The golden stain of the sunshine
Made the sea water shine like gold
And gave egrets at the coastline
The golden stain.
The egrets came with their household,
To make the water like their shrine,
Their beaks and wings defied the cold.
Young egrets stayed at the shoreline~
Their playful nature they unfold,
Still gifting the twilight skyline
The golden stain.
Contest Title: One In Five
Contest Judged: July 6th, 2025 6:34:00 PM
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Placement: Third
This is our black shrine,
Where my father lit the lamp.
With dried dung in the cauldron,
My mother stoked the fire.
In the village, the sheepfold remains,
Where the ewes gave birth to lambs,
Their tails covered in dust,
The camels cried out for their calves.
Everything stayed far away,
When we moved to the city.
But my parents lit a flame,
So the shrine's fire won't extinguish!
I grew up learning farming,
Watering sheep, tending livestock,
Received plenty of guidance,
From the small yard I knew.
A kind mother's heart, worrying for her child,
Her "May you thrive" curses soothed my soul.
Parents are the critics of their child,
May they forgive my mistakes...
I brought them with me to the city,
Keeping the shrine's fire alive.
After turning twelve,
I cut hay with sickle and scythe.
Being the youngest in the house,
I tended the samovar's flame.
While guiding me through life,
the youngest of the shrine,
My parents rejoiced,
seeing I could light the fire.
In this house, like my father,
I will now be the owner.
Above me, without rest,
Stands the spirit of the black shrine!
A whirlwind of emotions
A cyclone of wandering thoughts
A tempest of trepidation
That leaves me baffled and distraught
The devastation of my battling mind
Wreaks havoc in the soul's sacred shrine.
Ancient building, columns define. Eden’s forever garden hidden. Indelibly juxtapositioned kaleidoscopic lake maintains numerous orchidaceae. Porticos’ quaint, reclused, sequestered. Tetrastylon unseen villa’s with xystus, Yogananda’s Zen.
A full glass of red wine,
each time I choose to dine.
It always makes me feel fine,
as if I need it to always shine.
In my body, it builds a shrine:
it's my own sacred lifeline.
I got it from a grapevine,
A bond I entwine,
as now mine:
online
in line,
It's divine.
I can never again decline.
It isn't for a drinking spree.
A glass a day brings joy to me.
Not as much alcohol as in spirit,
to get drunk on it, I definitely flee.
so as to get good health for free
and light my heart up with glee.
Like taking a cup of tea.
Longlife, just the key,
Doctors' plea.
As I see.
I agree.
Let it be.
On my knee.
With health, can't be carefree.
Mother gives birth to a child risking her life,
Right from the conception taking every care!
Touching fondly, the baby bump of his wife,
The same amount of joy the husband does share!
Minding least about their each and every strife,
The right ambience for their child they prepare!
The womb of the mother is a holy shrine,
Giving birth to a child is truly divine!
Quote: “The forest is my loyal friend A Delphic shrine to me.” Emerson
Forest, a Delphic shrine,
In woods where shadows dance in dappled light,
The forest stands in depths of day or night,
Where secrets prevail in sky’s solitude.
Beneath the canopy of ancient trees,
Whose whispered tales caress the breeze's song,
The rustling leaves, a chorus soft and low,
Their wisdom echoes through the sylvan glade.
I roam in the enchanted verdant halls,
Struggling, and hoping,
Searching the hidden truths in your silent realm,
And the zephyr tells me,” Here your soul will find sweet solace”.
"Shrine"
There I was,
scattered,
the pieces of me
washing back
into the shore
I walked, again,
out of the ocean,
on different feet
and legs into
the other world,
where I began;
laid before me
a story unread,
somehow familiar,
an odd sacrament
on an alter
raised
for a bed,
to sleep
to dream
again,
I lay down
to rest my head,
so very very tired
perhaps alive
not dead,
just a space to dream,
to wake somewhere
in the in-between,
to converse
with the guardians
a mystery;
to secure through
contract
without token,
what was stolen,
the beautiful dream,
taken
back
again
in perpetuum mea
in perpetuum
in perpetuum filia mea
in perpetuum mea
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
9.00 am he was at kine's shrine,
9.00 pm luck began to shine,
10.00 pm everything just fine;
Over nothing again to pine...
"Of all gods The Handsomest: kine!
Gone he had to its shrine with wine
To change life that tasted like brine,
Soon begin to with icons dine,
And clinch Mr President's line!
Everyday to be there at Nine
And reproduce an agreed sign;
And say:"Hottest Hell is mine;
On the last day shen't fail to whine
My heart,liver and kidneys thine"
SUN SHRINE
beauty
still
mesmerises
& jostles
for perfection
thr
curious
stretch
ahead
the
innovative
energy
a magnetism
to
adore
pitched up
dilapidated
an image
of
primitive
simplicity
to seek
solace
in the excitement
of
otherworldly
light
its concept
stores
a
complex
of surprise
to delight
& inspire
a
rugged
natural beauty
of fond memories
of
the
unconventional
in attitudes
a revelation
ripe with
possibility
of self-discovery
&
interactions
to convey
stillness
rapidly growing
silence
is trying
to convey
peace
an appearance
petrified
at the forefront
so prominent
a trail
of
almost
seamless
tradition
forced
to make
the absence
inextricably
restless
so conducive
&liberated
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
One
showing
herself to
precious few,
a moving Marian apparition.
Ah, but for one glimpse of the saintly soul,
A prayerful
long journey
to view
Her.
Once I felt that love was mine
I nevermore worshiped at her shrine
I should have known what would come next
On my tombstone these words ~ ‘her ex’
Mazar ka jo mein gadinasheen hota
To paisa kamanay me bara zaheen hota
Garmiyon mein AC sardiyon me heater
Koi paon dabata koi pani pilata
Koi apni larki ka rishta lata
Mazar ka jo mein gadinasheen hota
To paisa kamanay me bara zaheen hota
Zameenay meri har sobay mein hotin
Thanay kehchari valay bhi sir jhukatay
Log mujhay Peer keh kar bulatay
Mazar ka jo mein gadinasheen hota
To paisa kamanay mein bara zaheen hota.
Eyes wide in wonder I entered the chapel
a curious child
through the back door of the church
candles twinkling in the dim light
streaming through the stained glass
like colored candy
like lollipops
statues of saints standing sentry in silence
staring soullessly
I startled for a moment as I thought I saw one move
an illusion of light and shadow
from the flames flitting and flickering
the white wax melting and pooling
Veiled women and bearded men with sandaled feet
A man’s body bloodied and broken
held in his mourning mother’s arms
carved in marble
Morbid monuments to cruelty
A shrine to suffering
The air heavy as velvet curtains
The scent of incense suffocating
The ambiance eerie and funereal
Was he watching me? Was he here?
I called out
my voice echoing off the brick and stone
There was no answer
I was alone
After a momentary look
And a longer one I took
At the size of her ordered wood,
While I, still stood,
I surrounded that our cook
Is some sure crook,
Her motives a completely readable book,
Her inner spirit reached with my hook…
And in her spirit saw I not a spook
But upon what I stumbled thrice shook:
I’d swear at a shrine A crook of a cook.
Related Poems