Best Eave Poems
Above, the shrill of neon lights portend
a promise of new love in garish hues,
but for a broken life yet on the mend
the darkness of the scape brings only views
of solitude when memory accrues
as strangers unimpassioned eyes peruse.
The music wafts from grottoes down below,
blue jazz and candles in a shadowed room,
while up here floodlights cast necrotic glow
as wind gusts and the drops of rain resume.
Cold luminance is all that they exhume
just as my mind expects a rose to bloom.
Your recent death keeps looping in my mind,
no passing faces in the crowd are yours.
I walk the night, imagine you in kind
emerging through the uninviting doors
like Cathy to go dancing on the moors.
I rush beneath an eave as now it pours,
your white reflection standing in the rain,
come back to haunt the neon night again.
1/23/18
Leave me alone you beautified 6itch ;
Oh ghastly and ghoulish playpen of a witch.
Vases of roses are covering your deeds;
Eloquent verses describe your sick needs.
Many come calling but none ever leave;
Even my dumb heart now wants a reprieve.
written 04.02.2016
Winter be but two weeks old and already they lament.
No passion seems as strong as their loudest prayer for spring.
Spring will come when it will and wake the grasses and willow.
Let Natures brief time of slumber last long enough to rest her.
The winter be time for beauty to be found on ice etched panes,
And bayonets of glass, hanging from every eave to be seen.
Winter be found in crystalline air so pure only heroes inhale it.
And footsteps crunch like breaking luttuce upon the snowy ground.
Beyond winter times will speed and rush their way forward.
Spring then Summer and Autumn sprinting to their ultimate ends.
Let winter luff her way on tiny frozen feet while fire warms yours.
Add another log and settle in for a long nap and a dream.
World Comes Alive Spring Is In The Air
Pleasure in the Spring it springs in the air.
Whiff scent of nature's breath upon my cheeks
while buds unfurl into artistry flare.
Grace upon agents to pass golden streaks.
Oh, give us a taste of pleasure flowers;
you bloom pretty on fruit trees to bear fruit,
when the spent sun throws up its ray showers
some laborer of life from hidden root.
A spring garden spears scarlet red tulips.
Which plants short or small leaf and which is bloom?
Angel's trumpet as you hang off eave lips.
Oh, give colour bouquet of sweet perfume.
The world comes alive, Spring is in the air.
A new dress it wears. In awe life does stare.
3/2/2018
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Poetry Contest: Spring Is In The Air
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
On a broad street 'neath spreading sycamores sits a stately dwelling.
Its elegance and surrounding grounds are so very compelling.
Gracious gardens and towering pines enhance its wide expanse,
All girded by a charming, yet sturdy, white iron picket fence.
Gingerbread ornamentation adorns its every eave and gable.
At the rear of the house stands a horse and carriage stable.
In my minds-eye I sit upon its front porch, so very inviting,
To muse upon its past and what made life there so exciting.
I see eloquent ladies and gentlemen arriving for a gala affair,
Happily anticipating the fellowship that awaits them there.
Outside huge flakes of snow waft gently to the earth,
But inside a blazing fire welcomes them to its cozy hearth.
The grandfather clock in the hall intones its sonorous chimes.
For decades it has dwelled there, overseeing happy times.
In the parlor a grand pump organ reposes by yon wall,
If only it could speak, what special memories it might recall!
The house has weathered the ravages of time with exquisite grace,
Providing warmth and comfort, when life moved at a slower pace.
Built to last for generations, built when guild took pride;
There, generations of genteel folk, loved, laughed and cried!
Entry for Nayda Ivette Negron's "Enchanted House" Contest
N ot over you, I’m sure not
I n love with you, not really
K inda want you, I do
I stopped talking to you, biggest mistake of my life
W illing to do anything for you, I am
A lways going to be there for you, I will
L etting you go, never will
L eave you, never have
I n love with you…….
N ow I am
Jade scythes
of areca fronds
slice slate air;
Medusa's snakes writhe.
Pewter arrows pierce
my garden.
I sit beneath an eave
pondering
the nascent storm.
Geraniums cloister
like vestal butterflies
in darkening loam
as a multitude
of emerald tufts
bend on the fleeing lawn.
5/12/18
I viewed them the spring before – robins in our grass
and swallows flying circles around the front of the house.
Weeks later I spied their nests -
the swallows’ under an eave of our garage
and the robins’ hidden in a cluster
of our pear tree’s lovely green boughs.
I wish to have seen the eggs the robins surely laid,
but their nest was too high up.
The swallows’ nest intrigued me more,
for I was able to easily witness the hatchlings’ progress.
Periodically the parent birds came to feed them.
Eagerly I’d step off my porch when I saw the parents
swooping down and then soaring back to the sky.
Sometimes they whizzed close by my head as if to scold me
for my curiosity in their offspring; I was a trespasser on my own land.
Next year I will await them, but I think they will not return.
Always the robins return, but knowing swallows as I do. . .
their last year’s nest is sure to sit
lonely and unvisited.
Nov. 24, 2019 for Craig Cornish's "Last Year's Nests" Poetry Contest
(this actually happened several years ago, and the swallows never returned)
Eavesdropping
A good man is hard to find
Said my Nana,
That was the day I saw tears in her eyes
As she nervously stuff the monthly tithe in the envelope
And headed to church that Sunday morning
Before, screaming at my granddad for hours
I guess she was mad as hell at the old fool
That was the same day when I found out that my hero my grandpa
Was having an affair with the widower Estelline Beckley
“Ellie you’re the only woman for me said my Granddad”
However, my Nana wasn’t haven’t any of that
So she slammed the door in Granddad face
I remember being scared, and confused,
About this family feud
So, I hid under the table, and prayed to God
for the screaming and shouting to stop
For several weeks all my Nana did was pray and prayed
And all Granddad done was burn her pots and pans
Boiling water and making coffee.
Nana told the neighbors, that those harlots with a trail
For a rear end, could cause a man to climb,
a mountain without his proper gears
That statement still baffles me until this day.
Until many years later when I met my mother half sister
the spit and image of my mother.
however, she had the very spirit and expression of my Granddad
so much for eave dropping and family affairs
My thoughts wander as I wonder what I'm running for.
It's like I'm hunted cos I'm wanted for the chalk under juggernauts.
Now I ponder what I'm running from.
I took shelter against an atomic bomb.
I put distance between us like boggy swamps.
And worked resistance against urges when the horror taunts.
I grip the side of todays and tomorrows wants.
And let the world burn away when on fire watch.
I turn to gaze at the stars in the night sky and look away with desire in my bright eyes.
I stay aligned and balanced like earths globe.
With the moon and the planets with the sun burning slow
I come with passion for the past do I desert home
Do I deserve a future or do I turn rogue.
There's no sorrow for tomorrow when you watch it pass.
Forgot today in search of yesterday in the past.
My future looks like an image of a bleak scene.
I emerged from the sea still picturing a deep me.
My heart goes out to all the people that are never found.
Too much going on and feeling under pressure now.
It aint easy when surviving on this deadly ground either.
As we breath the air choking thank god we found sleepers.
Only demons there to keep us here keep us scared they're sincere.
Still considering my thoughts where I re compare.
Nightmares and dream scapes as I lie here this heat wave leaves me right here going crazy to see the change.
Trapped seeing these angles.
The tangled chap man of perception in chains where they dangle.
The manacled mans hands on pulse when he strangles throats.
Facing these battles I stand alone like a stranded ghost.
I move faster alone quick grab the rope slick catch an go.
All in the same boat now the ships mast broke.
No sails for gale winds that blow on the high seas tired trying hit that coast.
Thats my goal.
Deep in defiance when I fling that stone as reply to some social science you show signs that ya lean that low.
Ya best answer when I ring that phone. That's right man ya hear me bring that tone.
When I bring back soul ya knees flop like a bean bag dolls.
Man ya eave drop like a clique of crack hoes.
Like a dog tare the meat from the bone of bone idol spineless blokes if they fit that role.
Weave a glittering tapestry
Of wisdom for youths of the world, so they
Resoundingly reject peer pressures that often
Drain their innocence. Words of wisdom would
Spare them the sword of damocles
Teach them as many life lessons as possible
Open their minds to new possibilities
"Live rightly, think rightly and act rightly,"
Is Mahatma Gandhi's philosophy. Familiarize these words of
Value to impressionable minds. Instill in them virtues like
Empathy, tolerance, patience and fairness
Bless them with the belief that the seed of dreams
Yield fresh fruits for years to come.
BRIAN'S CHOICE 8, Any Form, Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: Honorable mention)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date: 05/10/2020
Date written and posted: 4/8/2016
Lavish in the glorious privilege of being,
indulging in the incessant buffet of creation's sensuous
pleasures.
Venture across seas of curiosity, diving fathoms to
grasp the mysterious.
Embrace the immortality of your soul.
Let your compassion for humanity be a welcoming
oasis to the lonesome weary traveler; a
vessel of hope to those drowning in destitution.
Embelish your crown with jewels of kindness and
charity.
Leave solemness and weeping to judges and mourners.
Allow your inner child to come out and play,
unleashing a contagion of smiles and tomfoolery.
Gift yourself and those around you an elixer of bubbly
merriment to
heal an epidemic of melancholy souls.
A cheap cigar
vaporized to coffee black
under the eave of Starbucks.
With quiet reservations he admires
Attuned to all that senses captivate
To sift thru information he acquires
Considering how it may thus relate
He studies all with intimate precision
For his or any sake that might arise
Unless the fates intend on a collision
Leave supervision to HIS private eyes.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "What's In A Name" Poetry Contest, Juliet Ligon, Judge & Sponsor.
* Congratulations on your first contest - this was fun! *
The Cat in the Hat
went walking through the woods,
Thing 1 and Thing 2
were up to no good.
They were teasing Miss Muffet
as she was sitting there,
the spider scared her so bad
she lost all, but one strand of hair.
"Be good there
What do you think you do?
eave her alone
Thing 1 and Thing 2."
The Old Lady in the Shoe
was hanging out clothes,
Thing 1 and Thing 2
ran up and started striking a pose.
Thing 1 and Thing 2
were dancing around,
these two were the most annoying people
on this side of town.
The Old Lady
had a baseball bat,
started giving chase to
Thing 1, Thing 2 and The Cat in the Hat.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Oct.19/2004
To Be Continued....