulgence
salt and sea
a serene
version of you
and me placid
crimson hopes and
expectancies
lie in veiled
secrecy
the darkness
of disturbed
observances
clandestine
© Kim van Breda—21 December 2015
There is no need for titles
forced as some may be.
Random thoughts and observances
frequently pervade these pages
and make their way across the kibes
diminishing their reality.
Meager and frail representations
of what lies deeply imbedded
and well hidden in the heart
waiting patiently to be seen.
The external world's obsession of being busy every day
running here, running there
doing this and that
so that true beauty, feeling and emotion are lost.
The simple things survive
a gentle tender kiss, the soft caressing touch of hands,
a long lost endearing look speak
without the words or titles.
sexual tension running high
crossing the squiggly line implied
for a relationship that could be sublime
somehow things get all mixed up
is it that we cared too much
observances that hurt when touched
another poem that doesn’t rhyme
skipping heartache, fast forwarding time
rules that need to be more defined
reassessing the way we are
feelings moved into the heart
awareness now is very stark
if we are in the same place
we need to cut right to the chase
the squiggly line can be erased
I don’t think we both can win
looking back at where we’ve been
that squiggly line was much too thin
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