Best Chagrined Poems
The breeze annoying trees entices me,
I drift away afar to fields abloom,
with silver tongues untied their whispers free—
..ah prairie-weed does burn a sweet perfume.
The flowered spikes do strike a reminisce,
the musky scent upon each purple spear…
your kiss, our bliss… you I miss… you I miss—
I fall upon each heady spear, despite the golden air.
The gilt-edged frills and thrills of summer days— that flutter!
The guilt-wedged sway and suede of lusty meadow sage.
The jilted sun, once young, still shines above the haze— that clutter…
an unfledged page from when we came of age.
I linger lone and lost and loathe the lure of wind
as fuzzy leaves flaunt drizzle beads beneath the clouds chagrined.
Open like a door before me
Be it sun or rain or stormy
Each new year gapes like yawning chasms, dark
And for all my silly scheming
All my notions and my dreaming
Passion's flames won't ever light without a spark
(Oh New Year please burn bright for me)
I can not see your face from here
But how I long to draw you near
And hold you to my bosom like a child
Oh New Year, won't you sing for me
And drown the sad cacophony
Of all the years behind me, lost and wild
(Oh New Year please burn bright for me)
You see, I'd been to hell and back
A hundred times when I lost track
Of all the hopes that blossomed in my youth
With poisons making life surreal
I'd lost the will to thrive or feel
Until the kiss of death revealed my truth
(Oh New Year please burn bright for me)
This year I dream of someone new
The mirrored face that longs to do
The things that he has loosened to the wind
To let go of the fears that bind
That paralyze his heart and mind
And never feel embarrassed or chagrined
(Oh New Year please burn bright for me)
I want to grasp life with both hands
To twirl my spirit on the sands
Of time, and never look back to redeem
But make the most of moments, each
Let laughter, love and friendship teach
My soul the things I never dared to dream
(Oh New Year please burn bright for me)
Burn bright with the hopes of my music and pen
Burn bright with the fire that can love me again
Burn bright with the dreams that churn deep in my heart
Burn bright with the flames of a joyous new start
(Oh New Year please burn bright for me)
And I will burn bright ... for YOU.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Soon It Will Be 2019" Poetry Contest, Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer, Judge & Sponsor.
When England’s fairest rose
strained to find a light
neath the monarchy’s shadows,
such passion did she incite.
Many are the years since
Lady Diana Spencer
met and married her prince,
believing that he loved her.
Unrequited affection
she tried to brush aside.
Poised was her reflection;
tears she sought to hide.
Princess Di’s quest for love
drew her to the masses,
who adored this precious dove,
more fragile than glass is.
A candle caught by harsh wind,
extinguished far too young,
left the monarchy chagrined;
her popularity stung.
In death as she was in life,
she’s treasured in people’s hearts,
for kindness is always rife
in the love a People’s Princess imparts.
*Inspired by Elton John’s “Candle in the Wind,” which he performed at Diana’s funeral.
The wayward wind forever so aloof
across the prairie blowing wild and free;
just like a herd of horses on the hoof,
and running loose with nature’s grand esprit.
A restless spirit is this wayward child
who’s never satisfied in just one place;
she longs to solve the secrets of the wild,
and ne’er her ventured steps will she retrace.
A wayward heart is like the wayward wind,
forever restless, always on the move,
and always searching, seeking, ne’er chagrined;
she’ll leave you lonely and her love disprove.
Beware, before you carelessly depart,
don't wrap your love around a wayward heart.
January 8, 2020
The gate to Monet’s Japanese garden’s open,
beckoning, and green as Giverny’s winter wheat,
but there’s no time to glimpse the pond’s lilies within.
Monet’s Rose Cottage-locked to all but the wrens-
though curved trellises invite, and a path entreats;
the gate to Monet’s Japanese garden is open,
but the tour bus’s door closes, we can’t go inside.
Deep within submerged, asleep, in their frosted retreat
but there’s no time to glimpse the pond’s lilies within.
Black skies sully the palette, a torrent begins
all hope lost in the thunder’s accompanying beat.
The gateway to Monet’s Japanese garden is open;
with a glance, we leave; we can say that we’ve been?
A dream sought, not found, Normandy’s gem incomplete.
but there’s no time to glimpse the pond’s lilies within.
Accustomed to beauty, the plump driver’s chagrined;
yet, he’s kept to schedule; we’ve stayed in our seats.
The gate to Monet’s Japanese garden is open,
but there’s no time to glimpse the pond’s lilies within.
First Published in Allegro Poetry Magazine Fall 2015
(Your chickens always come home to roost.)
My soul cries out each time I see your face.
My hunger for your love does not abate.
Though I'm chagrined at how my pulses race
desire burns and sucker bites the bait.
You dangle me, a puppet on a chain,
in shame, I dance around you like a flame.
As turmoil reigns, my tears stream down like rain;
raw wounds cut deep while you enjoy the game.
But time will bring your chickens home to roost
and future pill will be a bitter brine.
Perhaps someday your heart will be seduced
as you succumb to Casanova's line.
For then will Lucifer raw fate assign,
and my atonement taste like peace divine?
On a warm, dew-weakened day,
Watching the grey void of a lost
Sense, anxious moments recline
On whiffs of ancestral propitiations
When rafters regain possession of
Filched roast fish, balanced with
The fumes of a wild dance heckled
By chokes of a chagrined weekend.
Who rises faster than smokes of a
Low tar, ascending
Gently,
Whimsically,
Lazily,
With rings of white life
Extinguished through banalities,
Through clamoured waste? . . .
Such rise — gay, sensuous rise
Of the thin beam,
Goes with every thread of meaning
Long since posted on the banner of
Meaningful dreams.
His love never fails,
like a light who dispels
Even the darkest night
Ending all dread and fright
His love, like the wind
Kisses away the chagrined
Defeating doubts with hope
Assuring hearts they can cope.
His love inspires my soul,
Finds a way to make me whole,
Without Him, I’d be so lost,
Only love can know the cost.
His love, abides within me,
He won my heart, set me free.
Without His love, I’d still be blind,
He has blessed all humankind.
His love fills my soul with light,
Stills the fears with love so bright.
Not one shadow can scatter His peace,
Because of Him, assurance will never cease.
His love, inspires me to give,
With a full heart, one who’ll ever live,
Because He is mine, I can believe,
When He comes again, I will leave…
To be with Jesus, my heart’s grace
I can’t wait to see Him face-to-face.
When I put my hand in His, I’ll see,
Sacred love who paid the price for me!
You built a castle out of breath,
And placed your trust inside its walls,
Defying gravity and death,
Before the sudden shadow falls.
You listened to the golden word,
And let it anchor in your chest,
The sweetest song you ever heard,
A gentle bird within its nest.
But words are vapor in the wind,
And vows can vanish overnight,
Leaving the fragile mind chagrined,
To watch the tether fade from sight.
That’s how the quiet fractures grow,
Inside the chambers of the mind,
When you believe in promises,
And leave all caution far behind.
The sharpest shatter comes from trust,
A sudden, heavy, crushing blow,
That turns the silver into dust,
And leaves you bleeding in the snow.
I listen to the wind as it dries my tears
because its flowing current is wiser than all my years.
~ Quote by poet
Wind is never silent, echoing its cries
It sings in the night to stars in celestial skies
Stories are told upon the rushing wind
but in the telling, never does it feel chagrined.
Quicker than a heartbeat, it errantly flies.
Across mountain peaks its music is heard.
In its harmony, I hear every word.
I feel the cold of its temperate sting
and with its beckoning lyrics, I sing.
When its message touches me, I'm stirred.
In a gentle voice through meadows, it talks
I feel like chasing it on morning walks
I'd rise with wildflowers to take flight,
soaring to the moon at its zenith height,
if I had pinion wings like eagles and hawks.
I listen to the wind as it howls without grace,
When it blows waves of saltwater in my face.
It speaks of love in such a solemn breath
In its stillness, I hear it mourning death.
Never, for very long does it stay in one place.
Gods of mythology from long ago,
commanded humans act within their law
or else there might be punishment, and so
man worshiped, followed, never to withdraw.
These gods ruled over sun, moon, rain, and wind;
and humans prayed to them for harmony.
Now in our world, they would be quite chagrined
by skies so full of our technology.
Our airplanes, jets, and rockets would incite,
and put them in a frenzy of despair
with terror in their skies both day and night,
and techno signals bouncing everywhere.
Apollo, Zeus, Poseidon, Jupiter
you would go crazy in these modern days.
The sun and sky and sea do now concur
your power has been lost to nature's ways.
No more your lightning and loud thunderclaps.
No more your floods from storms that you set free.
No more a drought to make the crops collapse.
No more the sinking of great ships at sea.
We have since learned about our universe;
that earth is reigned by scientific means.
New rules for skies and land and sea traverse;
No gods of mystery behind the scenes.
We now can travel land and sea, and oh,
the sky and outer space, our playground too.
Gods of mythology from long ago
you must be crazy since we've dismissed you.
Your paintings and stone statues all remain
and written history still stirs the mind.
Gods of mythology, it's clearly plain
you served a purpose to ancient mankind.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: YGGDRASIL ME
Sponsor: White Wolf
Judged: 05/20/2017
~2nd Place~
Contest: The Gods Must Be Crazy
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 01/18/2016
Goldie, my peculiar but beloved cat,
has certain affectations --
she prefers, most times, her own society
and shuns her housemates.
But, sometimes, she cuddles
or will join the others
to laze around -- in the living room,
the dining room, a hallway, or
in the kitchen.
An inside cat who, early on,
suffered the indignity of
"the operation,"
she asserts her independence
by darting into the front yard
when a door is opened --
and she pointedly ignores
any calls or pleas to come inside.
But when the door shuts
and no one is around, she is fearful,
immediately climbing up into the ash tree.
And there she stays
until I come to coax her down.
She may climb high up
and, finally, shakily manage
a descent to allow me to pick her up
and carry her back inside.
She never leaves the yard
but does enjoy ignoring me
when I am in a hurry.
She will dart about and run
from one side of the yard to the other.
For her, it's only an infrequent game.
And, as my treasured pet,
she certainly deserves to play
while testing the limit
of my affectionate, chagrined
commitment.
In simpler times this one-room school was new.
Now, standing near her timeworn frame, I cry.
Yet here in bygone days fine children grew.
A belfry white, with red brick walls stacked high.
Slate shingles on its roof held rains at bay,
and hearth-stoked fires kept students warm and dry.
The years have seen the brick and timbers sway.
Her memories are echoes on the wind,
yet voices from that past still beg us, stay!
I wish this plot of earth could once rescind
and rejoin times those joyful children knew.
Time and decay mean such dreams be chagrined.
On this ground youth and learning both rang true,
the one-room school of ancient, weathered hue.
One Room School
terza rima
cheerless, wretched life
failure cycling
gaping rictus of
disheartened gloom
preying on
my soul’s regret
faith chagrined
headlong plummet
into darkness’
gaping maw
I depart
oblivion
Embarrassing Moment
Mid-Sixties, I went to the shore
A hot summer day, so I wore
My handmade swimsuit
It was very cute
Expecting I was, and I swore,
It looked just as nice as can be
My tummy was covered, you see
The shorts were cut out
For belly to sprout
Top flared over shorts demurely.
At once came along a great wind
My top flew right up and chagrined
By this great surprise
To see with my eyes
My tummy exposed as bare-skinned!
But now in these new modern days
No problem with bumps that amaze
Those covered or bare
Don't bring on a stare
When dressed up in clingy arrays
Back then we were less indiscreet
Maternity clothes for the street
Were tents that flowed wide
To hide what's inside
Our bumps took a private backseat!
So when my bare belly stuck out
So shocked, I spun 'round with a shout
Grabbed towel up fast
Embarrassed, aghast
I covered it up without doubt!
Date: October 15, 2015
Contest Name: Make Me Actually LOL
Sponsor: Nina Paramenter