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Best Rhyme Poems

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Singing for the King by McGrath, Brenda
There's Something about Nothing by Curtis, Jerry T
Ana Saved Me by Kae, Kre8tive
Tenant With Two Faces by Morrissey, William
Reilly Rellic Anders by Zavaletta, Michael
Lilacs by bauer, ilene
EVEN THE ANGELS WEPT TEARS by Devnath, BL
if the shoe fits by one, last
ALL YOU AN EAT by Arribas, John
Earth's Thin Blue ribbon by Lane, Lin

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Details | Rhyme Poem | |

Cinder Girl

An ember sparked will softly glow,
and fed by fuel, will grow and grow.
I once was cinder, sparked by you,
first timid. . . till the flames then grew.

And so our start was touch of dawn,
with amber hue, for I was drawn
to eyes so welcoming and warm
I never guessed you’d do me harm.

Like morning glory, love in June
the rapture of mid-afternoon,
romance of which the ancients wrote,
our passion had no antidote.

And with the dusk, though scarlet tinged,
our love began to come unhinged,
for clouds arrived, which filled your eyes,
extinguishing bright twilight skies.

With cold of night came shadows’ pall,
and I could not tear down your wall.
By midnight’s hour, the fire was dead.
Mere ashes smoldered in its stead.

You left, and should you reappear,
I’ve vowed to shun you.  Now I fear
the very thing for which I yearn -
one touch. . . and then again - to burn.

Written by Andrea Dietrich 
Published 2007 in "Dancing the Unicorn: Lyrical Blooms 2"

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

A Tale of Fire and Ice

Part I: Ice

He shines like silver midnight moon -
cool marble statue, this tycoon.
And though he makes the ladies swoon,
of ice he’s hewn.; of ice he’s hewn.

He’s poker-faced and can deceive
competitors and can achieve
most anything, but can’t conceive
of Genevieve, of Genevieve.

Like Neptune, distant from the sun -
relationships he chose to shun.
He thought the search for love was done.
He has no one; he has no one.

Now love’s allure has come his way.
What will he do? What will he say?
Will he grab hold, beg love to stay,
or let it stray? Or let it stray?

Part II: Fire

This dragoness disguised in lace -
passion’s flower with angel’s face,
precisely picks the time and place
each dream to chase, each dream to chase.

Like ink the color red, she stains
the hearts of those whose love she drains,
and then she leaves when naught remains
No lust she feigns; no lust she feigns.

And now there’s one who would suffice.
For him alone, she’d sacrifice
her everything, so he of ice
she must entice, she must entice.

So Genevieve now strikes the flame.
Will man of ice his love proclaim?
Beneath her fire and his cold frame,
they’re both the same. They’re both the same.

By Andrea Dietrich 

For Carol Brown's FIRE And ICE Poetry Contest
and now for PD's Best Love poem 3 Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

Disposable Wisdom

Each day Annie Lesley opened a can
Her eighty-six-year-old hands trembling
As she sat with her cat and ate pet food
What is wrong with this elder’s rendering?

Pride swallowed to remain independent
Large, sunken eyes peered from her weathered face
Her late spouse a decorated hero
Annie’s lifestyle a national disgrace

More enlightened cultures all over the world
Have revered their seniors throughout history
Asians and Native Americans
Are just two who honor their ancestry

Polynesians, other Pacific tribes
Respect the wisdom that comes with age
Seniors are welcome in family homes
But here in the states they’re placed in a cage

Bone-thin Annie Lesley chose to be free
Amazing neighbors with her endurance
When social services tried to intervene
She fought with remarkable resilience

Old photos on walls told many great tales
But only purring Tibby was listening
Each morning she rose to care for her cat
Until the day that Tibby went missing

In tears she claimed he must have been poisoned
Though in cat years he was older than she
Each day she sat by the window, staring
Awaiting the homecoming of Tibby

She’d been abandoned by society
Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation
For sacrificing her spouse in World War II	
Annie received little compensation

This widowed war bride never had children
Her mate had met his fate in Normandy
Posthumous awards she dusted each day
Annie’s life was defined by loyalty

To a man and a cat who never came home
And the vigil she kept all alone
Ended quietly one warm summer night
When an angel came to take Annie home

With a can of cat food in hand when found
Annie had nothing else to eat in her house
This is the way a veteran’s wife died
And tear stains had blemished her faded blouse

Although seniors’ wisdom is heeded
In societies that grow from history
Too many like Annie lead lonely lives
Wisdom untapped, they die in poverty

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

The Poet Who Never Was

I thought I was a poet who had a pen of gold
With clear access to writing that was mature and bold.
I thought I could go roaming beside the foaming sea
And watch the seagulls gliding to give a show for free.

I thought I was a poet who walked along the beach
In awe I stood and wondered, my hand stretched out to reach
The silver thread dividing the water from the sky
And traced Selena’s features as slowly she went by. 

I thought I was a poet who knew what joy could be
On hearing water roaring cascading down with glee.
I looked for inspiration, experienced utmost thrill
When climbing down the valley or up the verdant hill.

I thought I was a poet in charge of heat and cold
But lost my true emotions when I was duped and told
I had to reach perfection to please my heart and mind
By means of imitation. My soul I left behind.

I thought I was a poet who had a pen of gold
But now all of a sudden I’m weary, frail and old.
I thought I was a poet. My pen is of no use.
With teary eyes I whisper to my dejected muse. 


-------------------------------------------------------------
Contest: Any Poem #36
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placed 1st ~ 13th March 2016

Contest: Million Dollar Poem
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placed 1st  ~  13th June 2015
Chosen Poem of the day ~ 8th May 2015

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

Love Passing By

When the crimson rose has faded
And our day at last is done;
In the forest dark and shaded
Blows the tempest, dims the sun.
When the night holds us together
Shall forgiveness mend the past
Will despair bring sunny weather 
And heal our hearts at last?

If we hide within the shadows
Will you stay here close to me;
Will we walk forgotten meadows
Or sail a foreign sea?
In vain the hour must reap
What we gathered in the sun;
And love's harvest now will weep
For the battle never won.

Within the world's disgrace
In the hour of Nevermore;
Will there be another race
To a far-off fabled shore?
We promised love tomorrow
We preen with pride today
Now pride and love will borrow
The tears of yesterday.

Our pride we now confess it
Is a sin that couldn't last;
Our passion if we kiss it
Is like a dream now passed.
While fragrance scents the garden
And the misty moon rides high;
The wind whispers a pardon
When love goes passing by.



Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

Hidden Beauty

Hidden beauty resides not in the grace like charms
Of coy smiles 
Painted across a gentle Madonnas face.
Nor is she vested within the chastened vows
Of saintly knights; encased Great-Helm:
Thus maketh the pale maidens meek pulse
To so fervently race!

She neither dwells in fair Michelangelos alabaster statues,
Or famed masterpieces hung upon hushed galleries
Hallowed walls.
Never does she proudly boast from-on-high
In lofty ivory towers,
Or brazenly shout across yawning grandiose marble halls!

For she will not be found in royal palaces,
Or sprawling estates of greatly lauded piles;
She is not to be found in ancient cathedrals -
Or exalted from their most sacred holy aisles!

She will not be found in hidden empires in brave new worlds
Frontiered by far flung foam washed shores;
Nor found prowling echoing dusty bank vaults -
If all the worlds bankers
Were to throw open all of their bolted cold steel doors!

For hidden beauty knows all the crafts and wisdoms
Of learned mens most subtle and tricky arts:
And cares not a jot, or gives a damn,
For all the poets and their foolish sentimental hearts!

                            But.....

Perhaps she shyly glowers inside a sun struck morn -
Her stealing lips simmering upon the dew kissed dawn;

Perhaps she wantonly flirts alongside a babbling brook -
Where sweet Virgil, Her, for a Muse mistook;

Perhaps she frequents the flowery paths of verdant pasture -
With all their lush, vibrant, unassuming rapture;

Perhaps you may find her in the dappled shades -
In and amongst the streaming glades;

Perhaps she traipses idly through heavens lights -
Of beached harvest moons and star tilted nights.

                            Or.....

Perhaps she briefly flickers across sizzling lightening strikes -
Accompanying thunderous cannonades of symphonic rolling might;

Perhaps she sometimes ignites the drifting tallgrass plains -
Glistening within fleeting rainbows blazing an arc over sparkling rains;

Perhaps she is in the gulf filled roar of stormy headlands -
Whose pounding seas smash and grind the sheering cliffs to sands;

Perhaps she burns across diamond ice in glacial mountains high -
Where frozen snows reach sharply upwards to rip open the azured sky;

Perhaps she slumbers in impenetrable greening forests deep -
Lain down with the hunted grey wolf...safe at last in contented sleep!

                            For.....

I am the glint rippling upon the gleam -
The tumbling cryptic flashing only partly seen;

I am the eternal flame that crackles in the grate -
The enigmatic, indecipherable, most profound innate;

I am the paradox within the intrigue -
That does so contrive but does not deceive;

I am the quantum within the curled up string -
The grain of truth from which all half-truths spring.

I am all these indefinable moments and much, much more...
which all of your befuddled senses are resigned to grapple with - 
Whereupon to set such store!

                            So.....

Content yourself and make not the mistake
To assuredly set me aside to thus debate.
For i am beyond the conjectures of a mere mortal mind,
As by accidental-consequential reaction...i cannot be denied!

                            For "Hidden Beauty".....

Once freed from Pandoras box upon this spinning coil:
To fire and play upon your enchanted thoughts - and forever foil!!









Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2015


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

Forgotten Heroes of the Somme

Over the top lads, for old Blighty! Hold the colours high!
Say a little prayer for me, for this summer day we die.
My brothers from the ripened field and blackened mill, shop floor, 
Your brother in a killing field to fight a rich man’s war.

In bloodied mud and shattered wood, fight legions of the brave,
Unwitting youth, you’ll do your duty until you’re in the grave.
A sergeant greets a fresh-faced boy, “welcome to the slaughter!”
Here you die from three diseases, bullet, gas or mortar.

In arms we fight together and in leaden hails we pass,
We die amongst the filth and stench that once was verdant grass.
“In the morning we will remember them” we hear the leaders call,
Those fickle words of history, will not remember us all.

Copyright © Howard Bull | Year Posted 2009


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

A Near Death Experience of A Sweetheart

 
"A Near-Death Experience of A Sweetheart" Floating through a corridor between two different Worlds among white fluffy clouds and shimmering stars awhile wind unfurls racing into darkness: destination to death's door living in a heavenly kingdom ... forevermore ... Traveling through deep tunnel as cold fingers touch walls of blackened essence creating thoughts to clutch quickly toward a bright white light of peace my soul and spirit being experienced soft release ... Rushing to a Paradise, landing on streets of gold seeing the Face of God so clearly to behold longing to embrace my dear departed family loved ones who had gone before to their final destiny ... Their captivating smiles excited my soul sharing love once more as was in their earthly roll but a huge white Angel stood between my track he spoke mentally "child of God you must go back. And yet, I was not sad but happy to have seen my precious treasured relatives cuddled by Supreme Being why? I questioned must I return to Planet Earth? Angel responed not your time to stay your purpose unfulfilled for God to cherish every day ... Suddenly transported through the tunnel smelling flowers a jorney taking minutes but feeling like hours and soon the sights and sounds ignited quiet hospital room while my loved ones endured possibility of doom ... My husband was squeezing my hand so tight I felt his love as my children sobbed so loud praying to above my eyes opened wide as I inhaled a breath escaping to my body while I avoided Death ... This near-death experience was an inspiration for another realm exists in utter fascination for now the message lives to enjoy both love and life have no fear for death is harmless and erases strife ... Hover close to God and always give Him thankxxx through trials and tribulations He relieves all angst Treasure every moment and anticipate the end a beutiful place is waiting reuniting family and friends ... Kisses and hugs replaced those solitary tears knowing what lies ahead extinguishes all fears please celebrate the gift of life in grateful attitude Eternity is awesome with unending interlude ...

Copyright © Linda-Marie SweetHeart | Year Posted 2013


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

TOUCH

"TOUCH" I want to touch your life and leave a mark ... ... a deep impression ... So you will think of me and of my smile ... ... my sweet expression ... I long to touch your life and leave a sign ... ... a warm inscription ... So you will care for me and keep in mind ... ... a clear description ... I need to touch your life and leave a joy ..,. ... an inspiration ... So you will love me soon in reality ... ... not imagination ...
*For S.K.A.T.'s give it to me straight contest ...

Copyright © Linda-Marie SweetHeart | Year Posted 2012


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

Night Comes

Softly and sadly
Up on the knoll;
The vesper bell
Begins to toll.

Lock all the doors
Blow out the light;
The hour is late
Sleep comes with the night.

Close all the windows
Smother the fire;
Sound slips into silence
When mortals retire.

Downstairs is deserted
No one in the hall
Nirvana of sleep
Rules over all.

A day's work completed
Now done like the day;
Rest is now needed
For those made of clay.

How soft is the night
Where dark shadows fall;
The seduction of sleep
Captures us all.

Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

Broken Wings

Death followed her, like an unwelcome guide Grim Reaper stalking, forced her shadow to hide Angel of death took her sister, but let her survive how could a child understand death and being alive Other siblings distracted the suffering and pain brought sunshine on dark days with heavy rain A caterpillar seeking a cocoon to shelter from burning as something was missing with her constantly yearning With fragile wings the butterfly gradually learnt to fly when falling in love, her beloved made her feel so high The Grim Reaper returned and took her parents away heartbroken she wondered how long the pain would stay Malevolently death returned like a bitter enemy mercilessly snatched her babies without integrity Not content, Grim Reaper returned without warning abducted her beloved - tears never stopped falling Tormented emotions, everyday was full of anguish terrorized by dark demons - continuing to languish Losing loved ones and falling into depression deeper Sensitive and fragile, she beckoned the Grim reaper Preparing to die - surviving was no longer the intention as the Grim Reaper approached - there was an intervention An ethereal light appeared - touched her heart with hope Death hid like a coward, afraid of the light, could not cope Wings broken, but still in tact - butterfly began to write expressing her emotions, suppressing them with delight Angel of death would return one day, that was for sure but, producing beautiful poetry was temporarily her cure 26 December 2015 Deep and dark contest by Broken Wings

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

GREEN- reborn

GREEN, GREEN, GREEN!!!

My name is Jade Shamrock Green.
I will not eat one single green bean.
When I get mad, I turn green.
I wear my favorite green jeans.
I am hypnotize by the color green.
Not every green path leads to a flowing stream.
I lay on the grass so green.
I won a jackpot of green.
To visit the Green Mountains in Vermont is like a dream.
My eyes are shaded green.
My jealousy comes in the color green.
I diet on green veggies that are lean.
The Green Bay Packers are my favorite team.
I believe all frogs should come in green.
It’s a family gift to carry a green thumb gene.
My garden has the greenest life I have ever seen.
Lemons are yellow, but limes are green.
The Irish do not all believe in green.
In my greenhouse all, the plants are full of good self-esteem.
I'm the jester who wore a green beret for the king and queen.
The unripe sour apple is moldy green!
Flicking me a green bugger is gross and mean.
Why do all leprechauns wear color green? 
Not all clovers have only three leafs of green.
Green is the middle color of the rainbow team.
Good Luck, Care Bear's charming eyes are emerald green.
My favorite color has always been green.
This is all about wearing green on March the seventeen.



.         (a) S.K.A.T. POETRY (re-post) by;p.d.
.                 3-17-10  (update) 3-17-11

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2011


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

Uncharted Waters


An ocean tumbles through dreams of you. In depths unknown, I float above. Oh, how I long to dive beneath your surface, yet I am timid in matters of love. If brave, I’d have shown you the whole of my gushing heart, no less than tides of bliss. Seeking depths unknown, I long to dive beneath your surface. Searching your eyes, I want for treasures lost on the ocean’s floor. The sun, like a gold coin, drops, splashing this face of regret. I blush in secret thoughts of you and turn away from the endless shore. A swoop from seagulls catches the light of your smile and breaks the hush of late sky. Turning away from the endless shore of regret, I blush. My lonely shore may flood, a wish to bathe in the caress of you granted. I shall break from fear, to brave a rolling river between us. Down current, I’ll swim until I reach your ocean of sparkling blues. I would drown in the waves of your uncharted waters. Glorious would be death in the caress of you, your uncharted waters…glorious. Written, 1/18/2015, for Craig Cornish's Manassian Quintain Contest,

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

Sailing the Seas In A Pecan Tree

The wind billows out from the seat of his britches
With determined eyes, skinned knuckles and knees
He climbs up the rails nailed from old cedar pieces
To the uppermost yoke of the old pecan tree

He is Captain on board, in pretend salty breezes
From his perch in the bird's nest, the world in his view
A small town boy, who has never seen oceans
In the happiest place, where a boy's dreams come true

While the cornstalks stand duty, wavy pumpkin vine waters
He breaks off a branch and a sword fight ensues..
He says "Tally Ho...Land Ahoy!!" to his crew
Dogs are barking below, and he shouts out a warning
There are sharks all around, so his shipmates must heed

He is Master Commander, the ruler of nations
He dreams of adventure from his loft in the tree
As he watches the clouds sail across a blue sea
Till his mother calls him in, for his suppertime leave
          
                              ~
               Well, little boys grow, and a childhood will fade
               The leaf of the pecan, no longer holds shade 
               Now a stump of the tree, is all that is left
               Yet the memory still thrives, so deep in his breast

               When the weight of the world comes tumbling down
               He visits this place with the stump in the ground
               The rings wrap around him, to take him aboard
               To the place of his childhood, a place he adored
               
               Tonight he will sleep in a bed of contentment
               In his bunk he will dream of his loft in the tree
               Tomorrow he'll climb up the steps to his vessel
               Tomorrow he'll be where the eagles fly free....







...........................................................................................................


-

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

Island Spirit

Palm trees are swaying island style
Within the gentle trade wind's flow,
As Egrets glide on salty air—
Then land where verdant grasses grow.

Breathe in sweet scents of tuberose
And let fine mist caress your face,
Dive deep into aqua waters—
Become enchanted with this place.

Let your eyes consume the beauty,
Let rhythmic music soothe your mind.
You'll feel the aloha spirit—
A kinder people you won't find.

Go hiking in hillside forests,
There are no bears or snakes that hide,
Just waterfalls you'll find waiting,
That flow toward the ocean side.

In the distance whales are breaching,
Humpbacks with little calves in tow.
They share waters with the dolphins,
And green sea turtles down below.

Can you hear paradise calling?
Whispering your name at sunrise,
To later bask on pearly sands.
Swaying hula hips at moonrise,

Coaxing you to join in the dance.
Exotic Mai Tai in your hands,
Sweet flower leis caress your neck,
Come investigate our islands,

And board on wild waves at surfside,
Cast your cold and cares to the breeze.
Sailing out on sunset cruises—
Take homeward bound warm memories.

© Connie Marcum Wong

To all my poetry friends suffering in the cold states. Come take a mini vacation
from the freezing temperatures. Aloha--

Poem of the Day at Poetry Soup January 17, 2015 


 Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/member_area/submit_poems.aspx


Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2015


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

THE BELLE OF THE BALL

My dress is made of fine peach coloured* lace Hair is in ringlets, which frames my pretty face The lights in the room cast a romantic glow My first ever ball; I must go with the flow The orchestra strikes up a wonderful tune Ladies and gentlemen glide round the room I stand on the sidelines I am oh so very shy Then a dashing young man catches my eye I smile at him, then I coyly avert my eyes I find him so handsome; that I cannot disguise He reaches tenderly for my awaiting hand We move to the dance floor; oh it is so grand His arm wrapped around my tiny waist We dance to the music, there is no haste So full of excitement at the hope of romance I float round the room at my very first dance At the end of the dance he bows down low My heart is aflutter I hope this does not show He leads me gently to the side of the room Sweet roses enchant us, we smell their perfume Time flies by so fast and we dance all night He looks in my green eyes and to my delight Whispers so gently those words I long to hear You simply are the belle of the ball my dear He reaches out gently and kisses my hand My first ever ball has been oh so grand Sadly now it is time for me to depart I bid adieu to the man who has stolen my heart 11~15~14 *English spelling used

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014


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Halloween's Mask of Comfort

In a house beside the forest lives a woman and her son

He is scarred by burns and fire – hidden kept from everyone

There is land where he can wander far away from prying eyes,

But he misses friends to play with; all alone he often cries.


That is why he gets excited at the thought of Halloween

He can mix with other children without fear of being seen.

Mother picks the perfect costume that will fit his height and size

Then she adds a mask for comfort – the completion of disguise.


The boy behind the mask wishes every day was Halloween

He'd gladly offer friendship to any child who wasn't mean

But he knows that one day he will be too old for trick or treat

And he prays each morn to see the sunshine on a public street

 
Even though he realizes his wish may never be fulfilled

For he'd have to learn to avoid stares and let confidence build

After reading the sad tale of Frankenstein, he sheds a tear

As he can relate to Frankenstein and sees him as a peer

 
And so he keeps reading stories of people judged by their looks

His greatest fear is what will happen when he runs out of books


------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is a collaboration between Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014


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Snow -a Sleep

Snow - a sleep descending on the twilight streets; Snow, in silent fields you lie pristine beneath moon’s glow, a blanket shimmering. Oblivion serene! Tranquilly envelop me in Sleep - a snow; the more you fall, the deeper that I go under. Oh, sweet Slumber, suffocate with pearly flakes those of us the weary that repose, long time having waited like the windrows. As Boreas does blow, lull and bury all in drifting, dreamy snow. July 11, 2015

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015


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Best Friend Defined

What's a best friend,
But the smell before rain?
The hand that we give,
When a friend is in pain

It's the things that we do,
The words that we say
That pulls a friend through,
When their heart's torn away

It's the steps that we take,
The songs that we sing
It's the choices we make,
And the hope that we bring

I'm here through the tears,
I'm here through the laughter,
I'll always be here
Until death, and after

It's the things we give up;
The things we give in
When our heart's full of love,
And selfless begins

It's the hearts that we touch,
The things that we won't
We never give up,
We could, but we don't

It's the people we save,
With the hands that we give
When we're lost, we still say,
You're my reason to live

I'm here through the tears,
I'm here through the laughter
I'll always be here,
Until death, and after

Copyright © Dana Smith | Year Posted 2010


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

Cry of the City


We will walk then, you and I

When daylight shuts her weary eye;

Down the streets where beggars sleep

And drug crazed addicts spend their keep.

On streets that wind through thick and thin

Past monuments of broken sin

The painted whores who smile a lot

A rejected child that time forgot.

 

The evening hymn that sorrows sing

The call to prayer that church bells ring;

The sounds and smells that rape a city

The calls for help that won't find pity.

Do we have time to heal the curse

That captures all the universe

Or would it really be worthwhile

To quell the question with a smile?

 

But we have walked these streets before

And hoped our ears could dim the roar

Of silence gripping cold nightmares

That come unbidden up the stairs.

We share the night with lesser fools

Who stake their plight without sound rules

For each new challenge finds old pain

That lives to give then comes again.

Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

The Angel Inside

Coral life forms in copious swarms
feast in the Cambrian chyme,
dividing their cells and forming their shells
to end on the seafloor as lime.
Tectonic churning and magma upturning
renders marble whiter than bone.
The marble is mined, but the cutters are blind
to the angel confined in the stone.

A young sculptor arose, with a bend in his nose
and a transcendent creative spark,
charged with ambition to fulfill a commission,
an angel for St. Dominic's Ark.
An artist sublime who will live for all time,
his genius is to see things not shown.
For an angel to achieve he first has to perceive
its splendor enclosed in the stone.

At dawning's first glow he surveys the tableau
of the blocks the stone cutters supplied.
In some he sees dreams of potential themes,
but only one holds an angel inside.
“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain 
as does failing to hear it and see it.”
The block that he chose was rejected by those
who then lied and claimed to foresee it.
 
With talent and skill he falls to with a will,
surrounded by rubble and relic.
His method you see, for the angel to free
is to remove all the bits not angelic.
Michelangelo’s art for all time stands apart
but there's something further to heed.
For there's a bit more to the fine metaphor
in the tale of the angel he freed.

“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain 
as does failing to hear it and see it.”
For in all our insides a bright angel abides
and is just waiting for something to free it:
to remove all the parts which harden our hearts,
to chip out the darkness and pride,
to smooth the rough patches, to polish the scratches
and unshackle the angel inside.

© January 26, 2013

Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2013


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

Beyond Forever-cowritten w-Maurice Yvonne

The night sky awakens from a long days slumber 
peers with its eyes down upon us large in number. 
The moon is like an orchestra full with every instrument playing. 
A falling star sings "Candle In the Wind" on its descent swaying 
like a faintly whispered lullaby of Columba drawing me in. 
Our  lips lock in a singular motion, surrenders, skin on skin. 

Our love is stellar, the magnificence of a galaxy, a flood 
of blessed light pure, entangles us in each others blood. 
I find solace in your touch, but how it leaves me faint 
still, brave like Orion I engage you without restraint. 
Naked, raw in the aura of the midnight's luster 
we undulate to the rhythm of stars in a cluster. 

Marvel the milky way, its multitudes of constellations. 
Roll in the heavens with its infinitudes of sensations. 
The exhilaration of zero gravity our movements free 
we explore the vast regions of this cosmic black sea. 
Together we surf an evening of carnal pleasures  
in these moments discover all the worlds treasures.

Falling into the freedom, with stardust in our hair,
A feeling so intense, that no education could prepare.
With every stroke of the skies nightly portrait of perfection, 
Inspirational kisses, under the microscope, intricate inspection. 
This power of passion caressing ever second of our being,
In your eyes it is beyond forever that I am seeing.

Written in the stars, the midnight sky writes our history,
Embrace the power of perfection, we are covered in mystery.


11-24-2014
Maurice Yvonne
Casarah Nance

Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2014


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

Belongings

Shadowed in the silent room, the daylight's nearly gone
Dusk climbs in through window glass, with one last ray of sun
I start the task, climb on a chair, reach up to shelves so high
to mother's boxes neatly stacked, and dust gets in my eyes

I take one down, to look inside and sit upon a chair
I find some musty linens, laces needing some repair
Discovering old photographs, the year was '42
Her face was smooth as porcelain, unblemished, young and new

Old documents and letters, a history unveiled
Her letters, torn and yellowed, such stories they would tell
The next box held small china cups, so lovingly embellished
And then I found a book of verse, inscribed with poems she relished

Some dresses stained and wrinkled, their fabric thin and tattered
Were once a thing of beauty, as if they really mattered
Her jewelry, gold and silver, some lovely rings and brooches
A warm sensation circles me, her presence now approaches

I sense a change come over me, and fleeting leave of gloom
The darkness of the evening lifts, as sunlight fills the room
She wraps her warmth around me, her fragrance in the air
My loneliness is free to go, I know that she is there

Among these things, I find the last, the smallest box of all
Inside it are the baby clothes, I wore when I was small
A letter there to tell me that she knows the tears I've cried
Her words of love that never died, they fill me up inside

These treasures speak her words to me, and now that I am grown
She wants to tell her story, those parts I've never known
I've heard her voice, while sitting here, among her china flowers
I"ve found such peace, she's next to me, to spend these quiet hours


____________________________________________________________

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2008


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

-Unlatched-

_______________________

So young, I was, and so naive There was no doubt, I did believe This babe who's latched inside my womb The ties we had would always be Latched on was he, as he was fed Then later days, our hands instead Not tall enough to open gates I would reach the latch for his escape In time he grew to need more space The cord we had, still had it's place The loving ties from birth, so long Were gently stretching.., moving on, Yet still remaining full and strong In time he grew, to be a man Our bond had changed, but still lives on He fell in love, as it should be He latched on with her, I'm glad to see It didn't mean our own was gone Songs are sung when lovers part But no song for a mother's heart When new adventures come one day And new roads take him far away The man he is, has been set free To be the man he wants to be The child he was is never gone She's letting go, yet holding on If once, one wish, were mine to choose So many would my thoughts pursue But one within my heart still yearns For just one day, the clocks would turn Together you and I would be Sitting there among the trees I would lift you up upon my knee Just like we did when you were three…
___________________________________________________________________ For Francine's Contest: Children In Rhyme

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011


Details | Rhyme Poem | |

A Place

I have seen fair lady April
Dance with daffodils;
I have seen the misty dawn
Light moors and windy hills.
Painted in dark shadows
Of a sunlit afternoon
I have smelled the heady scent
Where blue hyacinths commune.

I have heard the curlew's call
As she sailed the wild dark sea;
And seen the sailor guide his ship
In the dream that used to be.
I have known precious moments
In the echoes of a song;
But I never knew the comfort of
A place where I belong.

Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012