Best Arrayed Poems
Eventide’s misty winds gently oscillate
Colorful clusters of crepe-myrtle flowers
Crowning atop rows of elegant tree-trunks
Blooms lavender, pink, red, and purple
Hanging in air from tips of twigs slender
Bowing to earth, donning green foliage
Arrayed in symmetrical flower-bouquets.
On a summer stroll, my hand you hold,
Gazing rhythms tilting back and forth
Swaying gracefully symphony of colors
As synchronized whispers merrily rustle
Echoing intentions of doting twilight sun
Beholden to season's gift of blossoms.
Gales now swirl, petite petals disperse,
Whirling confetti, drifting dances aerial,
Sprinkling fine motifs of tinted splendor
Twisting, turning, in eve’s amber passion
Flying all over, as we gaze, wooing love,
Where violet-sky above artfully evokes
Opaline glimpses of dreams ephemeral
Inscribed in spectrum on crimson horizon.
Written: March 13, 2021
Placed 6th: Submitted on October 14, 2022 to:
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 17 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Poem of the day on March 15, 2021
Placed 1st: Flower or flowers in imagism form poetry contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Placed 1st: All yours (March 17) by Brian Strand
PROLOGUE
The Flame, aflicker, licks and flays,
illuming evening’s negligees
With braided curls she swirls and sways,
and flits and floats in light ballets
APOLOGUE
A Flame, to conquer creeping fog,
flew dancing towards a random log
Her flight perplexed a leery frog
beside a silent somber bog
The Flame, a ripple, all alone
alit on leaves where birds had flown
The aching twigs began to moan
A rising breeze began to groan
The Flame arrayed an ancient oak
with torrid tongues and veils of smoke
A beaver bailed, the dam had broke
The leery frog soon ceased to croak
The Flame uncoiled and lashed midair,
consuming crowns with utmost care
A crazed coyote fled her lair,
left in the lurch bewildered bear
The Flame, unfurled, went wild and grew,
enkindled cats and caribou
Remaining... not a residue,
as reeking vapors bade adieu
The Flame revealed her strength unshackled
Flora, fauna crisped and crackled
Fire Witches clucked and cackled
One more forest stripped, then hackled
EPILOGUE
The arsonists were well aware
the Flame would travel everywhere
The weirs are gone, the land is bare,
and soon you’ll find a city there
If love could have a color, I suppose
it wouldn’t be just any common shade.
I’d name it for the colors of the rose.
In heaven’s hues this flower is arrayed!
From chaste love’s hush of pink to heady rush
that’s shown by cardinal or crimson red,
the rose reveals the grades of ardor’s blush
unto the time it’s thought that passion’s fled.
But in the tint of amaranth, the fire
endures; in purple deep it can transcend,
while yellow blooms in bliss that does not tire,
and white’s fidelity will have no end.
Though black the bud, a red will grow thereof.
By any other name, the rose is love.
In a crystal vase, a flower bouquet I arrayed:
Iris flowers purple, yellow on its outer edge
Interlaced with a layer of tulips burgundy-red
Beholden to support of emerald green stems
And gracing the center are tall pink rose buds
Warning their sharp prickles not to interfere
With romantic dreams of a budding ruby rose
Unfolding slowly, and revealing just enough--
A mere glimpse at the stares of secret lovers.
You stand there, admiring symphony of colors
When evening sun peeks in, twinkling white crystal
As your smile evokes verses of love, divulging so little
Much like a first kiss, reluctant to say more.
June 23, 2019
Poem of the day on June 25,2019
Placed 2nd: Your choice flower verse contest by Brian Strand
He knew how to turn up the soil and seed,
Before the sun got hot by summer's glade;
And on his lips recounting roses creed
He gently viewed them as they swayed;
Together in a garden built of tweed
A bloom-vestige of grace, softly arrayed;
And as the gardener drank his amber tea,
he thought of roses and he thought of me.
When I gaze far off into the night sky
The chaos is not pleasing to the eye.
Seems there was never an overall plan
When the beginning of time began.
I don’t mean to sound so high and mighty
But the stuff up there’s not very tidy.
Yes, there are luminous constellations
But it needs cosmic configuration.
When figuring out just how to plan it
I started on the jumbled up planets.
It’s not a stretch to say they need sorting
And here are a few things I’m purporting.
First I thought they should be alphabetized
Or at least ordered according to size.
They could be arrayed by number of moons
But I think that’s getting too picayune.
Sure, there is a listing of other things
Like arranging them by their colored rings.
Or by what lie’s hidden beneath the dust
That entirely coats their outer crust.
I settled and placed them by dimension
As said plan will cause the least contention.
Starting with the sun, since that big old orb,
Can’t help but lead; being so self absorbed.
Petite planet Pluto, this time is first
Mercury’s next, then trodden Mars comes third.
After that Venus, followed by our Earth
Which were in that order, now they’re by girth.
Let’s jump up to Neptune, then Uranus
Which happens to rhyme with Ignoramus.
Yes fancy Saturn, you go next in line
Jupiter’s last, since so easy to find.
Let’s continue this celestial tale
By systematizing the scene, broad scale.
We’ll journey further than Venus and Mars
To coordinate the world of stars.
We can array each pulsar by brightness
Which doesn’t interest me the slightest.
Or chart them based on their distances from us
Though why on Earth quibble with all that fuss?
Instead we’ll do what the globe mappers did
And arrange every star on a grid,
We’ll plot a rough draft on large graph paper
Like olden times, by light of a taper.
Now, you can choose a square and stick by it.
Worry free of the old cosmic riot.
Where each and every star is viewed best
Whether gazing to north, south, east or west.
The sky is looking much better by now
And all the skeptics will have to avow.
That once you know how to rework matter
Like here on earth, it’s the size that matters.
Rodents can be loquacious
That includes your average gerbil
They love to prattle, chat and blather
They really are quite verbal
Hamsters are talkative too
Just as garrulous as can be
With running mouth and wheel to match
They are a sight to see
But I am loath to squander words
Sparing usage is my way
I gather them like so many acorns
Against a rainy day
Yes, word collecting is the passion
Of this precocious squirrel
I garner adjectives, verbs and nouns
Be they singular or plural
The park is fecund land
There a plethora may be found
Vociferous, vehement and vex
I lately scooped up off the ground
The verb tree is prolific
Its discovery quite a boon
The other day it bestowed upon me
Flaunt, foster and festoon
All along the sidewalks
Concrete nouns lie strewn about
How blithely I did snatch up
A lummox, a laggard and a lout
To command a better view
I nimbly scampered up a pole
From this lofty perch I spotted
Wheedle, coax and cajole
Away in the distance
I spied a tempting pile
Heaped up for the taking were
Enticing, alluring and beguile
What do I with so much verbiage?
You would be fair to ask
Squirreling away so vast a lexicon
Must prove a mammoth task
The answer lies in my arboreal abode
Where these many words I stash
In alphabetical order they are arrayed
From zealous to abash
In a capricious mood one day
I grouped them by part of speech
Such a cacophony arose from clustering
Banter, badger and beseech
No matter how I sort them
The wasting of words I spurn
Reserved for rarest use I keep
Reticent, laconic and taciturn!
_________________________________
by Brian McClain - Feb 17, 2016
Originally posted Feb 17, 2016
Accidentally deleted Feb 22, 2016
Reposted Feb 22, 2016
Night of Aurora
Dance of Life -
Night of Aurora before the midnight sun,
Before the polar threshold of the daystar,
As Aurora’s swirling spirals flicker
In winsome purple-green electric flashes,
Dappled spectral neon scarves
From nighttide’s celestial dust,
Dance of barefoot soul bewitched -
Arrayed in fiery folds of scarlet-red
Leaps from star to star
When snow buntings chant
Artic serenades with her melody
As silence falls in silver solitude
Of flashing silent symphonies
Across philharmonic fantasies –
Dance of the artic
Beauty in diaphanous neon,
Ephemeral bursts of celestial streamers
Surge from astral pavilions,
Splash in sheer waves of gossamer mauve,
When lavender prisms pirouette
In charged rhapsodies over the fair isles
With sweeping pirouettes
Dance of the ancestors –
Ethereal ribbon dance in cascading rainbows
To tell tidings of sonorous harmony
From those released past the limits of the sky
They wear kaleidoscopes of happy hues
While Aurora dances a tarantella to say
She rejoices too.
11-17-22
Checked the Thesaurus for the spelling of “nighttide.”
Twenty-nine lines of poetry
Contest: Poetry Marathon - Mile 22
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Old Mountain tales of love spin
'neath dawn's blush,
Elderberries, purple ink drop pearls
drawing me nigh.
Ah! Her laughter just like a honeybee’s dance
in the summer’s rush.
For you ignite my days with passion,
'tis morn, a tear I cry
The calm, twilight lingers as her words
soft and low
In the caress of wildflowers where life’s
tranquility forever grows.
O'! Upon thy lips such sweetness dwells
Must be God's design
Born where dandelions and wild bees
forever intertwine.
O', nectar kissed by sun untouched by
human hands
An arcadian panorama of ambrosia
upon my senses' land.
Thine gaze is my beacon in the
moonlit’s silvery velvet light.
You my guiding star ignites
for all my spirit’s journey
O' my soul’s delight
For as a life-alchemists seek nectar
deep in the mountain’s heart.
Thy love's an enchanting lore where peace
like nestling lark.
All the sages sighs, thymes' tempting lore
a beautiful pure chorus
Heather fills rolling landscapes
an untold story before us.
Yes, my love's confession takes flight
with wild abandon
In the sanctuary, a haven bathed
in golden dawn
Thy touch is a sacred psalm
a sonnet on the wind
Radiant grace, I scribe my song
on every blossom's stem
Sunlight filters through sylvan green leaves
just for you.
Thy smile, a warmth that sees my spirit
through and through.
Our love, eternal, untamed by
fleeting space or time.
A taste of heaven's dew
a love of purest and most divine.
Together, hand in hand
we'll stray through life's inviolate maze
Where wildflowers bloom
and hearts forever graze.
No jeweled crown
arrayed in silks and finery
Could display the love, my beloved
I found forever in thee.
For You are my sweet lady,
my songbird
my forever home
My wild mountain honey
where my spirit roams.
In thee, a love unbound
sweeter than sun-kissed dew
My Wild Mountain Honey
forever wild
forever true.
Dawn
In early morning when I rise
Through my window in twilight skies
A lilac sky begins from gray
Descending from our milky way.
When Sol awakens, shows his face;
Delivers magic with his grace
In colors borne from rainbow hues,
My eyes are filled with stunning views.
With trembling hands I hold my tea
In breathless wonders that I see
As blues arrayed from dark to light
Relinquish stars in morning bright
As golden fingers touch the land
I feel the power of God's hand
Embrace my shoulders and my hair
And feel the freshness in dawn's air.
I wait until sweet tangerine
Of tempered eye cannot be seen
Hidden behind the cloudy clime
With thoughts of colors so sublime.
As I begin my busy day
I first reserve some time to pray
In gratitude of our dear earth
In viewing dawn's glorious birth.
7-21-18
1. Paint your horizons happy
A coastline laps with glistening waves
Dotted with light from its shore-bed unseen,
While fragrance of air and gull’s trill filter
Through leafy boughs varnished in shamrock green.
How this breathtaking view warms my senses
Where tinted sands like nuggets of a jade,
Beguile dreamy feet to tap, to tiptoe
On lime stones, pebbles, daintily arrayed.
From fibrils of tides the woven moss rides
That gently, evening drapes the isle with ease
Softer the ripples in patterns that hold
A verdant calm between water and trees
Endowing new March a treasure’s delight
That rails this juncture, bright as emerald…
And I, a lucky charm of this fresh luster
Delight in the gush bearing spring’s reward.
(Get into the spirit and Go Green)
Old/ New Poems Contest, PD Linda
Resubmitted: 3/18/2016
She who sends waves touching beautiful warm and gracious words
Draws bright sunshine smiles in our hearts as they sing in her grace
Flowing from the heart her beauty held in her Quill ready to write
Pure diamond sparkling rainbows as a true friend is a friend in deed
The tidal wave raises fine soaked sand from the bottom of the ocean
And the waves curl out pearl white reflecting a most Picture Perfect
Image that is truly splendid and always sublime to behold and cherish
As Nature’s soft wind caresses your aura and inspires your next poem
She who sends these very waves touching beautiful personifies a Muse
So rare, so special—and brings her influence and talents to bear in
Masterfully supporting the efforts of fellow poets and dreamers as they
“Spill Ink” on blank pages late at night crafting their next poetic masterpiece
The very power and wonder of her good works and positive influence are
Always there magnificently arrayed like pure beams of sunshine touching
And dazzling all in her reach quite profoundly with the magic of her thoughts
And the quiet courage of her convictions as the simply wonderful poet she is
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem (Free Verse Poem),
November 26, 2014
NOTE: Written in Honor of Anne-Lise Andresen for Her Fine Poetry and For
Her Continued Professional Support and Encouragement of Other Fellow Poets.
You asked me for a dance one night, ’twas late one New Year’s Eve,
and as I held you in my arms, your shape did wend and weave;
a sudden kiss as midnight struck (I thought it make believe) -
for stars and kismet ruled with zeal our lives would interleave.
I give to you the morning sun to dance within your smile
a flower wild amongst the stones upon a rocky isle
with hidden paths in ancient woods where we can walk awhile.
You lead me by the hand through nights into the waking days,
through swinging gates in mirrored walls and through the midnight haze,
through castles built in sandbox realms in children’s yesterdays.
I give to you a ragged doll, a puppet on a string,
a ride upon a rocking horse, a swallow on the wing,
a ribbon trailing from your hair, a red or scarlet thing.
You whisk me from a valley deep wherein a black wind blows,
and tracks upon the empty trails are hidden by the snows,
to share with me your secret thoughts and steal away my woes.
I give to you a silver flute, a whistle on a chain,
a drummer boy with dancing feet, a sugar candy cane,
a window flushed with foolish tears mid pitter-patter rain.
You lead me from entangled streets inside a circus town,
subduing smoky memories that haunt this wistful clown
by quelling plaintive melodies and sorrows that they sound.
I give to you a penny plain to cast upon a dream,
a streaking star inside the sky, a bridge across a stream,
a teddy bear with tattered ears and berries dipped in cream.
You show me how a rainbow lightens distant liquid lands,
where dew drops paint the purple leaves deserted on the sands
on roads of simple wonderment within your slender hands.
I give to you in winter’s chill my ragged scarf of thread,
a dripping ball of candle wax on fire blazing red,
and offer you this smitten rhymer’s loving arms in bed.
You spin me tales of laughter, yes, of laughter on a spree,
of laughter restless in the sky, of laughter running free,
of laughter dancing, skipping wildly far beyond the sea.
I give to you these careless words, arrayed in broken lines,
adorned, my love, with tempest winds and teardrop salty brine,
in cups of youthful passion steeped in desolation wine,
and promise I’m forever yours... if only you’ll be mine.
An Autumn Portrait of Beauty
On this quite beautiful and most radiant Autumn day,
I marvel at Mother Nature’s smile of silent pulchritude,
As I make a loving glance at such luscious scenery today,
In this country scene—a glorious gift of God’s certitude!
The trees and their fallen amber leaves adorn this Earth,
As a shimmering reflection pervades from a green pond,
Of Nature’s wonder with colors arrayed in a sacred rebirth,
Affirming God’s heavenly promise true and His holy bond!
This view of trees, grass, leaves, and a shadow near the pond,
Captures the glory and grace from God’s colored-palette a true,
That affirms His desire of rendering this beauty from beyond,
And I thank Him from my heart with joy and blessings so true!
Yes, God doth paint this world with such love for all to see,
His Autumn portrait here is of unparalleled artistry and grace,
That I interpret as a heavenly-made moment for all of us to be,
As I reaffirm the beauty of Nature’s gift in this wondrous place!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
November 6, 2015 (Rhyme)
Author’s Note: A special tribute to a former classmate.
the box of Crayola’s has fallen to the floor
like pick-up sticks they lay, crisscrossed
and I without a partner or a pair of jacks
rolled paper named & swirled in ink of black
periwinkle and puce displayed
side by side the candied rainbow huddles
like children whispering at play
lilac and orchid cuddle
see the rusty red and the crimson lay
grin and giggles surround the paper pages
as the parents are kept at bay
lemon yellow is the sun
and saffron the flower in the bay
pink the fingers which grasp and pile
the colors so arrayed, by the fallen box
of crayons in the golden light of day
4/12/14