Best Breezeless Poems
Patience
breezeless summer day -
motionless on lily pad
frog waits for victim
Stiff pleated fronds in concert rise
to wax under the April sun
and trill their canticles begun
in verses jade that they comprise.
Chartreuse of thorny branches splay
a tumult to belie the grace
that on display they interlace
like rose stems on a breezeless day.
Atop the thatched denuded bole
gush fountains cast in cardamom,
an opalescent diadem
that glistens on the mossy knoll.
In thus exuberant array
do cloistered peacocks mime ballet.
1/20/18
The cloying sangria
of freesias
invades the screen.
Amber bees whine
in wastrel air
like breezeless fans.
My shirt
is porcelain skin.
I dangle one metronome leg
off the arm
of a wicker chair
on the porch
as icebox rivulets
trickle down my sides.
In a far corner
dead flowers
curl
in a glass vase.
The sun descended slowly
Behind the purple hills, sending
Long shadows behind her.
Night enveloped the vista.
I walked barefoot on the beach.
Did I hear sirens singing?
Their alluring song invited.
Come to us, paradise was there.
But I know of their tricks.
Ulysses tied himself fast to a mast
To escape their cannibalistic taste.
I moved on and walked on the sand.
Leaving deep footprints behind me.
Only one pair. Where were the others?
The haggard moon barely showed
What lay ahead. Did I see a small cabin?
The smell of pancakes and coffee
Filled the breezeless air.
I entered and felt elated. For there she was
Ready to meet me and greet me.
Happiness at seeing her so lovely
My love now was filled to the brim.
____________________________________________________________
I am sure everyone knows the story from ancient Greece about Ulysses and his wanderings.
The crescent moon lies upon his back
At the fiery break of day
While Jiminy Cricket sings his favorite tune
As the awesome Morning Star sends forth its full light
Morning Star keeps shining as doves begin to coo
Singing about his beauty
Celebrating with songs of praise
How they enjoy the cool morning and their appreciation rules
Oh!! Soak in the presence of all the wonder
Feel the delight of the new morn
Just the touch of slightly moist air
As it enters the lungs with each breath
Gradually, slowly Mr. Sun shows
A little more colorful light
I can't imagine how the swallows can swoop
When still surrounded with mostly night
Pines' shadowy figures
Stand like sentinels
Still, quiet in the breezeless dawn
Soak in this moment given~ because tomorrow it will be gone
A mackerel sky fillets the village
then hides it in a breezeless blear.
Heads poke out of net drapes
sniff and fish behind trawling curtains.
Shopkeepers brace for
wet dog splatter and spray
for slopping boots and salty puddles.
On the sightless sea
far beyond the shore and shingle,
lost fog horns are lowing deep
like colicky cattle.
Later, misty reeks will be scoured
from groggy docks.
Hauling hands will rope together
tide-tossed tubs,
then tired feet trudge to taprooms
where the brackish parts
of codgers and young alike
can be oiled and quenched.
Like the hush of mobile crystals
stilling, inside a breezeless night
Like the echoes of distant stars
shimmying towards the moon
Its like tendrils of gray smoke
wafting through the temples
A silent Buddha contemplating
beneath the Bodhi tree of life
Inner peace can only be realized
through the senses and the chi
You can only hear its splendor
when your sitting on God's knee.
Sunlight is described on the space where it lays
The sun beams is what lands here and there throughout
A warm feeling is expressed in some fine ways
There’s a sparkle like a jewel all about
Even the tree branches ignite with great pride
Everything around has surely come alive
The pollen glows within the light breezeless air
A calmness exists in excess everywhere
Russell Sivey
Contest: Here comes the sun ...
Sponsor: Francine Roberts
2/1/2014
Once upon a time in an alluring place
Flourishing realm sweet with seasons showers pace
The earth food for life the lush greenness embrace
Array of flowering plants that twirl and lace
Birds twittered on leafy branches full of grace
Rare butterflies with wide, vibrant wings took chase
Bobbing on the breezeless air they dare through space
Charmed fairies if you gaze close into their face
They sniffed the air scared to be spotted they’ll race
Satyrs played pan flutes others danced everyplace
While others sang a phrase carrying a mace
“Steady my heart; scented blooms cannot unlace
The beauty of your face I cannot erase”
Dare venture down a well-trod maze; rocks retrace
Your way back dazed so be prepared just in case
2/13/2017
Poetry Contest: Monorhyme
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
gentle waves
lick the sand
softly they embrace
eternally holding hands
caught in the motion
swaying forever to and fro
violent with a storm;s commotion
or breezeless and ever so slow
it is silent, but for the waves
as they travel endlessly
to the lake they are slaves
never to be free
A mackerel sky fillets the village
then hides it in a breezeless blear.
Heads poke out of net drapes
sniff and fish behind trawling curtains.
Shopkeepers brace for
wet dog splatter and spray
from slopping boots and salty puddles.
On the sight-seeing sea
far beyond the shore and shingle,
lost fog horns are lowing deep
like colicky cattle.
Later, misty reeks will be scoured
from groggy docks.
Hauling hands will rope together
tide-tossed tubs,
then tired feet will trudge to taprooms
where the brackish parts
of codgers and young alike
can be oiled and quenched.
Heavy air on breezeless days
push me under shady trees
sweat stained ball caps
shade red leather faces
Adonis boys display their prowess
to bikini clad Aphrodite
Blood runs hotter than the sun
when darkness hides their passion
5/21/2019
I.
The gales of Hell, they gust my soul;
I shutter up in vain--
Cracked windows of my storm-rent brain,
Shuddering as wind-tides roll.
Rattling rhythms wrack my soul.
The wind-voice screeches out my name
With banshee-clarity and tone
Skirling, high-pitched, like a lone
Lover who slew herself in shame—
Wind-wraith woman howls my name!
II.
The winds wax silent, shorn of sound,
A pall afflicts the land,
Breezeless, arid, bone-strewn sand
There my cerements are found
Rotting on the charnel ground.
without the whirl
of a happy sound
too quiet the fan
the dim lighting
lacking air
sans morning sun
thoughts stifled
with buzzing
the sweat pouring
breezeless tease
dreams of
Winters cloak
the loudness
of the tinkers
like bells
9/5/2018
I.
The gales of Hell, they gust my soul;
I shutter up in vain--
Cracked windows of my storm-rent brain,
Shuddering as wind-tides roll.
Rattling rhythms wrack my soul.
The wind-voice screeches out my name
With banshee-clarity and tone
Skirling, high-pitched, like a lone
Lover who slew herself in shame—
Wind-wraith woman howls my name!
II.
The winds wax silent, shorn of sound,
A pall afflicts the land,
Breezeless, arid, bone-strewn sand
There my cerements are found
Rotting on the charnel ground.