Just as days long ago, when decorum resolved,
before composure, and poise,.. were corsages, unknown
Where propriety mattered, and was favored as gold,
high society, has gathered to flavor their tea
There's a trellis, embraced by a rose climbing vine
Places are set, for dining in jade
beneath shadows that stretch under arthritic old trees
While slivers of sunshine, squeeze through the branches
of silver leafed limbs, in magnolia bloomed shade
Tea will be served, by large knuckled hands
at several round tables dressed with Swiss lace designs
Wearing lavender silk is our proper Grand Dame'
who fits her surroundings, as vintage as wine
Voices are lilting like the birds in the trees
Laughter and chatter, mingle with soft, summer breezes
A bouquet of old friends, around a few scattered tables.
Silver coifed hairdos, to make celebration
Crepe myrtle and wrinkles, beneath ashes and maples
Water cress munchies, and triangle creations
Sweet honey-suckle, tucked over the porches.…
Rose petal blossoms, are painted on china
Bridge cards, tumble by Blue Willow dishes
Biscuits from England, crumble sublimely
Large bosoms bouncing, and big floppy hats
Gossip dished up with lemon-sliced frowns
Up in the tree is the neighbor's calico cat
who catches a glance, and a chance to crawl down
Are they ladies of leisure, from a time that is lost?
Or a painting I've seen on the wall from the past?
Inspired By the Garden Party Contest
Sponsored By Cyndi McMillan 6/6/14
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
Discarded cotton t-shirt shrunken and stained
on the side of a street pot-holed and veined
pants sagging low with no shoes on his feet
headphones blaring to the latest hip-hop beat
Heading down to the corner looking for a score
the old 76 filling station with the boarded up doors
how times have changed in a mere forty years
youthful exuberance gone now nobody cares
Flash back we go to the days of my youth
hard work the requisite as was the truth
running on empty our roll was real slow
clean-cut attendant with bow-tie for show
Service with a smile, thank you and please
gone is simplicity and enjoying the breeze
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2016
I love the smell and softness
of a flower as it lay
spread in splendid color
and sweet aroma stayed
like a virgins' kiss
with inviting touch
that gently opens
to give itself away.
Copyright © Jeff Burris | Year Posted 2006
He caught a ride to somewhere going nowhere;
first hopped inside a slowed-down limousine.
The driver felt a chill and turned to stare
at someone seated in the back unseen.
A new car’s scent; the passenger smelled nothing.
The seat of luxury he could not feel.
The driver then off-key began to sing
to no one as he slowly tapped the wheel.
His passenger joined in and crooned unheard
that ancient tune “It was a very good year,”
his old blue eyes once clear becoming blurred,
and down his cheek there rolled a single tear.
Again compelled, the chauffeur turned his head -
then saw a small spot where the tear was shed.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
Released and slowly drifting to the earth,
the leaf departs her tree in mournful grace;
though both will live to see another birth,
none same will be returning in her place.
We meet as always in the space between
the branch's bud and parting leaf stem's end;
a tearful eye, a tugging force unseen
does will the laws reverse, gravity bend.
Enhanced though was the nearly naked tree
by springtime's bloom, her fallen trembling love -
released to serve another destiny -
in turn, will be the better than above.
Leaf falls to rest, and in her fading sigh,
she breathes to tree her final sad goodbye.
Copyright © Tracy Decker | Year Posted 2007
My sweetest cravings, fledglings in a nest,
were held up high; into the air released
by my eager child’s hands. A world to test
was mine before youth’s wishing time had ceased.
The birds who have come back to visit me
are well-remembered dreams that have come true.
The pleasant yellow finch; the chickadee
and skylark gave me nothing I should rue.
The cardinal would warble in my ear.
I yearned for him, but he did not stay long.
The bluebird too I hoped to always hear.
She comes and goes. At times I hear her song.
And long forgotten wishes to grow older
are sparrows at my door as life grows colder.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012
No not the portrait when you were younger, my dear
Just a Polaroid snapshot at the beach that year
No earrings, no make-up, your hair was a mess
("So what? Got a problem? I couldn't care less!")
Brother-in-law behind you, muggin' like a fool
Our nephew beside him, tryin' to look cool
You had a little patch of sand on your chin
But oh, what a smile; what a wide, joyful grin!
Living that moment, on a rollicking high
Complete in the present, no when and no why
(Now you're tucked away safe in our own special place
So you'll always stay with me when I tremble and ache
Sometimes I unfold you when I miss you too much
Press you tight to my forehead and weep at your touch)
For the contest Trashed #4 - Sponsor, Broken Wings
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2012
The afternoon outlined. The sunny strokes
of a samurai blade on her body
revealing things the eyes feign see.
Tempted, wounded, the virgin parchment floats
between her skin and satin cloak.
Artist; afternoon, craving company
draws her inside-out so innocently,
on purpose leaves the yolk indwelling.
The painter in the corner moans,
he jealous of the afternoons artly
Improving skin, bare olive tones
of subtle pastel, the moment partly lost
to the constellations.
Copyright © Jim Marshal | Year Posted 2010
A dreadful memory upon life’s sea
Returns to the days when life was carefree.
A spiritual youth faced the world alone.
Distracted by life and its sinful groan.
I thought that my Savior was by my side.
Whispers from Satan deceived my abide.
There is no God; it is a ruler’s toy.
To make men subservient was the ploy.
Scientists discovered we came from apes.
Questioning God, I ate bananas, grapes.
The devil deceived me with many lies.
Despite my souls whisper and needed cries.
I turned away from God for a short time.
When wisdom returned, life became sublime.
© Dane Smith-Johnsen
October 26, 2010
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2010
The gath'ring dusk draws this fall day to term.
October crowned with warmth and radiant light.
The sun in arc across the sky confirms
that these fall days be passionate and bright.
Heroic are the colors autumn wears,
yet soon their rich-hued robe will fade away.
Then comes the sting of winter's icy airs.
We wish that frozen season could delay.
The gleanings of these golden days are rich.
A cache of gifts held in our hearts, sublime.
Nostalgia is the providence with which,
we warm our spirit during winter-time.
Hold fast, through dormant seasons, keen and cold.
Soon warmth will grace spring light to be extolled.
Copyright © Brian Baumgarn | Year Posted 2015
What Fantasy, Just To Think To Touch Her Curves
Flowing from her curves, hot buckets of steam
She the sexpot, in every man's lustful dream
With her smile, a man's imagination could fly
Worst words she could ever say, would be good-bye!
What fantasy, just to think to touch her curves
Her soft touch could rattle any man's nerves
That voice, rivaled angels above gladly singing
When she moaned, historic echoes kept a'ringing!
There was such treasure in the sight of her legs
So much that sooner or later every man begs
The vision of delight, the sight of her breasts
Refusing such charms, nobody had passed such tests!
Flowing from her curves, deepest desire ever known
She the devil's bride, tempts by just standing alone!
Note, A sexy sonnet about ***** ******** -- I met her last night.
July 27th, 1979
PRESENTED AS WAS WRITTEN , SO LONG AGO. Complete with that old note.
Name erased by me now ! I Almost messed up and posted it...:whistling2:
I can still see her image from that first night!
Burned into my mind as a memory of my once wild life.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
Time, It So Cleverly Slips Away
Time slipped, slipped into the sunset mist
looking back, I saw only half done list
There was that trip to a green island shore
never arrived there, missed so much more!
Time raced, quickly raced so very far away
Looking back, heart sinks into dismay
There was her hand, that touch forever gone
never gotten, was her sweet love alone!
Time fled, fled into that bitterly dark sorrow
looking back, heartache eats tomorrow
There was love, gathered at such a dear cost
never gotten, greatest treasure now lost!
Time, time why ever did you dare race me?
The faster I chased, the faster you did flee!
May 9th, 1990
Note- today found out she passed away. Never got to say goodbye
Time cheated me, it shall now pay..
Old note presented with old poem because it reminds me the insanely foolish battle
I wanted while still drunk on whiskey!
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
I want to be alone where skylarks sing
Where primroses grow wild and bluebells ring
Where sweet the fragrant scent of Mountain thyme
Back in the glen that once was yours and mine
I’m wistful for the sights, the sounds, the smells
The purple evening sheen of heather bells
I miss the gloaming’s hazy mellow light
As summer’s day fades slowly into night
My heart tells me, I’m lost, I must return
To see my highland home, my woodland burn
Refresh, and set my captive spirit free
Among the hills forever calling me
This lonely pain is razor sharp and strong
Tomorrow I go back where I belong.
Copyright © Margaret Foster | Year Posted 2010
Well of Memory Calls My Heart And Soul
Well of Memory, sweet love thoughts I treasure
holding great loves and joys beyond measure.
Mere moment's thought summons up such delights
to soothe my lonely spirit on the darkest nights.
Without those gems, life would be so dead and dry
much like a calm ocean without a blue sky.
Perish the thought, birth not such a nightmare
bring not my early death by such a scare!
Seek in peace, to live to a happy and ripe old age
vanquish my greatest fears, conquer my epic rage!
Pray I, travel on while deeply, serenely sleeping
Be long gone before the heartache and sad weeping.
Longings of heart and mind upon illness and old age.
Imaginations soaring, seeking solace within last page.
Robert J. Lindley, 07-18-2014
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
Those Youthful Days Were Intensely Sweet
In poetic words, disillusionment I often paint,
about a wild man that was never a saint.
A life that raced into darkness in such haste,
never seeing the coming misery and waste!
There were hills of thrills to happily scale
never thinking of either heaven or hell.
I grabbed the pleasures that deep lust demands
while dancing to music of rock n roll bands!
O' yes, those youthful days were intensely sweet
and every day a challenge to have a blast.
Now in my maturity I find that this I must meet
reality of my faded memories shall not last.
Time has a way of delivering its greatest hits.
Memories found false, one rarely forgets.
Robert J. Lindley 1-19-2015
Note: Memories even if bitter sweet, are still gold
when one wants to frolic in the past and ponder
the what-ifs, the if-only's and the I should-of's...
You know you are old when you look back more than you look forward methinks. Old age, the great equalizer..
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016
She so lovingly remembers her grandfather here.
Tho many years gone; his memories kept near.
This book he read to her while she sat in his lap.
Taking her on great adventures; imaginations tapped.
Inhaling the aroma of orange blossoms, sweet.
Hungry after each journey, this fruit they would eat.
Filled with such nostalgia it's his scent she misses;
cherry pipe tobacco, also tasted on his kisses.
This has become a tradition for her each year;
happy memories filling her with joy, never tears.
For he is on an adventure in paradise now;
another for her to join him, when she is laid in the ground.
She will read to her grandchildren from this old book one day.
Where precious memories of her in this garden will be made.
Contest: A poem in Paradise
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014
SUNDAY DINNER (Hillbilly sonnet)
Ma's cookin now, so come and set a spell
and you can bet we'll have her Sunday best
before the settin sun, and who can tell
what's on her stove--but it will meet the test.
Can't you just smell that fryin chicken now?
And you must know the gravie's fresh and hot
for pourin on them taters--I allow
a little more than I should have--so what?!?
The butter it just melts on bread so light
to compliment the vegetables we grow,
now if you know a life that's half as right
as this, you'd better make it yours to know.
And I will say the grace, to thank God for
what He has give--so He will give us more.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2013
With stretched brows, while sitting in a corner
I look up from my specs just out of love.
As she lays food on table and stoops lower
Snipes me from grace of her body thereof.
With eyes on her I come there as if drugged
Feeling tickling smell of the hot soup.
Now she puts a sheaf of flowers in a jug
And pours in water pressing it in group.
I see how the necks and cups get entwined
With the curls of her hair and points of crest.
See how at each stalk her waist curves defined
Budding, abloom in the shape of her breasts.
Soup and food lay cold and my body warm
As she swirls and whirls her skirt like a storm.
December 15, 2014
Form: Sonnet (Pentameter)
First Place win
Best of 2014 by Carol Eastman
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2014
Ah quanta nostalgia
Ah what memories
Mentre tutto va
When everything’s going
Oltre I limiti della mia fantasia
Beyond your wildest dreams
Dove tutto e paradise se
Where all is paradise
Giorni di liberta di festa
A day of freedom and celebration
La musica dolce suorna
The sweet music plays
Io pensavo e stato giusto
I thought it was right
Voli e brividi
Thrills and dreams
Copyright © evrod samuel | Year Posted 2013
Where were you when my world fell apart?
The Sun darkened and the Moon just fled.
All had been done and all had been said.
And ripped to shreds was my beating heart.
Even the Seas began to part.
And the Mountain tops spread.
I lay there completely dead.
Even the Stars I could not chart.
If only you knew,
If only you were there,
If only you had a clue!
If only life had been fair!
I’d turn the clocks back,
Still standing dead in my track!
Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2013
"...when power corrupts, poetry cleanses."
--John F. Kennedy
A frat asked, will you ever forgive her?
Come! The house has a toast for you tonight!
Now forget—this is not the way you were!
Let’s walk frat, tomorrow will be alright!
Let her go and have her own way each day;
Cleanse the taint with an aromatic bath
Let done be done forever—God molds the clay;
Come! Stand with us—let Him show you the path.
When entreated with her loveliest lies
Spread your wings to the sky with open ears;
Brittle vows and fragile oaths always die
Shallow days, months, years they too disappear.
Upon the rising sun—look to the East,
A royal feast, my frat—that’s the least!
© Joseph, October 22, 2008
© All Rights Reserved
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2008
Dangling from the tree I can see,
Broken wind chimes that still sing.
They just hang on by a split string.
Sending a harmony of tunes to thee.
Their tones and vibrations are a bit broken for me.
I listen and I ponder for what tunes they can bring.
From the tree they will sway when they can swing.
Bits and pieces are released through the air and flee.
Caught in the wind is it’s vibrations.
Carrying signals of great magnitude.
Funneling clouds into new creations.
Bringing air into a brand new mood.
Broken wind chimes can still sing a song,
But their messages are scattered all along.
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2007
Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2010
On the walls of an old rickety shed
Are names of sojourners who've passed this way:
Now my wandering boot does older tread
Where I passed on a long forgotten day!
Winding a road less travelled to the sea
Drinking beer, watching the wind and tide turn,
Where long into the night I would tarry
And aerodrome air squadron lights did burn.
When skyhawks flew but I dive bombed its depths
And more than once was the lifesaver thrown!
In idle times I climbed those ocean steps
Reckless and lonely - but rarely alone.
Now time and tide fade on this hidden cove
Where beneath the waves the taniwha rove.
Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2014
Twelve and twenty black birds baked in a pie
Sounds to me disgusting, would probably make me die
I hate those big blackbirds that pilfer on the street
I can't imagine that they would ever taste sweet
What kind of baker would bake them in a pie
Sounds like he was drinking or probably getting high
I like my pies with fresh fruit or creamy custard
I can't even imagine a pie that's filled with black birds
Sometimes those authors of Mother Goose rhymes
Must have been with Edgar cutting up some lines
Or maybe with that Lewis Carroll smoking opium
For the things they wrote back then were more scary than fun
Living in a shoe, or being Jack so quick
It seems ridiculous to jump over a candlestick.
Copyright © Jennifer Marie Oliver | Year Posted 2013
double Chaney Lugosi and Karloff
those four are the most known monsters all time
and each monster they portrayed had spinoff
I grew up with those monsters on prime time
my mother saw them in the theatres
I saw them years later on the tv
the Cheneys’ monsters hasn’t been better
today the classic monsters hard to see
those monsters like poetry my fine wine
my mother enjoyed Dracula the most
Abbott and Costello met Frankenstein
all the monsters today are way to gross
Lon didn’t want his son to follow him
the wolfman out lived his father’s phantom
Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2013
Who shall dare to die or to love among the Furies?
Not carry us by lustiness rather by the purpose, wisdom
Whose radiant rage welcomes you and the ambiguities?
And if that unfair, dropsy with pain, then none creates martyrdom;
To recall part of our age, oh bone! The hide prize
From our own mistake in front of the angers and crimes
Aside what left, for in the bloody world that appear to allegorize
And the hate melt cannot freeze from the above cleomes;
Remember we pass through, seal by a target unseen
From a God to subserve in massive, superlove, with such thing
Longingly upon the unforgiving hills from that delirious tween
Of the idea, screaming from every angles the abjuring
Horizon in red; and throw into inflammation,
A day end, nothing to reconcile, a caste of passion.
Copyright © George Zamalea | Year Posted 2012
While dreaming of my childhood ocean ties,
mem'ry's chandelier sheds light, somewhat eclipsed.
The essence of the salt still stings my eyes;
the rusty taste of iron hangs on my lips.
The ocean’s fragrant spray not quite so fair
as I recall; it makes me think of death.
Many a moon has set since I was there;
destiny speaks to me - my own last breath.
The ocean’s soft waves bring dulcet mem’ries,
my mama’s silk scarf brushing ‘gainst my face.
Turbulent storms always left me on my knees
under safe precipice back of our place.
It is there my dreams rest as I stand by;
it’s there I shall be buried when I die.
inspired by nette onclaud's poem from 6/12/11, Even After Twilight Loves
We miss you, nette, and long for inspirations from your pen as you have time and
energy. Meanwhile we read your poetry and pray for whatever keeps you away from us to end.
Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2013
As sure as I stand in the mixed of this garden,
Glimmering gold falls to the earth by my call.
Many are great and then some are a bit small.
I release magnets clutching an obscene pardon.
It is like balancing a beam that only I will harden.
I wrap myself into a silver plated resilient shawl.
Person place and time steadily climb up to maul.
It’s a give or take rejection expected to turn on.
One day ye shall see,
My Moon half drawn,
Ye see it was all of me.
Your Sun will be gone.
Only one Star shall rise up above my name.
It’s a special place inside my heart I frame!
®Registered: Ann Rich 2007
Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2011
Hither I stand, at crossroads,
And then I gaze, at the yonder end-
The vague horizon from where I began;
And all that I may ever deem
Is that- my days
Have been a waken dream.
Hither I stand, at the edge of my dream;
Then I wonder, at the depth of my trance-
An adventurous journey through the wondrous woods;
An idyllic stroll through the vicissitudinous meadow;
And from the final station as I depart,
All that I can ever say, is that
Perpetuation has been a rouge
Of fleeting phases of my life.
St. Stephen’s College.
Copyright © Suyash Saxena | Year Posted 2013
I had forgotten freckled fields of white
where our fair petals synchronized their dance,
and beauty’s cadence sung to ears romance,
on Monet’s clouds lilting love notes to heights.
I had forgotten silk-winged butterflies
adrift on breezes sunned in Mexico.
Their brightened wings sung stories of their own
when silent words fell into lover’s sighs.
Lost lyrics in your eyes have brought to mind
sounds of our music and your windy ways,
soulful melodies of forgotten days,
my lullaby on darkened nights unkind.
I pray our chance meeting opens that door
and dreams become life's dance forevermore.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015