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Gregory Richard Barden Poem
I made for you, a castle
but I built it in the sand
I steadfastly tried
to constrain the tide
but the bastions didn't stand
I planned for you, an Eden
with needs to see us through
but the ripened fruits
had corrupted roots
and I fed them all to you
tell the night to hold me
I no longer have your arms
I'll brood and swoon
cradled by the moon
still pining for your charms
tell the night to hold me
June no longer follows May
'til the moonbeams, blue
drift me back to you
I'll forget about you ... every day.
I dreamed for you, a family
with two parts that acted one
yet my truth's demise
only bred goodbyes
lucid of the tales I'd spun
I wished for you a future
ripe with jubilance and mirth
still left recanted
and took for granted
the measure of its worth
tell the night to hold me
I no longer swim your eyes
instead I stare
into vacant air
and count the countless why's
tell the night to hold me
'til Apollo's old and gray
for until the stars
are not mine, but OURS
I'll forget about you ... every day.
I desired for you a partner
who would stand beside you, true
though that came to be
that man wasn't ME
and it broke my heart in two
I promised you'd be happy
and in ways, that's come to be
wed a man who's good -
loves you as he should
I just wish it had been me
tell the night to hold me
it no longer heeds my will
as I feared the most
I've become a ghost
and I haven't tears to spill
tell the night to hold me
for I've no more left to say
please remand what's just
as I turn to dust
and forget about you ...
every day ...
'til I'm swept with wind, away
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Your Best Poem Ever" Premiere Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "N/A The Day Away" Poetry Contest, Lu Loo, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Your Choice (2), Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Poem of the Day" Poetry Contest, Richard Lamoureux, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Last Letter To My Beloved" Poetry Contest, Silent One, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Piece De Resistance" Poetry Contest, The Name Forsakes Me, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Lost Love 2017 Poetry Contest", John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Screwed XX" Poetry Contest, Rob Carmack, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Your Best Poem" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
~ Poem Of The Day ~ on Poetry Soup, featured and awarded on July 7, 2017 - thank you kindly, Admins!
~ Number 15 Top Poem ~ on Poetry Soup's Top 100 All-Time Best Poems List
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2017
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Gregory Richard Barden Poem
have you not heard me?
borne upon the air at dusk, dancing ... I have whispered you in a million voices
still, you descry not my utterance? Listen, yet, for all is precious ...
in the tremble of the plum blossoms - is the tender truth not there?
in the aching sigh of spring-tide, longing for the touch of LIFE
does my intent not appear ... clearly?
in the hollow goodbye of the passing, placed into cold soil
or scattered, spinning, on the breeze ... in the belly laugh of a child,
finding untarnished joy for the first time ... in the bloom of creation
come to realization on the tip of a slender branch .. hearken yet, close! There!
feel it ... HEAR it! Within the keen and cold desperation of winter wind ...
inside the scratchings of fear, black as coal ...
deep, deep within the horror of oblivion, and the knowledge
that the ONLY thing that endears life to itself, is the LOSS of it ...
here - here in the breath of silence ... brushed aside, oh so gently,
like the strands of hair from a baby's forehead in the midst of fever ...
like a lover painted in moonbeams - lost in moments,
drowning in the hope that intimacy means something more ...
like the glint in the eye of a pet, whose owner's caress is everything ...
like the rusty tears of a madman, doomed,
shed for the sake of life sacrificed in reclamation ...
like the warm pulse of lifeblood, coursing ...
like the wash of phosphorescence on a beach,
where countless souls were given - sacrificed needlessly
for the aims of self-important fools, half a world away ...
like the frost on a window, left by the breath of a dying promise ...
like the shudder of skin, touched by attentive fingertips in passion ...
like the cold kiss of a friend, lost, set free by the failing of a respirator
a final farewell to an existence of pain ...
like the face of a dear one, cradled in your palms in the wish for forgiveness ...
I have spoken to you in earnest - across the addled ages,
you have felt my breath warm on your cheek, yet you walk on, careless
you buzz about your life in apathy and indifference,
searching for integral meaning, when that meaning was yours all the time ...
the preciousness of this existence, is ONLY of such value for two reasons:
it is BRIEF ... and you are mortal ...
life is the only true gift you are EVER given
and death the unshakable assumption of its worth
death is ultimate, inescapable ...
but in all its dark disguises, it is the one TRUE element that we require
the one true measure of importance,
and the salvation of all that is good and estimable,
for LIFE is worthless without it ...
its precious spark, doused with but a breath of limitless value.
I have whispered that to you in a million voices ...
have you not heard me?
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Your Choice (3), Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the the "Favorite Free Verse" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "How Precious Life Is" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2017
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Gregory Richard Barden Poem
a poet, you say? pardon no, not am I
there's only ONE poet - He writes on the
sky
of sunsets and stars, of space without end
with a dazzling bright ink and ethereal pen
of rainbows and sun dogs, anvils and rains
mists from the moors, breeze-tickled plains
of haze-shrouded hills and cloud-crusted
peaks
of sunrise horizons with blush on their
cheeks
of green flash, auroras, of comets and
moons
the fair constellations that rollick and swoon
of bright, stabbing bolts that pierce the
dark skies
and spiraling storms with the sun in their
eyes
you see …
all that He authors is authentic and true
light years beyond what MY words can
construe
but every-so-often, He blesses this fool
and imparts me the mercy to make me His
tool
yes, I'd love to take credit, but I must keep
in sight
I’m a pen out of many, with which He may
write
so I may seem a bard with these verses I've
spun
but regarding TRUE poets, there's really …
just ...
ONE.
~ 8th Place ~ in the "Poetry Marathon Mile 21" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Your Best Poem In The Last Year" Poetry Contest, Silent One, Sponsor.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "What Inspires You To Write Poetry" Poetry Contest, Julie Rodeheaver, Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Any Poem That Got NA'd June - July 2017 Poetry Contest", Janice Canerdy, Sponsor.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "Creative Collective Anthology Series" Poetry Contest, Geraldine Taylor, Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Best Rhyming Poem 3 Poetry Contest", John Hamilton, Sponsor.
* Recently featured in "The Creative Collective Anthology Series 2", published by Geraldine Taylor, available for purchase. *
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2017
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Gregory Richard Barden Poem
Colors daubed for seasons' scenes
I sift through life for what it means
In spite of chaos, shades and flings
It comes down to the simple things
The mountain tops, the dark abyss'
Have ground my egos down to this
Of all the chance and spheres I'm of
Life's worth and essence is ... but LOVE
Indeed, I've lived big moments, too
The raptures and sweet rendezvous
Moving mountains - burning skies
Bright lilting lashes, soft lullabies
Shedding poisons like second skin
Too few dreams to wear them in
I dared the devil, danced with death
Swore for mercy's whisp'ring breath
So just when ends seemed all to be
This extra chance was proffered me
Don't take for granted or yet waste
That vigor gained from rigors faced
Don't tend concerns to end or start
It's what's between that fills a heart
True meaning - love's enduring kiss
A life's no less or more ... than THIS.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Strand Select, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 7th Place ~ in the "Favourite Poem From May, 2019" Poetry Contest, Julia Ward, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "The Meaning of Life" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2019
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Gregory Richard Barden Poem
~ for my fellow poets ~
as slaves to the pen
or our keyboard, more apt
this molding of words
in a word, holds us rapt
fine fancies or fears
take us places unknown
our muse and our craft
better focused alone
the voice of our id -
the bounce of our rhyme
thus, charming or edgy
depending the time
midst romantic puddles
and whimsical trees
we splash our ideas
casting love to the breeze
a danger or hope or
a scorched trist-or-two
occur mind-to-matter
with the lines we imbue
the light AND the dark,
they both hold allure
our child's heart within -
just a tad bit impure
for tho we adore all the
things blithe and bright
we also know beauty
blooms deep in the night
if somber or joyous
thru passage or pain
it’s creatively ordered
thru rhyme and refrain
it's not that we're allied
- that we always agree
it's how we can sculpt
all the wonders we see
so although we may be
as different as spices
we’re thrall to our verses
whatever that price is
for it's a rare language
that few can command
but we speak it together
with a pen in our hand
so you may be a person
whom I've never met
but the gift of your writing
I'll never ...
forget.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "What Do We Have In Common" Poetry Contest, Kim Rodrigues, Sponsor.
~ Poem of the Day ~ featured on Poetry Soup.com on May 11, 2018 - many thanks to those in charge for the honor.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2018
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Gregory Richard Barden Poem
when I was just a wee one
my mom taught me to dance
to start, I balanced on her toes
but then steps more advanced
she showed me how to Fox Trot
(I could cut a decent rug)
also, waltzing and the Samba
but we'd mostly ... jitterbug
oh, that was my mom's favorite
that she always danced with Dad
I'd seen them do it here-or-there
(to perfection, I might add)
they had some mesmerizing moves
and a chemistry quite rare
a flow and rhythm, wondrous -
like they truly danced on air!
my dad worked many hours then
so to catch them was a treat
swinging tight to big band Jazz
with their twirling arms and feet
to watch them, smooth as butter
made my efforts seem quite weak
so when I could, I'd bother mom
for some shine to my technique
I wasn't half as good as Dad
still, 'twas special for us both
so every chance, we'd jitterbug
throughout my years of growth
when on my own, I'd often go
and stay with them a while
making time to dance with Mom
cuz it always made her smile
oh, some might find it trivial
but it bloomed in her with joy
as it danced us back to mem'ries
when she'd taught me as a boy
when MY wee ones came along
I taught THEM how to dance
so they can jitterbug now, too
and shake and twirl and prance!
well, Mom's now in her nineties
and her bones aren't very strong
but the other night we danced again
(tho' she didn't last for long)
we gently placed the self-same steps
even turned a couple spins
but it wasn't long before we quit
for the strength had left her limbs
some teary sparkles lit her eyes
and a smile adorned her face
for tho' a bounce had left her step
she'd danced her best with grace
we mightn't get the chance again
world spinning fast, it is
and Dad awaits hereafter, now
that last sweet dance is his
but someday when I'm slowing
and my seas of life grow calm
I'll look ahead with joy, once more ...
for the chance ... to dance ...
with Mom. <3
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Mother" Poetry Contest, Constance La France, Judge & Sponsor.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2019
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Gregory Richard Barden Poem
I be a common salty once
no captain's bars, did bear
yet blessed was I to venture
where few a skipper dared
from crow's nest high aloft I saw
those bright coast beacons wink
thru biting spray's December gale
what shoals and reefs would sink
for countless days I rocked atop
that oaken spar’s good length
as wake and skies conveyed my eyes
Lord Neptune's sullen strength
busy dogs, the mates and jacks
bent hard while tasked below
as toward the sky, a glass to eye
my post waved to-and-fro
first was I to e'er spot land
my voice, the first to yell
first to sight the skull and bone
and raise loud warning bell
"Thar she blows!" was oft' my cry
if spied foamed breach, had I
and "Friend or foe?!?" the question barked
when strange sails split the sky
but moments to becalm my soul
as swells tick-tocked the time
were star-filled nights, a bullion moon
and the phosphorescent brine
the darkest times were battlements
when the ship groaned in its might
but never dark, those eventides -
sea and vault - awash with light!
quite rare it was to find this tar
midst the deck or down below
and rarer still would I abdicate
my realm there, high the crow
well, I'm adrift on shore now
with old brittle bones and gray
yet in my lubber's mind I still
climb masts to watch and sway
I bounce wee kin on knobby knees
and spin those swabbie tales -
of Elmo's Fire and scorching skies
wild battles, storms, and whales
and when the angels task me
to one new and heav'nly crow
I'll bend gaze to a looking glass
and give a hearty "Tally-ho!"
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Verse A Favoured Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 5th Place ~ in the "2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 5" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Favorite Rhyming Poem Ever" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 8th Place ~ in the "Create A Character" Poetry Contest, Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Best Rhyming Poem This Year" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2017
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Gregory Richard Barden Poem
Through the years they worked their spells
From drawers and cupboards, taking things
That through them, thus, were given wings
And changed to sweetness meant for kings
With warm and wafting scrumptious smells
My Nana's hands ...
Countless times we'd strolled to town
To shop for what she'd need that eve
(First taking stock before we'd leave)
A shopping list tucked up her sleeve
My wee lad's fingers, safe and sound
In Nana's hands ...
The way back home was twice as long
Our arms filled plump with paper sacks
The makings and some special snacks
Oh, how the groceries bent our backs
Yet even then, I held on tight ...
To Nana's hands ...
Still it was always worth the chores
To watch her mix and bake and cook
While dancing to-and-from her nook
And glancing, sometimes, in a book
Oh, how I marveled and adored ...
My Nana's hands ...
But sometimes they were hard to hold
Curled with arthritis, wracked with pain
She oft' times had to stretch and strain
Though NEVER did she ONCE complain
Through rheumatism's stranglehold ...
On Nana's hands ...
See ...
Those bent old hands in disrepair
Worked twice as hard so we could eat
Thus each night's meal and every treat
Was that much more divine and sweet
All from the love and tender care ...
Of Nana's hands ...
And still, my fingers long to share ...
My Nana's
Gentle ...
Hands.
- by Gregory R Barden
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Cornucopia Cooking" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2019
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Gregory Richard Barden Poem
oh precious, dulcet diva, ocean-tide
you, of sand and foam and spindrift -
all your moods and meanderings
speak deep my spirit, wistful and wan
musings captured, gist enraptured …
I listen, close ...
on those warm and windy days, your
voice cuts clear, carries with it the joy
of sun sprites alighting on wave tops
hopping crest-to-crest like so many
gold pieces tumbling from pockets, laden …
I listen, rapt ...
becalmed days, the lull of low tide ...
gentle swells reach their arms ashore -
the cold brine washing sand and shell
like breezes sweeping the grasslands
rolling, as imagination rolls in the mind …
I listen, soft ...
whispering in my ear of the secret
dark places in my heart, exquisite
shadowy realms where passion and
reverie hide, pulsing with urge, aphotic
warm, enigmatic feelings flow and ebb …
I listen, true ...
an ocean storm's raging beauty, thus -
somber clouds, splashed Payne's Gray
swirl cruelly as Neptune flits his tresses
sea sirens lament with angry screams as
their backs are broken on reef and rock …
I listen, soft ...
gentle swells lapping brief, the sand
moon rising to the lullaby of a bell buoy
its tender peals coaxing the moonlight to
shore, Luna's beams tiptoeing gently atop
to join the phosphorescent waterline
(not to wake the slumbering breezes) …
I listen, sad ...
the gulls and terns laugh at the folly -
a man strains his ageing ears to the song
of the tides that he loves so completely -
the most divine and elegant aria known
and a voice so immortal and pure, that
it will croon on, long after there is naught ...
left to listen.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Your Choice (9), Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 7" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "New Poems Only" Poetry Contest, Emile Pinet, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Voices" Poetry Contest, Silent One, Judge & Sponsor.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2018
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Gregory Richard Barden Poem
** I apologize, but if you're viewing this on a phone, it probably wont look right, as the browser page on a phone is not wide enough to indent the right edge properly. It was designed on a laptop and should appear correctly if viewed on your pc. Thanks!. **
__________________________________________________________
Sensitively
I hold YOU
[ in my arms so very ]
tenderly, as
[ if an extension from ]
my very own
[ being the supple and ]
lithe form of
your body,
my muse.
I am as a
kid again-
alive with
the glows
of being in
the midst
of your so
sweet and
m elodious
c om pa ny
as free and
com pletely
joyous as I
h a ve ever
been in my
whole entire
existence 'til
now - totally
drenched in
plenitude. So
whenever I'm
joined in your
aspect, all the
soft curves of
your fine torso
r e sonate with
m y thoughtful
intents and wild
imaginings. You
are naught with
-out my deft caress,
and I, empty and incomplete without
you, yet together we create a harmony, pure, the
articulation of sublime revelation ... an utterance of divine,
inspired creativity, a dance of improvisation and revel
-ry, melodic wonderment, unified and concise. We
endeavor to find our em -pyreal song, to thus be-
come one, stealing silence, lulls. I gently caress your
neck with resolve, manipu- late you with my dutiful and
competent hands, each fin- ger with its own very resolute
course, attending your whispers with appreciation, and longing to
hear the moans and sighs of your sweet voice and affect... the coy result of
our purposeful, energetic joinings, are your soulful, rare and resonating
arias - the final and fitting example of all we realize in each other.. all
we create in our requisite energies. I remember back to the very
first time that we met, you with your brightly colored trap-
pings and shiny baubles, the strength of your supple
shape rippling with lines of poetic perfection, you took
my very breath away! Oh, I had seen others of your ilk
been with others who spoke with similar lilt, but none that
pulled the breath instantly from my lungs, none who made me qui
-ver with anticipation, to touch you, run my hands over your ample con
-tours, to hear you whisper a sultry voice to the tympans of my ears - such
ecstasy I imagined ... and ecstasy it WAS! I had watched you from afar for so
long ... dreaming, never really expecting you'd ever be mine, but that day I fin-
ally knew - knew I'd hold you, touch you, love you, make YOU tremble, the way
you had me! I would finally get to inhale the sweet, earthy fragrance of your so-
smooth, unblemished flesh, finally know the completeness and exquisite joys of
cradling you in my arms! And oh the beautiful things we have realized and done
together ... what incredible music we have made! Our spirits always united as
one, moving, sighing, creating every sublimated harmonic expression that we
can imagine, and always together, always joined by a magic thus unequaled,
always bound by the song of life, and the voice of the heavens! You shall
be mine forever, my Sweet Lady, and I mean to hold you and love you
until both of us can sing no more! Until the very skies no longer can
vibrate with the musings of nature - until the weep of the even's
clouds dries up and turns to dust ... until the roaring beat
of thunder no longer shakes the ground ... until the
gods themselves wipe the constellations from
the sky - this I pledge to you, my love
and my agency of art, my
guitar.
August 24, 2018
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2018
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