remembrance gentle like babe’s foot
smooth creamy warm
cradle handed down as heritage
here we sit waiting for christening
oblivious to what she will bear
what joys and anguish
hall clock ticktock
he is late with his mantras
to be whispered in her ear
soft purr of cat circles room —
nobody requires to speak
we roll new name on our tongues
over and over like counting
pearls on a necklace or
sweat drops down throat
even westwind is quiet today
a starling lands on sill
does not twitter, waits silent
she passes from one arm to next
wordless chaste enchanting
white crochet shawl alive
with granny’s hands —
teapot smiles rooibos tea
iced biscuits and cherries bedeck
oval oak sturdy, assured, steady
we hear his car in driveway
murmur a prayer of thanksgiving
still we whisper, still starling
has not flown or tweeted
teeny gold identity bangle glisten
white daisies shiver in bowl
petals endorse sound of name
beauty birthed has no time
__________________________
[Poet’s Note : Inspired by : Benicia Poet Laureate Emerita, Johanna Ely’s Poem : What Still Matters | Confirm : No AI ]
___________________________
Early gold elevates the Taj Mahal Restaurant.
Sun-rinsed beams bedeck its frontage.
The low strip mall is not yet awake,
yet it basks; it glows golden
through every light-enthroned window,
bejeweled signage floats
above a light laundered concrete
and new-washed litter.
For a few clear moments
the shop-worn facades glittered
in vivid auric rays
I saw it all through a windshield,
I saw a kind of heaven
take a selfie through a once tacky lens.
When I returned later,
the litter was just litter,
shopping carts dripped above cloudy puddles.
The Taj Mahal was open, and already
sinking into a lunch-time special.
The bridge above her nose was pierced,
Her nostrils were, as well,
With several silver bars laced through,
As far as I could tell.
Her upper ears both sported studs
And wrapped around her neck
A studded leather choker served,
With others, to bedeck.
I couldn’t count how many more
(I didn’t want to stare)
And on her wrists, assorted bracelets
Brightly dangled there.
She was a very friendly soul
And so I had to ask
If she slept with all her piercings;
She did not take me to task.
She simply laughed and said she did,
Not what I thought I’d hear,
Since I take my earrings out each night,
Just one in either ear.
Take a leisurely stroll in the pine grove.
The time of rejuvenation has begun.
A light drizzle will do, as will a shady cove.
The whole area is revitalized by the sun.
As a string of pearls around a slim neck.
Puddles decorate a tree in the rain.
Soon, the hands of the earth will bedeck.
anything that is visible to you, without pain.
Bestow your awareness forward.
And be in awe of the strength.
Inhale the floor sweet aroma onward.
That lingers after a bath or shower length.
Listen as the ground absorbs the rain.
From deep roots to boldest tips, a joy to gain
Buried life rises and dies on the ground.
Warmth is all nature needs to astound!
Written: May 28, 2023
Piano man Dave Brubeck
close harmony my ears di bedeck
Particularly his 'Take Five'
bringing jazz popularity alive
I am jealous
Of your waiting calls
Is it that you now have fellas
It seems of me, you not zealous
Despite the recalls
Once upon a time
I am the precious jewel on thy neck
You personally make me your heart's prime
That you volunteer your beads for me to bedeck
But all now has turned a crime
Why have you
You, I mean your heart
Has suddenly turned me blue
When I have mastered you: my art
A more save box now battered without clue
Don't run from me
I am still the dearest one
You know I will always be
Let us keep it secured in fun
Your grace have the right key
May be you think I want a thrush
Like an earthly angel from another realm
You know I just don't have you my crush
All my furniture are made from your elm
This isn't to make you blush
a thick
mist blankets
the winter dawn-
necklaced jewels bedeck
the hedge
NOTE:A cinqku is an 'English language 'version of a tanka with 17 syllables 2;3;4;6;2
no title and last two(or three) lines being a surprise/comment on the first three
lines &was created by American poet Denis Garrison
When fairy ring is formed
Fairies we just swarm
Under these colorful umbrellas
We gleefully dance with our fellas
Hopping over the wet wood
We play hide and seek with dudes
Soaring high in the air
We roam everywhere
Katydids with crickets hum
Crawling snails play drums
Millipedes do accumulate
dry leaves to accommodate
Vibrant flowers slugs hoard
To bedeck moss floors
And fire flies gracefully arise
to lighten the dark place
Now everything is ready
To begin a night party
Eschewing the world's noise
Stealthily we enjoy
October 06 2021
a thick
mist blankets
the winter dawn-
necklaced jewels bedeck
the hedge
In the chapel wherein he laid
His final moments here on earth,
Mirrored image of one’s boyhood
Stands he to claim his scabbard blade,
The chance to prove his manhood.
His mother chides him of his birth
Begs her the need to prove his worth,
His load is heavy the mist swirls
With sword in hand a stab he hurls,
Choice of opponent augurs well
For his father’s champion fell.
Mortal flame in constant bedeck
Life’s been a tombstone round his neck,
Needs the journey for which to trek.
His thirst for blood flows from many
Greed for gold and silver penny,
His ships glide portly on the tide
Needs to be by his mother’s side.
A man he thinks he has become
Yet all the folk at home had fled,
No one listens to his humdrum
When he returns to find her dead!
© Harry J Horsman 2020
Autumn’s palette filled with colors,
Nature puts her brush to paint.
Her one hundred box Crayolas, yellow,
Browns, reds, and oranges satiate.
Leaves and needles bedeck the trees;
They wear their finest autumn dress
Though the flowers may sadden the bees;
Not much nectar they now possess.
The bees for winter hibernate,
Just as the other animals do;
Spring requires an empty canvas to paint,
At the end of winter’s blues.
You’ll see more Crayola colors, hues making their debut; flowers sporting pink, yellow, purples, variegated hues.
12-28-19
2019 best sonnet Poetry Contest
John Hamilton
Her Eyes, Pools Of Promise Under Bright Stars
Her pillars of flame,mounds of firm delight
naked her beauty,wonderment at night
she a goddess,mankind truly desires
radiant heat,pleasures scorching fires
maiden of youth,true princess to behold
dreams of sweet memories,when one is old.
Her lips, tantalizing and rosy red
gift of passionate joy,in lovers bed
she a queen that offers hope to mankind
born of romance,a rare jewel to find
maiden of youth,true princess to behold
dreams of sweet memories,when one is old.
Her sexy charms,in glowing moonlit scenes
fantasies to bedeck a young man's dreams
she a vixen,sweet as honey and wine
a fruited dessert,ripe upon the vine
maiden of youth,true princess to behold
dreams of sweet memories,when one is old.
Her eyes,pools of promise under bright stars
Mankind's treasure,when her true love is ours!
12-28- 2019
When do you want to rebel?
At dawn when the thoughts are gathering
At broad daylight when the thoughts are hiding
At dusk when they are opening the buttons of their charade
Or at night when they have forgotten their purpose?
When do you want to rebel?
Lips bedeck in crimson, you wonder
Is it in search of blood or passion?
You wonder while they dance,
Allure you with smiles,
Lips, do you mean happiness?
Or have you slaved the smiles?
Oh you conniving puppetmaster!
When I rebel,
Will those strings be enough?
When do you want to rebel?
Hands touch you like you are satin
Wrapped around dirty, naked bodies
Without permission
When I strangle you
Will those hands be enough?
When do you rebel?
You love like a cloud in its deathbed
Caressing the wideness of an oblivious mountain
Soon vanquishing in his unyielding walls
When I turn into thunder and lightning,
Will that strength be enough?
Every breath is a chance to steer a storm
Every blink is a chance to create a memory
Rebellion is Agony's womb,
The place where
The sun and the moon,
Night and day,
You and I,
Our thoughts,
Were born.
colour
attracts a
bee here and there-
but fragrance stops it in
its tracks
over
the stubble
carrion crows-
the game-keeper heads home
for tea
August
shaded gold
becomes monsoon-
berries rot beneath the
bramble.
a drop
of water
upon the ground-
forever lost,without
a sound
inspired by 2 sam 14:14
Kisses
and cuddles
with whispered sounds-
love reciprocates
our need.
sunlight
on the tiles
dusted with snow-
rivulets overflow
the butt
dank fog
envelops
a bonfire night-
the party becomes a
damp squib
a thick
mist blankets
the winter dawn-
necklaced jewels bedeck
the hedge
a blue
plume curls from
the damp ashes-
yesterday's visions still
haunt me
the first
heavy frost
whitens the lawn-
overnight fall becomes
winter
muffled
bells echo
across the square-
sepia memories
surface
humid
canopy
of sultry days-
torrid tempers simmer
inside
A cinqku is an 'English language 'version of a tanka with 17 syllables 2;3;4;6;2
no title and last two(or three) lines being a surprise/comment on the first three
lines ie as in he American Cinquain of Adelaide Crapsey.Cinqku was created by American poet Denis Garrison
Kindness the Almighty showers,
In the form of gladdened flowers ,
Sea of love he oars through,
Unto us, the treasure of blessings he pours too!
His creations bedeck every land,
An unending hope he rays out of his palm,
World is submerged into the pupil of his eye,
He decides the destiny and rolls the die !
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