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Details | Pantoum Poem | |

Changing Sky

Come, watch with me my darling child, before you go to bed
Here, hold my hand, while evening comes and takes the day away
Evening shadows tiptoe to what the sun has said
And now it's time to listen,  to what the moon will say

Here, hold my hand, while evening comes and takes the day away
We'll watch the sun dip gently,  in the cooling twilight air
And now it's time to listen,  to what the moon will say
All the daytime weary creatures, have gone to nest and lair

We'll watch the sun dip gently in the cooling twilight air
Let's be witness to the fire that burns in evening's sky
All the daytime weary creatures, have gone to nest and lair
While twilight paints it's crimson colors on a canvas vast and wide 

Let's be witness to the fire that burns in evening's sky
Time suspends as if one moment, in this fragile hush of time
While twilight paints it's crimson colors on a canvas vast and wide 
And then we'll see the faintest trace of stars begin to climb

Time suspends as if one moment, in this fragile hush of time
So gently, watch the dark erase the last of fading light
And then we'll see the faintest trace of stars begin to climb
Enclosing us within the change,  of shadows of the night

So gently, watch the dark erase the last of fading light
Evening shadows tiptoe to what the sun has said
Enclosing us within the change,  of shadows of the night

Come, watch with me my darling child, before you go to bed...


____________
6//26/13

Details | 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

Details | Pantoum Poem | |

White Cane

He walked down Goverment Road West
With a white cane, in shaking hand
Wearing Stevie wonder glasses
People called him the pop bottle man

With a white cane, in shaking hand
At the time he seemed old to me
People called him the pop bottle man
Searching the alleys for his treasures

At the time he seemed old to me
Frail in a menacing sorta way
Searching the alleys for his treasures
Bottles he spotted a mile away

Frail in a menacing sorta way
Us kids all stayed away from him
Bottles he spotted a mile away
I wondered why he carried a white cane

Us kids all stayed away from him
Until that day I took a chance
I wondered why he carried a white cane
Curiosity got the best of me

Until that day I took a chance
That man had been a mystery
Curiosity got the best of me
When I asked him why he smiled at me

That man had been a mystery
A lonely guy wandering the street
When I asked him why, he smiled at me
I handed him my bottle, he said thanks

A lonely guy wandering the street
Wearing Stevie wonder glasses
I handed him my bottle, he said thanks
He walked down Goverment Road West

I watch

Pop Bottle Man
Doing his blind man shuffle
When he sees a bottle 
he moves towards it with ease
Dancing with glee 
a spring in his step
More fluid than a summer breeze

He can see at twenty paces
Eyesight crystal clear
Through dark glasses 
I watch him peer
Collecting his bottles
In plastic bags
The treasure that he holds so dear

Pop Bottle Man
His cane for protection
Illusion is the game he plays
What some see as crazy
May not be the case
If you take time to study his ways

For Gautami's Sketch a  Character Contest.

I was inspired to write more after the Pantoum because of Drakes Comment.
written by Richard Lamoureux on October 23, 2014.




Details | Pantoum Poem | |

Around the Corner

Is something wonderful in store for me? I feel it near and almost hear the pulse of it! What’s around the corner? What can it be? So far, a butterfly, it only wants to flit. I feel it near and almost hear the pulse of it. It has to be so beautiful. It can’t be bad! So far, a butterfly, it only wants to flit! I race with time to find out something glad. It has to be so beautiful! It can’t be bad. . . Like Tony and Maria in the West Side Story, I race with time to find out something glad - to sparkle like a star that finds its glory! Like Tony and Maria in the West Side Story, I sing, “Tonight won’t be just any night.” To sparkle like a star that finds its glory! Surely round the corner cannot be plight! I sing, “Tonight won’t be just any night!” Aflutter with anticipation, I’ve found hope. Surely round the corner cannot be plight. Is destiny my friend, or am I just a dope? Aflutter with anticipation, I’ve found hope. What’s around the corner? What can it be? Is destiny my friend? Or am I just a dope? Is something wonderful in store for me? Written 10/16/14 for the Contest of Francine Roberts

Details | 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

Details | 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 tainted with a crimson war paint, oh so cruel.

In history books, before he left from school -
the tales retold, of victories that we’d won,
were tainted with a crimson war paint, oh so cruel -
the flow of paint was not to staunch when once begun.

From tales retold, of victories that we’d won,
he learned to fight for god and country glory, though
the flow of pain, ’twas not 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 masked like 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 masked 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...


Details | Pantoum Poem | |

Wayward Child

Ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide
grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passions now abide
for you have left me, long ago, I'm 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, I'm now 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 conceive 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 conceive 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,
ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide.




Details | 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

Details | Pantoum Poem | |

Heavenly Kiss

You flew to me from beyond the clouds
Sent to soothe my troubled heart
I felt the warmth of your kiss on my forehead 
In that moment my sadness blew away

Sent to soothe my troubled heart
You looked deep within my very soul
In that moment my sadness blew away
With your help I escaped the gray

You looked deep within my very soul
A breath of light into the darkness
With your help I escaped the gray
Your angel eyes looked into mine

A breath of light into the darkness
So much comfort yet no words spoken
Your angel eyes looked into mine
For me a glimpse of heaven's glory

So much comfort yet no words spoken
I felt the warmth of your kiss on my forehead
For me a glimpse of heaven's glory
You flew to me from beyond the clouds

Details | Pantoum Poem | |

Slave

She wrapped herself in a beautiful lie
Bound so tight she was unable to fly
Slave to some pictues in a magazine
The essence of her could barely be seen

Bound so tight she was unable to fly
Choices she had made but didn't know why
The essence of her could barely be seen
The face of a woman who's only a teen

Choices she had made but didn't know why
Taking her love from a much older guy
The face of a woman who's only a teen
Absorbing sad from the places she's been

Taking her love from a much older guy
Minutes became years as her youth went by
Absorbing sad from the places she's been
Wanted happy but became sad and mean

Minutes became years as her youth went by
Life of desperation and getting high
Wanted happy but became sad and mean
Pain began early when she was fourteen

Life of desperation and getting high
She wrapped herself in a beautiful lie
Pain began early when she was fourteen
Slave to some pictures in a magazine




Details | 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

Details | 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 ========================000======================== Placement:5th ;(January 2012) Contest:City Lights Sponsor:Debi Guzzie

Details | Pantoum Poem | |

Leather Jacket

Leather jacket draped over her shoulders
My feeble attempt at gallantry
Protecting sweet maiden from the cold
A small smile spreads over her face

My feeble attempt at gallantry
Still I longed for the rain to reveal her breasts
A small smile spreads over her face
The rain would have soaked her blouse

Still I longed for the rain to reveal her breasts
The fabric clinging to those lovely curves
The rain would have soaked her blouse
We ran together my hand around her waist

The fabric clinging to those lovely curves
I could feel her softness my heart pounding
We ran together my hand around her waist
Coming to rest under an old oak tree

I could feel her softness my heart pounding
She allowed my hands to explore
Coming to rest under an old oak tree
Lips joined as my jacket fell to the ground

She allowed my hands to explore
My feeble attempt at Gallantry
Created the moment that brought me here
A small smile spreads over her face


I broke the Pantoum form with the very last line but
I prefer it this way. Besides, my hands were already engaged.

Leather Jacket on Shoulders Contest
 

Details | Pantoum Poem | |

The Fairest of All the Roses

The fairest of all the roses in the walled garden’s afternoon hush, this blossom delicately poses, making the other blooms blush, In the walled garden’s afternoon hush, while standing enticingly making the other blooms blush, is a beauty gazing at me. While standing enticingly, with her soft upswept auburn hair, is a beauty gazing at me. She answers this lonely man’s prayer! With soft upswept auburn hair; in her long flowing gown of white, she answers this lonely man’s prayer, making the garden grow bright. In her long flowing gown of white, this blossom delicately poses, making the garden grow bright - the fairest of all the roses! For the George Dunlop Leslie Poetry Contest of Isaiah Zerbst
The Picture is called "In Walled Garden" See at this link: http://www.ebay.com/itm/GEORGE-DUNLOP-LESLIE-In-Walled-Garden-print-NEW-/190409030838

Details | Pantoum Poem | |

Hands of light

She lets him lift her with hands of light
Discarding tattered robes of darkness
Warmth penetrating her broken heart
Some promises really do come true

Discarding tattered robes of darkness
Why is it such a hard thing to do?
Some promises really do come true
We need to look well beyond ourselves

Why is it such a hard thing to do?
Strange comfort comes from the pain we hold
We need to look well beyond ourselves
Listen for the sound of a gentle knock

Strange comfort comes from the pain we hold
Suitcases that are too heavy to hold
Listen for the sound of a gentle knock
He promises to take them away

Suitcases that are too heavy to hold
Warmth penetrating her broken heart
He promises to take them away
She lets him lift her with hands of light

Details | Pantoum Poem | |

A Songbird's ode to Autumns gone

 As winter's gloom  descends upon  the trees
Autumn slumbers  'neath the fallen leaves
Spring's distant dream is yet to be perceived
As trees  weep in the cold silence of  their grief

Autumn slumbers  'neath the fallen leaves
As a lone bird sings a melancholy song
The trees weep in the cold silence of  their grief
To a songbird's ode to autumns gone

As a lone bird sings a melancholy song
A sad song within my heart is born
As  I hear the songbird's ode to autumns gone
That echoes in the twilight until  morn

A sad song within my heart is born
As winter's frost  through the forest  spawns
The songbird's ode to autumn echoes until morn
Before it takes its envied flight to warmer dawns

As winter's frost through the forest spawns
Spring's distant dream is yet to be perceived
Then the songbird takes its envied flight to warmer dawns
As winter's gloom descends upon the trees 
                                      ~~
                                       

----------------------------------------------------



Details | Pantoum Poem | |

Canyons Cold and Dark

She dwells in deep canyons cold and dark
To ponder a mystery that haunts her soul
That leaves confusion and doubts in heart
The loss of confidence now takes its toll

To ponder a mystery that haunts her soul
That renders sleepless hours through the night
The loss of confidence now takes its toll
A flower slowly dying withers in sunlight

It renders sleepless hours through the night
The days are shortened and she wastes away
A flower slowly dying withers in sunlight 
Her sweet fragrance lost, forever and a day

The days are shortened and she wastes away
What could be this wrong which she has caused?
Her sweet fragrance lost, forever and a day
To fully grasp this puzzle she requires pause  

What could be this wrong which she has caused?
What pain has she laid upon your heart?
To fully grasp this puzzle she requires pause 
She dwells in deep canyons cold and dark
~*~

By:     Audrey Carey
Note:  For Paula Swanson's "Pantoum" Contest

Details | 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.

Details | Pantoum Poem | |

Wildflowers

Colored wildflowers form In fields of grassy green They don’t recall, the day they were born They only love to be seen. In fields of grassy green They claim their place in life They only love to be seen Though they are, scarred by strife. They claim their place in life They beautify the land Though they are, scarred by strife They’re placed by Gods’ own hand. They beautify the land Like colors on a palette They’re placed by Gods’ own hand They couldn’t grow without it. Like colors on a palette They blend well in a field They couldn’t grow without it At home there, they can feel. They blend well in a field Wildflowers that are born At home there, they can feel Colored wildflowers form.

Details | Pantoum Poem | |

The Golden Hour

Gorgeous boy, your skin shines in the sun’s golden hour.
Waves of your jet-black hair, short-cropped like Caesar's 
dripping tendrils on a chiseled brow, wisps beside each ear
A bare-chested Apollo cycles in low-slung shorts.

Waves of your jet-black hair, short-cropped like Caesar's, 
my ardeur imagines eyes a molten sapphire blue.
A bare-chested Apollo cycles in low-slung shorts,
calves taunt, thigh muscles pumping, a true stallion.

My ardeur imagines eyes a molten sapphire blue.
surely, the night sky is less beautiful than your eyes,
Legs with calves taunt, thigh muscles pumping, a stallion,
lovely man-child, whose dreams will you soon make true?

Surely, the night sky is less beautiful than your eyes.
Dripping tendrils on a chiseled brow, wisps beside each ear,
lovely man-child, whose dreams will you soon make true?
Gorgeous boy, your skin shines in the sun’s golden hour.


Details | Pantoum Poem | |

MY LOVE


My love you may call me day and night Because I think of you anyway, all day long I cannot live without you day or night And in this I don't see anything wrong Because I think of you anyway all day long You may want to call me any time you want And in this I don't see anything wrong Living without your love I can't You may want to call me any time you want Do it night and day all the time Living without your love I can't And into eternity we can sing and with love rhyme Do it night and day all the time I cannot live without you day or night And into eternity we can sing and with love rhyme My love you may call me day and night. Dorian Petersen Potter aka ladydp2000 copyright@2014 November,14,2014

Details | Pantoum Poem | |

A Secret


Tucked in a box of memories is a smile lost long, long, ago. Tattered by the harshest of winds left buried beneath the winter's snow; is a smile lost long, long, ago. A tear that never ever fell, Left buried beneath the winter's snow. A secret pain, she could not tell. A tear that never, ever, fell; tattered by the harshest of winds, a secret pain she could not tell, tucked in a box of memories. Held delicately in tissue like a soft touch from God’s own hand; the snapshot of mother and child. An unplanned memory returned like a soft touch from God's own hand. Time sweeps every thought away. An unplanned memory returned, newborn on winter's coldest day. Time sweeps every thought away - the snapshot of mother and child, newborn on winter's coldest day held delicately in tissue.

Details | 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) ********************************* By:kash poet Placement:1st; February 2013 Contest:Petals in The Wind Sponsor:Gail Doyle

Details | Pantoum Poem | |

Sunset

I remember the day your sun rose
Glowing along the horizon
A celebration in golden tones
How we all marveled

Glowing along the horizon
You held so much promise
How we all marveled
Collectively we held our breath

You held so much promise
As you ascended the morning sky
Collectively we held our breath
Yet for a time clouds blocked your light

As you ascended the morning sky
We bathed in the brightness of you
Yet for a time clouds blocked your light
Still we never doubted you were there

We bathed in the brightness of you
The highest point in our sky
Still we never doubted you were there
We celebrated your success

The highest point in our sky
Feeling your warmth on our skin
We celebrated your success
As you traveled accross our line of sight

Feeling your warmth on our skin
Cooling as you began your decent
As you traveled accross our line of sight
You our beautiful companion and friend

Cooling as you began your decent
Still we felt your warmth in our hearts
You our beautiful companion and friend
Your sunset glorious red and orange

Still we felt your warmth in our hearts
A celebration in golden tones
Your sunset glorious red and orange
I remember the day your sun rose 

For Sunset Contest
Written by Richard Lamoureux
August 7th, 2013


Details | 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