Best Assortment Poems
Are Flowers for Picking?
I question myself,
silently standing beside
the quaint wooden kiosk
in the centre of the square.
My eyes scan the freshly
picked assortment of roses,
carnations, lilies, and orchids.
The array of colours tempts,
softening niggling doubts
arising from tender pity.
I enter the hospice, briskly
making my way to her room.
Her haggard face lights up,
slightly masking her fragility.
A wan withering rose…
I swiftly hide my pain
behind a loving smile and
the fresh flowers in my hand.
-------------------------------
Placed 1st in Brian Strand's
Pick 1 Contest (April 2020)
I attended a large gathering and took some time
to observe the great assortment of shoes stacked on the racks
I saw new shoes, pricey shoes, and shoes not worth a dime
and shoes that seemed to have crossed many paths and tracks.
I saw dainty sandals and flighty high heeled ones too
I saw sporty sneakers and rough and tough trainers
I saw both the laced and the leathery buckled shoe
Then I saw the humble yet hardy pair of slippers.
I saw pointy shoes, furry shoes and flatties as well
I saw flowery ones and those studded with trinket gems
Some stacked neatly in pairs, others thrown about pell mell
Some recently repaired, some coming off at the hems.
I saw long boots, rubber boots and
there were glittery Indian styled stilettoes
I spotted fragile glass sandals and metallic brass sandals
and soft comfy ones for comfort of feet 'n' toes.
And while I was thus lost and engrossed
in watching the great assortment of footwear
The old caretaker, to me, a cheap pair tossed
saying, ' here's an extra pair if you've lost your shoes.
She was too busy and distracted to be in my shoes of muse
So I'd to slip out thinking of some quick excuse
She didn't even notice I wasn't actually barefoot
So I had to take them elsewhere, both my muse and my boot!
Ah, and long ago when once we could afford only a 'shoestring' budget
I once hadn't enough bucks to replace a worn out pair of shoes
I was sad for not having even a good goody two shoes
Then God showed me a wayfarer's shoeless pair of barefeet
and then one hapless one with no feet at all!
So I could imagine life being in their missing shoes.
(Footnote*
Wonderin where I saw so many shoes off peoples feet? Well, in our religious gatherings say for prayers in the mosque hall or even the religious lecture hall, we've to enter barefooted and sit down crosslegged. So that's where you come across all kinds of shoes on racks provided in the cubicle.
Actually in the Disney movie, 'THE PRINCE OF EGYPT', i marked that even Moses took off his shoes before talking to God.)
In a province exploited
by prejudiced seasons,
a minority ebony rose
is taunted by prominent
i v o r y l i l i e s.
Biased blossoms ridiculing
tones of its charcoal petals,
yet blooming in the same
quilt of soil as each other.
Soothing raindrops
never discriminate though,
as scents of petrichor
fuse with floret elegance,
nor does the sun only shine
for the privileged,
as all flora sunbathes in
the passions of its rays,
refreshed by the same
migrating gentle breeze.
Scarlet beetles
munch upon lily leaves,
whilst aphids suck
upon rose sepals.
Creepy crawlies
unconcerned with
a p p e a r a n c e,
massacre and spread
like an epidemic.
Until the arrival of
feathered immigrants,
who feast upon an
assortment of morsels.
In any garden,
birds care not for
whom they sing.
They defecate on all flowers,
aware all will wilt eventually.
Winter frost oppresses
regardless of culture,
so birds flee.
But, when roses crumble,
they re-emerge
fresher and brighter,
as their red thorns remain
protecting their right
to flourish freely under
fresh blue skies..
F O R E V E R
All around us are flowers, varied.
Beautiful in tinge and tone.
Combined, they create a marvelous show,
Dazzling the eyes and pleasing all senses.
Earth is never left morose in shades of grey.
Fancifully spreading colors on a wide palette,
God has created an assortment of blooms.
Honeyed they are with a heavenly aroma.
Imaging them into different forms,
Judiciously God has juxtaposed them with a mix of hues.
Kaleidoscopic they thus remain,
Lifting and levitating us to euphoria,
Mesmerizing and hypnotizing us.
Nature’s beautiful bonanza gifted by God!
Oeuvre of the skilled craftsman,
Plethora of paradigms of inimitable art,
Quaintly adorning and decorating,
Radiating cheer and joy in us,
Spectrum of colors that sway and dance,
Tickling our senses and taking us to fairy lands.
Umpteen are the flowers that surround us.
Verbena, in bunches of pink, white or purple
Water lilies of pastel, white and lavender shades
Xanthoceras in gorgeous yellow or white clusters
You and I can only be breathless spectators,
Zombies inebriated in beauty and loveliness.
It's up and down and twice around
With an ample side of snark and leeks.
And an assortment of lies divided by pi,
To find this thing I seek.
I searched my bedside dresser
In the hope to find it there.
But not to be, so I was forced to see
If it was in a box beneath the stairs.
The box was bare and empty
Which did not aid in my relief.
As i was lo' to explain, why it no longer contained
My most cherished held beliefs.
But I digress and that aside,
I looked beneath a bedroom chair.
And where I thought... my valor ought,
I found just a wisp of empty air.
Undaunted by this troubling news,
I remembered a desk that I had bought.
Where I found a mortal slice of wasted life
But still no sign of what I sought.
So undeterred, I left the room
To explore the very nature of my soul.
Where I was forced to roam with no one home
And found just a bigger hole.
I then paddled through my memory
To bring to bear both time and space.
But the fog of age is a paltry sage
And would not expose its hiding place.
I remember not too long age
When It had been my ardent guide.
I'm not afraid to tell, it had served me well
With no providence denied.
But with many years of gross neglect,
It had become a shadow of my past.
And something so grand without a plan...
Is never meant to last.
So my search proved vain and fruitless
But I attempt to soldier on.
And in my despair, I turned to prayer
To question where my love for life had gone.
The End
*Dedicated to those just having a bad day.
*I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's Your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day or so.
Kids Love For Animals ( Poem )
Children’s favorite shows are of animals
I have hours in a playlist that are laughable
Like a camera pecking rooster and fun monkeys
To a mom and a baby miniature donkeys
Videos of wild turkeys and charming geese
Ducks in water and chicks learning to speak
Dazzling ostrich and many free birds
Some you would not want to move towards
A large unique animal is the alligator
The total opposite of the caterpillar
Camels and alpacas are tall and exquisite
But they spit at you when you try to visit
There are also hornpout and catfish videos
and a painted box turtle that is really slow
Beautiful miniature horses and elegant ponies
Border collies herding sheep to earn their trophies
Little kids pig scramble is stunning to see
and a little fawn as precious as can be
Cow’s hair that needs braiding is fascinating
With the most assortment you’ve ever seen
Come to my view with me youtube channel
If the kids are being hard to handle
Just start it up and walk away
To get your housework done for the day
By : Doris Anne Beaulieu
At : https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLWSq_PMWxD9q2V0UVqzX50Y6Y2pDaKISv
She slipped into the single’s club,
where an assortment
of horny guys and lonely hearts had assembled.
Some were there hoping to find that "special" someone
and some had come to chase away the blues,
tinkling ice in cocktail glasses soon to be refilled.
Others, who might be labeled commitment phobic,
had simply come to case the place for an easy lay.
Swinging svelte, mini-skirted hips lasciviously,
she strutted over to the counter
on legs that looked their longest and most shapely
from being hoisted on high red heels.
Every pair of eyes was trained on her.
Some in the club gawked
with eyes that hid beneath mascara-painted lashes, flitting envy.
Others leered with pupils dilating lust
from ogling the two soft protrusions in her tight white turtleneck.
Then with pink champagne in hand,
the goddess turned and surveyed her audience,
most of whom by now had looked away.
One remained, mesmerized, with eyes riveted on her.
He quivered when she caught his gaze
and strolled over to where he sat.
As she approached, he marveled at her face -
the chiseled cheekbones strong and high,
the dark eyes, luminescent and immense,
and curiously, an upturned nose so delicate
it seemed almost too perfect,
like one acquired from a sculptor’s hands.
He gulped when she asked him for a dance,
and as he asked this intriguing lady’s name,
he wondered at the timbre of her voice,
so provocative and low as she tossed dark brown locks
and said seductively,
“My name is Lola. L-O-L-A , Lola.”
Inspired by an old song from the 70's and
used now for Skat's the Premiere Contest number 10 Poetry Contest
love
i used to think it was measured
by the depths of one's eyes
the swells that formed
when blue turned gray
a cloudy day
with the taste of
warm summer rain
rain
how i loved to feel it
splashing against my face
washing all my secrets
into the puddles of mud
that looked dirtier
than i felt
feelings
i never knew they came assorted
like gummy-bears and rainbows
i only knew one
but i learned it well
learning
i guess you taught me well
i could out run fists
and fits of rage
while not only talking
but sassing back
like some spoiled teen
teens
i remember mine well
loved the color red
and how it dripped
in finger-paintings
on half-slit wrists
now riddled with scars
scars
yeah, i have a few
more than others
but who's counting
except
when counting
one's last breath of air
air
i loved to feel it
warm little breaths
kissing my cheek
in the height of day
but at night
i hated the exhale
it fell too often
like me
me
i guess i never knew love
not until you were gone
from my life
life
seems to blend
differently now
in an assortment
of colors
i never knew
existed
existence
means
no longer liking red
Lets get personal Final poetry contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
O the harmonious hues of summer,
June blossoms make this garden lovely;
A bewildering wild assortment all growing,
Poppies pop, irises ripple, daises and pansies sway.
I so love to wander,
With all the murmuring;
Rows of bright delightful colors,
Hovering pink peonies and red roses.
Lilac's like a soft mist of mauve,
And what an excellent retreat;
Purrs her majesty, the grey cat.
___________________
June 1, 2015
Poetry/Verse/June Tapestry
Copyright Protected, ID 15-678-861-0
ALL rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted into the contest, Late July 2018 Standard,
Sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
sunset explosions
wandering butterfly swarms
windblown rose petals
bird populations
animals of many kinds
autumn leaves swirling
prestorm dark gray clouds
the world assortment of fruits
bouyant rainbow skies
The love song echoed
Among the picturesque hills.
They laughed despite their shrill voices.
Trees tremble as leaves fall.
Golden Autumn was approaching.
Still, all is fresh and alive.
Above, clouds rushed among the dark purple trees.
The whispering leaves, the humming breeze,
As large geese flew towards the south.
Yet robins would not be left behind.
Whilst Dunnocks used their song
As they asserted their dominance with their mates.
Yet suddenly, the sky darkens, threatening,
The two lovers ran toward their sleek car.
A timeless dance of pitter-patter
The rhythm of light raindrops gave them warmth,
They had prepared a delicious assortment of eatables.
Then switching up their radio,
Left the vale and drove into the broad thoroughfare
Towards their cosy and spacious house in the town.
My Favorite Things comes to mind...
a random assortment, a jumble of words
a quotient of portions, quotidian served
quixotic strivings of the great deca-dense
obscured in meaning, eschewing all sense
visions and nightmares and hallucinations
erudite arguments, odd fascinations
old geezers fondling memories of things
most folk would not to mixed company bring
inchoate ramblings of damaged young minds
bubbled through water and cardboard box wine
audible groans from the web server host
these are the ones make me giggle the most
shouting in vacuums, a riotous void
pontificating, or mildly annoyed
grieving, believing, or weaving a string
virtuous outburst that don’t do a thing
rants about orange man and all his mean tweets
and, yes, “Let’s go, Brandon” to make things complete
guns, poo, abortion, yes, all are discussed
sometimes the thin-skinned bail out in disgust
side by side, posting, the sage and the fool
the wise in their youth and those starting to drool
bleeping our excrement down on the page
somehow it all seems to soften the rage
when the bard shouts
when the muse screams
‘bout covid or Vlad
we’re at a computer
with just poo to fling
and that makes me laugh a tad
There is nature all around us
Nature has many objects
So many trees are around
All an assortment are seen
In the forest a river or stream
It divides the forest in half
Logs on the ground long and short
Scattered everywhere on the ground
Many dead trees still standing
Do we hear the dead trees falling?
Birds in the trees nesting their young
Owls hooting from above a branch
Hikers followed those paths
A narrow path leads somewhere
There is an abandoned log cabin
Dilapidated soon falling
The vision of colors
Words that intensify with every varying assortment
When it comes to spectacular, it’s the amazement in what is to come, and what was transcribed
Beauty in every letter in what they provide
Suppose with no oppose
Every thought captured at the right moment of the angle
A Poet composes every night within
Sometimes bright stars or nightmare element dialog
Imagine fireworks surrounded by the dazzle Poet with their own writing explosion
Explosion
The mind with on a river in mine capturing all the components of delight
Picture the Poet like a Lighthouse being a guiding light
Expectation beyond
Fireworks after fireworks
Preparation and detail
Poet on sight
Get ready for the writing explosive night
No look up just a hook up
Razzle and Dazzle
She found some mementoes stored in a box
before the new owners came to change the locks.
An assortment of items almost forgotten
now partly hidden under protective cotton.
The items were in her late husband's dresser;
reminders of the days when he tried to impress her.
Some old coins, a yellowed program, a dog-eared ticket;
her memories stirred and for just a minute
husband and wife were united, if only in spirit.
Two soulmates: one on earth, one up above,
linked by ephemera, but forever in love.