Best Evenings Poems
aye …
on such
divine evenings, thus,
are perfect odes not freely spun?
the Perseids, dancing their
jocund jigs -
capricious, evanescent stripes of
golden ire under a tapestry
of wonders …
watching rapt, ever-attentive,
streaking, burning ephemeral, as if the
gods themselves trace their
fingertips gently on
a phosphorescent brine …
but this, yet,
a sea of suns, amaranthine …
I wonder, could it be …
they are fleeting?
the hopes of idle angels, perhaps,
dying bright in the veil of Zion -
plunging to the earth
as if mortal …
perchance, they're pearls of Sol -
strands of liquid morning,
to adorn, pure, the breast of Heaven …
could be …
they're forsaken souls -
lost spirits, given one last chance to
burn their id on the firmament …
or even yet …
the wondrous wishes of children,
sparking to life in the midst of
their deepest dreaming,
and then … gone …
oh, surely,
it must be that,
their bright, momentary glory can
be meant for ONLY such
tender fancies,
the imaginings of youth,
the one fit and worthy vessel for
such runes …
and I, but their ever-willing caretaker …
picking each one from
the fiery vault like precious
gems from a parcel,
and plopping them, sweet,?
into the deep, soft pocket of my joys … thus,
on such divine evenings ...
aye!
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Shooting Stars" Poetry Contest, Nayda Ivette Negron, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Your Choice (5), Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "2019 Poetry Marathon Mile One" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Cosmos" Poetry Contest, Thvia Shetley, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "Spring" Poetry Contest, Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.
~ Poem of the Day ~ on Poetry Soup.com, awarded August 7, 2017.
Used to live in
Strasbourg:
9, Quai de Paris.
The piers in that
city
Were on canals.
Window flower boxes
On Alsatian cafes,
Choucroute garnie
entres
With onion tartes.
Venders sell hot
chestnuts
In Orangerie park.
I'd sight-see after
dark
La Petite France.
Notes: Choucroute
garnie is sauerkraut
slow cooked with
Riesling white wine,
potatoes, ham,
sausages, and
cloves. Tarte a
l’oignon is also an
Alsatian specialty.
La Petite France is
the canal district
that had many
tanneries which now
are tourist shops
and high-end
restaurants
Evenings Light
Late afternoon, rainbow colours slither across my floor,
climbs up and over my audio, my video equipment,
streaks across the covers – between which family history lies
and lights up the frames, the pictorial history before my eyes.
Mother Nature’s breath, dances shadows of forest foliage
- with Father Suns refracted rays, his rainbow children,
his multi shaped Silhouettes, shadows of animated still life -
all throughout, permeating my four cornered room
as they sway, rock, weave, dance, crawl across my walls,
walls holding onto my history, my family’s history
as we look down upon me, me in games of solitaire.
As am I, and wonder why ?, there is no dance of life
in here, except from that which comes on light waves,
floating through – reflections of forest shadows,
refractions of light ( heavens rainbow children ) –
my living, dining room, my prison window.
( B. J. “A ” 2 )
May 3rd 2006
Summer evenings stroll on
With their melodies strong
And their playful wishes well-fed
Sunsets arrive in full glory
With a daring, keen story
Reluctant to cast us to bed
The skies blush and they croon
Kiss hello to the moon
and blossom in purple and red
Beautiful horizons on the Earths hemisphere
Leaning backward gently make my worries disappear
Words said softly with a new attitude
The sun sets softly in a west worldly mood
Cotton candy colors blend till their blued
All Gods time well spent after a hot afternoon
Hot pinkish shadows follow gray clouds scoon
We're waiting for the rain that is coming soon
Watching the wondrous sunset
Coming up over the edge of the world
And waiting for the moon
07-14-2012 Ruth Courtney
Babies cry, sleep, change nappies, feed. Toddlers drink water from cups. Younger brothers, younger sister, older brother, older sister, small town, large country.
One lane roads, one lane bridges, unsealed, 60mph, in the dark. Bush covered gorges, rail lines across the river, small waterfalls, windows down, no seatbelts in the back seat, lying down, sleeping on the rugs, stopping for carsick ones on the edges. Mum singing, Dad driving, children counting dead possums.
The ways into town run through a long winding gorge or a longer winding coastal road, both prone to slips. Nearest cities Christchurch, Nelson, 200 miles away. Only referred to as the Coast, with its own dialect, only belonging when born there.
Biscuits four trays, oven
Bread hot water cupboard rising, Dad late
Holden Kingswood written off, dead bull
Packs, boots, carbide lamps, white fizzy hosing down leggings, parkas, gumboots, bikes, back porch full.
Flames warm quality coal
Sheet lightening children’s window race
Nothing more calming than the thunder of the rain.
Atoms and Evenings
Darkness and light was.
Upon primordial waters,
Divided. Then, life…
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
November 30, 2009
Summer Evenings
_______________
I always enjoy summer evenings.
When the heat of the day is replaced with late afternoon shore breeze or with a thunder storm that rolls across the evening sky.
Especially when the day light sky transforms from a bright blue to a rainbow of colors with the fading sunlight on the evening horizon.
A time when daily life begins to slow down, and summer evening events take priority.
A period of time away from the stress of the day events.
To grill on the deck or play baseball or work in the yard.
Or to sit out on the deck and observe our surroundings.
Spending time with our family and friends.
Realizing that within a few hours the shadows of night will spread over the landscape.
Along with the unique sounds of the evening.
When crickets began chirping, and nocturnal creatures awaken.
While lighting bugs and dragonflies dance across the yard and among the flower beds.
With a unique show of miniature lights flashing and dancing .
Remembering back as a, adolescent catching them in a jar, just to release them prior to bedtime.
One of many great adventures as a child during summer evenings.
Soon our evening routine will come to a end as the night passes on.
Finding our favorite chair and a cold beverage.
While exhaustion sets in, leading us to falling a sleep.
A wonderful way to end a summer evening.
O9/12: 15
Paul W Arnold
My Evenings With a Mouse
Once I shared my evenings with a mouse
By cliff face tall in tiny house
By Fraser river flow, near Chilliwack
By a truckers’ café I had my shack
One room, kitchen nook, and can,
Not enough for a married man.
Away from home five days a week.
I thought I was alone, but then - I
Found scat near breadbox tin
Found shavings near, and shredded socks.
And then a visitor let out a squeak
Bulging eyes and bristled nose
It stood upright, chin touched toes.
Were we lonely, would we find compassion?
Next four days I served supper to companion
Crumbs, pork, pasta and milk
Before I headed home to lingerie in silk.
Set out meat, cheese, fries, bread leftovers
Made it good for rodent stay-overs.
Returned, I found the timorous creature
Had met a most dastardly departure
It had looked for a watering hole.
Now it floated, dead and toilet-bloated
It seemed crude just to flush it away
So I carried it out for burial on a silver tray.
How I love the shorter evenings, fire burning, lamps aglow.
Sunburn and dry sandwiches are seeming long ago.
The leaves already fallen and the trees completely bare,
The snow is pretty on the ground and winter's in the air.
I've had a hearty breakfast, there's a casserole to cook,
I'm watching television and I've finished off my book.
It's feeling like a holiday, I'm seeing all my friends,
The day has no beginning and I hope it never ends ................................
These long dark nights are killing me, they're making me depressed,
I hate my old pyjamas and I really must get dressed.
The fire is spitting sparks at me and burning all in sight,
The lamps remind me of a cave, please just turn on the light.
The snow seems to be daring me to venture out of door,
It's ten feet high, it's freezing cold, it's never gonna thaw.
My friends have eaten all my food and left me on my own,
I've finished every book I have, the television's blown.
I'm yearning for the summertime. I'm longing to be hot,
If ever I say winter's nice. Just shoot me on the spot.
28 January 2013.
Laying on the trampoline, the sky is closing another day
despite the chill we are reading outside, the school books closed
flipping the pages of a glossy magazine perfumed pages waft around
living in a never-ending land of time
sun has gone down
the fireflies never dance anymore
she fiddles with her three charmed bracelet
a scotch bottle, a dancing bear, a lady's shoe
street lights come on quarter after five
headlights flood Angelica's brain
flooded dry she takes a chip from our bag
laying on her back and sighs "Did you see that star"?
the house beside ours
up far from us, a lady looks down in a pink night robe and shuts her curtains
the stars wink at us
the night tastes sour as a jawbreaker
sweet in the center
Winds allay into an easing breeze
Befriending with earlies eve
This soothing shade
That mends the healing soul,
The light of darkness
A childs un-crying
To all the astray and unattended,
To all the guarded and befriended,
A gesture is given;
Not unlike the softness
Within the evenings breeze
THE CHOICE
HE WAS asleep
Between space and time
The first light on the world
Floated idly
On him
He was just born.
His folded hands
Glowed a pale pink
To keep the fire of life
He wondered if he was really awake.
Is it the true world?
Is it the true village?
Is it the true nest?
He kept kicking
And cried like a scared owl.
God trod to the next village.
COUNTLESS
Oh said the voice
Let me kiss you
Let me go in the fairy way
Let me love you earth
Overly cautious she crouched
Over a street strewn with splinters
S o confusing for a fairy
She approached a dark alley
Full of vermin and dead
So confusing for her noble nose
We call it miscarriage in our land
She said and picked up intruder’s naked smell
Leftover of yesterday’s predation
She did not move
She was crippled in an unknown fear
The emotion alien to a fairy
I want to love you
But you will kill me
That she said and flew all the way
Across hellhole and slammed into a tree
Still young, bright, full of promises
Though clawed by vampire birds
She moved in sense of rekindling
I’m glad, I’m sure I’m glad,
I am in the fairy way
Because I came down to love
EVENING
Evening slipped out of the cave
Crossed the rock wall
And buried the city in soft kisses
Sun god‘s dripping soup
Gave her child a sunset glow
She went back to her cave
To sleep, to grow
HATES
Hates were slipping through my fingers
Little ones burning like midday sun
When they cooled made garnets for my sisters.
ANCIENT CAT GOD
An ancient cat god
Slammed down to my house
Went out with a sperm-whale
Harpooned by the mouse
A GRUFF FISH
Tara, I liked her so much
As a fish and as a friend
So in the Sunday night supper
She had made a double-end.
She was gruff fish after all
In night-supper it took its toll
Tara, I liked her so much
So I wrote this story on the bark of Birch
I gave a tabby cat one ounce of gold
That’s the way the story was told
Autumn is waiting in the wings,
hiding discretely among trees,
in plaintive music a bird sings,
coaxing a ride on a cool breeze.
Summer, reluctant to cede day
Autumn is waiting in the wings.
Finally gives the nights away
to crisp breezes that Autumn brings.
Autumn offers gifts of gold rings
to match Summer's soft, golden hair.
Autumn is waiting in the wings
Summer blows kisses on warm air.
Autumn, in gowns of red and gold
will be queen, altho Summer clings.
As she leaves, her story now told
Autumn is waiting in the wings.
August 18,2022
for Hint of Autumn contest
by Regina McIntosh
howmanysyllables.com=8
With evening comes melancholy , barefoot and unannounced ; cloaked in a reddish yellow tinge of dawn. It snatches away all mirth and stares at you while you sulk and frown.
Permeating your heart , like in winters through the trees you see the mist seep , until from every corner of your mind the old memories creep.
It keeps record of everything you best thought to forget , opening one after another like chapters in a booklet.
Bringing you the best ones first , the moments that make you smile with joy ; not knowing it's your enemy in guise you give in to it's deceitful ploy.
And soon it makes you realize that the people you love have gone , you can see them no more. You tell everybody how they still carry on living in your heart while in truth there is nothing but a sore.
The ones who are living are not the same anymore ; unfortunately the moments spent with them are etched in your heart like an old folklore.