Best Chaperon Poems
glass-like smooth of even's yawn
just I, myself, with one cob swan
trace cursive paths upon the lake
for we’re both OF the earth, not on
so sets the sun to blow a kiss -
in hushed glissades of feral bliss
cleaving surface - gentle wakes
o surely heaven’s much like this
swan and I, we share these eves
in feathered white tuxedo sleeves
he follows while I row the skiff -
my chaperon as daylight leaves
I think perhaps he's lonely, too
a-searching for a soul-mate who
shares his love of blushing skies
and parting mirrored lakes anew
the water's darkened interludes
reflect both images and moods
hopes we held of love this morn
are put to bed as day concludes
ere we meet when dusk is drawn
I’ll say a prayer that he'll be gone
that one of us shall find true love ...
for we’re both OF the earth, not on.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 9" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 3rd Place ~ the "Beauty Of Solitude" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.
~ Honorable Mention ~ in the "Your Choice (7), Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
To those who measure the depths of their power,
In the fathomless pools of tears of the oppressed;
To the human hyenas that gorge themselves full,
While the sons and the daughters of the incarcerated,
Battle with the sharp arrows of hunger and dearth;
To those who appropriate to themselves,
Mother Earth’s allotments to the destitute;
To the dragon-mouthed whose fiery flames of hatred,
Sear the reputation of the guiltless;
To the puckish tongues that uproot family trees,
Wresting the blossoming babes from Pa’s loving arms;
To you all, Satan’s scamps; I say and say again:
The wrathful wind doth gather the celestial armies;
And the saintly swords of the beleaguered,
Will chirpily chaperon your souls past the netherworld.
You illuminate our hearts as you brightly smile
A splendid feeling for us lovers in the night
We’re completely snuggled under your light.
Sitting beside each other at the park with your light
We look at one another lovingly with sincerest smile
Then, our tender kisses filled the cold air of the night.
It turns out to be a very lovely and romantic night
Our most passionate love under your gleaming light
Our love is ablaze in the chaperon of your smile.
Your smile in the night is our best amorous light.
Feb. 25, 2013
Form of Poem: Tritina
©2014by Leonora Galinta
9th Place
Contest: Introducing Tritina ( a new poetry form for you)
Judged: 3/9/13
Poet Sponsor: Poet Andrea Dietrich
2nd Place
Contest: Moon and Sea
Judged: 3/13/13
Poet Sponsor: Poet Linda/PD
For me burning daylight invites me to the black
It's not that I don't like daylight, for I'll never lack
If I'm ever to prowl whether it's amidst the dark, light
It's being the cleverest, within either I'm out of sight
Have you ever walked behind someone oh so quiet
Can you simply imagine, their strolling quiet riot
To even stand beside, in an Otis lift, we're alone
We in burning daylight, whom does whom belong
Sitting in a restaurant, all alone with no chaperon
Whether it's burning daylight, who does who own
For me burning daylight invites me to the black
To venture into the black, then I'll soon relax
Farewell to God's Servant
Inspired by Father Mike Duggan, a Catholic Priest from Sacred Heart Church in Strathmore, Alberta.
Although we are as strangers I pray for your success,
In teaching every nation that God's Way is best....
I pray good health will chaperon wherever the Spirit will lead.
May you become noted as God's Choice and fruitful seed.
May necessity to chasten fade with the stirring of each new day...
May you know love and laughter and may your songs be light and gay.
May you seldom raise a finger to scoff or criticize
May you always view the sinner with compassionate Christ-like eyes.
May the name: Michael Duggan place a smile on every face,
And a caressing tarry within each heart that your absence will not erase.
The pain that I feel is caused by the ignorance I see on television and facebook, youtube and twitter, and most importantly the minds and mouths of the multitudes of people that lack the acquirable knowledge that would educate them before speaking.
Our world has misplaced the efficacy of human touch, the importance of human communalism; we have overlooked the significance of human life, and no longer contain the fortitude to express the basic collective dignities all people warrant.
The paths that we take toward progression diverge from the ethical constitutions that were meant to chaperon the actions of man; paths that lead to supremacy rather than a place of equality, where one person’s revolution justifies the undermining of another’s natural liberties, and a place where the flamboyant cries of a few disillusioned are satisfied over the cravings of the crowds that are too preoccupied to bellow.
The sexual nature of our children has surpassed the carnal ways of our parents, and society begs for the young victims to expand their complexities of sensuality. The female body is not a gift, but a means of entertainment; the man is not a sturdy foundation for the family, but instead a source of erotic pleasures. Today it is exceptional to find a person that is faithful, and tomorrow we are all sufferers of divorce.
My God the path we have taken leads to destruction, and we advance ever so closer to the end. The people of our world our depressed and lonely and I fear for the world my children will grow up in. I question whether giving them life was the best thing I could have done for my children.
Amidst the chaos of Earth, I see a photo of an officer assisting a sightless man cross the street, I hear reports of a blessed man returning his earnings to those who need it more, I see a video of a Christian alongside an Atheist as they rebuild the house of a Muslim fire victim, and I see hope.
Hope, that we can one day be rid of the current ways we have chosen to live by; hope that our grandchildren will be blind of color, gender, sensualities, and judge no one. This hope is the hope that will bring us to our knees, and upon those knees shall we find man’s peace.
Living Canvases
by Odin Roark
It hangs with the galleries
Where unlimited art museums
Await your approach
Your stopping
Your willingness
So often
It patiently bides its time
Knowing frequently
You’re concerned more
With who’s watching you
Watching the painting
Watching your illumination
Move its way
A painting’s nourishment
Comes in many forms
A child’s giggle
A lean into the details
The finding of the viewing bench
The sit
The sigh
The appreciation of magic
Your eyes provide the means
Your imagination the transport
Your subtle nod
The reward
A painting knows well
The containment of joy
Always aware
Always with gratitude
The chaperon of light
Senses how grateful
Your envisioning a brush stroke’s feel
A layered color’s purpose
An artist’s commitment to discovery
How delicate and fine such moments
When paintings and illumination
Make love
Gracious folds as satin, silky dunes waft
Undulating curves; frothy waves tossed
Seamless grooves filter subconscious dreams
Pallid contours emit hypnotizing streams
From her chiseled, sculpted mold congruent beams stretch
In well-rounded center, a sharp, cerebral image doth sketch
From smooth surface glides an effervescent glow
In the glistening radiance a sultry wind doth bellow
From high cheek bones swaggers a dignified tone
Beneath, ingratiating shadows mystique doth chaperon
Cheeks blushed with rosy hue bedewed garlands strew
Cupped in ivory fount from which bubbling streams flow
With wings spread wide
I soar while shooting the breeze.
I am the king of a widespread sky.
The dominant winged creation.
I circle down.
The humans they run and hide.
Not understanding I am a chaperon to so
Many living things. Gosh, heavens knows,
Maybe I’m even looking for food.
The wind lifts me high and into the clouds.
The sun beams off my iridescent feathers.
They are comfortably out-stretched, at perfect angles
and catching air pockets. Shooting me through
the emptiness with ease. Everyone should be so jealous
at just how peaceful and relaxing, this is.
To soar so close to god.
To drag-fly with an aeroplane.
And at the end of the day
To duck dive at fish. Get dinner for the kids.
I have flown for miles today.
I have swooped, circled, glided, turned and dived.
My wings are tired, so now I shall rest.
large feathery snowflakes gently fall...
a panoramic overlay conceals blurred landmarks...
young lovers walk holding hands
explore untrod virginal snowy paths
beneath a faint watchful moonlight chaperon...
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on October 14, 2017 for contest MINIMALIST sponsored by NETTE ONCLAUD - RANKED 4TH
I took my girl to the ice cream parlor,
to buy her and ice cream cone.
when we got there, her mother was there,
she had to be chaperon.
How can we be with each other?
when she always with her mother.
We cant even hold hands at the picture show,
her mother got to be there where ever we go.
Now that we are getting older,we thought it would get better.
Wrong it got worst.
Now when ever I want to kiss my girl,
I have to kiss her mother first.
Now that we are dating,
I asked my girl to take her to the prom.
Wouldnt you just know it,
she was chaperon by her mom
Soon we will be getting married,
and have a family of our own.
Her mother said if we have a daughter,
remember she will have be chaperon.
We love her mother dearly,
but one thing we dred.
When we are making love,
she will be watching from under our bed.
The shippers,
The third wheel,
The chaperon,
Intermediary,
The center of all the waggeries,
that "singles are bitter",
because they aren't inlove,
or haven't fallen in love",
Have you ever tried,
to sneak on their mind?,
If they really don't care about love,
Or are they praying for someone to come,
And bring them some love,
Some of them are in pain,
For feelings that are not repaid,
Some are just waiting,
believing ,"God has better plans"
But most of them are real lovers,
that holds strong in fate,
With faith,
They hold in their heart a great love,
A love nobody dares to feel,
In a heart that no one dares to know,
a love That would surely last,
more than this life time,
I'm not the kind of man that common consideration would consider
I consider what to follow and consider myself a leader
I have tickled few fancies and caught eyes just as few
Of vast worlds I have slightly known, but I could be that small world they never knew
I am developed and not just conditioned
I have changed and not just transitioned
Christ in my heart guides and transcends
Leading me away from swaying trends
Therefore I am a man among men
Though I could be a man like other men
Christ alone is my chaperon
In every road I take on
I would love to claim to be the best but I'm just me
The best and only me you'll ever see
I therefore am content and I don't contend
For I comprehend that my cause awaits me to attend
hobo artists
share frowns
of
fortune.
hands give chaperon
harems to accelerate
truant arousal.
postscripts bargain ordeal,
casualties
fatalities
blossom hymns,
paying tribute to jagged wreaths.
and
bolero cotillions
applaud javelin
apparitions.
The wheels of time roll by on the lavish landscape of life,
many springs swarm in our ambiance and wane away,
as we chaperon our entwined hearts on the garden path.
Ardent fervor lined with silver on the satin cloud that set sail,
not for long, for the ruinous rainstorm surges in
and dissolves the dormant shine of the remote sky.
My yearning glides beyond the sway of the eroded banks
of the subterranean stream flowing from your eyes,
but I know it’ll return from the sanguine sea of certainty.
I won’t wait long to be with you in the vale by my garden,
for in the recess of your meandering arms outspread for me,
I wander on the wings reverie to repose once again.
You sow the seeds of buoyancy in the abandoned garden,
that sprout in the spectral spring with amorous splendor.
The cradle of malachite leaves caresses the buds of rose,
that bloom on the canvas of dawn painted by sunburst sky.
In a trance I see you’re adorned by filigree of flushing patina,
the flower of yearning embellished with the glow of ardor.
I then find me drift in the domain of the deepest fantasy,
sparkle in the sapphire sky like a shooting star,
falling on the purple petals of your pristine rose,
I turn into a drop of dew radiating my heart’s fervent hue.