Best Dewy Eyed Poems
The Fox 1
Crab holes on the bank….
Furry trap inserted in ,
Wonder blunder ends.
The Fox 2
Thick bushes distant….
Fox nose moves among the twigs to
Get a prey vanquished.
The Fox 3
The fox howls at night….
Trumpet of win over
A dewy-eyed rabbit.
The Wolf 1
Lamb in the pasture….
From the darkness of forest
Death jumps upon fast.
The Wolf 2
Wood smiles in full moon….
Wolf eyes glare among foliage,
Savage beauty lures.
The Wolf 3
Marauding wolf steps….
The soul dances wildly, and
Brute taste oozes out.
The Coyote 1
The distant coyote….
Pointed ears and sharp claws are
Coming to the end.
The Coyote 2
The coyote walks alone….
Seclusion of the woods, but
Evaded though followed.
The Coyote 3
Night howl pierces spring….
Ecstatic movements on hush,
The coyote mounts high.
(For ‘My Inner Animal Contest’ by P. D.)
FABIYAS M V
Categories:
dewy eyed, animals
Form:
Haiku
the catholic nurse
all sensitive
caring noticing
everything
what can she think
of my hot/cold torment
always near blowing it
living in the fast lane
so friendly kind
the girls
dewy eyed
wanda abandoned me
bolton is in my hands
and yet my coldness
hurts
the more emotional
they stay
trying to find a reason
for my ice-like suspicion
fish eyes
coldly indifferent eyes
suspect everything that moves
socialising just to be loud
compensate for cold
lack of essential trust
warmth
i love them
despite myself
my desire to love
is unconscious and gigantesque
i never know
when i'm going to miss someone
strange coldness perplexing
i've got to work to get devotion
but once i get it
i really get people on my side
there are my people
who can survive
my shark-like coldness
and there are those
who want something
more personal
i can be very devoted to those
who can stay the course
my soul is aching
for an impartial love of people
i'm at war with myself.
("Strange Coldness Perplexing" was forged using notes scrawled onto seven sides of an ancient now coverless notebook sometime in the late 1980s, or early '90s).
Categories:
dewy eyed, care, conflict, cool, england,
Form:
Free verse
Mommy and I are watching out the window at the farmer and his girl.
She is darling, with the strong legs of a runner and a birthing behind.
See that hair beneath her bonnet, Mom whispers. It’s a swivel of a curl.
She has a short face if you ask me, but perhaps this is not very kind.
She cannot have four legs, or a pretty mane like yours, Mr. VompliGent.
She loves horses and her heart is soft. But she is not ugly in any way
Not sure why I got my name, at this point I suppose it’s a compliment.
Our farmer is acting silly too now, chasing her around, his mouth a bray.
Why do they wear all those things on their body? I ask in confusion.
Glad we can run naked and free, not impeded or held back by anything.
I do not know she admits. It would not be comfortable for any fusion.
The giggling and carrying on out there help our hearts to sing.
Farmer has never been this intrigued by a filly before the one at our gates.
We watch them cavort, and see his smile lighting up the pasture true.
I think they will probably be living in the house together soon, Mom states.
In almost no time they bring their young one out to see us, dressed in blue.
We snort and smirk and laugh with our large brown eyes, smiling happily.
They are a cute two-legged couple, and we are glad for them and their babe.
What do you think Mr. VompliGent, farmer asks dewy eyed and sappily.
I think I would rather have a different name, less pretentious, maybe Gabe.
Categories:
dewy eyed, animal,
Form:
Rhyme
My treasure chest is slowly filling up
Silly letters I wrote to my friends
Not passed on to them,
Thinking, they know what they mean to me
Maybe I should have, maybe I still will.
First love letter from a lad in school
Saying my eyes attracted him
My smile and my sense of humour
For the life of me his name escapes me.
Love is so fickle when your young.
Sweet wrapper, cinema tickets,
Tickets to the zoo, I loved that orang utan
Boris was his name. He has since died.
Photos by the dozen, family, friends,
Places I have visited, a small poem describing each place.
My first and last love's photos, letters, memories.
Words written down just in case my memory fails.
Memories of my university days, written down to remember
Graduation as a staff nurse, photos with an enormous smile on my face
Proudly wearing my uniform.
Nowadays, its poetry I put in my treasure chest
my words are where my life is portrayed
One day I will be dewy-eyed in love again
One day I will be a mother, then my treasure chest will be closed
Will have living memories to look at, my life will be fulfilled
Treasure chest - somewhere we store important phases of our lives
Categories:
dewy eyed, friendship, life, memory,
Form:
Verse
When I was dewy-eyed I dreamt of love,
of a kind of love fit for a virgin
for whom romance betrays no vice or sin--
or for God to curse and speak evil of.
But I, rebuked and reviled as from above
by Providence, lost as Misfortunes won;
Having quit all hope for love's boon, I spun
myself astray on the wings of Lust's dove
into the rough lap of a subtle whore,
a strumpet to whom I gave my purity
who mocked me and then grinned with the three-score
more she's had,--I howled, "What cruel irony!"
But so long as life, breath and hope abide,
love will come; and when it comes--it'll provide!
Categories:
dewy eyed, hope, irony, life, loss,
Form:
Sonnet
When I was dewy-eyed I longed for sex,
a kind of sex fit for a male virgin
who lusts for the head of a fair maiden
regardless of what may then transpire next;
but my quest for this sex became a hex
and so I bedded a rough whore in sin
instead and succumbed to the act often
like a sex-starved satyr or male T. rex!
“O God, wherefore have I spoiled my body!?”
I pined and now rued the loss of purity
and was aware of lapse from the inside
and the lessons of this true irony.
But so long as breath, life and God abide;
Redemption saves despite that I have died.
Categories:
dewy eyed, innocence, irony, lust, sin,
Form:
Sonnet
Big Rabbit Sonnet
Giant rabbits are not cute as you think when they
are in a group then they sneer at us and make funny
noises aping human speech, they live in the forest
across the road and frightens hunting dogs.
The small village where I live is almost empty people
have either died or moved to old folks home where
they live three people in each room and get beans and
lard to eat the home`s owner lives on imported caviar.
The huge rabbits wanted to take the village over crossed
the road and in the village square fought a battle with rats
that claimed the place belonged them by ancient rights.
A woman came out of one of a house kicked a rat lifted up
a rabbit and the rest went dewy-eyed, the cuddly had won
over the ugly, rabbits are edible rats not so much.
Categories:
dewy eyed, absence, age, analogy, anniversary,
Form:
Sonnet
A distinguished pair of spectacles, selfless and serene, doze snuggly atop a
Proud bureau of drawers.
A placid fireplace yawns and winks
As giggling embers tango on tiptoes with
Lilliputian logs,
haughtily cackling a cacaphonous tune.
Outside a stoic mist galumphs betwixt gregarious
shrubs and egotistical stars
Dewy eyed and squinting, windows, aching and arched, peep out--
Out to the blaring beams from a crochety moon.
A pensive pair of spectacles ruminates on sights
Carefully seen--
Of frugal birds and courteous walkways
And terraces splendid and keen
Now a scent of myrrh caresses the room
A pillow of mist blushing, blows kisses to
A muzzy moon
Categories:
dewy eyed, imagination,
Form:
Light Verse
A man sits on a train
Waiting or at least hoping for an e-mail
He stares at the laptop that sits atop his lap
With unwavering concentration
As the train pulls out of the city
The morning sky is shot with scarlet shards
On aquamarine
The countryside flies by
In beauteous early summer shades
Pigeons and foxes
And sleepy thatched hamlets
After a while the train slows
And through the picket fences beyond platform A
The man’s childhood friends can be seen
Jumping from swings and on to the roundabout
Joyous in holiday freedom
If only he could avert his eyes
And then gone
On through mill town
O’er tall gothic bridges
Steeples and black glass tower blocks
To red brick leafy suburbs
Corner pubs and smoking chimneys
Faded metal hoardings and avenues prim
Further down the line
The train slows again
And on the green wood bench across the tracks
Sits the woman loved and lost
Alone and smiling sweet as honey
Eyes closed in warm meditation
Just a call away
But the man remains silent
Transfixed and determined
The train meanders through mountains of grandeur
Past star sparkle rivers and fairytale forests
Shoreline, glen and tunnels of steam
That all remain unseen
When the train slows again
The man’s mother looks out through the waiting room window
A pale and all loving dewy eyed angel
Who waves in sweet resignation
At her son who sits on the train
Evening bows to night as the train rumbles on
Streetlight reflected on the shower fresh streets
The moon makes silhouette of distant woods and cooling towers
‘til dark clouds extinguish it’s gaze
Eventually the train grinds towards its halt
And as it does
Suddenly
There in the inbox
– Ping!
Double clicked his eyes eagerly scan the message
Which simply reads
“you have reached your destination”
Categories:
dewy eyed, analogy, anxiety, computer, journey,
Form:
Free verse
Silver stars are dancing—
Oh, the night is for romancing!
Lovers, fate are chancing
and from eye to lip are glancing,
hoping for a taste,
and the blood begins to race.
The water soft is gushing
on Night’s shores, quietly rushing.
Lovers’ cheeks are blushing,
their faces close are flushing,
locked in a gaze,
eyes begin to blaze.
The moon is brightly shining
on fingers intertwining.
Lovers inhibitions are resigning,
on mossy banks reclining,
possessed of a day,
Eros’s dewy-eyed prey.
The perfumed breeze is blowing,
the red blood quick is flowing.
Lovers’ gentle aspects glowing,
and time seems to be slowing.
Unknowingly afraid
to let the feeling fade.
Categories:
dewy eyed, passion,
Form:
Ballade
on the reference of a
friend who used to be
close, s/he asks the cartomancer
to come to the house---
as this is not a privilege
often granted to those whose cards
are to be read (so the “reader”
claims), extra funds are required
to lure her in &
the sap in question feels that the
frustrations of his/her life have led
them to this place
of concentrated desperation &
loneliness,
are grounds enough to shell out
the moola, to roll out the red carpet
if necessary, in order to
provide the best atmosphere for the
“reader,” whose life has been
based on “interpreting the
tarot.”
offering the tea of her choice &
brewing it whilst they both sit down,
the woman’s stereotypical garb
woos the sap into thinking that this
woman has some kind of ancient
presence & the power of the
mythical washes over the sap
like a gentle breeze tickling the
back of her/his neck on a chilly
October afternoon.
after the tea is poured, the cards have
been chosen, the “reader”
does not break eye contact,
proceeding to tell the sap a tale
that could be weaved (and quite
probably has been) for anyone
who asks the reader to come to their
house, who seems so distraught &
alone, who evidently has come to
a major turning point in her life,
weighs upon every word that
the “reader” spits at them.
dewy eyed with brand new hope,
more horrible than the loneliness
that led them to this charlatan,
the sap sees her to the door,
constantly thanking her for the
things that s/he heard which s/he
liked, like a mouse sticking its
head into the trap right before it
sets it off, licking its lips &
thinking that it found the peanut
butter all on its own &
oh how lucky it is
to have this feast lie before it.
Categories:
dewy eyed, life, life,
Form:
Free verse
Silence suckles sin
at dewy-eyed mother's breast.
Shame shatters love's hopes.
Categories:
dewy eyed, anxiety, child abuse, christian,
Form:
Bio
Humble as a teardrop,
Dewy eyed and singing
Believing in the fulfillment
Found in listening
To the rain, the pain never
Erasing what is – what is
Like yesterday’s goodbye,
Faded beyond the sky
Where faith tumbles in breathless
Whispers, miracles
Inventions of the inspiration
Grown by hope, faith
Amazing like His grace
Never fading, always obeying
Endlessly praying – endlessly
Praising!
Categories:
dewy eyed, appreciation, christian, faith, hope,
Form:
Free verse
the first step’s the sweetest
the ladder steady
not splintered
no thought
of the problems up at the top.
the foot is giddy
impish, tapping
with dewy-eyed toes.
under a frolicsome smile,
an ankle circles in mid-air,
daring the stare of his mother
as she cleaves to nine feet below.
4/23/2019
The Smile at the Foot of a Ladder Poetry Contest
Craig Cornish - Sponsor
Categories:
dewy eyed, courage, humanity, mother son,
Form:
Free verse
My Twin
I have a twin brother who was never born to a great life
He waits till I sleep, ten appears watching a re-run of
“House on the prairie” makes him dewy-eyed, cries
at dawn, I have to blow my nose to get rid of his tears
What expect of a man who is forever thirty-five and
and didn’t have to struggle for a living.
Lately, he has taken to talk, my wife gets angry, wakes
me, like, it should be my fault, says I’m cynical that
I have lost faith in humanity; I tell him when I die, he
will die too.
He scoffs and says, “I can’t die because he never lived
I will rest among stars while you decompose in a grave.”
Categories:
dewy eyed, absence, birth, creation,
Form:
Blank verse