Best Bides Poems
While whispers shush on sheltered shores, as soon the cockcrow quakes,
the seas descry a skittish sky, sense summer zephyrs wake –
roused passions neath the sunrise pulse, the whitecaps throb and ache.
Along the crests crawl shallow shades the soaring sun effaces
and rains in streams enhance the dreams that fantasy embraces
while ocean sprays of yesterdays reveal forsaken faces.
The midday sun has slowed its run, a shrinking puddle steams,
between the knells of shattered shells drift soaring seagulls’ screams –
the beauty wends but never ends, or so it surely seems.
At dusk a ruddy disk descends, the skyline's furnace burns
and neath the swells where Neptune dwells, an undercurrent churns –
a seahorse hides and seaweed bides until the tempest turns.
While twilight hosts the winds with ghosts of barbed electric spangles,
a mermaid braves the crashing waves adorned with starfish bangles –
her spirit yearns in twists and turns entwined in rockweed tangles.
As seven stranded seamen scan the dimple-dappled moon,
a brace of surly Sirens serenade a lonely loon –
the breakers pound and sometimes sound a melancholy tune.
Soon gales ignite the briny night and rip the skies askew
with zigzag teeth flashed deep beneath a blazing bolt tattoo –
storms, spent, subside in ebbing tides, then all begins anew.
Silver shimmers
reflected by the sea
When dawn kisses each
silhouetted tree.
As sunrise pierces
fleecy clouds of blush
A canvass bides the
eager artist's brush.
Our Banyon bids adieu
to fowl in flight...
Their songs reverberate
in morning light
Attesting to the joy
each dawn excites
In explosive colors
which Sol ignites.
As breezes blow through
azure skies above
I share divinely Dawn's
sweet gifts of love.
12-24-21
'STRAND NO 1042' Contest~First Place~
Sponsor Brian Strand
Merry Christmas (Mele Kalikimaka) from Hawaii….Aloha
Tranquility has settled like a dove
Serenity and Peace have kissed in love
Contentment bides in place of sweet repose
and Beauty welcomes all with gifted rose
The Turbulence of life hears, "Peace be still."
Obeisance to the call brings honored thrill
the breath of Kindness then refreshes life
and vanquished Hate no longer brings on strife
Forgotten is the Heartache driven tear
transpired is the ghoul whose name is Fear
the shroud of pain falls back by hands unseen
and Joy comes back to reign where it has been
Such comfort and assurance none can steal
Embraced in grace, the heart finds time to heal
Eileen Manassian
A time of change awaits you, friend.
It crouches on your track.
It peeps its head round yonder bend
and knows you can’t go back.
And being time, itself it bides,
(albeit a time of change).
You cannot know how well it hides
and still be in your range!
Your path might be a jolly jaunt
when suddenly appears
that deviation there to daunt
you in the coming years.
A monster ever stalking you. . .
then one day it may pale,
and thankfully you start anew
upon another trail.
Or maybe you’ve gone traipsing down
a road of misery,
and wishing only you could drown,
you stand beside a sea.
But look! What beckons you away?
A time of change, (no beast)
has handed you a bright new day
and hopelessness has ceased!
for Giorgio's Impress Me IV Contest
Motif: Philosophical
She floats into a room and voices hush,
the silence at effulgence in her bloom,
as crimson rises to her cheeks in blush
to humble scarlet gardens and their plume.
The gown in velvet bides her every curve,
smooth bight of rivers on to ocean's sway
that in such pastel presence do observe
how her translucence rivals light of day.
Though gentle white alyssum may surround
while saffron bloom the jonquils in their wake,
her coif in glinting chestnut is thus crowned
as alder trees beside an autumn lake.
A memory in oil is all she leaves,
but luster as in life she still achieves.
The sun has deigned to smile on me
And make me his mistress moon
He fills with fire and burns in me
With heat of the sultry noon
I’m ravished by his solar flares
That make my face to glow
All night there is a radiance
In silver streams that flow
On velvet sheets of midnight black
I reign, mistress supreme
The stars all look with wonder on
Entranced by each moon beam
The love he made remains in me
And pulsates forming tides
The sea and oceans can't be still
From love that in me bides
The waves, they swell and do my will
The mistress of the night
Reflecting love from lover Sun
Until he rules in light
The sun, he comes to smile at me
His lover, mistress moon
He raptures me in his embrace
My splendor will shine soon
Eileen Manassian
When Summer starts her transitory reign,
King Sun, her beau, has steadily ascended,
brightening a sky that, for a time,
shall be his lovely mistress’ domain.
He reaches out his welcoming warm rays
across the span of Summer’s first official day,
lengthening them just as far as he is allowed
so he may well receive his paramour,
enveloping her in the fullest of his golden grand embraces.
But when night descends, Sun’s power wanes.
His wife, a goddess, the fair and steadfast Luna,
arrives to spell her king,
along with her attendants, a host of radiant stars.
Meanwhile, Mistress Summer softly slumbers,
faintly breathing out the warmth that Sun has wrapped her in.
So even in the dark’s coolness, she prevails.
In the dewy dawn, when she awakes,
Summer sees the beauty of her lover’s light and eagerly,
she spurs her King Sun on.
No two were ever so well-matched as these,
for both heat up the days with their consuming ardor
till the time of the equinox
when Summer is exiled for nine months,
to have her rebirth in the following year.
And year after year, for what could be eternity,
Sun bides his time, for he has many lovers. . .
But as lovers go,
it’s Summer who’s most expert at inciting the passion in his soul.
by andrea dietrich/ Motif is nature. Also romance
For the Impress Me Contest III of Giorgio V.
Just twenty days. The mystical
Libra will turn rosette boughs into
fading auburn… nights combing
the breeze colder and quite somber ,
as if women on bare hilltops await
the arrival of men in some far oceans
when bleached summer gives way
to icicles of endurance so patient
and wives, lovers tremble in this anticipation
swaying
back and forth, balancing the cold
clutches of afternoon’s light and
destitute clouds wearing mufflers
for near or far elegies of snow.
It is grippingly delicate: I mean, watching
the changing hint of a breeze growing
paler.
Yet wiser is October rising to chip the
glow of studded stars, bit by bit, dying
in the gray of grayest sleet to bear
the tunes of venial woes. Yet, it is the cycle
when courage bides its time for amiable joy.
It is the cycle when her adolescent stage
transforms ladies into maids-in-waiting...
how much longer must the women endure
to find an armada of loved ones back home?
And the weight of contentment drips, drips
in a season fulfilling its own quest.
There are
no answers; only reflective surrender.
Contest: Waiting
Sponsor: james rogers
9/10/2015
Love lingers, in the objects of stone left behind,
holding pleasing recollections of welcome footfalls;
the painful memories, most, spent of love declined.
Those last few months of harborless shores, the squalls
fade, as I gaze on the jade keeper left bedside,
holding pleasing recollections of welcome footfalls.
The blade of horn, carved with love's protection, bides.
An owl of stone my guardian makes nightmares
fade, as I gaze on the jade keeper left bedside,
I have keys given me in faith, your love declared.
Though trust given, never was withdrawn, never died.
An owl of stone my guardian makes nightmares
fade, and over gold-amber earrings; I still cry.
Yes, you are goodly gone, and that I truly know;
though trust given never was withdrawn, never died.
Happy times of kisses warm, of love bestowed,
love lingers, in the objects of stone left behind.
Yes, you are goodly gone and that I truly know,
the painful memories, most, spent of love declined.
Below within the dwelling deep,
while tumbling in fitful sleep;
the rumble-hum of furnace keep;
the mouse and Cat Lord Bo-peep.
Fluttering lids and labored breath
below within the dwelling deep,
furious dreams do waken sleep
attributes of childhood’s bequeath.
Horrors rise on temporal tides
a stew of insanity bides.
Below within the dwelling deep,
the cat fiddle-screeches life’s weep.
Dali cobbles retinal creeps
the mind dittles and cows moo oon,
The nightmares ending none too soon
below within the dwelling deep.
Lifting winds cut through the trees
Scouring all of coppered leaves,
Now swirling in the autumn sky,
To flutter down, like butterflies.
Winter now, she bides her time
For soon enough her clock will chime.
She'll open wide her icy hand,
And cast her spell across the land.
In the trees, will squirrels doze.
While creatures snuggle beneath hedgerows,
To quietly wait out winters hold,
In dreys and nests, safe from the cold.
The land around, now dormant, freezing.
It too will sleep, till winter's easing.
One man, one bomb, packed with rusty nuts and bolts
He bides his time, picks his spot and halts
Then detonates a foyer, full of mums and dads and kids
Who are blown apart, blown asunder, blown to little bits
Manchester, England, 2017, do I like Muslims or do I dream
Two men, two knifes, a soldier walking home attacked
Beheaded on the street and with machete’s hacked
Calmly, two men wait and joke with stunned passers by
Behind them, on the floor a headless man did die
London, England, 2013, do I like Muslims or do I dream
Three men, a car, with pockets full of knives
Stabbing indiscriminately, eight people lost their lives
The police were quickly on the scene, the men shot dead, where they stood
Another brutal terror attack and the streets were stained with blood
London, England, 2017, do I like Muslims or do I dream
Three examples, horrible but are all Muslims full of badness
The answer simply No, they shared the grief and sadness
For those that lost their lives from the few with bombs and knifes
Now Hammed and his children are scared to walk the street
With abuse and scorn hurled at them, from everyone they meet
Mohamed took no part in this, he is sickened just like we
But a few have hardened life for the Muslim community
England 2017, do I like Muslims or do I dream
Leave the people alone, let the people be
They believe in their god, just like you and me
Broken Back
They use words like
Cold
And
Crossing
Sighs
To describe something romanticised
Obscured verbs
In which to hide
To hide
Romanticised
The suffering
Without a name
It asks you not to worry
A vacant voice
Verbalised
Tears
She cried
Lies
Nomenclature of disheartening
Hope
Borrowed between shadows
Between hearts
Flowers
And chocolates
At peace
At last
Unburdened
Released
Love
Child
Romanticised
To a field of waving poppies
Gently shook the rifles
And slow blood let
Picturesque
And before God
Such cruelty breathes animate
Stand
Brave
Courageous
Fool
Dancing in the rain
The paupers smile
Romanticised smile
Of a rich divide
To beggar belief
And it’s easy
So very easy
To explain away
How life
Is just made this way
They use words like
Freedom
Romanticised acceptance
Short words
Of description
To present an illusion
Of perfection
The good die young
It could happen to anyone
But only the good die young
Young
Children
Anyone
God
Space
Illusion
Nothing to prove
Romantic death
Of death
Who bides his time
In skeletal black cloth
And bargains away
In celluloid
The faces we can’t forget
Those who told us
We would never regret
Anything
The break scape
The big escape
A monumental world of landscape
And freedom
Beyond mountains
Beyond worlds
Beyond words
Romanticised
Will my rock in the ocean
float to my rescue,
am I yet to choose ?
Feathers sink like feathers
as only feathers can.
Thick, soft, gentle green grass
and sands, or sands,
charming, benevolent, clean as I recall,
and waters, or waters,
warm, cool, moving unseen,
and winds, or winds,
no longer would they sadden me.
Cold, as if a blanket, no longer torment
to my most naked extremity.
My rock at ocean's bottom
calmly bides its time,
as if somehow I could choose.
24th October 2018
perches low enough
and bides an early farewell~
the sun in winter