Best Adeline Poems
FOREVER ADELINE
Acknowledgement:
A big thank you Sam Scott from our Poetry Soup Community,
for your splendid narrative contribution.
Synopsis:
A story of unrequited love that began in childhood.
Despite the passage of time, his love remained hauntingly
painful even after she fell in love with another.
Aloft on wings of rhapsody, together spirits soar
Wild, untamed and sensuous, just like a lion's roar.
HOW LONG AGO IT SEEMS THE TWO OF YOU FIRST MET
AS TIME IS RENDERED MEANINGLESS
OR TIMELESS, BETTER YET
Though in that Timeless moment, along came winds of change
Love swiftly rearranged, but what it WAS, remained
Oh, Adeline, so fair and bright,
Eyes, like stars, shine with delight,
Oh fickle heart, now you await
your new love's sweet embrace
Blinded by the callous cad, you foolishly don't resist
In the quench of love's allure, Time does not exist
His loving lips will not reveal your new love's promiscuous charms
Intoxicated, unrepentantly, he sways to others' wanton arms.
Across the bronze Sienna shores and blissful sea breeze skies,
He ever trails your hungry heart through
his own saddened eyes.
Oh, Adeline in Twilight's Hush,
where shadows dance and play,
A tale of love and longing
When Night succumbs to Day
Oh, Adeline, will it be
mere friendship, he would fain?
To be just a deliverer of love notes,
a job he will disdain
Oh, Adeline ~ Sweet Adeline
At every glance - a secret shared,
his every word - love unsaid,
In every touch - a fire dared
HOW LONG AGO IT SEEMS ~ THE TWO OF YOU FIRST MET
AS TIME IS RENDERED MEANINGLESS
OR TIMELESS, BETTER YET
Chansons ne sont que chansons
Quand on écrit de l'amour
Comment d'écrire des chansons
De la femme qui est l'amour?
English translation from above:
Songs are just songs
When we write about love
How do you write songs
Of the woman who is Love?
OH, ADELINE ~ SWEET ADELINE
by Maria Williams ©
Background garden images taken on our recent visit to the amazing
Hunter Valley Gardens, Sydney, Australia
Musicians
Harp - Rolando Cristaldo
Violins: Fátima Benítez
Celeste Osorio
Note: In 1976, Richard Clayderman (real name Philippe Pagès) received a telephone call from a well-known French record producer, who was looking for a pianist to record a gentle piano ballad. Paul had composed this ballad as a tribute to his newborn second daughter “Adeline”. The 23-year-old Philippe Pagès was auditioned along with 20 other hopefuls and, to his amazement, he got the job.
O sweet Adeline, born eyes open
And a smile on her small lips.
O delicious child I heard her gurgle
As if she had heeded a joke.
A tune raced in his mind and
He knew it was urgent to put it on paper.
The babe made noises of joy
And the music echoed its tune,
At times it was repetitive
At times it sounded soft and sweet.
But soon the babe raised her voice
A repetitive mellifluous melody
Lulling the babe to sleep.
Dream little child, dream on
Would that you have pleasant dreams,
And may the Good God bless you forever.
Painting: Adeline Ravoux by Vincent Van Gogh
who can comprehend my emptiness (she asks) i can (says the artist)
written 17 July 2023
Van Gogh Monoku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Di11y Da11y
An angel in mortal guise,
Devoted to family.
Everything a child could want,
Life, love, and hope came from you.
In my heart, you're in heaven,
Nothing brings me more joy, than
Envisioning you up there.
Acrostic
03/12/2015
My mother was named Adeline, which means
"Noble." An apt name for a gentle lady.
She passed away 05-08-2009.
On the side of the road to the Small Mission
Of Nuestra Senora del Los Milagros
A white rose stands under the shadow to peace all divisions
Protected by a majestic Eucalyptus with branches we cannot dose
Adeline was a girl whose name reflected the rivers’ streams
White soul and pink smiling cheeks
Age twenty and mystic dreams
Praying for others as many as she could see
Sheltering under the Eucalyptus to escape from the storm
Singing a madrigal to the crystalline river
Echoing with dances the loops of the Andean condor
Covering her shoulders with fresh leaves not to shiver
Walking to the white Mission of friars up to the hills
Counting the trees, the parrots and the toucans
Sheltering by the Eucalyptus from the highlands chills
Caressing with her hands the Stars on the Andean mountains
It was Sunday when she was taken
Bands of rebels surrounded and took her splendor and life
She was left under her tree, still holding a Cross into her hands
A Rosary covering the cut from the knife
Her last thought to Our Lady who smiled at her in those green plans
Ballade pour Adeline
A White rose that can no longer thrive
Women from there to pray for their lives
Adeline inspiring girls when becoming wives
Adeline, who was begging and forgiving those who took her life
Still, in the night, people can hear her songs whispered by the tree
Accompanied by the mysterious chiming of the Mission’s bells
A melody that brings the soul to free
From mind and heart chains that capture love spells
A poem by the wonderful Maria Williams (copy link above)
Many said it would happen when you least expect it
Young, virile, twenty-eight, a baby in the corporate world. Not ready yet.
Until he walked into a Parisian restaurant and saw Adeline.
Her brown hair was a feature, sure, but he could not see her eyes.
Noting her straight back, coral sundress. She was probably young.
He sat at the table next to her, positioned himself to see her face.
She had sky blue eyes, like his grandmothers, and a heart-shaped chin.
Her smile illuminized the room. He was struck speechless.
Exquisite; totally beautiful. He could not stop looking at a yellow rose.
Placed in the middle of her chest; feature of her coral sundress.
Bit overdressed, strands of pearls at her neck and drop earrings.
A formal woman, someone he most likely should avoid at all costs.
Too rich for my blood, he told himself, pretending to read his book
Coral bow on the back of her veiled sun hat kept capturing his eye
He could not stop looking. She finally turned and asked him a question.
He asked, “Pardon?” “Aren’t you coming over?” She asked.
Adeline was the epitome of womanhood and enthusiasm.
He was charmed by her joyful ways and her tittering laugh
He did not have a chance his mother would tell people.
For of course she also had blue eyes like his favorite grandmother.
I am on a writing wonder roll today
I credit the sun with a hip hip hooray!
Trixie is on spring break far far away
We are glad for she deserves an hour and a day.
Her cousin Adeline came to help me a bit.
But I argued with her first idea, and she had a fit.
She marched off mad, in a ridiculous childish snit.
How much more persnickety can a sub-muse get?