Best Ensues Poems
The wind billows out from the seat of his britches
With determined blue eyes, skinned knuckles and knees
he climbs up the rails nailed from old cedar pieces
to the uppermost yoke of an old pecan tree
He is Captain on board, in pretend salty breezes
From his perch in the bird's nest, the world's in his view
A small town boy, who has never seen oceans
sails a fantasy vessel, where his wishes come true
The tall cornstalks stand duty, in the weedy-field waters
He breaks off a branch and a sword fight ensues..
He says "Tally Ho...Land Ahoy!!" to his crew
Dogs are barking below. He must shout out a warning
"There are sharks all around, so his shipmates must heed!"
He is Master Commander, the ruler of nations
He dreams of adventure from his loft in the tree
As he watches the clouds sail across a blue sea
Till his mother calls him in, for his suppertime leave
~
Well, little boys grow, and a childhood will fade
The leaf of the pecan, no longer holds shade
Now a stump of the tree, is all that is left
Yet the memory still thrives, so deep in his breast
When the weight of the world comes tumbling down
He visits this place with the stump in the ground
The rings wrap around him, to take him aboard
To a ship from his childhood, a place he adored
Tonight he will sleep in a bed of contentment
From his bunk he will dream he is sailing the seas
Tomorrow he'll climb up the steps to his vessel
Tomorrow he'll be where the eagles fly free....
...........................................................................................................
It starts with only one -
one like me
a melancholy migrant
from the immortal part of her
to the locus of her physical being --
the center of her emotional wisdom
I gain heartfelt strength as I gather my forces
rising up en masse
riding cresting waves of woe
to breach the ramparts -
the welling rims
of her loving eyes
it starts with only one -
one perfectly ripened drop of sorrow
this beautifully packaged pain
and a lustrous cascade of soulful pearls ensues
wept gems pouring forth from a pure heart..
I am the tears your mother cries.
Susan Ashley
May 5, 2018
~ Poem Of The Week ~
Week beginning Sunday, May 13, 2018
~ Seventh Place ~
Contest: Early May Premiere (2018)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Poet's note; For my beautiful daughter, Jocelyn, you inspire me with your light, joy, spirited determination and intellect. Though your academic pursuits take you many, many miles away from me and I grieve your absence, when you return home I shall celebrate with tears of joy!
For today, however, I'll let my grieving tears speak for themselves...
I love you and I miss you, my Jocee <3
Everyday is beautiful, son,
and no that's not being optimistic.
You're here - you're alive - with one more day on your plate.
That's just being realistic.
Tuesdays are for Tenderness, for the little things found beneath the rubble:
a flower peeking or a new-dream seeking, even though its subtle.
Wednesdays are for Wishes --- like hoping on that pretty, pretty star,
for something just around the corner is never all that far.
And Thursdays are for Thoughtfulness, on those reflective afternoons,
where all of life hangs between your ears, as your heart struggles to make room
for all the love that's bursting inside of you ...
(I know it's there!
hiding somewhere ... perhaps beneath the dirt and muck)
Fridays are for Friendship --- to the ones who you know true,
and hold you oh so close, despite all of life's various hues.
Saturdays are for Sanctification from all of distraction's clutter;
an occasion to make small your piece of toast, for there's too much of time's butter,
spreading oh so thin on Little You.
And Sundays are for Sunflowers, and the smile that ensues on even the coldest soul.
Treasure it child, if you ever see it bloom, for she's a fragile beauty that makes you whole.
Yes, my son ... EVERY day is beautiful, and Mondays especially,
for that's the day we praise our Mothers,
for giving birth to us at such a time as this (God knows it wasn't easy)
And no, I don't need to see the Seven Wonders,
to know how beautiful life can be,
for I've got all the splendor I can handle ...
... seven days a week.
Image Used: The I Hate Mondays T-Shirt Picture
Written April 10th, 2016
For the Images Contest Hosted by Silent One
Cool raindrops kiss my cheeks
A warm breeze rises within me
As I recall the moments
Which linger in my heart forever
The pulsating sphere of light and dark
Polar opposite lovers in the circle of life
Encompassing magnificent visceral nuances
Infinite shades of gray, slate, and steel
With mauve interludes
An elegant intimate tapestry
Complete with tears of joy and pain
Sharing love and grief
Gazing upwards I join my brothers and sisters
On jagged bare branches
As cool wind rustles our feathers
The white hawks, eagles, vultures, and their tribes
The birds of prey who gather
Sharing tales of their journeys through time
We all stare out
Our senses prickling with anticipation
A silence hovers
A shared glimpse
A collective inhale
Our ears and hearts awaken
Virgin raindrops fall on thirsty ferns
Their limey tendrils outstretched
Quenched in gratitude
A low rumble
Footsteps below
A clearing in the forest
Created by children gathering
Giggles and dust rise
Excited young mouths
Speaking in pantomime
Gesturing with kind intentions
Young creatures of the world kingdom
Unconcerned with language barriers
Sharing evolving consciousness
A wink of an eye
Hands on chest - feeling our heartbeats
Laughter emanating from within little bellies
Spinning freely in circles
Arms outstretched wide, heart open and exposed
Vulnerable in delight and anticipation
A low cello vibrates nearby
A gentle breeze rustles leaves
Which float in the air embracing light rays
Mesmerizing all
Pine boughs perform shadow puppet dances
On cascading rock walls nearby
Elders lean contently against tree trunks
Smiles slowly emerging as silent tears flow
A young child skips over
Tenderly grabbing her grandfather’s arm
Opening his hand, she plants a wet kiss
On his age-stained palm
Then gazes up at his toothy grin
Before returning to the gathering
Wild beasts arrive and quiet
Kneeling by water’s edge
To drink and watch
Hands clasp
A sharing ensues
A vibration rises
As souls gather
Radiating light and hope to all
She's going outside her comfort zone
Why would she leave her safe cell
Life has come with promises from the birth moment
Of a light at the end of the tunnel
The pain that ruin causes falls deep into the darkness
There is no need to be afraid
Every day and every night
Refuse to love, nightmares and dark shadows from the past
A constant fight ensues between her heart and mind
No questions nor any answers ... emptiness
She lets the cold breeze guide her thoughts
Moments define themselves regardless
Right here helpless, silent and breathless
Dreaming by candlelight and paper lanterns
Brilliantly defined and silhouetted, and so brightly lit
When the curtains open and music plays
Fluttering wings of magic sails on cloud nine
Flashing golden memories held within the dome
Happiness enchanting spells a heavenly rays smiles
Open arms warmly embracing sighs inside waves turn keys
One song faraway rising tides brushing sands
In the basin seed of love nourished with beauty
Eden's fruit once bitten when rose blossoms
Sweetly summer sun dances in the horizon
Kissing beams drifting faraway holding paradise
Walking inside the moonlight shadows of daydreams
Winds whispering honey coating chants your tune
Written by L. Mcdaid & A-L Andresen :) 20.05.2015
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September, you are a wistful song
Summer sheds a tear when you come along
Sunny summer melodies yield to your mellow song
Its melody fades while yours grow strong
Summer ends and a certain sadness ensues
Sunny days make way for winter blues
September gives us glimpses of summer
Though days be short and golden leaves slumber
The vibrant colors September brings
disguise the coming winter sting
As summer dies it makes one last sunny stand
But will return, for thats how it was planned
Until then we must endure a harsh season
All bundled up, keeping warm is the reason
When the first snow falls
The pristine beauty leaves us enthralled
Soon summer will begin anew
Gray clouds make way for skies of blue
We awaken from our winter slumber
And welcome the butterflies of summer
For Joanne Grisetti's Copy Cat contest
:Inspired by the poem: September
Which was written by: Andrea Dietrich
Blackened clouds roll in
While overtaking the skies
Feeling the anger in the air
Growls takeover the sighs
Ominous feelings of disaster
Now pending on the horizon
Atmosphere reeks bitterness
A fury there's no comparison
Darkness is cut with flashes
Rumbling fury fills ones ears
The storm rages on no mercy
Soon the clouds release tears
The storms undeniable wrath
Takes it's toll upon the earth
A battle that ensues unending
Cleansing the land with rebirth
Twilight comes in lavender hues
And beckons the moon to arise
The owl is there each sound to hear
The night's alive, its song ensues
Fireflies in flight, glows of delight
Blinking through wooded avenues
In the moonlit shadow of trees
The night echoes with the owl's whoos
With silent wings the owl now flies
Each sound to hear the owl is there
To capture its prey by surprise
3-16-2021
Abracadabra March Magic Contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula
8 Syllables per line, Checked with PS syllable counter
In the hall of clocks and mirrors,
Winds of time bring fragrant whispers,
Of midnights of magic moonlight,
And reflections of past delights!
Of golden days when lost in blooms,
And dancing joy in summer rooms!
A blur of green in woodland scene,
And the purple twilights velveteen.
Time's reversed to infinity,
As ensues with sweet memory.
And heartsongs waft, out of mauve mists,
And all life's seasons coexist!
As imperfection fills our lives
perfection, we crave still
I think about just what it means
and how it pains our will
The quest for what does not exist
the drive to make it right
The disappointment that ensues
at how we lose the fight
The chip that flaws my favorite bowl
may bother me and yet
It simply adds to stories past
and one I won’t forget
The ding, the dent, the thread that bares
the soul that loses trust
They still have value in the love
that thrives and so we must
Consider how the chip relates
to life and love and soul
It’s just a piece of what we are
and not what makes us whole
wings could drive you crazy
under the overpass, the crows
gather one by one, flapping
it is a perfect day, stuck underneath
where cars borrow the bird’s view
without a whisper or toll, torrent
of landings to complete the murder
the row, on an inner ledge, legible
perhaps eligible to a mate, could be
a male society or female offering
we who pass so quickly, only stopping
for a light or traffic jamming, see
what flies in the dark, in the face
we are the ones out of place
the fury of the flock, frenetics
relics, energetic, spot on sketchy
do they see some of the same old
cars? do they care or turn a blind eye
i haven’t forgotten but what does it matter?
it does because a poetic fuse ensues
and must in the end die out, forgotten
except by the rear end reader
who will extend the imagery for a blink
or think a deja vu when flocking with crows
in trees, on lines, under the overpass
"Fishing Adventure"
fishing is a sport of supreme relaxation
beneath golden Sun with great anticipation
while warm water is quiet
fish feast on worm diet
as the boat gently sways in utter fascination.
soon the fishing pole jerks on thin line
a sweet catch on which two hearts will dine
once a struggle ensues
other fish sing the blues
top things off with a bottle of wine.
surprise this fish was a white shark sea beast
run for your life, no fish feast
jaws revisited blue wave
adventure in a cold cave
lived to tell this tale of terror, at least.
*For Seren Robert's Fisherman Contest.
*Dec. 1, 2012.
She's going outside her comfort zone
Why would she leave her safe cell
Life has come with promises from the birth moment
Of a light at the end of the tunnel
The pain that ruin causes falls deep into the darkness
There is no need to be afraid
Every day and every night
Refuse to love, nightmares and dark shadows from the past
A constant fight ensues between her heart and mind
No questions nor any answers ... emptiness
She lets the cold breeze guide her thoughts
Moments define themselves regardless
Right here helpless, silent and breathless
Dreaming by candlelight and paper lanterns
Brilliantly defined and silhouetted, and so brightly lit
When the curtains open and music plays
Fluttering wings of magic sails on cloud nine
Flashing golden memories held within the dome
Happiness enchanting spells a heavenly rays smiles
Open arms warmly embracing sighs inside waves turn keys
One song faraway rising tides brushing sands
In the basin seed of love nourished with beauty
Eden's fruit once bitten when rose blossoms
Sweetly summer sun dances in the horizon
Kissing beams drifting faraway holding paradise
Walking inside the moonlight shadows of daydreams
Winds whispering honey coating chants your tune
Written by L. Mcdaid & A-L Andresen :) 20.05.2015
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Car doors slam, country quiet broken
A race ensues… front door flies open
Dogs start barking, excitedly running
A happy day... grandsons are coming
Overnight bags in a flash are dropped
Energy released can never be stopped
"Papaw! Momo! We're here!" they yell
All that is missing is a ringing doorbell
Hugs, big smiles, checking all rooms
We stay mostly outside all afternoon
A walk up the driveway for a short hike
Playing on porch or riding their bikes
At supper they tell all that they know
Story after story and swear it is so
Baths, snacks, teeth brushed and bed
Tucked in kisses after prayers are said
Tired dogs look at us with questioning eyes
Is this temporary or for the rest of our lives?
Beside each child they settle for the night
On alert for a sign something's not right
Exhausted, we smile at our pride and joys
Grateful to have this time with the boys
8/10/16
Pure Childlike Fun and Enthusiasm Contest by Carin Krutsinger
Third Place - June 2018
Along the baseboard in a small kitchen
there is a tiny hole, the perfect size to go
unnoticed, perfect for a secret hideaway.
Little twin girls imprisoned at the table
not allowed to leave unless those cold
olive green peas are completely gone!
Canned peas, that had a bit of the flavor
of the tin can infused into them, pushed
around the plate in a marble shoot.
When is she going to leave the kitchen,
quit watching, stop repeating, "eat every one!"
Salty tears dropping on the plate, incapable
of adding any flavor as an hour passes and
little heads are laying on the table beside
the plate with those cursed tiny vegetables
staring back with their small green eyes.
She has to take a trip to the toilet, this must
be timed just right...half the peas leave the plates
and are scooted into the tiny hole in the wall.
She returns, unaware of the subterfuge.
Admonishment causes more tears and little
voices pleading, "they're almost gone". "Not good
enough, finish them or you stay here all night!"
A guardian angel makes the phone ring and she
leaves to answer it. Two little girl's plates quickly
converge upon the tiny hole that gobbles up the
last of those dreaded cold green peas.
She returns and the ordeal is finally over, with
her none the wiser, until a few weeks pass and
she keeps trying to find the smelly odor coming
from the kitchen. She follows her nose to the
secret hideaway exposing the rotted peas.
Infuriation welds up within and then out comes
the razor strap and a painful dance ensues.
© Connie Marcum Wong