Wilding Poems | Examples

Love's First Kiss

Engulfed in you and I 
As you and I faithfully 
Wilding the test of time
For since the creation of time, 
They said that her love was blind
I'm just saying, 
I'm part of her first creations
But that doesn't mean that she's there,
Where patience stares looking down on you and I 
Hoping the gracious Creator looks over me

Royalty

Pristine the canvas displayed before all
Begging color and stroke, a master's mind
Brush kisses pallete, intentions will fall
Pulse soars, paint flies, never leaves her behind

Lifetimes he progressed, alone and some not
Longing and barking for a soul his kin
Hunting and seeking, heartsick, for his lot
Familiar she is, something sharpend within

Teeth gnashing and gnarl grasping at his skin
A wild reunion, fangs gift, blood running
Embracing carnage and in love again
Hunter's moon, super, alive and howling

Never again part their fierce wilding ways
On mountains they rule in most just of days

Chasing a Leprechaun

Through thickened woods and thorny brush
I chased the elf in silenced hush
Around intoxicating pines
And mossy-covered hanging vines
Taking care to mark the way 
With petals dropped from rose bouquet
My distance safe from prying eyes
And forest creatures’ wilding cries

I stalked the fairy to his lair
With visions of the gold we’d share
I’d lie in wait and pounce at will
And marvel at my stealthy skill
Finally, his hideaway
Nestled deep in green decay
Nothing left to do but wait
And dream about my wealthy fate

The leprechaun began his work
Upon his face, the strangest smirk
But still he toiled with tools and nails
Evoking lovely olden tales
He cut and stitched a dozen shoes
The crafty work, a clever ruse
For soon his suit of green did fade
Together with his sly charade

The tap, tap, tap, a lullaby 
Beneath the starry moonlit sky
My dreams of fortune quickly gone
Replaced by sunny rays of dawn
The cagey man was smart and swift
And left me with a parting gift
A pair of shoes so shrewdly soled
With dazzling heels of gleaming gold

moonspeak

your skin …

cornflow’r in the moonlite
through louvers that
slice you to tender shards
of opalescence
arranged like piano keys on
Egyptian percale
the sea of sheets we so
often drown in …
“oh baby” -
the way you say those words -
soft candle puffs
as if turning flame to wisps
coyly chasing my name from
where I thought it safe
to its utter peril upon your lips
and its baptism by the
kiss that slays …
my rapture is no longer my own
it exists only in chaos
at the source of the divine -
the wellspring
that indescribable place of
wilding wonder …
and yet …
at this moment of contentment and
joy and security -
where we are timeless and true
where every hour is midnight …
a tear leaps from my chin to its doom
unnoticed by you with
my back strategically to the moon …
because I know with certainty
(though I don’t know HOW)
that someday I’ll be alone -
someday I’ll be drenched by the same moon
remembering this very moment
remembering that I knew
that solitude would be my fate … 
that I would one day ache
for the gentle, whisp’ry way
you said …

“oh baby”.







Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, January 24, 2024

Aided By The Wind Conclusion

              The wind, a conductor of memories past,
whispers of boostalgia, in each gust it casts, 
every play by play, blow by blow, 
moves us in the direction 
of refinement, victory, goal.
It carries laughter, like a playful lambada,
stirring the plot, where we can embark the 
crossroads of shallow depths of flood, rescue, boat, armada, with it's tugfloat-
, antics, dote.

Upon the breeze, momentum, ab solution,
scensctes emotions, 
mingles with Petrichords of spring tugging ferry 
of family amalgamation, observatory.

The wind, a conductor of memories past,
whispers of nostalgia, in each gust it casts, 
every play by play, blow by blow. 
Vesper-wilding crystal clear antecdotes.
Where the wind can carry pain, 
wound salts in exclamate whirl of spin.
It also carries a soft hum and a touch 
from person to beast to person, 
playing in the yard, naked, raw, 
carefree, 
as we begin again.

Saint Elvan's Journey From Ulster To Kildare

I've wandered long through the wilding storm 
And many all-night the cold, 
To meet the turn of the sudden road 
And ever the Word behold.

The Crepuscule

I stow in solitude
where wilding grow
gazing at the stars across
the calm space filled 
of nostalgic moonlight 
awe-inspiring days
at which point you were
the foremost of me
& in which spot I was the best
of you
whilst sloppy husk
catch my tears
of visions
to float ethereally
beyond
gloaming skies
within your
Warm embrace

Written: August 28, 2022

Our Essence of Love

Oh, how the clouds flow in the wind,
And cupid stretches his bow out towards us.
Every leafy maple flourishes as they grinned,
While the garnishing creeks all around discuss.

Billowing fog creeps around,
Nothing else in the world matters.
Eyes interlock and so profound;
All could be heard were pitter patters.

The bow-wilding infant allures;
We are forever in a loving awe,
With me knowing I am all yours,
It could almost be against the law.

How could any person resemble perfection?
Our love spreads within us like an infection.

White Heart

I'm with you-marching-searching for blooms amidst the weeds
you have my white heart-in your hands.
Until you start 
looting
burning 
shooting
"wilding" for white hearts to tear out.
The only slave master you have now is hate,
which tethers the many minds of kindness
whips the back
shackles the soul

Hate is a knee to the neck of peace...
The only slave master you have now is hate,
and it owns you.

Azalia Worship

Every action Azalia takes out-weights the gravity of god
Fostering the symmetry of worlds, how it must be
A vision of an impenetrable force
Cultish prayer to the true Omni
Covering heaven and hell in vast darkness
Wilding a composer that can’t be shrouded
Hear the chants that abstract the odium
We follow are true lord
Enough with these false gods
Azalia, neither born of the darkness and light
Just like us
Bringing forth a new breed of power
Ravish the weak, with your incomparable strength
Sprout your ways and bring us to the truth
Absorbing the deadly rays of glory
Slay these vultures of a dying dogma
Let your infliction strike
Retrieving pride of Nirvana

Wilding Fawn

I saw the raven night withdrawn
as scarlet of a peacock dawn 
arose atop the crested east
and as the bleeding scape increased
one feral star I wished upon.

I prayed for summer fire to yawn
across my salamander lawn--
lay low the winter's ice-fanged beast.

But even now gold hours are gone,
September's afternoons are drawn
away to Autumn's umber feast,
its shadows porcupine released
as further strays the wilding fawn.

10/9/17

Self Portraits - For Contest

self portraits 


color me in dandelion yellow
thumbing my nose at beauty’s pawns
intruder in the gardens of the mellow
mimicking the beauty of my dawns.

paint me in thick oils, richness deep
colors of wild howls, barks, and hoots
surrounded by the company I keep
anchored in the depth of wilding roots.

photograph me, center, tall and proud
rubbing petals with the hybrid mimes
silenced by the fear of being loud
paying homage to the price of beauty’s crimes.

draw me in the scrapbook of your mind
small fingers reaching out to feel
a gift to which the world grew slowly blind 
the life that makes the dandelion real.


8/6/2016

submitted to – Each one of us has His or Her won Flower of Attraction – Poetry Contest

sponsor – Rick Parise

On a Dark Path

Throwing wrong ideas around like rocks
Wilding murderous thoughts like swords
Imposing our ill will on our own clear conscience
A rogue soldier on mission for justice
The mind has lost patience
Impulsive actions beg for an audience

In 5000 years of an expanding society
With growing opulence and rising poverty
The brain has shrunk
The mind is drunk
Our motto remains constant 
In this age of instant

History has told us the pain of the past
And what we have learnt is vast
Concerns about who deserves to live
And the origins of life and the meaning of love
Questions to acceptance and tolerance
Mean nothing to the fool playing to an audience

Son of a Gun

I am fire cooked in the belly of a barrel
An inferno like a messenger of death from hell
Somersaulting like a ninja assassin wilding his sword unsheathed
With double edged precision and ill intent unleashed

In my clear trajectory I target any would be shot stopper
I spit fatality and finality, I am the showstopper
There lies power in the pull of a trigger
An on/off switch of life at the tip of a finger

I entre the air with a loud Bang!
I express death like a bulletin
Collide and split air molecules with gun powder
15 calibre to penetrate fragile body armour

I shoot off my mouth like a machine gun
Two syllables, death by numbers, one by one
I recoil on my words like a liar, then silence
Steal lives and leave behind bullet clips

I laugh at your gun laws
I am the Lord of all wars

24

if i had 24 hours to live 
id probaby chill with the smith and go west where i can rest my head from getting touched like the rest
id grab a judge and tell him its i his last 24 , knock open his door,
tell him i wasnt there for the raw but the truth. 

Nobody can touch cuz the kid got touched

nobody smiling cu z the nerves s wilding, this aitn nothing new

if i had 24 id just think i had 48 sp i can double take my life '

 if i whad 24 to live i d relive my life by every hour. 
Id refuge a bunch of thugs 
feed the poor
hand out bottle sof coke to the kids,
look at eery women ive loved and tell her this si what it is.
man can feel my pain so the money is the cover up in green like kemp with a dutch 

 if i had 24 id id do *****to make u think u relly living

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