Best Archways Poems
Boated through the tantalizing Kerala backwater
in a pleasant summer morning;
Coconut groves were adorning
our way and perky fishes were chased by river otters
Cacophony of the swaying lofty coconut trees
and the nearby evergreen plants
produced a mesmerizing chant
that certainly consoled the chaotic minds and appease
Majestic banyan tree with its spiraled pillar branches
enthralled the endemic birds
and the migrating animal herds
on the river bank, renovated the place into the ranch
Suddenly the boat entered into the hollow way
where tangled trees made archways,
and fallen flowers filled our pathways
welcomed us, it was such an unforgettable day
Reflections of the slender palm trees on the waters,
painted a flawless picturesque picture
with the kaleidoscope of colors and mixtures
Which was untapped only in the perpetual back waters
Coots and cormorants swiftly plunged into water
When they heard the sound of the boat
Tranquility of the place calmed the hysteria
and it led to the apocalypse of worldly emotions
Sep-9-2017
POTD on Sep 11 2017
I was so happy and I felt so blessed as I received this honour on the death anniversary of my favorite poet Mahakavi Bharathiyar.
My Childhood Home
My lovely childhood home, I miss it so...
built Eighteen Eighty-Six, so long ago.
Three floors, all rooms with mantled fireplaces;
carved woodwork, archways, spindled winding stair;
cathedral ceilings, sparkling chandelier
in dining room enjoyed on holidays.
Third floor not used but built with parkay floors
and doors that opened to small balconies.
Off the front door, a porch wrapped 'round two sides...
was like a fairy tale when I was young.
Such lovely grounds; garage with two horse stalls
and covered sleigh with velvet seats of red.
White gravel paths with gardens either side;
the rolling lawn, majestic tall pine trees
and rippling stony brook below the hill.
My childhood home fulfilled my childhood dreams–
so happy there with my dear family.
Until I married, it was home to me.
And since home now is not too far from it–
I often pass the site of my old house.
On left, before I pass under the bridge
that sprawls across the Hudson River now–
the empty view brings sadness to my heart.
To build that bridge they tore my old home down–
the only house to make this sacrifice–
The vision of my childhood home is gone.
As I ride by I feel them wave to me...
the ghosts of past, and my dear family.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Enchanted House
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 05/23/2016
~1st Place~
Contest: A Child's First Home
Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker
Judged: 10/17/2015
Note: Newburgh-Beacon Bridge was completed and opened in November 1963
New York State claimed our home via eminent domain and purchased it in 1960
Trumpets resound through the archways
spilling out onto the ancient cobblestone streets
pulling me closer with every upbeat note
into the direction of the tropical seaside cabana
My old weathered tan top-siders tap
these old arthritic knees start to sway
yellow and blue lights rhythmically flash
sprinkling the festive dance floor with color
Exotic couples captivated in a Salsa or Mambo
heating the night up under a refreshing breeze
the view out over the veranda is breathtaking
as the orange-hued sun dips over the horizon
A lone sweet princess longingly looks my way
adorning the most elegant flowing azure dress
our eyes lock, a vision of loveliness in my sight
sundrenched beauty dance with me tonight
I do not wish to keep you small
Within a tiny vest pocket
You my dear
You reside within the chambers of my heart
A place so large God's spirit lives here
You walk through the archways of my mind
Whispering sweet sounds to my inner ear
Your essence oscillates through my soul
For I am you and you are me
Without you
There would be an infinite sadness
You and I were made for eternity
You are the realization of my dreams
The symphony of my joy
The gift I could not fully imagine
I marvel at the wonder of you
Thankful
Set free
You are with me
Residing
Within the chambers of my heart
Softly so softly you whisper....
as soothing ocean waves
drawing me to you.
ablaze with all who you are
loves pure light.....
loves pure essence
your never far away....underpining.
Heartbeat of my heartbeat
it beats to you....my pure breath.
Holy, the ancient of days
centuries past and present
you say....come to me my child and sit awhile.
I do so need to sit awhile.....
Whispering tenderly deep within....be still.
You crashed into my shore
the day your sun shone through my stained glass window
with so much love.....
scarlet on scarlet.....sharp shards you scream....forever
sealed with a kiss....you carved each name on a tree
you whisper.....loved...
me 4 you and you 4 me.....eternally in your book of life.
Safe in the bosom of your being
the enclave of your heart
the emerald city of your love
I am warmed from the radiance....the radiance of your love.
Held.....holy.
Lost in sweet communion....deep
I linger....time ethereal
singing holy...holy....holy joy is mine.
beneath the archways of your precepts....
my delight...heaven and earth entwined
taking me higher....one with you
soaring....soaring....free.
Our lives living tapestries
blazing golds intricately woven
light reflecting....
colours run deep....
rich....rich deep hues....
light emanating
Sewing beautiful gems of understanding
those colours will shine eternally.
You pull through and bind burning red spattered cutting deep
that dont make sense, you know.....you know.
sometimes it seems dull golden
along with the sahara frayed edges....nothing is lost.
You have changed my song forever
alive with you...spirit of my spirit
eternally yours I shout.
Elegant intoxicating ballroom, with polished marble floor, archways lining the walls rising to the ceiling in mahogany trim. Candle holders with lit candles between each arch to match the elegant enormous Swarovski crystal chandeliers glittered brightly above them, to a brilliance of the evening ball. The fragrance of perfumes, colognes, and fine cuisine fill the air.
The ballroom is full of singles and couple, wearing their finest long gowns, and tails, their white ties and gloves, dancing to the music of the orchestra while others feast on desserts and champagne.
My Prince stands with the other gents waiting for me to make an entrance.
I’m anxious to show off my sleeveless flowing gown, made out of white silk chiffon, embellished with lace and scattered pearls. I feel like the belle of the ball.
My Prince comes up to me and ask, “May I have this dance.” He fills my dance card, reaches out for my hand, and leads me to the dance floor, while my heart is beating faster than the music. The orchestra starts playing a slow waltz, the intoxicating turning movements and the one, two, three, steps of the waltzing speed brings intimating pleasure of ecstasy that is hard to ignore.
The evening comes to an end and my Prince walks me to the door and kisses my hand Goodnight.
11/24/2014
Sandstone frames make
Glittery dreams from heaven
Windows to the sky
alluring moonlight
revealing nature's archways
ominous cosmos
1st amendment atrocities
Secondary nature
Pound for pound
They scream above holy lungs
Of righteous contradictions
As humanity continues to dry-hump “social” media,
Their sedentary psychiatrist
Judgmental lip smacks
Chapped from the arrogant vowels
They spit
Another syllabic lyric
Within our home of the “free”
Our 50 stars become 50 irrational assault rifles
In order to become bullet proofed
From infantile validation
We embrace rusty excavators
Crushing on Bones wearing red sweaters & silky moustaches
While MBAs & Bachelor Degrees
Fight in Spartan-tempered mouth-offs
If a dress is blue or gray
Donkeys & Elephants become consensual orgies
In the name of desperate prayers
But, neither will raise taxes in the name of God
For church & state are separate
Until dollar-store woven baskets made in China swoop in
During Sunday mas(k)s
Stairways to our imaginary heaven,
Its railing removed by forced epiphanies,
Replaced by “angelic” archways
Made of Kardashian silicone
And rose-tinted ascension
Yes, we can.
Yes, we did.
Yes, we fell.
We. Must. Change.
©D.J.E.
Close my eyes to paint a picture
Takes me back to a time when I was just a kid
The world around me was ever growing
And there was a sweet innocence in everything I did
The morning sun was my simple smile
Her warm words whispers on my skin, and
Red says the sunset, red says the sunset
How I needed a friend
To share in this happiness
That I thought could never end
The city was my playground
An enchanted land everywhere to explore
Abandon buildings, hidden places near rushing railroads
Giant puddles extracted from all of thunder storms
Rainbows, archways, paths leading to front doors
And red says the sunset again every day
Red says the sunset come out and play
If I could only go back
To lazy days lying, amidst the talling grass
Jumping daringly from rooftop to rooftop
Befriending minnows, frogs, crickets and crabs
Climbing trees, skinning knees
Teaching myself about fire from only one little match
In every noon it was huge, it was
Watching over me
Red says the sunset, red says the sunset all over again
In childhood I never found that needed friend
But, the little boy still journeys on
Now as a husband, a father,and God fearing man
Red says the sunset, red says the sunset
Happiness shines all across this land
The Accoutrements of Knowledge
The accoutrements of knowledge
had crept into his life, overtaking it.
No more did he sit and think,
idly allowing nuance to shade gray
the black and white of learning’s
playful inconsistencies. Old books,
manuals, manuscripts, texts,
subscribed to journals, cluttered
his encroaching space. Old thoughts,
ideas, dreams, brainstorms and brain-farts,
waited – holding numbers – lost in
the labyrinth of slumbering genius.
The need to learn, the drive to succeed,
had seduced him, lured him into the
netherworld of concrete minds,
set in their ways, confident of
their credos. This hell of blindly
accepted dictates emanating from
a “think” tank, this babbling of banal
benediction, this forced worship
of the mindless by the thoughtless
had dimmed the beauty of the sunrise,
muted the music of the spheres,
closed the eyes of the seekers,
pulling the wool of doubt over them.
So he left the trappings of the pedagogues,
fled the archways of academia,
sought a clear and simple thought -
An endeavor not unlike the search
for an honest man. His goal was not
to think but to experience thought,
not to memorize the dance steps
but to experience dancing.
They said that he had “burnt out”,
lost his focus, succumbed to the stress.
Now free of the encumbrance of the
accoutrements of knowledge, he was
free again to seek, to follow, to be
conscious of the sound of his heartbeat,
the rhythmic surge of his pulse,
the shimmering glow of a dappled sunrise.
He would learn from all about him,
study the art of the mud daubers,
the construction of the beavers,
listen to the songs of the lark and sparrow,
answer the call of the coyotes,
taste the bliss of the bee hive honey.
He learned – no books can teach you
the scent of dew damp grass at dawn,
nor recreate the harrumphing solo
of the lead bullfrog. Nor could they
explain how the dragonflies dance
varies from the butterflies ballet.
And so he thought. How and why
had he constructed a barrier of
knowledge that frustrated his
search for anything else?
1/24/2015
submitted to – Any Poem Written in the Year 2015
sponsor – Laura Loo
Years ago, in a big transition in my life,
I witnessed three rainbow archways.
Framed by sun-kissed red apartments,
The setting sun kisses goodbye to the cloudless sky.
I took a picture then, between the runs from my old home
and my mother's car. Glistening brow and squinting eyes,
I raised my phone, holding it horizontally, 1...2...3.
I remembered an old meme about double rainbows,
but I found three. Back to putting cardboard boxes into the car.
The pictures were blurry, unfocused, and slightly fuzzy.
Like a memory, from one phone to the next,
The photos get transferred. Until one day, I've lost them.
I hadn't a guess where they went, lost to time probably.
Now I have slightly fuzzy archways to remember within.
One archway for the home I'm leaving behind,
Another for the latest transition to my new life,
And the last for the future I do not know.
A rainbow, a rainbow, a rainbow
Three distant rainbows I have no proof of, oh well.
I need only to remember to ensure they don't fade away.
Iniquities vertical archways
Traversing twilights retro
Drafted abysmal shadows
Aneath the roses bush...
Coloured acrylic murals
Acidics transcending
Medievils vague ambulant
Abstract mystique ?
Embellished cerium
Charcoals as that of gothics
In vitro; masque'd
Achromatic architectural
Envisioned designs...
Gomorrah's holistic
Gargoyles; a black plagues
Overture amid, Nefarious
Nepenthes, garden of her eden.
Naked Beneath the Robe
Would you have us all dress the same?
Coerce us into believing it is our favorite outfit,
influence the tide of fashion down a one way street.
Would you limit the words available to us?
Deny us the colors needed to create a rainbow,
leave us with only a corridor of grey archways.
Would you dull the scents of the garden?
Filter all aromatic wafting breezes,
blinding the butterfly and the bee.
Would you drain the sun’s reflection from the pond?
Refuse the gentle wind the courtesy of ripples
to validate its presence in its passing.
Would you force the spring morns birdsong through a funnel?
Squeezing from it the hope and joy of sunrise,
silencing the trill of tree filled benediction.
Would you shape all of the clouds in conformity?
Obscure the passion of their sky dance,
frustrate the imaginings of life.
Would you still the ghosts of shimmering mist?
Foil the fantasy of fog’s embrace
quiet the eerie silence of the marsh.
Would you hold as good, or bad, or wanting,
the heavens as they seek horizons touch,
obstructing sunset’s ruby passion.
Would you tear love’s passage from dead parchment?
Erasing words imbued with writers soul
to ease the fear of your unknowing heart.
Would you judge without the fear of error
confine the beauty of all essence
condemn without compassion’s edging doubt.
Submitted to – Any Poem #31 – Poetry Contest
2/23/2015
The cottage with its black window frames and white pebble dash glows in the
summer sunshine.
The hum of the lawn mower can be heard cutting the green lawn dotted with
dandelions and daisies.
In the orchard the blossom is on the fruit trees.
We have apples and plums
Summer snowflakes flowers around a tree with their heads bowed in
sunshine.
Butterflies and bees dance amongst the shrubs.
Forget-me-nots are scattered around the cottage gardens.
Candles are laden on the horse chestnut tree.
The birds are calling that summer is here.
Dad's wood that he liked so much, is green.
The trees with their leaves and branches create archways as you wander
along the paths.
The wood is still and quiet, a place to reflect and remember dad.
His sculpture is next to the summer house.
Bluebells underneath the canopy of a tree.
Summer will turn to autumn and the garden will have lots of memories.