Best Bedecked Poems
Beyond the hills of Auburn
Past the river, through the trees
I found a secret garden
Pretty as you please
A field of red corn poppies
Cosmos and blue bell
Candytuft and blazing star
Bedecked a wishing well
Scarlet sage and tidy tips
Covered a distant knoll
A quiet little gopher
Lies sleeping in his hole
Resting beside a trickling brook
Beneath the weeping willow
I have a bed of scarlet flax
With yarrow for a pillow
Today, I was truly blessed
When a robin dropped me here
You see in any other place
A gardener I would fear
For I am but a lowly weed
That most would only shun
But in this secret garden
I am loved by everyone
I do at dawn, reflect.
God made me, perfect.
Thus, my thoughts to reflect.
Bright with affirmations to collect.
Only positive thoughts to project.
To no friend, coldly neglect.
Just humble be,and not correct,
But to all, show great respect!
And, tis not my place to expect,
But to accept others and protect.
Shining in all their glorious aspects.
Fellow poets with which to connect,
With great poetic talent bedecked!
10/28/ 2021
…1…
Autumn is a woman. Bedecked in gold and crimson, hair
Upswept, serene, she warmly glistens till capriciously shaking her
Tresses loose and imbibing northern winds, she begins to
Undulate, and underneath a streaked
Magenta twilight sky, this loveliest of
Nymphs then beckons you. . .
Rhapsodies of memories not played since long
Ago rise up in you. Old
Passions never quite forgotten swell your breast. Surrendered
To, she can unleash in you. . . feelings yet
Untapped. But all too soon, her
Rhythm, tenuous, recedes, and all who have ever been
Enraptured, must face the old man Winter’s cold embrace.
An oldie
for the 'Any Acrostic of 10 to 12 lines' Poetry Contest of Line Gauthier
It was my first Thanksgiving dinner as his wife
so I wanted the meal to be perfect in every way
But...trembling in fear, I cut my finger with a knife
It was the beginning of a day in piteous disarray
I didn't know a turkey would take so long to thaw
and I couldn't defrost the fat bird in the microwave
Agitated, I was afraid I'd have to serve it half raw
so, I parboiled it a while. My predicament was grave
The cranberries were cooking and started to pop
Then I noticed my sore finger was bleeding once more
Blood fell into the sauce pan; more than just a drop
Gotta serve it anyway. No time to go back to the store
My mother-in-law, Mary Ann, had a smirk on her face
She looks like a wild rabbit, both have wrinkled noses
I bedecked the table in my cloth of embroidered lace
finger bleeding again from thorns, darn those roses!
It's a Murphy's Law day for me cuz I've developed a tic
Face is twitching, but the turkey's roasting in the oven
People bustling in my kitchen. It's a comedy of slapstick
Cousin Benny wants a taste of my cornbread stuffin'
STUFFIN'? NO NO! I hadn't given the dish a thought
Could I make it from potatoes? I've got piles of those
I needed a drink; my frazzled nerves were distraught
Then sozzled Uncle Frank started taking off his clothes
We filled our plates as hubby, Jake, carved the bird
I gasped when I saw a bag of something on the platter
Mary Ann shrieked in laughter and shouted, "My word!!"
I had no clue it was in there. I became the Mad Hatter.
To the kitchen I retreated to ready the apple crumble
A laxative added to Mary Ann's to give her the poops
After dinner she dashed and crashed in a nasty tumble
I smiled with satisfaction and simply exclaimed, "OOPS."
the light breeze
cooled the morning sun
daytrip Venice
had begun
vantage views
from a vaporetto
inch-by-inch
the skyline began to grow
St Marks cameinto view
etched on a sky so blue
tourist scrambled
from the boat
sensory feelings inside emote
ambling along piazzas wide
campanile renaissance
a city's pride
byzantine palaces bridge of sighs
facias painted
in pastel dyes
gothic churches candles ablaze
carvings to draw the gaze
depicted ceilings vivant tableau
golden bedecked reredos
pizza italiano barolo red wine
relax chat then dine
'neath parasoled
courtyard shade
as gondaliers anchor
to quayside arcade
homward along canal grande
below balconies
overhanging sun-tanned
houses emulsioned terracotta bold
kaleidoscopic memories
made manifold
I walk the path amid the trees
Where footsteps of the past have tread
Where ancient stones of Blarney please,
Where lips upon the stone are wed.
My roots run deep with Irish blood
and County Cork's where my folk hale.
There Blarney meets where tourists flood
to kiss the stone below the rail.
Enchanting are the turrets here
bedecked in autumn's vines of red,
the little stream that wanders near,
and steps to where I'm being led.
The Blarney stone at last I see,
so bending backwards now to kiss
the stone, my friend is holding me.
That’s not a mark I want to miss!
I have a thought; I now can say
my mouth has touched where many more
have touched upon this stone of gray.
How many thousands came before?
These ancient walls in ruin stand
With greater hist'ry than most know,
Yet still throngs yield to their command
In visitors that come and go.
Inside the marrow of my bones,
I feel a thrill . Will eloquence
Be mine from having kissed this stone?
I feel a chill of reverence!
For the Partner UP Contest of Shadow Hamilton: Theme: Castles
Finished 9/4/2015 By Connie Marcum Wong and Andrea Dietrich
Fighting mid the strong and bold,
His eye and blade were keen;
Marching like a thund'ring storm
On foes of Faith, his queen.
Now returned in victory
Upon his mighty bay,
Set he off to Langley Tow'r
Her summons to obey.
"John the Squire," the footman called,
And held the oaken door;
Faith, it seemed, had gleaming eyes
Like never once before.
"John! 'tis good to see thee hale,"
The queen exclaimed, and rose:
Tales have sped to Langley's gates
Of many broken bows."
"God has saved me whole and well,
By prayers, I ween, of thee;
Tell me please, my lady Queen
What service I may be."
Saying thus, the squire bowed
And doffed his burnished helm;
Struck in awe by Faith, his love,
The queen of Arthur's realm.
"Gilbert saith," rehearsed the queen,
"That deeds of thee are done
Greater yet than those of Wat
Or even Henry's son."
Tears bedecked her youthful face,
And glistened in the light;
John the Squire, as she had hoped,
Had done her favour right.
"Nay!" the humble squire cried,
"This word is not so true!
How could I, the meanest squire,
Perform the deeds they do?"
"Hush!" It was a firm command;
"I'll hear these lies no more;
Kneel before me, Squire John,
A knight shall leave the door."
Down before the queen he knelt,
He pledged his knighthood true;
Swore her ev'ry small command
With cheerful heart to do.
From his side she drew his sword,
She struck the accolade;
"Thus the greatest knight," she said,
"Is from a squire made."
From her hand the sword did fall,
It clashed upon a stone:
"John, if battle claimed thy life,
How could I be alone?"
"God has prospered all my ways;
My Queen, I praythee, cease!
Soon these wars shall claim our foes,
And Britain be in peace."
Faith remained there by her throne,
With light upon her hair;
Not one maid of Camelot
Was even half so fair.
"God be with thee evermore,"
She bravely said at last;
"Guard and keep thee from the foe
Until the very last."
John the Knight farewell did bid,
And swiftly rode away:
When the wars were hammered out,
He'd be a king in May.
For the Famous Art contest. Inspired by the painting "The Accolade" -1901 by Edmund Blair Leighton.
The light is coming and I wish you well...
Behind the running, running man the land
Lies silent, fallow, haunted by the cry
Of one lone mourning rook who flies alone
Inscribing solemn circles in the sky
There is no time to take a backward look
Just running, running, running, running blind
He leaves the flowered garlands that she wove
With ribbons bright, with summer’s love, behind
He runs with only hope in empty hands
All faint of heart, with life blood running cold
The chill of winter earth beneath his feet
All water turned to ice in frozen fold
All out of breath with minutes yet to live
He runs, through elder grove and stand of yew
Runs, seeking for the ancient Solstice door
Described in tales the bards and ancients knew
‘Till suddenly he stumbles on a glade
All silent where no wild bird wheels or calls
And in the glade there stands a single stone
And on the ground a moon dark shadow falls
And there, within the shadow’s light he sees
That which before him other men have found
A stairway leading down in to the earth
A dark descending path in to the ground
No way but down now, this the only way
He gathers one last breath, and full of fear
Goes down the old and foot worn ancient steps
That lead towards the portal of the year
How dark the endless steps of winter’s stair
That shadow down, down to the Solstice door
To where, beneath the door a chink of light
Hints soft and bright across the cold stone floor
He sits upon the bottom step to rest
Reflect, and contemplate the year behind
And lo, she comes, bedecked in leaves and fruit
And dancing, dancing, through his weary mind
Forget me not, she sings; I am still here
I wait for you, for life to shift and stir
And through the keyhole and the chink there blows
A fragrant waft of birch and silver fir
Reviving, blessing, soft upon his face
The promise of new life upon her breath
Touched by her grace he weeps upon the step
For she has saved him with her love from death
Another year dies, another lives
He sits and waits; she watches from afar
And as he waits the light in darkness shifts
And creaks the ancient Solstice Door ajar…
by Gail
Autumn’s golden gown is falling
Falling leaves carpeting the ground;
Ground bedecked in nature’s splendour
Splendour displayed, beauty surrounds.
Inspired by Nette's contest
Jan Allison
11th June 2015
What autumn has bedecked
with plants, founts and flowers,
in colors of divine radiance
the sun hangs in the fourth sphere,
then comes purple daybreak
beautiful sky brimful with stars,
none can match mi cielo,
the lovely parts of your face!
Your black hair lost in the forest
hands soft and delicate as lilies,
hidden partially beneath your coat
breasts and arms, engirdling your fantasy frame,
stay, elusive shadow of my beloved,
lovely illusion on this soft autumn day
sweet woman for whom I love so sadly,
image of enchantment I love the best...
Today autumn washes gently along the Gulf of Mexico,
I gather cones of pines in yellow baskets,
opening a liter of sparkling red wine,
come mi corazon, in the energy of the Harvest moon glow,
for inside your simple and tender heart
my numb dreams yearn to snuggle up,
just as when the night of autumn starts,
we cuddle like two birds in cozy nests!
Like a bridegroom crowned in crimson,
He rises out of his chamber,
Scarlet circlets round his person,
Bedecked in tangerine amber;
With tears of joy* shed on the grass,
The world rejoices when he comes,
His smile's reflected on the glass
Of each river, as daylife* thrums;
An incarnadine cirque, he glows
From one end of heaven's doorway,
In merry-go-round, he follows
His circuit till the end of day;
The birds belt out ballads divine
When he stirs them with soft caress;
But, he's barely a ball of shine
Before the Sun of Righteousness*.
-------------18.11.16-------------
( *Tears of joy - dew;
*Daylife - opposite of nightlife
*Sun of Righteousness - Lord Jesus Christ )
Beneath the weeping willow
A gentle figure swings
Her dress of white a-billow
While soft and sweet she sings
She sang within this bower
What song I cannot tell
Her hair bedecked with flowers
Blue Canterbury bells
And on into the gloaming
Is heard this pleasant sound
When stars begin their roaming
She lets her hair unbound
Then o'er her form the willow weeps
The night is still -- the child sleeps
Affluent and formal
pink lilies deck the tables;
we await the
sweet, affected
laughter of our friends.
Bedecked in bouffant hair-do's
perfumes, ermines, jewels
brocades and buckled shoes,
we dazzle, yes! We dazzle
with our mirrors, and our decals,
our precious art, and plaster,
exotic candelabras,
but I can't wait to make my
exit to wander in the gardens
and let the scented air restore
my soul
To get completely
lost in moonlight and
fragrance of the night
never to return,
to that balcony, nor
endure, the boring empty twitter
that temporary glitter.
I can barely wait till daylight to
mount my noble horse
and gallop miles and miles
and miles away.
To feel the solid earth resound
beneath his flying feet.
I have crossed that fragile threshold
into madness.
I can no longer be a Duchess
Suzanne Delaney
Through the Mist
It feels like a lifetime has passed since my beloved I last saw,
Bedecked in shining armor, my brave Geoffrey did gallantly gallop,
Riding his silver steed, through a soft silky blue morning mist
That like a tender lover enveloped and amorously embraced him.
Now overtaken by dark despair, silently willing my love to reappear,
Despondently I peer through this most mystifying mist, realizing that
On this fateful day twenty years before, he had unwittingly succumbed
To its seductive allure because man and mist had merged becoming one.
08-21-2014
Long shot prospect
named “Reject Hoss”
bedecked with sweat.
He fell to last
‘till he passed gas
so fast, he flew!
He ran with ease.
At Jockey’s prod,
he squeezed in front!
Forty to one,
odds he won was
pure fun for Hoss.
Inspired by Dr. Ram's Than- Bauk contest.
written 8/6/11