Best Decking Poems
Your loosened hair
Gleaming in the benign sun
Roses in our blood inhale dense air
Decking up before departure has begun
The green is paling one by one
It's the dance of death in colour
A fountain of farewell with a hue
For the cracking bones of October
Palliating painters seated in queue
Picasso brown red and blue
The message on the train is as clear as an apple
Our hues are too fleeting to hold
Come let's dance dear before yellowing begins in maple
Before our roots get too old
Under the introverted autumn sun let's melt our gold
October 20, 2020
Autumn Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Francine Roberts
Categories:
decking, autumn, color,
Form:
Quintain (English)
The tide worn and barnacled pylons
holding up the wharf wobble
on a sea swell like loose teeth.
Most of the decking planks
are missing. Those that remain
span joists with bones
of rotted wood fastened down
with rust. A chain wire fence
bars public access
and a large red sign
screams a message of danger.
I find myself looking through
the wire, asking who else
would stop by and perceive
a strange beauty here,
that in the wreck
of this derelict wharf,
something immutable
has found a home in the rot.
Its history
is not mine nor does it
conspire with a notion
to snare me with a kind
of enticing nostalgia.
What is here is more like
time chewed pick up sticks
stuck in mud.
And yet I don't know why
I am moved so, standing here
with all the reverence afforded
a relic of something almost holy,
why my pen should waste time
chasing such an elusive presence
around a page.
Perhaps what is here
is an essence of what my mind
cannot grasp, that other,
a mystery imprinted on a finite world,
a longed for sign of hope
in a language known only
to the soul - or is it simply
something more mundane,
slowly loosening the pylons
holding up my brain.
Categories:
decking, age, hope, mystery, visionary,
Form:
Free verse
First Christmas without you, my dearest, my love
Cruelly taken too soon on the wings of a dove
How can I rejoice when my heart broke in two
Those memories still vivid of my last days with you
No holly, no ivy are decking the hall
No Christmas cards; no Christmas tree; nothing at all
Awakening early on this Christmas day morn
I watch the sun rising, for it’s just before dawn
The full moon is shining, like a beacon from afar
And very close to me there is a twinkling, silver star
I am pulled towards my garden as the dawn begins to break
And gently wipe sleep from my eyes; I need to be awake
The moon shines down so brightly, as if to celebrate
Illuminating my old Fir tree, adorned with snowflakes twinkling at me
I venture closer to my tree to witness tiny birds a fluttering
A nightingale perched on the top, a joyous song she’s uttering
I watch this magical scene unfold in wondrous disbelief
and dabbing tears of joy and love with my Christmas handkerchief
That twinkling, silver star is Venus; known as the Goddess of love
I feel your love enveloping me as she twinkles and sparkles above
For somehow Mother Nature has, in all her Christmassy glory
Gifted me a happy end to my grief-stricken Christmas story
Written 10th December 2018
Competition: Christmas Tree
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
5th place in Premier Contest
Contest A BRIAN STRAND COUPLET
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
Categories:
decking, christmas, moving on, tree,
Form:
Couplet
Anybody feel like singing? :)
It’s the most poetic time, of the year
where the writers are writing,
the blog pages fighting
and comments of cheer
It’s the most poetic time, of the year
It’s the soup, soupiest season of all
with those verses a’ flowing
of winter and snowing
and decking the hall
It’s the soup, soupiest season of all
You’ll read stanzas of loving
of snowballs they’re gloving
and packages under the tree
There’ll be lines filled with phrases
of faith and its praises
in every poem you see
It’s the most poetic time, of the year
you’ll find poems for reading
with broken hearts bleeding
it soon will be clear
It’s the most poetic time, of the year
~
Written to the melody of the song: "It's the most wonderful time of the year"
Written by George Wyle and Edward Pola.
Originally performed by Andy Williams
Categories:
decking, song, winter,
Form:
Lyric
Shining like a golden beacon
in the early morning sun
a joyous place to take a stroll
where everyone is having fun
Meandering down the decking
opens up spectacular views
glistening diamonds on the sea
as she displays her many hues
Gift shop full of souvenirs
a memory of your special day
seaside items ~ frivolous buys
like memories now are tucked away
Victorian tea rooms tempt you in
an English tradition to savour
freshly baked scones with jam and cream
a cup of earl grey such a delicate flavour
Amusement arcade many games to be played
pockets full of coins with hopes for to win
huge cuddly toys for girls and for boys
back at your car far too big to fit in
Boats sail by as the sea meets the sky
you daydream how life used to be
those halcyon days so calm and serene
dreamily gazing at the azure blue sea
Spend a whimsical day let your mind float away
absorbing the ambience and atmosphere
no nicer way for to spend a summer’s day
than to promenade on Eastbourne’s Golden Pier
and my Darling I am wishing you were here…
Written 9th June 2019
HONORABLE MENTION
Contest: YOUR CHOICE(5),any form,any theme
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Copyright © Ann Gilmour | Year Posted 2019
Categories:
decking, happiness, how i feel,
Form:
Rhyme
She moved her eyes around...twirled her curly hair
And moved me playfully around her waistline
She is a beautiful art of Leonardo da Vinci and a twig of jasmine flowers
Extracting the colors from bangles...she smeared red color to her cheeks
She flipped me into the air like a kite tied to a ribbon
She is a girl with beautiful eyes and attractive like a old monk rum
With her ruby like lips...she made me fall in love
She won over me in a battle without using swords
She danced gracefully on my heart
Looking at her dance...I let go of my sleep
Drying the clothes on the terrace...humming gently...she sang a song
That is making my little heart overwhelmed with joy
Handing me a cup of coffee...as her fingers touched me
Like a current cable...she has flared up a mild voltage in me
Adding flavors to my dreams...she is looking at me with love
She pinned a strand of thread that joins the flowers together in to my heart
She captivated me in the border of her saree
She wishes me early in the morning and comes to my dreams at night
Where ever I go I keep thinking about her
She pushed me into a world of illusion
Closing the doors...she threw away the key
She took my heart till the silver lining of the clouds
And silently pushed aside the ladder
She enclosed my heart tightly in her palms
Like a fragrant breeze her beauty breathed life into me
She has imprinted many sweet conversations into my thoughts
She placed the goggles of love over my eyes
She is a princess of Akkadian kingdom...the one who raised desires in me
Decking me in her pearl necklace...she adorned her neck
Categories:
decking, abortion, angel, appreciation, autumn,
Form:
Lyric
The Old Pier (a picture poem)
beneath the boundary layer of air and sea
twirling vortexes of frenzied waters
incessantly corrode
the aging pillars below
the ravaged tired timbers emit
anguished unholy screeching sounds
as ocean swirls beat non stop in and about
worn out planks attached beneath
the weathered decking
the riddled concrete sideling emerges
perplexed and whistles out its
protestations in echoes heard
across the raging tide.
in the bottoms underflow snail infested
warped planks buffer incursions of countless
schools of rabid predators that attack,
conquer, and devour unsuspecting aquatic prey.
above fishermen pray to the sea gods
to hook their water worn lines and capture
in songs of surrender the call of
a waiting bucket.
in timed release, ancient messages splash upon
silicon sharpened shores that resonate the sounds
of strident hungry seagulls
rummaging for their next meal.
wave upon wave of scattered foam wash over
brash crayoned streaks of blue and green hews
that seem to melt across and blend into
a continuous pallet of assorted colors.
at the same time the formidable forces
of untamed waters compete
in their final rush to win
the race to land's end.
C.A.K. 2-21-2013
Categories:
decking, beach, environment, image, imagination,
Form:
Blank verse
Hearing the jingling bells of Santa's sleigh,
Hanging silver tinsel on the tree for trim,
My cousin and I going sledding all day,
Reading the story of Scrooge and Tiny Tim.
Building a house made of spicy gingerbread,
And hearing a Bing Crosby Christmas tune,
Leaving out cookies before going to bed,
Seeing eight tiny reindeer flying by the moon.
Santa Claus bringing toys down our chimney,
Almost every house twinkling with lights,
Cutting down a fresh, pine Christmas tree,
Hanging antique ornaments, so shiny and bright.
Grandma and I baking my favorite cookies,
Shopping for Christmas gifts in every store,
A fireplace with a stocking hung just for me,
And singing Christmas carols at every door.
My hometown covered in glistening, white snow,
And the sweet, minty taste of a candy cane,
Presents containing treasures we wouldn't know,
And drawing snowflakes on a frosty window pane.
My Mom making a snowman, as perfect as can be,
Decking the halls with garlands, wreaths and more,
Whispering wishes to Santa, sitting on his knee,
And the excitement we all had the night before.
December 12th, 2013
Categories:
decking, christmas, fun, memory, nostalgia,
Form:
Quatrain
My dog eats tinsel,
It drives me round the bend,
It’s certainly not pleasant,
Coming out the other end.
I’ve heard about farting fairy dust,
But tinsel turds are a joke,
Clearing up after him,
Makes me want to choke.
At least I can find them,
Under the moonlight,
Just like a beacon,
Shining in the night.
There’s gold and silver ones,
Red, green and blue,
Who’s ever heard of,
A dog with tinsel poo?
I’m just glad he sticks to tinsel,
But now I can’t have a tree,
He’d probably think it was his own,
Inside place to pee.
I’ve given up on decorations,
Also, decking the halls,
I just hope he doesn’t attack Santa,
When he comes to call.
So, I’ll give him some turkey,
No sprouts though I’ll do my part,
Tinsel turds are rough enough,
I don’t need to hear him fart.
Categories:
decking, christmas, fun, funny, hilarious,
Form:
Rhyme
Risen from the ashes of a time gone by...
Out of the 1900's and brought back into the present,
recreation of a simple, peaceful time of moments past.
The grand entrance with its pebble stone drive ways,
circular,
flower trimmed with springs and the newest guest arrivals.
Long walking porches out of New Orleans line each floor,
three high.
Soft strolling decking, leading to the stairs down to the lush lawns of rolling greens below,
darting in and out from behind each other,
in the defilade of the landscape.
People walking the trails around the property,
Bocce ball, lawn darts, kids running with kites.
Fire pits lit are at night,
burning red oak
Chocolate Smore's dripping over the open fire
mixing into a smoke tinged aphrodisiac as blankets are drinks are passed around like camp fire stories.
Natural springs lead to the pools of clear water,
mist punctuates the air,
the intake...
walking around this past, while here...Now....Present
What a gift it is...
Bedford Spring's
Categories:
decking, beauty, family, friendship, history,
Form:
Deck The Halls
*
****
*
On
Christmas
carols echoed in the hall
Merriment and celebratory mood
put us all in swinging gaiety with the singers
We sang with the choristers at the midnight mass with
clanging cymbals
Past sorrows were shut out
Our neighbourers exuberant faces
warmed our blood by forgiving and forgetting
the spears and barbs of the dead days as bygone stories
Zealously we were
spreading happiness of sharing
in the lonely world of the less fortunate
by becoming the forerunners of our benevolent Santa Claus
making a toy land of the homeless and joy land of our parched souls
We at sixteen each
held lit candles
decking our lives
with unfortunate
Carols and candles
chorused unknown
into the unknown
Contest : Christmas Carols- Deck The Hall
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
December 15, 2015
Categories:
decking, caregiving, celebration, childhood, christmas,
Form:
Concrete
When duskfall glints across a lustrous arc
Deepening the green of our Yuletide pine;
My eyes capture this eternal wonder
As a ladder of bulbs surrounds the pole:
Joyful these hours , graced by a ritual
Every late October , Dad’s tradition
And I , an eve- daughter am still beguiled
By such gaiety so markedly engraved,
Adorning bright twigs with vintage décor--
Then a candle is passed , our wishes shared
While Dad tucks an angel crownng the top
Till Mom gathers us for sugarplum fare!.
Though older now this gift of ardor lives on
My family decking the Christmas tree,
Same time of the year, late October:
I hang gold baubles knowing that a presence
Lights among the sprigs, the winding branches…
For Mom and Dad are felt in this moment
By the glitter of pine, candles aflame,
A tree magic eclipsing all my seasons.
Christmas Tree Contest of Shadow Hamilton
12/13/2017
Categories:
decking, memory, tree,
Form:
Light Verse
I don't know about Archbishop Justin Timberlake,
He’s jazzing up the church,
Making Jesus controversial,
Leaving life in the lurch.
It’s fine to have excitement,
About any religious thing or assumption,
But when you poke at liberal creeds,
You’re with the discontentment presumption.
The liturgy does not gel with Sankey hymns,
Which parishioners should not be made to sing;
Fundamentalism is on the way out,
Of Christianity’s credibility wing.
It is emotionally abusive,
To atheistic in-house kids who want to aspire,
To tell of the insanities,
Such tunnel vision requires.
Although I am glad of his enthronement -
It lets evangelicalism out the bag,
I hope to return to a more liberal clergyman,
For the future church ‘mag’.
Fundamentalists won’t admit to the speeches,
Given to their kids who are silent prey;
It’s not fair to live in a society,
Which allows only the understood to convey.
Pluralism is the glasses by which we all see,
Humanism, atheism, religion, and irreligion too,
And the Archbishop is therefore acceptable,
As a beacon of what fundamentalists do.
Freedom of speech and expression,
For some, will only come when we know such acts,
Societal change comes simply from people,
Who’s concepts and ideas become assumed facts.
He was not that successful at decking Wonga,
Anglicans can't quite compete,
With open market transactions,
Which have seemed to withstand the heat.
I don't validate high-interest lenders,
But the church should stick to God,
It should be more into caring,
For the elderly, all on their tod.
About the Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby, UK
Categories:
decking, faith, humor, humorous, religion,
Form:
Rhyme
`
Ricardo liked decking the halls
His ornaments covered the walls
But ceilings too high
He passed them right by
For those he did not have the balls
11/21/19
Written for: The Holiday Themed Limerick Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Categories:
decking, fun, holiday,
Form:
Limerick
One Christmas whilst decking the halls
My hubby passed out after malls
I heard a loud screech
He jumped out of reach
Cried, “Dear, they were not Christmas balls!”
November 29, 2018
Categories:
decking, christmas, funny, holiday, humor,
Form:
Limerick