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Best Rondeau Poems

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That Night We Kissed

That night we kissed, my heart became a butterfly.
It sprouted wings and danced across the velvet sky,
then leapt across the multitude of stars there strewn
along its happy way to touch the crescent moon.
You held me close, but did you know my heart could fly?

And in its pounding, did you hear it testify
that you, and you alone, could ever satisfy
the woman that emerged from her secure cocoon
that night we kissed?

It onward soared with constellations yet to try. . .
my yearning heart, once captive, was no longer shy.
How can hearts set free be ever more immune
to sweet caresses in a night that all too soon
must have an end? I couldn't bear to say goodbye
that night we kissed.


For Joe Flach's Contest "First Time"
and now a very old oldie for PD's 
the May the best descriptive poem win~~~ ((old poems only))Poetry Contest

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To Feel

I want to feel my whole world burst, see scintillating stars dispersed across a vast unsullied sky the sapphire blue of my mind’s eye when life was fresh and untraversed. I want to jump again. . . headfirst into the ocean, be immersed as passion’s billows multiply. I want to feel! I want once more to WANT that thirst, expect the best and not the worst, to have my breath be stopped - to cry for heartbreak’s sake - not stop to sigh with rue that Fate can’t be reversed. . . . I want to feel. I saw a very interesting poem today called "To Feel Again" by a poet named "Little Known Nothing." I hope you will check it out and I hope I have written one that shares the "heart" of that poem. Coincidentally, I saw another poem with a very similar theme, which I also hope to have emulated: Wayland Bunch's "When I Ruled the World." For Catie Lindsey's 'The Heart of the Matter' Contest

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I Dreamed a Butterfly

I dreamed a butterfly in golden days when buttercups lay in the fields ablaze. It fluttered to my cheek, sweet love to bring. My heart was wont to burst and wont to sing. In breath of morn was scent of bluebell sprays. On blossomed blankets of the fields we’d laze, and into one another’s eyes we’d gaze, my love and I, as April had her fling. I dreamed a butterfly. Our bliss was as the spring, a fleeting phase, and brief’s the beauty of young lovers’ craze. As cruelly as a wasp, he left a sting - and all the lovely plans we made took wing, leaving mere memories of golden days. I dreamed a butterfly. 2/21/13 For Francine Roberts' Spring is in the air Poetry Contest

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Heartthrob

Upon her thorny heart I bleed;
My rose I nurtured from a seed,
With blazing bloom and perfume sweet,
Who pricked me with her warm deceit,
To where I gladly bade her leave.

Her eyes and smile they did precede,
A witchly soul that did deceive,
My love to stumble with conceit;
Upon her thorny heart.

If I could pluck her to be freed,
And rip her from my soul, indeed,
My lesson thus would be complete,
Sough not a love in lusty heat.
To this my penance I accede, 
Upon her thorny heart.

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A Blazing Fire

A blazing fire is crackling its refrain as I recall a love, perhaps not sane. Beside this hearth you tenderly caressed my body and we simmered; then we pressed against each other. Heat was our domain! My heart now pulses rhythm with a rain which beats staccato on my window pane. Torrential is the longing in my breast - a blazing fire. The warmth of your embraces soon would wane. You left, but images have seared my brain. . . like you in glow of dancing flames, undressed. I wish with all my soul that I were blessed to have you here again, for I remain a blazing fire May 2, 2014, for the Irritate Me Poetry Contest of Charlotte Puddifoot

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Wearied Wanderlust

"Wearied Wanderlust" upon a gilded meadow glows a bottle of tender tears scattered ashes burnt and laden carpeting of stone ravished emotions turbulent feasting on flesh and bone filtering through fibers as escalating fears harbor broken dreams evaporating in waning years as visions petrified reside in somber tone upon a gilded meadow glows Life's chilling chant of haunted love still stalks a tattered heart is wandering, wearied and all alone swallowed a bittersweet taste of vacant cone in endless patterns of desolate walks upon a gilded meadow glows..

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The Darkness at Noon

The darkness at noon -  We’ve been led
to walk with a blossoming dread
through streets, as if we have no will,
and all the world is strangely still.
We walk - no word among us said.

We all had seen the sky grow red
before our sun, which warmed us, fled!
It only stayed with us until
                                   the darkness at noon.

Our lungs can breathe. We have not bled,
but we are now the living dead,
for all around us grows a chill
upon the earth. Gone is the thrill
of light and life!  We see instead
                                   the darkness at noon!

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The Priest with Spirited Eyes

The Priest with Spirited Eyes


Heart sees tender giving in those spirited eyes,-
  Shared love given to those with great need!
   Comforting hearts that hurt but don't bleed,
 With love spent in helping as precious time flies

Your healing gently washes away so many lies,
   Mercy prevails as you plant that seed;-
Heart sees tender giving in those spirited eyes,
   Shared love given to those with great need!

As welcomed as are rain clouds in desert skies
   Healing those victims with kindness and speed!
   Hearts mended, imprisoned Souls quickly freed,
With tender mercies prevailing and joy in the cries,
Heart sees tender giving in those spirited eyes.

07/13/2014

Sponsor Debbie Guzzi 
Contest Name - Random Acts of Kindness 

Rondel
A French form consisting of 13 lines: two quatrains and a quintet,
 rhyming as follows: ABba abAB abbaA. The capital letters are the 
refrains, or repeats.

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Life Is a Dance

Life is a dance we were all born to do. The styles to choose from are more than a few! Some choose simple two-step; some move with flair. Some slow dance; some break dance, devil-may-care! Some free style, while others just dance on cue. Some tango with zest; some shuffle soft-shoe. Others glide easily, waltzing on through. Some change their partners; some stay one pair. Life is a dance. You start with the styles in your own milieu, then grow as you add on new moves you view. You’ll stumble, but sometimes dance on sweet air! Just keep the beat; try new steps if you dare, for where you end up is all up to you. . . Life is a dance! For Kim Merryman's Life Is... Poetry Contest

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Rebuild Anew

“Rebuild anew”, he said to me,
the one of stillness ‘neath the sea.
“Rise to the shore; as one we’ll stand.
These hardened castles made of sand 
protect your darkest memory.”

The lone wolf blows with certainty.
He shatters hollow masonry.
Destruction steadied by still hand.
Rebuild anew.

I only want tranquility, 
to end these tortures mindlessly.
My heart be still, my life be grand.
Upon the rock I claim this land
to reinvent my destiny.
Rebuild anew.

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