Dreamily, she whiled the empty hours
with her little dolls and her crayon box.
She drew lonely princesses in towers,
hummed to herself, pulled up her socks,
and sketched a field of colorful flowers.
The forlorn blooms lay flat beneath her gaze.
She wondered, would it be as she had feared -
this would be one of those sad, hollow days.
Then, on the page, the sun and breeze appeared,
as lovely blossoms came alive, ablaze.
Such throaty timbres – oboes and bassoons –
such gowns! My Lady, apricot and plum,
her sleeves ablaze with blue October moons –
for one short night, her villa had become
the very essence of elysium!
To “fortify” us, as My Lady said,
against the winter tedium to come,
to banish melancholy, drive out dread,
she threw an Autumn Ball. Delirium!
We met the equinox with pipe and drum.
The quality of Florence all attended,
and never were Their Graces better fed!
The sun was up before our revels ended –
and Isabella? Still no thought of bed!
Three further galliards she’d yet to tread.
It seems I hear those trumpets even yet,
and taste the sweetmeats of that epic spread
(she’d plied us with light moscatel to whet
the palate) – I believe my mortal head
will throb for ever more, autumnal red!
When, in darkness, there's but a single ray;
When, in cruelty, there's little kindness found;
Then in imagination could I stay;
A private realm, and in perfection crowned;
And I thought of dreams, in that certain way.
When, in darkness, there shines a brilliant ray;
When, in cruelty, there is a kindness found;
Not in imagination would I stay;
Let private thought with purpose then be crowned;
And I think of dreams, in that certain way.
less sun, more moon as night time grows
seasons change as all things must
where did time go? Heaven knows
the stars give signs, much to tell us
be still, as nature all around us flows
They quickly pass, the waning days more brief,
like love once shied beneath a garish moon,
expose the truths betrayed by Autumn's thief.
Infatuation always ends too soon ~
still tethered to the oak, a hopeful leaf...
for Andrea's "Half Past Summer" Contest
King Sol is stealing all my energy.
There’s no relief in sight, forecasters say.
Come, clouds, with brief relief; this is my plea.
While summer lovers bask in heat each day,
I’ll dream of fall and trust in my AC.
How could I ignore the dance of a leaf
Cascading with warm summer brushed in gold--
Lovers tasting the quiet of relief
A contentment lit amidst north-winds cold…
And autumn comes...its charm and flair too brief!
Come, now while summer shall shine on your soul,
Leave off the darkness, the doubt and the fear;
Come, now the Earth’s with divinity full,
Leave off the wretched, and cling to the dear;
Come, now forgive, and thus make yourself whole.
Strands of silver clouds slowly drift away,
graze the ash of mid-summer smoky sky.
Two months on cold wind will blow in blue bay,
from the tawny trees golden leaves will fly,
as fall arrives spraying dew on the way.
Already in the shops, I bet:
the stuff for Halloween!
So as you sun yourself and sweat,
imagine witches, ghosts and all things mean -
although no trick or treaters yet!
The seasons operate like Nature’s clocks:
when winter solstice fades, we’re on the rise!
Meridian’s behind us now (approx),
so savour, while you can, those smiling skies:
then buckle up! Here comes the equinox!
“Beautiful poets, do proliferate worlds for us to slip into with each poem you create” by author
For all of you whose poetry is filled
with words that thrill like dancers on a stage,
you wonderfully show us you are skilled
by how you phrase each line on every page.
Inside our hearts your messages have been instilled.
Remember when you first made your debut,
utilizing different senses to impart
emotions that with imagery get carried through
to us - your audience -as wordsmith art.
Never stop amazing us with what you do!
I love dancing to express, show and share my joy.
I revel in singing to the music, enhancing my mood.
Fashion, an aesthetic work of art is fun, I truly enjoy.
As a foodie, eager to try, seek out new or best food.
As a writer, I like emotive language … I am not coy.
Wed young- three babes I had by twenty-four.
Part-time, earned a B/A in English, and
my poetry and paintings seemed to soar.
More joys when five grandchildren grew, expand
to five dear great-grandbabies, I adore.
The years have worn my body down:
and soon, I'll breathe my final breath.
Life has left me tired and rundown,
and yet, I'm not afraid of Death:
though, I'll meet my end with a frown.
Lately, time has been running fast:
and my bones are getting fragile.
So many of my friends have passed
I thank God that I'm still agile:
though I don't expect that to last.
Fate has not been overly kind:
yet, overall, life has been good.
With a positive frame of mind;
Life feels real, not Hollywood:
I'll regret leaving it behind.
I will miss humanity's grace
and the unique sound of laughter.
Memories my death will erase,
can't join me in the hereafter:
but till then, they're mine to embrace.
Specific Types of Quintain (Sicilian) Poems
Definition | What is Quintain (Sicilian) in Poetry?