Swaths Poems | Examples

something new

oh, how perfectly you drape
        swaths of moonlite on your shape
            now you've chosen its soft blue
    for this night of something ... new

you've decided we're too single
        that we need fresh ways to mingle
            so, if you'll grant me the dative
    methinks we should get creative

I'm hoping these night sweats'll
        find our limbs wound to a pretzel
            you and I, one limber body
    twisted close, and rather knotty

could it be, we're going too far
        with this night of karma sutra?
            still, the shapes have just begun
    and we're having so much fun

though I think our best positions
        come between, in the transitions
            for like ALL in life we savor ...
    it's the tasting ... not the flavor.




Copyright © 2018 Gregory Richard Barden

Lawn Care

The sun is high in the summer sky
And no clouds to be seen
The grass is high neath the summer sky
And growing tall and green
The mower starts with growling roar
And cuts through swaths of fescue
This mowing proves a sweaty chore
And soon I beg for rescue
My lawn’s expanse appears to grow
The longer that I labor
Seems to expand as I cut each row
The mower becomes my sabre
And I a true knight dueling a foe
Who laughs at my every advance
He stands unyielding before each blow
And about the green our martial dance
With never a sign of surrender
The fight goes on between us two
Which shall prove to be the pretender
Victory comes with the aim that’s true
And at last my foe lies low
Beneath the heel of the victor
Yet even now it grows
Who shall win next Saturday?
Sadly there is no predictor

baby daddy

How many women here
have been impregnated
by Elon Musk? looking for hands

He plans to repopulate the planet
single handedly - well, not handed
exactly - you know what I mean.

In Australia, great swaths of Texas,
and of course Mar-a-Lago, he’s a serial offender,
because his sperm is legal tender.

Factoid: you might catch a disease,
he’s sleeping with everyone north of Belize
and several of them, frankly, look sleazy.

Of course, you’d have to listen to him talk. shivers
Unless you say, “Hey, can we do this without conversation?”
That’s when you’d slip on your sleep mask, and, well, you know.
But what would you be thinking about?
.
.
FUN! by KiNG MALA [E]
BLOODONTHETIMBS by Bren Joy  [E]

The Heart Knows What The Mind Doesn't

Believing in you is
Being just you, the simplicity of you
Embracing each twist and turn
Stepping outside the confines of your mind 
Revealing truths and bringing clarity in chaos
Engaging in the art of the here and now
Changing dark unnecessary innateness
Diving into each brushstroke, swaths of colorways 
Letting the moment paint a masterpiece uniquely yours
Freeing up the shackles of the mind
Feeling compassion of heart and soul
Taking a voyage to the center of universal reality~
Shedding many prejudices indelibly embedded in thought
Unmasking anxieties that do not change the world,
serving only to distract causing mental coil
Trusting your instincts is your compass
Off putting, although valuable truth may be 
a diamond amidst pebbles
Experiencing every morsel of life’s banquette

Abstraction a Freed Verse

ASTRACTION 

unpredictable
intersecting lines
 swaths of colour
 added
by a  chance
autonomous
process

reflexive
   echoing
intensive
 to coincide
in response

Swaths of Death

Violent swaths of death, 
      a ghastly sight.
Blood-soaked soil, a 
      canvas of blight.
Screams of agony pierce 
      the nights veil,
Echoes of honor, a 
       mournful tale.

Deaths visage, haunting    
        scene to behold,
Their last breaths, a 
         story untold.
Gruesome remains, a  
          twisted art, of 
 mans cruelty, a world 
           torn apart.

My Dream Vacation

Tucked high into a saddle in the hills,
Set far above a river vale below,
With wooded glades and waters calm and still,
I cannot think a finer place to go.

A daybreak in the east will steal your breath:
Tequila sunrise bathed in swaths of pink.
A breeze is gently blowing ‘round the hill;
The solitude gives ample space to think.

The redbuds are in bloom in fuchsia hues.
The pileated drums beat out grub wars.
New life abounds, emerging from decay.
Above, a lazy red hawk circling, soars. 

When I’m away, I long here to return,
To wander oaken trails and hillsides roam.
My dream vacation, here before my eyes;
I pinch myself, for I’ve arrived back home.

————-


Seventh Place Winner
For the My Dream Vacation Poetry Contest
Sponsored by L Milton Hankins
Written 03/04/2022

The Magic

is growing older isn’t it?

The magician put down his rabbit last tuesday
Because it was too tired to come out of the hat
It was starting to bite
And it wouldn’t eat

The fortune teller on Portabello road closed up shop
I saw his crystal ball broken on the street
The only thing he hopes to see 
in a palm now is a penny
No longer a lifeline

Salem’s finest have all but gone extinct
The greatest granddaughter of Tituba 
Doesn’t know why her ancestors call to her
She cannot even light a candle

Even Aphrodite in her swaths of silk and satin
Hesitates to look in the mirror these days
She hasn’t been on a date in years
And time is catching up

South African Sky Is the Limitless Limit

I
At dawn, this sky is superior to America
Creator-Painter has a palette and more
With Colors, Flavors, Rulers, Mixes galore
Some fold over swaths of cloud, other days
We see a billion sheep, none, or Blue and One
At dawn, dark and lightening pink shocks beauty awake

II
Unlike America's congested skies, these are pristine
Stargazers know our skies well; they come often
And though smaller in size, proportion, creativity, we can
Be real as American genius (Elon Musk is 1; Trevor Noah 2)
Now we have democracy, may we be led by Jesus and wishes
From well-wishers like you: Build another real PLESANT America
In South Africa. The sky is the limit, or heaven. Yes leaven
is the Sin Metaphor Jesus deployed: We must overcome as one

Vagabond Dreams

Evening's glow means supper is over
and it's time for my pipe and tobacco to find my porch
where I will sit alone 
and the only sound is the creaking of my chair
as I rock back and forth
to watch sunsets in the skies of absorbed light
giving rendered edges to starlights dim
rotating across the vast expanse like a slow carousel
as my soul rides along
hoping to be granted access to wandering dreams
unimagined nor dreamt by gatherers
whose needs are to reap man-made objects of no importance
and fighting to see who ends up with the largest pile
as others argue among themselves over large swaths of Earth
that they can never own
I would rather sit and smoke my pipe
and catch the wandering dreams
of silent rapture and wishful treasure
at the end of a long day

8/29/21
contest Vagabond Dreams
sponsor Craig Cornish

What Is Right Is Right

I can feel my waters
Stirred breath
ready to shed my uncertainty
serenity felt 
at my cerebral knowing
the hurricane that is brewing
along our tidal banks
      holding my calm precious
      aroused by complacent absurdity
      senseless ambiguity
      to keeping the candle lit or snuffed
      Society in peril
sweeping winds of pretentious 
needs of our resistance 
 greedy hands will
 cut swaths of verticil
 barren our hearts will be on the land
 our compass has come home 
 for us to stand against the wailing cry
         my silence no more has ability
         though alone I may stand
         sometimes this hill is enough 
         soon our gale could prevail
         I see layers built to last the weather
  seedlings blown 
  against the shore’s beginning
  grown fearless against the tides push
  strong steadfast pathways
  taken through hard questions asked
  scattered across paroxysmal lands
  narrowed by corrupted lies
        still, what’s right by your lived creed
       what’s right is right, what’s
        Right with the wind

7-11-2020

Sublime, My Sprinkler

See her reach 'cross wide swaths of green

  Magic fingers, droplets ~ rainbow's sheen

Is Our Arrogance So Strong - In the Wake of the Corona Virus

Are those tears of sorrow or pure wrath,
God’s anger at mankind
Put on earth to tread his path,
Just to see us stumbling blind.

Little knowing, quite uncaring
Of our world so full of life,
Wanton damage truly glaring,
Callous actions clearly rife.

Have we suddenly forgotten,
Is our arrogance that strong,
That we too were once downtrodden,
But a cog in nature’s throng.

Now we act as Lord and Master,
Spitting sentence with huge swaths,
Destruction fostered ever faster
Life’s fabric swarmed by human moths.

Time to pause, soak in the wonder
At Earth’s bounty in all it’s forms, 
Embrace God’s gift and stop the plunder,
Live our lives by Nature’s norms.

So Much Optimism

In the absence of complication,
trials and tribulations become distant memories.
So many wonderful moments.
Distorted in the exact right ways.
Becoming more cherished at each thought.
In the absence of truth,
stress and disappointment enter your dendrite field.
So let’s not have that.
Instead, let us rejoice and cherish 
Each moment for it is ours
and ours alone.


Above sapphire skies delight sanguine eyes -
inspiring forthcoming musings of the mind.
So much optimism!
So much hope!
Wide swaths of faith!
Whether you are religious or not,
Spirituality is alive and well in your heart.
Your mind recognizes this at a mystical level.
Above this earthly plane, angelic hosts
lift us onto their laps during sleep times,
nurturing us softly so we can hear our unique voices.
Ah, sweet sleep.
Nurturing us gently.
Thank you ever so much!

Written 11-21-2019
Sponsor: Silent One
Contest:  Complete The Poem, in the Absence of Complication

Sea of Collateral Carnage

See the human debris,
the scattered limbs torn apart
by shrapnel velocity

In so many Third World places,
the second-hand groan grafters
commit mercantile murder
in the first degree

Time encapsulated buried hatred
leech covetously
Flooding the colonial lands with booby-trap misery
Tick-tock waves of disfigurement crimes 
against humanity

Collateral damage seep in deadpool faces ...
dark moral cavities,
where maimed charity bleeds

Mental scarlet stains of pain
are strewn everywhere
Empty eye sockets are separated
by full-metal piercings

Observe the void spaces between desensitized ears:
Lynch pinheads be blunt instruments 
using indiscriminate force — 
Spreading teary shattered hopes of detached fears

Awaken numb senses
to the non-negotiated reality
of prosthetic dreams

Dry sea of grief ... 
landmine of crimson carnage
Deathly halt feelings collect the debt
paid by the broken living pieces 

Why is there only morphine comfort
in hidden swaths of shame,
where phantom limb emotions
have metallic waves of saline releases?

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