Best Befitting Poems
Gleefully you and I smile from a scenic window on life
Enchanted by nightfall befriending quixotic autumn sky
Embossing crimson brushstrokes on vermilion arc
Akin to a painting in classical style of renaissance art
Parading in front of our eyes on a thrilling train ride,
When orange glow of sinking sunset playfully smiles back,
As we savor shrimp-creole with red wine in the dining car
And train-tracks beneath us rhythmically clickety-clack
Negotiating the panoramic curves befitting forested lands
Announcing the mighty reach of whistling train-horn,
When the half-moon above peeks through twinkling stars.
Balancing gingerly footsteps we jaunt back to our roomette
Settling in on narrow bunk beds in a tiny modest space
Marveling the red, brown, golden foliage trickling outside
Falling on multi-color motif carpeting the misty grounds,
As engine screeches intermittently, braking, slowing down,
Screaming loud whistle-calls, approaching station stops.
We endeavor to sleep until dreams invoke beauteous dawn
Awakening to thick white clouds of dense morning fog
Slowly giving way to glorious sun-rays piercing the forest,
Where cheerful robins dance upon a long leafless branch
Welcoming marigold sunrise on the horizon’s blue path
As you and I reminisce in the whispering night of romance.
October 24, 2019
HM: Strand special by Brian Strand
From Atlanta to Washington DC on an overnight train
Categories:
befitting, imagery, nature, travel,
Form:
Free verse
Darkness of night,
introduce me to what lurks
underneath your enchanting moonbeams.
I know that I should stay away,
yet, I am drawn to these silent things
that could easily end me.
I am not afraid of the supernatural.
I am spellbound, enraptured, mystified
by these psychotic creature's requiem dance,
that captures my soul
as it's own possession.
Darkness of night,
take me into your underworld,
where the arms of roaming specters
can totally envelope me,
like a densely tangled spider-web,
with no intention to ever let go.
Allow them to take me away,
to a deep place where, peacefully,
my dying soul can finally rest.
Darkness of night,
tell the devil only this....
he can have all of me,
to punish in any befitting manner.
I have already been through torture,
known pain, lived with loneliness,
and seen hell on earth.
The devil may care to try,
but he cannot hurt me any more.
Darkness of night,
say goodbye for me.
Shout high up to the heavens
and tell the sun it needs to shine
no longer on me.
Dark Poetry Contest
Categories:
befitting, dark, death, goodbye, gothic,
Form:
Free verse
Beside a gilded wall of white a dainty bench is resting;
Victorian accents swirl about the ornate room, providing
An elegance, a beauty in each line and curve, attesting
To cultured tastes and upscale life, and hours spent deciding
What shapes and colors best would suit the airy, springtime feeling:
But looking closely, something there upon the bench reposes,
A lady's fan and soft kid gloves, their jumbled state revealing
What hasty movements cast them all aside when fragrant roses
Arrived in state with baby's breath, and some white note, nigh hidden
In bursting blooms of rainbow hue, by unknown hands delivered:
And having noted thus, the eye could not but roam unbidden
To she who holds the rose bouquet, to she who slightly shivered
With thoughts that youths so oft imagine, thoughts that made her giddy
And blushed her cheeks the color of the rosy dress cascading
With lacy ruffles from her shoulders, looking just as pretty
As her face, which looks for all the world like roses never fading;
Two lips like shiny cherries, or the poppies that she tends to,
Complexion like a creamy rose with hints of pink surrounding
The fragile outer curling of its leaves; brown eyes that send you
A warm, quick-spreading feeling, like the first hot sunrays bounding
Thro' seas of blue to make the greengrass grow. Now look, she's taking
The little note from out among the stems; perhaps with quiet
And careful steps the message could be read; I have to try it.
"My dearest Rose, I never could imagine so befitting
A name for one who does resemble all that man finds charming
In lovely blossoms: beauty surely, grace as they are flitting
In breezes sweet of scent, and frailty, which I find disarming;
So here's a gift no prettier and sweet than you. Sincerely,
A man that loves you more than you could know.
Quatrains of decapentasyllabic verse followed by a single line of iambic pentameter.
Written by Isaiah Zerbst. Published for the first time January 26, 2015.
Categories:
befitting, art, beauty, crush, flower,
Form:
Quatrain
Purple Poem
Not too many moons ago,
A Winter evening so cold,
I rested in my Purple room
and wrote a poem so bold.
Proclaiming the Purple Poem,
Call me the Purple Poet.
A title befitting no common man,
Humbly the world shall know it.
Truly original the only one,
Uniquely purple and proud,
With this my purple poem,
Laureate to discerning crowd.
This my friends, is a purple poem
Written in my purple room.
Let me rest at the end of days,
Snuggly, peacefully in purple tomb.
Inspired by the Orange Poem
George Macbeth 1932-1992
Categories:
befitting, purple, tribute,
Form:
Rhyme
Hand knit socks you are wonderful to me.
As I'm winding this soft wool yarn,
deciding, which needles to use,
I know you're going to be gorgeous,
cozy, and fun to wear socks.
Only the best wool for you, with
careful, hand wash, and lay flat to dry
cleaning instructions, befitting royalty.
Hand knit socks you will rock.
You'll think I'm a genius, my
matching bright lime green and rainbow yarns together.
The chosen slip stitch pattern, alternating the yarn,
makes you dear socks a joy.
An amazing joy to knit as well as to wear.
Oh the colors, the perfect fit, like wearable art.
My hand knit socks you'll be the envy of my other socks.
You dear socks deserve this honor.
You are the socks that rock.
Categories:
befitting, creation, fashion, fun, humor,
Form:
Ode
She gave me a new name that feeds my soul
when others label me, this makes me whole
from heritage is where she drew the word
I must confess this name I'd never heard
Aneolani, what endearing name!
to what it means, I cannot lay a claim
a "breath of heaven", oh, what pure delight
that she thinks this of me makes darkness bright
the name is more befitting to her heart
she stood by me when I was torn apart
And though she's far away, I feel her near
My "Fereshteh", she banishes the fear
My name for you is ANGEL, can't you see?
For you bring paradise so close to me
Eileen Manassian
This poem is dedicated to my dear friend, FJ Thomas who is no longer part of this community. FJ recently sent me a message saying that she has given me the name Aneolani, which in Hawaiian means "breath of heaven". I know I am not deserving, but I can assure you that I will treasure that name forever. I, in turn, have named her Fereshteh, which in Persian means ANGEL. FJ is the one who gifted me several Premium memberships and a Life time membership. She is the one who sent me a tiara and three crowns via post to Lebanon. She is the one who makes me believe in the goodness of people. To say I love this woman is an understatement. I'm sad we've lost her poetic voice here. She writes with fire and power. She is all I admire in a woman: strength, intelligence, and spirit.
Categories:
befitting, angel, tribute,
Form:
Sonnet
Many Americans, at least it would seem,
Win Megabuck lotteries, inside their day dreams;
What will I do now, with all of this loot?
I’ll jet far and wide, like a Rock Star en route.
And yet, there’s a man, at the head of our state,
Worth many vast billions—no weak featherweight;
Who could have declined, to avoid all the grief,
But instead serves us tirelessly, providing relief.
THANKS to the millions—‘Deplorables’ strong,
Who saw his potential, and sang his theme song;
About Making us Great, restoring times past,
Returning jobs lost with fair trade deals—at last!
Yet mainstream ‘the media,’ despise you and peeps,
Their Deep State criminal, lost to your sweep;
MAGA did resonate—you won handily,
Our thin skin now thickened, by their blasphemy.
In the end no collusion—just more of the same,
Fake news by leftists, with HATE on the brain;
So thank you kind sir, and please drain that swamp,
A patriotic act perfectly befitting...
...#45, PRESIDENT DONALD J. TRUMP!
Categories:
befitting, america, appreciation, blessing, conflict,
Form:
Rhyme
My racing heart through silence seeps
a pitter-pattered tempo keeps
while all the world about me sleeps
so quietly in the night.
I sense a ghastly ghoul creep
a lurid wretch my conscious sweep
I fight it, but I softly weep
so quietly in the night.
Above the seas, beyond the moon
confined in heavens black cocoon
who plays that haunting deathly tune
so quietly in the night?
What will my captor now decree?
Shall I know life, shall I go free…
or shall the devil come for me
so quietly in the night?
Befitting rain to match my tears
reflecting all these gripping fears
as light forever disappears
so quietly in the night.
08/22/15
Submission for contest: Rain and Dark, Isolated Places
Hosted by: Pendleton Arkwright
Categories:
befitting, anxiety, dark, death, fear,
Form:
Free verse
Evil thrives within the Night's embrace;
allowing no one to see its face.
And phantoms of the Night clap with joy
applauding the tricks demons employ.
Stolen within the shadows of Night,
a vampire's first kiss starts with a bite.
And as darkness treads the edge of time,
desire and eternity combine.
Two immortal hearts, beating as one;
merge within the eclipse of the sun.
Consummating their union with blood;
souls drown in an emotional flood.
Sweet Ecstasy, distilled from the dark;
quenches, dark desires, naked and stark.
And befitting creatures of the Night;
silhouettes morph into bats in flight.
Categories:
befitting, desire, emotions, fantasy, feelings,
Form:
Rhyme
as I stand here and gaze
into the heavens
this dark, inky sky
ahhh . . .
now I see you my love
my bright, shining Gibbous Moon
the dark cloud
moved on into the night
showing the heavens my spirituality
for we are as one
whether you are a mere Crescent Moon
timidly showing
mere tantalizing part of you
we may only guess
what is hidden
in the darkness which is you
its as if you are having wicked fun
at my expense
time gives me the taste of
your delicious and tempting Half Moon
glow of iridescence revealing
more of yourself
although it seems the more you show
the more is hidden
you are playing me an exotic dance
befitting your lofty aspirations
an enticing, though half naked smile
I stand there
wishing the nights would flow faster
as each night
slowly evolves into the next one
you know I will
be there again and again
waiting
patiently waiting
for your final unveiling
and shows me
your patient lover
you in all your majestic glory
a huge, bright and lustrous
Full Moon rising
I almost sob
Categories:
befitting, heaven, nature,
Form:
Free verse
One enchanted evening
I followed Luna’s moon,
as She guided my ship
to a secret lagoon.
In a golden ocean
buffed to a mirror sheen,
I spied the sexiest
mermaid I'd ever seen.
She flaunts ebony hair
befitting, a true Queen,
offset by a sweeping
tail of aquamarine.
Anchored in the shallows
I waded to the shore,
and evoked the magic
that would open love's door.
Under a full March moon
she steps from fantasy,
and rises from the sea
to make sweet love to me.
Sharing this special night
I know that she must leave,
and I’m to be content
with the gift of this eve.
Categories:
befitting, beautiful, emotions, fantasy, feelings,
Form:
Quatrain
My friend Silent One brightens my days with words uplifting
Crowning him king of jolly old, would be befitting
Has my vote
This talented bloke
One vote per poet and no counterfeiting
Categories:
befitting, friendship,
Form:
Limerick
At first, I wasn't quite sure it was Her, and then, I felt Her warm breath blow ever so gently across my skin and heard the trickling sound of running water fleeing Winter's icy grip. And I caught a whiff of Her unique perfume lingering on a fresh breeze, a rich, earthy aroma befitting Nature's favorite daughter. She slowly dipped Her brush into a rainbow palette and dappled color onto Winter's canvas of white, unfurling trillions of leaves to green the tops of trees. She is the Goddess for whom the birds sing, an artist extraordinaire, and the giver of life. And I, for one, welcome Spring with open arms, enchanted by Her inculpable beauty, genteel grace, and friendly, flirtatious southern-belle charm.
melting into spring
icicles shrink drop by drop...
winter bleeds water
(Haibun)
3/15/2021
Springtime Haibun Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: M. L. Kiser
Categories:
befitting, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Haibun
She never wanted a big wedding
The thought of so many people looking
Made her uncomfortable
She thought if she ever married again
That it should be small, quiet
That the focus should be
On the man she loved.
She wouldn't wear a gown
But something befitting the season
She would stand before a minister
Take the usual vows
Then, looking deeply into her beloved's eyes,
Recite something she had written
About his virtues and what she admired about him
About how she would always stand beside him
About how she would love to listen to him
For she always loved what he had to say.
Then they may play music
And they may dance
Well, if she ever married again...
Categories:
befitting, lovemay,
Form:
Lyric
I, cold ... cold as stone ...
But is that not befitting such as I?
Once, merely common, hidden deep in the earth,
Still, my quality made itself known ... my porcelain perfection
Shone in the sun, and I was freed from Terra's grasp ...
Across a great sea I was rocked, carried in care
To finally, joyfully, go under The Master's hand.
I slowly, agonizingly, emerged from the cloud-white slab, pure ...
Brought forth into all glory and consummation!
Stone saw, chisel, rasp, cloth, and paper ... I stretched my limbs, reached my
Fingers and toes to the ether ... arched my back in a repose of death,
Laid upon an altar of mocked coral, draped only in my net -
The Pearl Diver's repository of all things glistening and wondrous!
Oh, what exquisite orbs, those that grace the net's seam!
White, pink, and black opaline gems - iridescent ocean treasures!
Miraculous drops of milky, nacreous moonlight, hidden in Neptune's gullet,
Awaiting their emancipation ... finally freed at the edge of the diver's blade!
But that, for me, is yet a dream ... I am but stone, after all ...
Be content, instead, to gaze upon my keen beauty,
I, the polished progeny of a sculptor's acumen,
I, the refined, glorious bloom of stone,
I, the ivory issue of marble elegance,
I, the bairn of a master ...
The Dead Pearl Diver.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the " ... And Now For Something Completely Different" Poetry Contest, John Lawless, Judge & Sponsor.
~ Honorable Mention ~ in the "Brian's Choice Q, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
( This is about the sculpture "The Dead Pearl Diver" by Benjamin Paul Akers 1858, currently on display at The Portland Museum of Fine Art in Portland, ME ... this was a personal favorite of Nathaniel Hawthorne, and he wrote about it more than once. This is an incredible sculpture, especially in person )
Categories:
befitting, analogy, art, metaphor, ocean,
Form:
Ekphrasis