Best Cheerily Poems
Nestling in my realm, as you host a daydream,
Reveling in breeze of my splendor evergreen,
I welcome you to my domain of rhythmic trills
Where roam the blue jays, robins, and crossbills
Feeding on berries, frolicking with hatchlings,
Singing gaily, serenading benevolent sanctuary
Amid bears’ huff, growl, and foxes’ feral-howl
Sheltered amicably from dry heat and rainfall;
Where trees reduce pollution, boost air quality,
Emit oxygen you breathe, by photosynthesis,
Bear flowers, fruits, nurturing your well-being
Temper climate cheerily, swaying with winds,
Hold soil in place, reducing runoff to streams
Protecting elixir of life in rivers and tributaries;
While you find balance in sanctity and peace,
Enlightened by whispers rustling in harmony,
That warn of deforestation ruining ecosystem,
And callousness that torches wildlife and trees;
Yet, I rise from ashes sprouting earth’s tranquility
For I am the forest of goodwill and sublimity,
Adorning every season, standing for you firmly,
Hosting you as you rejoice in salutary daydream.
May 22, 2022
Poem of the day on May 24, 2022
Placed 1st: Wisdom From Trees Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
This old oak-tree smiling through my balcony
Sways and swings cheerily, a happy emissary,
Budding new vigor upon tiny greenish leaves
Adorning exuberance of idyllic new morning,
Quivering golden-beams on dawning of spring.
When the sun rises, blushing mauve feelings,
Its gentle oscillations fetch tender sensibilities
Inviting sparrows to grace the stage of robins
In spontaneous outburst of ceremonial music--
Chirping, twittering, singing for the hatchlings.
As summer of my mind churns wistful stories,
Its white blossoms waltz tender warm breeze
And leaves flutter merrily, twirling to comfort me
When thoughts bygone nudge parched vagaries
Engrossed in realm of burned-out memories.
When autumn turns green into fiery-red leaves
As ruby sundown glitters on amethyst evening
And gusty winds rustle-in endlessly, ferociously,
Whirling flying colors, floating crimson revelries;
A few remnants cling-on, loath to forsake me.
Yet, brazenly I gaze away, ignoring its appeal
When harsh winter shudders essence of its being,
Quivering, shivering bare-skinned branches;
Staying beguiled instead on top of frozen hills
Where sunset articulates ochre-tinged themes.
May 26, 2020
Poem of the day on May 28, 2020
Placed 2nd: Brian's Choice Y Contest
Cheerily blew ocean breeze in beach-park
Till fiery tides climbed bouncing giant rock
Spurred on by the churning clouds hosting dark
As hazy winds ravaged paths on your walk
Rattling lashing gust where fishing boats dock.
Stranger were we, till blinding storm hit blast
Pouring pelting rain on our budding talk,
Waddling needlessly in each other's past--
Alas, like summer rain, our amour faded fast!
Yet I stayed, wooed by nascent azure sky
Charmed anew by rising violet hue
Dispersing vestiges of storm gone by
Enchanting crowds in periwinkle view
As you returned bearing secret you knew
Ready for the prize with smile in your eyes
Admiring beauty in portrait I drew
Starring just you beneath amorous skies
Depicted by my hands sporting romantic highs.
June 28, 2018
I have a dear feathered friend who greets me each day at dawn!
He likes to dwell in and around the crab apple tree on my lawn!
From his perch he serenades me on wintry Colorado morns so drear,
Cheerily belting out trilling melodies that are so pleasing to my ear!
Oft I've wondered why Robbie Red Breast opts to winter here at all,
'Specially since all his friends flee these icy climes for Florida each fall!
While they bask in the warming sun enjoying cocktails of orange juice,
He prefers wintering here with me along with all its nippy abuse!
'Tis a wonder that the little creature can manage to survive,
Since there are no wiggly worms for him upon which to thrive!
Robbie doesn't worry - The Omnipotent Creator sees to his daily needs,
By providing an occasional hapless bug and a few wind-blown seeds!
I think that rascal relishes wakening me from my slumber each morn,
As he flexes his wings and sounds reveille to begin his daily bourne!
I'd rather be woken by him, tho', than the neighbor's yapping mutts!
'Tis certainly far more pleasant - of that there ain't no ifs, ands or buts!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
A Palace of Aloneness.
This palace of aloneness is not my home.
It's bricks know only the time of run-off bygones.
Transition past it's thousand entrances
Impaired with creeping ivy
Into it's stately communion hall
For the dead and the living you'll end up.
Look out it's eyes towards blurred views
Draped in so longs never to be clearly revealed.
Gawk at it's floor to ceiling shelves infinitely crowded
With ô so decidedly swollen hearts
Captive inside tightly sealed jars.
To dust them is not my task.
Here, cabinets are filled with illogical medicines
For conditions without extensional cures.
A repository for good and bad intentions.
You'll know as soon as you feel it
That you are there.
I'll take no residence in this palace
On the dark side of it's interference.
Secure no long or short term stay in it.
This settlement has no neighbors
To cheerily comfort with a smile.
No happiness locker, no blowing kisses.
No escape if you accept lodging here.
Move on, let weighty doors close before you
That have no real escape.
About-face before it's dark shadow becomes you.
Recapture only evidence that matters.
There is no recouping backwards.
Offer up your redress to tomorrow today.
Flee past this palace of forlornness.
Avoid it's thorns upon your ankles.
Clutch your heart from head to toe.
Keep your future safe to ascent again.
Stay out and away look up to heavens above
Even now they are clouded with silver linings.
“Breathe on us breath of spring,
new hopes, new joys, new beginnings.”
Quote - poets own.
Spring Flowers
All winter long we have waited for you
When being nurtured and starting to grow
Ethereal beauties striking and new
That appear from the nursery below.
Visual art of the creators craft
All seasonal things bright and fabulous
Raised from the dark and straight into our hearts
Primroses, daffodils, tulips, crocus.
Birds sing cheerily at the dawn of morn
Busy bees hover flower to flower
On a gentle breeze floral dance is borne
Upon the Earth's magnificent bower.
Flowers need sunshine and rain to exist
With God's light and glory all in the mix.
26th February 2021
* * * *
Breath of Spring Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
In the store, I pick up a globe with a beautiful scene.
On a park bench, a couple is cuddling.
Red ribbons and bows adorn the street lamp next to them.
Christmas lights hung cheerily are encircling a pine.
What might this couple be discussing?
What joy might they feel?
I long for the bliss they seem to share inside that globe.
I shake it, and snow sprinkles down so prettily.
Closing my eyes, I hold the globe and shake it again,
seeing the scene again in my mind’s eye.
Then I open my eyes; I’m inside the globe!
Music of Christmas from somewhere is playing:
“But as long as you love me so, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”
There’s a stranger at my side; he is dark and handsome.
His fingers are twining in and out with mine.
No words are needed; this is the language of love I adore.
I am youthful again, feeling fresh as the crisp winter air,
stirring with dreams and reveling in romance.
This feeling – how long can it last?
I’m stuck inside the Christmas globe.
Should I want to get out?
Suddenly snow is drifting down on me and the wonderful man.
Some entity outside our sphere has found the Christmas globe.
It feels like my whole world is shaking,
but it matches the quivering deep in my soul,
and I know that
I do not want out.
Dec. 1, 2019 for Bobby May's Stuck in a Christmas Globe Poetry Contest
One day, Brad felt overwhelmingly sad
The next day Brad was raging mad
Following this day, Brad was feeling glad
This was the best day that Brad had had
One day, Suzy had been crying all day long
The next day Suzy was cheerily singing a song
Following this day, Suzy wasn't feeling so strong
Suzy was feeling like she didn't belong
One day, Peter woke up feeling quite flat
The next day Peter happily met Brad for a chat
Following this day, Peter was worried about his cat
His cat that day had been bitten by a rat
One day, Paige's mind was all over the place
The next day, Paige had a smile upon her face
Following this day, Paige wasn't feeling quite as ace
All Paige wanted was to have her own space
Whether you're Paige, Peter, Suzy or Brad
and whether you're sad, happy worried or mad
The emotional whiplash you get isn't really all that bad
because it means you're still living, even if it's just a tad
My name is Paige and I write poetry when feeling emotion
It's like taking medicine when sick, or applying a cream or lotion
Sometimes I write in order to avoid conflict or commotion
Writing poetry helps me avoid a mental health implosion
I hope these words on some level do resonate with you
I write from the heart and these feelings I describe are true
I hope you find courage to write when you're feeling blue
because you'll feel better afterwards, as it really helps me too
Sending love from Paige to all of you in Poetry Soup
I Value the support from this amazing community group
Our 'Espirit-de-corps' has me letting out a whoop
It's a lifeline to cling to, a lifebuoy, a hoop
'Espirit-de-corps' - Definition: the common spirit existing in the members of a group and inspiring enthusiasm, devotion, and strong regard for the honour of the group.
A darling miniature dragon is living on my big toe.
He has built a community, and it has a glow.
He’s readying a car port and a landing pad now.
I’m fascinated in spite of my giant ouch-y ow!
I can almost see the skyscraper he’s erected.
He nailed it in hard, as I had kind of expected.
Even with my magnifiers I can barely see
That little purple dragon as he waves cheerily to me.
Do you have a name? I yell as I am much higher.
OUCH! He talks in a foreign tongue with a bunch of fire.
I cannot bathe now, for it would not be polite I guess.
Cute little dragon has a wife who has come to share his nest.
A robin awakened me cheerily
as I sat up in bed
Tweeting his sweet tune
that now plays in my head
And when I retired
at the end of the day
To the tune of the robin
soft to sleep did I lay
This is a very special moment in time
As in the companionable solitude I contemplate whimsical things,
Surrounded by the forest's brilliant shades of lime
And the delicate violas nodding to me from the fairy rings,
Clad in soft shades of every color of the rainbow,
So pretty they could nearly be the fairies themselves,
Dancing in time to the breezes that blow
And sporting with the fun-loving elves.
In the near distance flows a waterfall,
Laughing at the silliness of how my thoughts wander.
Shining with its droplets, songbirds cheerily call
As they weave through the cool mists surrounding the cascade of thunder.
The distant music of the forest beckons to me,
Inviting me into its intricate symphony,
Intriguing me with its intimate mystery,
Entreating me with its limitless fantasy.
Written June 1, 2014
Hmm...What Discursive Poetic Theme Shall I Write About...
Today (a rather brisk, chilly,
and otherwise sat
tiss factory twirly delightful
December 18th, 2018) matte
her of fact quite
refreshing noontime, while this fat
tend plot of Earthen surveyed terrain
situated over scat
herd modest suburban tract,
(actually yours truly some watt
urbanely sprawled out) at
Latitude: 40.2538 Longitude: 75.4590,
where I sit pat
and think to write
about some reading material flat
touring my "FAKE" status
as king of agitprop for chat
hurrying class gussied up with
artistically crafted rat
tilly done up snazzy razz mutt tazz
(approved by Willard), this expat
lapsed Peterson harried tailored script,
asper previous peculiar
swiftly styled idée fixe
literary unnecessary, rat
tickly tawdry superfluity)
interspersed with dollops of splat
hard logophile, nonetheless gentle
on the eyes, yet feeling totally flat
and devoid of meaning, and quite
convincingly desperate idea this pratt
tilling far amore in the dell doth
expatiate, expound expressively, gnat
cheerily witty, (i.e. hint- please
pretend these humph fat
tickle lee meandering, rambling,
and warbling words) taxing
on mental faculty as bat
tan gruelling death march
physically, when circa
April 1942 Japanese forced
76,000 captured Filipinos,
and Americans Allied
soldiers to march about 80 miles across
Bataan Peninsula (province
in Philippines), where they died
enroute to...during World War II
on island of Luzon, espied
as a spiritual sanctuary hosted
by a knowledgeable tour guide
named Matthew Scott hood dons
genuine (musty smelling)
Tory wig to hide
as an alien alias (from the outer limits
of the twilight zone) incognito
even to himself, and especially the bride
of Frankenstein, who evinces a strong crush
toward said nondescript gentrified
vested gentry groundless thinker with pride
though, dirt poor (at least on the surface),
but deep down rich with
Schwenksville well watered
history harkening back to 1684,
when hoodwinked, jilted and lied
Lenni-Lenape Indians got fleeced
then taken for a ride
this land ceded to (stolen from) William Penn
nestled along the Perkiomen Creek.
Spring in all its splendor has arrived - what a pleasant relief!
The grass has greened and the trees have begun to leaf!
Robins have returned and cheerily serenade me at the break of dawn.
Alas, those pesky dandelions scourge my pristine, emerald lawn!
The golden sun greets daffodils awakening from hibernation,
And colorful tulips blossom, beautifying God's grand Creation!
Pastel blooms of many hues adorn my cherry and apple trees.
Lord, please spare them from the usual late springtime freeze!
The roses were pruned and ample fertilizer was spread.
The snowblower was gladly stored securely in the shed.
The mower was serviced and its blade was finely honed.
Tomorrow the lawn must be mowed - it cannot be postponed!
But hold on! This morn I'm greeted with a grim surprise!
Drifting snow is piled as high as my shivering thighs!
Yesterday 'twas seventy degrees, now I shovel snow in coat and hat!
Fiddlefaddle! So much for Springtime in the Rockies and all of that!
During Springtime in the Rockies 'tis common modus operandi,
To keep the John Deere snowblower and lawnmower handy.
"Just wait ten minutes, the weather'll change" is an apt old saw,
As my lawnmower idles and I impatiently wait for the snow to thaw!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in Carol Brown's "Spring" Contest - January 2012
Dar es salaam where I live means heaven of peace
But to me she has proved as well to be a haven of peace.
A peaceful place for any peace-loving person or race.
Atleast selfishly from here seem faraway all warring feuds all bloody massacres.
For here we simply catch sea and fresh water fishes
instead of getting caught up in goddamned skirmishes.
Oh and I live in a land of seven wonders and I stay in a mansion of seven windows
Each of them overlooking a different view
Guys, seven wonders to be exact
but be ready here for both fiction and fact
For I present to you these seven wonders of this land
as if I could view 'em' all from where I stand.
Ah and though I've settled down trying to be content with Tanzania.
A major part of me will always belong to my beloved India.
Well, well my first window has a view of Mount Kilimanjaro
the highest mountain in all of Africa
Rightfully named, the Roof of Africa.
The 2nd window overlooks
Lake Tanganyika
and fishermen with nets and hooks
in the 2nd deepest and longest lake in the whole wide world.
And from my third window can be seen
the famed, fabled and very pretty
Natural park known as Serengeti
Nature's celebrated celebrity.!
The 4rth window affords a view of the wide Ngorongoro Crater
Just as rich in wildlife
Throw some fish to the 'gator
even if it's such a ruthless predator.
The 5th one it overlooks
The great game reserve Mikumi by name
no less in fame
for a choicest variety of game.
As for the 6th window, from there you can see
Lake Victoria too
and I play peek-a-boo
with a marvelous maribou
and cheerily say 'karibu'
from the largest lake in all Africa.
The seventh, the last window gives me a view
of the dry lush gold-green sea of Savannah
Teeming with favorite flora and fauna
Here a rhino, there a hyena
and hee hee 'hear' that mynah
So now it's up to you to plan a trip, a Safari
to this land of precious Tanzanite, the land of the Maasai
.Aha, mind you only the mansion overlooking all that is fictional
and every other detail is soo real and factual.
The telephone rang, I answered cheerily
When the niceties were over, the voice inquired
"How is it going with the gardening today" quite sincerely
I could not refrain and out of exuberance, desired
to extol the virtues and due attribute to the joy that Spring is bringing.
The Birds are chirping away
gleefully abound at their playing
rejoicing the rebirth of Spring today
and now have more hours to bask in the sun
That's the glory and joy that Spring is bringing.
The Winter's gloom of body and mind is now done
the Trees and Shrubs, in the breeze can't restrain their greeting,
The Peaches are busy Peaches-sing
the Figs are Figging away
and the Apricots are buckling in their blooming.
The Guava's graciously budding and Guava-ing the whole year
as with the Parsley's and Celery's luscious greenery,
The Paw-paw's are Paw-pawing, the Avocado-pear
so generous in their giving, through-out the whole year,
It's amazing, all the joy that Spring has sprung.
The Quince's are heavily wincing
the Mango's are flowering and ready to Mango-ing
the Banana's are Banana-ing
and the Plum's, purplish in their Plum-ming
so too are the Tamarillos heavy in Tree-tomato-ing
While the white and mauve blossoms
of the Yesterday Today and Tomorrow's, soften's
the most perturbed mind with their heady aromatic scent
and the Jasmines exudes a fragrance extraordinary,
As with the Clivia's in saffron pride, glistening in sun-lit dew.
What an awesome, wondrous sight
to see Mother-nature's beauteous, creative delight
blending so, with the Omnipotent Creator's panoramic scene
Set so, that we the Immortal Mortal care-takers bear in mind
that His Garden and the giving Spring, is of the sharing Kind.