Best Airily Poems
the dimness
of this dawn
cannot cloud
my thoughts
that rise
flushed
across my flesh
i thirst for you
more than this soil
thirsts for rain
as it falls
airily down
surrounding me
in whispered breaths
passion unfolds
in blushed hues
across dream's horizon
where the flickers of stars
still dance within
the edges of azure
peering back
beneath the clouds
i feel the warmth
encompassing me
despite this rain
falling down
as dawn breaks
in splashes
of thoughts
beautifully
this epistle per mine choice of heir apparent presidential throne
composed from one liberal minded non-conformist rolling stone
prompted awareness that one voice can affect which contestant will win
and occupy the white house after the votes get tallied from political spin
aware thy missive from an anonymous fellow and a self anointed scribe
will be carefully screened no matter opinion already cast with nada bribe
personal opinion of this sole american male of two score and nine years
that barack obama possesses that je ne sais quois diplomatic state craft
despite disparaging broadside starring paris hilton plus britney spears
the land of lincoln candidate exemplifies (to myself) a charismatic charm
in tandem with a relaxed persona and gait akin per a commoner on a farm
that nonchalant easy going affinity speaks nonverbal volumes to this chap
cringes when espying or hearing from opposing challenger whose lips flap
meaning john mccain whose hidden motives and agenda include his trap
to plant seeds of doubt per un-decided electorate causing lead to get a zap
unknown how trials and tribulations rival democratic senator from Illinois
will weather local nor global challenges and said solution he might employ
i opt for said captain to steer ship of state and exclaim to drop anchor ahoy
if via cosmic divine intercession the galloping newcomer in this horse race
ushering biracial as nominal winner televisions would show a beaming face
the political ramifications analogous to betting square outcome on this ace
i gently beg, decry, fulminate counter attack advertisements fast and quick
against those subliminal sly messages that at first blush appear airily slick
and please reach deep in that magic bag resorting to retaliatory artful trick
lest burning from the madding crowd extinguished like jack’s candle wick!
O yes, that is fine day
For fishing in mountain river
When weather is bad,
And raining from early gray dawn.
When world look so pity and doleful
Maybe for artists and poets
But so nice for big and hefty fishes.
They are swimming out
from deep and cold bottoms and hidden caves
to surface
collecting on shallows,
sometimes one by one
splashing and jumping out watercourse
close to edge
with clear joys and playing ecstasy
as if that silver living marvel
suddenly felt and predicted
the next Great Flood,
or time of Paradise
when all creatures
will coexisted friendly, peacefully and intermixed
Lullabying with one unimaginable divine future.
So its seems that fishes
have tryed set on the benches and wings
of some awesome waterwheel,
more grandeur than London’s or Singaporean’s Eyes,
appearing airily
for the vision of greatest waterfall
between joining Heaven and Earth,
Seas and Skys
in rainy day.
The skillful fishermen
Have good sense and flyer
For such days and luckiest instant.
They early wake up and gone to river
And capture lot of precious fishes,
Plying so naively for own hopes, dreams and ruptures.
Alas, for fishes
But good for intrinsic and great love
That also has such marvelous days
When you captured your reward,
If you early wake up and prepare himself
for catching precious golden
Swimming up from deep and waste waters.
Lavender lilacs pose pretty
with riotous rows of perfect petals
wind whipped, airily arcing
mesmerizing motions…paths pulsing
sweet scents wistfully woo
wispy winged, soft silk butterfly
to alight and sip fresh nectar.
Written on 12/14/2021
(whose video powerfully, profoundly, and
positively affected this southeastern residing
Pennsylvania papa)!
Afflicted with Cystic Fibrosis since her birth
contagious exuberance, gung-ho,
infectious jubilance noah dearth
which eye opening (then tearing)
podcast link sent tummy
FaceBook account,
she distilled and
didst poignantly blog the
purpose driven life,
no matter...hmm...
her existential time
nearing thee finis
line on planet Earth
though upworthy defying
deathly clasp of grim reaper,
who scythe lent
lee doth await
she (titled lass of poem) established
a substantial supportive network,
via such an up
beat aura, charisma,
persona, et cetera create
ting global bond sans,
world wide web, aye equate
chance lucky opportunity
to witness airily especial
and gutsy acceptance
of her (congenital) grim fate
while this healthy
(as an oxymoron) lix
spit tilling chap doth hate
sweaty palms (a minor,
though tolerable inconvenience)
versus being irate
at an accursed disease
still no cure as of late,
yet...state of
the art revolutionary treatments
provide longevity, and... YES
possibility to discover a mate
though consigning severe limitations
but...WOW, that girl (unknown
til yesterday) doth narrate
positivity, which amazing
will power didst permeate,
within thine noggin
triggering sincere flowing tears
bursting forth at an unstoppable rate
hence this attempted rye
ming livingsocial tribute
to go for broke
esprit de corps elan trait
completing a bucket list
while eternal sleep will wait!
blue butterfly flew in airily
faeries danced so merrily
Rog the funambulist
A paragon was Rog, heroic in the air, without airs
One of the most magnificent funambulists at ease
Whether walking a rope or flying on a trapeze,
Though he blessed the earth with no dauntless heirs.
None could ever hope to meet his burly like again.
How admirable was the way he stood, so poised
Muscles taut on his tightrope, the crowd un-noised
Agog, as he stepped off his platform drum, laden
With two massive iron balls held above his head
With nothing but his huge iron-bar moustache
To balance him, and a saving sense of panache.
Rog was unembarrassed though unencumbered.
He bore no unnecessary clothing, as he began to stride
Going forward, forty feet above the hard ground,
Looking straight ahead, as the crowd made no sound,
Eyes turned up at his almost bare bottom, and sighed
They gazed in awe, hushed in uncritical admiration,
As Rog held a two hundred pounds weight of iron balls,
Heavy, manly balls aloft, to earn him the more applause,
Balls steady over his glabrous head, wet with sudation.
The audience gasped as the taut rope trembled,
Twanging elastic beneath his firm, slippered feet.
The still warm wax in his moustache dripped suet.
Sweat oozed through his striped jumper, downward.
But Rog didn't tremble. Rog went forth on his way,
The way of the funambulist, not dithering or wayward.
Until the wax from his moustache fell ropeward.
Rog's foot was sure; Rog's arrant slipper caused dismay.
Rog slipped, and crashed to the ground, earth thumping,
Dropping his iron balls into the crowd, with abandon,
Maiming and slaying as Rog smashes into a circus lion,
Crumbling his skull, whence his brains were pouring.
The loitering lions were saved the trouble of cracking.
But Rog should not have waxed his handsome handlebar
So soon before he stood so perilous high, airily ahover.
There will ever be another Rog, so frightfully smashing.
Hummingbird hardly heard,
airily, merrily
extraordinarily
effortless floating, near
weightless transparency,
seemingly without the
slightest of care.
Urgent persistency,
terribly panicky,
frenzied and frantic, she's
burning through energy
rapidly, hungrily;
precise machinery
executes there.
Mallard so lazily,
buoyantly floating on
glassy flat waters, he
glides on the surface, and
wanders unhurriedly,
conveying contentment,
trivial feat.
Feet like a bicycle
furious pedaling,
splendidly, swimmingly,
chasing and fishing, he's
hungrily hunting and
ready to eat.
Merrily
fairies tease lyrical tunes
arranged almost airily
Breezily
frolic with wild woodland sprites
dancing through branches of trees
Kisses pressed
with great delight on the ears
of squirrels sleeping in nests
Finally
as the sun rises, they slip
under leaves, sleep peacefully
—————
This is a Treochair, 3a/7x/7a - kind of like it!
https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/treochair-poetic-forms
On a bright morning I was greeted warm
By a host of flowers of the self same hue
Smiling disarmingly from an orchid wild
With their white petals washed in dew
Amid the vernal green, they shone radiant
Like scattered stars bursting the seams of the sky
Airily they poised on their delicate stems
Waving at me from their stations high
Scattered here n’ there, not in neat array
They verily had an unusual charm.
Chanting in chorus, songs of lilting tunes,
They put my weary heart into a state of calm.
Had no idea from where they had come
Never had I seen the plant in bud before
They appeared abrupt as under a magic spell
I could count not one but a hundred more
Like festoons hung down from the turquoise sky,
They dangled down, bathed in sun’s early rays.
As they stood nodding at every gust of wind,
I stayed nonplussed admiring their simple grace.
Folderol and balderdash,
nonsensical, sweet whimsy.
Musical, so airily,
she prances round the elm tree.
Mimsy do, in flimsy blue
with bells upon her head, ho!
Where she goes, I do not know,
exquisite, never chintzy.
A woodland sprite, her face alight,
she coyly beckons fireflies.
Off into the dark, they go,
playing out a dance mid-flight.
Mirthfully, her friends in tow,
she’s chasing moonbeams in the night.
By:Sikolwethu Mthethwa
In readiness for my journey to the land of dreams,
I bring my pillow closer to the full moon
And wrap myself around the blanket of stars that litter the night sky
While the Serene breeze airily sings me a lullaby
One deep breath to purge myself of day's stresses,
My eyelids take their final bow
And stay true to their vow: to be the blanket that keeps my eyes warm
And protect them from
Any disturbance as I slumber
Now I am resting
If I were a bird, on the surface of the moon I would be nesting
My body leisurely drifts into the stillness of night
As if a clover falling to the ground.
Night holds me in a soothing embrace
Asleep and at peace, but my mind begins to race
It creates a world within a world.
A world in which my desires prove to be true
A world in which there's candid affection between me and you
I would say the sky is the limit, but there is no sky here
Only possibilities that know no bounds.
A world in which we're kind to Earth our mother,
Each other
And obidient to God our father.
Not all is peaches and cream
Wars loom and disease is still prevelant
But the absence of pursuit of power and greed
Render these predicaments far from permanent
Woman and man can gather
With their minds sharp and hearts light as a feather
They strategize
Instead of fantisize; on ways to put Earth's problems to rest
One at a time.
In this world my mind has created
The brilliance of our species is elevated
Our resilience is revealed and our being celebrated
Our moves and progression are carefully calibrated
The loss of life at the hands of each other is minimized
The slow death of our mother totally ceased
The number of those in God's favor greatly increased
It is in my wishes to bring this world to the one we all live in
Maybe to the force of Love for each other we'd finally give in
And the real progression of our species would finally begin
Ooh...this... just an amazing grace note
recalling how I felt like an ass
and wanna toot 'bout me getting steered
(as a heavy metal kid Rocker)
toward befriending a brass
see gutsy, horny,
and MainLine snooty upper class
action button down
(grace fully slick as vaseline), airily glinting
forcibly hawked, laundered, and pawned
by the instrumental
Mister Deangelo O'Donnell, High School
(mud flapping, ornery hearing,
and quid juicing Ska Welch ching)
music teacher oompah crass
tone deaf when aye trumpeted desire
to master the Coronet
analogous to pursing lips
blowing tightly held grass
blade between two abetted,
cinched fastened opposable thumbs,
which tooting a supposed aural aphrodisiac
to attract a zaftig well proportioned lass
(ideally shaped like a miniature Tuba)
with one steel funnel like mouthy mass
that probably explains, how such a gal
could easily emulate
facial pucker earning pass
to illustrious honorable first chair
and blasts gratitude akin
as Gabriel would declare
heavenly expressions conducting
angels thru atmospheric ether
alighting on mortal ushering melody
with rites of harkening
springtime Renaissance Faire
solar rays golden raiment
splays rainbow fragments off
beveled, bellowed, and
bedecked polished flare
audiological sound waves trick
saw toothed reflected
silhouetted orchestral shadows
to dance as conductor's baton gear
musicians horns ensemble
epochal feast to hear.
SPRING
drizzling
tempo rain
airily tapping
droplets dropping off leaves
fragrant scent of petrichor
sun-drenched life and green arousal
9/7/2020
Pyramids Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Come hither, come thither, come nigh
Don't dither, don't blither, don't sigh
Ask me how, ask me where, ask me why
Come hither, come thither, come nigh
Dance airily, dance merrily, dance spry
Not warily, contrarily or sly
Come hither, come thither, come nigh
Bedazzle, becharm, beautify
Do sparkle, do sizzle, do fly
Ask me how, ask me where, ask me why
Be gracious, vivacious, sagacious
Not voracious, rapacious or salacious
Don't be judgmental, tempermental or ungentle
Come hither, come thither, come nigh
Don't shout, don't pout, don't cry
Tread lightly, tread brightly, glorify
Come hither, come thither, come nigh
Ask me how, ask me where, ask me why