Slanting Poems | Examples

human folly : haiku

         slanting hue 

              sink every desire due  ~

                        cackle at humans

Woodsmoke, Laughter, and Warmth

Woodsmoke, Laughter, and Warmth

Sunlight slanting through pines,
the creak's cold whisper,
a child's echo of laughter.
Bare feet on smooth stones, slick with moss.
Ankle-deep in melted snow, a shiver on the skin.
The taste of distant winter, sharp and clean.
Splintered light on the water's surface,
a fleeting mirror of a girl's wonder.

Flickering flames,
a circle of warmth,
faces I know by heart.
The mountain's breath a memory.
Drying by the fire,
the scent of woodsmoke clinging to a wet t-shirt.
Laughter, a low hum of stories,
spun in the smoke that rises and disappears.
Hands held out to the heat,
the red glow on fingertips.
The day a perfect circle, beginning and ending here.
A final, deep breath before the chill returns.

Christmas

Christmas is a long song sung in winter,
An epic poem written with white quill feather pen and
Gold ink, and on clouds of paper,
Beginning from a sneezing December to a
Dizzying twelfth-calendar month,
When snow drizzles gently into the souls of
Those who hearken to the tinkling sound of
The church bell which rings gently with the weight of
The slow-passing season.

I see whiteness in every song, with so much redness;
Regal and romantic; flagrantly friendly.
Oh, how pure!
Oh, how sweet!
Well, that’s Christmas.
It lights up the courage in us to think right and assume
Merriment in the warmness of some frozen hearts.
It’s the best time of the year.
I swear to this because I am a child of Christmas.
It’s a time of fog and dew and sleet that rebaptise us.
Let’s not forget the slanting rain whose liquid kisses us.
And white Christmas of snow-carpeted lands and seas.
There’s no other time or season like it.

So full of gentleness and love,
Christmas causes hearts to race s-l-o-w-l-y,
As the year races on to breast the tape of seasons.

Misty Childhood Vision

By calm childhood's brook, 
shafts of brash, slanting light  
shone through a dewy mist. 
From a stone, there I spied,
descending from a thread, 
dawn's angel from the dark.

Earth

as waterfalls tear* down my sheer cliffs – 
sculpted by time’s relentless tide 
defying the laws of nature
my age undefined; hidden
towering over my world – 
a beacon for lost souls
enduring …

an impressive beauty 
unapologetic
every angle precise
the lack of erosion 
an enigma
as defiant as youth 

the island suspended above the clouds 
where rare species flourish
unattended by the hand of mankind 
ageless banquettes of emotions
served on the tabletop
while impertinent shadows are teased out by 
soft slanting sunlight

waterfalls of tears
wouldn’t erode
my façade 

the command for respect reticent—
     an enduring beauty 
         in suspension …

Reflections of the Past, Visions of the Future: A Traveller Arrives in Arezzo

The sun on this September afternoon
is not quite what it might have been in June,
but hot enough. My barman’s chatting on,
while somewhere, some lopsided carillon
is clanging tunelessly. I’m in the square
of San Francesco in Arezzo, where
I’ve longed to be for years. Rome’s far behind
(in fact it’s hard to summon Rome to mind,
albeit I was there not long ago.)
Tranquillity! I almost feel as though
I’ve plunged in freezing water. And the sight
of fiesta flags, inflamed by evening light
can make the heart start pumping. It’s too late
(for me) to learn to free-associate,
but what feels right, is right. I’m in a groove,
and who can say if I will ever move
from this precise position? Favourite pen,
a fine coarse notebook and “remember when” …
can life improve on this? When things combine,
we feel we’ve touched the hem of The Divine:
perhaps I’m heading for a nuclear fall,
but sunlight slanting on that craggy wall
is just as good as (better than, perhaps)
a coffee in that place from “Google Maps”.
Until I found Palazzo Guillichini
Gregorio, life’s classic “in-betweeny”
was lost to me: but I, “traquer le lièvre”,
can get the story from the cause célèbre.

Sun's Mandate

The sun, a brass gong,
a brassy, blazing command,
it wakes the world,
with a fiery, golden hand.

The air, a hesitant breath,
in a nascent, cool embrace,
now exhales,
warming with the sun's grace.

The earth, a jade canvas,
in emerald light, it lies,
dappled, vibrant,
shimmering under golden skies.

The trees, a verdant legion,
stand tall,
reaching for the sun's rays,
in an arboreal, vibrant thrall.

And then, a slow descent,
the sun, a tilted coin,
it's light, a slanting fire,
on a canvas, now stained with wine.

The earth, in ochre draped,
hushed, in golden afterglow,
embraces the waning sun,
as shadows lengthen, softly grow.

The wind, a sigh of cool air,
brushes the twilight sky,
with the day's farewell,
as night's curtain begins to lie.

And on the tongue, the lingering taste,
of sunlit warmth,
a fading, sun-kissed sigh,
a promise of dawn, in the heart of the night.

Hart Island

When night calls moaning winds to come
‘midst chilling currents from the Sound
Hart Island’s hidden souls rest from
life’s heartaches known above the ground. 

Come hear the raven’s haunting cries
as slanting shadows overtake 
to grip forgotten graves that lie
in scattered fields’ neglected state. 

An ancient tarnished bell is rung
by nothing save the wailing winds
its clanging haunts, it’s notes are flung
like pleading cries to cover sins. 

Forbidden shores where tombstones lie
a hallowed ground ‘neath stormy skies. 







10/310/2023

Reflections

When the evening sun
is slanting just so,
let us take a picture
of us both reflected,
heads tilted together
in a shaded body of water.

Maybe we will, by chance,
capture a lone eagle circling above us,
or perhaps two mourning doves.
billing and cooing
mirrored there
in a chilly Ohio lake.

In the paling
contrails of amity,
will that likeness
remain as a depiction
of unbroken love,

or will it slip away
in spans and spells,
but an image
of an unmasked memory,
one to be swiftly swiped
left or right
inside a cellphone gallery?

How Beautiful You Are

High up shines the moon with an entourage of stars
Its shimmering rays like silvery gleaming bars
Come, sliding, slanting, and crashing down,
Making the sky and the earth in loveliness adorn

Moon, you are the unrivalled queen of the night.
With your charm, the world you greatly delight. 
To catch a glimpse of your lovely, luminous face 
To the high heavens, we raise our eager eyes.

In the quiescent quietude of a tranquil night 
In young hearts, love sparks you ignite.
Your shining visage greatly thrills every heart. 
“As the misty moon rides high," our sorrows depart.

The young and the old fall under your mesmerizing spell
We feel your aura, though in the faraway sky you dwell.
In the heavens, we can sight no other sphere on par,
And in elation, we whisper – “How beautiful you are!”

Graffiti On the Wall

narrow gray slanting
between the two poles
a crumbling wall
showing impressionist technique
muddy water flows into the wall
where migratory birds rest
swamp
grass without a name
exchanging words of love
swaying in the autumn wind
slightly taller than children
at the top are broken pieces of bottles
To keep the aged house free of stolen goods
are shining
Shining are the waves of the sea
Ocean waves crashing on the cliffs
at the end of the sea, before the dark blue horizon
preventing the sea from overflowing
and the wave-colored sail--
boat
hanging out
covering the sea
red leaves
swaying in the spring air.

Clouds

Who can know the mysterious 
ways of the clouds? 
They travel in white whipped masses
and gather like solemn pinnacles 
looking upwards in reverent penitence. 

Silent clouds slowly form and move about
like floating fields in a heavenly marsh
or like soft suspended pillows 
making themselves vulnerable
to the temperamental ways of the wind. 

Sometimes they seem almost helpless 
as they wander in a ghost like state
like wastrels, weighed down 
by the prospect of an impending storm. 

The yawning blue sky
has become quickly overwhelmed 
by clouds’ alluring apertures.
Now they collectively amass 
in billowing silence
crowding the vast 
sweeping hemisphere. 

Slanting sunlight breaks forth
to spar with clouds’ menacing shadows
that threaten to overtake the light
like competing shadow puppets
during a midday matinee. 

Clouds are endlessly breathtaking 
and appear seemingly mute 
except for faint whispers from the winds
as if time stopped to hold its breath
within the boundaries of earth and sky. 


4/18/2023

When Eyes of Turquoise Dyed the Skies

I see you ‘cross the vast expanse,
a love disguised in dreamy whirl
and clothed in raiment sun-spun gold
as wispy cirrus wraps your dance
the music of your sigh aswirl -
a breeze I feel but cannot hold,

but dance I will with memories
though for your arms I’ll ever pine,
I look to skies for bluest eyes 
at times behind the tapestries
of cumulus both yours and mine –
the realm in which my angel flies.

Our love so like the lilac leaf                                  
two halves that shared a center vein,                 
once green we were but now I fade             
I’m torn in half without relief
the pain not washed away by rain —
this heart-shaped leaf afraid and frayed.

O touch me warm your slanting rays
how cold my soul you left behind,
to gaze through tears at beauty high          
to wander through the haze of days
and know the planets misaligned —
when eyes of turquoise dyed the sky.

Alas, myself but cosmic dust 
yet still, the stardust gilts the rust.

The Nausea

everything uses cruelty to exist
everything has claws barbs poison
glass that falls breaks becomes a threat
bodies that jump and turn to blood
like the junkie from the 701
or miss rivotril from 904
so long not being what we are
missing when life slipped
little hurting when and if it hurt
are you on vacation up there?
does the manager remain absent?
tell me if you also wait
something that velvets the obtuse angles
something that applies painless bandages
that bring back the white clouds
mattresses to stop voluntary falls
something that keeps scissors cuts butchers away
and the harsh noises
and the slanting glances
something that soothes human agony
to have conscience and body
mercilessly tied to each other

The Shower of Ebullience

With the falling dusk the drizzling sky descends,
wavers with the rhythm of the rain drops, 
cascading within the soft musical torrent, 
channeled through the mystique twilight. 

The creeping clump of cloud melts afloat,
seeping the spectrum of the setting sun.
Rain drops sparkle in the slanting splash
on the dripping pane of my window. 

The rain of joy beguiles the lost youth
that returns innately inspired
to turn into rows of dancing rills, 
I feel roll on the panel of my heart.

I hear my heart sing the rain song, 
captivating for a while the melodic youth 
that wafts with the shower of ebullience
beyond the arch of rainbow ecstasy.

________________

November 11, 2022
Contest : Inspiring Rainy Days
Sponsored by : Sotto Poet

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