Best Blithely Poems
When fields gleam aureate and song birds sing
and transient stars in clusters scintillate,
when sweet perennials are coaxed by spring
to blossom forth, he comes with sprightly gait.
He wends his way along the mountain trails
past opalescent rush of streams and rills,
goat-footed, on the paths that ribbon dales
and wind around and up and down small hills.
Then nymphs appear as, through the woods, he trips
to flower-smitten meadows. Fancy-free,
he leads them with his reed held to his lips,
till blithely they embrace his rhapsody.
So hear the music; watch the wood nymphs spin. . .
Then captured by sheer merriment, join in!
For Nathan A.'s ANY POEM GOES Poetry Contest
Categories:
blithely, music, nature,
Form:
Sonnet
The Voice…
On a dark night that was darker than my pain,
nothing was there for me except to complain.
I hid myself in the emptiness of bed.
Nothing was there except loneliness instead.
I heard a sound that was not like any sound.
Joyously called my name, sought me, and then found.
He told me to get up, wake up look at dawn.
The darkness of the night soon will be all gone.
The voice told me that morning dawn, full of light;
has the power to wash darkness from its night.
The voice asked me about the days of my youth.
That I am old and grey, with forgotten truth.
I asked him that who are you, and what are you?
I don't know you, didn’t see you passing through.
Who are you that suddenly came to my room?
Aren’t you God, and I am, meeting my doom?
I called your name many times when I was young.
I prayed your name day and night with broken tongue.
Now, you are calling my name in this day and age;
not worth talking to you; anger creates rage.
I am too old, and I had too many sins,
Living is the only game that nobody wins.
Go and bother another soul beside me,
I am tired of you; you shall never be.
The voice told me that I was out of my mind.
And I have been beguiled, as though I am blind.
He told me that he was with me the whole time.
He let me to fly in this paradigm.
He told me that he is the end of a start.
He is the love that cries from an aching heart.
He told me that he is water in the spring.
He is those nightingales who so blithely sing.
He told me that he is bottom, and he’s up.
He is grapes, and he is wine in the same cup.
He told me that he gave feathers for a flight.
He made it so the sun shall set within night.
I asked him if I could see him with my eyes,
I will be like the moon, lighting up the skies.
That I looked for any sign to believe him,
with just all promises, dreams maybe all grim.
He told me to wake up, open up my eyes,
and see what is to see, a blessing in disguise.
I did open my eyes saw a glowing bright,
like a drifting shadow, in an ocean of light.
I saw my son saying, "Wake up! Wake up! dad",
What’s the matter with you? Are you going mad?
5/14/16 Haloo
Categories:
blithely, imagination, journey, metaphor, symbolism,
Form:
Masnavi
Rodents can be loquacious
That includes your average gerbil
They love to prattle, chat and blather
They really are quite verbal
Hamsters are talkative too
Just as garrulous as can be
With running mouth and wheel to match
They are a sight to see
But I am loath to squander words
Sparing usage is my way
I gather them like so many acorns
Against a rainy day
Yes, word collecting is the passion
Of this precocious squirrel
I garner adjectives, verbs and nouns
Be they singular or plural
The park is fecund land
There a plethora may be found
Vociferous, vehement and vex
I lately scooped up off the ground
The verb tree is prolific
Its discovery quite a boon
The other day it bestowed upon me
Flaunt, foster and festoon
All along the sidewalks
Concrete nouns lie strewn about
How blithely I did snatch up
A lummox, a laggard and a lout
To command a better view
I nimbly scampered up a pole
From this lofty perch I spotted
Wheedle, coax and cajole
Away in the distance
I spied a tempting pile
Heaped up for the taking were
Enticing, alluring and beguile
What do I with so much verbiage?
You would be fair to ask
Squirreling away so vast a lexicon
Must prove a mammoth task
The answer lies in my arboreal abode
Where these many words I stash
In alphabetical order they are arrayed
From zealous to abash
In a capricious mood one day
I grouped them by part of speech
Such a cacophony arose from clustering
Banter, badger and beseech
No matter how I sort them
The wasting of words I spurn
Reserved for rarest use I keep
Reticent, laconic and taciturn!
_________________________________
by Brian McClain - Feb 17, 2016
Originally posted Feb 17, 2016
Accidentally deleted Feb 22, 2016
Reposted Feb 22, 2016
Categories:
blithely, animal, children, education, kid,
Form:
Rhyme
I am very pleased to present a fourth collaboration, this time in rhyme
with my dear friend Lawrence Sharp, a truly exceptional poet.
.
Thank you, Lawrence, for your great inspiration
and ongoing fellowship.
Ancient Hero, Firm And Honorable Til Death
Twas not roses painted bright red upon his shield
he that with great courage refused to ever yield;
with beating heart and full faith in his saving God
slayed monstrous beasts, going where only heroes trod
with no complaint of hardest sacrifices made,
he gave back no ground and bright red-blood wet his blade.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
Decades flown by, great battles fought under red sun
bravery gave strength to finish what was begun;
strongest spirit with true soul to match and hold true
to the solemn vows and painful costs surely due
his right arm, servant of Light, Truth and Divine God,
with love of family and his faith, his firm rod.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay.'
War's end, dusk of last decade under cloud's cover
would be pride and pain greatest to lifelong lover;
fiercest and most wicked was the very last foe,
The Serpent King blithely cast gods and angels low;
most prized the triumph or most abject the defeat,
in driving rain the greatest challenge he would meet.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
Unclean was the battle and untold was its cost,
lives of men and monsters were sacrificed, not lost;
The Ancient Hero stood and faced The Serpent King,
final bloody battle he knew would bring death's sting;
perished with his bane, war's demons and gods destroyed,
mightiest foe with him he took into the void.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
A collaboration with Lawrence Sharp
9th November 2018
Categories:
blithely, art, inspirational,
Form:
Rhyme
I am very pleased to present a fourth collaboration
with great poet and friend, Robert Lindley.
Only Robert's mighty pen and personal encouragement
could possibly have inspired me to venture
beyond my more familiar Free Verse.
Thank you, Robert, for your great inspiration
and ongoing fellowship.
Ancient Hero, Firm And Honourable Til Death
A collaboration with Robert Lindley
9th November 2018
Twas not roses painted bright red upon his shield
he that with great courage refused to ever yield;
with beating heart and full faith in his saving God
slayed monstrous beasts, going where only heroes trod
with no complaint of hardest sacrifices made,
he gave back no ground and bright red-blood wet his blade.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
Decades flown by, great battles fought under red sun
bravery gave strength to finish what was begun;
strongest spirit with true soul to match and hold true
to the solemn vows and painful costs surely due
his right arm, servant of Light, Truth and Divine God,
with love of family and his faith, his firm rod.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay.'
War's end, dusk of last decade under cloud's cover
would be pride and pain greatest to lifelong lover;
fiercest and most wicked was the very last foe,
The Serpent King blithely cast gods and angels low;
most prized the triumph or most abject the defeat,
in driving rain the greatest challenge he would meet.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
Unclean was the battle and untold was its cost,
lives of men and monsters were sacrificed, not lost;
The Ancient Hero stood and faced The Serpent King,
final bloody battle he knew would bring death's sting;
perished with his bane, war's demons and gods destroyed,
mightiest foe with him he took into the void.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
Categories:
blithely, allegory,
Form:
Rhyme
Stiff, stifling, arid air: snakes, lizards, sand,
and cactus. Scorched red rocks and baking skin.
My canteen empty in a barren land -
my romance landscape till first love walked in.
One summer evening under moon's cool beam,
the desert's xeric heat no longer cursed.
Lazing with friends. A pool... in walked my dream.
First glance: a tall, cool drink to slake all thirst.
Then as her eyes met mine, my blood ran warm.
My hand touched hers; both temp and pulse were raised.
In time, slow dancing - two bodies conform,
and with that first kiss, fulgent flames soon blazed.
The desert heat from which I'd just emerged
blithely returned, as first love's swelter surged.
Categories:
blithely, first love, love, summer,
Form:
Sonnet
Golden oak, the banister gleams,
its clean waxed surface lightly
touched by her soft, soft hand as she
descends the green carpeted stair,
tossing her lustrous, long blonde hair.
She is modishly dressed, in a casual way
(a green twill frock) and she is
eating an intense red, crisp apple,
which she carries aloft in her left hand,
left elbow resting on left hip.
The apple aroma precedes her to the door
and out, into the bright gold light.
She closes the door, engages the lock,
firmly bites into the crisp apple flesh,
flashing her strong white teeth;
her pink tongue licks a dribble
of juice from the left corner
of her red, red mouth. She shakes her head,
gold in the golden light, and she tosses
the half-eaten apple to the lush green lawn,
laughs at a soaring greenjay, passes (unnoticed)
a flight of fluttering golden butterflies,
and blithely continues on her determined way
to her beauty appointment, her club luncheon,
and the rest of her busy, busy day.
Categories:
blithely, life, social,
Form:
Free verse
I'd have loved to see the bluebirds fly
above the white chalk-cliffs of Dover--
and as they were blithely soaring over,
immersed in thought I'd lie
in calm repose upon that beach,
admiring their swooping forms,
evanescent, in fleeting storms,
like ballet ... far beyond my reach.
Frisking, fragile, carefree birds,
symbolic through intrinsic meaning --
like sterling hope and freedom's words
light English springs, forever greening:
while England fought the bitter fight
to hold at bay the 'fall of night.'
Author notes
November 20, 2004 - approx 112 words
What makes Britain great? The entire world would be speaking German and Japanese right now if not for British courage in the face of overwhelming adversity.
Setting, approximately June, 1941, Dover Beach, immediately following the Battle of Britain.
This is a published poem, copyrighted, and it takes you to a specific place as well as a specific time, when the world was at war and the fate of all mankind hung in the balance. It is relevant because we are fast approaching another such time. Bluebirds are not found in the British Isles, but I wrote the poem before I became aware of the fact. The curator at the Dover Museum said I should just leave it that way, as bluebirds, since the song, The White Cliffs of Dover, specifically named bluebirds.
Update: BLUEBIRD is an old country name for swallows and house martins, which have a blue sheen to their plumage. These migrants arrive from the continent in spring and leave in autumn, crossing the English Channel. So these bluebirds appear at least twice a year over the white cliffs and no doubt many spend the entire summer in the vicinity of Dover. As portents of improving weather, swallows and martins are traditionally believed to bring good fortune.
The poem, a quasi-Petrarchean sonnet, is being archived with other writings about Dover and The Second World War by the Dover Museum, in Dover, England.
This sonnet was published in Sonneto Poesia, Volume 3, Number 1, Winter,
2003-2004
Written July 20th, 2003
Categories:
blithely, world war ii,
Form:
Sonnet
It seems the old man in the moon looks down
On spooks and things that fly through the night
They blithely pass across his golden sphere
Giving those Halloween lovers a ghostly fright..
10/12/15
Categories:
blithely, halloween,
Form:
Quatrain
I 'spose there are many religious tenets open to interpretation.
Old John Calvin proposed another upon receiving inspiration,
When he propounded the ticklish matter of predestination,
Thereby, causing more angst concerning one's eternal salvation!
Most folks blithely saunter along live's treacherous path,
Trying their best to behave and avoid their Maker's wrath,
At times straying from the route the Creator has planned,
Assuming by good works they'll reach the Promised Land!
I reckon folks will seldom concur on spiritual potpourri,
And 'specially on predestination, theologians will disagree.
We can only plod the straight and narrow e'er doing His will.
Be it predestination or faith, only He our fate will fulfill!
We among the quick will never know how He judges our fate,
'Til we pass thro' that mysterious veil and enter Peter's gate!
Is it predestination that determines who draws the short straw,
Or does He use other methods for administering Divine Law?
'Tis a profound homily that John Calvin did compose.
As for my stone this epitaph I would humbly propose:
"If predestination it be, eons ago I pray Thou has destined me,
To enter Thy heavenly abode to be at eternal rest with Thee!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
blithely, faith
Form:
Rhyme
You fleet so blithely, unaware
That here I stand, awash with care
My heart is heavy, lost to thrill
Of dreams deterred, it’s had its fill
I think of all that’s left undone
Of trophies that I haven’t won
Your blessings you did not bestow
Now time is short, and that I know
You mock me, Life, with hurtful glee
For me no joyous jubilee
My zenith, passed, my strength has waned
But tell me Life, what have you gained?
One less soul to tempt your fate
And as I linger at the gate
So loathe to leave you, though unkind
In death no solace can I find
So in this time that still remains
Come let us kiss, forget the pains
Life, be enticed to lover’s tryst
Grant me the joys that I have missed
Let’s fall in love, before I’m gone
Admit, dear Life, you’ve done me wrong
Let passion bless my dying days
For only then, I’ll sing your praise
Inflame my veins with your embrace
No tortured thought, but blissful grace
Life, intercourse with you is sweet
In this full bloom, the end I’ll greet
Bathed in the beauty of release
Where every conscious thought must cease
In afterglow of ecstasy
Please end my life, and let me be
Eileen Manassian
Categories:
blithely, life,
Form:
Personification
I stopped to smell the roses I got stung by a bee
Weird as it might seem that made me so happy
For the bees they are a dying it seems something is wrong
If those bees keep dying we won’t be here very long
I know I could just blithely continue down this road
Refuse to be responsible, refuse to carry my load
But isn’t that exactly what led us to this place?
Where we are grimly facing the end of the human race
I know I could keep writing about the rising of the seas
The millions confined in poverty and the dying of the trees
Oh the subjects they are endless this truth that we must face
However self glorification causes us to move at slothful pace
I guess it is more pleasant staring at yesterday and fail to see tomorrow
And the price that we will pay…sadness sadness they refuse to listen,
And when told they refuse to listen, they refuse to listen.
So to you I wish to say…I love you and goodbye
Categories:
blithely, friendship
Form:
Epitaph
On mild days in sun’s rays,
I relish observing Nature’s ways.
I watch squirrels playing tag
and puppies with tails that blithely wag.
Songbirds serenade from early to late.
My indoor chores will just have to wait!
Categories:
blithely, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Hail beats against the window,
Wind howls on without remorse.
Do you hear what I hear?
Winter's voice is blithely hoarse.
Trees are glazed with icing snow,
Panes are veiled with frosted lace.
Do you see what I see?
Winter's face is full of grace.
Pine pours spice into the air,
Ginger floats in gentle wafts.
Do you smell what I smell?
Winter's perfume - fresh and soft.
The hearth is bright with fire.
The chilly night brews up a storm.
Do you feel what I feel?
My darling keeps me safe and warm.
Categories:
blithely, holiday, seasons,
Form:
Quatrain
On
lucent
gossamer
wings fulgent in
my precious garden
nymphs spin golden trumpets
welcoming spring. Gentian bells
sway blithely beneath jubilant
incantations arousing cupids
ardent desire blossoming cherry pink.
Categories:
blithely, nature,
Form:
Etheree