Best Pantoum Poems
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Pantoum
Poems
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Pantoum
Poem
Wayward Child
Memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide
grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passion now abides
for you have left me, long ago, and now, alone bereft.
Grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left
beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide
for you have left me, long ago, now so alone, bereft...
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside.
Beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide
We conceived a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief.
We conceived a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passion now abides,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief
Memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide.
Date: 8/8/12
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Inspired by Charles Henderson write
A Song of Michael's Rose
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Pantoum
Poem
Mileage on My Heart
The thought of seeing you again fills me with dread
I know the day will come; it’s inevitable
Mileage on my heart, feels like a worn out retread
Recycled emotions are undesirable
I know the day will come; it’s inevitable
My spirits sink at the mere mention of your name
Recycled emotions are undesirable
There was once a time your face set my heart aflame
My spirits sink at the mere mention of your name
What happened to those days? You were my special man
There was once a time your face set my heart aflame
This point we’ve reached was surely not in our game plan
What happened to those days? You were my special man
Our spring turned to winter faster than I could blink
This point we’ve reached was surely not in our game plan
Stop the world, let me off; I’m standing on the brink
Our spring turned to winter faster than I could blink
Mileage on my heart, feels like a worn out retread
Stop the world, let me off; I’m standing on the brink
The thought of seeing you again fills me with dread
By Carolyn Devonshire
For Paula Swanson’s “Pantoum” contest
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Pantoum
Poem
He Was My Sun
He was my sun, my one and only son,
and dressed up as a cowboy for the day.
And so I handed him a little gun
of fastened random sticks, for him to shoot and play.
And dressed up as a cowboy for the day
he found some foes (with bows and arrows made
of fastened random sticks for them) to shoot, and play
the part of redskins in a mock charade.
He found some foes (with bows and arrows made)
in his story books before he left for school.
The parts of redskins, in a mock charade,
were painted with a crimson war paint, oh so cruel.
In history books, before he left from school -
the tales they told, of victories that we’d won,
were painted with a crimson war paint, oh so cruel -
the flow of paint was hard to staunch when once begun.
From tales they told, of victories that we’d won,
he learned to fight for god and country glory, though
the flow of pain, ’twas hard to staunch when once begun
and cruel to both sides (as he’d later come to know).
He learned to fight for god and country glory, though
the wounds of war were still unseen (though nigh)
and cruel to both sides (as we’d later come to know);
and soon he stuffed his bag with several things of youth and said goodbye.
The wounds of war were still unseen. Though nigh,
the hours boomed, the clock struck 12, before his time to leave,
and soon he stuffed his bag with several things of youth and said goodbye
to those who’d stay and even those who didn’t grieve.
The hours boomed, the clock struck 12, before his time to leave -
they brought back bags they’d stuffed with severed things of those who’d died
to those who’d stayed. And even those who didn’t grieve
with tears were stiff, and hid in wooden boxes meant to hide.
They brought back bags they’d stuffed with severed things of those who’d died.
They brought his boots back, camouflaged with mud.
With tears, the stiff were hid in wooden boxes meant to hide
our children from the spilling of their blood.
They brought his boots back, camouflaged with mud.
They said they’d needed him to help defend
our children from the spilling of their blood.
But can they ever see or really comprehend?
They said they’d needed him to help defend,
and so they handed him a little gun.
But can they ever see or really comprehend?
He was my sun, my one and only son...
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Pantoum
Poem
Flowers on a Path
I follow the path of flowers that’s near
Each one a little different than the next
I desire to be close, with petals dear
Their blossoms are fancy and quite complex
Each one a little different than the next
I can smell their fragrance in the calm air
Their blossoms are fancy and quite complex
There’s not a bit of dismay nor despair
I can smell their fragrance in the calm air
There is peace and tranquility about
There’s not a bit of dismay nor despair
Living things they are, I sure will not pout
There is peace and tranquility about
I kneel down to pluck one up off the ground
Living things they are, I sure will not pout
The flowers, though loud, are the best around
I kneel down to pluck one up off the ground
The flower is red, that’s full of beauty
The flowers, though loud, are the best around
I’ve been blessed to see them actually
The flower is red, that’s full of beauty
I desire to be close, with petals dear
I’ve been blessed to see them actually
I follow the path of flowers that’s near
Russell Sivey
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Pantoum
Poem
Take Me Back
Faded photographs; a sentimental knick knack;
a much loved movie from so many years ago.
The times I chance on things like these, it takes me back.
The person that I used to be, I hardly know.
A much loved movie from so many years ago -
so out of style today, not like it used to seem.
The person that I used to be, I hardly know.
Time brought me swiftly to the Now. It seems a dream.
So out of style today, not like it used to seem -
that saved old pair of jeans; that certain special song.
Time brought me swiftly to the Now. It seems a dream,
I grow unsure if in this new world I belong.
That saved old pair of jeans; that certain special song;
the times I chance on things like these, they take me back.
I grow unsure if in this new world I belong.
Faded photographs; a sentimental knick knack!
Inspired by Paula Swanson's "Back to Back" Contest
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Pantoum
Poem
A Marriage of Seasons
November’s sitting at her loom.
For gown of lace, a wrap she weaves,
And when she meets her dauntless groom,
They’ll dance among the fallen leaves.
For gown of lace, a wrap she weaves.
Her groom shall wear a silver suit.
They’ll dance among the fallen leaves,
Their special song, a lone owl’s hoot.
Her groom shall wear a silver suit.
She’ll don the woven pearl-gray shawl.
Their special song, a lone owl’s hoot,
They’ll waltz at Autumn’s farewell ball.
She’ll don the woven pearl-gray shawl,
And when she meets her dauntless groom,
They’ll waltz at Autumn’s farewell ball.
November’s sitting at her loom.
By Andrea Dietrich
For SandyIvy's Good Enough Poetry Contest
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Pantoum
Poem
City of Joy,Kolkata,6 PM
Gradually she changes her dress
at the end of this winter day
like a beautiful stage actress
preparing herself for a play.
At the end of this winter day
City of Joy as she is called
preparing herself for a play
diamond petals slowly unfurled.
City of Joy as she is called
wearing her glittering ornaments
diamond petals slowly unfurled
blooming like a rose God sent.
Wearing her glittering ornaments
anklet to bracelet of lights
blooming like a rose God sent
waiting for visitors of night.
Anklet to bracelet of lights
Howrah Bridge is her necklace
waiting for visitors of night
checks her face on the Ganges.
Howrah Bridge is her necklace
like a beautiful stage actress
checks her face on the Ganges
gradually she changes her dress.
© kash poet 2012
**Click on "About this poem" to see her necklace,The Howrah Bridge
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Placement:5th ;(January 2012)
Contest:City Lights
Sponsor:Debi Guzzie
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Pantoum
Poem
The Blue Rose
Blue velvet was the rose gifted my heart.
Poet was he and blue the blood from his thorn,
a rose as blue as the summer skies
a rose as blue as his ice blue eyes.
Poet was he and blue the blood from his thorn.
So gifted was he with the blue roses form.
a rose as blue as his ice blue eyes,
with thorns as sharp as his beguiling lies.
So gifted was he with the blue roses form
a rose as blue as the summer skies
with thorns as sharp as his beguiling lies.
Blue velvet was the rose gifted my heart.
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Pantoum
Poem
A FLAME ONCE BURNED
A flame of desire that once flared, burned bright
Soft warmth radiated out of those shining starry eyes
Fueling the flame as the dreams take flight
When ambitions soared, the sky couldn't suffice!
Soft warmth radiated out of those shining starry eyes
That such blazed with tall hopes of the morrow
When ambitions soared, the sky couldn't suffice,
Just a few sparse wishes now left to borrow!
That such blazed with tall hopes of the morrow
Now too grounded to glance at the blue sky..
Just a few sparse wishes now left to borrow,
An idle spectator as golden life passes by!
Now too grounded to glance at the blue sky,
Staring blankly at interwoven lines of destiny
An idle spectator as golden life passes by,
A void in the absence of pride, grace and dignity!
Staring blankly at interwoven lines of destiny,
Collecting the urges to re-ignite the last spark..
A void in absence of pride, grace and dignity
To re-kindle the fire there, new journey to embark.
Collecting the urges to re-ignite that last spark
Fueling the flame as the dreams take flight
To re-kindle the fire there, new journey to embark
A flame of desire that once flared, burned bright...
Yesha Shah
30th November 2012
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Pantoum
Poem
Petals With Butterfly Wings
Let the petals get wings of butterfly
tell the withering rose to shed its sorrow
see how beautifully under the spring sky
petals will spread their wings tomorrow.
Tell the withering rose to shed its sorrow
like butterflies on their first flights
petals will spread their wings tomorrow
catching spring morning's first sunlight.
Like butterflies on their first flights
colourful flowers will be in the air
catching spring morning's first sunlight
spreading fragrances every where.
Colourful flowers will be in the air
see how beautifully under the spring sky
spreading fragrances every where,
let the petals get wings of butterfly.
© kash poet (kashinath karmakar)
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By:kash poet
Placement:1st; February 2013
Contest:Petals in The Wind
Sponsor:Gail Doyle
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