Transporting Poems | Examples

ROSE COLORED GLASSES

ROSE-COLORED GLASSES
“When you think about a show that you used to watch as a kid or as a teenager, you look at it through sort of rose-colored glasses…”Jordana Brewster
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In memory’s soft glow, 
the TV screen flickers alive,
time stretches like taffy,
the theme song lingers, a melody 
transporting me through the portal of childhood.

The laughter of a cartoon,
the adventure of a western,
the wisdom of a sitcom,
a sprinkle of magic dust,
and suddenly, the mundane was extraordinary.

In the sepia tones of nostalgia,
I find a bittersweet truth:
the rose-colored glasses
tint the past with warmth,
softening the edges of reality.

those moments, though fleeting,
are the roots of who I am,
the laughter still lingers,
and the magic?
It lives on, like a rerun.

train whistle thoughts

train whistle,
 a seldom heard sound, long and low this morning
I wonder if this train is transporting people or cattle
or people treated like cattle
or cattle dressed like people

Breaking, Escaping My Doldrums

Being in a rut is driving me nuts.
I feel trapped in this doldrums.
In my mind, I am screaming …
Please, somebody! Get me out!

Writing is hard, nothing comes to mind.
Going out is tough, even to the market.
All I do is read, transporting me to Boston,
and Vermont, the settings of the stories.

Need to write, but my muse is not around.
Need to move, but cannot find my groove. 

Breathe! Need to do something, do something …
Ahhh, put make up on, a leather mini skirt to
show sexy legs, a halter hot pink top and now
I feel hot, hot, hot … ole, ole … bye, doldrums!

Dips Of Appetizers

I roam on an alley in stillness
My heels barely scratching the ground
As I recall your mouth sampling
Camembert and tang of pickles,
And weekends thereafter, same same
Dose of appetizers; laughter dripping
From your replayed stories...the taste
of cocktails, your skin just as intense.

Like so, spring arrives with the madness
of fleeting twilight....your  dulcet breath  
vicious and abrupt that my heart asks
for owned affection,for gentle walks
in the park:   From a mantle of stars
my hands quiver from aloneness--
because there is no longer an ardor  
transporting us to unlimited fermented dips;
The flavor of cheese and pickled cucumber
turns into vinegar-- rancid, sour,  ferocious:

Yet, in  finely-spun of mornings, I miss the chase.

AM PM Revisited

I wrote this on a bus ride through the city
An early morning excursion with no sleep
A chance encounter flooded by unknown 
Original reference AM/PM 26 years ago 
The gritty rhyme blindly spoke for itself 
Like the back of a smoke-filled jazz club 
Notes transporting me to another place 
Destination decided with no destiny 
For certain this was uncharted waters
A whispered verse beneath streetlights
Each syllable swaying with the potholes
Did I write this or did the city pen it?
Its pulse echoing in the hollow of my ribs
Doors hiss open stepping off into fog
A silhouette waiting for me at the curb
Eyes I’ve never met but already know
Together we disappeared into the abyss

The Human Blood Vessels

Our blood vessels are super magical
They are like wires interwoven together
Without entangling with each other
It's unique flowing like stream
Big and small lines busy working
Transporting blood in and out the body
All the way working non-stop 
If these vessels are connected
It measured 97,000 kilometers
It can travel the world over two times.

Brain Freeze

While transporting my brain 

Through the ethereal plane

A strange thought entered my mind 

Am I a link in the chain

Or am I going insane 

With no semblance of reason to find

Aah...that thought quickly passed

I was no longer aghast

And continued on my way 

From my first thought to last

Oh how it went by so fast

But still was one hell of a day

saturday afternoon

Reading another poetry anthology 

Looking at the words; thinking mirrors, 

Reflecting no image, capturing my spirit.

Magician savants, transporting my feelings

Across life’s terrain with eyes that feel 

The heartbeat of the stones, 

The breath of every tree, 

And the memory of every Poet

That has ever lived.

My Drunken Lover

I fell in love with a Drunken Poet
When with light My Grail He fills
Lyrical Creativity intercourse with pen and paper spill
With Rhymes and reasons salutations 
Filled so full, Colorful My imagination
Drunken poetry obliteration 
He drinks sooo much, his touch Intoxicating 
Slurry words with breath of sweet Rum
Penetrating and Pouring light until I succumb 
He woos with words and stirs Me up 
I have gotten addicted to his Liqueur syrup
Transporting my mind to Celestial Bliss
Overflowing with every Drunken Kiss
Drunk in Love, my heart Enshrined 
Top shelf Libation pours, He wants me to Shine
He slurred" let go baby, I'm yours, You're mine"
I got sooo drunk, couldn't hold My liquor 
Fondled My Pen, vomit on paper
He slurred, " Go on baby, it's best for your liver"
Now my  speech is liquored sweet ingredients to my potion
Drunken poetry creative recreation.


Shout out to Elliott Bowe>>>creator of drunken poetry.

Devil Fire

Choices
a reminder …
each one comes with a cost
Freedom won
or gallows hung
to gain what could be lost
Decisions
cross the tundra …
reforming time itself
Transporting ice
through devil fire
—one glacier left to melt

(Dreamsleep: November, 2023)

Five Point Eight On the Richter Scale

They say there's a first time for everything
My first time ever feeling the unsettling effects of an earthquake
Albeit, it was ONLY 5.8 on the Richter Scale
It happened during our holiday in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic
We were roughly 60 km from the epicentre
But still found it a little unsettling to say the least
The locals didn't even break a sweat
They experience on average 150 of them a year
However there was definitely some rocking 'n rolling going on
At first I thought it was one of those people movers going by
Transporting folks around the resort
Then realized... YIKES!
That was a FREAKING EARTHQUAKE!!!
All's well that ends well
And I'm still alive to tell my tale!
Great place to vacation but you wouldn't wanna live there!

Time Machine

The Time Machine is built and ready to try
Final preparations complete ready to say goodbye 
I would travel back to the day I was born
The machine fires up sending me airborne 
The next thing I know I am transporting my mom and myself from the birthing room
Looking at myself flashes great memories of days gone by
Now that I am seventy looking at me as a newborn I start to cry
I wonder what it would be like to start life over again
How would I change things from what it was like back then 
Suddenly an alarm goes off it was just a dream
It just goes to show things are never like they seem.

Breezy Bikeride

Transporting myself by bike-- 
on this scorching, dry-heat kind of day...
In His goodness, God sent the breeze, 
to refresh me along my way! :D

The Pendulum of My Soul

New surroundings breathing life into me,
My lungs fill with cool air, it’s sustaining,
Inhale, exhale… each breath: stress waning. 
Blood transporting excitement toward an apogee. 

Continuing to pump, this heart of mine,
With each beat powering this internal clock,
Sixty beats-per-minute, sounds of tick-tock,
Time slows down establishing new baseline. 

Swinging from a new equilibrium position,
My emotional pendulum keeps the pace,
Balancing the new way of life I embrace,
Preventing my mind splitting from social fission. 

Each moment an opportunity for refreshed soul, 
Taking it slow and breathing it all in carefully,
Every breath, filling these lungs heartily,
To live a full life each minute; my new goal.

Stardust Dreams

Leftover from summer’s grace
Restoring hope and thanks
With hues so vibrant, scarlet shades
Dancing wings, swaying petals
Flames – brilliant like the passions
They embrace, kissing away every
Doubt, all the shadows…

Striking like the silent tear,
Touching hearts with shimmering
Dreams, whispered on a prayer
Transporting the soul into 
Fantasies that sing to the spirit
Return joy to the minute
When the glow of bold, blood-red
Mysteries remember…

The cardinal and the rose glimpse
Pieces of wishes, yearnings…

The sPiriT’s muse in blazing - Obsessive creativity – burning
Away every fear, every tear, all the past
Where there abides the night’s gasp, soaring stardust





The Cardinal and the Rose Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish 
December 23, 2022

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