Best Eld Poems
Candies, Christmas songs and presents
Held me one time in their thrall.
Reunions, however, had true Christmas essence
In that childhood I recall
So fondly, but nowadays it seems
Too many folks I used to know have
Moved on or passed away. My dreams
Are not the same, but family
Still rules in this happiest of holidays for me!
for the What Does Christmas Mean to You Contest of Matt Caliri
Triumph of God’s love* gripped me amidst apathy’s attack
Reigning over guilt, it loosened my distress-burdened back
Incredibly conquering my heart with peace-pardon pack…
Upon His mercy’s throne, He offered me His grace of no lack
Meeting so divine when I trusted Him along faith-track
Propped by His great compassion, I received His blessings’ sack
Held in His kindness, I’ll lead others toward His love’s knack!
*1John 4:9 In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him.
Acrostic and Monorhyme
August 25, 2018
Edited on May 15, 2020
You, my beloved;
Stars inspire to sway and move in the day
Those hours which happiest till our feeble age
Glimmer of pearls trickle and drip on silk;
A rhythmic rouse through billows of cream milk
Pendulous amber stipule path, weaving
Warm champagne beams, on ruffle berth leaving
Darkness of an abandon mid-night moon,
Gloom bands standing fields and wood-fill life swoon
You, my beloved;
Stars inspire to sway and move in the day
Those hours which happies till our feeble age
Fragrant firmament then forgotten ours;
Liquescent hands reaching for the fixed stars
Curled up to the world's eld averting gaze,
To pluck the ripened unearth passion blaze
A glitter of amorous scene of warmth
Nor fading heaven, wake no bounds fruit worth
3/8/2020
Poetry Contest: Picture Prompt
Sponsored by: Brenda Chiri
There's a swing that is hung from a long oaken tree,
By a string where the young have a longing to be.
Where they fly to the sky, ever higher they go,
Till they cry, "Not so high! I shall die, don't you know?"
And they tread through the wold all around by the tree,
Where it's said ruins old can be found by a key.
How they thought many-a night how this fact could be true,
And they fought to set right while they wracked in a crew;
But they never could figure that blur in the tale,
So they clamber with vigor the fir by the trail.
They'd retrace to the place where the moss covered tree
Like a face, beamed with grace as it tossed o'er the lea.
Such a hold that tree held on their glad little selves
As they trolled songs of eld with the bad little elves;
And the song that they sing is a song specked with tears,
Of a long oaken swing cast along through the years;
Left alone by the lane, overgrown, never seen,
Ever blown by the rain, with a groan deep and keen,
Till a small little girl stopped a while on her way,
And a tall oaken burl with a smile bade her stay.
How she clove in a dive through the grove, and the tree,
How it throve, came alive in the cove, in the lea.
{Comments and critique by those knowledgeable
about consonance vastly appreciated.}
During one year of my high school (I can’t remember which),
Everything was beautiful in one particular class.
Books were not required.
Only imagination and creativity were
Revered!
An outstanding teacher fresh out of college
Held me enraptured that one entire semester.
Rather than drone on with lectures, she inspired us to
Own our uniqueness!
Zestfully she approached
Each “teaching” moment with interesting lessons.
By having us sit in a circle really listening to one another, she
Opened up our minds, allowing us to voice
Our opinions and then express them through descriptive writing.
Much appreciation I have for the amazing teaching of Ms. Rozeboom.
Oct. 20, 2019
for Chantelle Anne Cooke's "Favorite Teacher or Professor" Poetry Contest
Make not a farce nor lessen my lament,
your weeping stains will hide my mask of dreams
for poison feeds your nocuous intent,
revealing naught of pain through silent screams.
Another victim broken lost and drained
gets left to cry with feelings stretched and strained.
I whispered coos to you my turtledove
left crushed beneath the words of ladylove.
Enough of sorrow's dim lit candle flamed
held close to flicker out as I but breathe
engulfed as if with magic, wild, untamed
as never more this love I will reprise.
Released I'll live again, my soul will soar
to know my fragile heart will break no more.
10/23/16
Camille Desmoulins was a poet at the time of the French Revolution,
his enthusiastic speeches were practically the trigger for
the inspiring Revolution of other revolutions ... he acted together
to his inseparable friend DANTON in l789:
Every revolution has its day,
every change has its time,
the eld leaves, it has to follow ...
the new always arrives and
installs ... the eld leaves for
its reality, faces the truth
with sadness or gallantry, or
tranquility...
France, cradle of Enlightenment:
Liberté ... Egalité ... Fraternité ...
1789 will be remembered ever
not to forget ... a milestone
of universal history ... 1789 ...
a poet ... a speech ...
Stutterer from birth, Desmoulins
with his geue, his verve ... he preached,
he who had already screamed for
female vote before, preached
for the republic ...
at his side DANTON, companion
from other eras ... in ancient Greece,
prisca eras: Spartacus and his
faithful squire ... through the ages
always together, always companions.
In the passages, noble causes
defended ... came the revolution
in France ... the victory and the guillotine ...
Victory has been achieved, his head
beheaded ...
Today in the present life, Desmoulins
is a journalist in Rio de Janeiro,
Danton engineer in Sao Paulo ...
according to the spiritists ...
Desmoulins spoke and the Bastille
fell ... the king fell ... the republic
arrived in France ...
Today the fight is spiritual, it is for
aggrandizement, development
moral of the human being ... today the
mission is to instruct man to
divine truths, for progress
spiritual...
One day Camille said on occasion
before the scaffold:
EDAMUS ET BIBAMOS CRAS,
ENIN MORIEMUR ...!
PS sugestões Song
Caroline cherie Aznavour
https://youtu.be/lLZq4ZoF7qQ
Strolling through the museum today I saw a fancy mirror on the wall.
'Twas framed with baroque gilt and standing nearly nine feet tall.
A card attached revealed that is was over eight score years eld.
I sat on a nearby bench to muse upon past images it might have beheld.
In my reverie I pictured many scenarios, letting my mind roam.
Could it have graced the entry hall of a fine Victorian home,
Reflecting a gracious young lady clad in fancy ribbon and lace,
Sadly parting, seeing her soldier off to war with a final embrace?
Perchance it was displayed in the ballroom of a grand hotel,
Reflecting the graceful dancing of many a beautiful belle!
Could it have been owned by a colonel of cavalry on the frontier,
Where he preened himself practicing to appear militarily severe?
Perhaps it hung on the wall of a raucous Cripple Creek saloon,
Capturing images of high-stepping dancer and drunken buffoon!
Maybe it saw a reflection of the sheriff coming through the door,
To quell a gunfight, leaving desperadoes sprawled upon the floor!
I sensed a profusion of ghostly images peering back at me,
Each an icon with a tale that will be etched for all eternity.
Reflections of exciting and glorious days now long gone by,
Evoking precious memories, perhaps a tear and many a doleful sigh!
Entry for Craig Cornish's "Mirror Mirror" Contest
Wonders wrought by God
Omnipotence proof
Revealing His might
Kindling worship praise.
Mankind, He reached out
Assured with His gift
Not neglecting me...
Soul of mine He saved
Held me near His heart
In His workmanship*
Perfecting my life!
*Ephesians 2:10 "For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them."
Acrostic w/ "blank verse" since each line has five syllables each
February 21, 2019
1st place, "A Three Word Poem" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Bobby May; judged on 2/24/2019.
To the elderly, I novel
I advise the eld age
to live life...
just how they
advise me
Learn to live... !
Thou thy lass of heart's desire
A bloom of Eden's Garden
From thou charm my soul thee mire
My love aught dare to pardon
I beseech thee unto marriage
With hands of ample adore
In ring we journey by carriage
Unto our heavenly door
Now in hand, a dwelling we share
Amidst a montane dingle
Adoring much the child we bear
Our love we lean to mingle
Amidst our eld of solitude
Our beauty transitory
With death we so strode to elude
As heaven raves our glory
H aunted house filled with darkness
O nly grief was welcome in my home
M y Almighty Father bless my sorrow!
E nvison sweet life like there’s no other
S uddenly He lightened my mind
W hispered my ears and said
E levate those oppression and call me
E rase anxiety and I’ll give you happiness
T ill His voce vanished and left me in wisdom
H eld each other’s hands, all eyes closed
O h my Father! Bless our home and family
M ay you shower blessings of prosperity and love
E nvison a home where family is at peace
On the beach one night
Neath a late-May moon
My love bathed its light
Lunar beams to swoon
(Kindled hearts, attune)
Just two young fools
In cool spring flames
Held close the dunes
Glib passion's games
Fire and ice
Even's arc
Did entice
Cool spark
Bare thaw ...
Awe.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Pick A Title, Vol 12 - Diminished Hexaverse" Poetry Contest, Edward Ibeh, Judge & Sponsor.
* This is Diminished Hexaverse that I also did in Rhyme and Reverse ABC *
( Syllables = 5x5, 4x4, 3x3, 2x2, 1, counted at HowManySyllables.com - I removed the apostrophe from 'Neath as the software will not count words that start with an apostrophe. Thank you! ).
10 YEARS
The girl wants to be a teenager,
the boy wants to be juvenile ...
20 YEARS...
is the adulthood of adolescence ...
30 YEARS...
It is the age of reason for young people ...
40 YEARS...
It's the eld age of youth ...
50 YEARS...
It is the youth of eld age ...
60 YEARS...
It's the age of reason for adults ...
70 YEARS...
It is the beginning of eld age ...
85 YEARS...
It's last sighs of ancient age ...
99 YEARS...
It is the rattle of ages ...
100 YEARS...
It's the real impossibility ...
110 YEARS ...
It's actually a dinosaur ...
thing that only God explains,
Freud doesn't even clarify...!
Ps. It is only humor, do not Take It seriously
GAZEL - TRUE LOVE!
To the world I wish to scream joyful gloria
In the wind I desire to spread my euphoria.
My face shines, in pure satisfaction
my blood boils vibrant in tuned emotion
Let everyone learns that I now love madly
madness of eld lover but without agony
Everyone agrees that I am a extra joyful man
If I am cheerful, sleep , so in peace as i can
Ah! it's so much love that my chest doesn't even fit
it would be love to donate to the world,i admit it ...
Now i sail in seas never sailed in harmony
I now fly to heaven in a epiphany
I possess a true love and a soul in a fantasy
Pure love, allegro, andante, as in symphony ...!