Best Dallied Poems
Oh, there was a past time when though my path was rough:
Joy once dallied in my heart but death now dwells-
like the frosty silence of a tomb.
In agony, I journey a stone path,
I am lost in endless weeping and grief.
In placid hours come thoughts like a winter dream:
Earth embrace him,
love, laid to rest!
My soul is aching and I am sleepy with numb pain:
Joy once dallied in my heart but death now dwells-
let him rest with dust in his eyes.
Oh, no more will he stir, nor breath,
how white the cemetery and how snowed-in.
I visit his tomb and stand suspended in time:
In this dead place,
by a frozen river.
Suddenly, the wind is kicking up the snow drifts:
the trees shake as a wild wind whistles
in winter pines,
overhanging boughs
pulling my hair:
I whisper- is that you my love . . . .
_____________________________
March 1, 2019
Poetry/Verse/Death: Now Dwells
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1119263-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Dance with Death
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke
First Place
Categories:
dallied, death,
Form:
Verse
The “forthcoming” backtracks on dilly-dallied whispers.
They place verbal down payments on layaway,
Incomplete soul mates
Running on muted slow dances
Blanketing their pain
“Oh, how I always wished for your lips against my selfless animosity”, said Nobody.
Another decrepit smile
Pandering arrogant Bible verses,
They stroke heartbeats
Made of blood diamond fallacies
Reflecting upon misery with convex eyes,
Companionship denied,
“I’m so glad you stayed”, said Somebody.
Placating vehement touch,
They ache for petulant innocence
To rock them to sleep
Lullabies venture unto unknown certainties,
Lackadaisical clef sharpens ill-fated tomorrows
They make “love” to invisible yesterdays,
Feeding off strenuous caress
Torn, silky dress
Perpetuating restraining orders in duress
Bloodied retinas blink,
Vexed
©Drake J. Eszes
Categories:
dallied, conflict, confusion, life, lost
Form:
Free verse
One day I delivered a poem
one that seemed to be premature
so I swaddled her up
and set her aside
to grow 'til I felt reassured
How she yowled and howled for attention...
how she cried so piteously!
How she coughed and she sneezed
whimpered and wheezed
then threw up all over me!
Still I tenderly tended her bedside
and lovingly nursed her along
determined to sacrifice everything
to raise her up healthy and strong
As she grew and recovered, she wandered
and crawled over everything
and I found I had trouble containing
my rambling, unruly offspring
She became an inexcusable bounder
a wayward and bratty ingrate
who despite all my love and affection
refused to make sense or read straight
She dallied in questionable places
she idled and shiftlessly shirked
lazily lagging, ignoring my nagging
while I selflessly, endlessly worked
Firmly applied discipline to her
and structure, and meter, and rhyme
but she bucked, and rebelled, and bit me
and stayed up beyond her bedtime
We wrestled, and wrangled, and brawled,
bickered in bitter altercation
if I didn't do something quite soon
she would ruin my good reputation
At length, I decided I'd had it
we had reached the end of the road
and although she clung like a wet paper towel-
I flung her and flushed the commode!
Categories:
dallied, humor, humorous, silly, word
Form:
Rhyme
Oh boy, she was gorgeous and I made mention of bed
She said she really liked me but she won’t until we’re wed
She often said there’s stuff that really ought to be discussed
But I could only think of getting hitched to quench my lust
We did it, we were spouses, and our first dance was real close
I thought that she would realise who wanted who the most
We left our guests to party and I hoped I would impress
And once we were alone I ripped apart her wedding dress
And that was when I wished that we had dallied before marriage
For there and then I found ‘her’ quite extensive undercarriage
‘She’ said, “Why don’t you try it out, I’m sure we will be fine.”
I said, “Why would I play with yours… when I could play with mine?”
Well, ‘she’ looked shocked and what she said caused all my toes to curl
‘She’ looked at me and muttered, “Oh! I thought you were a girl.”
I said, “Are you quite bonkers for you’re talking really weird,
I’m stood here and I’ve got a most extensive ginger beard!”
‘She’ sauntered to the bed and threw me down upon my back
And said, “I’ve got a gift for you and it is never slack.”
‘She’ nipped into the bathroom saying, “You can be the wife.”
‘She’ came back with a sexy smile… and a massive knife!
Categories:
dallied, boy, confusion, girl, marriage,
Form:
Rhyme
“When the pen falls silent that once danced to the muse’s command and when the poet’s heart no longer beats with rhyme, we realize that the poet in us is dead. It is a sad truth difficult to reckon.” ~ By Poet
Far from the din of madding crowd,
And away from the bustle of city streets,
I withdrew into a solitary spot,
To turn my thoughts into dazzling verse.
Shelley and Shakespeare came in view,
Emily and Eliot fell in line,
Their verse ringing loud and clear,
Their energy fanning fire within
I dreamt of putting proper words,
To clothe my thoughts in striking notes,
Longed to pour my loaded heart,
In powerful verse to move the hearts
But as I started scrawling down,
All that I had stored in hoards –
Ebbed out into mere froth and foam,
Leaving bits of broken thoughts
I sallied out for a stunning theme,
And stroked my pen to put it down,
But topics eluded me one by one,
Unable to decide on what to dwell,
I rummaged my memory for apt words,
And dallied round with lofty themes
Yet nothing other than splintered thoughts,
And hackneyed phrases came alive.
I strained hard to give them life,
And labored in vain to make them rhyme,
‘The Blazing Sun’ and ‘the Brilliant Star’,
Both faded out with no trace of glow.
I envisioned before me the Sacred Mount,
To drink from the fountain gushing down,
But hot lava spurted out,
And the wings of fancy burnt outright!
No Muse appeared to enliven me,
Nor my fantasy lingered long,
The words that once flowed like honey
Dried up with no inspiration, coming to nourish.
Staring blank into the scroll in front,
Unable to scribble even a moving thought,
Like a soldier vanquished in war,
I put away my paper and pen.
I greatly lament the death of the poet in me,
And wonder if ever will have a rebirth!
Categories:
dallied, death, pain, poetess,
Form:
Elegy
FOR MARY MAGDALENE
Between necessity and freedom I was crucified
Perceiving Himself endlessly on the cross
Yet aware, as an onlooker, petrified
My vision that never was, would be His loss.
I mimed too, as they hammered in the nails
Once more assuaging myself in His deep tears
Once more my heart rallying where my speech fails
To give His lips the vinegar it fears.
Sun eclipsed, I dallied with the vision of day,
A multi-chromed banner the old enemy was twisting,
Till I could no longer read in stone and clay,
My flower-head lopped, topped to the moment’s listing -
I shone for Him like a speck in the glory of the sunrise
Waiting for twilight, the beauty of the stars’ surprise.
by Rosemarie Rowley
from IN MEMORY OF HER, Dublin 2008
Categories:
dallied, appreciation, religion,
Form:
Sonnet
Mike and Victoria decided to get married
They lived together for seven years - too long they had dallied
They jetted off to Mexico to get wed
Lets have a party in the UK they said
We won’t make a wedding list we don’t like greed
We’ve been living together and have all the things we need
The best man thought this a little unwise
And a plan did form before his very eyes
Two weeks after the wedding the reception was held
When they saw all the guests their hearts just swelled
The gifts were piled up in the wedding hall
Boxes upon boxes they would have to open them all
The best man arose and told the odd joke
And how he thought Mike was such a wonderful bloke
'Please raise your glasses for a toaster to the bride and groom’
And everyone stood up around the room
The best man he made an unusual request
Could they open their presents in front of the guests
They opened the boxes and to their surprise
Twenty-seven toasters lay in front of their eyes
The bride and groom laughed at the best man’s little joke
They thanked all the guests who were wonderful folk
Twenty of the toasters were returned to the store
Seven went to charity to help those who are poor
Jan Allison
12th March 2014
~ Please read my notes about this poem ~
Categories:
dallied, humorous, wedding,
Form:
Rhyme
His mother told him, watch out
many a lass you will meet
with some you will dally
share a kiss or two,
some you will bed
but take care, for a lass
that's too easy is not to be wed
this advice he took to heart
with many a lass he dallied
most to his bed he took
'til one day he fell in love
with a lass called Jill
on bended knee he asked her
will you please wed me
oh no she said no never
my mother warned me of studs like you
she told me, bed them, don't wed them
for a stud he will always be
Categories:
dallied, fun, men, women,
Form:
Verse
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Nineteen
“Not that I had not spied your tulip-lipped doting jasmine airs
Nor the way your wraith-like form take me back to sumptuous fairs
Of Samarkand yore whence I dallied with dulcet-toned damsels
Just that my incognito pursuit here had little need for flares.”
“The sombre air you cloak yourself in to much deceit succumbs,
I pain to endorse the waste your ivory casing entombs.
Come! Let’s conjure the day ere the lurid night-half lengthens,
I would you were mine to confide ere summer solstice enthrones!”
“Now I’ll this reconnaissance to Our Lady Lake entrust
Know thou well my light-foot Maiden being of like-nature must.
Time is but a secret door like-minds might easily unlock:
Be it days or years or eons two hearts in one bind robust !”
Alas! Alas! The Ol’ Bard’s message bobbed up and about
Lady Lake’s unctuous raiments buffeted by squalls in bout;
The tulip-lipped Lass unawares thought no more of her act
Till the Mairie’s men-at-work fished the bobbing bottle out !
The Men of Paperasse studied the Bard’s note in all duty haste
And drew the conclusion: ‘Secret messages across time’s waste
Confirm the guilt of one and the other from distant powers!’
The arraignment was drawn up, signed and sealed with wax paste.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
dallied, allegory,
Form:
Rubaiyat
Lazy morning rain
Oh lazy rain
Oh lazy morning rain
Coming from the pervaded cloud
Encompasses the sky cloud
Why must you spoil this bright morning?
You delay those who are going
To their daily activities
You delay those who are seeking for jobs
Willing to study students are
being dallied. you gave
chance for lazy
One as you to smile, go away
Go away
You splatter upon the roof
As the sound thatchers thatching the roof
Your splash onto the windows give
Chance for cold to penetrate
A wailing cloud it's ok, you are wailing as if you will not
Wail another. You are not needed at this moment
People are shivering because of your present
Why don't you go and come at night?
Go away
Oh lazy rain
Go away
Oh lazy morning rain
Categories:
dallied, abuse, addiction, allegory, anxiety,
Form:
Rhyme
O Ahalya
celestial beauty
bloom like lotus
ivory red pink lips
supple like snake
fragrant like rose
A king Indra
a majestic man
radiant like moon
overwhelmed by Ahalya's
beauty like heaven
yes become mindless,
crazy like cupid
disguised as Gautama
sneaked in hermitage
eyes like stars
words like honey
lips like pink butter
O great sage Gautama
your heart pure like god
knew no falsehoods
penance like fire
O king of deities
you Sneaking in,
joined Ahalya in disguise
coupled and mating
drunk and sunk her deep
like wine
first-night wedding
she yet unaware
cold breeze
melting breath
she dallied in joy
thinking soul like Gautama
aah star embraced me
direct from heaven
hermit bloom like moon
whisper like magic
embracing soft
joy deep and long
sage a husband,
did not tarry
Gautama coming back
a deep mystic
same like sage man
exiled out of hermitage
Gautama anger like fire
ahho unwise Ahlaya
what you did
i curse you
curse like stone
Ahalya turns A stone
burning like fire
cold nightmare
a sin of lust
king deity was a liar
no stone age for him
he survived the curse.
after ages
RAMA kind lord
a god who crossed
seas to rescue wife sita
An Avatar,Tranquil,
pacific touch on stone
stone turned a woman
now sinless
Ahalya reunited
husband Gautama
Rama a true bliss
tranquil and calm.
His fronds brightens
While the lotus blooms,
waning raving hearts,
drowning in the bliss
Categories:
dallied, analogy, anger, beauty, conflict,
Form:
Epic
When up I was growing, awed and confused,
sure was not I of which road to choose.
For binary my soul and dellusioned my mind,
I dallied at crossroads and worried not time.
Advised by my parents, mentors and teachers,
and hell and damnation from gospelling preachers.
And I young of youth so impressionable dear,
grasped for their words but availed not my ear.
For swayed by the Devil, so I was told,
of treasures of pleasures of counterfit gold.
Timidly, more boldly, I sought new sensation,
of carnal reality I made preservation.
But conscience was bothered and remorsely did grow,
my feet they did ponder of which way to go.
Temptation too great for me to withstand,
I cried unto GOD to give me a hand.
But His Holy Doctrine is not found in haste,
but abnegate the world with a seedling of faith.
Of frustrating skeptisisim I became apostate
and inclined toward autism and apathetic fate.
Drifting and squinting thru lusts' glaring light,
a glutenous hedonist all day and all night.
Inside of me though I feared what I was doin',
would eventually bring shame sorrow and ruin.
My karma so silent then leaped with a bound,
austere retribution enveloped me round.
So drubbed for my folly and benighted transgression,
my soul it feels cauterized, I caterwaul with compunction.
Penalized and contrite, with diffident circumspect,
with empirical knoiwledge I never shall forget.
Categories:
dallied, adventure,
Form:
In a distant land many miles away
Lived a hermit who dilly dallied all through the day
When it came time for slumber
He resorted to counting numbers
Of young lasses showing asses part of the beach ballet
© Jack Ellison 2015
Categories:
dallied, fun,
Form:
Limerick
It was the time when art was king,
Of artists whose praises we all sing.
Great minds there were in the Renaissance,
Through eons , unsurpassed, with little advance.
Greatness was embodied in the works of art,
In Lorenzo's gardens did Michelangelo start.
But great there was one of Mona Lisa fame,
Master painter, inventor - Leonardo his name.
Contemporaries for sure, one really wonders
Of the two, whose work steals the thunders.
David, the Pieta, Sistine Chapel, and more
Everlasting they are through ages sure.
But then there's the Lisa, Last Supper, inventions galore.
On their ingenuity and genius, the world lays great store.
Can genius be bestowed in multiple men?
Can peace and tranquility be shared even then?
Can two kings sit and reign on one throne?
Or squabble and fight like two dogs with one bone?
And so, these men of unparallel fame
Were set by chance a mischievous game.
Asked they were to adorn the Council Hall
With paintings to settle rankings once and for all.
With gusto did the two set about
A Battle each to prove their clout.
Leonardo chose the battle of Anghiari;
Battle of Cascina was Michelangelo's quarry.
Great was the strife between the two,
Each strove hard for the other to outdo.
Of the rivalry ,I heard, - the worst of all,
Art was the victim - and the two took a fall.
Relates the great chronicler Vasari,Giorgio,
That the nadir of art was seen in the Palazzo Vecchio
As each of the greats thought little of their craft
But dallied and diddled, till the populace all laughed.
The Cascina on naked bathing soldiers was based
On the banks of the Arno it was placed.
But the scene that was rendered was so ludicrous
That his work, sadly, bordered on the ridiculous.
Leonardo's Anghiari was a shade grim
But his chances to greatness was very slim.
He used oils from Pliny the Elder's recipe
But soon these flaked , were smudgy, and drippy.
Be that as it may
To Art's great dismay
What should have been great works
Were diminished by Rivalry's quirks.
Vasari painted over these objets de art
And replaced these with his own from the start.
Now conservators do scan, to see if they can,
Which of the two, Leonardo or Michelangelo, was
The painter of the elusive Magnum Opus.
~18 Jun 2016~
Categories:
dallied, art, history, jealousy,
Form:
Rhyme
"Hear your fate, O high-dwellers of the airy, wide open
Spaces and fertile plain, your rugged and enclosed
Lands, Sparta, untouched by that of hard-grinding war".
Thus, the fraught Oracle of Delphi had so spoken.
Now only I alone am left to ponder on all that was before...
And, which, wrongly, ignorant peoples should all suppose.
But Sparta should lose in victory -- whilst noble Athens
Would become more wondrous than any could ever
Have imagined! And although I am of Sparta...I think of her
As home. For I have hunted in the sprawling woodlands
Of Phelloe, dallied with the plodding tortoise in coy Arcadia;
Alalcomenae's giant oaks offering shelter from inclement weather.
I gave up tears when listening to ancient, groaning pines
On the sandy coast of Elis, marveled at white Blackbirds
In Cyllene, ate the dates of Aulis, tasted olive oils
From Tithorea; when sat at the table of the Gods dined
Upon wild strawberries from Helicon! The flashing roils
Of Saronic dolphins. The Six Caverns that none dares disturb.
Alas, in my distress I am more troubled than Menelaus;
And have known a hundred-fold more greater a jealous pride...
All his murderous heartaches. Same, sudden, gut-wrenching blow
At first encounter; this which serves no man any good cause...
Apart to live in melancholy. Skin as perfect as untouched snow.
A wilful deceit that can hide behind an unemotive woman's eyes.
Forgive me, Pausanias -- there is beautiful poetry in your words my friend!!
Categories:
dallied, myth,
Form:
Rhyme