Best Cradles Poems
Oh, My Dear Walter, how your words have slayed
Humbled me, broken me, molded, remade
To taste of your world, see above or below it
Wit of a wordsmith, wry pith of a poet
To so construe love without using the phrase
Scrawl the sinew of war, yet delight in the days
To yawp of the grass - journeywork of the stars
Help heal a nation, attend to its scars
Find grace among horrors, sift beauty from death
The soul-pull of tides - briny kiss of their breath
To habit us all ... to the dazzle of light
Celebrate ourselves, bequeath us the night
Ask recurring questions of romance and life
Of presidents, boot soles, and moldering strife
Demons and mockingbirds, Paumanok's dunes
The pale, horrid witness of unstinted moons
'Twas sad-blown, a bugle, convulsed, was a drum
Yet exquisite, the dirge for a soldier and son
The sorrow of clouds in a ravening sky
The weep of a child should the Pleiades die
Knit airy-fresh words, with uncommon phrases
Draw Apollo and Neptune in all of their phases
Be there adoration as hapless as mine
Yet no soul more ardently leveled, supine
No writer has reached deeper into my heart
Idioms and phrases ... such allurement, impart
Ah, yes, what I'd give to have just one chat
With the rare human being who afforded all that
And maybe I'm biased, if perhaps to a fault
But the name of MY Captain, O Captain ...
Is WALT.
lake cradles the moon
the mournful cry of a loon
tender nights of June
for Carol's contest
* There is one person I would bring back in a heartbeat, and that's my favorite human being of all-time, Walt Whitman - he literally changed my life with his poetry, and brought true beauty and joy to my life. Never underestimate the power of words. *
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Oh, My Dear Walter, how your words have slayed,
Humbled me, broken me, molded and remade.
To taste of your world, see above or below it,
Wit of a wordsmith, wry pith of a poet ...
To so construe love without using the phrase,
Scrawl the sinew of war, yet delight in the days.
To yawp of the grass - journeywork of the stars,
Help revivify a nation, attend to its scars.
Find grace among horrors, sift beauty from death,
The soul-pull of tides - briny buss of their breath.
To habit us all ... to the dazzle of light,
Celebrate ourselves, bequeath us the night.
Ask recurring questions of romance and life,
Of presidents, bootsoles, and a moldering strife.
Demons and mockingbirds, Paumanok's dunes ...
The pale, horrid witness of unstinted moons.
'Twas sad-blown, a bugle, convulsed, was a drum,
Yet exquisite, the dirge for a soldier and son.
The sorrow of clouds in a ravening sky,
The weep of a child should the Pleiades die.
Knit airy-fresh words, with uncommon phrases,
Draw Apollo and Neptune in all of their phases.
Be there adoration as hapless as mine?
Yet no soul more ardently leveled, supine ...
No writer has reached deeper into my heart,
Idioms and phrases ... such allurement, impart.
Ah, yes, what I'd give to have just one chat,
With the rare human being who afforded all that.
And maybe I'm biased, if perhaps to a fault,
But the name of MY Captain, O Captain ...
Is WALT.
Praying for forgiveness
but the damage is done
still learning to walk alone
cause who "I AM" keeps
me shunned
The doors keep closing
in on me all through veiled
hypocrisy but what they all
have failed to see is that
I will never be anything other
than "ME".
It's true I've not always done
what is right, but for my mistakes
I've already paid the ultimate price.
So continue to judge me if you'd like
go hang me out to dry if that makes
you sleep a little better at night
for as Bad as you all may have
perceived me not once did any
of you try to wipe a single tear
from my eyes...
I want everyone to know
all the hurt buried in my chest
all the scars worn privately to
no one did I ever confess.
I'd much rather you think me crazy;
All F'ed up in the head then to
let anyone else know what I had
to take every night with me to bed
There are many ways of dying
but guilt, self reproof and regret
had already beaten me to death
Still unlike any of you God never
left me, judged me, or abandoned
me NOT ONCE.
Instead he stood by me til the end
laid my worries to rest , stone pillow to
cradle my head.
A walking cradle
A scaffold
Just support
Underpinnings are cushions of support.
We exacerbate to defeat negative thoughts.
We want success because this soothes our words.
Impaired from those that know how to hinder when moving forward, is a liaison to destroy.
A philosophical standard is not atypical.
This provides acumen and vision.
A walking cradle
Your framework
Empowered to join in a cause
A platform to stand on is that designed to level up.
Your thinking encounters more knowledge.
Edifice so large, that organization is a network.
Associate positive environment.
Correlate your roller deck.
Connect your mind to solidarity.
The structure is in order to induce the luring of optimistic tools.
To progress, becomes categorical.
Firm uncompromising unconditional
Absolute your milieu unlimitedly!
Cultivate your own means.
Flourish breed
A walking cradle
A new school
Promulgated!
A philodendron cradles its young,
a winter's bud in February thaw.
Spring calls, its ancient rhyme of no-time
sings of days gone by.
Buds, with petals palm to palm, echo a reassurance song
of blossoms locked in heart-leaf care
as unborn babes evoke blessings soon to come.
Those children died today
were little miracles
someone had taken them
just days before Christmas
God cradles those small gems
remember them always.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Dec.14/2012
The World cries, with those that lost their loved ones, in Newtown, Connecticut, just 11 days before Christmas. :'O( I can't believe someone could do something so horrible. Especially to tiny babies and just before Christmas.
It was a sad day, when I had to toss them;
my favorite pair of sports shoes.
Like an old, comfy friend,
we walked and played together;
until the linings were worn clean through, to the leather.
Still, I held onto them; my precious foot cradles.
When the day came to toss them,
cracked soles, leaking rain water onto my feet;
I worked hard to muster up the courage,
to place them in the trash
and my feet mourned their loss.
a genuine desire for love
a potential heart overflowing with love
and this world full of demons with tears.
Your Beautiful Smile!
Rocks me D`
-------~E~-------
~ E~
~ P~
Makes my heart go 'beat,beat'beat.
Take my hand we will not fail!
Through this cradles -r-o-c-k-
^We will Prevail^
++TOGETHER++
^^^^^^^^^^^
Peter K
Oh, majestic city, where time cradles its wings,
In a moment of the world, where the dream of star cascades is a timid seed,
I wander, a phantom of grace, beneath the moon's silver imprint,
Meandering through alleys where echoes of steps knock on the door of the ether, seeding songs forever set in stone.
I wear a tie that blooms with the fragrance of lavender, enmeshed by dawn,
My vest weaves the aurora, in the squall of night - a vivid canvas, unquenched.
In my ear, a ring, a guiding beacon in an ocean of mysteries,
Spinning tales from sands and dreams of untrodden shores, worlds of myth.
The secrets of dusk send shivers, a sweet murmur of past encounters,
My eyes, lanterns in the dark – stealing hearts amidst fleeting moments.
Complete mystery, my name in the night, an unending thought, an everlasting story,
The contour of a prince at dusk, the sovereign of shadows, the sentinel of evening, forever undefeated.
Ribbons meander in the dance with the breeze, a parade of butterflies under timid rays,
My steps reverberate royally, as a monarch in the moon's ballroom.
My gaze, twice a teacher, a window to enchantment,
Opens the gates to hidden galaxies, intertwining passion with finesse.
Baptized by moonlight, carried away into the ambrosia of stars,
I dream of the odyssey of love, of songs preserved from ancient times.
I, the dreamer, the catalog of the night, an alchemist of hidden crafts,
Roam in search of the absolute, the jewel of love in every meteor breaking silence.
In this solar municipality, the solemnity of the moment petrifies,
I, the suave silhouette of twilight, the beloved being, a diamond amongst shadows.
With every parting from a celestial body, when dawn adorns the day,
We are reborn with the hope of blooming anew, of painting the saga of a magic that never fades.
In the mysterious shadow of the evening, when the sky cradles its dreams in purple,
I walk the path between worlds, a pilgrim of silence.
Loneliness, an abyss of shadows that swallows falling stars,
Is the poverty of the soul, a chasm that absorbs echoes of extinguished desires.
In the broken mirror of the night, I see myself, a shattered rainbow,
Each shard, a window into a cosmos of lost thoughts.
In hidden corners, shadows dance waltzes of forgotten memories,
In other corners, ethereal smiles dissolve into the abyss of a lost dream.
But in the enigmatic heart of the forest of silences, I find a spring of light,
Solitude, the treasure of the self, a celestial nectar of tranquility.
Here, under the mantle of golden leaves and the whispers of the wind,
I rediscover my essence, a sacred fire burning beneath the ashes of past days.
On an old stone, witness to forgotten times, I sit,
Closing my eyes, I let myself be carried by the waves of cosmic thoughts.
In solitude, I hear the ancient song of my heart,
An old and immortal rhythm, penetrating deep into my being.
Silence envelops me like a celestial silk veil, light and warm,
And in this mystical peace, I feel whole, reborn, divine.
Solitude is not loneliness, but a temple of light,
Where the soul meets itself, in the eternal dance of existence.
In this mystical night, under the sky full of living stars,
I learn that loneliness is but a fleeting shadow,
But solitude, the treasure of the self, is a divine gift,
A portal to the infinity of being, where I finally find peace.