Best Bedeck Poems
seagulls surf the wind
my escorts home
across the waves
streamlined gannets
sacred isle in view
saffron tints
ocean flower breezes
with scents of heather mingled
island essence
rites of spring
frolicking hares
scattering morning dew
eagles flying high
above the pagodas
sharing with angels
spectral in shadows
castle walls in moonlight
white stag foraging
eloquent landscape
shrouded in mists of time
stones with stories
ears pricked on full alert
deer transfixed in morning mist
ice cracks the silence
snow on distant hills
wind in ancient rowans
new stars twinkling
melting ice
slips down stippled bark
weeping cherry
beyond the twisted gate
flag irises bedeck the shore
beloved playground
fragile and fleeting
foxgloves in summertime
granite enfolded
exotic rhododendrons
sumptuous and alluring
bumblebees besotted
by the waterfall
dippers watching
trickle or torrent?
rhythmic shoreline
ageless slumbering hills
touching paradise
music for the soul
the lilting of the seasons
an Arran symphony
home again, my soul refreshed,
pilgrimage complete.
with Arran heath beneath my feet,
content- and feeling blessed.
Her Eyes, Pools Of Promise Under Bright Stars
Her pillars of flame,mounds of firm delight
naked her beauty,wonderment at night
she a goddess,mankind truly desires
radiant heat,pleasures scorching fires
maiden of youth,true princess to behold
dreams of sweet memories,when one is old.
Her lips, tantalizing and rosy red
gift of passionate joy,in lovers bed
she a queen that offers hope to mankind
born of romance,a rare jewel to find
maiden of youth,true princess to behold
dreams of sweet memories,when one is old.
Her sexy charms,in glowing moonlit scenes
fantasies to bedeck a young man's dreams
she a vixen,sweet as honey and wine
a fruited dessert,ripe upon the vine
maiden of youth,true princess to behold
dreams of sweet memories,when one is old.
Her eyes,pools of promise under bright stars
Mankind's treasure,when her true love is ours!
12-28- 2019
To one who’s name is written in the faint perfume upon my neck
Your hands gently tend my landscape with their caress
Each and every flower, you gracefully bedeck
In the richest warmth of your undress
You move your morning breezes into the darkness of my night
Until I no longer know the season or present year
Time is of no essence within my sight
Of warmth or cold, I have no fear
To one who’s name is written on every single line of my heart
In your ink flowing from the radiance of our eternal sun
Your hands tend my landscape in a world apart
Marked on a calendar of none
The cares of life, waft into silent pieces as they come to light
When your morning breeze moves upon my flowers
Each one you tend with your hand’s sight
Forgets these cares of ours
To one who’s name is written in my eyes as my master gardener
My flowers will always seek the ink flowing from our sun
My landscape will be your garden harbor
From your breezes, I will never run
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
Miasma Ripening
by Odin Roark
The chaff of greed
Feeds the consumer-compost,
While urban disquietude
Marches in lockstep.
Decomposition rages…
Choked roads of sunbaked gridlock,
Spider web into house upon house,
Creating cubic-waste upon cubic-waste,
Richer,
Poorer,
Fancier,
Shittier.
Drive by Reality…
Poor eye the rich,
Rich eye endless wants,
Avarice-bloated ticks of debt
Cruise side by side,
Beamers in the middle lanes,
Teslas in the fast lanes,
Phony nails,
Phony tans,
Corporate coffee,
Frilly coffee,
Strip mall yoga,
Storefront Scientology,
Think it…
You can buy it.
“Parade” the operative word…
As flesh and blood window-mannequins
Masquerading as humans,
Bedeck themselves in ugly clothes,
Garish clothes,
Supplied by the ever-surging China.
Just as toxic denial continues,
So too the enslavement’s rising stench,
Its ripening enticement lingering,
Its seductive aftertaste addictive,
Oh, so addictive.
Dead, dying, devoid of life, in deathbed of stones*
The trees roots twisted around each pebble and are they
groaning with the want of water, to re-incarnate living.
This forest of a tree* stands tall against life.
Yet nearby is a tree
Green leaves bedeck its branches.
The shell looks like its holding back the decay of time?
Feeding it with the golden yolk that brings eternal life*
Do these trees portray life as good and evil?
One life is stoned and left to die
Yet another is green and full of living
Protected to live as it desires.
Penned on 7 September 2014
Your will, your hand
The will is might, if you have mind.
Walk through miles and God you will find.
Bedeck your life to soothe and bright.
If you have mind, the will is might.
Nothing is “can’t”, without your hand.
Your hand by nature is armed hand-
Empower to rule--- rule out “shan’t”.
Without your hand, nothing is “can’t”.
©A.O, 2014.
The sun dappled patio
irresistibly beckoned
pillowed pad to bedeck
cement spongsbob
square pant sized couch cushions
leapt into field of view
as a posse able a gent
provocateurs silently
conspiring as from
azure heavenly vault sent
thus busying mine hands created
simple bed to cradle this loner meant
as temporary escape from cares
and concerns of uncertain world rent
asunder by craven, frenzied, intractable,
lamentable, offal, rogues hell bent
on up-ending peaceful co-existence
across terrestrial plane where decent
folks (including this writer) live
to enjoy simple pleasures
donned with raiment
acquired thrift-store or yard sale couture
affordable dollar, quarter or cent
thus bagged belongings
comprise wardrobe
since personal preference
to expand content
of body, mind, and spirit triage
in tandem drinking warmth
of solar rays event
like manna to this *****Sapiens,
who when basking
pondered where time went
and on picture perfect summer day
pastoral symphony of nature lent
removed bifocals
to let photons of el sol
this archetype
laughingstock wannabe
of Clark Kent
unaware spouse surreptitiously
snuck up perhaps
to steal a kiss or other pent
up animalistic call of the wild,
which elements of huss style
anathema to a convent
where such nun sense
would be abominable,
but secular mores fervent,
especially when
weather fires imagination
as witnessed by 59+ year spent
mortal male oblivious
to presence of wife
until she planted buttocks and bent
bifocals camouflaged
by matted materiel of a fold-up
metal chair which accent
of Gluteus Maximus crushed
side of frame wear
sole pair of spectacles dent
dislodging right side lens thus
to see in sharp focus
cheeky fate did prevent.
Rubies, sapphires, and emeralds, gems of such great worth
Gems beyond price and beauty from the bowels of the earth
Sought for and dreamed of, fought over and even died for
When all said and done just pieces of mineral from mother earths core...
Placed in gold and platinum settings, price beyond compare
Stored in vaults to precious are some, but still bits of mineral to be fair
Reds and greens, blues for sure, these gems stone are beauteous things
Nothing says I love you more, than gemstones set in golden rings.
For me these beauteous bits of glass that bedeck the bodies of some
Bought for gifts and treasured always, these little baubles of fun…
The best gemstone of all is ‘adamas’ or unbreakable from the ancient Greek
But it’s the qualities of this superlative gem, that is what I seek...
Its superlative physical attributes mean, it’s hard beyond compare
Allotrope of carbon spewed by volcanoes, and it is still rather rare
This gemstone which is a diamond, and guys this is the best surprise
I don't want even the remnant of a diamond, just the glint like diamond of love in your eyes…
© ~GG~ 2/10/2012
'Tis that time again to bedeck the tree with decorations!
Untangling the string of lights is one of my annual frustrations!
Naughty words are said but when all is said and done, you'll,
Happily declare that sans a Christmas tree it wouldn't be a Yule!
Placed No. 9 in Kim Merryman's "Here We Go A Caroling" Contest - January 2013
FOUR SEASONS (lanterne sequence)
May
breezes
in the trees
High summer
lightens
long
Fall
tints red
Autumn's stall
Asleep,winter
acts as
dead
QUATERNION (free verse)
Ah, Spring come again, the
warmth, the rain, yellows and
green.Grass, winds, blossom
bright,showers of life aloud in
the sky
Then Summer, her
beauty displays.
All nature in
flower, eye-catchingly dressed
to attract; then mellow vistas
bedeck the view with largesse,
bountiful Fall’s into our arms
to sustain our sleep in quietness
of Winter’s cold indoor nights
For Debbie;s Metamorph contest
Had some lonesome soul not wrecked,
and fortune never let preclude,
to disrupt this butterfly effect,
then, in this world I'd not bedeck.
When fingertips are rough
Connect them with the wire
And let them freely slide and twang
The resonate supplier
The frequency transpire
And waves that flood the room
Do soften roughened fingertips
When audit’ries abloom
How sonic muse do plume
So disregard the stage
It’s in your hands, it’s there and then
Embittered and assuaged
The opened spruce-wood cage
And canvas to bedeck
Do welcome roughened fingertips
To dance the wiry neck
Form:
Its over and over well done
Blown bridges over blood vessels we've sunken
Hieroglyphics elaborate on our wedding tomb, we yearn
And like so many before, ashen lips bedeck our urn
There's no love lost between our petrified hearts
In separate spells we've cast our parts
And so this dry necromancy has ran a four course
Desert anyone? Blind these eyes to our own faults, devour the corpse
--------------
Yes, I'm back!
Desert is spelled like that on purpose ;D
Form:
Hallowed Eve's, shuttering fright fest
Stealthy alias proffer lest
Ghoulish mavens chicanery manifest
Dupery, duplicity your mettle to test
Your makeup, clothes carefully screen
Bedeck your mask with orange and black sheen
Your collar coif, your black hair thoughtfully preen
Flowing cape with crafty folds wean
Avoid witches cold, steely stare
Her hexes and hoaxes beware
Stewing kettle with potions laid bare
Bubbling toxins your host will share
Accept your meager fare
Consume your rancid nightmare
Then quietly from my craven lair
With your jouls and remaining wits pare
How do I smile briefly, and turn my head,
Answer questions, make it light
When every mention fills limbs with dread
But I can’t descend to expose the fight
I’ve created a hardened, coarsened outer shell
That moved on quickly, barely cares
That faced the world, and shall not let dwell
The inside creature, who not well fares
The collapsing, sobbing, wailing woman inside me
Cleaves to the floor, pulls it close
And her clawing, fighting fingers wrench me
Begging for but a lighter dose
And her haggard hair spills about her bare neck
And tears left black tracks to her chin
And a torn, worn dress her bony shoulders, bedeck
And her wrists… oh she is so thin.
So the tempest calms and, quiet now, she lies
In the cavernous, bleak, echoing hall,
And you could look to the reflective surface of her eyes
As she’s wound in so tight a ball
For these eyes are repeated outside and in
Haunted with misery, aching
But unreachable is the outer shell’s twin
As one of them stirs, waiting.
Form: