Best Celebrating Poems
With wings of golden starlight your spirits flare
Each woman burst forth a steadfast astral pyre
Your valiant souls are / defying / confining
the tethered snare
Like distant suns that are piercing the boundless mire
With hearts unyielding you are shatter iron grates
Your unshackled wings where shadows once confined
And in your touch,
love's caresses, gentle graces
A serenade of voices, together
softly intertwined.
Through time's grand halls your histories reside
Your footprints pressing...
on ever-shifting sands
With every single verse
a truth you cannot hide
For you mend the world with...
steady guiding hands
O gracious women, blessed with beauty /
fierce and bold.
In every realm
your being we cherish
and behold.
-----
“No matter how tired you are, no matter how physically exhausting this work may be, it's beautiful to bring a smile into someone's life, to care for someone in need. What greater joy can there be?” Mother Teresa
"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will." - Charlotte Brontë
Isn't life a joy beyond imagining
When a child is born to us?
Can there be any greater happening
When families become a chorus?
Oh sweet melody of life's golden symphony
Pregnant seasons birthing spring
Nothing can compare to the cacophony
Of a baby when first she sings.
Look: she smiles, she beams,
Her eyes seraphic twinkle, deep blue-green,
Enchanting, magically enticing, endearing,
Urging her mother to a hug, a kiss
Soft as the early sun on her puffy cheeks.
Captivating, she melts the heart,
Then strikes, straight at the delicious milk
Of her mother's full sweet breast.
In A Perfect World-Celebrating my Faves
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
If life was perfect there would be no more cancer...
There would be no more painful treatments, but more cleansing
of your bones. If only I could drain out your marrow and fill it
with my tender kisses. Every time I see that IV I want to rip it out
and burn it, sending it to the oblivion of hell. You would be living a
healthy, happy and joyous life. Free from the daily struggle to stay alive.
If life was perfect you would be sleeping next to me...
I would wake up and gaze at your perfect skin as you slowly breathe
in and out..in and out..in and out...
Now there is no more breath to feel gently on my neck.
Nights would bring intimacy instead of sorrow,
and mornings would bring me hungry for breakfast,
instead of starving for your touch.
If life was perfect I would hear your soft voice...
Vocalizing with you would be enough to carry me through another
dreadful day. My phone would ring and I would memorize every word you
said and play the tape over and over again. The tone you would portray would
be full of excitement instead of tearful goodbyes. "Oh, please keep talking,
don't let me go...."
If life was perfect we would dance under the constellations.
Hand in hand...body next to body...two becoming one...
with a whisper of tunes we danced to at our wedding. No more bed ridden
days and praying for you to take one more breath. I had a fear of your last breath,
and when it happened my heart stopped beating and my lungs choked up as
I drowned in memories of us under the sad moon. I have named a star after you,
it's called “My Love Sirius”. It shines all night allowing me to see you protect the
earth, like you protected me.
If life was perfect....
our journey of love would be shouted for every year we are on earth together...
"In A Perfect World" Contest
~1st Place~
Date Written: February 15, 2016
As winter twigs drift from the oak
And in between, the flakes evoke
The pulsing bid of snow's adieu,
While lilies wake from a glossed hue.
Then petals frolic in lush grace
Enhancing the aisles with rich displays;
That when at last, in twirls content
Spring bursts into full view, her scent.
Where rows of blooms parade on course
Her varnished tone flushes ashore;
And thrusting through the lustrous sky
The hums of love sweetly reply.
In all its fired intensity
She leaves me wanting for more spree;
When lips bestow a moonlit kiss
Could her July entice a sweet bliss?
Losers Only Contest of Jerry T Curtis
posted 3/22/2016
It's true that I was in town
When the trumpet sound
And soldiers came down
Spilling like ants on the ground:
Heralding the royal feast!
The Gods have had their seats
To celebrate the poet from the east
Whose lyrical prowess beats
The best they've ever heard.
It is heavenly inspired:
The lines of this bard,
His hands neither slack nor feel tired.
Here, the bard comes
Clothed in divine grace!
Let the trumpet sound; beat the drums
Let the world seek his face
For he has the power to heal.
His lines drew angels down
And make kings to kneel.
Let him have his prized crown.
Such is the power of poetry,
It is universal; devoid of bigotry.
It is the king's treasure,
It is a soldier's pleasure.
In that stately estate,
In that heavenly state,
Only to the brave
Would the sky be a grave.
It's true that everyone would die
Someday, that is why
If ever the poet should die;
Let his pen ascend to the sky,
Let heaven and earth mourn,
Let their tears turn to blood;
Let the graceful muses mourn,
Let their tears cause a flood
For the loss is without measure.
But there's end to every beginning
That's why the poet we should treasure
So that if he dies, he dies smiling.
Let the fire from his pen burn
First, in the heart of men
Then to the streets let its face turn,
Let it scorch the land till when
It has reached the palace and its tower
There too let it burn and smoke;
Let it bring every knee under its power,
Let it bring every neck under its yoke.
Such is the power of poetry,
It is universal; devoid of bigotry.
It is the king's treasure,
It is a soldier's pleasure.
In that stately estate,
In that heavenly state,
Only to the brave
Would the sky be a grave.
It's true that poets can be made
As much as they can be born,
There are those who trade in charade;
Who cannot our admiration won.
Behold the ancient bard!
Behold, in the morning he rises
With his book and ink in hand;
As sparkles flash from his eyes.
When in early morning birds are yet mute,
His countenance is always plain
He does not argue nor refute
But undisturbed he always remain!
In the abode of the poet
There is grandeur and majesty
Befitting a grand laureate poet
And a monument of modesty;
He is the poet at heaven's gate
Who have ran a fine race
He will never be late
He holds the ace.
Oh! how gems sparkle from glinted morning dew
Wooing your view, amber rays peeking through,
Enamoring jubilation as missives of love I renew
On halo of golden sun inscribing ovations anew
Blushing purple hues, scintillating skyline blue,
Venerating day precious~ my stellar gift for you.
Arrayed in crystal vase are red-roses you adore
Where silken petals gleam, evoking springs of yore,
In bouquet of our memories exulting evermore,
For you are the love-blossoms my passions implore
Titillating heart today, tomorrow, and forever;
Answering my prayer, you’re life’s holy endeavor.
Birds gently awakened you strumming your song
As cadence of my soul, extolling you sings along,
For endearing is the appeal buoyant on your zeal
Soothing me in your bliss, forlorn tears you heal,
My cheerful theme you are, deity of eternal glee,
You are my voice of poetry, exhilarating as can be.
Fabulously shines your smile on splendor of today
As dreams satiated replay waltzing rhythms of ballet
When lyrical praises of lifelong allegiances convey:
You are the guitar my heartbeats ceaselessly play,
You are the harmonics, tunes of symphonies sway
In chorus of heart’s music celebrating your birthday.
September 4, 2021
Poem of the day on September 6, 2021
Placed 3rd: Premium contest--A poem to your spouse
Sponsor: Funom Makama
FOLLOWING FOOTPRINTS
by Carolyn Devonshire
Following footprints in the sand
Across the beach, down to the sea
I picture you, hardy and tanned
Always joyful, always carefree
Your righteous path is hard to trace
Following footprints in the sand
Such soft impressions waves erase
I wish you could lead, take my hand
When you were with me, life seemed grand
I wasted not one bit of time
Following footprints in the sand
For with you, any hill I’d climb
We’ll meet again; I’ll join you soon
Our long-lost friends will be on hand
To launch our cosmic honeymoon
Following footprints in the sand
________________
"Her sweet soul left for Heaven in the morn'
on wings she flew over ocean waves of blue
and I heard her silent whisper- do not mourn
my death, for I am with you as morning dew"
_by Constance
Carolyn and I, shared many heartbreaks in life, some very
similar. In her poem, Following Footprints she is writing
about the love of her life for many years, who has passed
away. The poem speaks to me deeply, as I also lost the love
of my life to death. I have always been touched by her love
for the sea, and now she follows her beloved into the waves as
her ashes have been or will be sprinkled there. I find that so
beautiful. I will never look at the sea again the same way,
for she will be in every wave. Now, the two lovers are united.
______________________
August 17, 2021
Poetry/Quatern/Celebrating Carolyn's Poetry: An Uncontest
Copyright Protected, ID 08- 1381-649-17
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Celebrating Carolyn's Poetry: An Uncontest
sponsor, Andrea Deitrich, Judged 09/19/2021
First Place
”Christmas is for celebrating with those near and dear, the day that the world was kissed with God’s glorious gift.”
Quote - Poet’s own
It will be lonesome my darling
On this special day of the year
Yet feel the love I am sending
Whispered heart to heart sincere.
I hear joyful church bells chiming
With a message ringing out clear
All will be well from this day on
For sweet baby Jesus is here.
Tidings of elation sweetheart
Jubilance from heavenly love
You are in safe hands I promise
Medics skilled with gifts from above.
There placed beneath the Yuletide tree
Is a poem for you dear heart
With words written only for you
The inspiration of my art.
Home is wherever the heart is
There is nothing that could compare
Being with you by the fireside
Snuggled up in a cosy chair.
Santa Claus by special request
Direct my love back to the nest.
The frost has arrived on grass that has grayed,
emerald turned crimson with comfort and ease-
barren branches withered as they swayed,
as Summertime bids farewell to the warm breeze.
Emerald turned crimson with comfort and ease.
My pastels sketch October’s tangerine sunset,
as Summertime bids farewell to the warm breeze.
For this is the season I shan’t ever forget.
My pastels sketch October’s tangerine sunset,
and o, that sky in morn; inhaling serenity-
For this is the season I shan’t ever forget,
if only I had grandma’s warm apple pie recipe.
And o, that sky in morn; inhaling serenity,
old leaves decay resting upon dry fields, array-
If only I had grandma’s warm apple pie recipe,
and drink Starbuck’s warm pumpkin spice latte.
Old leaves decay resting upon dry fields, array.
Soon, I shall be the queen of a candy machine
and drink Starbuck’s warm pumpkin spice latte;
for it’s October, the month we celebrate Halloween.
Soon, I shall be the queen of a candy machine,
barren branches withered as they swayed;
for it’s October, the month we celebrate Halloween - - -
the frost has arrived on grass that has grayed.
October 1, 2019
Poet's October Pantoum Cash Prize Poetry Contest
William Kekaula
Within the pause of each heartbeat within
In the void of polarity exchange
We feel love calling as bliss ignition
Spacial stillness arousing stirrings strange
Consciousness expansion invisible
Entwined with all of divine creation
Nestled in our hearts love glow spherical
Invokes each life throb in celebration
Each moment of the life flow intimate
Uninhibited embrace and release
In rippleless calm our heart yet gyrates
With eternal witness within at ease
Dynamic stillness and vibrant silence
Endearing persona of innocence
28-November-2020
America, a breakthrough, an idea, an emancipation,
a beginning, a hard fought war, uncivil, a dream.
America, a balance, not teetering, yes - tottering
on ideals. Ideals that freed slaves and women.
America, when the world was caving in from the East
and West, with bruised and bloody knees, praying.
America, its red white and blue; its stripes and stars.
In its stitches, we recall the mess, the yesterdays.
America, the bold and brave, the steadfast, dreamers.
An experiment, a Republic with enduring life.
America, a melting pot, well-spoken, pilgrims, big shots.
Don’t we have it all…we do…best not to lose it.
America, its flag big and tall, its tiny Southern towns,
its grand ranches and endless sky; its bright cities,
its colorful canyons and mountains, windy plains,
its tumbleweed and cactuses, its Yellowstone cliffs.
America, a playground for visitors, a new world.
It’s the cowboys, Indians, the rich and poor.
A mixed bag of dreamers, trying to make their mark,
allowed more than a buck, getting their butts in gear.
It was Washington’s rejection of a King, an idea of
4 to 8 years, a balance, three cheers, a circle unbroken.
America, blessed, beautiful, sparkling with pride,
sweeping the sidewalks of time, never forgetting
but always moving into the future. Let’s not divide.
Pass on to our children love, warmth, fortitude.
America, change us? America, rearrange us?
America, keep its safety, its dream, its place?
America, let us wave, welcome and behave, be wild,
be spoiled, be a harbor and a chance, hope in God.
The sea is rough and I never learned to swim
So I won't push the boat out
I won't push the boat out
I shall stay on shore and have a feast
Of delicious happy thoughts and plans
For treats and pleasures coloured pink
With my extraordinary friends and swap stories
About how we survived so far and feel proud.
Then maybe we shall play some cards or paint a picture
Perhaps sing a song filled with nostalgia and cry while
We celebrate each other with toasts made of sparkles
And effervesse with happy feelings and love for each other!
On Monday the 1st of May.
We will celebrate this very special day,
Balloons will float through the sky.
So if you see us letting them off you will know the reason why,
We are celebrating 30 years to this very day,
The day our lives changed forever,
The day the bully was not so clever.
The moral of this story is in.
The fact that you must never let the bully win.
No matter how scared you really are inside,
No matter how many tears you have cried.
So if you look up and see one of our balloons floating in the sky
You will know the reason why.
Celebrating the Adventure of Advent
Universal elegy grieves and yet embraces shifts of paradigm
New beginnings consciousness initiates comprehends and thus proceeds from
Illusion’s delusion collusions misconceptions in the irritating
Vortex whirlpool immanent void of false containment
Enlightenment modern postmodern retro visionary futuristic aspirations
Resound in dialectical rebirth rejuvenation germinate constructive
Sense meaning reflect serenity’s tentative confidence that the
Agony of climate change greed warfare ignorance destructive apathy
Liberates fusion confusion necessitates Aquarian communication of
Antagonism’s polar opposites contradictions complements
Cycles spheres of influence of grave repression gravitate
Revolve resolve with pushing pulling moons in metaphorical
Orbital mental psychological initiation shape incidences
Synchronicities collateral communal reason feeling responsibility
Transformation of the global madness inhumanity conjoins
Idealism and the darker side’s fallacies of fabrication
Conspiracy of muted spirit silence violation fade away transform to novel script
Communication courses discourses concur in co-operation
Obvious obscurity in the blip of human race’s evolution delimits
Limitations iron cages hopes for new time place of reason beyond
Laissez-faire and hippie psychedelic stream of consciousness afar from
Anarchy self-righteous slavery rebellion mindlessness
Big oppressive bangs big brother’s obliterating over-information with
Onslaught of technology fail and falter when simplicity and esoteric
Rationale comprise enhance encompass the necessary world view shifts
Ascent and ever changing climax revitalizes humanness thus gifts
Truth deriving comprehension from ‘objective’ communal subjectivity with
Intuition insight inclination outside from the rigid boxed conformity
Order may be found again in the chaos of our time of misrepresented bedlam
New Age Aquarius delivers acts upon fresh constellation contemplates the Universe
Kai Michael Neumann
07th June 2016
When love is in the making,
hearts are celebrating....
romance in a kiss...in loves gentleness,
when love is in the making,
Yes, hearts are celebrating...
love is in the making...
In loves tenderness, hers and his...
hearts are celebrating,
Yes, hers and his share loves tenderness...
romance in a kiss...in loves gentleness,
When love is in the making, hearts are celebrating...
love is in the making.