Turnings Poems | Examples

A History of Ghosts

For generations raps, taps and table turnings were
the signs of a spirit calling; the ghoul of you trying to 
deliver a message - to finish unfinished business and 
sleep an everlasting slumber in the clouds above. 
The presence of a loved one floated in white light, 
apparitions waving at the end of a tunnel bright. Icy mists 
hovered around graveyards, phantoms clawing and cawing at 
sanctified earth. Spectres clinked chains with warnings dire.
Clocks stopped. Widows wore black. Families, trapped in the 
amber of grief, took portraits with their beloved deceased.
A memento of the living.

Now, you just ghost me on Tinder.

Revelation Repeated

Awareness floods my veins
The eyes are open now
Truth fills the soul,
Rushes into the hidden corners
Revelations fall into place
Snap to attention
Like dominoes or perfect solitaire

Razors chilled to freezing
Slice my mind,
Galvanize my sight
While ice claws my lungs---
Breath slowing to a ragged rattle,
I can't think,
I can only write my reactions
To my crucifixion
At your unwitting hands---

Sometimes the pain isn't so blatant.
Sometimes it's subtle shadings,
Intricate turnings of pink---
Lace bonds that constrict
Gently, slowly about the heart...
Unnoticed until they've caused pain for some time.
By then they've cut too deeply,
Become too embedded to remove.

Don't get me wrong---
In some veiled, perverse way,
I enjoy it---
I enjoy learning nothing
From my mistakes---

Burning Balance

Sing standing atop this rolling blue ball
little that we ever hear stays the same.
Spirits of life sound in the wind for all
there is no one else to ignite this flame.

Earth connects with each single living thing
deep within dwells the soylent shaft to strive.
So this truth can universally ring,
sing its song out loudly and feel alive.

Sense our world's center core, pent-up, stone heat;
when will it irrupt, we cannot be sure -
piercing through the crust down below our feet.
By our letting go, we shall all endure.

Learn the turnings of spirit globally
be the balance to be forever free.



108 words 14 lines  Sonnet 2/7/23
Tribute to "Spirit of Life", Unitarian hymn.
References made to Buddhist principles of
"oneness", "letting go" and "impermanence"
in the text. Mention of the phrase "Soylent 
Shaft" refers to the 1973 movie Soylent Green.
Illustration in colored pencil by G. Gaul

Insomnia

NIGHTIME BEFALLS,TIME TO GO TO SLEEP
IN THE MIDST OF TROUBLE,SLEEP IS SCARCE
THERE ARE TOO MANY TOSSES AND TURNINGS
WORRY LOOMS
EYES ARE WIDE OPEN AND YOU ARE WIDE AWAKE AS IF HAVE HAD A CAFFEINATED BEVERAGE
BRAINS ROAMS

ITS AS IF THE CLOCK HAS STOPPED TICKING
THE WORLD HAS COME TO A COMPLETE HALT
YOU CANNOT WAIT FOR THE ROOSTERS WAKE UP CALL
IT SEEMS LIKE IT WILL TAKE FOREVER BEFORE THE MORNING COMES

The Dreaming of Worlds

the dreaming of worlds in sympathy
carefully waltzing across the blackness
believing they rule the empty desolation
mapping the turnings and retrogrades
the warnings of lightning in crimson skies
and the accompanying sense of disaster
in the distance forms a fearful silhouette
the evil that at all costs must be avoided
but your legs feel weighted as with stones
and the darkness closes in from all around
changing to the shimmering of the stars
a loud voice asks for another two cents
for the ferris wheel in the sky if you dare
then from a light another voice was saying
time now to get up it's a beautiful morning

Train Truth

Try to smile
Through each mile
This life is a free tour on a train…
Takes you here
Takes you there
Tempting to travel again, again…

Turnings you find
Tunnels profound
Train treads on topsy-turvy terrain…
Travel ahead
Turn not behind
Trace, in every cloud, a silver line…

Try to sing
Try to dance
Try to play trifles like simple flute…
Try to laugh
Try to love
This, indeed, is life's perfect pursuit…

Life's Lessons

You have seen it all, the good, the bad
Handled crisis soundly for which you are glad
At an age where you can no longer do physical labour 
Why not leave behind a legacy of life in all its flavour

Words of wisdom gathered from experience
Few lines of caution to aid those with inexperience
Some words on values which are depleting day by day 
Some thoughts to ponder on life and its way

Some memories of mistakes and your learnings 
Some memorable memories of sudden turnings
Crises and how you handled it all
Advice on how to avert a fall

One day death suddenly might come
You may not be there to mentor them 
Why not leave behind a legacy for them
Many long for someone to guide them 

Future generations will gain a lot
Thank you for lessons well taught

13th March 2021
Inspired by
Line Gauthier contest poetry as a legacy

To Die For

Branches frosted in ice

Wonderland magic waiting in awe to thaw

Pink blossoms ready to surpass hibernation

	Spring in their timeless steps

				Candle wax waned

The Little Drummer boy back in his box

Wrapped in kind tinsel for resurrection

	Illumination darkened

				Nutcrackers remain

Shells of Christmas foreshadow and abandoned

Reality calls for beating another lonely retreat

	Granny back at the nursing home

				Outsourced happiness

Spoon fed dribbles ooze onto parched kerchiefs

The turnings of life confined to a wheel chair

	Business fast as usual
	
				Reindeers on holiday

Santa's temporary visa faded and expired

An immigrant nurse from foreign shores

	Gives love and caresses

				Crossroads once more

New Year is dawning to the spin of the earth

The token Jesus nailed and forgotten leaves

	A silhouette on the wall

				Another chance wasted

Forgotten resolve scripted in blood and in vain

Soldiers will march again for irreverent fortune

	Guns frosted in ice


27th December 2019

Consequences

Struck void the will of intellect,
against such pondering, 
the injured spirit to protect. 
No tangled reminisce provides, 
Surcease to turnings 
of such tortured mind. 
Nor time-fogged recall 
that guide requires - 
So indelibly scored, Regret's cold ire.

And soul bereft of all hope of gain,
Forsakes Intention's road,
for one paved in self - disdain. 
And all the way,
the mocking laugher never fades.
'Sleep well now, in this bed you've made.'

Dawn of Light

THROUGH COOLING ROWS OF MIRRORS
The frozen cheeks of children spoon the air
With mandrake callings
Grim intracted products breaking
Membranes off the waves.

ANOTHER DAY IS COMING
Through the breeze electric blueness
Once and forever
Daughter of the stone tomb
Bearer of man the womb choosing
Misty swirl – blossom of morning light
Lunge in the cave of day.

MIST OF SPIDER-BLEACHING SHADOWS
Parade of the flower-bed veils
Drop of ancient autumn
Mistress of the pilot’s eye
Spinning messages through trees.

GRASP IT. GRASP IT
Be seen above the bee’s quick turnings
Make gold the apple’s greenness
Silent churchyards in the blue and graying town
Through peoples’ eyes the seven dreams come leaping
A shadow of a letter from a friend’s dismembered hands
Unbroken by the voicing of his echoes.

Speak

I look in the mirror and 
I see a girl that's scared to speak 
I see fear and disappointment in every word she speaks 
I see the untold tears 
That nobody wants to speak 
Wrong turnings dead ends 
She weeps 
When alone she screams 
Pushing all and everybody that comes close out of reach
Frustration and anger her key
Hopeless drifting with no ambition they scream .
But I see the girl that wants to be happy and free 
Be loved by all 
Fill life with all and everything that she could be 
Make them proud of the women 
She is to be 
Fill life with all and everything that she could be 
Be beautiful be bold proud of who she sees 
A masterpiece 
Beautifully made she doesn't know that she's unique 
Future layed out and planned from god she doesn't see 
Heavy heart 
With a perfect frame 
Painted smile on her face 
To cover up the scars that still  remain 
In the mirror I see 
A girl that wants to speak 
                                                                                                        -Adaam Jagne

Astronomically Amplified

Tubular turnings. Turnips training. In a circular formation only. Obligations are a given construction to a fistulae pattern. Oh wow the knowledge and secrecy of a bowl of broth. Singing sweetly however the remnants of a sharks dinner are displayed only on a bright canvass. Fishing in a bathroom is best achieved in broad daylight. Great. Orpheus's wisdom. Treading tailed trailers talking. And a fortified iron cobra clock strikes again.  Good. Grab an iron then and wave it around. Hahahaha and a cutlet of smiling smoke. Chop chop chop. Hahahaha and a pink oink oink oink *** astronomically z

To the Past Poets

Often when I sit to write
My mind will wander off
And I think of all the poets
The Soup has gain, then lost

I hope for health and happiness 
For each and everyone
And that they keep on writing 
For profit or for fun

I know life keeps one busy
With it's twisting and it's turnings
But I would like for them to know
We'll keep a candle burning

Although I did't know them well
Their poems spoke to me
And touched a spot within my heart
In camaraderie

All In Good Time

Awakened by a siren
 Aching like a wound 
 We're driven out as we utter 
 The turnings of the womb

 Swelling as we're tutored 
 By the wendings of desire 
 Swept away by water 
 Travestied by fire 

 The vital force of irony
 Stabs us like a brier 
 Churning up a whirlwind 
 As we tumble in the mire 

 Vanquished by an idol
 Beguiled by a look 
 Overwhelmed by a smile
 Or twisting on a hook 

 We're spun and cut by the fates
 In pursuit or in retreat 
 Gurgling like infant kings 
 Or bawling in defeat

 Written by © Raven Drake

Distant Thoughts

Time has flown by as the flapping of the wings
But I will wander singing quietly in the rains, 
Hope to lay in the boughs of my creator 
For I will be free from this earthly chains. 


I have seen the turnings of the seasons 
Mortal body questing longevity in reasons, 
Hope to lay in the boughs of my creator 
Leaving behind those unresolved questions.


When I'll be gone, do not hang window curtains 
For I'll be peeping you from the moon's surface ,
You'll see me laying in the boughs of my creator 
In the eternity of love, in the serenity of peace. 



(for Isiah Zerbst's contest )

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