Best Assemblage Poems
As I stood in my garden amongst my flowers,
a parade of blue butterflies was drifting;
past my lovely brilliant primrose rock garden,
they kissed a purple cornflower growing.
They stopped and caressed rainbow painted daisy,
drifting over to drooping bleeding hearts;
resting on white campania with their trumpets,
like sparkling garden gems quietly hovering.
Blue larkspur and columbine called for them,
the tiny rubies twirled over in a waltzing dance;
and between yarrow, sage and yellow tick seed,
they spotted echinacea and came fluttering.
Floating on over they kissed orange scabiosa,
then the assemblage of sweet butterflies left;
just stopping for a quick sip of fountain water,
and gone this parade of fluttering blue gems.
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August 11, 2015
Poetry/Verse/"Fluttering Gems"
Copyright Protected, ID 15- 699-038-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Submitted to Late Summer Premier Contest
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
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Submitted to,Any Poem Written in 2015, Contest
sponsor, Julia Ward
Third Place
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Submitted to, Butterflies Among Us, Contest
sponsor, A Skat
Fourth Place
Categories:
assemblage, butterfly, flower, garden,
Form:
Verse
What is it that our
vaunted intellect supposedly conveys?
That benefits the air and sea,
summits, life and
broad expanse of land?
Now
Suppose that we
at some stark moment
vanished one and all—
adjoined by all
matter and assemblage from
our forced and plundered reign?
In absence then of everything
we pillaged and proclaimed
would air be rent
by thunderous noise
of mighty rivers
returning to their courses.
Resumed the growth of forests,
near vanished and forlorn,
and healed all the
wounds and scars
that marred
Earth's sacred skin.
Then floating in the
cold and barren void,
this supernal sapphire jewel:
eternal haven of
innocence and peace.
We would not be missed.
Categories:
assemblage, peace,
Form:
Free verse
Oh how this bodice is dressed in taffeta,
Lined with hundreds of lavender pleats
Spiraling, drooping, whirling
All over my voluptuous contour …
Bare these limbs grinding on soft moss
To tap among rustled displays
From many a lovers’ heat to children’s romp.
I gaze at my long tresses hung by threads
Of July frills, combing the strands
Delicate as clusters in a spin that ignites
The evening air, the lush of daylight’s vine…
And like Kojin in a free-fall prance, I cascade
Through a mantle of grass, my arms floating
Over wisps of mildest pink, of boldest lavender;
Then to curtsy in a prayerful Shinto bow
Under heaven's marquee where my chants
about lonesome tales are hushed in secrecy.
At nightfall, stars circle my lit frame,
The aroma of wisteria's mint huffs
outside my pores and unto an earthy glow;
Young the nippled buds swelling in lusty dusk
Till I gently writhe as a mystical shadow of the woods.
......................
SPRINGTIME STANDARD CONTEST
~ The wisteria tree is packed with an assemblage
of purple blossoms, falling in tapered clusters
to symbolize a kneeling pose of honor and devotion
based on Asian folklore.
~ Kojin: Japanese Tree Goddess
Categories:
assemblage, beauty, imagery, tree,
Form:
Personification
on my-
diaphanous gossamer filmy cloud-
sumptuous I float woebegone
flowers far and below
and bluebirds come
fluttering in the azure sky
twittering and its
beautiful
gossamer filmy cloud-sumptuous
the gobbledygooks with their nonsense
far and below
and bluebirds come drifting
from the garden and forest they fly
to
my diaphanous
gossamer
filmy
cloud-sumptuous
the dullards with their yada yada
far
and
below
come with their hokum nattering
and I
yell hey you
get off my cloud-
sumptuous you you
nincompoops
bluebirds
twittering and twittering
beautiful
assemblage of fluttering
whispering hissing
with meaningless words
you keep off my diaphanous
gossamer filmy cloud
oh gentle breeze
take this dreamer and flower picker
of buttercups violets
dandelions
I see them swaying far and below
in the meadows lovely
and I recall the little girl me
who picked them
for mothers kitchen ledge
oh let me drift and see far and below
on my
diaphanous gossamer cloud-
sumptuous
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May 28, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/my cloud
Copyright Protected, ID 05-677-907-28
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Hey you, get off my cloud
sponsor, Skat, Judged 2015
Second Place
Categories:
assemblage, bird, garden, peace,
Form:
Free verse
lavender florets
sway their hems to a gold wind...
as
queen bee jiggles
aisle of lush gardens
invite morn's jaybirds on flight...
coo
cooing sweet tunes
dew bathes newborn plants
evergreen their christened ribs...
from
heaven's blessings
such bright assemblage
displays lush April's glory
when
spring thrills charmed hearts
MYSTICS SPLIT HAIKUS Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose
4/10/2016
Categories:
assemblage, celebration, spring,
Form:
Haiku
/I\
~a branch
snuggles it tight,
messing ivory ringlets
while beneath the orchard,
grayish cones on iced moonlight rips.
Winter now bears her dry skin, as children
romp around a frozen trunk with boughs gleaming
like crystal tassels. Nippy a fir which quavers through
whiffs of glacial air : the assemblage of leaves
falling through hardened snowflakes...
Quietly, new moon brightens this view
Crowning its frothy head on an evening
where owls
trembling
dizzily on
its twigs,
hoot low
eyes wide;
until the tangy scent pervades
long after evergreen slumbers on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12/6/2018-- Revised
Shape Contest for Eve Roper
Categories:
assemblage, image, tree,
Form:
Shape
I stand-
gazing at the weathered door-
beautiful the knob is old brass
foliage dark and green
protects it
an assemblage of butterflies
lilt and move musically all about
fluttering and it's
lovely
at the weathered door beautiful
and I look behind me at the whispering
foliage dark and green
a labyrinthine of twisting memories
a long path strewn with tears
woebegone and sorrowful is my journey
as I
gaze
at the weathered
door-
beautiful
and the knob of old brass beckoning
from
foliage
dark
and green
that protects
and I
step forward to open
but tangled vines
cling to me-
around my legs and arms
holding me back
and butterflies
lilt and flutter musically
a beautiful assemblage encouraging
and the past
is whispering and hissing
surreptitious
of a manuscript written
where I languor listlessly and weary
oh the murmuring memories
that hold me locked in the past
my journey to the door a struggle
but oh I love them the memories
each one
weeping I must break free of the tangled vines
of the past so I take each beautiful
tendril off each clinging vine
and lay them gently on the ground
with a kiss
and step forward frightened and quivering
placing my hand on the old brass knob
and
I open that door
the weathered door beautiful
protected by
foliage dark and green
and step through
that assemblage of butterflies
flutter musically through the opening to
a lush and green sumptuous beginning
and I follow
them
into a future
mellifluous
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June 18, 2015
Free Verse
Written for the contest, ...And then I opened THAT door.
sponsor, John Lawless
First Place
Categories:
assemblage, future, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
As I stood in my flower garden,
a gang of blue butterflies came drifting;
they kissed a tall purple corn flower,
then, stopped to caress my painted daisies.
Fluttering and twirling in a waltzing dance,
between my yarrow, sage and yellow thing growing;
they stopped for a quick sip of fountain water,
then, the assemblage of blue gems floated away.
_______________________
March 27, 2019
Categories:
assemblage, butterfly, garden,
Form:
Verse
Frisky, gray squirrels scramble
Beneath a massive, old oak tree
Gathering the best acorns they see
Their fluffy tailed, lively damsels
Opossum wobble on short legs
From their laurel sheltered lairs
Toward the thickets where there’s
Vast bugs and spiders in their webs
Gentle, soft haired rabbits assemblage
Onward, seeking out grassy fortresses
Where they might discover tortoises
And additional special kinds of foliage
Black and white stripped skunks
Bob out toward their furry friends
Reassured they will make amends
So they will help them over tree stumps
Russet colored raccoons with charming features
Searching for their favorite pine tree expansion
Scrambling up through the long branches
To havens above all the other creatures
Big, black bear grumble through woods so eerie
Checking all around for beehives or cherries
Hoping to find a bit of honey or sweet berries
To munch on before the weather gets dreary
Tan and bronze deer clamber up cliffs that deliver
To the meadows where they’re stopping together
To chew long grass and weeds found whether
They make their trek toward the gently flowing river
Forests are thriving with these unique beings
All the different beasts living there from across
Pine, oak, birch, locust, laurel, fern and moss
God’s gifts to us who love this place so pleasing
Categories:
assemblage, animal, environment, nature,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
Everything falls to pieces,
as the reality of my worthless existence
dawns on me.
So I crawl;
to that empty space
I call my mind.
To hide from the world
that wishes to
prick,
prattle,
and probe
until there is nothing left.
Except for me,
and my insecurities.
A endless assemblage
of dreams and regrets,
that have led me
to believe -
THERE IS nothing left.
So as the last tear flows
I only hope,
tomorrow will be
a little less bleak,
Without Me.
Categories:
assemblage, death, depression, hope, sad,
Form:
Free verse
--------
Another streak of blazed discovery
tumbles upon this month's vanishing ember,
that I gaze at an abandoned coastline
washing off this season's tanned mist
with August dimming its flame:
An assemblage of blossoms poses to reveal its paling watercolor tips
bending like petioles of goodbye,
air- smoked by evening 's approach:
I feel the minutes pass in quick response...
where a different flavor breathes to
change the raw tempo pervading through
this season's reign, lusty and free--
Another cycle heralds a call, and yet
it cannot be the end of summer...
my heated fields are still aflame,
this mouth hungering for passion kisses on nights of fire--
The thrill of a sizzling landscape remains unfinished
when rosy summer lingers on my mind...still.
Categories:
assemblage, august, goodbye, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
Listening, reaching for the Ideal,
her wanderlust- devoid of fear
Seeking the truth-
The Mother- crying for a thousand years
Of all the pain
Inflicted-
They are killing Her in every way
Carcinogenic ants raging wars
Creating immortal scars,
Killing Her giving heart-
She cries... FEW know
But She shows me the way
"There still is a place,"
the Great whispered in my ear, "of where hush and lull
still abide.
Free of the stinking, free of the rapists and killers
of My apportioned Nature."
So I listened and became raptured by the picture
She bestowed upon me;
A placidity, a serenity of depth and white
Where the pines yawn
And the constellations are radiant-
She begged me to try;
"Live my beautiful, faithful child
In the place of virgin
left only because THEY
cannot abide by it's harshness"-
"But YOU", she sang, "can consort with the beast and
the beauty to make all One, As I die
In all other places-
I leave you this small piece of Myself."
I screamed to her- Crying-"But You, knowing of All- giver of All
Why abandon Your post?"
"Because The cancer is burning My eternal flesh into
nothing.
Only I am no longer eternal."
and I understood- and I followed her lead
Now I stand in a place known to few,
To Her, to me, and to the silent melody
Of Wildness and White
My eyes filled With joy as I heard Her caring moans
singing to Sister Moon -
Through an assemblage of wolves,
as She winks at me through blue, pink and radiant emerald
eyes...
I know I am home.
Honorable Mention in Mac Mcgovern's contest "Your Best Poem".
Categories:
assemblage, adventure, natureme, me, cancer,
Form:
Free verse
My feelings are mosaic,
scattered and multi-colored.
There is no set pattern in the artwork
and no meaning in each separate pane.
Only the whole surface memorable.
Each shard of broken mirror
reflects a parse of the whole.
When pieced together the total vision,
though tattered, comes into clearer focus.
Reflection, a study of the conscious.
Moments of time tell no tale.
Vignettes of a larger tome
monopolize space that holds no fullness,
no revelations of intensity,
dramatism, lyricism, poeticism.
I demand everywhereness,
unbound illimitedness.
Totality of my essentialism
wherein I exist in absoluteness.
my assemblage as a full complement.
Quanta on quanta. Wholeness.
Unequivocally me.
Categories:
assemblage, i am, identity, me,
Form:
Verse
The arrival of spring greeted again and again,
Each day at the awakening of twilight,
With the songbird’s sweet refrain,
Much to the morning glory’s delight.
But their unmindfulness of this date
Is not shared by the assemblage of students,
Who at this threshold proudly wait
To see the matter formed of their prudence.
About this matter now we ponder-
Marvelously formed in equal steps,
Such that candidates stand and wonder
How to hold it within their precepts.
Then with thoughts of the Most Sublime,
They see skinless, boneless sheep
And know this matter depends not on time,
And begin to fathom that providence is deep.
So through the threshold they step in line,
Equally spaced to receive that common reward.
That matter assembled by the class mind,
To which they now march in cadence toward.
Fully aware that they enter the edifice
Made by the creator of the universe.
They are deemed holy by academic sacrifice
And set free to practice arts diverse.
Categories:
assemblage, education, imagination, religion
Form:
Rhyme
He flies unhurried, gliding on gigantic wings that glisten with gold,
Proud and bold, courageous and beautiful and powerful;
Above in an azure sky, fluffy white clouds are drifting by,
His lustrous feathers are sacred and spiritual to Canada.
He carries his kill snatched from a frozen tree with his great talons,
Bringing his gift to his home on a cliff above a raging river;
The massive nest, an assemblage of branches and grasses,
And from this mountain perch he can see everything.
The fledglings were born a few days ago, white and helpless,
His mate is tending to their needs with motherly care;
Although he is usually silent, he is calling to her with high shrills
They have been mated to each other for twenty-three years,
And he comes graceful, swooping on the nest of branches,
In this remote, undisturbed and protected sanctuary in Hudson Bay;
Where they glide and breed and dance in the sky without fear,
The Golden Eagle is a beloved treasure to all Canadians.
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October 3, 2015
Verse
For the contest Golden Eagle, sponsor, Shadow Hamilton
Fourth Place
Categories:
assemblage, bird,
Form:
Verse