Best Before Noon Poems
The Sounds of Silence
By: Simon & Garfunkle
Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a streetlamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
No one dare
Disturb the sound of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said “The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ciERzSFRwzk
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With a Little Salt and Lime
Hello Jose my old friend
I've come to guzzle you again
The party started before afternoon
I started sipping on you far too soon
My last SENTENCE I fear was slightly slurred
(Vision blurred)
Forgot to EEEET----my breakfast
They look with pity upon me
'Can't hold his liquor', they agree
Now I'm weaving when I try to walk
Senseless babble when I try to talk
Then I feel the NEEEED to flee to an old-oak-tree
(To heave and pee)
but cannot LOOOZE---- my breakfast
Did not like his tone at all
Got myself into a brawl
I quickly put him in his rightful place
Broke his knuckles with my pretty face
Shoulda’ had my OOOATS but didn't so alas!
(I kiss the grass)
and now my ASSSS----is breakfast
In the morning I awake
moaning with a bad headache
Bright-sun glaring through the window pane
I whine and whimper in my wretched pain
In the next room a TV-is-blaring
and screams in my pounding-ear
(No thank you dear)
Believe I'll PASS on----breakfast
*Moral of the story: Never drink before noon OR on an empty stomach...
Winter is leaving a patchwork behind
Woven lumps of snow, for spring to un-wind
Melting into flowing streams, easy to follow
Right on down to the river bend's flow
A place for my soul's revival, under tall pines, soft soil
A nice place of rest from burdening toil
I can imagine I'll be there pretty soon
Set a date with my muse sometime before noon
The river may show me something special to say
Bringing with its music, a refreshing, new day
Heidi Sands
4/10/23
Received POTD 4/12/23
Sunflowers like smiling balloons,
round and robust, sounds
of the stem bobbing like a string
tied not to the past but to the soons.
Lost before noon, the duct
let out one final tear. Now
she is nearer to God than me.
Like a sheepdog, I guard my Dad.
Sunflowers, weaved into a frame,
deluded in happiness while we pass.
Petals pull at the heart, switching
moods between Winter and Spring.
His tears fill up palm lake, pulsing
of his broken heart. All delusions
fall off the cliff. Reality of life
without her, within.
Sunflowers’ dark brown centers,
the grief stricken eyes, tarred
and feathered. Childlike questions,
those eyes open wide…
So pretty purple urn; claustrophobic
words can’t contain the expression
of who she is-was. Ashes in eyes and
hearts of contemporary ascendants.
Sunflowers’ reflections, so alive,
slowly dying. We watch ourselves
fading. The funeral parading
before us, bypassing us.
The laundry on the line is dancing in time
to a wind whipped tune in early June
it tosses and turns, it whooshes and whirls
around and around in a yard before noon.
As clothes gayly flow, with pink socks in tow
the magic of the cool breeze surrounds
while bold colored shirts flirt with frilly skirts
the gossip from lace nighties abounds.
Sweet dresses sway and swiftly sashay
‘round blue jeans and tee shirts alike
they flip and they flap, they jitter and snap
as the wind crescendos and spikes.
Sheets fill up and fluff in billowing puffs
‘til the breeze takes a break and rests
“hands” then appear to put an end to the cheer
and the clothes slump and know they must rest.
In all of my days, of this simple display
I had never imagined or thought
that a view from afar, a clothes line in a yard
could bring pleasure that cannot be bought.
5/5/2022
Dad can I have that big red balloon?
There's only one left, and he'll sell it soon
It's not like a goldfish, it won't have to be fed
or that pink candy floss, which sticks to my head
Dad can I have that big red balloon?
I won't ask for anything else 'till next June
Not even a ride on the ghost train today
A balloon would be better in every way
Dad can I have that big red balloon?
Don't want to fly in a ship to the moon
Dodging green men as we whizz on the way
I'd probably be sick for the rest of the day
Dad can I have that big red balloon?
Yes my boy, I'll buy you that balloon
I'm not a mean man I just wanted to know
that you really want it, come on let's go
Son here you go, a big red balloon
your hearts great desire fulfilled before noon
We've gone to the fair, we'll have such fun
With you and your balloon out in the sun
Dad, can I have some pink candy floss?
When crimsons are worn and winters mourn;
When time is not a clock, watch or real
And sunsets have lost their appeal -
Then I shall face my doom,
But wake me not before noon.
When you can stretch out your hand
And come with me to a nowhere land,
I will put violets in your hair.
When you can sigh with no despair,
Then I shall believe you rare.
When I stand alone and you go away
Do not dare come ask me to play.
When tomorrow is not neglected, and
finally arrives and someday is a day called now,
then you shall see relief in mine eyes.
When all words care and mountains rise higher,
When trees can breathe and apples are truly red,
Then I shall stop yelling above your head.
When flowers fail to bloom and seven years does
not mean locust, maybe then life shall focus.
When I can find my very own star
Without the need of looking far,
When I lose my urge to splurge and neglect
My search for a still burning torch,
What then .... if when?
The beautiful morning sits alone,
but with wonderful distress, and
lonelieness.
A tear falls from the morning sky,
and it begins to cry a storm alive.
Oh beautiful morning, what has
you so upset?
This morning cannot be like this.
Even before noon, the morning
sky, flooded the earth, no more
dry.
Weep with me winter morning
Sing for me a solemn tune
Dance for me winter morning
Tell me a story before noon
Crack
Crack
Bang
A crashing tree limb pulled me breathlessly from my freezing bed.
White morning stares viciously in my face,
Lingering snow and rain turned everything into hardened ice.
Nude trees striped of their autumn leaves
Perishes slowly under nature’s weight
Crack
Crack
Bang
A laden tree branch lands on my neighbor’s van
Everything in sight has frozen to ice
Slipping and gliding and humming a tune I
Broke the ice just before noon.
©2013 Christine Phillips
To anyone and all
I am awestruck
as I attend
this some-what altered afternoon
altered in a way by
poetic humans
tiny tables among giants on words
sharing all unselfish things as
pen and tea harmonize in their hands.
These peaceful poets including I at this convention
all paired by four
tease time and essence before noon is dawn.
In all sincerity;
how nice it is to be a man at this table
among women
whose beauty write themselves.
To my left of me my Mikki,
melting ice-cream on hot dessert
brings light to the table with
The Lull
and like a Christmas present
All eyes were opened to a new awakening
And all could see The Breeze Amongst A Willow
a painting Emma drew with her words
the words that wind the wind to blow
poetry upon paper and pen.
Its nice to see Emma in front of me
frowning freestyles and smiling sonnets
causing our table to laugh its wood off!
Meanwhile
to the right of Emma,
Andrea,
meditates the Measure of Happiness with two words:
smileage...mileage.
Oh what beautiful art thou displays
poetic godmother; professor of poetry.
These visitors of poets I do adore.
In thus they asked for me to speak of me...
and I recited Visitors nervous with nerves
for with each line I scared myself.
Next time I'll think I'll speak of Sleeping Kisses.
at the table:
Johnny Sumler
MichelleMacDonald
Emma Mantle
Andrea Dietrich
Table of Four
Waking to sight of day
The ironic disorientation
bedroom ceiling moviescreen
fades out this dreams last scene
left looking dumbfounded at tiles
Sunrays shine splintered through bent blinds
casting illuminous entities into otherwise
darker turf
Blanket tangles limbs and ambition tight
traversing body and shielding one eye
guarding it from the illuminites
I draw higher to seek shelter for both
Life's rumble manifests in murmurs
builds gradual, head clears
Horns, tires, voices-reality appears
The window sings soundtrack for urban noise
the horn annoys-the voices noise-the bird song annoys
noise annoys noise and pisses me off!!!
Mind flips modes from hazy wander lust
To more acute senses... tune and adjust
The morning is a step ahead
we will assimilate soon-just before noon
Rise ...casting off covers takes convincing
face the day begrudging and wincing
See...this Evening's eve was very good to me
I reveled in debauchery-I tore the town down, you see?
I went to the school of bar-red knocks--and rocked
bellied up brasher shot for shot
As the sour mash showed effects
I drunk dialed my entire roladex
Jameson ,my Irish ego, whispered dares to me
I performed them to shocked stares, you See?!
We gloated stumbling in revelry
This is the price for the tab last night....
The noise pounds into my mind
Street noise, chirp annoys, pound in my head noise
noise annoys noise
There she goes into the moon dust
Walking in the silver lit fair and just,
Above stars were sprinkled on her hair,
Her body,clothes with perfumed jasmine air,
She carries galaxy in her eyes;
Wearing her hope like a crown and rise,
Her head filled with fantasies and dreams,
Carrying universe of light in her heart to beam;
She laughs with a singing nightingale,
Spreading sweetness above the heaven's dale,
Her smile puts shame to the pale shining moon
Even that the sun sinks before noon
Now! The universe is raven black,
But she paints the skyline hueful lilac
How beautiful is your heart of gold!
That heals and scars soon enfold,
Oh! How mighty is your soul?
That touches all hearts without control,
Her beauty cannot be deform by any storms ,
Her wing will reform and fly in the prodigious swarms.
I always thought that I knew love
How intense that feeling could be
But, you were my gift from above
Just exactly what I'd need
I never thought I'd be a mother
I thought that time had past
It was a shock to believe another
For I was pregnant at last
I was 39 at the time
I felt kind of tired and old
My doctor said that I was fine
And a child is precious like gold
It wasnt always very easy
Being pregnant, working each day
Some times I'd get kind of queasy
But, eventually it went away
Tests, ultrasounds, bloodwork , all were fine
An amnio to see if you were okay
Monthly appointments, filled much of my time
Everything was progressing each day
I worked until the day before
Your grandparents flew out to see
I was very ready, couldn't take no more
Wanted my child for just for me
Finally the day had come,when I was to see my son
I got up early, got everything ready, even checked your room.
Slowly I drove to the hospital ,awaiting for the fun
For this was it what I had waited for, i'd see you before noon.
At the hospital they readied me
A Doctor put a catheter in my back
My Mom and Dad rushed up to see
Their grandchild in a wrap
I told them of my nervousness
How I forgot the words to say
So together we as a family
We were able to pray
I had to wait for a long time
Emergency twins were on the way
They said I was next in line
In the holding room was where I stay
So at 930 they brought me in to the room
They draped a sheet in front of my face
I hoped my head wouldn't zoom
I wanted to start this race
At 9:54 you came into my life
Your Dad ran to the end to see
The child that was bore by his wife
We became a family of three
My eyes filled with tears and I felt joy
It was all so new, I never had felt it before
Here's your child, perfect, handsome, and its a boy
For on that day my love for you grew even more
The bond between a mother and son
Is a story that can't be told
To look into your little eyes, I was overcome
My memories of that first time will never get old
So on this day when you had came
Was the best day I could have ever thought
Never mind fortune and fame
To have a child is a lesson in life that can never ever be taught.
a post from 2014
for my beautiful granddaughter, Alexandra
After 13 days of confinement,
a caterpillar broke out of her butterfly egg,
Then ate the shell and pipevine leaf,
upon which it was laid,
A small fuzzy caterpillar,
with red spikes sticking out her sides and top,
She noticed on her middle,
a bright yellow colored spot-
Pipevine plants are toxic,
to things that are alive,
But for Queen Alexandra,
they would help her to survive,
These leaves would be her food source –
a repellent to her foes,
And if a predator caught her,
they’d vomit up and go-
Queen Alexandra wondered,
where on earth she might be,
Glancing at a tree canopy,
1,300 feet above the sea,
She noticed the thick greenery,
covering all the ground below,
And knew that only in a rainforest,
could this kind of vegetation grow-
Queen Alexandra didn’t know the name,
Papua New Guinea,
The tropical rainforest home,
to the largest butterflies that be,
Loggers destroying habitat,
collectors catching this species fast,
Predictions for her family –
only until the year 2021 to last-
Queen Alexandra as a caterpillar,
ate and grew for 120 days,
Shedding her skin six times was work,
not any fun or play,
Then she tightly clung
to the underside of a pipevine leaf,
And changed into a pupa,
the outside hardening as a protective sheath-
Inside changing her looks,
” metamorphosis” in her safe cocoon,
Forty days later emerging as a butterfly,
in hours long before noon,
Her 12 inch wings were mostly brown,
with pale yellow hues,
Her brother’s wings were smaller,
with streaks of iridescent blue-
So flying up they joined a group –
Queen Alexandra and her brother,
A gathering of butterflies together, you see,
is referred to as a “flutter,”
For about three months they’d fly,
at the top of the tree canopy,
This endangered “Queen Alexandra” Butterfly,
a beautiful rarity to see!
Spenserian sonnet
To Trundle Beach we turn to find our fun
with fam'ly on vacation ev'ry June.
Relaxing, romping, ready for some sun,
we traipse the trails with youngsters before noon
then nestle down for babys' naptime croon.
We find the time for each of our four boys,
yet treasure time alone, a honeymoon.
It's tough adjusting to the constant noise.
When adolescents share their digi-toys
we feel our age; they show us how to text.
No way we can compete with cyber joys.
We've pondered year by year, "What can come next?"
When June has passed and gone, we beg for rest
with mixed emotions, we leave Trundle blessed.
April 2, 2012
Harvesting
The bright of the morning
allured to reap crops
Grasses on the ground,
admired decision, full of love
Glow from the east,
Accelerated births of desire
of all creation of the earth
whispered do that.
Rising sun for the day
A farmer's mind for the cultivate
Intrigued and motivated, rain of a week
Can create problem for the harvest.
A stitch in time saves nine is a lesson
Before rain, harvest of this season
No idea, how the summer will ease.
From the morning will be better to reap
Before noon half should be heaped
The spirit and break will be fresh after lunch
To day is the bright day, mind suggests harvest
Imagining such, the farmer entered into the hut
Day became brighter, farmer cut the product
Members of the family were tying the knots
Evening fell towards twilight,welcoming night
Birds were returning towards nests, being tired
Happy in the mind begot, seeing the field in calm
Harvested paddy will be thrashed before rain harm
Habitat of butterflies and insects saw paddy down
They bundled their luggage,moved for next ground
As usual next morning the farmer saw the field
Became glad, his harvest will be sold this summer.