Piercingly Poems

monz'el tov

.

            and i look'd
                  look
              piercingly
          mine see fix'd
                   az
                stucco 

     az the skill'd plasterer
               haz laid
                    I 
             mine eyne
                lock'd
             knowingly
             unto hern
                flesh

Piano

Porcelain keys create
         Passionate sonatas
         Pitched in dulcet notes through
         Prewritten preludes that
         Piercingly vibrate when
         Pianists softly press 
         Pedals to enhance tunes

drawn -

you …

came to me today
(from anon)
wholly untold to your concerns
but real enough …
I was plodding the beach, tending wounds
when you tossed your smile at
me from a shrouded sun
off whitecaps, bursting into dazzle -
echoes, alit
each a memory, recaptured
brief as a blink …
but I was transfixed, as always
immersed in your burnt ochre irises
gold flecks like shiny confetti, fluttering
they hadn’t held me since …
forever, really
and as then, the brilliance within
was unsettling -
a piercingly perceptive acumen that
probed, unchallenged
though your countenance always
smoothed the edges -
a bubbly exuberance and gravity
an eager affability -
thawed everything around you
and … everyONE
effecting the grandest of illusions
that whatever you aimed your attentions at
was your dearest concern
and your one TRULY careful involvement …
when in all actuality
we -
the matter and matters about you -
were just a multitude of
merry moths …

to your flame.







Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, June 8, 2023

Howling Winter Wolves

The day is a gray one and bitter cold
Wind slapping my face piercingly bold
The snow is icy white, the top layer is hard
My forced footsteps leave the service scarred

Not a sound is heard, noises freeze in mid air
Later the moon exposes that activity was their
Some rabbits, deer and even some wolf tracks
Leaving me to wonder, are they running in packs

Tired and hungry, I head back to my lodge
Safe, yet feeling there is something I just dodged
looking out my window I see shadows prowling
There they are on the hill, I hear the wolves howling

Author Eileen Clark 2023

Night In Lisbon

Night in Lisbon 

Once, I went to a dance hall in Lisbon
 an awful place full of desperate middle-aged women
hoping to catch a man, any man.

Ah, for the horrible colours looking putrid on the wall
Was the music supplied by a jukebox when
the accordion was too drunk to play

Scrawny women of the night sat around the dance
floor trying to look sophisticated smoking cigarettes
laughing loudly like ugly sisters

Ogling men’s mid-part while showing spindly legs
meant, I think, to look enticing but only succeeded
In appearing like stick insects

Once these women had been beauties, attracted 
to men in suits; many divorces later and partying
time had taken a heavy toll.

Lonely women, chasing what once was, the youth
consorting with contemptible men who feared
being alone on a night when truth spoke piercingly

Solution For Your Self Contempt

This harsh light, back on you
Piercingly cruel aimed
Is of no sun, though it burns
In heart, as hot yes?

And however thickly
Shaded, walled off are
For protection, there's just no
Hung bough, cloister, right?
Unless counter-eying bright!
Love's, for that loveless!

Glowing Dawn After Blizzard

Ushering in the winter, auburn autumn is gone,
the feathers of snow dance with the arctic wind,
blowing piercingly across the blanched lawn
where bare trees stand defoliated and thinned.

A squall spurts from the horizon’s hazy domain,
and gathers momentum turning into a blizzard
that shears with icy lancets the desolate terrain,
where the chilling whistle of incisive wind is heard.

At the end of the storm-ravaged frozen night,
the scarlet sun rises to delight in the glowing dawn,
settled snow absorbs all sounds in blanket white
that reflects the dazzling radiance of silken chiffon. 

_______________

January 18, 2023
Contest : 12 Lines Of Rhyme - Winter Nature Themed
Sponsored by : Tania Kitchin

Carpe Diem

THE POETS AND THE HIGHLANDER

A highlander stands alone 
on the crest of a high hill
quietly playing the bagpipes
stirring the tree branches in the mist of fog
The sonorous dissonant sounds of the pipes
create a melancholy mood over the open field 
the lone figure stands tall paying his respects
to the fallen poets
Poets no longer alive but their words
written ages ago ring loudly today
still piercingly proclaiming
we were alive are you?

On Truth

Please contemplate on the following line of spiritual inquiry:

“To what avail are scriptures etched on stones ~

If it’s true, we must feel it in our bones”

ON TRUTH

the truth is
we have doubts
     the bigger truth is
we feel an enemy
shouting, from the mountaintop,
relentlessly, piercingly
          etched on stones
     chiseled and old
names   why are they so important?
dates   that rein us in
     they are kin
we want to know them
remember them
hold them
   close enough, we curl
on the overgrown grass,
or sometimes smell
the scent of fresh mown.
leaning backwards, from tablet
to typewriter, to pen and ink,
to the ten commandments.
     why do we care so much!?
that great why -
we either hide our faces
or raise our eyes, heavenbound.
the scribes breathed in and out
the power of the stones
the rock hard truths
the one that rolled away
sealed the deal
     without the resurrection,
what does it all mean?
         no direction.
the truth     is
i believe.

5/2/2022
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker

A Butterfly On Barbwire

A butterfly on barbwire
Those hearts piercingly maim.
In so giving the sharpest twinge
To Freedom's withheld pain.

From the Ground Up

Oh how I'm so tired of feeling tired..... 

Weak and helpless, as if my days have been spent. 
Bent double, crippled backwards, now cast aside. 

It seems that, one by one, my organs crumble, 
back into the dust from which I was made. 

Sharp pains shoot like bullets but stab like knives, 
catching any lingering breath in a vice-like clamp. 

My head fogged, in a piercingly thick cloud that fails to lift, and renders all intelligence useless. 

And oh how weakness scowers my body helpless, 
too listless to perform daily life or even simple chores. 

My mind fails me now, 
words no longer elegantly arranged in meticulous form. 

Alas, my mind plays tricks of which my vision is victim, 
and now my hearing has joined in the lucid facade. 

Despite everything, I pray for peace in this turbulent time. 
Even as I grow weaker, I shall remain steadfast in my Lord. 

He shall deliver me from all ills, through all adversity,
all in His time, through His power. 

Until I reside in greener pastures, his work through me complete, 
and he can lovingly call me home.

07.06.2021

Corona

delectable dolphins
dancing here
near harbor

Instead of gondolas
white swans float
like the boats

Animals,puff
healthily, gallivant
without tumult

A little bird's chirp
outreaches our ears
piercingly

A single word
has made crucial changes
across the world

And some creatures
are happy about it
and a few are not

We, the humans
are just like other creatures
before nature, the creator

Regrettably,
we pay a lot
to fathom the bitter fact

The Bowman's Shaft

The Bowman's Shaft

Solo archer gathers mist of amour clouds, dipping venturous arrow tips in a veiled concocted potion, drowning its mettle in a whimsical bliss of a dreamt liquefied mirage that defines the elixir,

Cupids errant arrow is liberated openly o'er the arc of a rainbow, exuberantly hunting its e'er sought Terra, whereto, it scarcely flutters passed feathered twain turtledoves,

Trifle off-track as projected, titillating a canine whose tail waggles unceasingly as its tongue laps remarkable welcoming faces,

Then piercingly redefines a right-angle course, that mids passionately, a well-managed bramble with shoots flowering in vivid red velvets,

Calculably sailing o'er gray-haired couple, whose one hand hugging canes and their free hands locking each other,

Promised target a fused-kissed envelope proffering treasured eloquence of, Missing You, in numerous expressions, introducing assorted confidences perceived by yearning intrepid bluish eyes whose heart grows e'er fonder.

2019 November 04

*2nd Place*

Metaphor of Love
~~Bobby May

Dying Forests

~
forest creatures weep
for all the dead, fallen trees
once giving shelter
~
wolves howl piercingly
crying out for woodland plants
to carpet their home
~
raccoons scamper past
searching out their lost breakfast
amid vanished creeks
~
possum wobble by
seeking their favorite den
where serpents hide out
~
deer scamper along
looking for signs of hunters
with yearnings for night
~

Doubt

You rested the pinnacle of your breast
Piercingly, against my chest
Seizing the breath in my lungs
My nostrils failed me
As your fragrance choked each and every opening
Until a second felt like an eon

I remember everything about my moments with you
Your embrace that is freezing and cold
The shadows of your breath
That darkened the iris of my eyes
Until all i can see is nothing
But the thick figure of fear

You whispered how much you've done for me
From the moment i first chose
Between 'this' and 'that'
Until the moment i must chose 
Between life and death
And this is now

But the question remains
Would i chose to live
Or would i chose to die
'Cos, if i live, i'm tagged 'logical'
And if i die, i become 'radical'
So, please help me decide

I'm alive and here
Because of you
All thanks to you
But could i have been better
Or even livelier
Now that's a tug within you

I've held unto you
For the length of my two-and-a-half-yard-life
Trying to be logical
But now,
I'm beginning to doubt you, DOUBT
For this is the time for me to be radical

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