Best Curious Poems
A young man leads his girlfriend to a tree
one sultry summer eve as night is looming.
the branches of the old oak form a canopy
under which he leans in for a kiss, assuming
his new love also feels their romance blooming.
The pretty girl is innocent and shy,
but from the boy’s sweet kiss she feels that he
might be her one true love; more kisses make a sigh
escape her lips. Her inhibitions flee,
and touching him arouses her curiosity.
Aglow, they feel a passion all-consuming,
undressing one another as fingers fly.
The curious moon, with incandescence blooming,
peeks down from a star-bedazzled sky.
Young love with moon above shall never die.
Written 10/17/12 for Francine Robert's
Romance me with English Quintains Poetry Contest
and now for A true love -poem #2 - Poetry Contest of poet destroyer A
Evergreen pines
Evergreen firs,
Yellow moon size star rays shining through,
Nighttime in the forest.
Red cardinals mutter, mourning doves coo
On branches in sleep
Roosting in their wait for the morrow
To forage.
Rustling mice on decaying leaves,
A roaming cat strangely at peace with the night,
Lets the critters sleep.
So curious is he.
Big footprints sound and scrape loud whispers,
The critters get restless and noisy,
Tell each other there’s a brand new day; a human on the way,
And chattering twitters turn into joyous prattle.
Then the crescent sun of the dawn
With its holy glory on the world awakes
Rise up. little children, it’s Christmas morn.
Rise up, little children, Jesus was born.
And Santa has come to celebrate.
Flowers of the Curious Mind
Sent were flowers of the curious mind
following echoes of Cantu's muse
No curses , words grossly unkind
insults hidden deeply in clever ruse
Dare not stab sweet music of mortal man
with deeds sordidly played tho' sweet
Transgress not Nature's surviving plan
with arrogant contempt born of defeat
Embrace life's melody as a lost friend
dancing within it's tune so fine
Live, live gloriously until life's end
drink, drink richly of it's finest wine!
05-24-2014
My verse has been chosen as Poem of the Month at Sherborne Abbey!
The curious offerings of sacristans
Are given in obscure humility
The symbol of the cupping of the hands
Enshrines the essence of this mystery
The dawn unlocked; the turning of a key
The mystic world behind the little door
The mourning weepers, watching, silently
The quiet foot upon uneven floor
The layered shadowed centuries; the pass
Of long dead worshippers before the throne
Slow shifts of coloured pools of stains of glass
Soft drift of latticed light on pillar stone
The empty candle, thirsting for new oil
Unscrewed and filled, screwed up again and lit
The hidden corners, carved by masons’ toil
In which a wary flickered flame may flit
The covering, uncovering; each fold
Of linen and of altar cloth an art
Within the starch of white, on marble cold
The space to hold His living, beating heart
Here, understated wafers wait in line
For blessing, as an unblessed congregation
Here silver, water, light, and red wine shine
Anticipating sacred consecration
Here eye, and hand, and mind, seek symmetry
In objects placed, in psychic ebbs and flows
Seek that perfection only God can see
In right angle and scented mystic rose
When all are done and gone, her hands will shake
The fragments of His flesh on holy ground
Shed drops upon the earth its thirst to slake
Pour water through the light without a sound
When all are gone, all blessed with wine and bread
There, in the East, where better men have trod
She kneels and presses to the step her head
And, lost in awe, she speaks these words to God
I am that ancient soul you always knew
A part of you, from when time first began
The I am that I am, the that in you
That serves thee, as I will, while still I can
I come to you as Christian, Muslim, Jew
Agnostic, Gnostic, Druid, Angel, Man
The cupping of my hands I give to you
The curious offering of a sacristan
© Gail Foster 2016
Lecherous Luther was wont to grope
He ceased to function at the end of a rope!
Here lies Cletus as stiff as a board
He slipped on the ice and busted his gourd!
Here rests our dear Ruby who failed to duck
She was beaned on her noggin by a hockey puck!
Egbert the boxer took a fatal jab to the jaw
He died on the spot for failing to yaw!
Interred below is Purvis rigid and prone
Alas, he choked on a chicken's bone!
How we lament the loss of Naomi our sister
She was whisked up and away by a Kansas twister!
Dudley kept in shape by regularly joggin'
Alas, he tripped and fell crackin' his noggin!
Phineas was laid to rest for his eternal snooze
He died too young because of his fondness for booze!
Wilfried didn't heed the warning regarding the curve
He met his doom in a Lamborghini for failing to swerve!
While breaking a bronc Tex was abruptly unhorsed
Perhaps the task would've gone better outsourced!
Initially, Lady adopted just the gray One for love and fun.
A pal gifted another, a kitten who needed a Mother.
Though spayed, One let Two nurse and her milk did disburse,
said a Vet whose face crunched, bemused and confused.
For One and Two days passed with Lady’s love steadfast.
Cat Three showed in winter’s cold, wanting warmth’s hold.
At first, Three was snubbed by grown One and growing Two.
Eventually their curiosity was peaked by things Three did do,
strange things Cat One and Cat Two could not reason thru.
Three stole garments from the basket of Lady’s dirty clothes,
dragged them into corner places that she carefully chose,
and then she, Cat Three, exposed all to odd licking throes.
Appalled, One and Two would withdraw and prissily pose,
until pride turned trite when Lady raced a laser, red light.
Four showed one Spring day, when Lady saw a gray tail sway
belonging to a striped, cat-baby who had no home or safety.
Lady immediately, eagerly, telephoned her brother, Clark,
and asked if Four would officially make her a Crazy Cat Lady.
He spoke, but she could not quite hear the words from Clark,
not over his ten dogs harmonizing a united, piercing bark.
She comes to a strange world, a lustrous pearl
A cadenza of angelic beauty
Orchestrating her strange star, this wee girl
From moonbeams and sun swirls a young cutie
Not a puddle she sits, but a mirror
Of magic images that twirl and swirl.
Excited giggles at still clustered stir
she stands, jumps, and tilts in a giddy whirl
No fear in her wee world of excitement
Curious to figure out, nothing more
As her wee life unfurled with an ardent
Consistent of eagerness to explore
4/14/2019
I was sat on a rock adjusting my socks,
And what did I see, but a curious fox.
Who was most surprised, probably I,
So there we sat, both having a spy.
He cocked his head in a quizzical style,
I blew a little whistle, and gave him a smile.
His ears pricked up, He sniffed at the air,
He slowly stood up, as if I wasn't there.
A fine fellow he in his red livery,
Standing there posing, as if to say "look at me."
He gave a great yawn, for he had been sleeping,
Not expecting to wake to such a strange greeting.
Then he was off, the encounter was done,
Rarely had a walk met with such fun.
Who'd have thought while pulling up my socks,
I'd have a meeting, with a curious fox.
Entry for
CONTEST NO 550,any form,any theme,
Up to a max of 20 lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand.
30/1/19. Placed =1st.
sunray glitters
on a silken thread
toddler’s finger
reaches for the
spider web
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~DARK CLOUDS~ 2020
AP: 2nd place 2022
Before I get there, I hope I know the reason for madness.
A Curious Mind
Is there really gold at the end of a rainbow?
This is one of the things I’d like to know,
If you get too close to a nuclear plant,
Would you glow?
If I look into the sun,
Just before the eclipse has begun,
Will I necessarily go blind?
Or is that just superstition?
Why doesn’t a ducks quack echo?
Why don’t I have the patience to learn piano?
This is what a curious mind asks,
This is what a curious mind wants to know.
Having a curious mind,
Is the best way to be designed,
Every new thing is an adventure,
So many wonders to find.
Original poem written for:
The contest “Short Poem Contest” ¤¤ 8th Place ¤¤
Composed by: Samual Ronthorpe.
Why kill love with curiosity?
* * * *
I wander tonight, in a curious slumber *
My sleep is held captive by the man in the moon
He peeks through my window, while enchanting the room * Enticing my dreams, where a choir assembles
The heavens entrance me with musical rumbles
The clouds twirl around to melodious tunes
Enraptured tonight, in my curious slumber *
My sleep is held captive by the man in the moon
Against window glass, branches tap to a rumba
With the breeze blowing in, curtains swirl pirouettes
Joining in, are the nightingales, warbling duets
As showers of meteors fall into tumble
I wander tonight, in a curious slumber
The stone's angle
offers no cover
as she lay
openly exposed.
Her pedipalp mane, disheveled
by the soft reverberation
of an accidental intruder.
Whose mouth will froth?
Whose stunned lungs will blanch?
Whose limbs will twitch
then stiffen?
Aculeus poised; quavering telson.
What is her decision?
Will you writhe in the throes
of her opaque venom?
Or will she?
Author's commentary:
Scorpions are intriguing creatures.
Urban legend has it that when they are threatened they will do one of two things:
sting their perceived aggressor, or sting themselves to death.
Thankfully, this is only a myth and my reverent faith in the scorpion remains intact.
But still, the idea led me to wonder why, when facing extreme hardship,
some people exhibit self-preserving behavior while others opt
to self-destruct.
It's fascinating to me that the latter could be considered a viable option.
Heck, even scorpions know better than that....
A
Is
One
Word
Never
Wholly
Alone
Like
One
As
I