In Arabian singsong, the dancer began
Searching for tempo in desert sands
Torso twisting and turning to the rhythm of time
With a toss of her head and a shake of her mane
Tambourines rang, spectators clapped
the dancer transformed, shot into his lap
Wriggling her belly and lighting his fire
she struggled to control her desire…
… At the end of the night, slumped over, frail, spent
too many years barely paying the rent
Tall, proud, somewhat conceited,
the elegant yacht sailed into the bay
(a place of meetings,
snuggery to a medley of lesser idols)
as a swan takes to a lake.
It dropped anchor,
aloof from the rest,
aware of the stare of covetous eyes,
it basked in calm waters.
Come night, its garland of lights
illumine the grace of a presence;
a rarity, speaking of riches,
unimaginable wealth;
dipping and bowing in exaggerated gestures:
a language all its own.
At the break of day, it set sail once more,
on a broad reach leaving the barnacled bay behind,
distancing itself from the blue bay’s waters,
the green of its eyes.
Yet, miles away on a distant shore,
once fierce waves, now a dying wake
make a gentle ripple
shifting the sands of envy
even as memory of its billowing sails
vanishes over the horizon
urged on by the persistence of protective winds.
(1st Prize in Craig Cornish's A Broad Reach Contest)
New Hampshire winters
late October arrival
Snow, snow, snow, snow
raw survival
More and more, just piled on
grand for winter sports
if you are a ‘winter sport’…
Come mid-April, Boston's alive with flowers
but up there in New Hampshire
no such revival
~ snow gone viral
sleeping through the night
sealing its fate till next wave
water coats the sand
When crossing the road
or walking the sands
come rain or shine
we'd hold hands
less a habit more by design
I'd gently enfold yours in mine
and while sitting on the sofa
always held you tight
wrapped my arms around you
as we kissed goodnight
then dancing to the music
you were the Belle of the ball
it looks to me we seem to be
in a holding pattern after all
If it's not too late
and you can relate
I'll state my position
as my fate I await
destiny or volition
as it is writ
in the fullness of time
the fan it will hit
meanwhile I'll
follow my dream
go against the flow
and swim upstream
The sounds of boots on the sands
Soles imprinted deep into posterity
Steady matching under the soft glow of hope
The gallant steps of the mighty men
I saw the weights tied around their waist
The stench of cold, ghastly death
The ears bleeding from the wails of the forgotten
The forgotten. Soles imprinted in the sands.
I looked again and I saw the eager
Soaring farther into the forlorn sky
I smiled as more men pass by
The mark of hope on their forehead.
Whispers within the digital
The journey
The experience
Footsteps left behind
The walk through
Breaking barriers
Mind preparation
Dreams to master
Time after Time
Courage in confident
Assured on all bounds
Maneuvering through one’s own hour glass
Test of time
Quick and precise
Connection full of advice
Sometimes disturbing, but had to listen and carry on
The embracing sand of time
Footsteps left behind like blueprints
Accomplishment that followed
Sands upon sands of everlasting
Head up and walkout in confidence
WAVES
ripples
curving shapes
sweet recollections
of cuddling sands on beach
during dreamy days of youth
"footprints on shore fade in a while."
Always hop on a chance to jet-set,
travel as far and as often as you can.
I never want to have postcard regret.
Stay mindful you don't need a plan,
This is not always the easiest task.
Spontaneous adventures? I'm a fan.
Wearing a sunscreen lotion's mask
I'm ready to indulge in far off lands.
Under foreign sunshine I long to bask.
Let the memories tattoo your hands
making art out of picturesque sands.
IN THE SEA OF LIFE AND THE SANDS OF TIME
As the sun continues to rise,
As the moon continues to wane and wax,
Here I am, continuing to wave on
The wrinkling sea of life, streaming to its shores,
To froth and seep deep into the waiting sands of time;
Here to canvas clanging conch-like echoing footprints:-
As the sun continues to set and rise
And as the waters of the sea of life continue
To evaporate to freshly, freely rise again,
I likewise, continue to fall asleep and rise again
In the circadian rhythms of time’s clocking
Of the ebb and flow of my mission-purpose: poetic
Cistern-sharing of divine wisdom, guidance, and love:-
Once experienced deserts of oasis have had their day,
And are now overcome valleys of the shadows of death;
I now know that where love is there’s peace and no fear of fear:-
And though I’ve had storms in life’s sea, I’ve sailed them, Paul-like
And I’m now on the shores of time, breathing God’s breath of wisdom:-
As the sun continues to rise and set, and the moon likewise wane and wax,
I shall continue to pour out clanging echoes to my fellow poets like all of you:-
Shifting standards in drifting sands,
where forgiveness is a sundae treat,
spins the wheel of fortune
to shuffle-card mode.
Where truth is discounted,
by dealing cards face-up,
and uncounted.
Silent Shore Hiku 30
sand whispers softly,
waves gently kiss the shore~
nature`s sweet embrace.
on the s..a..n..d..s of t—i—m—e
truth of your l~o~v~e I e
n
g
r
ave~
l~o~v~e’s permanence stays
whichever p
a
t
h
c••a••l••l••s
I'll s
t
a
n
d with my truest l~o~v~e~
falsehood f~~a~~d~~e~~s a
w
a
y
Contest: YOUR CHOICE y
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Contest Judged: June 14th, 2025 6:42:00 AM
Placement: First
Aging Hiku 26
s. a. n. d. s of time drip on
s-t-e-m and l ~e~ a~ v~ e~ s wilting away~
w-i-s-d-o-m waltzing strong.
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