Best Bay Window Poems
He told me he loved me.
It was winter and snowing.
We walked on the street.
In a suburb, what a treat.
Houses aglow, Rudolph outside.
I wanted Santa there to go
for a sky ride.
Mom had her pink flocked
tree in our bay window glowing.
He kissed me then, I hoped
my blushing was not showing.
That does seem, like centuries
ago.
That innocent kiss, so blessed
by the snow!
It was so crystalline and pure
as were we.
Kissing so sweetly,in front of
Mom's pink tree.
The years are gone, so is my
Mother, like her!
Oh.no, there shall never be
another.
God, eventually, calls us to our
eternal home.
Where happiness and peace do exist
and we never want to roam!
4/29/2021
Tossing on my rocking chair,
In pitch sable dark of the night,
Where no stars shimmer in the sky,
Waiting for the early morning light.
The bay window is clean, with a wide scene.
Would the day reveal a land with woods so green?
Occasionally the moon penetrates
The heavy rainy murky clouds,
As moonbeams glimmer over oceans.
Happy the dead dispersed of crowds,
For behind lay a cemetery full of snow,
The North wind will never stop its blow.
I was left alone in the spectral scene.
Alas lonely and abandoned by all;
Or do I see a faint silhouette on a moonbeam
Gliding onwards toward Autumn and Fall?
Ah I cannot see the golden leaves fall gently,
Now I’m in winter with nothing to protect me.
In the intermediate zone between heaven and hell
opinions and complaints, after much moaning, may
come to be held in common.
The way a flock of chickadees
moves through the woods, cheerfully,
each bird taking a turn on point.
All meaning must be found, here, in the middle zone,
notwithstanding fears that rend and own us,
of dying unknown.
A Spring day
the flycatcher broke its neck against our bay window
nothing changed.
I buried it, somewhat reverently, in a shallow grave.
No differently, really, than I would a man
who'd died suddenly.
Who'd left footprints in the snow
which became wild lily-of-the-valley, running pine
then snow again in time.
After long enmity
Sally hugs me, asks if I've been happy.
A moment in a year.
February, the light is long, more direct.
It's meaningless, repetitious
but held dear.
Something's changed, I don't recall this door.
The mat that once read 'welcome'...now gone.
Am I lost in the night, or had I forgotten some slight..
had my address been quelled by another time?
The new curtains in the bay window seem nice,
though..not the deep blue highlighted sash you fell for.
And on that foreign floor, a sweet Labrador lies napping.
Not the lightning fast hound rescued from the shelter.
My key's jingle, so hollow in sound, questions me now..
whether I know left from right, right from wrong..
Two boots waited, under an unfamiliar porchlight,
neither I recollect as my own..
every sunset I knew seemed to've gone.
I stepped back from a stranger's stair, perhaps deceived by my own eyes..
retracing my tired steps from the long day, to the oak in the yard,
was it always that tall?
Surely the messages you left would offer a solution from this lunacy,
a chance at a door opening, inviting me, lovingly from this nightmarish scene.
But they had all disappeared.., save one.
Staring hollow eyed into the dimming display's abyss, I read the last will..
your last thought retraced..in taps' mournful horn.
The air in my lungs abandoned me, my shoulders suddenly
weighing so heavy, in a torn and bloodied uniform.
Somehow the night sky was no longer mine to share..
absent your side, shaking my head in my hands..
my God, how could it be?
The door and locks changed, the porchlight rearranged,
the blue curtains went too,
The scratch of toe nail's click clack.. nowhere to be found,
even the dog was removed.
Turning away from the lawn to the long sidewalk, oblivion my companion,
I laughed out loud at the fool and folly and future that lie in store.
There's a fine line between truly belonging.., and only being,
bitter lesson learned at a strange door..
Finally saddeningly, maddeningly.. it dawned,
why everything was tipped on its face.
Your last message, echo'd in my broken mind..,
'you've been replaced'.
`
From a weary weathered beach
I watch the sunset fade
beneath angry wintered seas
drowning possibilities
of another moonlit night
washing up on shore
and still I go on,
for what calls can not be heard,
it must be felt…and I feel it
Vivid reflections falter
atop a jet stream
heated from below, chilled from above,
willing feats of great wandering
when raindrops licked old wounds
and footprints
became yesterday’s puddles
Forgotten mariners,
ghostly silhouettes
cling to ancient dreams,
shadows swimming the deep hollows,
elusive treasures swallowed
by the disturbed mire,
swirling in slipknot patterns
and anchor chains apparitions,
as I now brace against a frigid wind,
traversing dunes
and snow fence barriers,
heading towards the light,
a flickering lone candle
left in the bay window,
a signal that her love
still awaits,
and my heart warms
as I approach the beauty
I have so longed,
on the other side of
a blue weathered door…
. 11/21/2023
Lord, please do, let us have a kindly dream, of a peaceful holiday.
To realize the value of poets that we know,and also.unknown.
We refuse faces of negativity, to humbly walk in your ways.
Please remind us, please, to go to the light,where thy glory be fully shown.
I realize that not all of us have a family to sit down and have a dinner with.
So poets, light your candles to make this confused world, radiantly bright.
After dinner, go to the draped, frosted, family, front bay window, or forthwith….
God will have created a soft, Thanksgiving, snowcarpet of pure white!.
From~Pangie and Elena
Rustling blades of ruby float on my front lawn,
gazebo flooded with gold and chartreuse leaves-
I sit at my bay window, in awe I fawn,
Autumn's pure beauty comforts and relieves.
So much more than summertime perceives.
For hope is found in Autumn’s crimson tide,
the summer has ended with no time to spare-
Inviting mother nature as our precious guide,
no other season created could compare.
I bow my head and say a grateful prayer.
Saffron skies float over the rising sun,
the east is full of grand medallion lights-
My daughter jumping in the leaves for fun,
then roasting marshmallows on chilly nights.
Autumnal marvel bestows splendid sights.
September 19, 2019
Chantelle Anne Cooke
Fall Into Fall Poetry Contest
As I sit in my rocking chair,
I must have fallen asleep.
My bay window shows effects
of the dark night, thick black clouds,
no moon to shimmer over the far sea.
Occasionally flashes of lightning
lit the panorama in front of me.
I was confused wondering
if I was dreaming. For truly
outside was a storm brewing.
Suddenly rain fell, hitting the panes
of my lovely bay window.
I love the rhythm of the falling rain.
Behind me, the fire crackled
Sending its heat to warm me.
No this was not a dream as I heard
The sound of footsteps coming
Up the stairs. My wife was late.
Some emergency at the hospital no doubt.
She bent low and kissed my forehead.
I realized she was drenched in the rain.
I urged her to have a hot shower.
"Only if you wash my back," she laughed.
I needed no second invitation.
And let me assure you, my friends.
This was not a dream.
Fiction
The rain that had been falling all morning had dissipated
but dark clouds still covered the sky.
For some unknown reason she glanced at the clock
and noted the time
Simultaneously the clouds parted
and the sun streamed in through the large bay window
Filling the room with light and warmth
It only lasted a few minutes then the sky clouded over again
An hour or so later the phone rang,
“Great news.” Said her daughter, “you have a great grandson.”
“He was born at 1:26 pm precisely”
1:26 pm precisely,
when the sun had streamed into her room.
He brought with him sunshine, that boy.
as his twenty two years have proven.
As I sat in my living room
On my cozy big fluffy oarnge
sofa chair, sipping on a cup of
steaming chamomile tea, with
lemon, perched on a yellow porcelain
saucer, and while daydreaming out the
large bay window with chantilly lace
beige curtains... I viewed the funny face
full moon amongst a black curtain of night
time sky. Twinkles of light sparked my
thoughts to invite the light of the moon
inside my soul in order to transform my
spirite into nothing but kindness and compassion.
The moon accepted my invitation in exchange for
blessings and prayers.
Over the pine trees the ball I threw
Neighbor’s bay window the ball went through
My neighbor asked me if I would?
Come over to his house, split a cord of wood
In the woodpile see the chipmunk pray
I do not want to be the Bald Eagle’s prey
From the woodpile a gagging scent
A payment my neighbor’s skunk had sent
The queen of birds Sari dear lived in the mango tree
I asked her to come down and take a saree from me
She asked wide-eyed the price of it
I said,”Sari, you’re a cute tweet”
She made faces, chirruped short, and flew to the next tree.
A saree is a South Asian female garment that consists of a drape varying from five to nine yards in length and two to four feet in breadth that is typically wrapped around the waist, with one end draped over the shoulder, baring the midriff.
Sari came down and sat on the bay window
‘Dad’, she said,’ you must chain the devil Frido’
“He is a gawky brute
Just now he ate up a coot
He needs your boot and a slap on his credo”.
Sari tweeted my wife” O mom, don’t pinch my behind”
My wife re-tweeted,” Sari, You are not of this kind”.
“Sorry to say you have no proper bum
So, Sari, how can I be a pinch bum?”
Sari re-re-tweeted, “Mom, a lie, my bum is twined.”
Sari came one day with his creaky husband Suk
“Dad, teach Suk a lesson, he must know how to cook"
"Sari, my darling, you’re a sweet fraud
Don’t crook Suk’s head with a teaching rod
Better teach him how to fly by hook or by crook"
Sari, my daughter, in mid September, gave birth to a girl
She was a ball of furry delight, eyes were pacific pearl
I said, "Sari ,you are now a mother
So you must not be antsy like other
Sari hugged her child,said”dad, no worry, she will be a whirl"
Rosemary's Bed
Maylands Salvation Army, Girls' Home
I am in the entrance foyer of a large house.
The wood floor is highly polished.
There is a large stairway with a turned, wood bannister.
Dad is telling my three year old sister and me
that we must stay here because
he has to work and can't take care of us.
Mum has gone away somewhere.
THE MATRON takes our suitcases and *smiles* at us
instructs us to, "come with her".
Dad says, "he will come and visit us every Sunday".
I am taken to a dormitory and told which bed will be mine.
The bed on the other side of the fire place
belongs to Rosemary.
Our beds skirt, either side of a fireplace
that is midway along the wall, with rows
of beds on each side of it,
as well as opposite,
twenty beds in all.
At the end of the room is an alcove with a curved bay window.
There is a bed there, all by itself.
I can remember being so scared in this room.
The older girls told me, "there is a man with an elastic arm"
who lives on the roof
and, "he can reach down the chimney and grab you".
Although I didn't really believe it, a few nights later,
we were all woken by a piercing scream.
THE MATRON came down to investigate.
The girl who slept in the bay window bed, said,
" a man with a monkey's face" jumped on my bed.
THE MATRON searched everywhere inside and out -
we saw her flash light beam- out there in the darkness-
her report was, " it was nothing." -
probably one of the cats that lived in the wood pile.
I always had trouble sleeping after that
and after lights out -
although it was strictly forbidden -
I would creep across and climb
into Rosemary's bed.
Although her bed was an equal distance
from the fireplace as mine
the human warmth and contact made me feel safe
against unknown forces of the night.
I slept on the edge of nightmares until, finally
I left that place.
Suzanne Delaney
From- Rememberances of an 8 year Old.
For Frank H..... I recall.....Contest
My house has a bay window, quite special
It overlooks my great flower garden
Beauty shines where the moon carries along
No piece of the flowers is a burden
Nightfall enlightens the flowers out there
From the bay window I can see the light
Touching the flowers calmly and with peace
I sigh with contentment to view this sight
I finish my drink and turn to go back
When I glanced right at some fireflies around
I smile at this beautiful scene with joy
The whole picture is a wondrous surround
Russell Sivey
Wakening, I sense it’s a day not ordinary.
To the large bay window in my front room I’m drawn.
Lovely flakes tumbling from the sky I see.
I crack the door and feel the chill and still of dawn,
and peace descends on me like the snow that blankets my lawn.
In that winter’s morning hush are beams of brilliant light.
They sparkle, dancing on tree boughs hanging low.
How beautiful are they, all feathered white!
Along the lane, before a strong wind starts to blow,
I’ll go and walk serenely on the newly fallen snow.
Written Dec. 2, 2011
For Francine Roberts' "English Quintain contest Poetry Contest"
For Brian Strand's ONE FROM YOUR LAST FIFTY POSTED ON PS
any form/theme max 14 lines Poetry Contest