Best Dampness Poems
'Tis now known why the Willow weeps,
a tragedy of love, its memory keeps.
For once a young man and young maid,
on tender grass, beneath branches lay.
Though pledged by birth to another,
from clans they hid, to be together.
Thus, the gentle Willow was their choice,
meeting beneath, till love they could voice.
The Willow held these secret lovers dear,
so would lower its boughs, when they drew near.
Thus tucked away in the Willow's womb,
could lay as one, yet this love was doomed.
For jealousy lurked within the pines,
spying young lovers thus entwined,
behind Willow's curtain of slender limbs,
He swore the maiden, would yet be his.
Thus, it came to pass one day,
as young maid softly made her way,
to their Willow, deep within the glen,
espied the branches did already bend.
Timidly, as she did draw near,
soft sound of sorrow fell upon her ears.
Parting Willow's branches to look within,
a dampness did touch upon her skin.
The Willow was shedding sap laden tears,
for the young man, in death, was near.
'Twas an arrow that had been used,
a potent poison, the tip infused.
The maiden, now blind with grieving mist,
pulled out the arrow, held it, in clenched fist.
Whilst cradled in love's arms, did he draw last breath.
Then, young maid, plunged the arrow, into her breast.
And so it is, that this story is told,
as the Willow's grief would not be consoled.
For unable to stop what had befell,
the young lovers, it had hid so well.
With will broken, as lovers lay dead,
the Willow, its branches, never again spread.
And because it is the memory it keeps,
it is to this day, that the Willow weeps.
The endless rainy days and nights
Leaving cold dampness in the air
Only grey clouds within my sight
Any form of happiness feels so rare
My thoughts and dreams a prison
No relief within my life so it seems
While I wish for any hopeful visions
As i stifle heart wrenching screams
A life where dreams are nightmares
Are now becoming my daily norm
Stopped looking for those who care
Happily ever after has no kinda form
In the dampness of those unslept sheets I find my solace
between the linear moments when you held my breath
and the last time we said goodbye:
Awakened by the thunder every calm fiber
goes dormant as I toss and turn
searching for the memory of your warm body
The rain slips easily from glass to ledge
and so do my tears;
Life with all its poignancy, cannot reach me here
beneath thick blankets of denial.
As I pretend the night away death does not exist,
nor does it live here, anymore
In the dampness of those unslept sheets I find my solace
through poetry in flight,
although I leave it to the angels,
to whisper you, goodnight !
Shades of pink paint the sky
gentle waves kiss my feet
return again to the sea
seagulls cry
Sun rises to bring the day
the dampness of the night
fading away
a new day
On the horizon specks of white
sailboats passing by
dolphins run alongside
unafraid
footprints in the sand
I am not alone
a kindred spirit
passed this way
seashells appear
driftwood too
remnants of the sea
treasures for me.
Pale red now the sky
the sun
peeks through the trees
bringing to life the beach
seabirds scurry around
there next meal to find
between each wave
is where their bounty lies
little diamonds dancing
sunlight on the sea
the beauty of it all
here for you and me.
in autumn’s dampness
a moth of fervent purpose
becomes another's-
diamond lattice glinting
before a hunter’s moon
We stroll beneath the Eiffel Tower,
Caught amidst an autumn shower,
Just my petite amie and me,
Snuggled warm and dampness-free.
Bound to hear true romance call,
Close 'neath our crimson parasol -
Her little dog takes shelter, too,
(Chance for a stolen kiss-or-two).
Oh, blessed am I to be your fella,
Your lips, bright as our red umbrella,
Juicy fruits, fresh from the vine -
Succulent when pressed to mine.
So, let the droplets dance and spatter,
Sweet its song, that pitter-patter,
The bubbles in our day's champagne ...
How wondrous, Paris ... in the rain!
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Red Umbrella" Poetry Contest, Eve Roper, Judge & Sponsor.
they warned me
against extremes
intensity must not be indulged
"Flying in between
is your safety scene
not too high
not too low
don't look too longingly below
don't fly too close
to the sea of his splendor
the blue green of his eyes
hypnotize, mesmerize
desire will dampen your wings
weighing you down
nor must you fly
too close to his passion
blazing bountiful in brilliance
his sensuality, a searing sun
will melt your wings; you'll come undone."
I should have listened
I should have known
Icarus ignited was I
My hubris lifted my higher
nothing seemed dire
overconfident in my ability
to fly away if need be...
your sensuality seduced me
drew me closer and closer
solar combustion on display
you would have your way
rays of radiant heat
in wave upon wave
emanated towards me
doused in desire
you set on fire
melting
melting
melting
burning turning twisting
writhing rigorously
pain and pleasure
came upon waves together
spiraling me out of control
seared straight to my soul
I fell
Oh, how I fell
from the apex into the swell
of the blue green sea of your eyes
sizzling fire subsiding
subsiding
awash in wetness
about to die
you hear me cry:
"I would do it again
and again
and again
today and any day
molten passion in my core
consuming, always wanting more
I know
you'd have me fly
again...
Icarus ignited
right up to your sky."
Eileen Manassian
"In Greek mythology, Icarus is the son of the master craftsman Daedalus, the creator of the Labyrinth. Often depicted in art, Icarus and his father attempt to escape from Crete by means of wings that his father constructed from feathers and wax. Icarus' father warns him first of complacency and then of hubris, asking that he fly neither too low nor too high, so the sea's dampness would not clog his wings or the sun's heat melt them. Icarus ignored his father's instructions not to fly too close to the sun, when the wax in his wings melted and he fell into the sea." Wikipedia
Aye and ’tis a bonnie glen
And for us the Laird’s enclave
Dinna fush the soldiers’ menace
‘Tis this moment that He gave.
And we gaither ‘neath the stars
And we tak the wine and bread
And we cleave with benediction
To each Word arr Saviour said.
This is Church
Mind not the dampness
And the laing hike to and fro’
For the Pastor of our choosin’
Meets us here, and helps us grow.
Though he lives just like an ootcast
With a price upon his head
He can still preach Heaven doon t’us
And we treasure all he said.
Sure ’tis hard times we endure
For the One King of our Kirk
Jesus, here, atop this hillside
And His glorious finished work.
And a lark flits kindly by us
And a sheep bleats out content
And we learn through sterling sufferin’
What the hunted Psalmist meant.
Hebrews 11: 38
(well spoken of the Scottish Covenanters of the mid 1600's)
She sat in the moonlight, her back to the bay,
Absorbed in thoughts of her own destruction.
A fortnight ago she had come to the rock;
At the break in the surf where the eddies pooled -
A night set afire by a bright blue moon.
As the surge crashed the rocks, the mist wet her face;
The dampness of the sea, like a petrichor.
Something other than the real presence of life;
A spirit or embodiment she could feel.
As she leaned into the soft spray of the sea,
She made out his form moving slowly towards her -
Not making a sound, like a leaf in the wind.
Sensing love beyond mortal comprehension,
She was drawn, into his embrace of passion.
Her mind whirled in the rapture of the moment,
As she was drawn ever further to his arms.
Voices like angels echoed on the seashore;
As the Heaven's grew brighter, she kissed his lips
Swaying in the endearment of her pleasure,
Giving a way to an enchantment unheard.
The surf splashed on the soft, wet sands, sending waves,
Over the water's bottom in rounded shapes.
What was unsaid more than spoke volumes that eve,
Eyes though unseen, peered deeply into her heart.
This strange man from perhaps yet another world,
Giving vent to a love, she cannot fathom.
An apparition lovely, yet sinister;
A figment in the night without any form.
Why was it she who stumbled, and found new love;
Was this a ghost of her imagination?
Yet somehow she feels his soft, warm embraces;
Somehow she could sense an omnipotent love.
He is her confidente, soulmate, new age friend;
She could never escape from these bonds so strong.
The sea stings her face, salt sends tears to her eyes.
She faces the moon, sees the smile on his face.
She knows now her destiny - what she must do;
Holding his hand they'll walk as one to the sea.
A is for alertness so you know what's going on.
B is for the brain freeze you get before the dawn.
C is cardiopathy so you can keep the beat.
D is for dampness when your trying to beat the heat.
E is for the exema you try to wash away.
F is when you fail at it and it causes you dismay.
G is always good enough to get you through the day.
H is for happiness when it finally comes your way.
I is for intelligence that you accrued with interest.
J is jubilation if and when you do your best.
K is certainly kindness towards your fellow man.
L is for the living and doing what you can.
M is for the mood your in that seems to ebb and flow.
N is for your neighbor, I wonder if you know.
O is for the one and only that everyone should have.
P is for the peaceful people who soothe us like a salve.
Q is the quick temper that rips apart your soul.
R is the relentlessness that keeps you in the hole.
S is sleeping soundly like a little baby.
T is for trusting, and I don't mean maybe.
U is usually the ultimate goal that we are striving for.
V is for victory, well you know, when we all finally score.
W is wishing for things that we don't get.
X is for xanadu, a land we've not known yet.
Y is for the yesterdays you hope are still to come.
Z is when you zip your lip and everything is mum.
Well what more can a person say to help you understand?
The stage is set, take three steps and come and join the band.
For Cyndi Macmillan's ABC Couplet Contest
This you see is a draft
Minds little notes of lines and verse
In dribs and drabs
In prose, I stab and stab
Repeating oft said words
Expressions rehashed to be reheard
Yearning only for that one to see
This my attempt at being me
The ebb and flow of a sadness boat
Feeble attempts to keep afloat
Yet drowning in words it seems to be
Prose no longer setting me free
Learning more and knowing less
Wise words not heeded at best
For lingering in the dampness there
Is death, burning slow with its evil stare
Eagerly I arose to welcome winsome spring
Anticipating an ebullient, sun-swept morning
Only to witness opaline skies turn gloomy
Shrouded in dampness of rain pitter pattering
Swirling dust emanating petrichor themes
Scattering dreariness on visage of dawning.
You too were awed, extolling scenic setting,
Lauding crimson hues that darkened swiftly,
Adulating rustling winds swaying maple trees
With echoes of thunder heard intermittently
As gray clouds hung closer, roiling hastily,
Pouring down streams, flooding streets rapidly.
Farther in distance, storm was now fleeting
Where sun’s golden rays began emerging
Scintillating mountains in amber ray beams
Lifting my spirits in birds’ rhythmic chirping
As your intimations warbled amorous hints
Arousing rhythms of romantic heart strings.
Charmed by tempo of dawn’s chromatic arc
As rising sun vanquished remnants of dark,
Lovingly we embraced missives of love spark
Echoing lyrics strummed by doting hearts,
Drawing inspiration from gilded azure skies,
Hypnotized in allure of your enamored eyes.
November 11, 2022
Placed 1st: Inspiring Rainy Days Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Heavy steel blue clouds dominate
The morning sky before day
A cool but dampness fills the air
Out on the porch to stay
A short while to enjoy the view
Before the sun rise red
To hear the crickets sing their tune
And roosters' song some dread
A Cardinal chirps to his mate
Songs of love at daybreak
Magenta coats horizon's clouds
Beautiful ~ no mistake
The Master Artist strokes earth's canvas
With colors of his design
Man can try to duplicate them
Given a lifespan of time
Beauty for just a few minutes
Then swish nature's scene's changed
Cobalt blue clouds hang suspended
As fog floats 'pon the range
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Contest: Submit A Poem, Any Theme ((In The Moment))
Gentle sounds of rainy days,
Cool dampness on a counterpane
The memory of my childhood years, beneath a quilt of poetry
Stirs longing for that healing grace, that comes again upon the page...
A mother's touch with vapor-rub
Some toasted bread, a tender face
A playground out beyond the dew..
The dampened swing, my misty view..
A shadow was my childhood friend, and sick-bed days a game
Imagination flew so high, my carpet ride to magic lands
My tattered book of childhood poems, still takes me by the hand
.................................................
My first introduction to poetry...Robert Louis Stevenson's Childhood Garden of Verses
(A sick-bed keepsake that kept me company)
November Intrigue--Five Haikus
Moss breathes dampness, near
shifting blankets of old leaves.
Beds of lichen thrive.
Both pure and pungent,
the air is soul-enhancing,
gifting faint wood smoke.
On the forest floor,
Princess Pine grows sweetly
in pristine patches.
Old stone foundations
and a gurgling waterfall
capture heavy mist.
Dark reeds cross the marsh
to a long strand of young spruce,
vivid and spritely.