Best Cameo Poems
It was not the mountains.. those that dwarf us,
the forests that invited our senses...seduced us to stay.
Nor the oceans whose mass we contained within us,
creatures small and large...some we loved and others feared.
Not,
the floating rain, the clouds...kind or angry,
the sky bright or blackboard black,
the falling leaves or those who held on tight,
the multiverse of colors sharp or flat.
NOT...the seasons that in all their glory arrived
or stepped away as their sister or brother took the stage.
Every inch of our untouched world chants to our sensibilities,
the perfect candidate to rule our internal domain.
Life in its all knowing way
has always bestowed us with gifts,
unfolded miracles in our wake,
other times challenged us in a rage.
Our world would take an eon to notate.
Not,
those particles...each made the whole,
stirred our voices...drew from us...song.
We,
are only messengers.
Our words not our own.
Some call it passion, others magic, they also call it art.
Some suggest it comes from the heart.
Whatever you call it, this mystical harbinger
who through us communicates...
it is he, she, responsible for what we loosely term art.
Poetry like all the arts...never began as such...
rather it is integral to just being.
IT is US...
just ask the lady with the pen and pad
writing while driving her car...
it is a part of our existence
...it has always been.
poets would write,
even...
if they lived in a vacuum.
Summer
Sabra
chocolate orange
Singing taste of tupelo mead
memories
still tease and test my thirsty tongue
I stand in chocolate mint
Alone
Yours, the pale-shelled cameo, dear
Moon-skied, Night-worn.
Hung from its pure starred necklace.
Pearls of the high-born!
Of you what's mythic featured
Afar, as dream-lit
Alike within clasping's reach.
Alike to claim it.
I reach
To touch the face of beauty
But it’s not there when I try
I’m alone
Captured by the darkness of night
Not able to fall asleep
To dream
Cameo syllable count is 2,5,7,3,8,7,2, unrhymed
~All That I Want ~
( English Cameo )
You're my
Darling sweetheart
Just thinking of you all the time
You're my all
And all I want always it's you
Don't ever doubt I love you
My love.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2017
May.19.2017
“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
- Mark Twain-
~Author's Notes:
The " English Cameo" is a poetry form or style that was invented by a member of Poets Roundtable of Arkansas (PRA).
T20 is its new name
a fast action cricket game
Now, has world-wide acclaim-
An evening sport of my youth
Re-packaged..in truth ..long -in-the-tooth
NOTE:Twenty overs a side cricket,under lights, is set to rival soccer as a
spectator sport,was played in the early 'f'ifties as an amateur evening league
after work,lasting approx two hours,in May thru July before the evening light
faded.Nothing new under the sun,except for marketing men! Watch out this could become as popular as soccer now is at female level in parts of US ....might even compete with baseball at pro level !Now that would be something!
Barking
She gets attention
Lucky knows just what to do
For some treats
She begs for me to let her out
Does business, then she returns
Good girl
Cameo syllable count is 2,5,7,3,8,7,2, unrhymed
A stone font and white duck found it renown
This ancient saxon hill-fort town-
Growing to wealth around its four squares
With regular markets and seasonal fairs
Buying and selling sheep,cattle and mares.
Tribute to my hometown Aylesbury
Spiritual fruits upon a tree
Ripened,ready for all to see;
Sincere,gentle inwardly kind
Set at one,in a peace-filled mind;
Temperate,diligent and pure
Understanding& perseverance will nurture;
Brotherly love and hope will ensure
An orchard in bloom until mature.
~Christmas Time Again~
(Cameo)
Christmas
Time is here again
Season of sharing, love, and joy
Wish for peace
Time to be glad Savior was born
Think of others that have less
And give.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2009
December.24.2015
Visiting Aunt Juanita,
in Pocahontas nursing home,
we met her roommate,
Jennie Butler.
Jenny loved to tell jokes,
and laughed often.
She sang gospel songs,
her voice filling the air
with sweetness,
as her face reflected joy.
No one would guess
she lay, day after day,
a prisoner to stiffness and pain.
Her hands and feet
were gnarled, swollen,
and burning with sting.
Today, Jennie is free.
In heavenly array,
and joyous abandon
she's singing still,
in celestial tone,
our welcome home.
Upon my face of earthenware
So many feet have laid bare
Maiolica wearing thin-
My colours now growing dim
Revealing my kaolin
She is
Lightning and thunder
But yet loving and so kind
She’s gentle
She’s the strongest person I know
Gives of herself to many
My love
She’s my life
She loves me always
I, too, love her in all ways
She holds my heart for eternity
Allowing love that flows on
Into the dark nights
She’s my wife
Fuel and food for thee & me
To Noah a sign of life
And others ,a symbol to end strife-
A pictorial arbor emblem
To encompass God's kingdom
A kingdom of the Gael
Lying well outside the Pale !
Subjects of an Ardri Lord
From Clare to Kerry
And Cork to Waterford