Best Cloister Poems
In autumn's brisk crimson
she weeps for summer.
September courts her
with scarlet and fire,
but xanthic plains
and sun's saffron blush
on cobalt lakes
stain her cheeks.
She'll sleep
in winter's bereft cloister,
the lambent trickle
of peach orchards
seeping into her dreams,
memories embossed
on a gold-stained pillow.
How I take pride when you come to my side
You can't stay away, and I sway as you play
Running your fingers over my peekaboo veil of lace
My emerald covering of grace…
I tremble as you sigh as you cry…your soul dry
Falling, crumbling, crawling...
to that place at my base
Your welcomed retreat….when his kisses were sweet
Taken in by my charm, the beauty of my name, my fame
lovers, you frolicked without shame....
Now he says you're to blame
“Weeping Willow”, you whisper….”Nothing’s the same”…..
There you lie; there you cry….and the day, it goes by
beside the placid lake where I stand as you quake
I want to sweep you up, shake all dormant senses awake….
Please...make no mistake....
I’m rooted in soil; I toil, not letting the goodness...spoil
The first of my peers to herald the spring, comfort I bring
Now my arms, I stretch down….touching the ground….
I cloister you deep; do not weep...
Let me lull you to sleep,
while my promise I keep:
It’s true…
Weeping Willow watches over You….
For Charlotte Puddifoot's Tree Contest
August 22, 2015
Skies falling, upon the ragged heart pasquil
Tranquility ripples across the lake in plethora
She is there, in my heart, a sweet delusion
As I cross the waters wishing I was omnipotent
I drop my oars on forest floor, seeking Aurore
I run along the earth clad pathways towards the cloister
Praying that accrued love still has her beholden
Kneeling on one knee, I look up with a glint of promise
The Lantern reflects back the softness of her eyes
Shall raw and bleeding wounds gape wide for thee
and overcoat each new parchments’ page?
Are thee foul succubus seeking a sage
undead and living vicariously?
Shall another’s soul flow unbound to thee
like a courtesan released from her cage
each tomes rich with crimson text overlaid.
So alone, thee can dine veraciously?
Shall life come a courting as thy subject?
Nay, lance the ripe boil of lassitude.
Purge thy barren cloister genuflect.
Author thine own life thee are not destitute.
Expand into the world, let life project.
Arise, pale spirit and the sun exude.
Air smelling lavender lily, in splash of wild flowers.
Bowers of rustic rosebuds, first love fragrance hours.
Cloudless skies exalt blue, fuzzed in luscious green.
Daffodils of yellow beams, bloom with night jasmine.
Ephemeral path of blue birds, sync butterflies scarlet,
Fancy rejoice of dalliance, in pink and purple banquet.
Gardens cloister colored valleys , petals in avalanche
Hyacinth perfumed sunshine, glossy blossoms branch.
In transit, cold greets summer, change of fresh attire,
Juvenile mind that's young, feels like flying higher.
Kisses stolen in gentle flirts, flowing streams of nectar,
Love sings joy and dance, in promise of new laughter.
Magical burst of smiling buds, re-sprout hidden hope,
Notes of mirth in dulcet , birds weave nest to cope.
Orange foliage sets fire, as decors of art unveil.
Primrose bedecked palanquins , sway in royal gale,
Queen of nature rides in beauty, crocuses in thicket.
Resurrected winter mist,..in green life, all succulent.
Sonnets, ballads, songs, gallery of dream for ages
Timeless glory of beauty in painter and poet pages
Up from a pastel sky, nymphs walk down filigree paths
Valentine day's just gone, the season of love to last
Wild cherry blossoms of silk, greet in a pink hello
Xylophone notes chant in a stream of music flow.
Young lovers gyrate... in a romantic love affair
Zephyr wind throws a hug,...Spring is in the air.
15th March 2019
Jade scythes
of areca fronds
slice slate air;
Medusa's snakes writhe.
Pewter arrows pierce
my garden.
I sit beneath an eave
pondering
the nascent storm.
Geraniums cloister
like vestal butterflies
in darkening loam
as a multitude
of emerald tufts
bend on the fleeing lawn.
5/12/18
NUN FUN IN THE SUN
There was in hot Tashkent in the orient
A religious uprising - a convent dissent.
Army was ordered in with gunnery,
The soldiers targeted the nunnery.
Here are the events in vista:
One lovely sista was forbidden a mista,
But a certain young soldier kissed her
Unaware of the portents
For the jewel of the convent’s contents.
In her cell he wanted his love to foister.
(She had made his cloister moister.)
His inclination was to osculate ;
The incident threatened to escalate.
Her kiss made him forget his gun,
Which overheated in the sun.
The magazine cooked until done,
Then bang, their love was gone.
I've lived in it all my life -
the self's grand fiction -
refuge for the child, youths
rebel fortress and a walled
cloister to house
the holy relics gathered
on the pilgrimages
of my mind. I have built it
line by line with words
baked into bricks.
Rooms follow years
down passageways of books,
dusty manuscripts and dreams
hung in stations along
age blackened walls.
In high towers, windows
open to a universe
with a terrifying silence
at its core.
I hear reality's hard fist
knocking at the door,
a presence breathing
its corrosive damp into mortar,
unpicking me
brick by brick. And yet,
a sense of peace in surrendering
what was never really there,
dissolving into what is
1.
Narcissus
There's a lot of room left in your head yet, my brother
There probably always will be.
Yours the realm of sliderule order
The self-denial of the man who believes in Facts.
Your feet planted firmly on the Earth
While your head inclines to the stars.
You could well serve as God's measurements taker.
Your home is the cloister,
The sound of sandal upon stone
Will usher you in and usher you out
As you pass through the halls and cells
Of your ruthlessly well managed life.
The quiet warmth of candlelight
Has always shone in your eyes.
How much I admire your strength and discipline,
Yet how much the more do I pity you,
O Master of the Mind!
2.
Goldmund
O what a lucky ladies' man you've been,
My darling, handsome little Goldmouth!
Kissed them all and not a one cried
When you left them.
There was too much of your mother in you for that.
The libertine's life was the road you followed,
Running ahead of wilting youth.
You saw the plague and its silent horrors
And killed two men yourself,
Got a taste of the gallows,
Yet lived to tell it all.
You lived much, suffered much,
Burnished your soul to its final brightness.
When you fell and broke your ribs
To breathe your last in icy waters,
Alone beneath that dark, unpitying Winter's sky,
Mother called you back.
A RACE TO DE-BONE FISH:
Filet
Relay
A CONVENT FOR SHELL FISH:
Oyster
Cloister
A MEMBER OF THE UNDER SEA MAFIA:
Mobster
Lobster
A PROMISCUOUS SHRIMP:
Trampy
Scampi
A MUSICAL RED SNAPPER:
Snapper
Rapper
A COMPASSIONATE FISH:
Caring
Herring
A LAW ENFORCEMENT FISH:
Grouper
Trouper
2/2/13
Entered in Brian Strand's All Yours Contest
Leaning pine trees yearn for the open coastline,
needles pointing far and away from vernal
bondage. Left with relics of restless newborn
butterfly's cloister.
for Craig Cornish's
"Sapphic Stanza Number Three" Contest
In a vast universe, I am one, all alone,
Mere speck that I am, in a quest you may know.
Filled once again so many questions to ask,
that are timeless and ancient, since origin of man.
I'm embraced by the night, and the cool damp grass,
as I wander around, beneath the vast stardust sky.
I ponder of things, that are hidden away.
and I pray that somehow, the answers will come.
While the heavens conceal, in a cloister, unknown,
my own little world, holds a million demands.
How foolish they seem in the scheme of all this.
What lies far beyond...in this universe, grand
How do I matter ....why do I exist ?
Where are the answers? What have I missed?
A lone shooting star,...then another comes close...
Yet, soon, disappearing,... to where, I don't know...
Burning a hole into the riddle of time,
leaving behind moon's light, with weight on my mind
Another star falls, with a tail streaming bright
Imprinting new meaning, far into the night
With insight, I wonder, how often ignored,
are the answers we long for, yet, left at our door?
I will look to the sky where my answers may be
Oh, the heavenly comfort hovers with me
Oh, the mystery that lies in the vast Milky Way
Perhaps there are answers, we may find them some day
White ice now is falling, all over the sky...
leaving trails that have purpose, ....and then so now,...do I
__________________________________________________________
Submitted for Verlena's Contest:2/5/15
My loved one
she is an oasis
a rare species
lemon of the cloister grape
in Savannah
she parades beauty
she made a proposal to God
before her creation
hips to happily embrace
eyes that cares me with joy
she is not ordinary
she isn't the stereotype
her complexion,
a manuscript to read hymns from
when she walks, all the world behind her
you are the beat of me
you are like holy water from paradise
flower of the firmament
wrought by divine craftsmen
Some days are not meant for sharing
Monday, Tuesday and then Myday
Tick tock I spend my time alone
Silence cures me
Therapeutic for my bones
Coffee shop corner
Sip the caffeine
Absorb the feeling
The feeling of knowing
I’m thinking, filtering, analysing
Shush! I'm just being
Alone but not lonely
Conversing with myself
Debating with my mind
Patiently quiet I detach
Noise around
Block it out
Turn off the lights
Dark and soothing
Meditation can be so sexy
So alluring
I run alone in the mountains
Trees and leaves
Keep me company
Along with the cool breeze
I feel they talk to me
Sometimes they tease
I like to be in my cloister
Wrapped up cosy in my paraffin wax
I reflect on the cracks
Cracks only I can heal
Only I can feel
Some days are just not meant for sharing
I want to indulge in exile
Please let me be for a while
I’ll surface when I want to
You should try it
If you want to
To the ground, plastics, papers and metals
To the mixture, scrap, damaged tires and dirty pieces of cloth
Amid natural ecosystems
From whose laxation natural escapes
The flammable methane gas
Triatomic is the altered range of oxygen by the action
Of electric shocks on the heights
Whose total damage, with inventing the steam engine
And the development of the industry, then started
The harbinger that future generations
Would live in fear of climatic cloister
Sometimes the abuse, it seems that conforms
When in the forests, indiscriminately to millions
Killing pathogens, exacerbate emphysema
Of the Blue planet, whose fury is magma itself
That spares nothing and all-consuming in vindictive eruptions