Best Abed Poems
In Dreams, Her Spirit Sallied Forth: with Lin Lane
Through frigid months, she waited for Spring rains
to give relief and ease heartbroken pains,
Nature will award that which Life commands
placing her true love, in its gentle hands.
O'sweet promise of passion's fine delights,
candlelight dinners and intimate nights.
With eager dreams her spirit sallied forth.
Away from winter's chill, in the far North.
Countless, were the eventides spent in dread
Praying he'd stay safe 'fore lying abed
She wished on stars in darkened Winter skies
as tears pooled in her melancholy eyes
Arctic winds blustered; through tall pines they'd blow,
layers of oceans, in white waves of snow
In Wintry dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Away from winter's chill, of the far North.
Pictures sent from her beau, her Southern man
whose dashing looks, deep blue eyes and bronzed tan,
had her heart remembering their first kiss
Without regret, love said, "Hold onto this!"
To wake with dawn's sweet warmth, upon her face
would ease her sorrow and heartache erase.
In ardent dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Beyond the frosty chill of the far North.
She brushed her hair, raven tresses fell
Her firelight shadow evidenced the swell
Softly, she hummed, cradling her unborn child
A motherly instinct that brought forth a smile
Having a babe, they had both long revered
That he'd be back in time, she deeply feared.
With anxious dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Further from winter's chill of the far North.
She was haunted by his voice in a dream
and awoke with the sound of her own scream
Rain, her companion, on an April morn
Pains let her know their child would soon be born
Alone, she prayed that she'd know what to do
In the door strode a man; eyes of deep blue.
No longer a dream, her man had come forth
To deliver their child in the far North.
11-01- 2018
Thank you for writing with me yet again after such a long break my friend. Your invitation to do another collaboration was a great gift and a blessing given to me. I sincerely appreciate such great kindness as well as your great advice given on poetry/editing. As such shows great talent and true poetic heart. You magnificent verses makes this a truly golden poem.
God bless always..
CHRISTMAS EVE
He lay abed
That most tranquil of nights
Aghast at moon and stars
Dad had painted for his delight
In one charmed corner
A spider was swinging
From his thready design
Outside strolling carolers singing
Then he rubbed his eyes
In wonder and awe
Blinked the pair twice
To clear what he saw
For a mist had developed
About his dark room
And from it bright light
From out of the gloom
Winged angels from glory
Appeared neath a star
And came flock-tending shepherds
From countries afar
3 kings richly dressed
Rode up on their camels
To a manger scene
With various animals
And the star
Shown down on a bed of hay
Where Mary and her new born
Babe did lay
The lad sat up in bed
Struck warm to the core
With a wondrous blessing
He’d not sensed before
He dropped to his knees
Thanking heaven above –
Toys Santa forgot -
Prayed world peace divine love
Dave Austin
Through frigid months, she waited for Spring rains
to give relief and ease heartbroken pains,
Nature will award that which Life commands
placing her true love, in its gentle hands.
O'sweet promise of passion's fine delights,
candlelight dinners and intimate nights.
With eager dreams her spirit sallied forth.
Away from winter's chill, in the far North.
Countless, were the eventides spent in dread
Praying he'd stay safe 'fore lying abed
She wished on stars in darkened Winter skies
as tears pooled in her melancholy eyes
Arctic winds blustered; through tall pines they'd blow,
layers of oceans, in white waves of snow
In Wintry dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Away from winter's chill, of the far North.
Pictures sent from her beau, her Southern man
whose dashing looks, deep blue eyes and bronzed tan,
had her heart remembering their first kiss
Without regret, love said, "Hold onto this!"
To wake with dawn's sweet warmth, upon her face
would ease her sorrow and heartache erase.
In ardent dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Beyond the frosty chill of the far North.
She brushed her hair, raven tresses fell
Her firelight shadow evidenced the swell
Softly, she hummed, cradling her unborn child
A motherly instinct that brought forth a smile
Having a babe, they had both long revered
That he'd be back in time, she deeply feared.
With anxious dreams, her spirit sallied forth.
Further from winter's chill of the far North.
She was haunted by his voice in a dream
and awoke with the sound of her own scream
Rain, her companion, on an April morn
Pains let her know their child would soon be born
Alone, she prayed that she'd know what to do
In the door strode a man; eyes of deep blue.
No longer a dream, her man had come forth
To deliver their child in the far North.
Thank you for opening the door to me for this write, Robert. It began on a cold Winter night, but Spring rains brought with it, a new beginning. Writing with you is like opening a treasure chest of beautiful gemstones.
When tons of doom filled nights fall on your head,
hot embers glow and fires burn unabated,
you recall her last breath and wish you were dead.
In a poem's sad lines you've been castrated.
From the heavens a voice thunders dire threats
about losses and breakfasts consumed without eggs.
Fumbling about, looking to hedge your bets,
you drink your cold coffee, down to burnt dregs.
On waking you find dawn's hard hammer fell
last night's burns are reminders of strife.
You stumble and look up from the pits of Hell,
recounting the reasons why you lost your wife.
Your clock chimes out vulgar curses at you
and your house bids you leave by peals at noon.
You think of the ancient, wicked dreams, too,
as night falls with its wretched lucent moon.
You dream of hungry tigers eating your boots.
Your house is perched atop two adjoining trees.
A hunter fires; but it's not a tiger he shoots.
Your second wife cuts off your legs at the knees.
With life's blood flowing from your severed veins
your heart bemoans that you married once more.
By morning you were free from nightmare's pains
but horrid memories linger behind closed doors.
What vast burdens you bear in fear of sleep
and hollows in your mind fill quickly with dread.
When your clock strikes twelve, I hear you weep,
" Odious anguish! I wish I were dead."
Shadows dance on your walls in candle light.
Dark images of her body pressed close to you,
waltzing in your arms on a moonlit night
but she vanishes when dawn's rays break through.
Which sort of dream scars your mind with more grief?
The ones in which you're butchered; burned by fire,
or when daylight steals her away like a furtive thief?
Will your penance release you from the leeching mire...
the terror you encounter each night as you lie abed?
Foolishly, you once thought love claimed your heart.
Therein lies the angst of what you most dread...
the vexing memories in dreams that tear you apart.
Co-Written with Robert Lindley based on the original
verses he offered in the open challenge on his blog.
Abed this angelic night bound by quiescent beauty,
yearned thoughts of whence the birth
of our yester-years proclaiming
loves first scene waltzes
through thy interior
monologue. In great
measure is our
immediate
kiss miles away
on the outskirts of
different land. Persuading
life on end to amble
midst ninth cloud holding
hands. Oh how this
instant she
remained
taking form
as treasures in
favor of thy last name.
Enraptured at moment is
her warmth skin embraced
with mine...(SIGH) Fingers extend,
tracing single by single the tears about thy face...knowing that love at last
came upon its indissoluble place. Thank you God for orchestrating our lives this way.
Pace, INK-U-SCRIPT
11-04-2014
Read about Poem
Lips touch the tip of morning with the awakening
of thine eyes,
accompanied
by inexhaustible
thoughts of only
you. Drifting away
from abed, thoughts
trace in tandem with
thy body in lost sight
within the flat-bottomed
vessel. Water pouring
down accreting to the
seductive oils
forming to
crystallized
foam.
Drowning
deeply
in
Love.
Pace, G
INK-U-SCRIPT
08-02-2012
Winter's chill breath clouded my windowpanes
Snowdrifts covered Autumn's shades of umber
I listened to music, composed in wistful strains
My family were all abed, snuggled in slumber
Nostalgic tears fell; far too many to number
My sad thoughts were replaced by a smile
as I staunched the swell that freely flowed
Grateful for my blessings, now and erstwhile
for upon me God's grace has been bestowed
I closed my eyes, praying as candles glowed
December 13, 2021
Winter Quintain Contest
Hosted by Francine Roberts
Moonlight will reign when twilight fades
Skies darken and starlight cascades
The world is poised, ready for sleep
While my heart aches, and my eyes weep
Tides continue to ebb and flow
Grief chills my life like Winter snow
Tears borne on waves into the deep
While my heart aches, and my eyes weep
Nights are long as I lie abed
Memories of us fill my head
Time moves slowly, seeming to creep
While my heart aches, and my eyes weep
In restlessness, I toss and turn
For what I have lost, I still yearn
From love we've sown, I cannot reap
While my heart aches, and my eyes weep
Muted in lament are my sighs
So no one hears my mournful cries
I pray to God, "My soul to keep"
While my heart aches, and my eyes weep
As dawn appears in morning light
I'm thankful for passage of night
Across my room, sunlight will sweep
While my heart aches, and my eyes weep
Lying awake abed and all slept out
I listened to the falling morning rain.
The pitter-patter landing in the spout
Made rhythmic sounds while flowing down the drain.
In vain I tried composing rhyme to it
Instead I found myself just mesmerized.
The drip, drip, tap, tap I must admit
Had totally rendered me hypnotized.
While in this early morning conscience sleep
An inner voice of mine began to speak:
You are a fool to think while angel’s weep
The muse will help you in the quest you seek.
When the rain stops and angels dry their eyes
It’s only then a poem can be devised.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The pixie lept on sweet air,
laughter spun from golden thread.
Moon winked, and she tossed her hair.
Said, "together let's abed!
I took pixie's beguiling hands in mine,
her wings aglow like crimson twilight wine.
She laughed and spun me through fairy dust air~
romance and starlight tangled in my hair.
Oh, pixie, you glittered bright (fey delight),
your allure was so wild, so brief~
bewitching me all night
portentous thief!
bye!
There was once a young man from LaSalle,
Who quite loved to fall back in the fall.
But the spring's jump ahead
Found him lying abed
An hour late for his job at the mall.
His boss said, "Being late will not do.
Falling back means one springs ahead too.
We will show you the gate
If you come to work late.
Early bed is the right way for you."
Written for Debbie's contest. 3/2/15
awakes, striding seamlessly towards the
trajectory of daybreak. Abed, passionately
attended by orectic thoughts; of whom
early on was created from man’s thoracic cage.
~Envisages;~
Without the least trace of compunction; exfoliating the
Saccharine damped canal with the tongue. Combined oils
and aroma lingers on the lips. Though the stiffened, unbridled,
solid thick muscle would supersede the tongue as the
warm tightened canal adjusts to its width inextricably.
~Pausing~
Waterfalls pouring profusely
Eyes trudge backwards
to that of yesterday
Fingers ascendant
to the nearest limb.
Digits of the foot holding forth
discourse with the sun.
~Orgasms~
Simultaneously
In due course.
Garnished bed linens
Accompanied by
Whitish fluid
~P-H-A-N-T-A-S-M-A-G-O-R-I-A~
"1st Pace Winner"
Contest Name: Best Descriptive Poem
Pace, G
INK-U-SCRIPT
My sleep is dream-filled now --
imagined scenes, practiced dialogues,
fervid comments, loving words --
never-voiced retorts.
I resist awaking, lie in bed
clinging to a dream world --
and to that mind-constructed me
within it -- to that better, truer self,
an ached-for rosy apparition.
Do not disturb my slumber --
let me lie abed and smile
until this waking world conforms
to the ideal one I build
in dreams.
The snow drifts to the ground
soft as babies breath
talcing the bottom of the farmer field.
The bows of barren maples brace
for the downy white.
Heat held in the asphalt
melts the first dusting,
its ashen countenance blanching, sullen
as the temperature plummets
cranky in the slush.
The snow laces the still air
edging the scrub brush
like baptismal lace on an infants gown.
A cradle cap for the bitter sweet
snow white and rose red.
Shush, the dawn traffic says
mother and child abed
Engines purr warmed and primed for morning.
Scrapers clear glass lens of light snow
the farm awakens.
Spring struggles to break winters hold
on its timely season onset.
The latent buds are reluctant
to sprout their protuberances;
robins haw vocal notes of song
while perched on stark swaying branches;
Crocuses spurn stifled tulips
abed for their impotency;
Sluggish hibernates’ hesitate
to waken from their dormancy
and fair-weather, housebound humans
unwilling to venture outside.
but soon a warm, vernal zephyr
will breathe life into everything
reviving consciousness of spring.