Best Crooned Poems
When splendor of love spun dreams ecstatic
Musings of fantasy waltzed joyous themes
On blossoms of meadows in prime of spring
And giggles of streams donning green prairies
I felt your presence my eager beats crooned
When halo of the moon ravished our mood
As melodic rhythms inflamed doting hearts
And voice of hot passion blazed our romance
You were sweet life that I cheerfully claimed
And I was to you what your triumph meant
But feelings euphoric soon lost their edge
When in winds of change vows of youth drifted
I saw you go there where lonesome souls cry
Where emotions despised strife of pale sighs
When day’s silence often filled awkward void
And haze of nights we spent gazing gray skies
When dawns soon arose enveloped in shroud
Love too got masked, cloaked in stygian clouds
And allure, once acclaimed, began to fade
As contempt of sameness dwindled our flames
As you leave this dream, dear, you know it too
No longer the birds choose to croon your tune
They are searching someone they loved and knew
The one they once wooed, who used to be you
January 27, 2021
Poem of the day on January 28, 2020
Placed 1st: Watered-down juice poetry contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Ten syllables per line (howmanysyllables.com)
An early morn mist that fadeth away
revealeth the goddess that stole this heart.
In radiance, her hair shone as blazing gold
soft-born winds welcomed her that fine day.
Her approach held me silent and steadfast
earth and sky both envied her elegance.
Nothing on earth could her power dispel
nothing could her love's depth ever outlast.
Transfixed, my frozen legs refused to act
for her magnificent beauty brought me fear.
Fear of not knowing why at me she gazed
I wished my lustful thoughts, I could retract.
O' Blessed day, when I saw that loving smile,
her warmth cast forth to calm this lonely soul.
With heart relieved and soul stripped bare,
I saw love's truth, in it was no human guile.
Then, she took my trembling hand and said
words that will forever burn in this glad heart,
"I chose you, for thy spirit needs true love's gift
and with it comes relief from all thou dost dread."
She led me to paradise through beacons of gold.
Emerald eyes sparkling, brighter than the sun.
I watched as mischief grew in the vixen's orbs.
She woke this heart that long ago had grown cold.
Alas, she spoke to me in a gentle lilting voice,
sweet symphonies she crooned in my willing ear.
Beyond the realm of all opulent Utopian dreams
my spirit rose aloft with her. In love, we rejoice.
Up to the stars then to the dark side of the moon.
Ere long we rested where no eyes could intrude
upon tender kisses she bequeathed to my lips.
My lovely goddess surrendered to me in a swoon.
O' what depth of passion between us doth lie.
Breath mingled with breath until the sun rose.
Within my arms she stirred, but for a moment
then snuggled closer with a soft angelic sigh.
She had chosen me to love in that early morn mist.
From dawn to dawn she endowed her glorious gift;
the gift of love, 'twas like no other I had ever known.
My golden haired goddess, lips longing to be kissed.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Written with admiration for a talented poet...Robert Lindley.
Robert, thank you for the journey among the brightest stars.
POTD 6 Mar 2020
Oh, where are those waves
of bygone days
that caressed and rocked
on hearing you cry?
‘Sleep little ship’ I'd murmur low
while ocean crooned her soft lullaby
Turbulent change wrought by tempestuous winds
Fresh cravings to taste the salted breeze
In foam and spray twixt the now lashing waves
Illusions waft to tempt and tease
Resounding thunder heralds a storm
Streaks of lightning split the skies
Your torch burning bright to take the helm
for selfish reasons my love denies
Indecisions vacillate crucial visions
cavernous chasms far withdrawn
The deeper I think the lower I sink
The wind howls forth a cry forlorn
No delusion with love ~ high the price
In this icy realm my resistance will take
a solicitous change of a Mother’s heart
Look not the shattered glass in your wake
The impulses of the over protective mother and keeping her child sheltered in a bubble away from the real world is just not feasible anymore. The ‘Breaking Point’ is, when she must weigh up her own feelings - either relinquishing her relationship with her offspring by forcing it to stay, or breaking her heart if she lets it go.
Ultimately, as in the ‘Story of Life’…. Love conquers all.
~Happy International Women's Day to those celebrating on Sunday 8th ~
POTD 6 Mar 2020
"Before a leaf-bud has burst, its whole life acts; in the full-blown flower there is no more, in the leafless root there is no less" - Ralph Waldo Emerson
I'm a sunflower,
dipped in honey of
bittersweet bronze smiles,
admiring its soulmate
strolling around the sun,
in sombre shine of
eclipsed dawn, whilst
these faes lure poisoned
pollens with flaming
ruby red ocean foams,
And I see a peculiar
patchwork on knitted
canopies, which are
sprouting clayey hearts
out of crimson crooned
willow branches.
Crumbling to pixies,
falling lifeless like fragile
leaflets in autumnal carols,
I believe, twin flame
telepathy is a souvenir
of roses and thorns,
which emerges as wanton
wildfire on the brim of
ocean's moon-song
in mellifluous mystery,
outlining turmoil in
turquoise land of trolls.
For, magnetised feathers
on matte lips always get
soaked in ashey sighs
of regret, whenever
bewitching conspiracy
of his amethyst eyes,
befalls in dialects of
forest's echoes and the
brittle skin of basilisk
slithers with a deadly gaze
upon my mulberry heart.
Chasing seasonal winds,
I became the fading mist
that succumbs to the
sheath of amber rays,
infusing in my lungs,
and suffocating my love for life;
Amidst these broken skies,
you left shadows of
pencil-sketched debris,
that float like wisps
of faulty daffodils,
distorting my dreams
and twisting thy truths,
in hellfire horizon that
sets our graves apart,
beyond million miles of
satanic soliloquies.
Still Weeping
Original poem - Verse - June 8, 2013
Many came with flowers,
rainbows of roses and lilies,
solemn people came and went.
And then it was quiet,
the white snow fell upon me,
as I lay waiting in my eternal peace.
In a low voice father spoke,
with tears so fondly all those years,
then an elderly man came to be with me.
Often my beautiful mother came,
so mournful she came on the coldest days,
then one day she came to be with me forever.
Many times grandmother came,
oh, I remember her sweet, lovely voice,
then she came one dark night to be with me.
Many times a little girl came,
she crooned my precious name, Susie,
her eyes so dark and sad with weeping tears.
And even now, so often,
a woman comes with raven hair falling,
could this be the little girl who is still weeping.
I hear the names she whispers,
she does not cry just for me but for all,
who lay with me beneath the grass, rain and snow.
_________________________________________
Still Weeping
The Makeover - Sonnet - March 15, 2015
Many came with flowers, rainbows of roses and lilies,
Solemn people came and went, then it was calm;
Snow fell upon me as I lay beneath the barren trees,
It was quiet when father read me a lovely psalm.
In a low voice father spoke to me so sadly for years,
Then an old man came to me beneath the azure;
Often my beautiful mother mourned me with tears,
And soon she also came to be with me forever.
With her sweet voice many times grandma came,
Then she was with me and I soothed her fears;
A little girl crooned Susie, my precious child name,
Could this be the young woman who still weeps tears.
She weeps and prays for all the names engraved in stone,
All who lay with me where wildflowers have grown.
______________________________
March 15, 2015
Poetry/Verse/Sonnet/Still Weeping
Copyright Protected, ID 03-654-292-15
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
For the Standard contest, The Makeover,
sponsor, Roy Jerden, Judged 04/2015
Second Place
Lithesome fingers trailed along
the ukulele’s frets
as Lilah played her dulcet lullabies.
Swaddled in a blanket, smiling,
lay her little lad,
looking up at her with large blue eyes.
Lilah lilted, “Sleep, my son,
for tranquil dreams await.
Lull-lull-lullabies for you I sing.”
As she crooned mellifluously
lulling him to bliss,
she watched small eyelids flutter-fluttering.
Lightly, lightly, letting fingers
roll along the strings,
Lilah moved her delicate small hand.
Eyes that lingered lovingly
on the wee one saw
him amble soundly into Slumber Land.
May 29, 2017 for Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer's Contemporary Poetry Contest
*I enjoy almost all types of poetry, but I suppose this represents more the Classical approach which I most often use (more lyrical and with some rhymes) though my focus is on alliteration here. I love the way L words sound!
Sometimes a song can take me back
Make my memories come alive
To a time when love was a way of life
And families struggled to survive
Sometimes I get a little mellow
When I listen to an old love tune
And dream of days long gone
How they passed by too soon
Sneaking my first cigarette
I don’t think that I was ten
And listening to the AM radio
While the Kalin Twins sang “When”
We grew up with real music
That helped us bear our heavy load
When Gogi sang “The Wayward Wind”
And Mitchum told us about “Thunder Road”
Sometimes when I’m down, I think about the past
And a different way of life
I’ll listen to Lloyd sing about “Stagger Lee”
Or Bobby relate the tale of “Mack The Knife”
There were a lot of question and a lot of answers
Some were wrong and some were right
Like “Does Your Chewing Gum Lose it’s Flavor
On the Bed Post Over Night”
Sometimes those songs bring a tear or two
But they always bring me joy
While Jimmy crooned “Just A Dream”
And the Shirelles loved their “Soldier Boy”
When Jim Ed Brown sang of “Scarlet Ribbons”
And Perry said, “Catch a Falling Star”
Dee Clark was calling “Hey Little Girl”
Johnny was thinking “Chances Are”
Sometimes I wish I could return
To the days of my childhood
Just to hear Johnny Ray sing “Cry”
Or Chuck wail “Johnny B. Goode”
Jimmie sang about a “Honeycomb”
And “Kisses Sweeter Than Wine”
The Orlons were meeting on “South Street”
The Chiffons said “He’s So Fine.”
Skeeter thought it was “the End of The World”
Because she lost her one and only
The Beach Boys said “Don’t Worry Baby”
Roy Sang for “Only The Lonely”
Sometimes.
From childhood days trees are my friends,
and may our friendship know not end.
When I was small, I knew their ways;
I listened to the fairy lays
they crooned into the scented air,
I parted the willow's long, green hair
and found a welcome place to stay
till happy hours ate up the day.
Then some of us with dreamer's hearts
have stood, breathless, in midnight dark
upon those special summer eves
when fairies dance beneath the leaves.
Once you have seen the magic start
you cannot thrust it from your heart.
The yearning lasts a lifetime through;
your dearest friends will be the few
who share this rapture, rare yet free,
to know and love a special tree.
Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson
He caught a ride to somewhere going nowhere;
first hopped inside a slowed-down limousine.
The driver felt a chill and turned to stare
at someone seated in the back unseen.
A new car’s scent; the passenger smelled nothing.
The seat of luxury he could not feel.
The driver then off-key began to sing
to no one as he slowly tapped the wheel.
His passenger joined in and crooned unheard
that ancient tune “It was a very good year,”
his old blue eyes once clear becoming blurred,
and down his cheek there rolled a single tear.
Again compelled, the chauffeur turned his head -
then saw a small spot where the tear was shed.
Come meet me when the sun has melted down
the mountains’ peaks like butter from the sky.
Come meet me far away from all the town.
It’s summer; on a blanket we can lie.
And although what is coming is foreknown,
we’ll still anticipate what is to come
when sun relinquishes to moon his throne.
Come lie with me and hear the evening’s hum.
How many are the songs of nature crooned -
those sweetest lullabies that we can hear?
We’ll listen in the gloaming, and attuned
to dusky sights and sounds, I’ll kiss you, Dear,
for soon to be enraptured by the moonlight,
with bliss we’ll linger on the edge of night.
Oct. 31, 2018 for Janis Thompson's Soap Opera Titles Poetry Contest
The Lying Tongue
sang a song
The Flattering Tongue
played along
The Know It All Tongue
intended the composition
The Meddling Tongue
held it's position
The Harsh Tongue
kept quiet for once
The Tactless Tongue
reluctantly obliged
The Rude Tongue
got annoyed
The Loquatious Tongue
was soon overjoyed
The Discouraging Tongue
hummed on
The Self-Depreciating Tongue
became withdrawn
The Argumentative Tongue
thought it all wrong
The Boasting Tongue
thought it right on
The Hasty Tongue
felt it was contrite
The Discouraging Tongue
and all this singing
The Indiscreet Tongue's
awkward whistling
The Complaining Tongue's
plodding drone
The Cursing Tongue
let out a no-no moan
The Judgemental Tongue
liked that a lot
The Self-Absorbed Tongue
rolled it's eyes
The Retaliating Tongue
held out a hat
The Intimadating Tongue
offered a prize
The Cynical Tongue
just laughed
The Accusing Tongue
choreographed
The Gossiping Tongue
signed autographs
The Doughting Tongue
crooned the refrain
The Accusing tongue
blasted the blame
The Hasty Tongue
fanned the flames
So the Belittling Tongue
dismissed the party
The Devisive Tongue
composed the ending
And the Silent Tongue
looked on.
* All tongues borrowed from
When the author of forever sang
his serenade,
‘twas longing in a virgin’s heart,
the strings he played.
So liltingly and stirringly
did words cascade,
they conjured scent of rose bouquets
in serenade.
Of everlasting love he crooned
in serenade.
Bliss never is inopportune.
His lure was laid.
As sweet refrains flowed through her veins,
the vow he made
was happiness without an end
in serenade.
Upon the troubadour who sang
the serenade,
she smiled, led him by the hand
to grassy glade.
And there beneath a blushing sky,
beguiled maid
succumbed with heady soul that rang
with serenade.
The author of forever, who
croons serenades,
woos the maids, then into the
horizon fades.
His lyrics penned are fiction; he’ll
be not delayed
from moving on, oh vagrant bard
of serenade.
Posted 5/30/2021
NA for Charlotte Puddifoot's Open Poetry 5 Poetry Contest
for Brian Strand's All Yours(Jun 8) Poetry Contest
Enchants, “Dors, mon amour,” night of romance.
Long ago, he crooned, put hearts in a trance.
André Claveau, nearing fifty years old,
effulgence of French lips, Eurovision’s gold.
Some audience, annoyed, at love’s deep sleep -
need be left alone, or for love to leap…
The words, that poetically churn, nonsense
to the incensed, these verses of suspense.
Sleep, my love - will she awake or’s love passed?
He’s locked his princess in tower of past.
The contentment, of love, some find boring -
nuances “ever-after” adoring.
1958, Giraud and Delanoë,
do stare into the lover’s peace and joy.
Sleep is in the hollow of his heart. She
is together with him all night, in lee.
It is not just in movement, we give praise,
for the hope of birdsong clings to dusk’s blaze.
“With all the refrains of the night,” heart beats.
“The sun is still far from daylight,” its sweets.
Poet might interpret eternal love
as in moment or forever “above.”
Such love is felt so deep and stirred in sleep.
It’s present in a Frenchman’s tongue. I weep.
A place of branches revealing an empty day
after a long rainy day
a time comes and goes
radiating golden light
on the window sill and a radiant downpour
and raindrops hit the window pane
akin to timorous wings
then all is still
stones are crooned to sleep
with the quiet sound of rain slowly subsiding
and cradled in the branches
deep in bowels of earth
among the bright buds a slumbering silence reigns
It has bitter incidents
forced breakthroughs
moments of disconnection
can also be glorious
experience in the spotlight
however we have been blessed
to be able to leave this world in a hurry
to breathe to live
to love to forget
to forgive to work
to start a fresh day with a recent toil
& be a muse to convey a smile to somebody's face
embrace this journey
halcyon destinations are ready
to sprinkle sparkles & to lighten
your ways with
shining stars
Written: March 28, 2023
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1204 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
The memory, of old, returns again
and tiptoes in like summer rain.....
If I close my eyes, I can feel the night
that wraps me close, beneath the stars
There were sounds of laughter all around
And crowds were milling all about
A saxophone was softly speaking
and Sinatra's voice was crooning, ...pleasing
For with a midnight tolling near
One by one, they drifted home...
Just a few of us, to dance the floor
All sense of time had halted course...
With shoes kicked off, and jackets hung
We couldn't bear the evening's end
Cheek to cheek with you that night
The last sweet dance would soon begin
The music stopped, but we did not
We couldn't break our tight embrace
We couldn't tear ourselves apart
And while we danced in pale moonlight
Our eyes were closed, you kissed my face
This was our own, enchanted place
You held me close, we danced alone
The night was ours to keep....our own
Though not a sound at all we heard
The lonely saxophone droned a tune
The record of Old Blue Eyes crooned
The music had no end