Best Curtains Poems
first step in my final journey
stairway to universal consciousness
celestial light lures
wonder captivates
life’s silent movie
images rerun, stimulating recollections
no loved ones left behind
faint glimpses ahead
cherished souls linger in paradise
spirits wait for my entry
Earthly orb below grows vague
colors begin to darken
even Giza's pyramids
Eiffel Tower
Broadway lights
worldly realm's trappings fade
my spirit moves freely
no legacy do I leave
just one final kiss
one last tear
carried upon swiftly vanishing memories
curtains of wondrous night close
she half-heartedly stares
out the window, as if a mirror
the tree stands there
fragile and frail
uprooted, ready to snap
beneath the weight of winter
icicles hang like daggers to a heart
she sees no beauty in this
but she never liked her anyhow
she closes her eyes
and sees him there
as if an old photo
she traces the edges
she remembers the blush
beneath his touch
and sees it as it splashes
early morning skies
she knows there is no warmth
from sun beneath winters wrath
it unattainable like his heart
she realizes he never loved her
he can't, he doesn't know how
she glances towards the mirror
as if staring out the window
and sees the same
she sees no beauty in this
but she never liked her anyhow
Something's changed, I don't recall this door.
The mat that once read 'welcome'...now gone.
Am I lost in the night, or had I forgotten some slight..
had my address been quelled by another time?
The new curtains in the bay window seem nice,
though..not the deep blue highlighted sash you fell for.
And on that foreign floor, a sweet Labrador lies napping.
Not the lightning fast hound rescued from the shelter.
My key's jingle, so hollow in sound, questions me now..
whether I know left from right, right from wrong..
Two boots waited, under an unfamiliar porchlight,
neither I recollect as my own..
every sunset I knew seemed to've gone.
I stepped back from a stranger's stair, perhaps deceived by my own eyes..
retracing my tired steps from the long day, to the oak in the yard,
was it always that tall?
Surely the messages you left would offer a solution from this lunacy,
a chance at a door opening, inviting me, lovingly from this nightmarish scene.
But they had all disappeared.., save one.
Staring hollow eyed into the dimming display's abyss, I read the last will..
your last thought retraced..in taps' mournful horn.
The air in my lungs abandoned me, my shoulders suddenly
weighing so heavy, in a torn and bloodied uniform.
Somehow the night sky was no longer mine to share..
absent your side, shaking my head in my hands..
my God, how could it be?
The door and locks changed, the porchlight rearranged,
the blue curtains went too,
The scratch of toe nail's click clack.. nowhere to be found,
even the dog was removed.
Turning away from the lawn to the long sidewalk, oblivion my companion,
I laughed out loud at the fool and folly and future that lie in store.
There's a fine line between truly belonging.., and only being,
bitter lesson learned at a strange door..
Finally saddeningly, maddeningly.. it dawned,
why everything was tipped on its face.
Your last message, echo'd in my broken mind..,
'you've been replaced'.
My heart is made of lace held fast by Holy fabric strings
its red like a pomegranate warm like my Father's love
my heart is open like a rose in summer when it sings
and when I meet a stranger,... it chances it thereof
My heart is volatile like a bird through an open door
it beats to pulsed emotions living deep inside my chest
finding favor with my soul loving me with sweet adore,
it pumps blood inside my chambers, never taking rest
This heart of mine is made of love and Holiest of things
I spend my time giving true support to those in need
if I were Angel my heart would own two quill wings
but Angel I am not, although I love to plant the seed,
Its only God that can turn a heart into Holy fabric strings
Its only God that can turn a heart into a heart that sings.
On a ship
Poet (Po)
Reason (Re)
Po: Look at the billow of the sails,
the sea, its black and blue hails.
Re: I’ve seen it before, even now and again.
I miss the pines outside my window pane.
Po: The sea kicked back for you and me,
flapping and fraternizing with the enemy.
Re: Even dandelions, even their seeds…
painted onto my eyes…even the weeds…
Po: Banish your thoughts of land and its blubber.
Enjoy the fishy smell of salt and deck scrubber.
Re: You’ll think differently if today we drown.
Curtains could be drawn, take us down.
Po: But I hear the wind’s bells and sea carols;
the mesmerizing squall without perils.
Re: Hide the sound from your ears, Poet.
Beautiful sirens and sharks know it.
Po: The lyrics drape over the sides, and embark,
sad and true, surely don’t lie, moon’s watermark.
Re: What a fool with your measuring rod, the rings
will tatter, split this boat into a raft without wings.
Po: Embraceable you…this mermaid is playful.
Her and her lullaby friends, my mind they fill.
Re: I fear the tidal wave, its cloth, our shroud.
The ripcord and undertow, of teeth, are loud.
Po: Auld rhymes and runes have lured me into the sea.
I’ll just lie back and listen to the soul-stirring poetry.
Re: I see now, I’ve learned my lesson too late.
Leave the poet on the shore. Don’t wait!
Po: O the climax of this sensual score. It is certain
our sea-harem will be unveiled beyond the curtain.
Setting: Central Park, with a lake directly behind the character Giselle, who is sitting on a large rock.
Characters:
Giselle (G): A pretty redhead, who lives in a fantasy world, believing she is a princess.
Frog (F): A frog Giselle hears talking somewhere near the rock.
Dialogue:
F: Hey, Miss, why are you sitting on a rock?
G: What’s that? Who’s there? I heard somebody talk.
F: I’m down here, Miss, admiring your frock of pink and blue.
G: Oh my! It’s you? But you’re a frog. A frog I’m talking to?
F: Yes, but truly I’m a prince. A spell was put on me.
G: Oh my. I know your story and what will set you free.
F: You say you know my story? Whoever might you be?
G: I’m a princess searching for my prince, but nobody believes me.
F: Well, get this. Every time I talk, people think I’m croaking.
G: Wow! I hear you clearly. They’ve got to be joking.
F: You’re as pretty as a princess. It’s fate that we should meet.
G: You recognize who I am. Dear frog, you are so sweet.
F: Yes, Dear. I am a prince. You know what you must do.
G: Yes, I know what I must do to have a love that’s true.
F: Please pick me up, my darling, and give me true love’s kiss.
G: Oh, my prince. Our life will be filled with so much bliss. (she leans down to pick up the frog).
Epilogue: Caught immediately upon kissing the frog, Giselle is whisked off by her father to the mental institution from which she had fled.
Curtains, at Grandma’s house,
hide the inner sanctum -
memories remodeled.
—Quote by Poet
I Recall Curtains
Loveliness is lace; I recall curtains.
Village without curtains; and lace.
One bow on a pine, lopsided star.
Intricate lace is snow white.
Many pines in the mountain skies,
the chimney and post office spire
pointing at the twinkling stars, all
hover over the curtainless village.
Rocking horse and spinning top, highlight
the two-storied “Toys and Games.”
I wonder who lives upstairs at the “Bakery.”
Such a teeny tiny village offering, yet
the daintiness embellishes a Winter wall;
Loveliness is lace; I recall curtains.
I . . .
will draw back the curtains,
that hide what dwells beyond my sigh;
deep within where I keep the truth in,
for, past my beautiful disguise;
there is a heart and soul that weeps and cries !
I must and I will- see my heart and soul free . . .
LORD, how do I rid the debris?
Oh, do you hold that special key (?)
for, past my beautiful disguise;
there is a heart and soul that weeps and cries !
I taste the dark tears of my pain,
and I am torn apart inside;
my wish is break the chain,
where, I mourn all who have died;
for, past my beautiful disguise
there is a heart and soul that weeps and cries !
Oh, look into the window for my heart and soul;
do I have a chance LORD- to ever be whole?
my prayer to you- is to fly high before I die . . .
___________________________
December 21, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/Pulling Back the Curtains
Copyright Protected, ID 12- 1315-539-21
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Curtains Of Your Soul
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judged 12/26/20
First Place
It's cold behind the curtains.
The frost is settling in.
The icicles hanging from the roofs
are drying in the wind.
The Moon is getting colder
as day gives way to night;
one owl's ruffled plumage:
a rest for lunar light.
From chimneys rise the wintry scents
of burning firewood,
keeping warm the occupants
of a sleepy neighbourhood.
The oak and beech quiescent,
all the ash and hazel too.
Dormant in the twilight
of a year that's almost through.
The solid ground is sparkling,
the crispy grass is full of stars.
This winter's fallen leaves
wear delicate coats of frosted glass.
So little sound is in the air,
you can almost hear the cold..
With the gentle caressing of the wind
upon a peaceful world.
Underneath the icy Moon,
in its bitter, twinkling night,
the owl spreads her silent wings
and takes to silver flight.
World scene..'
Dinosaur snuffs noisey,
crash! eternal silence.
Copyright Joe Maverick 2010
(breaking news) Dinosaur writes , for SKATS contest.
back to extinction...i mean retirement for now..!
Six months from now and it's curtains for me
I'll crash through the barrier of 80
I'll officially be old and crotchety and senile
Pablum after my morning pee
Oh for the days had no trouble getting dressed
Now I forget my darn Jockeys
Don't wanna share this bod with anyone else
Everything's become kinda floppy
Once had tight abs... now who am I kidding
The tightest my abs get now
Is when I try bending down to tie up my laces
At times feel like a pregnant cow
I grunt and strain and been known to curse
Saying bad things like, “holy heck"
Can remember those real naughty old phrases
Like “go to blazes” or “pain in the neck”
Guess six months won't make a hugh difference
I'm pretty well ready for the pasture
One thing I've noticed since reaching “maturity”
Time seems to be going a lot faster
So here's some advice for all you young'uns
Enjoy life while you still can
Before you know it, the darn jig will be up
And you'll just be an also ran
© Jack Ellison 2015
Open the curtains
I opened the curtains this morning,
And start a brand new day,
Hope today will bring happiness for everyone,
And joy will come our way.
Spend time with loved ones,
Create some happy memories that say,
You are so very special,
And loved in every way.
If family or friends are miles away,
Send a message, make them smile,
And wish them a good day.
Before you go to bed at night,
And close the curtains to,
Make sure you let your loved ones know,
They mean the world to you!!!
26/6/23
Just because something has not been found wanting
transparency to shed a light on a subject with intentions
with a certain level of unravelling the knowledge questioned
It does not mean that it never existed to begin with
searching issues we live to not fear questioning the author
answers carry the evidence that truth never hides behind
the storm has clouded many minds from awakening
A calm will come when those led down the wrong path turn
the stench from such wickedness will come at harvest time
their's a separation coming for those who stand on the right side
Then the left will remember the cornerstone they rejected
we all know the sands will be shifting and the rock will remain solid
poor is the soul that has lost track of wisdom believing in the world
Death hides in the curtains as it creeps upon you in the night.
May it find you at your strongest, as it always finds you at your weakest.
Let it come fast like a thief in the night, and let you be blessed.
Death watches over you in the mist of the night!
May it watch with kindness and dispair, as it holds its dagger back.
Let it come slow like the last drops of blood come, and emotionally
Death is here and its wakes you desparetly in the early morning.
May it take away all happiness and sorrow, and let it be fast
Let it be your last, as the dagger of love and temptation,
as it drips away your last few seconds of life.
Setting: a rendition of Tara Plantation, 1860’s Georgia
Characters: Scarlatina (S), an oddly-dressed Southern Belle
Brett Rutler (B), a dashing, but presently quite confused, rogue
Scene: The characters discuss Scarlatina’s attire.
S: Oh, it’s you again, Brett.
I was hoping to see Ashley.
B: How needy can you get?
I say “Ashley Schmashley”!
S: I’ve been in slow motion today.
I spent a long time getting dressed.
B: Well, I was going to say
you seem subdued, but not depressed.
You’re wearing something—uh, new
unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
S: Isn’t it just the loveliest hue!
This style makes me feel like a Queen.
B: Where in hell—I mean where on earth
did you find that d-dress you’re wearing?
S: I spotted this unique gem of great worth
in a store window. It seemed to be daring
me to claim it. I simply couldn’t resist.
Its draw was powerful. It had to be mine.
B: I assure you I get the gist.
With me, it would be fine
if you next dressed as a ham.
Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!
Epilogue: Scarlatina, desiring a new dress, eyes the wallpaper as the curtain falls, not the one she's wearing.