Best Again Poems
When Again We Meet
Softly he says, "Should I die do not wait for me." She smiles,
"Just as the moon exhales no light without first a breath from the sun,
without you I'd be in darkness; what is paradise without light?"
04/17/2018
Written for the Avebury Gorsedd, 24th September 2016
I wish you well...
I’m here, again…
Come riding in, upon the western wave
My hair all wove with golden leaves, my breast
As pale as moonlight on a hidden grave
And all the sins of summer long confessed
I come, again…
In sweeping skirts, with white swan feathers strewn
To brush the summer dust from weary grass
Make ash of aspen, damp the flame of noon
Before the frost freeze water into glass
I bring, to you…
Windfallen apples, berries from the hedge
Long shadows on the barrows, and the chalk
Wild winds to stir the willows and the sedge
And mist, and myth, down every path you walk
I’m here, again…
The promise of the harvest to fulfil
The energy of autumn, streaming through
The swirling springs that spiral round the hill
To drench the land in red and russet hue
I come, again…
Between the longest day and shortest night
To fill the blood and marrow of your bones
With all the orange glory of the light
Before the dark descend upon the stones
I bring, to you…
A cornucopia of ripened fruit
Dark juices of the vine in bottles bright
To nourish soul and body, to transmute
Your thought to dream, your dream to second sight
For I am She…
Am Autumn writ, in every field and tree
Am mistress of the Owl and running Hare
So yield unto my kiss, and blesséd be
And dance with me, oh Druid, if you dare…
@ Gail Foster 23rd September 2016
Iris sun fades and so does the day
whispers the carried in the silence of night glowing
Wishes floating on silver trails faraway
The image of your face will forever bounded to this world
Angels Brought you to me made a lightening
sparkling diamonds in the misting treasures gems so bright
Ice roses turns into a steaming jungle of quivering glass
Flashing in the distance, in the moon light
and all of its stars, that's where the angels dancing
A beautiful adventure picture sparklers on a winter night
A cold moon dressed in dark velvet
with a pearl milky white smile beams
Sparkling jewel crystal lights up
stars blinking silver awakening
warm invading darkness your light
My life has at last found its light and its hope
Soulful cries a wolf dressed in winter clothes
faraway over ocean waves
carries in a wind’s whisper sweet music dances
A magical night that will set the spirit free
Silently breathes out a puff of magic sweetly
beauty enchants warmly etching strikes
frosted fingers cracking ice deeply echoes
Striking inside bells toll warmly skipping drumbeats
bouncing of chamber walls loving tunes
Believing in your love a dream
Which enchants music of the butterflies dance
howling clouds out steaming warm sighs fluttering warmly
I closed my eyes at the end of the road
and thought of the stars
and the reason earth spins around the sun
A co write written by Liam Mcdaid and
Anne- Lise Andresen :) - 28.12.2014 -
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Dancing once again with words,
As the two of us, embrace--
Another verse, another rhyme
Of waterfalls, and lace.
Romantic words in meter,
Although where's the gentle kiss?
Where's the touch and feel of it,
The tenderness, I miss?
Need I craft another verse, or two,
Of moon and leafy wood?
Should one appear, and touch my heart,
Then possibly I could.
But what would be the good of it,
Shall my words a love renew?
Then a sonnet I would surely pen
With the imagery of you.
And who can say, though distantly,
Perhaps a spark could grow--
Then I would dance, and cheek-to-cheek...
And let my poems go.
THE FLOWERS WILL GROW AGAIN
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
quietly the daffodils wait,
a hushed congregation,
their voices silent beneath the earth.
I stand on the frozen ground, shimmering,
my breath caught in the throat of winter,
watching the skeletal trees claw at a gray sky.
I walk through the barren garden,
winter’s grey skies weeping a soft lament,
and wonder, “Does spring remember us?”
from my frost-covered window I wait,
my heart softening with hope
as the sun slowly, steadily returns.
then, I hear a slight tremor,
see a green spear piercing the earth's crust~
a defiant flag in the face of winter’s retreat.
I step outside, kneeling in the damp earth,
ears to the ground, listening intensely,
hoping I’ll hear them.
then, the trumpets silently call,
a sound unheard by most,
resonates in my winter-weary soul.
overnight the daffodils emerge,
spring’s sunlight and hope,
captured in fragile yellow cups.
they herald a simple yet profound truth,
one I almost forgot,
“the flowers, like hope, will grow again.”
Apple blossoms flutter in the breeze. Awakening,
Barefoot to the brook we go, brightly scampering,
Counting caterpillars discovered on our way -
Daffodil and daisy picking this delightful day.
Enjoying the earth’s rebirth, revitalized are we!
Free, like foals we frolic through the fields with energy.
Green surrounds us; onto grass gratefully we fall.
Happy to have found this heaven, on a hill we sprawl.
Invigorated by our rest, in a little while,
Joyously we jump right up; we only have a mile. . .
Knowing we are getting close, faster now we run,
Leaping over lilies lying lush beneath the sun.
Myriads of other meadow flowers now appear.
Nature’s hidden splendor is getting very near.
Over by an old oak tree, it’s coming into view!
Picture perfect, it presents a pure and pleasant hue.
Quickly we approach it, without a single qualm.
Refreshingly it beckons us; our romp disturbs its calm.
Suddenly we’re splashing , and later we will seek
Tadpoles that are teeming in this, our secret creek.
Until the sun has disappeared in the April sky,
Vibrant crimson will have spilled through clouds. We say goodbye
With great reluctance to our brook, which has been for us
Xanadu! But now the warmth of home awaits us. Thus. . .
Youthful frolicking is finished. We have left the stream.
Zesty I could be again but only in a dream!
Submitted Dec. 4, 2021 on Word: Zesty
For the '''Z'' Contest, New or Old -' Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
One look at you – that’s all it took
Your long long legs that seem to go on forever
Those eyes staring at me
All I feel for you is revulsion
Hate – it’s a horrible word but I simply detest you
There will never be a place for you in my life ...
Goodbye
Then I flushed the spider down the plughole!
26th March 2015
devotion unveiled
the fisherman casts his line
his heart now possessed
curves carved in pleasure
chiseled spine traced by touch
love stripped to the bone
flaws etched precisely
he frees an internal scream
she opens her heart
her essence absorbed
two souls artistic beauty
a match written in stone
If I told you, Donald, my love was true
Would you dance for me, glad to be my boo?
Or give a mean retort
Making a piggish snort
No Valentine's kisses from me to you
Melania is getting done with Trump
All he cares about is his nasty rump
The Epstein files don't lie
Knows he's guilty as pie
When his term ends, he'll be sent to the dump
If he tells me, I never wear a smile
It's because I think he's a pedophile
Ungodly as a papist
And a guilty rapist
Who knows what else is in the Epstein file
King Donald Trump thought Greenland he’d steal
Used threatening blunder in his spiel
This Valentines Day
Thought he’d have his way
Greenland said, “Up yours, Donald. No deal!”
Don Trumpty is totally impotent
He can't get it up for any event
It remains very slack
Can’t perform in the sack
On Viagra his bucks have all been spent!
Donald J. Trump held a Valentine's Ball
The world's dregs... he has invited them all
There was Kim Jong and Putin
Khamani and Rasputin
His ego boosted, he felt ten foot tall
No roses to give from the rose garden
He paved it with a black heart that's hardened
Installed gauche golden bling
and destroyed the East Wing
Criminals and crooks, he's given pardon
Melania said that they’d never part
And told him she loved him with all her heart
She held his waist tight
Squeezed with all her might
Poor Donald gasped and let out a fart
The President is standing in the buff
Posing nude and trying to strut his stuff
I guess he supposes
Wife wants sex not roses
But sadly, his old todger is too duff
Donald forgot it was Valentine's Day
Was too busy with targeting his prey
By grabby their tushy
His bare hands, so pushy
All the red roses sold out anyway
The FLOTUS put Donald in his place
In the bedroom he can’t touch first base
Cos he bedded Stormy D
Then Epstein files, oh dear me
The POTUS has got egg on his face
I'd be his Valentine if he'd hold still
Long enough for me to give him a pill
that would put him to sleep
And freeze the nasty creep
Putting him in a cryogenic chill
Cupid's arrows missed their mark, A collaboration of thoughts by
Jan Allison, Tania Kitchin, Tom Cunningham and Lin Lane
I don't need to remember what it was like to be a kid
I don' t need to memorize where all the fun had been .
It was in the unique moment of a first-born spirit
without obligations and responsibilities .
A Brief moment recalled and lived in a dream.
Immersed in the body of a little brown-eyed girl
How I danced with the flutter of a butterfly ,over and over again.
Dressed up neatly in a white collar shirt ,and a navy blue pinafore dress,
How I ran , breathlessly , in evergreen fields
full of yellow buttercups, dandelion buds, and almond trees
which barely blossomed through the eyes of women , and men .
How I jumped like a frog earning its freedom , doing my utmost to catch the sky,
to reach the soaring hand-made kite ,which kept moving far and high.
My left -hand never letting go of that special red balloon ,
Mama's reward , on a windy afternoon.
Each following morning, feet too tired to get out of bed
but that lasted only till' I saw Uncle Frans'hat.
How happy I was to sit on his lap ,, and listen to bible stories He read.
How happy I was , to lick early fresh raindrops running down
my cheeks,so different from the ones
I feel when I'm out of my sleep.
Moments to preserve. ..
There on the back seat of papa's olive- green car ,
Our Chitty -Chitty Bang- Bang , travelled so far.
Mum,dad, my brother and I ,face 'gainst the wind,
Open mouths , Indian sounds , humming along ,
waiting for birds'wings to flutter as they sing.
What a moment , of hide and seek,musical chairs ,
Of midnight mass and Christmas prayers .
I lived them all ....
Splashes of waves, shovel and buckets on sands ,
Autumn's foliage , picnics with cousins
uncles,aunties ,and friends.
Immersed in the body of a little girl
with long noichettes french -braids swaying in the breeze ,
Playing hopscotch,running wild in vacant cobbled streets.
I do not need to remember what it was like to be a kid
I am there, in the dream , I had lived .
I tasted pure honey before I'd been kissed
Before years took their toll , wiped off
sugar -frosted pink from my innocent lips .
The deli-girl fumed and was swearing
At the Frenchman's request , so uncaring .
"Sir you are the dregs
NO !! I don't have frogs legs .
It's these 5 inch high heels that I'm wearing ".
He said " that pigs head looks so meek ".
His short shiny snout oh so sleek .
But to her surprise ,
He said "leave in the eyes .
It's gotta see me thro' the week ".
Inspired by the talented pen of M/S Guzzi and her " Bull O Ney " , rhyme , for the double
limerick contest ..
Last night I cried and to tell the truth
I really don't know why
Perhaps it was the loneliness
or the anger trapped inside
I cried because the things I want
seem like a distant dream
And no one really understands
the way I feel - it seems
I cried because I need someone
to whisper in my ear
"no matter what the problem is
you know I'll be right here"
I cried because I miss my mom
I miss her warm embrace
I couldn't stop the tears from rolling
swiftly down my face
I cried because it seems to me
I'm destined to be alone
or could it be unknowingly
I'm reaping bad seeds I've sown
Did I offend or take for granted
someone in my past
Could that be why I cannot find
a real love that will last
I guess I'll never understand
or find the reason why
But I do know that every now and then
I will break down and cry
copyright2005
I see that acacia tree
and I get vacuumed back to the past.
When we both had
a different type of light in our eyes,
with the reflections of that clear brook
evident in our irises,
where we thought that the
sun only revolved around us, and us alone.
We thought we knew better,
or did we?
Did we truly know anything at all?
My heart gurgles a bit,
as it chokes, bleeding on memories...
I am beside myself,
and I look so stupid,
hugging that tree,
a lifeline to what was.
I envy that tree, for its sturdiness,
its roots being so deep-seated,
so much unlike us,
easily broken, swayed, uprooted.
I loathe that tree,
for it still blooms,
blushing with its bright pink flowers
so delicate-looking and beautiful.
So unlike myself.
I feel ugly now. I actually am.
With hate and guilt eating at me from my core,
how could I not be?
I am rotten.
I am corroded.
From the looks of it,
I seem to have drunk from that
brook (now polluted), ingesting the trash
strewn there
I just never knew how much filth there was.
I am not infallible.
I thought you were.
But I was wrong. Dead wrong.
You tried to pull me up, but
became too heavy for you...
I dragged you down with me,
so deep, too deeply
that I had to bury you.
Along with my heart and soul,
which have both turned into stone.
I am stoned.
Yes, I feel so heavy,
so heavy I wish someone
would bury me,
throw me in the sea
so I could sink to the bottom and be forgotten.
Or better yet,
is there a magic pill
being sold somewhere
that can make me go back—
Start all over
and do things over?
What I would give
to recapture that light,
to have you back
but I know it is too late.
You’ve gone already.
Left me...
Or so I thought.
I always had the tendency to be wrong,
and it had never felt so great.
I turn around
and a different kind of light
kindles my I(rise)s.
Like that acacia,
I bloom again.
I felt I’d known you all my life
When I met you and your lovely wife
Your daughter and grand-daughter too
A friendship forged, we will again renew
When I saw you at the airport today
Hugs and kisses came my way
Treasured memories of the days we met
These precious times we will never forget
Hugs Jan ***
Jan Allison
4th November 2014
Take me again…
Take me… for I am nothing without you
Tease my desires with your fingers a’ wander
Upon quivering flesh, shivering needs cry
All of this is yours, deeply offered, rhythmically played
Bite me… little marks to revisit at dawn
My chest, my thighs, my soul pleads
Drinking of this passion, thirsting for more
Peering up at you, wings flutter within my heart
Use me… as I lay here, hands lifting
Slow circles encompass warm breaths
Moaning eclipses bring edged light from outer visions
Cupped of fevered frenzy and firm decisions
Ride me… I am your stallion, unsaddled, unbridled
Grip my mane, tear at my shoulders, guide me to that valley
Where whispering willows sway in mahogany waves
Finding the depths of your heightened encampment
Scream me… my name on your lips excites
When the comet appears and streaks the sky
Flashing sparks meld between us shimmering, erupting
in a cosmic flow, lava escapes in hot pulsating streams
Take me again… for I am nothing without you
Good night Soupers