Best Ode Poems
Ohh the days have been many here
but that day her name was seen
struck a fear deep inside.
Could she really be that mean?
Time passed as her name
echoed in my head aloud.
I looked at her work in amaze
at how beautiful she can inspire
the words in poems she wrote.
Soon we were souper friends
continue to inspire others work
so they would become the best.
Contest she made work
so all could see the finest.
She will be missed here
but a destryoer she was not here.
Dedicated to my best friend the poet destroyer
ODE TO THE HYDRANGEA
Misunderstood little Mophead,
They call her ‘Changing Rose’,
Her colour comes from the soil
And the acidity in which she grows.
Chorus: Water in her name,
Water in her veins.
Blue Azorean stranger,
Nothing rhymes with Hydrangea.
Graceful in the half-sun,
She turns pink with added lime.
At home in the Himalayas,
Found globally over time.
Water in her name,
Water in her veins.
Blue Azorean stranger,
Nothing rhymes with Hydrangea.
Not a flower but a shrub,
Grandiflora and Annabelle
Splash their petals radiant,
A most hardy perennial.
Water in her name,
Water in her veins.
Blue Azorean stranger,
Nothing rhymes with Hydrangea.
When Light needed a body to behold, and color to kiss,
as Darkness dreamnt to die in the dawn of depth,
when Soul lustered to lust for learning, and being learned,
as blood bespoke to bones for building a star of flesh,
when Time needed the umbrage of it's ubiquity to be understood,
the moment texture tempted touch to tease with a thousand sensations,
when laws of love sought a language to express the extremes of it's lips,
as romance rampaged through the ravishings of famished hearts,
when the seduction of sorrow made heros of loving men and women,
When Justice appealed to the instincts of intent for inscriptions of innocence,
as bravery found battle in basic questions of survival and conquest,
when war demanded a metaphor in the terror of it's diligent destruction,
as Faith found resolve in seconds small along with giant gestures,
Death singing melancholy for sympathy and Life haughty upon it's horizon,
when Angels chose to wear albatross of gold to feel the rue of rogues,
as the most perfect woman ambushed the ideals of rumored beauty,
when God wanted imagination to create immaculate reality
Poetry began, born in the instant of forever Art,
because, the only promise of a Poet, is Passion -
Dedicated to Poetry...J.A.B.
Love is a silent emotion,
invisible to open eyes.
But, I saw the naked soul
of her enigma -
my universal truth.
A pristine state of perfection.
As her 'silence' whispered to my soul
in a million ways -
I felt her pangs
As her spirit breathed my oxygen,
my heart forgot about gravity,
feeling immortal in every beat.
Now a small flame kindles in
her chocolate brown eyes -
hotter than wildfire.
I see beyond her invisible veil,
hiding her divinity, wrapped under,
her tanned bronze satin skin.
Smoother than a bed of feathers -
would to touch it, be a sin?
Her fruitful lips of blissful nectar,
are an eternal passage,
covered in ethereal dew,
awaiting my soul with promises
for unseen paradisaical passion -
a taste would leave one intoxicated.
The mind pleads with time to be kind,
for the heart to remain patient -
for distance to not become an adversary.
Because,
nothing could define her elegance,
in any form of artistry;
a poet has no vocabulary,
a musician without a beat to his melody,
a painter without control in his masterstroke.
Her aroma is a rare scent from petals,
my hands could never fathom to blossom.
Her love is like the sun rays of a new dawn,
forever, ascending my heart with warmth.
I am her cloudless sky, for her glory to shine,
the ripples in her deep ocean -
for her to bathe within me.
In my quest to be within her embrace,
I shall keep the vampires from her door,
slay the demons who bring her darkness.
Face Satan in his satanic seas.
Be the whirlwind in her storm,
releasing her from chains of uncertainty.
Once, I gazed at the stars,
wondering where you were.
My musings writing about your arrival.
You appeared to end all seeking,
filling my hollowness with endearment -
became the last drop of my ink.
To the little machine, that's so hard to clean
And sits alone on the shelf,
I'm thankful to you, for that potion you brew
That turns me into myself.
You may be a squatter, but I still give you water
Some grounds and then flip a switch
My steps I retrace, brush teeth, wash face
Come back and drink 'til I twitch
You're always ready, you drip so steady
And that smell is heaven sent.
You always work quiet and help with my diet,
My hunger you circumvent.
I have heard you stutter, sometimes spit and sputter
But in truth, that's all on me
If I do my part, then simply push start
Then you do the rest for free.
You start everyday helping me find my way
As I wake in my early brain fog
Then at noon, then night, you continuously delight
You're my hero, my silent demigod
Life wasn't the same before you came
I just couldn't seem to wake up
So here's to you and all that you do
A Toast! Hang on, let me fill my cup.
Daniel Turner
2/22/23
Love is a silent emotion,
invisible to open eyes.
But, I saw the naked soul
of her enigma - my universal truth.
A pristine state of perfection.
As her 'silence' whispered to my soul
in a million ways - I felt her pangs.
As her spirit inhaled my oxygen,
my heart forgot about gravity,
feeling immortal in every beat.
Now a small flame kindles in
her chocolate brown eyes -
hotter than wildfire.
I see beyond her invisible veil,
hiding her divinity,
wrapped under her tanned satin skin.
Smoother than a bed of feathers -
would to touch it, be a sin?
Her fruitful lips of blissful nectar,
are an eternal passage,
covered in ethereal dew,
awaiting my soul with promises
for unseen paradisaical passion -
a taste would leave one intoxicated.
The mind pleads with time to be kind,
for the heart to remain patient -
for distance to not become an adversary.
Because,
nothing could define her elegance,
in any form of artistry;
a poet has no vocabulary,
a musician, no beat to their melody,
a painter, no control in their masterstroke -
her aroma is a rare scent from petals,
my hands could never fathom to blossom.
Her love is like the sun rays of a new dawn,
forever, ascending my heart with warmth.
I am her cloudless sky, for her glory to shine,
the ripples in her deep ocean -
for her to bathe within me.
In my quest to be within her embrace,
I shall keep the vampires from her door,
slay the demons who bring her darkness.
Face Satan in his satanic seas.
Be the whirlwind in her storm,
releasing her from chains of uncertainty.
Once, I gazed at the stars,
wondering where you were.
My musings a premonition for your arrival.
You appeared to end all seeking,
filling my hollowness with endearment -
became the last drop of my ink.
while eagles soar high
over rugged mountains
of south carolina
through writings shared
WolfSpirit takes shape
my mind pictures the man
in all his wisdom
half human half spirit
i hear his deep voice
gentle with tones of
clarity and insight
the philosopher speaks
with intensity and
full gamut of emotion
from depths within
he wears his name like a headdress
more than a mere badge of honor
he pays tribute to both
land and its creator
behind him a noble lineage
of a proud peaceful people
his code is truth and honor
delving into life
and its many meanings
pondering the implications
of beauty and the beast
his poetry reflects on
dreams alive and broken
past hurts and scars
life and love interwoven
and all the rest
that binds mankind
through harmonious melodies
of visions of brotherhood
AP: 1st place 2020, Honorable Mention 2023
strophe
I stand on the snow covered mountain
Colorful vase of flowers
Slopes with flower beds laden
I saw the snow lotus flowers
I asked, “Why are you all alone here?
Beauty is meant to be adored.
Should give yourself to somebody
Before your petals fall to dust soon, dear.
What if I crushed your petals, I asked
As at these heights, you are quite lonely”..
antistrophe
One of the flowers quickly responded
“I enjoy the shelter of blue skies.
I would be too glad
If you choose to crush my petals
My fragrance will spread everywhere.
Fulfilling the purpose and duty
If destroyed, not admired.
By plucking my petals, remember
You won’t gather my beauty,
Beauty is to see, not to be plucked'.
epode
“O’ lotus, you teach wisdom to man
Praise her beauty, don’t destroy her.
It is the gladdest thing under the sun
Touch a hundred flowers not pick ever”
O’ man, pluck not wayside flower even
It is the traveler’s dowers.
Silently a flower blooms alone
And in silence it falls down
If I am worth many pleasures,
I think I am too few then”.
===================================
June 15, 2014
Form : Ode
First Place win in
Contest: My favorite poem by Carol Eastman
===================================
Form: Ode (the Homostrophic or Horatian Ode)
Rhyme scheme: ABABCDECDE (Ten lines)
Second place winner in
Contest: Ode sponsored by Jared Pickett
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
This is the English Ode, also called the Homostrophic or Horatian Ode.
The Romantic Ode often followed the Irregular Ode's structure
and the Homostrophic Ode's meditative quality.
====================================
The poem also won the second place in the International Poetry
Contest of 2011 by Poetry Soup.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I
An ode to the courageous hummingbird
The tiniest bird, but bravest of all
He flits about without saying a word,
When most unexpected he comes to call
Fluttering gossamer wings rapidly,
He graces the feeder in an instant
While hovering in usual fashion,
His colorful feathers preened nattily
The ruby at his throat most dominant
--Epitome of avian passion.
II
His coat glistens with iridescent hues
Most easily seen in the bright sunlight
He’s glaring at me from his fleeting views,
Interrupting his bold, erratic flight
I look back at him with determined poise
Enraptured by his slow backward retreat
With rare aplomb think him taken aback,
I hear his delightful low humming noise
As he refuses to admit defeat,
Comes quickly to my face, spiraling back.
III
Oh, sweet little fellow so loved and prized
Topic of bird-lovers conversation
Yet when you appear, I am so surprised
Enamored with your gay presentation,
Wanting to hold you to my gentle breast
To say I have made you my little friend
Your colorful beauty so astounds me,
So far surpassing Mother Nature’s best
Lovelier shades always make up your blend
Love you, hummingbird, my pleasure to see.
[NATURE]
Submitted to: "2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 2" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
June 15, 2022
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written April 28, 2022
Syllables check with HMS
written for "O Form - Ode - New Poems - Poetry Contest"
sponsored by Constance La France
#4 on BEST NEW POEMS LIST
Poetry Soup
May 27, 2022
No mere river, thou art nation’s heartbeat,
That you came from heaven may be a myth,
Not that for common good ye fell beneath,
For centuries ye lift people’s spirit.
Let me call thee India’s stand-in sub soul,
O Brahma-vari, heaven’s holy waters,
Thou worshipped art in thy all as a whole,
I bow to Thee, Holiest of all Daughters.
Many a meditating muni’s mind
Mused were by thy serene, calming presence,
And far from the humdrum of mundane grind,
Shelter have found at thy banks for long hence.
King Bhagirath’s penance once brought ye here,
In penitence to wash ancestors’ sins,
With this hoary burden of long ye steer,
We need a new Bhagirath ye to cleanse.
Ye had, we know, condescended to come,
Known as Brahma’s haughtiest of daughters,
Boasting of ‘my cascading flood waters’,
Shiva tamed thee, taught a lesson wholesome.
Sad, mere rituals seem all that remain
Today, wreaking ‘pon thy soul vast damage,
Yet, all this done is in thy holy name,
Ye sure suffer, suffer in silent rage.
A holy thee flows in all us within,
We need not come to thee to wash our sin,
Bathe nor worship, sully thy soul so clean,
But people are what they have always been.
O Mother, under thy sons’ sins ye moan
As ye thyself need a bath of thy own.
A poet was so pained and hurt to call:
O Ganga, why ye care to flow at all! ____________________________________________
Brahma-vari in Sanskrit means (holy) water from Brahma, the supreme creator. Bhagirath (Sanskrit: ?????, Bhagiratha), a legendary king of Ikshvaku dynasty who brought the Sacred River Ganges (personified as the Hindu River Goddess Ganga) to earth from heaven to liberate his ancestors and Sagar’s sons from sins.
Ode |16.05.2021|
Topic: river, mother
Known for miles around
As the Queen of Croissants
She’d perfected her art for years
But at what cost
More physically demanding than you might think
She gave the best years of her youth
Working at a small town bakery
The strain on her hands and body taking their toll
Owners had lucked out and they knew it
She loved her art and would have done it for free
Trying to produce the work of three
Never took a sick day in twenty-five years
Couldn’t have worked harder if the place had been her own
The owners were greedy, looking to save their own hide
Watched her toil while they leisurely went about their day
Went on vacations leaving her the keys
Knowing all too well the place would run smoothly
Heaven forbid she would get a thank you
Or - bite your lip – a bonus
AP: 2nd place 2020
March 4, 2018 Poem of the Day
Sentinel of water’s beauty and breadth,
grand messenger of danger
so statuesque around an ocean's expanse--
O beaming guardian of light
Moon and waves crest upon dark of eve,
it’s time for you to flame!
Circle on for voyager’s harborage
illuminate this ferocious brine;
In quiet comfort, in nightfall’s embrace
whisper of vigilance... point out the shore
as your noble wardship rules ,
when stardust pales away…
Till boats drift across the horizon
And tower bells hum a soothing lullaby--
Allowing men the cuddle of your grace.
Lighthouse Contest of Eve Roper
12/23/2018
Quote: " I am the last leaf on the tree and the wind is blowing" --G. Hinckley
In the fading light of autumn's embrace,
A poet's pen dances, a tribute to grace.
An ode to the last leaf, resilient and strong,
A symbol of endurance, a theme of the song.
While the valley and the hills have transformed into colorful space,
You, the last leaf, linger in this desolate space.
You have watched the vibrant dance of leaves with the wind,
Their colors ablaze, a spectacle to rescind.
Caterpillars transformed, to butterflies they soar,
Yet here you remain, grounded, yearning for more.
Eagles circle overhead, a somber sign,
Of your impending fate, a destiny entwined divine.
All other birds have taken flight, left youe behind,
Locked in solitude, with thoughts unkind.
You await the mighty gust, the breath of release,
To set you adrift, to grant you peace.
Like the cycle of life, uncertain and vast,
You ponder your fate, as each moment goes past.
When you finally descend, to the earth below,
You will join the chorus of leaves, in nature's grand show.
In that final moment, you will be free at last,
No longer confined by the seasons that gone past,
For in the end, like the leaf in the fall,
We all return to dust, surrendering to the call.
O beloved Sun, that gently warms my soul,
with soft strings of saffron and golden shine,
I write this poem with symphonic stardust,
when euphonious memories soar above
clusters of sapphire butterflies,
when rainbows reflect a glow of nostalgia.
Allow the inked verses within
these maternal veins~
remind you to close your sleepless eyes,
and listen to your evergreen heart.
Fear not the unknown that veils your vibrancy;
there’s a song that lingers amidst tuneless skies,
with every note inscribed with your dulcet name,
for I pray for you in sanguine silence…
You will always be the lyrical light
guiding me to the reveries of redolent lilies.
You are the poetic reason,
I breathe phrases of hope,
when the orchid moon melts into orchards of nothingness…
Love always and evermore,
mother….
Pacific beauty, garland of shimmering pastels
Textures and colors astound, deep in your ocean heart
Your court is larger than any kingdom on Earth
And hosts grand balls and parties,
Shimmering schools of fish dance in unison
Anemones gather by the thousands
Each more vibrant than the next
Grand plumes of algae sway like great banners
In the streets of your endless coral cities,
Lost happily in orange towers
All fathoms deep, cradled by warm currents
Erupting and tumbling and breathing,
The jealous coast watches, the winds bow down
Salt and scales glitter like stars in your sky
Oh magnificent belle of Queensland!
All Hail The Great Barrier Reef!
For PD's "7 wonders of the ancient or new world" contest