Best Embellished Poems
Shadowed in the silent room, the daylight's nearly gone
Dusk climbs in through window glass, with one last ray of sun
I start the task, climb on a chair, reach up to shelves so high
to mother's boxes neatly stacked, and dust gets in my eyes
I take one down, to look inside and sit upon a chair
I find some musty linens, laces needing some repair
Discovering old photographs, the year was '42
Her face was smooth as porcelain, unblemished, young and new
Old documents and letters, a history unveiled
Her letters, torn and yellowed, such stories they would tell
The next box held small china cups, so lovingly embellished
And then I found a book of verse, inscribed with poems she relished
Some dresses stained and wrinkled, their fabric thin and tattered
Were once a thing of beauty, as if they really mattered
Her jewelry, gold and silver, some lovely rings and brooches
A warm sensation circles me, her presence now approaches
I sense a change come over me, and fleeting leave of gloom
The darkness of the evening lifts, as sunlight fills the room
She wraps her warmth around me, her fragrance in the air
My loneliness is free to go, I know that she is there
Among these things, I find the last, the smallest box of all
Inside it are the baby clothes, I wore when I was small
A letter there to tell me that she knows the tears I've cried
Her words of love that never died, they fill me up inside
These treasures speak her words to me, and now that I am grown
She wants to tell her story, those parts I've never known
I've heard her voice, while sitting here, among her china flowers
I"ve found such peace, she's next to me, to spend these quiet hours
____________________________________________________________
Written 6/8/2008
Submitted to Contest: "Old Jewelry or Just Old Things or Old,
Old Poems/Poetry Contest "
Sponsor: Broken Wings
I hope you would still remember me as we were,
every time you see pristine
passing pomegranate hues of the horizon.
When clouds smear our unspoken love
in inexplicable figurines,
of those simple moments we
reignited beneath our own twilight,
reliving our dreams in
remaining rosy dialects of romantic recollections,
as I have a confession to make
beneath this cluttering of chaos.
I wasn’t ready to let you nor our late night conversations go,
After all these years, all my heart ever desires,
is for you to see the broken empire
behind these weary eyes.
I have long been a gift of solitude and sorrow,
But as I’ve let you go, my hopes swayed a lilac
feathered goodbye,
Although you’ll never know how a simple hey,
once upon a time, saved my life,
and embellished my universe with pearlescent
moonstones and amethysts.
Yet I still question you, in rustic rhymes you can’t comprehend,
Have you forgotten how to pronounce my name?
is it because your heart doesn’t feel the same?
Have your desires now become tame?
As you walk away, why am I the one to take the blame?
Is our love now lost in history?
Is that why you’ve left me in so much mystery?
In your absence the mind battles against violence.
All is mute in a void of meaningless silence.
Did you forget to love me today?
Is this the price I have to pay?
Just for you to say that you’ll love me
again in the same way, someday.
To my enemies,
cloaked in t w i n k l i n g topaz~
I’ve become immune
to your illusive m a n t r a s,
recited in roseate refrains.
I’ve learned to see
the vermilion
f l o a t i n g
between venomous
pigments of
psychedelic sunsets
For life is a whirlpool
of uncertainties
slithering through
l o o p h o l e s of adversities
We waltz through
h i g h s and l o w s
while masked foes
orchestrate a
a circus embellished
in emerald s p r i n g s
Yet, I f o r g i v e
your i g n o r a n t skies,
unable to grasp
the vision of loyalty
You’ve long been
preaching in
verses of lyrical lies,
soaring above
catastrophic canopies~
draped with my
sentimental s i g h s
this conscience remains
constantly crippled
by the ecstasy of
poisonous promises~
served from
diamond chalices
once upon
a blood m o o n
There’s still
a pearlescent
shore for faithless
footprints in the
island of h e a l i n g
in the marine bed
of softness
that f l o w s
beneath seething seas,
there I’ll sculpt a
lagoon of
p r a y e r s across
fire corals that
f l i c k e r
in tints of
lethal lime green
As I allow aquatic
pearl ruffles to ripple
through weary waves,
they become the
sacred v e s s e l
that unveils
hyacinth stars,
when your heart is
as dark as the
eclipsed moonflowers
Tonight, I’ll rewrite
the poems I’ve woven
from golden arrows
that assassinated
the alliterative tranquility
in sinister silence
within my inner psyche
In the journey of revival
I’ve mastered the art
of wearing pain
like a crown of
thistles and thorns
I’ll forgive you
amidst unspoken apologies,
and e r a s e the
a c h i n g colors
within greying rainbows,
behind your
soulless eyes.
For, I can feel the
insecurities r u s h i n g
through those veins~
longing for an empathetic
empire that
serves you
k i n d n e s s
So take these metaphors,
make them yours,
ink them across
your s u n l e s s canvas,
and r i s e beyond the
demons that lurk
as shadows within
your a r t l e s s heart.
May the light of twilight,
correct your insincere intentions.
And when will the tides turn against confident indifference?!
When will humanity cease
To throw cats against curiosity’s silver coated dagger
Another played out song
Another dramatic lyric
Shifting embellished overtones
With deteriorating tact
They spit posthumous awakenings
As divinity laced smiles, wither under a convoluted moon
Shedding retina waterfalls
Misunderstood
Pretentious anger becomes Aphrodite mediocrity
Wisdom, they never “put out”
Crippled tears
Become self-important struts within olive tinted reckonings
Lambasted butterflies
Stirring hornets’ nest
Uninvited
They dream for better days
While double-knotting gang colored bandanas
On eagle’s achromatic foreheads
Another Woody Woodpecker band-aid pulled from condescending hypocrisies
…
And when will the tides turn against pilot light’s mal-intent?
When will the flinty sheep
Stop wondering how these charring, orange fires began
Forgetting the 115 octane gasoline can
They hold quietly in their hands
©Drake J. Eszes
This is a slightly revised repost but which was formerly deleted.)
I climbed the high mountain,
breathed in the harsh high air,
really relished the beauty
of the valley where you lived.
And all because it was a custom
to present a perfumed edelweiss
to you whom I loved
in those days gone by.
But you would have none of it,
rejected me out of hand.
I felt dejected and frustrated
but then remembered the old legend
how a damsel princess of old
the beauty of the vale,
remained nubile unattached,
for none deserved her hand.
Thus to her death she remained single
and all the men who loved her, wept.
They buried her high upon a mountain
and covered her grave with roses red.
But as spring came upon her grave
grew lovely white flowers whose scent
embellished the mountain tops,
and everyone agreed that
the flower should be a remembrance
of their love that remained a dream.
A flower all called edelweiss,
a memorial for eternity.
Diminished by age, a weathered existence limps
Crutching dimmed vision and impaired limbs,
Much wiser that before, it speaks wisdom words
Entertaining grandkids in stories that enlighten,
Wishing the time to destiny would stop rushing
Reminiscing adoringly in yesteryears’ springs
As exuberance of yore in travails of life recedes,
Recalling seasons pristine, ravishing, blossoming
When youth ruled meadows of blazing revelry,
Reckoning lately though, how summer parches lilies
And winter freezes perishing autumnal leaves,
Unsure whether sunlit-dawn tomorrow brings,
If life’s graying themes can still invoke dreams~
As blunt reality confronts passions embellished.
Yet, life emulates pride of battered old oak tree
Mangled and broken, withering in gusty winds
But, standing steadfastly aiming for centuries
Rejoicing birds frolicking, concert of hatchlings,
And it too sways merrily ignoring bleak warnings
Beckoning alluringly reluctant, fading feelings
To tango in ballroom of life for yet one more spin,
Conjuring ancient images of renaissance in Italy~
The Colosseum, statues, galleries full of paintings
Pulsating forever, beyond bounds of mortality
Weathered, yet standing, as battered old oak tree
And aged-existence that defiantly keeps ticking.
November 24, 2021
Placed 2nd: “W” New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Weathered
Written: March 05, 2025
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As the final petal droops
upon quivering leaves,
while the soul begins to decay
akin to the evening lights
fading into a coffin.
Tears flow quietly across vacant rooms,
sheltered in the hidden retreat,
of a hapless fool folly.
Aged and forsaken, an ancient blade lies
on a ragged oak table.
All around the termite-ridden
floorboards are strewn with
tattered sheets of stories.
Valiant voices of victory,
vibrate in vivid verses,
preserved with lively Ink.
Decades of disarray have faded away,
leaving behind a cherished tale,
its inked revelations whirl into a frenzy,
as I peer through the glass,
reminiscing about those golden days
when my youth overflowed with joy.
I couldn't assist but notice
the drooping scarlet dahlias.
A gleaming golden crown,
sparkling with lovely
crimson queens
rests upon the head of a forlorn exile—
and that is all that remains.
Under the relentless sun
that preys upon the flames,
how can I rise above
the crimson chaos
that encroaches at the edges,
surrounding the ghostly grave
of the poetic soul
I have lost in the quest for acclaim.
Within the weeping window,
a wild wonder reveals itself,
draped in a vivid shade of vermilion.
Amid the whispers of wayward spirits,
the flawless porcelain of our past
now bears unsightly marks.
Fractured dreams are embellished
with delicate threads, while shafts of
sunlight slices through shadowy skies.
The family fortress,
frozen in cold stone,
waits for its wary wanderer,
beckoning the illustrious
to traverse its dimly paths.
In the serene silence of slumber,
the sorrowful saga emerges.
The embrace of eternal sleep.
A chilling chronicle of the collapse
cascades in the corridors
akin to a haunting harmony.
The aspiration and avarice
ultimately overwhelmed us
As the clock chimed cheerfully
at midnight on that chilling night,
the cunning usurper brandished
a blade and brutally
broke their beings,
birthing ghosts of grim,
unspoken words to weep
behind weathered walls.
At this moment, I am
the emerald evening
of the early dawn,
The waxen white wick
that waits before their
weathered tombstone is
withered to a whisper.
Violet, a lovely lady, kin to Purple, can be a contradiction.
Between her fellows Red and Blue (yet more inclined to Blue),
she lies with a calm passion! Unique and unconventional is she!
A symbol of humility, through the ages she has listened to confessions
as she draped the shoulders of Roman Catholic priests.
Yet often in society, she’s been seen as extravagant and vain!
Just for having embellished the rooms and the attire
of monarchs, emperors, and princes,
and just because Violet is flattering to the yellow found in gold,
should she then be punished for her wealth of beauty?
Should her shades with other lovely names such as
Lilac, Lavender, Amethyst, and Mauve
be seen in any other way as simply gorgeous?
Perhaps for her ambiguity as she shifts to deeper reddish hues
then back to cool blue, she is perceived in western culture
as uncertain and ambivalent, for she is not popular with the masses.
Van Gogh, however, understood her,
painting her as irises and showing her in swirls of stars!
And in the oriental world, where she is extolled,
she radiates the sublime harmony of the universe,
as the melding of the yin and yang of red and blue.
Violet, who sometimes spreads herself splendidly
across the twilight skies
and peeks out from rainbows,
is a beauty so rarely seen in nature
that the birds, stones and plants that she enchants
are not even too numerous to name.
Have you seen her purple pearl or coral in the sea?
Have you heard the song of African violet-backed starlings?
But oh! Violet loves flowers. . . Besides her small sweet namesake,
She colors crocuses, petunias, asters, geraniums and pansies.
Not many other things in nature does Violet cling to,
yet she adores the grape and plum,
and with a certain whimsy, she’s charmed purple cabbage,
the turnip, eggplant, and beets!
Rare lady in nature, Violet, my adored, why is it that you are not more loved?
As I cross a field of lavender and breathe you in, the answer to my question
eludes me.
Snowing tonight….incandescent, luminescent,
Silvery snow, whispering divine dreams..
Air misty, breeze calm, serene! Do I see the
Brilliant Star, which directed the wise men
To a stable on an evening of starry twilight ...
When the three wise magi spotted the
Brightest star in the east, their surprise,
And their exhilaration knew no bounds!
Our Lord has come to us, the star beckons,
We must follow the glowing light and find our Saviour!
Sights through my window-panes are blurred!
Rooftops getting blanketed with white
Shimmering laces! treetops beautifully
Embellished with silver ornaments,
Grasses caressed by softest drizzle of snow!
This is the night, holy night for the universe
When we welcome our Lord to illuminate
Our life! They found Him in the manger,
Divine baby and Holy Mother they prayed to,
Most precious gifts were showered on Him!
We gaze with wonder at glittering stars above,
On this magnificent Christmas Day, in every
Glistening snowflake I behold Christmas magic -
An aura of love and compassion for the needy
Envelop the world with spiritual grace and harmony!
* *
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Gently, they swirled about in Winter's frigid wind
No two were identical, none were ever twinned
Each ice crystal, a pristine beauty transcending
Tumbling from clouded gray skies, softly descending
* * *
* * *
I frolicked among them, as amused as a child
Infused with wonderment and totally beguiled
Tree limbs brocaded, deeply embellished with snow
So beautifully they glistened with lucent glow
* * *
* *
How quickly it gathered on rooftops and hedges
Wafting, free-spirited, collecting on ledges
Down, they continued twirling in a tranquil scene
Etched in memory as idyllic and serene
* * *
*
I was enamored and enthralled as it drifted
Toward heaven, my eyes were gratefully lifted
As each flake so elegantly fell to the ground
Creating a dreamscape without making a sound
* *
*
Like dainty birds, they fluttered in such a hurry
a flock of crystal snowflakes, in Winter's flurry
My world was blanketed by a quilt of pure white
Tonight it would sparkle brilliantly in starlight!
* *
*
December 10, 2020
Winter Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
Upon Misty Morning's Fast Fading Glow
Upon misty morning's fast fading glow,
dance fairies on glittering silver wings.
Flying with fantasies flowing in tow
And sweetest joy such dancing often brings.
Above their heads the rising sun awaits,
its morning sun's time for shining anew.
If fairies are seen, man then contemplates,
dreaming depths of that rare mystical clue.
As dancing wings fast flutter to depart,
one ponders glistened myriads of fate.
Sadness beating in dreams of every heart,
with embellished scenes of day's opened gates.
Upon that vanishing flash time cries out,
woe to he that simply waits upon me!
Free living is what life is all about.
Life taking dire chances is living free-
In those windless breezes summer moon shines,
In the deep dark no more secrets to dread,
The grave beginnings we have all kept live ----
Weeping misery and ancient-kept death
The mountains moan, the mountains moan! ---- as babes!
Those creepy-crawly mists fade to fortune;
Wondrous winds in a panting night do tame ----
The fevered child once wan with vacant love
A horn Gabriel shall blow through pink clouds ----
And sleeping stars bring life with bright-night-light
A world to shine and illume all year round;
Broods of good company and simple delights
The morn shall pass and with it mad darkness,
The heavens death cannot roam freely so;
Old Lucifer, huffing and puffing red!
Upon misty morning's fast fading glow.
3-04-2016
First 16 lines written by Robert Lindley
Last 16 lines written by Keith O.J. Hunt
Mister Joe, poet, jangles loose change in his pocket,
Jogging memories and garnering thoughts as he walks.
For Mr. Joe's brain washes, tumbles and dries,
his gems of thoughts in hourly cycles, with riddles, jingles and rhymes.
Each wash-up, extracted, pegged, and hung up to dry,
To taunt and flap jangles for him, his readers and strangers near by.
Mister Joe's charm icons are processed, mulled over, distilled and wrung out for meaning within.
His jangles find meaning in bumps on smooth paper, read as Braille.
His jangles arise from stones skipped over calm smooth waters,
yielding meaning in the creases and ripples created.
His jangles rattle his sleep awake each night, with sky rockets of images and flashes bursting.
His jangles are a empowering, rewarding, revealing, enlightening,
and sometimes troubling and haunting, but can't be undone.
His jangles are his rhyme and reason, his friend and confidant, his mater and aether
His jangles are really what he's all about as a poet,
as a miner and peddler of ideas, and as a prophet and revealer.
Mister Joe's charms jangles the minds of his readers
His words cast nets to trawl up memories and concepts,
lured within the reader's mind with word play and twists.
Seas of dreams and memories are netted, prodded and poked
To yield twinkles, sparkles, hums, grunts, and nods of appreciation and delight.
His jangles finding meaning and echoes with links and associations, never before conceived nor considered.
Mister Joe's catch of memories once jangled, are returned to reader with care
Embellished and enthralled by meaning, relevance, word play and twists.
The reader now has new jangles to add to charm bracelet on wrist, or to jingle with loose change in pocket.
Mister Joe, the poet, and his reader, now walk and dance with jangles, jingling echoes within.
My father’s funeral, a sad occasion
but his cruel actions go beyond the grave
My sister had organised a display
A silver frame contained a picture of his smiling face
Many other smaller photographs were scattered on the table
One picture in particular caught my eye
I’d never seen this photograph before …
One stone of cold chiselled grey granite
Three generations of names embellished with gold letters
a permanent family memorial…
But MY name was missing
One of the mourners asked me why my name wasn’t there
It is a question I still don’t have an answer for
Two years have passed since he died …
I am still yet to grieve
(This has been a very cathartic poem to write. I have since discovered that in 2007 my father organised for his name, my mother’s name and my sister’s name to be added to the family grave in Lithuania. Just the dates of death are missing… along with my name)
Two word challenge contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
11-05-17
Christmas unfolds all wrapped up memories
Along with wrapped gifts, bells, and jingles…
Treasure of family and friends in old oak cabin
…laughter and love surround!
Memories return tiptoeing when alone,
Recollections of joyful moments abound!
Children waiting anxiously for opening their favourite gifts,
Flavourful aroma of baking, wafting from the kitchen,
Stockings hanging with delightful suspenses,
Being cozy beside the warmth of fire-place,
Immense joy and happiness shared around!
Watch incandescent luminous snowflakes
evergreens are embellished with silver ornaments,
The moonlit night is serene, misty, and beautiful,
Do I see the Star of Bethlehem- brightest star in the east!
A baby was born in a manger on this day,
Wise men found him - knew our saviour had arrived !
Christmas is loving and giving,
A night of prayers and quiet celebration,
Pray for the world…happiness close and far,
No touch of gloom and sadness on this day,
No one should be starving, or shivering in cold!
No one should feel alone!
A thoughtful, serene night embodying grace and harmony -
My Tree is dazzling with tokens of memories!
On a golden carpet of lustrous laurel
another red leaf in amber blaze gleams,
twirling to trumpets in waltz so aural
blanket of glorious crimson autumn dreams.
Iridescent veil orchestrates blue fir trees
maple shimmers in draped sequins of crystal dew,
swaying to layered hums of shivering breeze
blazing in flames of proliferous mauve hue.
Immersed in aroma of wet mountain slumber
lavender dusk nervously cuddles silver frost,
spreading gossamer melody on emerging umber
bathing in scarlet rays, broken twigs embossed.
Symphony of scintillating fervent topaz seas
disperses from azure palate on electric sky,
dripping to crevices of haloed tides to appease
mellows of echoing wind for sandcastles to fly.
Exploding ecstasy of an embellished petal springs
peeping through rivulets in reaping wisps of desire,
to a moonlit bridge, my whispering red leaf clings
longing to strum tender strings in autumn's bonfire.
August 6, 2020
Nature Rhyming Poetry Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
~Winner: 2nd Place