Best Chantilly Poems
She sits in silence at the end of day
Beside the fire that barely warms the air
Her mind in anguish, threads that tend to fray
Companionless, within a room austere.
Like a carousel swirling around me
Are faces, places, traces of my life
These disjointed images confound me
Recollections sliced by a jagged knife.
The curtains drawn; the door chains are in place
Her thoughts are roaming down the paths of night
A hint of sadness settles on her face
As shadows flicker in the waning light.
There was a man, can’t remember his name
But such fine features graced his handsome face
My wild, young heart his soothing words would tame
As I danced with him in chantilly lace.
She can’t help thinking of the years that pass
The complications of advancing age
Life hard to handle just like fragile glass
Progressive weakness in initial stage.
How easily we swayed across the floor
Effortlessly as an orchestra played
An oceanside hall at some unknown shore
Lord knows, I felt like such a lucky maid!
She fears the fading of a priceless stock
Each recollection slipping from her grip
Memorabilia gathered round the clock
Accumulated in her lifetime trip.
Oh, to feel young and pain-free one more time
But this man’s gone now, and with him, my hope
My mind wanders back to days of my prime
As I tread on senility’s tightrope.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
*Poem co-written by Paul Callus and Carolyn Devonshire
He can’t forget her face and how that night
she said, “I love you” going out the door.
Her fragrance lingered when she’d left his sight.
It was Chantilly, that sweet scent she wore.
She crashed her car and died, and now each day
he thinks of how he’d once asked what he’d do
without her. He had said, “There’s just no way
that I could go on, Honey, without you.”
She’d touched his cheek and whispered, “Don’t you know
I’d never leave you? That’s a promise, Dear.
If even death should take me, I would show
you somehow, my beloved, that I were near.”
He “feels” her even now inside their room.
She visits him with scent of her perfume.
Sept. 26, 2019
"Destined to Love"
twilight Moon cascades, haunting tapestry
as hearts incline to secrets of mellow night
clandestine caresses embrace 'neath canopy
lovers silhouette engage in sweet romantic flight
ascending to voluminous height.
in ebony atmosphere, flirtatious fondling ignites fire
as breathless succulence invades flesh and bone
with adventurous satisfaction, love pursues deepest desire
while sequined stars illuminate soft tone
captivating aura of mysterious moan.
forbidden fruit lies tenderly amidst dew-kissed heather
hypnotic force of true love refused to be denied
petite vision in chantilly lace and supple leather
emotions escalate vast inner feelings to subside
love conquers life, happiness cried.
a lovers touch creates palatial garden of delight
a beautiful expression accentuating rare romance
inhaling fragile fragrance although their precious plight
encircles pair in eternal dance
succumbing to the power of temptation's trance.
twilight Moon cascades, haunting tapestry
gently, pure white wings of turtledove
whispers an evening song 'neath lovely canopy
while heavenly stardust shimmers from above
smiling upon lovers destined to love.
*For old romantic poems Contest..
Oh the images we freeze in time
the sweet, sweet scents that bring recall
the sharp and painful longing that belongings bring
for those lost or lingering on sheets of lavender
on shelves of shaving mugs - Old Spice
soap roped in shower stalls.
Oh the images warmed and torn, sun burnt to brown
upon what's left of glossy crenulated sheets
showing frozen plumped out peeks of
blistering love, gape toothed girls
and sour apple dreams.
We freeze in time on scrapes and shards
on compasses far from the woodlands scene
the tobacco scent of Papa, his yellowed fingers
as they touched my dimpled chin,
blue eyes behind wire rims.
The sweet, sweet scents that bring recall
White Shoulder's between her wholesome breasts
Mother's satin, Chantilly drenched negligee
and father's black onyx ring
ah, I still have him.
The sharp and painful longing that belongings bring
guilty pleasures hidden from the public's tut-tuting eyes
hoarded in ornate boxes, or pressed between stout boards
relentless, heartless is the passing
passing into the frayed, worn fringes
of our dollop of mirrored time.
For those lost or lingering on sheets of lavender
with drawers of balsam pillows to recall the olden days
bring forth the buds which bloom on taffy and apple pie
do not forget the taste of the love
the cotton candy kisses
their first chocolate cone.
On shelves of shaving mugs - Old Spice
soap roped in shower stalls, no sense comes
without its call to memory. Oh you do not sit alone,
play all the old tunes from radio days
and invite your loved ones
to come home.
This is my form it is called Etcetera.
Definition: Write a line or a stanza, take from that line or stanza words in the
order they were written [ from 1 word to whole lines or phrases] begin your
next stanza with it continue until you have written using all the words in the
order written in the line or stanza being explored in depth in a stream of
internal dialogue. ALL poetic devises/tropes may be used INCLUDING internal
rhyme. The verse may be as long or short as you wish, no meter required, no
syllable count.
I would say Etcetera and Blitz are sub forms of Free Verse - Stream of
Consciousness - Etcetera- Blitz
Darlene De Beaulieu graciously consented for her poem "Gnomes" to be used by me in this contest. Thank you Darlene!
There’s no gnome
like the gnome at home.
I have a gnome at home alone.
Chantilly, Chris, or Charlie -
they’re friends for you and me.
Your tumbler sweet
sure is neat to greet
you no matter where is the street,
but remember no gnome is known
like the gnome that waits at home.
Gnomes – Darlene de Beaulieu
I love the gnomes
I m drawn to them
One time I had twelve
I named all of them
I named him Chris
He holds a gift for me
Another one I named
Charlie
I have a tumbler
With gnomes and hearts
shapes
When waiting in a line
It called out to me
So I bought it
I take my tumbler
everywhere I go
She sits in silence at the end of day
Beside the fire that barely warms the air
Her mind in anguish, threads that tend to fray
Companionless, within a room austere.
Like a carousel swirling around me
Are faces, places, traces of my life
These disjointed images confound me
Recollections sliced by a jagged knife.
The curtains drawn; the door chains are in place
Her thoughts are roaming down the paths of night
A hint of sadness settles on her face
As shadows flicker in the waning light.
There was a man, can’t remember his name
But such fine features graced his handsome face
My wild, young heart his soothing words would tame
As I danced with him in chantilly lace.
She can’t help thinking of the years that pass
The complications of advancing age
Life hard to handle just like fragile glass
Progressive weakness in initial stage.
How easily we swayed across the floor
Effortlessly as an orchestra played
An oceanside hall at some unknown shore
Lord knows, I felt like such a lucky maid!
She fears the fading of a priceless stock
Each recollection slipping from her grip
Memorabilia gathered round the clock
Accumulated in her lifetime trip.
Oh, to feel young and pain-free one more time
But this man’s gone now, and with him, my hope
My mind wanders back to days of my prime
As I tread on senility’s tightrope.
*Poem co-written by Paul Callus and Carolyn Devonshire
I cherish you betwixt
the spaces of darkness
& white lightning,
creative spiritedness
amidst insecurities,
Chantilly lavender lace 'neath
abrasive gunnysack burlap,
mid late night news & poetry of early
dawning 'pon acquiescently sleepless nights,
'tween whispered wisps of lilting light
and duskily echoed shadows
catching twilit moonbeams whilst
stargazing midst your eyes,
enveloping infinite expanses
which rapturously
invoke none other
A zephyr skipped along, midday,
Rose-daubed my cheek in ides of May,
As if to goad, and giggling, say -
'My lad, this moment's wasting ...
Such zest waits for the tasting!'
The sea was donning Sunday's best,
With shimmered pearls upon its breast,
Its voice reminding from each crest -
'My lad, the hours are wasting ...
Such wine awaits the tasting!'
New heather danced atop the hills,
With white and pink Chantilly frills,
And sang to me with plaintive trills -
'My lad, the day's a-wasting ...
Such fare waits for the tasting!'
The creeping dusk, swathed in the moon,
Enchanted, blue, each dale and dune,
Then, tender-voiced, began to croon -
'My lad, the night-tide's wasting ...
Romance awaits the tasting!'
Oh, months and years go far too fast,
As dreams are swallowed by the past,
But time still beckons, clear and vast -
'My lad, each breath is wasting ...
There's life left for the tasting!'
There's LIFE left, yet ... so TASTE it!'
(SHORT) SONG OF AN OLD GROUCH
Itty bitty pretty kitty
Sing a sentimental ditty
Furry puppy woofy wuffy
Wrapped in toilet tissue fluffy
Daffodilly bright and frilly
Flutter like a girl’s Chantilly
Maids in dresses white with lace
Smiles as void as outer space
Package them in fresh brown paper
Tie with string - and light with taper
Free of all that cuteness sweet
Give me plate of raw red meat
~
A halo of amber, the clouds to ignite
Still in the heavens this cold winter day
Rose petal whispers, a scent wafts in flight
Meandering softly to take me away
Dreaming horizons in quiet repose
Morning awakens, sweet cantaloupe lace
Azure reminders in Chantilly bows
Warm the encounter, this sunrise embrace
Daylight now blooming, it’s daffodil shine
Lingers my thoughts of this heavenly view
Knowing this dawn that I see can be mine
Hoping this moment will bring me to you
~
As I sat in my living room
On my cozy big fluffy oarnge
sofa chair, sipping on a cup of
steaming chamomile tea, with
lemon, perched on a yellow porcelain
saucer, and while daydreaming out the
large bay window with chantilly lace
beige curtains... I viewed the funny face
full moon amongst a black curtain of night
time sky. Twinkles of light sparked my
thoughts to invite the light of the moon
inside my soul in order to transform my
spirite into nothing but kindness and compassion.
The moon accepted my invitation in exchange for
blessings and prayers.
"Wonderland in Whiteness"
Whiteness is the fairest color of flawless perfection
a vibrant tapestry of Creation's affection
a masterpiece of beauty; pure as a sinless soul
a delicate crafting, so intimate, a treasure of wondrous whole.
bright magical color of purity and grace
an infinite vision swirling in chantilly lace
fluffy couds floating in marshmallow montage'
with a canvas of stars twinkling in a heavenly collage'.
slow gentle spiral of snowflakes escaping from skies
while white essence of dove feeding lost lovers cries
as those White Cliffs of Dover reflect cresting waves
and mountain peaks slumber, caressing Sun, craves.
the brilliant Hope Diamond sparkles white glimmer
the Camelot Era revels in White Knight shimmer
as street lanterns illuminate glow, effervescent,
young hearts inhale breathless love, luminescent.
Whiteness welcomes the depth and the breath of soft fabric
as positive vibes infiltrate as sheer magic
while Planets of Earth weave a web of delight
all humanity extols the Heavenly White Knight
the Light of the World
whose persona shines white.
*For Anthony Slauson's Whiteness Contest.
*Oct. 3, 2012
Spindly stretching brambles rebel from main form
Amused bending stems eject spikes of rhino horn
Thorns barely a repellent for birds resourceful
Tweezer glowing twilight globe, a bitter morsel
Fresh field alien green cone births berry's infant
Chantilly lace pale pink petticoat wraps nymphet
Confetti celebratory moult bulges her fertility
Eighty protruding bulbs shiver in vulnerability
Stern season carousel chastens scanty branches
Snow swallow, boggy terrain new tepid attaches
Saw edge foliage unfold, twitching fox ears
Clusters encombour limbs, absinthe adheres
Florid flocks tossle, augment midnight family babble
Morning dew melt sapor stains fingers which dabble
Outcast tongue teaser, lumpy rubber cleaved
Mauve motivate jaunty juice, mouth received
9th August 2022
Written for Contest:
Thoughts on Blackberries
Sponsor:
Matt Caliri
Gossamer
morning mist
vanishes
Ancient sun
shimmering
welcoming
Filigree
embellished
aurora
Chantilly
laced silence
awakens
Crystalline
dew sweetened
surprises
Meadowlark's
exquisite
melody
Delicate
violet
carnival
Pomander
lavender
fragrances
Soft velvet
Mossy wet
coverlets
Green clover
slipper soft
carpeting
Catharsis
of the soul
transcending
_________________________________
Inspired by the "Ellip" Contest...sponsored by Gigno
While all parked in their separate places
Couples were watching the Submarine Races
Trying hard not to show their faces
The chicks with all of their graces
Put their tops back on - their Chantilly Laces!