Best Drafty Poems
My dearest love who makes me whole
Fills drafty places in my soul
Where grief and sorrow left a hole
Your loving ladle fills my bowl
Each loving touch removes a trace
of painful scars that mark a place
where hateful love seared every space
Sad, broken life and battered face
Your love a rare and precious pearl
New hope and joy we will unfurl
Forever blessed, my heart's a whirl
Transcends all pain poured on this girl
.
Poetry contest: Soulidified
Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker
Categories:
drafty, beautiful, blessing, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Cornflakes with honey and chilled little feet
from drafty morning windows and cool tile floors
sits next to her grandfather to listen
as he tells stories from his days in the war.
She watches him lift his ceramic brown mug
with steam like silhouette hands reaching his face
the black brew smells of warm summer soil
so she leans over and asks for a taste.
"This drink is for the adults, dear, you're much too young,
the flavour is too bitter and strong for your tongue."
The aroma mixes with newspaper and aftershave
she stares at the mug's water black and mysterious
then rests her little head on his sweater to watch
as he marks letters in the crossword with eyes so serious.
Memories of breakfast together are never lost
feeling safe and calm and completely at peace
they live in every sip of her morning coffee
with cornflakes, crosswords and chilled little feet.
Categories:
drafty, childhood, family, morning,
Form:
Free verse
Winter's Perfect Heat
“Snowflakes gather in crystalline drfitings”
Lifting your hair, kissing the nape of your neck
Warm flesh waits on tippy toe desires
Lips brush skin, lower beyond silver chain clasp
Sighs slip past moon shadow echoes
“Frost bitten warnings fuel whistling winds”
Candlelight flickers in illumined frenzy
Strong hands caress velvet curves, moving
Satin petals excite at the touch, firming
Mouths meet across milky shoulders
“Chilly coatings mingle, drafty windows squeal”
Reaching behind delicate fingers guide, slowly
Passion emanates from quivered partings
Honey drippings moisten, sticky, sweet
Whispered moans tantalize, moments ignite
“Wind chimes sing frantically behind icicle curtains”
Down pillow yearnings, grasped, held
Eyes look back, smiles meet motions
Held closer, breathless exhales on dreams exposed
Deeper finds the pristine moment
“Algid gusts wail through frigid echoed alleyways”
Names loudly called, enchanted nirvana
Faster still, bodies in charged friction
Two become one, senses explode, flooding oasis
Eruptions quake bodies in perspired heap
“Arctic blast pierces sweltering pleasures”
Ecstasy sings in midnight harmonies
Melodic as the polar pulsations beyond
Numbed in devotion’s destinations
Wondrous snowy white blankets chill the world
“As our love provides winter’s perfect heat”
Good night Soupers
Categories:
drafty, good night, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
Living in a house very old,
it was always drafty and cold.
Metal stairs to the basement lead,
from an old pirate's ship they said.
Was this story really told?
On the ship many were sick~dead,
did they all walk the plank in red.
Those metal steps brought real fear,
a bottomless pit was so near.
Dark and dusty I must now head.
The washer~dryer were in here,
clean clothes I needed to appear.
I headed for the metal stairs,
a voice was calling in the airs.
Where are you now going my dear?
Date Written:6/9/2022
HowManySyllables.com and RhymeZone
Categories:
drafty, clothes, fear, mystery, old,
Form:
Quintilla
Winter’s Passion’d Heat
“Snowflakes gather in crystalline drfitings”
Lifting your hair, kissing the nape of your neck
Warm flesh waits on tippy toe desires
Lips brush skin, lower beyond silver chain clasp
Sighs slip past moon shadow echoes
“Frost bitten warnings fuel whistling winds”
Candlelight flickers in illumined frenzy
Strong hands caress velvet curves, moving
Satin skin excites at the touch, shivering
Mouths meet across milky shoulders
“Frost coatings mingle, drafty windows squeal”
Reaching delicate fingers, soothing touches
Passion emanates from quivered partings
Honey drippings moisten, sweet syrup yearnings
Whispered moans tantalize, moments ignite
“Wind chimes sing frantically behind icicle curtains”
Down pillow yearnings, grasped, held
Eyes look back, smiles meet motions
Held closer, breathless exhales on dreams exposed
Deeper finds the pristine moment
“Algid gusts wail through frigid echoed alleyways”
My name, loudly sung, enchanted nirvana
Faster still, bodies in charged friction
Two become one, senses explode, flooding oasis
Eruptions quake bodies in perspired heap
“Arctic blast pierces sweltering pleasures”
Ecstasy sings in midnight harmonies
Melodic as the polar pulsations beyond
Numbed in devotion’s destinations
Wondrous snowy white blankets chill the world
“As our love provides winter’s passione’d heat”
Good night soupers.
Categories:
drafty, love, sensual, winter,
Form:
Free verse
___ ~~ ___
home for me is in an
old building
that is quite drafty
with floors crooked
but it has huge rooms
that one seldom gets these days
oh, all the windows stick
but have flower window boxes
and there are some strange creaks
and groans in the quiet of night
still, I love my apartment
in this old building
for it is full of character
and I call it home
______________________
March 25, 2021
Poetry/Verse/this old building
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1341-547-25
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, All Yours (Mar 26)
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 03/26/2021
Categories:
drafty, home,
Form:
Verse
Within my mind are dusty cobwebs
where drafty breathings edge the corners of remembering
as they hold in a picture stilled that looms,
unchanged but not for lack of a broom;
school books, pads and pens, and bookbag piled high,
uniform dress, blouse, and blazer on the bedroom floor,
shoes plopped in the corner still untied behind the door
covers tossed on an unmade bed, pillow puffed against the frame,
a waking dog with ears alert and a wagging tail ingrained;
I can easily dust and sweep the memories stored there.
The dim light of an old candescent lampshade bare,
shadows of my grandmother rocking in her chair.
Four o'clock as the cuckoo bows,
chains straining the weights up and down,
a baloney sandwich, a glass of milk, she sits waiting
at the small kitchen table, her rosary praying.
Bouncing in the door, hurried and ready to play around,
the smile rises on her face as she puts her knitting down
and with a hug and kiss, she takes me in her arms
as I struggle hurriedly pulling away from her charms,
anxious to go out and play
as she asks, what did you learn today?
Sit, eat, tell me of your day
and I rushing through every thought I could say,
full mouth jabbering of this one and that at school,
today, I've learned the golden rule,
family and the love they give
are all you ever really need to live.
I wish I could go back for just a moment in time
and relive those wonderful memories sublime
now gone
and pushed in the corridors of my mind.
Categories:
drafty, appreciation, grandmother, memory,
Form:
Rhyme
___ ~~ ___
Victorian, drafty, floors crooked, creaking, windows stick, but full of character.
______________________
October 3, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/My Old House (Ottawa, Ontario, Canada)
Copyright Protected, ID 16-832-262-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Where I live, One Liner
sponsor, Silent One
Third Place
Categories:
drafty, home,
Form:
Free verse
I have a box upon my shelf
Containing precious reminders, of life's wealth
My very first bible, I got when I was nine
The very first book, that was just mine!
A plastic cameo, my mother had
And wore in 1958, when she married my dad
A purple painted rock, made in pre-school
By one of my brothers, because he thought it was cool
A poem my sister wrote about petting a mouse
And memories of growing up in our drafty old house
Coins from foreign places, gifts from "adopted" children, who called me mom
While attending the college where I worked, now they've graduated and gone
A blue visitor's pass, from the ICU
I wore everyday, while God healed my mom, thank YOU...
Stained and crumpled letters, from war zones, afar
Words written there, the most treasured so far
Words, longing for home and things to change
And for another chance, to help rearrange
To convince people to throw out things that mean the least
Making room inside their chest, their hearts, for peace
Now, I have a few things that really shine
And enjoy the bling, wear them from time to time
But they just hang around, here and there
If I didn't have them, I wouldn't care
Before this life of mine is through
I may add to my box another thing or two
But, these treasures I keep upon my shelf
No one would want, except myself....
Donna Jones
8-20-2013
Categories:
drafty, feelings, introspection,
Form:
Couplet
The sea gathered her voice
on the crest of the waves
as dark clouds were herded
by the wind as he raved
in a symphony orchestrated
through elements of sound
composed by the air
from his drafty compound.
By the drum of the surf
on the beat of the waves
a crescendo that climbed
with the sea as she raged
while the wind as the maestro
pulled pockets of sound
from the whistles and moans
as he swept ‘cross the ground.
Soprano! cried the killdeer
Tenor! screeched the gulls
as a baritone foghorn
boomed from the hull
of a ship that swayed
drunkenly atop of the surf
staying clear of the breakers
that crashed on the turf
The ship creaked a response
as it groaned a refrain
but the deft hand of a shipwright
would keep it sustained
for he’d hewn and he’d whittled
great emblems of love
carving an angel for the figurehead
and atop the masthead, a dove.
When the wind stopped his jostling
and the sea spent her ire
the ship slipped back to its haven
of warm hearths and bright fires
where the men mused and wondered
over great tankards of ale
if the hymns and hosannas..
had been but, the wind in the sails?
Categories:
drafty, dedication, faith, imagination, sea,
Form:
Ode
Peek, if you dare…inside my Palace of CREATIVITY
Observe my drafty walls, and rhyming dungeons ^^
Enter, my friends, with no delusions! ^^
There are marbled halls of mass confusion…
Regarding your ILLUSION, of metaphoric INFUSIONs,…
Your opinions may falter, upon the alter, compared to other verses ^^
^^
Poetic attempts, and past regrets, are ghostly curses
And with INEVITABLE blunders, they rattle off meter, the echos could haunt you!
Lest you dare, just beware, dear readers…. WATCH YOUR STEP! ^^
As your guide, I’ll confide….people have died!
'Cause this Poetry Palace, has bats in the belfry! (As everyone knows)…
EVENTUALLY, this palace place should be foreclosed!
For Linda Marie’s Contest “Poetry Palace”
By Carrie Richards
Categories:
drafty, funny, on writing and
Form:
Acrostic
Memorize the fragrance as roses bloom
Daylight slows to unveil a sweet refrain
Fragile, with no escape from a drafty room
By break of day, buds will be in bloom
In love and art, beauty unveils what is sane
Memorize the fragrance as roses bloom
Lush gardenias in china glassware tombs
Beautiful balance that charms us all fain
Fragile, with no escape from a drafty room
Its fragrant breath like many a French perfume
The flowers all compete, the lilacs never plain
Memorize the fragrance as gardenias bloom
Holland daisies will strive by fanning her plumes
Then, notice the orchids that lives quite vane
Fragile, with no escape from a drafty room
In steamy rocks, the tiny ones bloom
Divine, they all never feel any pain
Memorize the fragrance as roses bloom
Fragile...with no escape from a drafty room
Categories:
drafty, peace,
Form:
Villanelle
Once there was a mouse that envied the castle on the hill.
It looked way more glorious than the hovel he lived in.
Every day he dreamed of what life there could truly be.
Dreams of wondrous food, plus beautiful rooms only his mind could see.
Sights from the windows each day, would deeply stir his very soul.
There would be glorious kingly meals, only a great chef could bestow.
There would be a fancy, cozy bed in a room with beauty all around.
But venturing up the hill… that is not even remotely what he found.
All the windows were too high with nothing near to climb upon.
And clouds were always obscuring any view that might be found.
The family was too old with no children to drop crumbs upon the ground.
The furniture was ancient wood with nowhere comfy to hide from their hound.
The spaces were damp and drafty wherein he found to make his bed.
Nothing was anything like what he always dreamed it would be, in his head.
So he finally scurried back to the cottage, that home he’d always deplored.
Strange, the little cottage seemed to shine, and wasn’t a hovel any more.
While he’d been gone it seemed they had missed… giving him his nightly desire.
And they had got together to build a little castle just for him, set by the fire.
Then each night they had left a beloved, yummy piece of popcorn, solely for his lair.
He had been a loved little pampered pet, nothing better could be found elsewhere.
The moral to this story is dreams are only dreams that may not come true.
No matter how green somewhere else seems, always give a warm comfy home it’s due.
Remember it’s a home filled with loving hearts… and not other things…
That will make it… The Perfect Fit for you.
Bestiary: Type of Medieval poetry
Categories:
drafty, allegory, family, happiness, life,
Form:
Couplet
It was a miserable sultry day
Humidity hung like lemons on trees
heavy air filled my lungs
beads of sweat clung to my skin
this heat was difficult to bear
and stifling to try to breathe
I wanted to be relieved and wished
for a cooling summer breeze
I felt a sudden chill later that day
a drafty wind as he walked by
He moved in a brisk pace
but I glimpsed the furrow of his brow
Sweeping winds of change were written
in frosted crystals on his callous face
Without so much as a whisper
the temperature dipped in my heart
If this is how the cool winds blow
I'd prefer the spike of Summer heat
over his glacial attitude and aloof demeaner
From my eyes... fell flakes of Winter snow
I could not read what was in his eyes
They were clouded window panes
I can't even begin to surmise
what brought on the change in him
My lips turned blue as the ill wind blew
until it penetrated my soul
His looks were blocks of ice. He built a wall
I kept climbing it until my pulse grew weak
and then I'd tumble and fall
North winds had a strong hold on him
I couldn't melt his frozen heart
and mine was dying from lack of warmth
I took flight to save my life on a frigid night
: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . :
September 1st, 2017
Categories:
drafty, lost love, sad,
Form:
Free verse
dear Judge
if you were me, would you do what I did
because of the roots of my hair
some shadowy gulf gods got hold of me
and they laughed while they held me
in the howling fjord where my grandfather
once mopped their bathrooms and my father became
himself Satan’s Cheerleader on their fields
till buckets of drafty sentiments took him away
my family has grown like prominent objects
held tight by the fingers of piggy fishy air
and after sad diagnostics they sizzled in volts
drowned in pickling fluids while their children
missed a mother’s love and her beans on Fridays
and forever they now wait to free their laughter
if you were me, would you do what I did
for centuries we’ve walked through a voiceless lawn
enshrouded by whirlwinds surging through nights
have you ever tasted our drafty sentiments for a day
I wish you did to know the burden of agony we carry
in the long sweep of human history
were you not there when certain nostrils prickled on pale
faces and they dug up false Darwinism sentiments at night
then they hoisted innocent frames between envy and hate
between man and beast between darkness and blindness
and the young frames blazed like a bonfire at Easter
if you were me, would you do what I did
honorable judge
why is it that all you know of me is Ben Craig
Categories:
drafty, black african american, courage,
Form:
Blank verse