Passing Over Poems | Examples

My sweetest dear

My sweetest dear
Whose eyes are my soul's elixir
Five moons upon us
As our dreams bend the stars

That paddock full of wild flowers
Now yields the softest grass
My hands passing over those seeded heads
As the wind sways them to you

We meet there one day
One day, any day , every day
Finally that dream awoken 
Nervous hands with nervous eyes

A remedy for our racing hearts 
Salves the skin that knows not touch 
As the same air saturates us
We yield unto each other

Sprinter miles apart

Life's long ride 
To which,
I opted for smaller tides
That comes and goes
Like latecomers, summer night

Seeing myself passing over the potion
Summer changes into winter
And now I am with the ocean
With no direction, just a sprinter

A POETIC TIMELINE

The mind hangs in silence,
All is stilled, thoughts lingering
Lazily, as if in cosmic animation;

No words drip from the faucet that once
Streamed waters of creation, and now is
Only empty air passing over an idle lexis;

How deceiving is the thought, idle mind:-
A dormant volcano creates its explosive flow
Does not the idle mind quietly stream likewise?!

There’s no creation that’s void of time;
God himself used time to speak in creation!
Thus, is not time herself, the plunger of idleness?!

Butterflies are timed in cocooned metamorphosis; babes in wombs;
And likewise, black holes are wombed in the depths of time’s space;
Yes, in all creations, time’s time is an instant of its own self eternity:-

Thus, we poets of the cistern of divine wisdom and guidance,
Must ever be aware that the sacred poem is a creature of time;
Germinating in the womb of mind, and premature birth is also timed.

Yes, while time itself–for anything–does not wait, 
We mere mortals must wait on the timing of time,
For it is in its own time that the poem is delivered!

Sunday at my Leisure

Sunlight leaks
through the curtain
after I’ve thrown off the covers.
Downstairs the television flickers
as a roommate sleeps
on the couch.
He was talking politics
last night.
I went upstairs
and read a poem.
This morning
I walk into the kitchen
and turn off a dripping faucet.
The furnace hums
to fight off a chill.
The calendar says spring
as if my life has just begun.
I go out for a leisurely drive
where the countryside
speaks to me.
I come back home
and make a quick brunch.
Words dancing in my head
cry out for me
to put them on a page
as the cat sits on my lap.
The roommate rolls to his side
saying, April’s the cruelest month
while I say the cruelest thing
is writer’s block.
A jet passing over a crown
of trees at the end of the street
streaks the sky.
The roommate talks about a movie
he watched in the middle of the night
and its philosophy.
Did you like it, I say
as a bird outside the window sings.

Candlelight

Lighting the candle
To step forward with luster 
To reduce the darkness
Passing over blindness

Like the night fireflies
Long scouting in the sky
A trip to the moonless land
A queue of blinking light bands

Dim candles glow,  
Help prevent missteps,  
Guide the way with pep,  
To achieve the intended goal. 

Helpful candlelight
Since the wick was lit
Flip-flops in the velvet wind
Yet it firmly illuminates within

Feather And Ink

Upon this rock I hang my crown
And I will wait here for thee until the sun goes down
And if you don’t come I will leave a message in the sky
That will nourish your soul until the day you die
Bring me a feather and ink and a scroll to nail to the tree
I will write the final decree and you must search for your destiny
These few words I will print upon your heart and paint
Your images in the sky before the universe die
The wind is blowing in the East and the people
Are celebrating in the street
And a warm energy is passing over me
If courage could climb this giant rock,
I would give it all that I have got
Smile when you see the stars flickering in the sky
Smile when you say the final goodbye
I will wait for you until the sun goes down
And if I am not around look for the scroll on the tree
And the message in the sky
The moon will keep your company

In the twilight of my thoughts, a dream is born about girls

In the twilight of my thoughts, a dream is born about girls, enigmas hidden beneath veils,
Smiles that wear velvet masks, concealing truths like treasures,
They whisper love to you, but you will never know how many stories they've lived before,
Nor who sings their hidden desires in the shadows of the night, a dance of secrets.
It's their secret, carefully kept, regardless of the storms passing over the world,
Girls are like a beautiful and mad mystery, a waltz of illusion in steps of mist,
They tell you they love you, but at parting, they may shout their indifference,
For perhaps they are there for the glitter of gold, and you are just a fleeting dream.
When you're with one, know that perhaps four ghosts wait in the shadows,
Do not waste your time, nor give your heart as a flower into their hands,
For they will break it and leave you in the cold darkness,
Like a fairy tale unraveling under its own spell, an echo in a frozen wasteland.

A Day To Thankful For

Before the sun down
Start the cooling of day
You'll see flock of birds
Passing over the sight swiftly
See boats coming from far going ashore
Feast to dine with, caring the body
As your back wants to lay on bed
Reminds us that it's time for a rest
And say a thankful prayer goodnight
For all the day's accomplishment.

Kandahar

All terrain passing over sand stones from a distance catering to the hillside the mountain sent down a calming coolness while the barrels of oil leaked my minds eye focused on the stone slabs beneath the mountaintop grinding as the convoy entered the hidden nooks conveyed by night hiding under day teal lavender fabric covered my being hints of dates aroused my senses while meaningful gestures crowded my space chatter invaded this telepathically disdained balance covenant by old disagreements that poured out into the caves my knees trembled as I'm being quite pampered by kings giant screems facing every direction nations gathering for a group meet up my hands are kissed peppermint teas are chills served in brass tea containers looking over the world exploding I am comforted i am safe I am kandahar

NOW

Now

The landscape stretches 
 Her range out beyond sight
While notably 
Visible along the horizon 
   to the left and right,

She moves on away 
Dancing 
Into the traveling dimensions 
      of time 
Toward realms
Where language has yet to be
Any more than merely humming —
  And 
Any signals, any gestures of need
Proceed from essence — unleashed —
Feelings
Fleeing being bound…

To attach
To Sounds’ quivering frequencies
Streaming along their escape routes 
— always forward, outward
Prime to crisscross the heavens… 

Passing over fears’ attempts to reign…

Now, arrows fly fleetly
Following
The dancing landscape
Toward some unknown end points
Where Love outlasts all.




——————————————————-
(* 1 Cor. 13: 8- 12)

passing the buck

In Preparing children for the adult world,
There is no better game to teach them than pass the parcel,
No better game to show them that we live in a caring world.

And when they reach adulthood in our caring world,
It will easy for them to exchange a buck for the parcel,
And add one more rule to make it in the adult world,
You do not treat the buck like a parcel. 

No, passing the buck,
Is a better way of making it in the adult world,
As is, not the system to buck.
And never getting caught in the adult world,
Holding the buck.

For the advanced player,
Passing over as few bucks as possible,
For a parcel,
Of land that is profitable,
Is the ultimate goal for an advanced player,
Who knows who to leave holding the buck.

Life’s Secret

In the quiet morning, light pierces the dawn,  
Each ray a soft reminder:  
Breathe deeply,  
Step forward without hesitation.

Moments cascade like a gentle river,  
Passing over pebbles, around bends unseen,  
Their song low and constant,  
Whispering of presence and peace.

Hands open to the sky, we gather time,  
Not holding, but letting it flow through fingers—  
A dance of shadows and warmth,  
Each touch a story of now.

Evenings come with a soft closure,  
Stars watch over the world's slow exhale,  
In the hush, life’s simple truths resonate,  
Echoing the heartbeat of the universe.

We walk through days as through a garden,  
Noticing each bloom, each faded petal,  
Life's fleeting nature, the beauty in its briefness,  
Each step a silent celebration.

So we live, so we learn:  
Embrace each breath as if it is the first and last,  
See in every fleeting moment,  
A vast eternity waiting to be known.

As I Wander

As I wander,
I often ponder
Why do so many men pontificate?
They often mitigate
The great truths of this universe

Prodigious truths and secrets in this plane
So much energy at dawn, now passing over the
Midday sun, slowly that bright light begins to wane

Is it foolish of me to continue on this odyssey, I ask?
A nomad just wandering and searching for answers
May be a Sisyphean task

I'm still moving but just not as fast
That inquisitive itch is still there.
But I don't know how long my scratch will last

Well! As far as I can see and as long as there is an itch
I guess I'll be wandering and pondering until
They cover me in a ditch

Spectator

Rising
From the sand

Modified glass
An unusual spark

Passing over
A shifting wait

Leaving a trace
Open incite

Spilling out
A whisper

Rising

Wets
The
Lips.

Satchel of Ordinaries

I sat quietly staring out the porthole window
As we were passing over a village in the low hills
A cumulus cloud casting over its ominous shadow
Far below in the silence of the engine’s shrills,  
I wondered where those tiny people were going 
Beneath the wing nary a songbird nor butterfly
Alone streaking through the frigid air, the Boeing,
Not a face lifted from village below to the sky
Then it was gone, as quickly as I had imagined,
I rummaged through my satchel of ordinaries
Forgetting a whole community of unexamined
Miniatures, no concern for untended cemeteries,
I had long forgotten when the plane descended
My sweet reveries in solitude, my journey ended. 

Written June 10, 2022
Submitted to "2022 Marathon Mile 1" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney

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