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Best Poems Written by M. L. Kiser

Below are the all-time best M. L. Kiser poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | M. L. Kiser Poem

My Far Side

You say, I’m too far, 
towards the far side?
It’s a hazard of my left-handedness,
that I see the logic in abstraction.
Worlds lay within worlds
and colors bleed personality;
Oh, it may be distasteful
in the world of mathematics
to give a square five sides;
not in my world, 
it’s a box with the lid open.
Into that box I pour
my imaginings,
things that only I can see
of which, some folks display 
their jealousy;
they accuse me of being backwards,
of not following the rules.
In my world, rules are
shades of grey, 
monotone
monotony,
my imagination
does not obey.
No one tells me that
a cow can’t be purple,
that clouds can’t speak 
or that you can’t draw the 
invisible realms.
Step into my guitar and dance,
it’s playing itself for you.
I’m an original, you see
and I travel in
imagination’s zone.

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Dreamscapes An Education In the Mind

Dream schemes play across the screen
And third eye examines them,
Ever so closely; tonight,
Another etheric flight;
Will show me new horizons
And the beings that dwell there;
The archetypes and images.

Scenes play out in colors,
Shadows weave their magic;
I am inundated.
Visiting spirits came,
Just to bid me adieu;
My guides know what I need.

Somewhere the light starts,
To glow; a pinpoint,
Growing as it moves
Toward each scene, shines;
Revealing wisdom.

A dream is an
Education;
Dream and wisdom
Will come to you.

Dreaming mind,
Subconscious,
Library.

Dream long
And deep;

Dream.

Details | M. L. Kiser Poem

Music To My Ears

Effervescent elation arises and dances to ancient echoes; the rhythm of the drums heartbeat.  
Champagne notes bubble into the night sky; night music of Gaia’s children is music to my sleeping ears.

Ethereal flutes singing to the crickets, 
usher me into the dreamtime and there I awaken; 
an ancient being, I heed the call.

I drum along; wings beating out the chorus; 
I dance in skies of cotton white fluff. 
Drums intensifying, crescendo as, 
Native Voices sing my name.  
I am king Thunderbird and my subjects saluting me…
music to my ears.


Written 2-14-19

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Burning Flame of Life

Arise and fall; the cycle of life; birth and death are human plight.

A life is lit and it burns short; when matches struck bring in discord.

Flames burn dim or bright; many deny, their own bright light.

Details | M. L. Kiser Poem

You Never Know Till You Get To Know

One dark night a saucer crashed;
the military quickly cleaned up the trash.
In the distance, what they didn’t see;
a thin, white face between the trees.

Once all was quiet, little Gili-ok crept,
from the woods where he had slept.
The rising sun, he felt was great, 
but without his transport, he’d met his fate.

A distant farmhouse, he drew near;
he’d find food there; the scent was clear.
To the doorway he did head; 
but he was overcome by sudden dread.

Standing just inside the door,
a human creature loudly warned…
“Come no closer, you little freak, 
or I’ll put a bullet, a’tween yer teeth”.

Gili-ok stopped dead in his tracks; 
he thought about just turning back,
But reading farmer Jones’s mind; 
he beamed his message, oh so fine.

“I come in peace, my human friend;
I only want my wounds to mend”.
Old farmer Jones, lowered his gun; 
He said, “I see that you are wounded, son.”

Into the house, Gili-ok walked and
they ate breakfast, as he talked.
Old farmer Jones, then smiled and said,
“It’s a wonder, you ain’t dead!”

Guli-ok was soon patched up and 
graciously, he fixed old Jones’s truck.
One finger touched the clunker’s hood;
the old sparks fired and that thing, ran good!

“Say, yer a fine repairman son 
and I could use a hand on this farm.
Would’ya stay a’spell; help me plant seed?  
I’ll give room, board and feed.”

Now Gili-ok knew he’d have to wait
for friends to rescue him from his fate.
Into the barn, he did go and 
soon the tractor…out it rolled.

“I’ll be.” Said Farmer Jones, surprised;
he really couldn’t believe his eyes.
Little Gili-ok thrashed a ton of wheat; 
he filled the silo, nice and neat.

The hogs and chickens were swiftly fed,
when Gili-ok simply turned his head.
Old Jones, he watched with shock and awe,
as hay bales levitated into the barn loft.

Week after week, Gili-ok did work,
fixing equipment and working the dirt.
The one year there, Gili-ok spent;
made farmer Jones, a rich old gent.

When Gili-ok’s pals finally arrived,
they gifted Jones’s truck with a new hyper-drive.
On his tractor, they added super-warp and
on his house, they zapped a porch.

As Gili-ok waved a sad goodbye, 
Farmer Jones began to cry.
Into his head a message was beamed,
“You must forget all that you’ve seen”.

Never again did old Jones need
to struggle planting all his seeds.
His new warp tractor would miraculously plow
and seed his crops; how he was, “wow’d”!

A lesson Jones did learn from this;
to befriend aliens, can be bliss.
He was so happy that he didn’t shoot;
he gave Gili-ok a brand new pair of boots.

As Jones sat up watching the late, late show;
his HDTV began to glow.
It bleeped twice; the pixels morphed 
and on the screen was Gili-ok, of course!

Gili-ok winked one oval eye and
Jones waved back, with a sigh; 
happy that he’d gotten to know, 
that skinny little, alien soul.

Details | M. L. Kiser Poem

Sonnet of Space and Time

I savor my precious, quantum bliss;
the vibration of the strings, echo Heaven’s kiss.  
In parallel worlds, are parallel lives; 
With them, I can identify.

I’ve passed through, many walls of stone; 
through countless lives, I have roamed.  
I’ve tasted every experience, 
I found, that some, I still lament.

A molecular epiphany, I have received.  
My life’s frustration, is appeased.
Pure energy, is what we are 
and we can visit, every star.

Quantum souls are limitless; 
join me and pursue your bliss.

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The Old Victorian

My great, great Aunt had a lovely old home,
with many a wonderful story,
hidden within its walls.

A Victorian, architectural designers dream;
vaulted ceilings, full of ghosts;
where spirit voices sang of its splendor.

What I remember most, were the sparkly door knobs;
prisms reflecting the sunlight; 
beautiful rainbow colors, 
adorning her sitting room walls.

The animated colors of her crystalline chandelier
wove dancing shadows into the fabric.
As a small child, I reveled in that light-play;
how I loved her magical home.

Details | M. L. Kiser Poem

Colorscape

The intricate web
Of life has been spun;
It’s twists and turns hold,
Keys to our very
Existence on Earth.

How we are formed,
Born, survive and 
Die and purpose,
In life’s grand scheme.

Together,
We create;
Colorscape.

Blending
Abstract

Art.


CONTEST NO 505,any form,any theme,upto a max of 20 lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand

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Candle Flame Dance

The flame dances on a breeze;
Candlelight dances on the walls.
Amazing shadows will be seen;
Wherever those flames may fall.

Such magical creatures are candle flames;
Mesmerizing beings.
Up there on my Mantle,
The dancers play out scenes.

They dance to their own stories;
Amazing mysteries.
No choreographers paint such glories;
The flames, quite creative, be.

Candle flame or burning fire;
They never fail to inspire.

Details | M. L. Kiser Poem

Lightening Dots Dance

Luminescent lights
bouncing through the nighttime air;
fireflies, in my yard.