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Best Rondeau Poems

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Ghosts of France by Brian, HighWave
Memories of the Sea by Dietrich, Andrea
Despair by Tjandramulia, Sharon
Burning Daylight by Dietrich, Andrea
Just Within Reach by Dietrich, Andrea
THE MAKEOVER by tiwari, Khyati
The Accidental Sea by Duncan, Debbie
Stardust by L., Alicia
Hidden Beauty by Dietrich, Andrea
A PLACE IN THE SUN by Guillermo, Olive Eloisa

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The Best Rondeau Poems

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Hidden Beauty

Hidden beauty I know can dwell
within a body worn and frail.
I think of one who had been doled
great miseries, so once grown old,
his body seemed a dismal shell. .  

Although he’d lived on earth his hell,
grown nearly crippled and unwell,
his inner fortitude was gold -
                                         Hidden beauty!

Life’s many hardships could not quell
his positivity, nor fell 
that strength - his fire against the cold -
a virtue that should be extolled!
In knowing him, I well could tell
                                            hidden beauty.


written in the wee hours of Jan. 22, 2015

More great poems below...


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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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Spring

Let laughter ring, for here comes Spring. With warbling birds we gaily sing. As wizened Winter turns and goes, March promptly puffs her cheeks and blows! The Old Man’s gone. . . we’re rollicking when next comes April frolicking behind spry March. Her visage glows. Let laughter ring. Then Spring a climax sweet will bring. There at the Maypole, in a ring, are fetching maids in pretty clothes. And bounteous the sun now grows as June appears; . . Spring’s had her fling. Let laughter ring! Jan. 4, 2014 (Here comes Spring: I know , I know, wishful thinking!!)

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Just Within Reach

Just within reach - if only I could dare
to pluck that fruit! A luscious peach or pear?
No, not one of these! Metaphorically
I’m speaking! Like a bauble on a tree,
he brightly sparkled, beautiful and rare.

His eyes and lips were tender, and his hair -
smooth onyx framing one sweet face so fair!
That precious night I found sheer poetry
                                             just within reach.

To think I touched that face and loved to stare
at it, imagining the life we’d share
perhaps one day . . .  but it was not to be.
My fondest dream had possibility
till circumstance replaced what had been there
                                             just within reach!


Written 4/14/2015 for the Contest of John Lawless

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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

More great poems below...


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This Heavy Guilt

This heavy guilt weighing on me,
Like too many leaves on a little tree
Covered in rain from a sky that poured
I hurt a person who I adored
If I could have just let things be,
Then maybe he could now run free
Instead he stands numb with a silent plea
My actions, once sweet, are now deplored
This heavy guilt
He and I, once we
Now like locks without a key
The distance so great we could never ford
But his name still on my heart is scored
I wonder if the world can see
This heavy guilt

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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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I lay my head

I lay my head  upon the softness of its mane
My white charger, no knight for a swain
as I am the gallant rider looking for love.
Riding the green valleys with mountains above,
looking for hope in natures  fertile plain

A dream, a carousel  of  tears  and  pain
With bobbing horses making  a colourful train
Flying above a sure sign of hope, a dove
I lay my head 

Imagination in play as I search in vain
Why from happiness  must I abstain
My empty heart crying out to those above 
Praying each night, please bring me love 
Grabbing a handful of the silky white mane
I lay my head

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Autumn's Breath

The breath of autumn, from behind a veil of days lit golden, comes! The sun will fail to keep its fiery hold on us, and soon the trees will softly hum nostalgia’s tune as flutter-leaves reveal the season’s tale. Before fall’s glorious leaves begin to sail off limb of dying trees when chill winds wail, more welcome is (in nights beneath the moon) the breath of autumn! The bright hues of the season - never stale - stay warmly for awhile before they pale and winter brings to us its cold and gloom. Enjoy the harvest days; they are a boon! Release your soul to nature and inhale the breath of autumn. For Gail Angel Doyle's Autumn's Breath Contest

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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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A PLACE IN THE SUN

A PLACE IN THE SUN A place in the sun, it's there I want to run. . . Orange and yellow palette brush my face, they dry my wells of fears and so I won, I-- slowly flower from God's skirt of grace. Unfailing is His love shown sweet to His face, I eagerly crave to behold in million tons as to entwine in His warmth: My Master race. A place in the sun, it's there I want to run. . . Rainbow peeping after some raging storm spun; His reminder that we: His people must chase infant days to grow better with our love ones. Orange and yellow palette brush my face for God so kind. My pains, He soothes and erase. Tender are His words as I read them one by one helping me be fearless yet humble with my pace. They dry my wells of fears and so I won-- then my heart soar high, I have some fun. Evil always haunts but with Him, all I can evade, hence, troubles are little but close to none. I slowly flower from God's skirt of grace. . . God crashes darkness with love not by gun. Must we go elsewhere when He is the best hiding place? God is everything before even life began God our undefeatable fortress-- His base a place in the sun. __________________________________________________ Sponsor Gail Angel Doyle Contest Name A Place In The Sun Placed 1st ©O>E. Guillermo 10:20 pm. January 12, 2015

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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.

Robert J. Lindley, 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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Memories of the Sea

Memories of the sea wash over me
on days when clouds are drifting cottony
above my head through placid azure sky.
Such images flit like a butterfly
across my mind; I seize them gratefully!

They bring with them sweet thoughts of family
and times of which I now can testify
flowed out like tides to leave me by and by. .  .
                                                memories of the sea.

How young we were in days so summery!
Through waves we leapt, expending energy.
Sated, we lay sunning on the beach to dry,
till sunlight - like our youth - sank down to die.
But I will keep for an eternity
                                                 memories of the sea.


For the Memories of the Sea contest of  Isaiah Zerbst

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Burning Daylight

I’m burning daylight on a warm spring day,
Admiring in the park a bright array
Of peonies and pansies when I spy
Pirouetting round them, a butterfly.
How beautiful this outdoor noon ballet!

We’re sweltering; I take the hose and spray
My grand kids, shrieking in their summer play,
Just one of many other ways whereby
                                              I’m burning daylight!

With friends I’m sitting at a street café.
We’re laughing chattering our time away.
While sun ekes out the last drops from fall’s sky,
I see the dusk, a pink parfait, and sigh!
A chill is coming, which I must delay.  . . 
                                              I’m burning daylight.

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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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Carousel

I hear their laughter and see their bright smiles, Going round and round with joy together, Their rhapsody reaches far beyond miles, I hear their laughter. I believe their dreams make this world brighter, Rich childhood experiences in wee while Will teach the love to make them grow better, A hold of their hands, a care that's tactile. Carousel, a cradle of young dreamer, Children galloping up and down in style I hear their laughter.
©2013by Leonora Galinta Aug. 17, 2013 12.50am Form: Roundel Second Place Contest: Carousel in Roundel Judged: 8/19/2013 Sponsor: Poet Nette Onclaud

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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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A Surprise Gift

A summer kiss on winter night precious gift enough to ignite my teenage mind with burning flame a neighbouring dame with sweet name a cage-free bird on its first flight. Many years ago but still bright in my mind like day's first sunlight and how I enjoyed when it came a summer kiss. Like molten wax of candle light lips melted as she held me tight passion's fire was hard to be tamed a surprise gift from that sweet dame taste of manhood on winter night a summer kiss. © kashinath karmakar (19th December 2011) ===============000================= Placement:7th (Dec.2011) Contest:Gifts Given,Gifts Received a Rondeau Sponsor:Cyndi Macmillan

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CASTING HIS LINE


Casting his line, a love affair,
despite charcoal clouds and damp air,
my father would patiently wait
and trust in his favorite bait
for sweet solitude was rare.

Heaven, to him, was a low chair
by water, mouthing a prayer,
mom would gripe he’d stayed out too late
          casting his line.

Dad’s tall tales were beyond compare,
one pike was no match for a bear,
I miss how he’d ruminate...  
now, his rod I appreciate, 
so I take the greatest of care
          casting his line.




*written Dec 6, 2012

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a satin veneer


                         ~the satin doll~
               had voluptuous curves, grandeur, 
                        ~the satin doll~
                  with sultry voice and a sweet smile,
                  moved a president, it is clear,
                   Marilyn was childlike veneer,    
                         ~the satin doll.~

                      Weave a RONDOLET 
                              For Nette
                    By John Moses Freeman

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Autumn Harvest

Ripe red apples where ladders lean against the trees Ripe red apples where rust and green creates a chapel God's bounty nestles in the leaves A taste of autumn scents the breeze Ripe red apples!
... PD's contest: One Autumn Day (Form.....Rondolet)

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Guessing Game

Death is but life and life is death, I wonder,
Where does the spirit go when it's released?
Many beliefs have a different thought,
The body is just breathing that has ceased.

We wonder how many years we have left,
We live them like there is no tomorrow,
We dance in sunshine and run from thunder,
Death is but life and life is death, I wonder.

Everyone has their own personal sins,
Hiding in a closet they built of fear,
All have free will to have them unleashed,
Where does this spirit go when it's released?

So many religions do not agree,
The true path to God is forever sought,
I choose to chase spirituality,
Many beliefs have a different thought.

We all have struggles way down deep inside,
With cracks and holes and roads that have now creased,
Believer, atheist, agnostic, all.
The body is just breathing that has ceased.

All you've done is done, no reason to cry,
There is much more as far as I can see,
Did you once try to help humanity?
Is this your blown up personality?
Death is but life.