The bird’s house is capped with a snow drop.
The bird’s bath is a mushroom like form.
The branches all groan, snap, crackle, pop,
with the weight of the night’s snow so borne.
The cat’s on the rug near kitchen vent.
The furnace is pumping out more heat.
The tea kettle’s whistling with intent.
The old gal settles down with a sweet.
The car’s all shrouded, a sheet of white.
The trellis is a grand work of art.
Outdoors the benches all gleam with ice.
The new moon’s a rare, randy, upstart.
Darkness descends will a muffled whisper.
She sips tea and remembers who’s kissed her.
Transparent smiles and fragile paper eyes
adorn a tender beauty, as a tear
of dew upon a rose in cool sunrise.
A sweet yet clear disguise of yearnings near,
secreted 'neath so tenuous a veil
that slight of breeze would surely discompose
and tear and crinkle. Milky shades of pale,
diaphanous, untrue (as truth’s cast shows),
serve only as a means of self deny,
a flimsy shield against a whispered voice
that sighs a threat to air life as a lie
and deliquesce remaining threads of choice...
except the choice to live, as such a breeze
undresses faintly covered dreams with ease.
Let not my heart become in my old age
"An empty room, cobwebbed, and comfortless"
But an open sunny porch, a welcome sage
A loving heart to those in distress
Let not my pain sabotage my soft heart
Let me remain a gentle, kind spirit
Writing a course of good 'pon my sea chart
Let love from heart's depths to God submit
Enjoining to You oh Holy Spirit
Flow through me like a circuit open ended
This vessel delights in your benefits
Let the love seed grow with fastest speed
Let my heart not be controlled by body's pain
Fill my heart with Thy love 'til it can't contain
"An empty room, cobwebbed, and comfortless"
Direct quote from Edna St. Vincent Millay
It was in more than one of her works..
Each midnight glow is like this fleeting stone
And I, although I cherish, cannot steal
Or thrust on shore to hold until it’s grown
Below the tides of eve that plunge shall reel.
I stand as each crest scoops into the deep
And vanishes like jeweled drops of breath
To lie with mother pearls I couldn’t keep
For tiny are hand stems to grip their depth.
So now and then I wish that I may dip
Into the twirling wavelets with my arms
And haul pink mollusks which slide from my grip;
For in their husks, the pearl of Orient charms.
If midnight enthralls me into her sea
Oh, gems I touch only in memory.
by nette onclaud
for Put Your Best Rhyme Forward Contest
As daylight dims against a crimson sky
And evening star dust lightly dots the blue
And yesterday into tomorrow flies -
Like life, the twilight fades in different hues.
So bright the early days, then quickly gone
Like ships in freshened wind we gladly sailed
And through the midst of life forgot the dawn
As innocence of dreams became unveiled.
Each day the pages turn till end of time,
A story told and written as we pass,
So all that we have touched becomes entwined
And carried on beyond the very last.
We carry all we love along the way
Into the gloaming at the end of day.
For you, my love, I’ll be a single rose
of crimson hue, and velvet to the touch.
So warm in contrast to your fallen snows,
yet yearning for the thrill of winter's clutch.
Soft petals form a heart so firm and true,
unyielding to the tempest of your reign,
and though a cold wind nurtures doubt in you,
such purity of love I could not feign.
Dilemmas of the soul so keenly felt.
Bestow my love? or must it stay a dream?
for if I warmed your heart 'twould surely melt
and I would lose you to the flowing stream.
And so, my love, this single rose I’ll hide
and keep the love I feel for you inside.
Upon a deep blue rose, a scented song,
so delicate of harmony and sweet;
a melody, whose strains of love replete
I mused upon. To whom could it belong?
To claim such ballad ought have felt so wrong,
but I could ne’er its memory delete;
each note an echo in my own heart’s beat,
alluring me to drift and sing along.
Though how I wish I’d never found the rose
whose music stirred a restlessness in me;
where love once blossomed only sorrow grows
from searching for a love that cannot be,
and timelessly a tear-blue river flows
through heartache’s vale to discontentment’s sea.
Comes and it goes, sometimes more than other
times when you don’t want it to be there for you
and it seems you‘re never destined to cover
the possessions you don’t need to but you go through
so much pain just to remain innately insane.
Today I thought I saw the zenith of my dreams,
foolish me, as if the blind man can attain
visions of evaporated rain shaped like raceme
still stained on my window left from morning’s tears.
Life hangs heavy on this half-lit horizon just beyond
the glass separating me from all that I’ve feared;
to turn all those small puddles into big ponds
containing something uncontaminated with doubt,
maybe those coming clouds can end this drought?
Heavily tread, are those small fractious steps
On the stairs to my own peace of mind
The sound of transgressions that I'd rather forget
is the pounding of a most clamorous kind
The dialogue I'm having, within my own self
drums on the door of the closed minded truth
I try to rewrite scripts, shoving back on the shelf
But the turbulence shakes them loose
No matter, how buried, how deep I will hide them
My conscience can shovel them out
That child inside me, denies what was done then
But can't deafen the voices that shout
I profess to regret many sins I've committed
The most difficult task is one of admitting
Starring into the dross of amber brew
no face see I reflected, simply hollow I.
The stein of crystal tells no fortune spare,
nor one of bounty, yet what is true?
With drink, I dredge the pain of life anew
and wallow in the grain of cheaper wares,
degrade myself and blame fate, for my strife,
ignoring all God's gift, so loud I cry,
as salted tears stain trails of my despair.
If only, I had been a better wife
I'd not be sitting here.
Form: Curtal Sonnet [A precurser to the Italian Sonnet]
abcabcdbcd c [10 1/2 lines]