river threads through stones
soft patterns shaping the day
sunlight leans into the drift
I follow its trace
By Phan Tan Hai
At midnight I trace the ancient pages,
golden dust of centuries settling thick—
hearing echoes of brushes, swords, and ink
returning to rattle open a full-moon festival.
Summoning old spirits drifting in the wind,
the Master searches, translating page by page;
comparing characters, the long night shortens,
copying lines of poetry vast as the sea.
I hear the old zither strings break into tears,
soldiers urging horses, their cries ringing out.
The Master records the soul of ink and paper,
his beard and hair dyed white by a thousand clouds.
---- Respectfully dedicated to Professor Nguyen Van Sam
a lingering finger up then down the flow of a languished autumn
The lines of life become etched on each face, if age advances..Until we depart this place.' There are struggles
And some joy.' Some ask for more' Some are happy with
Less.' Then there are the evil (lovers of hate and war ) all
In one place, the world we know.. I have witnessed enough
Lord I know the way this goes.' And I see a hell is needed
A reward for those..Evil beyond all chance of redeeming I must suppose.? Saved for destruction..Validated by deep
Vice mockers now of Jesus and so to be confounded twice.'
a bubble eyed fly
walks down the arm of my chair
i trace his footprints
Trace my wrist there's something there
It has no strings but I don't care
I just want to feel your touch
Along the neck, trace overmuch
Try to trace me out a song
Of many parts, that's very long
Practice often now, the aim
Is one day when you trace your name
Somewhere within the misty shroud of heaven
A finger, traces angels, in the air
Wondering if they are truly present
Why they whisper dreams no one can hear
Soft tingle of a touch, a gentle “psst”
As testy as a lone mosquito’s buzz
Torturing the calm of dreamless sleep
When asked “why me” the answer is “because”
So, sleep in fitful murmurings, and dream
Of mists, of heaven’s shroud, of feathered wings
Etch lazily your dream upon the night
And ponder why it is you fear such things
As fingers trace their angels in the air
Lulled to sleep by voices they can’t hear
I surface with the morning rain,
a night blindness
opens its windows one by one.
No work to go to
so I write
casting shadows upon a caged sky.
Words appear beneath
a curled tongue.
I draw a sketch of black bones
and white spaces
arrange a runic code
into a stuttering speech.
A percolating coffee pot
sounds its reality alarm,
but it is far away
and I can hardly hear it.
Trace not your thought’s within the past,
not tasting what is forever gone,
wasting the mind from looking forward,
pleasing no one in the present,
wrong is gone and you must go on,
Leaving perfection to the perfect,
time will never catch up to you,
but it will waste away through you,
each moment is missed by dreaming,
take the real and give it reality,
for the real is true but it’s up to you,
stories from the past use in the present,
not dwelling upon your emotions.
clasp unto love and hold it,
see the sights and enjoy them,
hear the music playing and dance to it,
Smell the fragrance of life with wonder,
touch the sky and float on a cloud,
taste the flavors the world has created,
Live life while you are still alive.
From the moment my fingers traced my skin
Til the second I moaned,
It was your face on my mind
For 'Be Mine' Contest by Regina McIntosh
i had some vague dream
god gave me a blank canvas
to reshape my life
but after many attempts
one pattern kept emerging
Bite Size Poem no.9 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Syllable counter ps 5/7/5/7/7
24/6/2021
C-ontact tracing is fully
R-ealized, made, and done;
A-trocious ailment of lungs
I-s just over and
G-one.
M-ask in a fighter's face
I-s awesome and amazing;
Z-one of contagion is
E-rased by contact tracing.
Topic: Birthday of poet Craig Mize (June 17)
Trace these thought’s and find them
Creating our memories sublime
Let your mind wander
Searching through it to find mine
Place your tender lips upon these
Let our tongues meet in heaven
Tasting the richness of our souls
Let there be no other question
This Love shall never Decay
Contest: Writing Challenge - Decay
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Date Created: 09/21/2020
As winter winds pass harshly by,
from chilled room the slate sky I see,
long for the time when I’ll be free.
I wish the dark days bid goodbye,
scent of spring in breeze starts to flow,
as the dawn sky begins to glow.
When silk clouds will spread wings to fly
on my meadow in sunrise glare,
I’ll know love is in rippling air.
On tapestry of dream I’ll lie,
floating on zephyr of delight,
won’t let you go out of my sight.
My ardent fervor will soar high,
tracing butterfly’s latticed trail,
to your blooming garden I’ll sail.
As winter winds pass harshly by,
I wish the dark days bid goodbye,
when silk clouds will spread wings to fly,
on tapestry of dream I’ll lie,
my ardent fervor will soar high.
July 28, 2020
Syllable count : 8 each line
Checked on howmanysyllables.com
Rhyme checked on RhymeZone.com
Contest : Constanza-Old Or New Poems
Sponsor : Joseph May
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