Best Arbors Poems
'O dreamy night
with wandering eyes
you could not lie to me;
deceive the drifts of snow
with crystal glitter...
Like tender downs in a midnite hour
Not a stirring soul but I in thy amphitheatre
this white night
where backyard chairs nestle snow-cakes
and the maple arbors
soft with wind shadows...
make my eyes wide with sleep
The sheep are calling in the stardust...
and from moonbeams
this muse must fade...
***I wrote this poem a few winters ago, but
I find it soothing to post this hot summer***
Grace had floated royal
among the sweet summered months,
and not a moment had passed
without the nectar of love;
Three feathered lords so fledgling
white-black,
sleeping white at noon,
'neath arbors brawn....
where the nestles are soft with love,
and dream to host all the world watching;
from horizon's scarlet painting pink
the billowed white hues ---
and black-purple from the Lord's smile
What crimson disguise five plumed hearts
beating as one,
return again o'er Swan Lake,
or with eternal love thy cherubin ponds;
with fountains swooning infinite grace
then they are gone.....
to privy their existence made,
sleeping black at night
('neath the gaze of tomorrow's moon)
the future brim with wind....
elder wings at dawn,
unto valor in evening's song,
fain to life again....
(flight of thy Royal Swan)
***Dedicated to the black swan and Queen's royal
swans of Ottawa***
A sword of the heavens did glean
From railings and arbors
of dead thorn and bramble,
where ghostly reminders remain
Fall droplets of blood ‘pon
a crimson embroider
left carelessly out in the rain
Our story begins
in a deep mountain valley,
a village so peaceful and free
When one day the darkness
did unsheathe its horror
with metal and death you will see
The army of Satan,
a wicked battalion,
Hell’s fire their sabers were forged
Dark Skeletal visions
in leather and armor
the depths of the earth had been gorged
With razor sharp weapons,
they slashed and delivered
such pain which had never been found
Through echoes of pleading
and lives quickly ending
in puddles, thick red on the ground
While women and children
were herded like cattle
in mass to the edge of the square
With onyx eyes leering,
midst snickers and cackles,
their captors insanely did stare
When on the horizon
a light brightly shining,
engulfing this nightmarish scene
A porcelain stallion,
its rider a shadow,
a sword of the heavens did glean
From steel hard as granite,
angelic depictions,
a handle of pure solid gold
Once heard in a fable,
when wizards were roaming
such power, the stories foretold
As swift as an arrow
he entered the village,
his steed all at one with the game
With blade silver glistened,
like lightning bolts flashing,
igniting a righteous born flame
Spinning and thrusting
as if a tornado,
a blur now incensed of the glow
With whirlwind fury
and dust clouded thunder,
he dealt them a terrible blow
The evil fueled army,
beheaded and fallen,
the villagers shouted and cheered
When to their amazement,
this heroic savior
as quick as he’d come, disappeared
So there is the story,
a sword made in heaven
is now part of history’s reign
Along with the rider
who wielded its honor,
and hopes he will come back again
9/13/18
Written for the UNSHEATH YOUR SWORD Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
Written: January 12, 2024
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Their buzzing goes unabated
the cool air scent of lavender
in this unfathomable cosmos
where dreams are fulfilled,
a smidgeon of silver wind
utterly enthralled.
Within the icy voids of
aching and colorless hues
raven-inhabited remnants
vulnerable grays
aesthetic fog, fanciful yarns
dissipating wood smoke
whispers of winter, as dusk falls
dawn in monochrome
amidst gentle chimes
traces of an emotional waltz
oblivion is grieved in silence
a blackbird with ruby wings!
The colors of the trees
Iridescent in appearance
create a stunning scene
that is incredibly fortunate
this is a poetic domain
where lilts joyfully chortle
the trees gently move
and the dryads are overjoyed
the heart of lullabies
with brilliant opals
giving wandering spirits hope
back in their house labyrinth
Scarlet nests were seen on high boughs
romantic place where calm blooms.
With the hearth of lullabies
opals that are flaming
soul-directing the wayward.
they're back in their home maze.
nests of crimson grew snugly.
among the boughs, exalted.
a sanctuary for love.
wherever there is harmony,
exquisitely halcyon arbors
colorful tapestry with wonderful beauty
Iridescent sky with gorgeous hues
In this magical setting, dreams bloom
where nature's splendor is eternal,
calmly, trees swing, and the dryads spin.
Written: January 23, 2024
__________________________________________
Their melodious humming drifts
through the fragrant night air
carrying a sense of tranquility
In this enchanting universe
where dreams come true
A delicate whisper
of silver breeze captivated softly.
Trees are lavishly graced
with azure iridescence
visualize an idyllic scene
that is truly magical
in this hypnotic realm
trees sway softly
as lilts chortle jubilantly
dryads are ecstatic
lullabies spark with
flamboyant emerald
fostering faith
in forfeited souls
lack within intricate
maze of their dwelling
scarlet nests tucked
high on twigs
An oasis of passion
where silence draws.
Lullabies load breeze
with a warm glow of opals
orienting dropped souls
In a mystery of
their abode once again
trees adorned with snugly
hidden crimson nests
a setting of love
where harmony sway
arbors wrapped
with stunning splendor
a vibrant tapestry
of dazzling majesty
their heaving hues herald
heaven with hypnotic hood
In this magical mannerism
musings mantling
In an ephemeral haven
of natural magnificence
dryads whirl and
trees sway peacefully
The winter-worn sky reveals a
faded, shimmering bronze and
gold shade, reminiscent of a
withered vermeil and naiad
fluorescent opals, paired
with scarlet demantoids in
smooth charmeuse enamel
mesmerizing maelstroms
of crystalline bonfire
flamingo flowers fit
with a fiery symphony
akin to the reverberations
of a silken folk melody
on the horizon
they shrink to hypnotic ink
scribbles on violet skyline.
I saw my mortality shaking in the wind.....
I heard my soul walking softly with the Lord,
no violent word could be heard between us;
As lambs we walked 'neath the gentle arbors,
through fields of grasses green
by streams dreaming starry cheers;
What could bring grim hope lives no more this eve,
though the rain pours against the levy....
and the wind hisses as ghosts steady....
As a lamb I walked with the Lord,
with starry-cheers,
and dreaming stream,
'neath gentle arbors,
and grasses green,
I heard my soul walking....
I'll be thinking of you as the cloak of night weeps lullabies to the waiting moon,
where morning star through cloudless sky sips the sweet of morning dew,
still, if the light should forget to shine, the beauty of you time can not impugn
as in my mind, yet your sweet smile, whispers the secrets of the one I knew.
Think of me if tear drops, like pastel pearls, kiss your soft smooth cheek
and the music stops, when the wind no more whistles across the ocean dune
for when the sweetness of your song, your tender lips will no longer speak
I'll be thinking of you as the cloak of night weeps lullabies to the waiting moon.
Think of me, when the fragrant petal adorns your satin wind fingered hair
far beyond the rough waters that life's long illusions have swept through you
to a place where vining arbors grow, Plumeria, Spider Lilly, and flowers rare,
where morning star through cloudless sky sips the sweet of morning dew.
Think of me on summer's day when melting sun warmed our cares away
like the breeze that caressed your glowing skin, here today, gone too soon
leaving only fading memories and dark lonely flashes of yesterday,
still, if the light should forget to shine, the beauty of you time can not impugn.
Think of me when the verse no longer rhymes and my words lose their meaning
for the muse that once lived inside of me, now, is but a curse of relic rune
which drowns in mumbled eternity, no voice for love nor life's intervening,
as in my mind, yet your sweet smile, whispers the secrets of the one I knew.
Remember me in the cold of winter past, when rain drenched our skin and soul,
clouds of pain like dagger's edge, against each finger my warm hands would be,
with exhaled breath I tried my best but the rain kept falling and took its toll,
before pastel sunsets untimely death, as thoughts weigh kind, please, think of me
...for I'll be thinking of you.
04/18/2019
He shivers as he steps on the porch,
The sharp icy air gives a certain scorch.
As he steps out from the arbors protection,
out to where there is no affection.
A month or so later,
the boy feels oh so much greater.
The sun shining down,
where there is no such thing as a frown.
But now there is a long process to get from season to season,
and you get tired of Winter's cold and sharp treason.
So as we walk through the steps, enjoy the end of Winter's blast,
just as you did when it began and you said "At last!"
As Winter comes joy fills the world,
as snowballs get thrown and hurled.
The cheer, the bliss begins with a snow,
however you come to remember and know,
that Winter lugs on and on until Spring.
Though not very easy,
we must try to enjoy the breezy and sneezy.
So as the snow melts into the dirt underneath,
people will put away festive décor, trees, and a wreath.
People then change from heavy bundles of clothes,
and on to short sleeves is where the style arose.
The used-to-be snowflakes turn now to dandelion seeds,
flying to and fro, and landing where it needs.
A pleasing fragrant of Honeysuckle, Jasmine,
awhile bumble bees come flying, trying to get in.
Low and behold Spring is in,
while once a year it begins again.
Powdered Sugar Daydreams
Time becomes invisible, ceasing to matter
as this place in all its magic and wonder
blooms upon the gardens of our imagination,
playing like birds on a sky of opal blue, wandering streets of old
Where rising suns on aqua horizons shift,
singing of a new day which is happily part of the prior,
extending beyond any view offered along this rocky shoreline,
as we stroll by delta desires and riverboat reveries
Brick paved streets, uneven but smoothly polished greet us,
a sidewalk table, warm cuppa, green on white awnings,
sweet treats beneath Café Du Monde shadows and tender kisses
within the eyes of all passing, and we without a care
Music fills the square in harmony with our heart beats,
a three piece jazz ensemble plays melodic romance
while your hand, your fingers, tightly hold mine
and I feel your pulse tap out the rhythm of our day
We dance upon wrought iron balconies
above French Quarter bead laced branches,
glistening in purples and greens
of past parades and tomorrow rendezvous’
While jasmine covered arbors bound by geranium breezes
invite us to be one, our love springs forth
in cool waters from passion’s fountain and we find
ourselves lost in powdered sugar daydreams again
Tap, tap, tap on my window, pat, pat, pat falls the rain.
Subdued light filters through the smooth fabric of the curtains.
Low rumbling of distant thunder soothes my brain.
Outside I spy the night garden, the moon flowers beckoning,
the rain's tear drops gently drip from their pink and white petals.
The crimson bougainvillea hugs tightly to the arbors where they cling.
Softly the glow of the moon peeks through wisps of dreams wafting slowly by
casting sanguine shadows, specters of my cloudy thoughts,
the dilemma of the darkness inside of me, the hidden pain I cry.
Lying in bed, thinking, never a good thing to do.
The night seems so endless, so eternally lonely,
lost in my senses, eyes closed and weary, my thoughts turn to you.
What happened, who can say, all that matters is you are not here.
No anger, nothing, like a ghost in the mist you just disappeared,
without a word, without a goodbye, without so much as a tear.
It's been so long since we've spoken, the image of your face slowly fading.
Only your essence remains, your emerald green eyes, the curve of your neck,
your gentle touch, memories of you over time slowly degrading.
Yet, at night, thoughts of you still linger, you seem so distant, so foreign,
but dawn breaks the dark and the garden rests, as do I in a hazy slumber.
Through the fog I see myself picking a flower, a Fairy Iris, for Lauren.
09/02/15
Sleepeth thou darkling,
fade....
How privy thy existence made,
to shade the feathered extremity
thy plumage gave;
a kiss unto pools sleeping
white at noon....
neath bowers in waking rain,
through arbors, dripping and brawn
The black swan returns again,
('tis no shame to love him so)
Seeker of the serfs;
with slow power he fends her,
such flight to beating wing,
to dawn never ending
(seizing watery throne)
Thou art royal among the waters
and scarlet skies make pink
thy billowed white hues;
Little boats of lovers sigh
your white-spirit near
How good omen fosters good cheer ----
How blessed they feel your presence
here,
grace upon the gentle waves
There is black among the pond,
sable Lord from Melbourne;
his speech unruly and red,
Likened his beak with surly scarlet
throngs,
how honest his nature bequeathed
(how darkling his arbors met)
floating in the nestles, watching
with spring-fed breeze
And she to him, a Queen of fair hope:
" Shall I call thee white love? "
said he
Keith O.J. Hunt (C) 2014
TOO OFTEN A COFFIN
I’ve faced the familiarity of faded fascination
I’ve let the loveliness of a lady become unspoken
I’ve examined the exclamation mark of exhilaration
And let beauty allow my blackened heart to be broken
I have haunted harbors and arbors alike
I’ve searched for the most perfect rose ever grown
I’ve seen ships stranded by too many a dike
And allowed lost loves to leave me alone
I’ve cried in crevices of cruelty and brutality
I’ve crawled through canyons so unkind
I’ve negated the nature of negative neutrality
With maudlin memories that mesmerize my mind
I’ve faced the fading of infatuation
And lamented the loss of love too often
I’ve ignored the aroma of arduous ardor’s creation
And have remembrances that will follow me into my coffin
© 2013….copyright PHREEPOETREE.~free cee!~
A November wind has roared for days.
Dead garden stalks lay bent and frayed.
The proud maple now stands undressed
In drifts of yellow against the fence.
Broken remnants lay on the yard;
A scattered blast of limbs’ discard,
And yellow litter in blissful calm.
A roaring November wind is gone.
The crickets have hushed and gone to sleep.
All nestled beneath the barberry.
While snowbirds busy the hedges to feed
Where ruffling winds misplaced their seeds.
Sadly, the walnut has nothing left to shed,
But an ivy still clings in brilliant red.
A rusted barn roof is left exposed
Where distant arbors used to grow.
And chimneys sew their grey, woolen clouds
For the bleak sky wears a sullied shroud.
The curls of smoke gracefully unwind.
As for me, a pensive knot inside.
To see the snowbird’s round, feathered breast,
And to think. Each year uncoils from the next.
Bright leaves that held such hope in June,
I’ve collected to make a sick perfume.
And piled these treasures in a heap;
Now smoldering and weeping in the heat.
I huddle closer to the crackling flame,
Knowing that winter will come again.
By the willows,
where the sun shone gazing,
streaming through arbors hazed,
And apple-cider scents were fermenting,
by a pasture where the tree-people play ----
sits a cottage by the bay
Where the willows weep long to seeking love,
and sway they through will-o-wisps above,
Every evening the mountains moan with mists,
with rainbows upon their darkling tips;
polka-dot rocks along the path....
and always butterfly's about the saplings,
red earth rich from summer moons....
(a cottage there by the willows)
Cornucopia
Trumpet Sounding – abundance Resounding –
A harvest not Empty – a horn of Plenty –
Season bounty Astounding – safe from snowbound Surroundings
Fall Caressing fair autumn Blessings.
Sweet orbs of Green or burgundy Seen
In arbors that Wait grape clusters to Take
Nectars Serene in fermenting Dreams
Dew mists so Fine like sparkling Wine.
Breath of Autumn whispers soft harvest Hymns
Ruffles ripe Fields of grain’s golden Yield
Blades salute skies Solemn - in straight rows, in Columns
Kernel berries grown for Bread - we bow our Heads.
Apples Reside – sweet juiciness Abides
Orchard boughs Seen in ornaments red, yellow, Green
Thoughts of pie Ride as cinnamon delight Glides
Crisp ciders Arrive in jugs and in Jives!
Frosty fall Dells painted in icy Pastels
Leave a transparent Sheen on rambling vines Green
Pepitas in Shells of bright orange they Dwell
In pumpkins and Squash - festive fields Awash
Such flavor Divine – like honey sweet Wine –
Wide bottomed Orbs - sun sweetness Absorbed -
A taste Refined – bliss, sublime, Intertwine –
Pears Appear at the end of the Year!
From blossom Wings nascent in Spring
Sweet surprise Resting in hard shells Nesting
Squirrels seasonal Fling – winter Investing -
Walnuts and Almonds, pecans by the mill Pond
11-16-20
Contest: In Rhymes Sublime
Sponsor: Joseph May