Widens Poems | Examples

Morning Comes to Huatung Valley

Mist feathery drifts
last night’s breath loosening
above basalt slopes of Huatung

Pacific swallows trace morning brushwork
over Fuli’s rice paddies
new green scented with rain.

Xiuguluan River flows jade mountain-born 
among ancestral stones
white willows in Ruisui weep
dew-kissed
cycad fronds catching first sunlight

Leaf pearls gather on my thatched sandals
Walami earth holds stories in its coolness.

Bihe Pond rests hidden in Wanrong’s stillness
waters reflecting the tribe’s quiet prayers

Bamboo leaves in green and gold
crested mynas gather in quiet repose
wind moves with the chime of a temple bell.

Ancestral path wanders into the Central Range
oolong tea clouds drift
above Qilai’s blue ridges

A white egret lifts over Guangfu’s terraces
air clear as poured Longjing.

A bulbul calls
blue magpie glides
the slow unlayering of day

Huatung Calligrapher’s span warm to newborn light
time unspools—
bright
unmeasured.

Light widens

dawn follows Yu Shan’s shadowed valleys

the world in quiet promise
soft light
drifting into morning.

Flashbulb Moment

Flashbulb moment in the black
Everyone frozen in a truth attack
You learn who justifies means from ends
You learn your enemies and your friends.

You look for an anchor in a bible psalm
But there's chaos in your brain from blast of this bomb
A moment that divides the right from the wrong
A moment not imagined in ancient song.

(chorus)
Flashbulb night, a sudden flame,
You looked at the light: never be the same.

You had assumptions, you thought you knew
Now you realize you didn't have a clue
A whole class of behavior you can't explain
Its time to jump off that runaway train.

The masks are off, disillusion starts
You’re so lonely now, when the curtain parts.
A fracture line through your heart
The rift widens, you must restart.

For one man it was a murder of a friend
For some a hero exposed, or a vicious trend
They began to question all they were taught
Forced on a new path, because truth they sought.

Keep Moving

This is a season for peace but
not where the war rages,
not as our country men die,
not as the grill burns human
flesh and the sky rains ash.

My dear friends,
do not tire out as the bombs drop,
As the gangs plunder,
our babies starve,
and friends go missing.
As the water dries out,
as the chasm widens, 
when moon shows no light
and the early bird has no song,
keep moving onward.

Pancake

The circle widens slower and comes to a stop. 
Bubbles form on the surface - and then go pop.
If it looks like it's shiny and it's still wet, 
it probably isn't quite ready yet.  
I think watching it is really a trip -
watching and waiting for the right time to flip.

Songs from Grassy Blocks

Written: May 04, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Constance La France 

Quote: "Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love." By Rumi

             **************************
Spring geckos dance amid the early dew, 
Olive snuggles with dulcet dreams as mint.
A duckling settles softly in a shaded view,
Okenite feathers smoke in a dizzying hint. 

Emerald drips flow over the damp meadow,
While May rain pours down, akin to arrows.
Windswept snags utter a rose-scented breeze,
A smooth swoosh paint with oakmoss squeeze.

Purple iridescence widens in spinel phlox, 
Ancient songs reverberate in the grassy blocks.
With the light, a shooting star makes its way,
Dashing over a midnight black onyx display. 

In the embrace of mauve marigold air,
Dandelion tufts sparkle as opals laid bare.
Whispers in the sky, drifting glare.

Tailwinds

Life’s walls remain as high as the clouds
 Covered by shrouds of thunderclouds
   Looking up I awe in vast wonder
    Mental impasse envelopes by the hour
     Hour after hour
      I grow more dour
       I knit a suit of doubt
        I only see myself with rout
         Still on the battlefield
          Inside I aimlessly yield
           A crack appears 
            The wall has fears
             A fraction of a win
              I sneak a grin 
               I smack at the crack
                I laugh as I thwack
                 Time is my weapon
                  Grit is my gun
                   The hole widens
                     The bleakness weakens
                      The wall can time-worn
                       And I can become reborn
                        Time is my tailwind

D O D

The lights flicker on
In the room
The young girl sleeps in
Her smile widens as
She sees her mother
Come in with a book
In her hand
As she sits down
On the bed

The mother brushes
The girl’s hair off her
Face and begins 
Reading to her
Watching
As her daughter’s eyes
Softly close

She glances again
And gasps
Seeing a corpse
Replace
Her daughter’s 
Once living body

She tries to look
Away 
But her head seems
To be unable to move
Forcing the mother
To watch

She wakes up in a panicked 
State
Her heart racing
Sweat running down
Her forehead
Hand shaking
Uncontrollably

In her mind
She wishes she could stop
The hallucinations
And nightmares
Entering her mind
But she’s unable 
To accept
Her daughter’s dead

Midsummer Eve

Twilight whispers behind the blinds;
I barely see, but I believe,
In the ruby and orange rinds,
Moon blossoms of midsummer eve.

I barely see, but I believe
In the twinkling star diamonds,
Moon blossoms of midsummer eve.
Romantic ebon-sky widens.

In the twinkling star diamonds,
Circling like a halo above,
Romantic ebon sky widens;
Where there’s darkness, a lunar dove.

Circling like a halo above,
Juiciness of sluicing hues, wet.
Where there’s darkness, a lunar dove.
Pearly gates preserve the sunset.

Juiciness of sluicing hues, wet,
In the ruby and orange rinds.
Pearly gates preserve the sunset;
Twilight whispers behind the blinds.

Circus Act

Underneath the blazing sun
horror widens it’s gape
A merciless ploy to encapsulate gullible minds
It knows you are familiar 
and yet you abandon your truth on the tightrope above 
Trying to maintain your balance 
But it’s tongue threatens to swallow you whole
A relentless abomination with a thousand heads
screams for you to tumble through the needle's eye
So you make do with illusions
because if you were to fail, madness would take its toll
And though you jest, there still remains a man 
behind the clown 
One who proves his certainty with beasts full of air
and a smile that could easily be smeared

Seeds of Life

a seed is planted in the garden  
watching it push up slowly  
through the wet soil
green shoots rising
in the spring rain

she holds the baby
in her arms
softly cooing 

in the blazing heat of summer 
the stem widens, thickens, gets taller 
green leaves become fuller 
its yellow petaled head grows larger

she blows a kiss 
putting her on the bus
first day of school 

as cooler autumn winds blow    
its massive round head 
filled with black and brown seeds 
turns towards the waning sunlight 

she graduates from college 
with honors 
they take family pictures

across the barren landscape 
brisk cold air sweeps in  
as the sunflower bows its head  
covered in winter's white coat  

she marries, moves away,  
raises two children
tends her garden 
growing sunflowers

A Tuscan Sky

Olive trees all around us
the warming sun illuminates
a mysterious walk
two strolling strangers.
One brief introduction
yet no words follow
as your warm smooth hand
grazes over mine.
Chills become clenched teeth
your head turns suddenly
I freeze like a deer in headlights
a small grin widens on your face.
The sun finally goes behind the hills
a radiance in purples, pinks, and reds;
framing your face in a soft chiffon light
rise into the lovely twilight.
Shadows move through the old lane
scurrying all about the buildings
A bottle of wine and glasses wait
Time for a toast to the Tuscan Sky.

the tenth door

the orifice at fontanel
widens breath by breath
in as a blossoming
of an unexpectant rose

from a centreless fulcrum 
dew drops of soma appear
trickling through conduits 
within organic form

the power that propels life
manifests as magnetism 
cajoling and compelling
polarities to tango dance

shape shifting sacred symbols
immanent yet transcendent 
create a beauteous rhythm 
as sounds of enigmatic silence 

vibrant eternal presence
resplendent in its light
dips in and out of the stream
without getting its feathers wet

Poetic cauldron

Wanna go back to my poetic cauldron, the ink boils within me, pass me the spoon, minds and souls have went long without. Need I be punished for starving the nation, sprinkling my artistic expression, the aroma reverberates with poetic reverence, tasting glands oozes ravenously, sauces of creativity fills my hand, edible to the soul too, 

marinate the mind with creative expressions, like an artist painter, paint spots all over my poetic kitchen, in my artistic kitchen crockery and cutlery of spirit evokes words, fill the cauldron to brim, multitudes are to be served, a poetic meal, entice the smell sense, as appetites widens, one belly after the other,

I serve the voiceless, the trapped, the surrendered and  those who left this this earth not fed, for in my cauldron ingredients of life giving, competes. Lemme put flesh to these poetic bones and feed life back to this poetic body, it's in my poetic cauldron I wanna go back to
#Poetic_Ink

Roads

there's a slim space

between
the what  
  you want to do
and the what
  you have to do...
  
between
the where 
  you want to be
and the where   
  you have to be.

a space that widens 
   with time
into a chasm.
until
that dream
  that road not taken
  be gradually consumed
by the forest
  obscured   
  becoming indiscernible
from the trees.

Method Actor

A smile painted on, hair removed from my chin. 
Another day of pretence about to begin. 
False interest in the latest fashions and trends. 
Fabrication of engagement to allow ends to meet ends. 

Each contrived interaction wished quickly away. 
Although nobody realises, as I act through my day. 
Conversations conducted with unwitting stealth. 
Insofar as I struggle to distinguish 'me' from myself. 

An identity distorted a strain on my morals. 
Struggling to navigate life's insignificant quarrels. 
Dismissive remarks, I've had a day and a life full. 
As insults fire from your tongue like a bolt-action rifle. 

Diffused with humour and previously learned guidance. 
The gap between who I was and who I am significantly widens. 
The question 'who am I?' continues to stop and then start. 
It can only be answered with 'what stories am I a part?'. 
Like a chameleon meandering, transient through the day. 
Depending on the act, and the part that I play.

• Short Widens Poems
• Famous Widens Poems
• Best Widens Poems
• Read Widens Poems
• Long Widens Poems
• Widens Quotes