I walk through the glistening virgin snow
That covers the sorrow of autumn’s death
Where I find on a bush a frozen rose
Its beauty held ageless in winter’s breath
How I long to touch those petals again
Those moist velvet lips that promise such bliss
Opened in passion whispering my name
As I drift in dreams of a breathless kiss
Oh! To pluck this rose from the winter snow
And hold it closely to my aching heart
And free it from that ice so bitter cold
That now my love keeps you and me apart
But if I were to pluck this winter rose
Would all its petals fall upon the snow?
Author: Elaine George
Written: January 15, 2010
As I continue fighting what's on my line,
a flash of a fin breaks border.
Excitement extinguishes exhaustion
as I reel my recordbreaker ever closer.
Out of the depths of its element
it leaps into mine, displaying attainable
through diligence. As I pull, it dives back into
the blue boundary determined to be lost.
In order to bring both of our elements
into coexistence, I step out of my
comfort zone into the fish' element and
continue reeling. It relaxed and swam to me.
Blessings are hooked fishes fighting for freedom,
Perseverance is the net when you need them.
Touched by another.
I can't remember the other
lines you altered! Thanks!
Within the warmth of home, I sit amazed
at the gentle fall of snow through window pane.
Cup of tea in hand, my layered thoughts unchain,
and tumble from the tip of tongue unfazed
to land upon a pristine page appraised,
aided by the silent fall through snowy pane.
Oh, the soft white wintry glow 'pon the lane
leaves a graceful drape, Lord be praised.
Within the warmth of home, I muse on themes
of days to come and those gone bye and so,
I thank the Lord for all of nature's schemes,
for the gift of time, for peace, and for the snow.
Oh, make the blanket deep, I wish to dream,
may all my days and 'morrows have this glow.
I’m driftwood, and I’m floating out to sea
as sun descends upon my home - the grove
of trees whose fragrance still remains with me.
And likewise, heaven’s work of art, a mauve
surrounding me, now permeates my soul.
Warm water, in the twilight growing cold,
is rocking me. Beneath dark blue, a shoal
moves swiftly; overhead there will unfold
the myriad of stars in semblance of
a giant carousel in dimming sky.
Those stars that glitter for the grove I love
will glitter too for me, where here I lie
alone, enraptured. . . and I think I might
drift evermore, enveloped by this night.
Written by Andrea Dietrich
and entered in the Put Your Best Rhyme Forward!!!!!Contest
of Just That Archaic Poet
Avenge me not, for death has been a friend
and anger ill befits love's gentle wine.
All lovers true or not, must part, ascend:
rise, or fall, as life's trials their paths assign.
Still as bone, white as winter's snow my skin
by candle light, one can almost see inside.
My hair a gossamer halo, so thin,
my eyes, my blue eyes, still contain the tide.
I am your fair Persephone, your wife, bride,
and soon I will return to you Hades
to rise born on cherry blossom tides;
when in the earth, I can no longer bide.
Bless gentle Thanatos for his death sublime
and Hypnos, as in sleep, I do recline.
I am a wish a prayer from mortals lips
That reached heaven and touched God’s fingertips
And returned to earth wrapped in flesh and blood
A gift from God’s unconditional love
So love and cherish me as God does you
And guide and teach me well in all I do
And through the years a garden we will grow
Filled with the fragrant beauty of the rose
And on the day I reach maturity
And feel the need like leaves to leave the tree
To show the world the colors that are me
Rejoice in all the beauty that you see
For I am your child the gift that God gave
No More than a wish and a prayer - away.
Author: Elaine George
When fields gleam aureate and song birds sing
and transient stars in clusters scintillate,
when sweet perennials are coaxed by spring
to blossom forth, he comes with sprightly gait.
He wends his way along the mountain trails
past opalescent rush of streams and rills,
goat-footed, on the paths that ribbon dales
and wind around and up and down small hills.
Then nymphs appear as, through the woods, he trips
to flower-smitten meadows. Fancy-free,
he leads them with his reed held to his lips,
till blithely they embrace his rhapsody.
So hear the music; watch the wood nymphs spin. . .
Then captured by sheer merriment, join in!
For Nathan A.'s ANY POEM GOES Poetry Contest
Shine, Mediterranean Selene
unique goddess of this dark life
glow with pride and forget the strife
all my nights are lonely and serene.
I'm yours, only yours, pure and clean
and although your distrust is rife
soon, so soon... you'll become my wife
believe these words of sacred mien.
Do not let envy plant those seeds
of fear, of jealousy and spite
from the demons come those breeds
whose gossip and lies seek our fight
They're who expect your heart concedes
to steal what lives just for your light.
My love is like a worker's gloves grown old.
His hands are leather, roughened now with age
and years of work in weather hot and cold,
yet through the many years, he has grown sage. . .
My love is like a builder's pair of boots.
He's dusty and fatigued and still he walks
while trailing mud, but now his attributes
shine through despite life's many stumbling blocks.
My love is like a pair of jeans much worn,
a pair of socks with holes that have stayed warm.
Though time and all the trials he has borne
have left him frayed, he wishes no one harm.
To write a beaming sonnet would not do,
but threadbare love (in some ways) bests the new.
For PD's "first love poem~ (on the soup) Poetry Contest"
Written about a month after I came to Soup in the new year
I'm named a willow tree and live in grace,
the whole of me distinctive in its shape.
My elegance well suits this lush landscape
of hillocks flung across the field I face. . .
and gentle rills meander through this place.
In spring I don a long virescent cape
comprised of many supple arms that drape
to earth and, with Eve’s shadows, interlace.
Oh, countless times Sun’s flecked my every leaf
and Sky distilled her stars as night would creep.
Young lovers, though, have fled, their time so brief.
They used to spread a cloth to eat; then sleep
beneath me in my shade. They knew no grief. . .
Not privy to their destiny, I weep.