Best Close Knit Poems
Sitting beneath the stellar awning
Humbly, shall I comemmorate
Before the sun, creeps in crawling
Every star shall I dedicate
To you, My Love; Look at the skies
For you, My Love, I most despise.
To you, I say, in subtle north
Go tell him how my heart did bleed
When he did scowl, as I put forth
The ways I cared and loved indeed
You'd kiss my wounds - control, condole
Then skew them deeper, slaying my soul.
In far east, you, so bright yet blank
Have you not seen how hard i wept?
When flowed his eyes, his tears I drank
Did you not count my nights unslept?
And blind, was I, to your disguise
Gaze up, My Love, go find your lies!
Weep not, My friend, most close-knit
For you did taste deception bitter
Dazzled like queen, down south you sit
Mere a pawn now of waning glitter
Concur I, My Love, all pretence is sweet!
Until falls the cloak, and truth does greet.
Toppled, as I, did west monarch shiver
Warned of haste; but he'd cried my name
Limits, leaped I, not a blink's quiver
For cared I not, if world did blame
In pain, My Love, at me, you mocked
Alone, My Love, left me, you debauched!
Sorrow, the sacrifice, you did witness
O! Glazing Moon! Make haste and tell
How profound is hatred, beneath this breast
Where, drenched in love, a heart did dwell
Upon you, My heart, I swear, I proclaim
Sha'n't ever bleed in eye, sha'n't ever take his name.
Lo! Behold! Last thing, I wish to confess
If I say unto you, shall I be relieved
For you know me, my heart at best
If I say unto you, shall I be believed
No matter how high may hatred soar
I own, my love shall weigh ever more!
I’ve always been restless since I was a kid,
to settle near drives me insane.
I’ll just throw together the best that I can
what I own and be gone again.
Boxes long packed I had stacked in a shed,
are obsolete, so I feel that I have
to lighten my load for my road ahead,
then discover an old photograph.
Stopped in my tracks, I sit on the bench;
I look deeply into the face.
My eyes go all misty as I travel back,
to a little old weatherboard place.
Where I remember the warmth in the kitchen,
on those cold and wet winter nights.
Hot steaming soup; the open wood fire,
and the flickering kerosene lights.
How the family was close knit together.
We hadn’t even heard of T.V.
Chatting while eating our Sunday roast;
neighbour visits for hot scones and tea.
Bare footed we ran through the paddocks,
seeking out mud or a puddle.
If we came down with an ailment,
the remedy - a kiss and a cuddle.
Patched up were my breeches and socks.
Most ‘jumpers’ were ‘hand me down’.
I was so proud of my ‘new’ clothes;
showing everyone who came around.
Rabbit was our staple diet.
Trapped in the bush at the back of our home.
‘Chooks’ we kept for the eggs;
only eaten if we killed one of our own.
Blinking, I came back to earth;
took a breath and so pleased to find,
what I believed was forgotten,
is deeply entrenched in my mind.
Dormant I wait for the moment.
Something releases memories I have.
A tear falls and darkens a spot,
on Mother’s faded photograph.
Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written. John 21:25 NIV
Tell Me, Who Do You Say That I Am
The wind whispers of him.
Rocks long to call out his name.
Angels ponder this salvation.
Demons shake in utter fear.
The throngs were looking for physical food.
God of all creation, in front of them,
fed them fish and bread.
Heaven’s bread out of reach
They ran when he tried to teach.
To his close knit group, he’d ask,
and even they were perplexed,
their inner core knotted.
This man supreme
would curtail storms,
walk on the sea,
feed crowds with a handful
of seeds.
Tell me
who do you say that
I am?
This simple, humble, feet-washer
would spend his short life healing others.
This eye-piercing man would bore
into a woman’s soul,
tear her away from her shame,
be the cause of a rumbling fame.
The King of kings
sought her out.
This lover of freedom,
untwists the cords of slavery
that binds our souls.
Divinity longs to hold —
not stare us down,
nor strike us down,
nor trample us.
Love incarnate
knelt down to peer in our eyes,
surprise us with truth
instead of worldly lies.
Tell me
who do you say that
I am?
O Lord, let my every breath
be an answer to your question,
my every step, my every action.
Amen!
4/27/2021
Tell Me, Who Do You Say That I Am
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
La couleur de toi repose sur mes lèvres
roll with me, dear desire
wrapped in close knit harmony
tongues danced, amidst the dialect
quenching mellow thoughts of me
crimson tips towards cinnamon
hunger breached a breathless breeze
autumn holding to her fragile leaves
grasped with innocence, one last tease
the color of you lies upon my lips
composed in the shelters of time
whispers, promise an extra kiss
folding this empty heart of mine
BELLS
I.
Bells has a tingling ring to it,
a jingledy-jangle silver tone.
The tympanic waltz, close knit —
angelic chorus of Christ’s throne.
And Winter parades its magic —
the pure white snow purling gold.
Morgans’ shiver and shake chromatic.
Enchantment’s carol — behold!
O Christmas day — the pearly gates
stretched wide open in senssuround,
handbells harmonious, worldwide translate
singing, sweeping, melody crowned.
~
II.
*Poesome bells! They’re morose.
Tentacles dingle-dangle forth.
Curious onlooker of its strokes,
midnight binds its ears, looks North.
The lonesome brass calls for lad
and lass with clean cuts and braids.
The aww-no sound is clad
in a nonsenseless grade.
*Edgar Allen dawdles with death clang,
its clanger brain, hellish.
The beauty, from tower hangs —
the dauber of knells doth relish.
12/20/2020
*Some thoughts from Poe’s poem “The Bells”
Christmas has always been for family;
it has always been more about them
than the season’s trappings and gifts.
A time for wide-eyed children,
for delight and giddy happiness,
for smiles that come easily to each and all.
A time when we can appreciate
our close-knit bonds; all of us wanting
to be right where we are, right then.
A time when jubilant hosts and exuberant guests
go off to midnight mass in the dark winter’s snow
while a grand feast awaits, before the tired children sleep.
Christmas morning, with laughter and late breakfast
turns into laptop lunch amidst gift-wrapped presents.
And then, 'the visiting' when we travel to other festive gatherings.
Christmas has always been first anticipation and then joy;
the joy of being together, reliving memories of our past
while making memories for our future.
Written in collaboration with T. Kirk Tierney
AP: 2nd place 2022, Honorable Mention 2022
It took some heavy digging and a lot of clever research.
But scientists have now explained in full detail how evolution works.
Finally it all comes together after much debate and so much time.
(To appeal to the little 'uns they even told it in rhyme).
"And from the mud-baths of primordial soup we came to be.
Rising from the currents of a ginormous boiling sea.
Once things cooled down a bit, leaving cells with room to breath,
things developed quite gradually,
as each individual body part became part of the team."
The Mouth said to the Ear:
You there! Get your Butt over here!
What the Mouth didn't yet know, however,
was that that the Butt was still processing
in some foul smelling black ether.
(Just ask Nose and he'll tell you clear as day,
that smell was nothing short of risque.)
Mouth's voice was very muffled you see,
lacking the Ear's wondrous ability
to take in sound.
You could see it for yourself if you wanted too
(still Eyeball was no where to be found).
Somewhere along the road the Head came rolling down.
He had great determination in his jaunt,
though those big gaping eye-holes were sure to haunt.
And after a two million year nap,
at long last, the Elbow and Knee Cap
came oozing their way from the horrid soup.
Once attached to Mouth and Vocal Chord, they beamed,
"Pee-YOU that reeks, if Stomach were here I'd surely turn green.
One sure develops an appetite after a billion year fast.
If someone doesn't throw me some grub I don't think I'll last!"
After such great struggle there was still so much to be done
Feet and Legs were still in a hot sweaty run
trying for a thousand years at least to find Crotch and Torso
(To make matters worse they needed Esophagus to get re-hydrated also!).
But after all that I think you will find the struggle worth it.
What great things can happen when we're all so close knit.
We're not perfect yet, as you can see, evolution is a work in progress.
Things could always improve, it just takes time to process.
One fellow man of science inquired a rough estimation
of just how long it would take to grow wings
(some bickering was involved, due to his ridiculous proposition).
The real concern is however being totally ignored,
of which I think you will be completely appalled.
It will probably take another 17 billion years,
at least, to get the Brain installed.
They once lived here on Hudson River banks-
Lenape Indians of long ago.
Beneath our home may lie the underworld
of spirits that we know to come and go.
Our kids and friends held campfires down the hill,
and from the woods heard chants clear as can be.
An arrowhead was found and brought inside,
and from that day the spirits seemed most free.
For years we've seen the shadows down our hall
and darting figures rushing by each door;
a fan that starts to whirl with no switch turned;
lamp lights that dim at will on every floor.
Much time has passed since we had built our home-
the coffee maker still turns on at will.
The touch lamps glow and fade all by themselves;
computer icons move, do not stay still.
So many mornings, our computer screens
are fixed on 'guest' and not our email names,
just like some ghosts signed on and off all night-
these spirits are intent on playing games.
No harm has come to us, just puzzling times,
in never knowing why this came to be.
Perhaps a tribe once lived here long ago;
their roaming spirits, still alive and free.
September 12, 2016
~7th Place~
Contest Name: Give Me Goosebumps
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Judged: 12/21/2018
True story- based on the myths about these Indian spirits still roaming.
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"Newburgh, NY, is located on the west shore of the Hudson River on the lands of the Waoranek peoples described by the Europeans who first encountered them as a close-knit, loving, and peaceable group. The Waoranek was part of the Lenape tribe of the Algonquin nation. Around them, in the bay, were other related bands also part of the greater Lenape-Algonquin peoples."
Quote By Poet "The faces of pretty flowers will brighten anyone's day."
Here in a lovely garden we sit,
growing very close-knit.
Our faces of pretty color,
are bigger than a sand dollar.
We love to get a kiss from the rain,
makes our growing not feel in vein.
The bees came by to say hello,
they give us a big glow.
It is said we are an annual plant,
we are loved by the owner's aunt.
Shout out loud and proclaim,
Zinnia is our name.
I’m from small town homes and rose bushes overgrown, with
Close-but-not-too-close-close-knit-crazies.
Where my best friend lives down the block and I make late night trips to her house past the town curfew, because I am from just inside the city limits.
Where I can’t drive underage in a non-road-legal vehicle on the road but I do it anyways.
From hydrangeas to big dead oaks with darkened limbs and forgotten branches. Unattended to hidden ponds with sand dunes keeping close company. Winding trails through the woven pines and golf cart rides through the night.
From two tracking at 2am, to popped tires riding on rims all the way home.
Bruised up and down and scratches I don’t know how I got.
I’m from sunday night football with crockpot cheesy potatoes
to rolling blackouts and chasing charter vans down flat onto our bottoms.
Muddy heels to get to the dance and paying seven dollars to watch my hometown football team lose.
I’m from where smoking our meat and video games in the garage is a party but we are the only company we need.
From corny jokes inside and out and witty humor, none taken. From where insulting one another is nothing but love and curfews are often a thing of the past.
Descending from lovejoys I am often filled with both love and joy,
I’m from oddballs and country folk yet we have evolved.
I’m from soccer games even when it’s raining. From no quitting all the way to you tried your best.
From high- highs and even lower lows.
I’m from the land of schnitzel, pickled beer, and pizza. From ‘go play outside’ and ‘walk it off.’ Nuts and bolts for christmas snacks to ‘honor thy mother and father.’ Sunday school lullabies and don’t use his name in vain, following all the common Godly precautions.
I’m from waking up early just to see the sunrise even though the trees are a war barricade from the burning fire you long to see. I’m from the fog that made my acres of yard an abyss that I can’t see through, even though I know what’s there.
I’m from family trips and a loving home, missing it when I’m gone and hating it when I’m there. I’m from supportive love and ‘can’t isn’t a word’. I’m from you can do anything if you work hard enough, and whether you think you can, or think you can’t, you’re right.
Home Is Where The Heart Is
Oh my goodness
"Lets Party, Family Reunion"
Family of 10
Its all good, we stay close knit
Look forward to cookouts
Mardi Gras here is a big hit
Our seafood is the best, fresh from the bayou
My moms the best cook
Shrimp boulettes, jambalaya, just to name a few
Born on the bayou, its in my blood
Could never leave here
Louisiana is where I spent my girlhood
Written by: Debra Falgout
Contest by "SKAT"
Blessings
By Ayesha Karim
God has blessed me with so much.
A mother who is there for me,
A grandmother and a close knit family who love me,
Friends who I’ve shared my sorrows, successes and trials with;
Friends I can call on the phone go to the mall or catch a movie with. A cute guy named Mike who I am dating the first guy that treats me really good that I’ve been on official dates with.
Mike always pays on our dates.
I have been blessed to have my education especially beyond high school because of my Madness(mental illness) since I was fourteen.
I have an Associate’s degree and next May I will graduate from college with my Bachelor’s degree.
I count my blessings as the expression goes “(Count your blessings)”.
I the Poetess Ayesha Karim will become a known Poet and a children’s book author.
It was a close-knit town hostile to strangers
that lost its citizens for imagined dangers.
Move-ins were rejected
and to threats subjected.
Shortly the population was two park rangers.
It has been twelve years
Every one of those years
I have been turned away
by officials of the city
Twelve long years
of being on the housing waiting list
Being the only breadwinner
Times got tougher
To my children I imagine
that to them
I am a failure in many ways
No where for me to seek refuge
The only way is inside my head could convince me otherwise
What do you say to a
man living with cerebral palsy?
Who has to proof himself on all fronts
Spiritually it becomes draining
in a one room flat
He becomes out of touch
with those immediate loved ones
Wife then kids or vice versa
All freedoms are compromised
Specially the kids
As a physical impaired man
I am not much affected
Considering my boarding school days
It becomes tough
when it is an all female club
And I am the only male
and physically impaired
Mentally the impact takes its toll
There is a heaviness within me
I cannot seem to find an outlet
That's why I'm living on a page
Out of control
I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liars chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
If you see me smiling
It is a front
this is how I deal with my pain
Many second job attempts fail
I am beginning to doubt myself
I sometimes stare at myself in the mirror
My wife's take on it
is that I am full of myself
That may be the case
It runs much deeper than that
Maybe I am taking her
too much along with me
But I can't help it we are close knit family
The Lord has blessed me
With three daughters
They could write
a book about me
one day if they are aspiring authors
along with my wife as their editor
Poetry is my only sanctuary
My world in black and white
I silently wish for all those material things
Things that is out my grasp of understanding
Why some of us
gets it easy and others hard
Is there a lesson
to us that are disenfranchised
or are we nearing our expiry date?
Hey, it is just a thought
along with my perception of things
Who gets to build us up?
When you hit rock bottom
What is the bottom line?
What if we get to that helpline too late?
What will they say in your obituary
Were you worthwhile living with
Or were you known to be a prick
Only time will tell
Poetry is my only sanctuary
My world in black and white
Diffused soft twilight blush glimmers on the mountains,
birds returning to their nests at quiet dusk,
I, lonely in my backyard garden,
watch the vermillion sky at golden sunset,
the last rays of sun below horizon gradually being wiped out,
listening to birds crooning and chirping to their mates,
making sure their offsprings are fed, taken care of!
Aha! The warm nest - a sanctuary from darkness!
No longer I need to wait anxiously
for my little ones to come home…
they flew away to the wider horizon
when they were ready to take off!
Still a lot of times their absence amiss to me,
as if I hear their delightful voices,
chattering, giggling, laughing!
I see the empty chairs at dinner table…
prepare their special dishes, their favourites,
only at celebrations. Wait for their arrival impatiently!
gifts are wrapped, cakes are baked,
the aroma of freshly-baked cookies surround the joyful place!
And then, after a day or two, there is silence again!
Never thought of a day when the nest would be empty,
a carefully built home with love and adoration,
for a close-knit family - sharing and caring..
birds gather twigs, sticks and leaves,
to create a safe space for their babies,
until they are grown. we worked hard to create
a secure refuge for our children,
where they had endless opportunities to explore!
We …with patience and endurance,
offered a safe haven to our babies,
knowing all this time -
some day they will have wings strong enough to glide…
hoping the bond stays permanent,
we must let them soar in kaleidoscopic sky!
May 7, 2023
Empty Nest Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Cooper Etheridge
FIRST PLACE