Short Whorls Poems

A bouquet of fire beside a lake
Reflecting whorls in red opaque

19 Nov 2014...

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Winds wail, whorls of ice
Whispering on whitewashed walls 
Witness winter’s spice...

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star magic with whorls of glinting light, rolling across gogh's mind's night sky...

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regaling spring sniffs
.      streaming through whorls of flowers
         fill dad's autumn years...

Date Sept 21, 2016
Name of contest
Contest no211
Any form any theme...

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a fair wind stirs my orange 
pearl buried in the whorls of sand

cracked from the hard 
shell and mangled by rolling seas
venus lies

return my fallen vessel
let your sails unfurl...

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flushed swells at sunset
inflamed by pink skirted clouds…
-waves-
emote crimson whorls   

rainbow wisped currents
preen and crest as daylight wanes …
-waves-
fan their peacock tails...

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A veil of sadness
 was pierced,
 the fabric of sorrow
 ripped.

In moments
 a rippling silence
 eschewed.

I was liberated
 from a shroud
 that bound my grief,
 I am now a silken thread
 fixed to spin,

in silent whorls....

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See how the lowly myrtle
seduces the lordly pine. 
She entwines her arms 
around him,  he 
submits.  Beneath them
falls their issue: not 
flesh, nor sinew, nor bone, 
Only, sweet symmetrical 
cone, its perfect whorls 
and burls, the best 
of both worlds.
...

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I am frightfully fanciful,
My feather has a flourish
I am feeling foxy

My whorls and loops
Showing my stuff
Strutting

Yes I am a show off
Proudly and magnificently
Not everyone can do this
But I can

I am fancy
I write with a flourish
I am beyond reproach....

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Grief

a fluttering of moth wings
turns the air into minute
whorls of short breath.
space does a catstretch to infinity
then curls into a tight ball.

one, one, one

a word once insignificant
echoes through the mind
like midnight footsteps
on a drizzled cobble street.
alone...

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When you have become to me
as roses bloom, in memory,
exquisite, each sharp thorn forgot,
will I recall—yours made me bleed?

When winter makes me think of you—
whorls petrified in frozen dew,
bright promises blithe spring forsook,
will I recall your words—barbed, cruel?

Originally published by The Lyric...

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I dreamt of a pet from the long ago past
pale green eyes, in that classical cat pose
sitting just beyond a pane of frosted glass.
Amidst whorls of pearls and white roses
within the downy of that paw patter dream
nobody could see the precious vision but me...
as I awoke, offered a salted pearl of my own 
to the sweetened sun spray of dawn-...

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ten am, a July morning
There is a holy presence out here
I cannot see it, but I feel it 

I sense spiritual orbs and whorls 
invisible to my human eye
emitting from the streams of the sun’s dust streams

garden soaks up the rays like a starving man
marigolds, day lilies and lilac smile their appreciation
ruffled and pretty, delicate and fine...

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The spinning whorls
on the palms of girls
who  stroke your burning brow
the cryptic signs on valentines
that say I LOVE YOU now
  encoded tales of those who failed
to win their lovers hand
all this I see 
when you gaze at me
and make your secret plans
your furrowed brow
says tell me how
to win your fragile heart
you won't discern
what can't be learned
so let us 
live apart....

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They soar through space-scapes of
divine milky whorls and blue halos;
incandescent dandelion wishes
blown across nocturnal fields -
illuminating the imaginative expanse 

between eternities of cosmic dark ages and light years
are fiery pixies burning holes through obscurity
with passionate gold dust gilding awe -

souls arising fulfill their destinies


Susan Ashley 
August 13, 2019...

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beautiful red headed bucking star
brilliant whorls- green aurora eyed
quick minded sprinting faster than light
thought I could tame it-bring it to the knees
but she's also a teaser, artist supreme
painter of widows and orphan dreams
she bucked me off like all the rest
into a black wall of red star regrets
here we lie broken, gazing at the sky
praying for another chance for a
wild bucking star ride...

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Blush
fair skies 
mist Sol-kissed
citrine seduced 
mimosa clouds bask
dreamy in champagne light 

golden-god’s sparkle fills
chalices roused and
rouged as poppies
hail dawn with
unfurled 
whorls


Susan Ashley
August 16, 2021


~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Merse 
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudhury


*rouged: verb; French; colored red*

*image: Nature Wallpapers > Fields > Poppy field at sunrise*...

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Sorrow-eyed, harp in hand began to chant a tale. 
Like gossamer threads dulcet whispers waver near evening gale; 
swarms in cunning swirls and whorls and drawn 
at the edge then wake trailing off with the morning dawn. 
Softness of water silk falling into a mere sigh 
warm embrace within the dim as it holds up the sky.


3/20/2019

Poetry Contest: Pick A Title, Vol. 2 - Rhyme - 4. Hold Up The Sky
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh...

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mind as big as the universe

thoughts are stars
that travel through 
the empty spaces
between galaxies
searching for home.

the conundrum of galactic
whorls; coloured for spite
by gods who love to scramble 
eggs, of a morning, into limpid 
gases of guess work.

we pray to the he/she/it up there 
like firing rockets of exploration 
into the unknown
expecting answers and acts
from a being on a throne.
													`...

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Grandmother Spider was constructing an intricate web
Full of dainty loops and whorls, to catch humans unaware.
She incorporated ideas they could have never had during the day
Their imaginations are on fire during REM sleep slumber.

Grandma Spider recognized this, letting them dance and sing
Some caught fire and ran toward their muses
Others blew away in the dust upon their awakening.
Grandmother Spider never gave up trying. She was a dream-weaver,...

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Perched on a windowsill among thorns but few
Basked a budding blossom luminous with  dew
Glossy petals bowed in  state of unfurl
Secrets etched within the dense whorls
Fragrant with  aura of divine intrigue
Redolent and pulsating with mystique
Stole its way across into my heart
A solitary bloom, on my way to mart

Contest Beautiful
Date Feb14 2017
Resubmitting for
' 8 lines of beauty-Lyric' Contest
Sponsored by Rick Parise 

Date June 26  2017...

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Human shark moving through life
forcing water through primitive gills.
I must keep moving forward,
it would be a disaster to stop
and consider the world's ills.
I'd choke on my part in them.

As long as I can keep moving,
no one can pin me down.
The eddies and whorls of my wake
toss lesser creatures around.
The pilot fish attached to me
struggle to hang on.

One sweep of my tail
propels me forward,
no need to consider
the chaos I've loosed behind....

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Palm reading is more detailed than you might believe.
Mounts, whorls, lines, crosses, bracelets with meaning.
There is a plethora of reference books; many are thorough.
I study them when I think of it but am still confused.
I think there is an art and possibly a legacy to being good at this.
An expert does not have to look at the books; but I do.
When you are born into this, I think it comes naturally. 
I see the natural readers and I feel inept and floundering....

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I walk in and walk out, but remain in a daze
My feet fall through footsteps, my head hurts through haze
I've turned on my heel, feel tattered and torn 
Don't know if I exit or enter the morn
The blood red speckles seem to gather at pace
I run as through sludge, which obscures just my face
I'm still quite distinct from the tunnels and swirls
Though lost in the forwards and backwards of whorls
I march ever onwards, no end do I find
For I'm tethered to night time, forever entwined...

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