Best Drooped Poems
Upon my tiptoes, I gaze through a window, the window of my mind.
I pull back the curtain, peer from a partially drawn blind.
Before me lay this youthful beauty, perfection in every line,
And standing there beside her was the old keeper of all time.
He swiftly knelt beside her, and stroked her heaving chest,
Carefully caressed every curve, and sagged her gentle breast.
He cast his spell upon her, aging her as if fine wine.
Left some thoughtful wrinkles, added character in each and every line.
Bestowed upon her all that wisdom, more than she had ever known before.
Brought her many pleasures, also heartaches, several score.
Held her tightly about the waist, now broader at the beam.
Added some weight here and there, not as much as it might seem.
He gradually drooped her shoulders; shiny hair now turns to gray.
Faded memories of life's passing parade now help to pass her day.
Her youthful pace is throttle now, her feet shuffle slowly across the floor.
Though still a thing of beauty, that beauty is different than before.
Time for her is now slipping away, slowly heading for life’s stage door.
The journey has left her exhausted, no longer willing to fight the fight, but unwilling to beg for more.
Time had been an exciting lover, but she will not love another day.
She lies prone upon the sheet as Time exits the stage. I watch with amazement as the scene just fades away.
TEDDY AND I
Teddy is my childhood cuddly toy,
Who brought me a lifetime of joy,
He listened to all my baby cries,
Biding his time to reveal
His surprise!
I sucked on his ear,
Had a regular chew,
Whilst I spoke to him in
Gobbly goo!
One day I dropped him,
Ouch, he cried,
Don’t do that again
If you do not mind!
When he spoke I got such a fright,
I screamed with all my might
I was two,
Teddy too!
But intrigued, so poked him here,
And there,
Hey Teddy said, that tickles,
Which gave me
Unstoppable giggles!
We decided no one must know,
Hush he said, not to a soul!
Teddy as he grew older, look bruised
And battered, for which
He was well excused.
He’d lost his one eye so he
Couldn’t well see,
And always stayed,
Very close to me.
His arms and legs
Had drooped,
If he stayed up too late,
He was pooped.
On my 50th birthday,
He was fifty too,
A life led by teddy,
Perhaps lived by few,
He had been loved all
Of his life so much,
But his fluff has now become
Less, due to every hug, and
Cuddly clutch!
He’s still with us up to this day,
But is grumpy and will glare,
Jealous of hubby, a stare
Out, between human and bear!
Each day another velvet petal fell
Like somber tears from weeping eyes
A perfect flower was severed to quell
It lay withering as it drooped and died
Perfect flower, from bud to bloom
Sweet-scented rose, it was no wonder
That stifled in that sepulcher room
You were enshrined, awaiting plunder
Sadness lingers in me over your demise
Withered petals are always a cause for pain
But I'll remember you without tears in my eyes
The memory of your fragrance shall remain
Brave is the rose caught in November’s thorn
While she endures nights of chill and snow,
Awaiting gold daylight's warmth to bestow---
And liven her frame…her mouth drooped, forlorn.
Gently, new moon peeps into kohl of eve
While its luster reflects on this bud , soft
Like a pubescent ovule held aloft
By elms guarding her round shape NOT to cleave.
Though one kind-hearted owl perches nearby
Mutely disapproving this ghastly tread…
An obscure fog sprays crystals overhead
Instead, wings lock against nip of the sky.
How unwavering…in her innocence
Morning rises, its lucent gleam so young
That frozen dusk pales with wheezes unsung…
Oh, grit of a rose saved by providence!
Written 9/10/2018
Contest of Broken Dream
Enclosed Rhyme - September, 2018
After our not so delicious meal, we started home
He turned onto our usual well-worn road
Headed west where we bumped across raised railroad tracks
There at the octagon shaped stop sign turned northwest
Feeling sated and situated on the road home
Home where the old weak heart resides
Home where comfy cotton clothes are worn
Home where feet are adorned with thong sandals
It is at least forty-five minute drive
Through rural Georgia with flourishing farmland
Verdant pastures next to many neat old homeplaces
Ones we see at least three times a month
Today something different caught our old tired eyes
A golden-yellow field but also a deep, pine green
Both of these old people wondered aloud
What is that growing over there?
With each passing second, we drew closer
Our old eyes began to grasp the beauty
The grace, symmetry of this four acre field
It was sunflowers, glorious sunflowers
I told my husband to turn onto the closer county road
Go onto a road less traveled by us and many
On that country road not well-traveled
Stood sunflowers, somewhat drooped on a cloudy day
However, that is not all of the story
I don't know if I have free versed enough
Should I go on?
Maybe save the rest for another day?
A Dream
I patiently waited for you all the day long, my beloved.
Even the tired, orange, afternoon sun long ago drifted off to sleep.
Nighttime arrived in a hurry shoving away the short-lived evening,
with rhinestone stars dotting a shimmering, dark, velvet sky,
and a pale, silver moon shyly venturing on the horizon.
After the lamps were all lit, I struggled to stay awake,
but my heavy eyelids drooped as I was weary from the long day.
So forgive me, my lord, as I unwittingly succumbed
to the potent spell of the Sandman’s magical dust;
and sly Morpheus sneakily captured me in his soothing embrace.
Come share with me this dream of tranquil enchantment,
in a watercolor field of delicately perfumed lavender and clover.
And I in peaceful repose await your arrival, my lord,
to gently awaken me with tender kisses, sweet as nectar.
I look for you, my dearest love, in a dream!
05-25-2014
Contest: A Dream
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Placement: 3rd
When in bondage your spirit flies
Your voice a distant, bleeding dove
On the table of my heart lies
The silent shadow of drooped love
The earth moaned
under the heat. On the porch
wicks drowned in melted
citronella candles
under limp wind chimes.
Withered vegetation drooped.
Finally –
a grey morning mist
gently
moistened cracked soil. The parched land
lifted
its head,
listened
as the wind chimes began to dance.
The thunderclap
announced the resurrection;
the downpour
was redemption.
August 27, 2018
For contest: Wind chimes
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
"La forêt interdite"
In my soul
there You,
The Flame,
spend the
better part of my
night and day
playing your
naked mind
o’er my heart
The Shrew
a wilding to
be tamed, a
coaxing coquette,
bids come
now,
pluck my
Golden Chord
Insolent
I lay spread
before you
an alter
set to
bow your head
to kiss
the place of
wanton worship
between
the pages
of my
unfurling
forbidden
Lilith
Forest
Blushing
Blooms of
Jade and
Blue
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
"La lune contrôle les marées et vous contrôlez mon coeur"
"Amour qui déplace le soleil et les autres étoiles"
" Le Baiser " / Jean-Louis Murat
https://youtu.be/1QMI2DPgtbM
“As flowerlets drooped and puckered in the night
turn up to the returning sun
and spread their petals wide
on his new warmth and light -
just so my wilted spirits rose again
and such a heat of zeal
surged through my veins
that I was born anew.”
“I care not where my body may take me,
as long as my soul
is embarked
on a meaningful journey”
“Come follow me, and leave the world to its babblings.”
1. Lyrics: Le Baier
https://www.flashlyrics.com/lyrics/jean-louis-murat/le-baiser-84
Each day another velvet petal fell
Like somber tears from weeping eyes
A perfect flower was severed to quell
It lay withering as it drooped and died
Perfect flower, from bud to bloom
Sweet-scented rose, it was no wonder
That stifled in that sepulcher room
You were enshrined, awaiting plunder
Sadness lingers in me over your demise
Withered petals are always a cause for pain
But I'll remember you without tears in my eyes
The memory of your fragrance shall remain
~ Reposted from 2015 ~
"What do you see in this old tree?"
"A lot of crookedness", I said,
"The limbs are drooped and dreary,
Its leaves are mostly dead,
It looks sad and weary..."
"There's a special kind of dread."
"Sap is leaking out the trunk,
It's oozing down the sides
A glaring hollow in this hunk,
Where darkness now abides."
"The woodsman shakes his head,
And leaves this tree to die.
There's better wood ahead,
And all should pass it by."
"Man has such a hollow,
Between his dreams and Death,
Sheol's set to swallow,
At the final, dying breath."
"What's to be done!", I cried,
"Dealing with what Death means?
I, too, am hollow inside,
Can I be evergreen?"
"Believe the best about Me,
My Owl will fill your hollow,
Death may come tomorrow,
But new life soon after follows."
"My Owl sees all within you,
And strengthens all that's best,
He'll fly you to our rendezvous,
And, I'll bless you with My rest."
"What do I see in this old tree?"
"His Owl is in my hollow,
And hope has been set free,
He has chosen me to follow,
And share His future glory..."
"There's a special kind of happy."
The summer sun sucked the simmering sky desert dry,
clumps of grey cloud spawned by the moist horizon,
torn in thwarted winds of failed storm they tried to fly.
The clusters desiccated except for a pained lone one.
In the course of scorched and sad sail it could save
for the aborted summer storm a swelling tear drop.
The squall decimated and seared in the heat wave,
the molten grief dripped morphing into a raindrop.
At the edge of the wasteland a solitary tree grieved,
the parched foliage drooped, rains didn’t hear its call.
Still holding hope on the slim stem an upright leave
found on its wilted and sapless face a raindrop fall.
In the summer sky the adrift and saddened lone cloud
didn’t whimper as under the sun it felt its future burn
for quenching the thirst of a dying leaf it was proud.
Waned life saw in tear raindrop emerald dream return.
November 18, 2018
How thrilled was I, the strings in my heart trembled,
when a note floated to me
in the wind, and drenched me with a fragrance
I remembered from many years ago…
many years ago, when a soft soothing melody
along with the aroma of love drowned me
in ecstasy!
This is the note I was waiting for...
from the memories of my past, my tender dreams
which murmured like a river flowing
to meet its end in the ocean.
flowers which bloomed,
but the quivering petals slowly drooped,
never shone in its full splendour!
A Note,
carried by the playful Spring wind…brought me a
message, whispered in my ears ...
Love waits.
October 26, 2022
"A Note In The Wind" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Charles Messina
Lonely, watching the hours passing by
I find myself wondering why
Everything could be as it was before
When I chased for the other door
My first love that I tried to regain
First time that I learned to fight
My first cold from playing in the rain
And the first fear from the night
When a kiss was just a miss
And there were no moments to be pleased
From the sand, a wall was made
And everything went the same
But now it is gone
And I can’t knock at the other door
Heaven cries as I am just one
And if in my hands weren’t strong
I would live no more
My first smile with a loose of a gain
First time that I had my own bright
My first tear that I drooped in vain
And the first game from a knight
My memories go faster than the light
Caught them in the mystery
I am alive to restart from one sight
To be richer in the misery
But now it is gone
And I can’t knock at the other door
Heaven cries as I am just one
And if in my hands weren’t strong
I would live no more
Do I really have to go this way?
Why do we need to pray?
Part of me dies every single day
With nothing else to say
My first look at the sky
First time that I enjoyed breathing
My first friend without asking why
And the first moment that I was living
“The colorful collage of nature’s marvels makes
a tapestry of vibrant delight”. Quote by Poet
The clumps of climbing cotton clouds float away,
brush the azure of the ashen summer sky.
The returning birds bathe in the blue bay,
in the amber twilight to the auburn nest they fly,
as autumn arrives with chromatic charisma on the sly.
In the lucent sunburst sky the golden horizon
splits the surreal sunbeam in spectrum of radiant rays,
the sparkle of hues from its palette colors the dawn.
Drooped down slender blades of fawn grass sway
in crisp air on the lap of meadow turning green from gray.
The pasture wears the crafted crown of topaz dew,
flickers with pearly flair of dawn’s chalcedony glow.
Lining the sun-splashed cinnabar garden path paved anew,
dry trunks of the sepia trees stand on the sienna soil fallow,
the crimson leaves rustle with autumn’s footfall slow.
The scarlet sunset sets fire in the fading satin sky,
makes a mesmeric collage of vermillion ember bright.
Soaking its cherry radiance I wait with spirit rising high
to greet the sapphire stars sprouting in pellucid autumn night,
draped by cerulean moondust I’m suffused with colorful delight.