Best Ensconced Poems
Missing Family
Today I planted seedlings with my hand
In springtime's youth and wish to watch them bloom,
As verdant leaves now grow across the land,
In hopes the lovely blooms dispel the gloom
Of my sad melancholy heart that dwells
Within this lonely soul bereft of glee,
With a yearning in which sincerely swells,
Alone with tears of Fear's disparity.
Sweet loves of my life now in distance glow,
Whose loving faces I embraced each day,
Just as these seedlings that I hope will grow,
They live so close in thought, yet far away.
In missing them I pray again to see
Their sweet faces ensconced in memory.
5-24-20
~Third Place~
BRIAN'S CHOICE 11,any form,
any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor Brian Strand
Travel with me and enter
into the flower carpeted mountain meadows
of my youth;
Lose yourself in the wild beauty which resides within
God's tinted skies of yellow and vermouth.
Vested memories held captive by eidetic moments,
"Oh blessed beating heart, "
enter the flowered thoughts of a poet's nest, delve into the
sanctuary of God's Grace,
for it is here that you belong.
Seen through the eyes, felt with the heart
ensconced with a soul your free to roam,
inside roads less traveled, where timeless voices
are heard, through the echoes of all time.
You belong to the One who has given you,
both shape and creed.
A response written after reading
"You've changed my life completely"
by Jadazzle United
For Jan and Darren
(Soulmates sint rara et mirabile)
Love is such a fragile thing,
Softer than a butterflies wing.
The gentle entwining of mind and soul,
A linking of passions that makes one whole.
It can rise and fall just as the tide,
And link two people across oceans wide
It brings forth such joy and pure delight
Creates a bond that holds them tight
Love is such a fragile thing,
As beautiful as Angels sing.
It will lift you so high above the earth,
And give your heart a soothing berth.
It fills your senses your thoughts as well,
Your entire being resonates like a bell.
Promises exchanged sweet words spoken,
To last an eternity and never be broken.
Love is such a fragile thing,
Passion it enflames desire it does bring.
Lost to the world in ardour and delight,
All else fades from the lovers sight.
Ensconced in a world of poetic diction,
Wrapped up in each other as if in a fiction.
Still even love sometimes can go awry,
But in the end true love can never die.
Tears subside,
hushed breaths draw ebbing tide,
soft virgin sands, un-walked and damp, shine.
A delicate filigree of silvery brine
brings an interlude where grief and beauty entwine,
gently swaying between now and then.
Thoughts of ‘remember when’
stir again.
Scattered far and wide,
bygones shimmer in rock pools,
scents on breezes ride...
elusive remnants of love
under bitter-sweet moonlight.
There is a place where reveries reside,
ensconced in time between the lows and highs,
where troubles disappear in ocean’s sighs
and hopes return with happiness inside.
Where shades of blue, and rose hues coincide
to nurture promises of sweet reprise,
there is a place where reveries reside,
ensconced in time between the lows and highs.
A haven to reflect on love’s divide,
recall that smile, the twinkle of those eyes
with fondness, then let woven dreams arise
with threads of gilded memories to guide...
this is the place where reveries reside.
**For Jared Pickett's Trois Par Huit /Tanka/Rondel contest
One rare night
fell
midnight blue
as a multitude of stars, like lofty thoughts,
pulsed with light,
confessions from
the depths of twilight’s essence - sky.
The poetess, ensconced in her small room,
reached down
deep inside
her soul of indigo.
Immersed in the profusion of her thoughts,
she felt compelled tonight
to search for only those that shone. . .
Ignoring a collage of ideas
which summoned disillusionment
or inspired remembrances
of bitterness and pain,
she moved a pen across a journal page.
Words upon words radiant with hope
began to flow. . .
As eventual as the overtaking of
the poetess’ rare night by morning’s dawn,
completion of her work had now arrived.
Surprised to be so pleased,
the poetess discovered that all the while
she had been
delineating stars.
3/3/2011
For Mark Toney's the '2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 22' Poetry Contest
I find sanctuary in this sonnet
when as verdant hills rhymes do fall and rise
with aspens quaking in the windless skies.
One such will have blue birds flocking on it.
The trees shall be my muse and bid me write
while I in white gazebo am ensconced
with flowers vased, each color a nuance
in my lyrics, a-blush at first then white.
As I meander through a cloudless dream
the shades ever change in the wake of love.
Each line will fit my lyrics like a glove
while blue birds harmonize in morning's gleam.
Eyes of love are each an estuary
in the sonnet of this sanctuary.
Alone,
slicked with sweat,
and hearing the locusts’ cries
deep in my neck,
I stood over the remains
of Sal Paradise.
The spotty grass
around the tombstone
was browned and littered
with trodden Camel filters
and corroded bottle caps.
I reached into
my inspired rucksack
and discovered a Deutchmark,
forgotten like a sleepy drunk
at crowded a tavern.
I placed it on the granite,
amid the years
and a crusty half-empty
whiskey bottle
a different friend had left.
I hunched over the grave,
my head bowed,
but not really praying
or thinking about him.
And now I sit across the street,
seated by the window
in a little Italian restaurant.
I am the lone customer,
ensconced by piped-in light FM muzak.
This evening called passion
“Moonbeams now blushing ‘pon soft heavens ashen,
love flowing deeply, this evening called passion”
Ensconced in effervescent lingerings
sifting through moonlit seams
Soft flavored drippings of ecstasy
melting slowly within the fever
dancing across my skin
as your fingers trace
the outline of my deepest secrets,
mysteries lodged in seductive breaths
Your love my opiate, addictive enchantment
Stimulated senses heightened
Moon drenched quivers, silver lined
adrift on satin sighs
Floating delirious within
hypnotic eyes,
seducing my mind in eternal desires
Trance infused emotions
cling to each nuance of mesmeric longings
Swirling smoke ringlets
penetrate stardust cosmos,
culminating in sensual motions
atop gilded sheets
drenched of our rapture,
etched in euphoria
Two silhouettes entwined
on this evening called passion
Good night Soupers
Have a great weekend
See you on Monday
You were drawn to its contours
worn smooth by the elements
over eons of existence;
cream colored and streaked with grayish blue
with its scattering of sparkle -
ensconced in the sand
special amongst the many on the rocky beach
a souvenir from the shore
of the day we walked in its mist
and the wind blew our footsteps
this way and that way
as well as our thoughts
while we reminisced…
now..
it is where you left it;
stoic
and sentimental
it stands vigil
on the small windowsill
overlooking the pathway to my door
awaiting your return
my beloved daughter
...as it patiently endures
it is the perfect representation
of
my heart
Susan Ashley
July 30, 2018
Instant friends,
We hit it off so well
Mutual encouragement
Lives starting to gel
In an instant gone
As quickly as it started
Reasons why unknown
Left in waters unchartered
(Chorus)
Can you drop me a hint?
Can you offer a smidgen?
Was it something I said?
Could it be my religion?
Something I should’ve done,
Or anything I can do
To know the reasons
For losing you?
Good if we could talk
Suss out issues ensconced
I’ve tried to reach out
But received no response
Finally thought it best
To leave well enough alone
So hard to accept
A friendship turned to stone
(Chorus)
Can you drop me a hint?
Can you offer a smidgen?
Was it something I said?
Could it be my religion?
Something I should’ve done,
Or anything I can do
To know the reasons
For losing you?
4/26/2020
Photo by Mikael Kristenson on Unsplash
#10 on top 100 recent poems as of June 30, 2025
I see a dark cypress
towering in front of me
and behind it is a village
The tiny town
is wrapped in blue -
the blue of a night
that captures my imagination
a saffron crescent moon
and stars like balls
of miniature suns citrine-spiraled
wink at me
through yellow curly cues
I want to swirl with them
through the sky
which is water-color whorled
a steeple church
and houses sapphire-hued
sit ensconced beneath
undulating hills
fed by comfort -
I wish to snuggle
inside this scene
with Vincent’s stars
dancing in the vortex
of my slumbering mind
Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
~Langston Hughes
The clouds spill a thousand secrets
but keep ten thousand regrets
ensconced within the billowy frames
of a life lived with all its shames.
The shame of greed,
the shame of need,
the shame of selfishness,
the shame that leads to wretchedness.
I’ve been told that clouds are wise
and provide the waters to baptize,
drown the sins that keep us bound
And set our feet on higher ground.
"Intense Interlude"
in sweet magical moment
deep mesmerizing gaze
kidnapped his heart, in Time,
extending fragrant flowers
she smiled, through haunting hazel eyes
in translucent vapor mist
visual aromatic ambiance
ensconced emotions
beyond whispered words
as beauty bewitched
a charming interlude
love captivated by essence of inhaled eye-candy.
*Blending of sight and smell senses.
*For Nette Onclaud's Synesthesia: Inner Body Movement Contest.
*Written by: Linda-Marie The "Sweetheart" of P.S.
*Nov. 18, 2012.
The Burning
It was seven days and seven nights
Or there abouts, I was not so sure
Life was shrouded in the darkness not at all pure
I lost track of dawn, of dusk, of realities fight
To keep me conscious
To keep me right
Comatose, delirious, unmoving slumber
In this dream like state
My desires still existed
Thirsts to be quenched
Passions flared
She was seductively dressed
I, with the eye of a tiger
Wishing to devour her being
To be with her, in her, be her
To taste her very soul
I smelled her nectars inviting scent
The bed sheets become drenched in sweat
The heat of the night ensconced me
A thousand candles and yet one more burned
The heat of passion mixed with the heat of the night
Flames rose from the desires within and without
My subconscious has played evil tricks and fooled me again
Lighting the candles that shall bring me to the beyond
The sheets became brimstone, the fire engulfed me
My mind in hazy confusion smelled roast flock of some sort
A meal after the passions was a succulent dessert
I became dizzy with the lust and the love intermixed
Somehow I am sleepy, dreamy, so very tired
The heat blankets me and I feel a strange foreboding
The reaper is grinning, staring down on my face
I try to wake, but I haven’t the wherewithal
I feel the burning
Painful for but a moment as the smokey flames take me
For one last dance
Burning, burning, searing heat
Blackened and burnt
Dreams
No more
Sunday, at 24 minutes past midnight, firetrucks arrived at an apartment in Dublin, Ireland 24 O’Connell street, and above Murrays pub, a lone tenant was found burnt to a crisp, apparently by a fire cause by candles, the remains have not been identified, and the building is a total loss.
Arthur’s Day in Dublin
Posted on September 24, 2009
To celebrate Arthur’s Day, From 17:59 to 22:00 All Pints of draft beers were €2.50
Unyielding stone, the furniture
au naturel, no dress lace tablecloth
concealing ants scavenging our picnic lunch. Loathe
are we to flick them while they steal our cheese and crackers.
Siblings ensconced, diffused canopy of oak
umbrellas, searing sun bewitches charming shadows;
clover, petals three and sometimes four, meadows
pleasant carpets cradling this resolute rock.
These stones echo cries reverberating past
more than a century's memorializing years
when other siblings set swords upon this grave frontier
in armies blue and gray amassed.
Immortal the crashing clash, bone against bone,
at Gettysburg to keep this nation one.
Faye Lanham Gibson