Best Feathered Poems
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.
This is my humble tribute to our dear Soup member Constance La France, using some of her poem titles. This is, again, inspired by the "Title Wave" contest that was sponsored by our Soup member Richard Lamoureux last year. Thank you Richard Lamoureux for the inspiration and thank you dear Constance for the wonderful titles in pages and pages of poems you had contributed to Soup and I enjoyed writing this. I wish that I/we find time to read more of the beautiful inspiring poems of Constance, that she has contributed to Soup. (Below, the titles I have used for this tribute for Constance are in quotes. I have not capitalized the words within the titles as they were.)
"In my dreamy spring garden",
I often hear the "melody of dawn".
"The birds call me" as they know
how much I revel in listening to their songs.
When I close my eyes, at times, I hear
"the fluttering feather" of birds and I feel
they wish to chit-chat with me.
"Wandering in nature" in my dreamy garden
"where memories linger"
I see the "sunrise, gold and yellow":
a "breathtaking" view indeed.
"In meadows of sun", I see
a beautiful "hummingbird"
rapidly "fluttering" his translucent wings
"oh! sweet hummer".
As "the beauty of birds" enthrall me,
in a sweet corner of a tree branch,
two "birds in love" were preening each other
"oh! happy spring".
The fine "tapestry of nature"
as seen in my enchanting garden
invites all kinds of birds
with bright colourful "feathers".
My garden is a safe haven for birds
"where the bluebirds sing".
My soul is soothed by the sweet song of "nightingale".
"A bird of green is singing",
Aw! what a melody -
"Oh, the echo of birds chirping" and
the warble of "the bird vireo"
bring harmony here to stay:
"A gang of sparrows"
are seen "flying in the sky"
"oh! how heavenly"
now, "I would like to fly away", along with them!
Date: 01/17/2022
In a room that once commanded great respect,
stage lights began to hiss with heated anticipation.
There were sounds of alcohol infused rumblings
and laughter rolling through the rows of seats
from the tongues of young fancies whose foibles
await the reverence paid to tales that may last
a lifetime.
A baritone voice boomed in imposing prominence
that demanded attention. With such articulation,
trained by years of experience spent in circus tents
and speakeasies, the once proud barker's monologue
cracked from age and fifty years of bad whisky.
He had a past filled with evil deeds and dashed hopes,
but on he stumbled as the introduction to tonight's
show surged from his lips.
A young lady emerged mid-stage from behind a curtain.
A single spotlight bathed her every titillation,
perfectly choregraphed to a pulsing rhythm.
All eyes were fixated as imaginations were provoked
beyond reality. The white feathers of her costume
teased senses and libidos raged while she strutted,
ending with a peek that would even give a preacher
reason to pause.
As the lights dimmed and the cat calls subsided,
backstage an old women picked up her broom and slumped
upon a stool. A tear fell, caressing her weathered cheek.
Breathless, after performing the dance she'd practiced
a thousand times, the young women took her final
curtain call to an uproarious standing ovation.
As she dashed toward the dressing room,
the old woman rose from her stool and the two embraced.
The joyful exuberance was that of a child at Christmas.
Her voice cracked as she exclaimed,
"I haven't felt this alive .
in fifty years!
"My dear sister, may I wear this enchanted costume
again after your next show?" "May I, May I,"
the young girl implored.
"Of course", the old woman replied,
"twins share everything."
C.W.S.
03/25/2020
I open the cemetery gate and walk a winding path
the ancient trees sway and reach out for me as I go
I pass mazes of headstones
like time feathered in stone
there is an unwritten absence within me
so many unspoken words
unvarnished words
there are things isolated within my heart
things I need to express
but I feel in my soul that you already knew
how I felt and loved you
though I did not say aloud
I reach the place of tears
the stone that is engraved with your names
I always find the experience spiritual
and feel an otherworldly magic come over me
names and dates in stone
but nothing of the people and bones recorded
we are in different realms beloved
absent from each other
yet connected by a love that death cannot remove
afar, distant, and separate
oh, hope you know how much I loved each of you
each soul unique and beautiful to me
my words are not written but verbally uttered
absent of ego
so, I sit on the grass for many hours
and speak my authentic words
sometimes, we are silent
and I weep with long woven emotions
oh the memories like daggers sting
as birds sing me a beautiful unending symphony
and the wind whistles in the trees
and the leaves murmur as they swirl and twirl
such a peaceful place to rest in peace
I feel your tranquility sublime
I will be with you one day
it is the natural progression of humanity
dust to dust and birth to death
earth to heaven the journey complete
home at last . . .
Tethered, Weathered and Feathered
Whom is that man who got tethered?
Looks like he is overly well weathered
Oh my, he really, really got feathered.
Written: July 17, 2015
Theresa Marie W-C
On Feathered Wings
dispatched to heaven
on feathered wings of angels…
a child’s fervent prayers
Inspired by SKAT A’s contest.
Feathered Seasons
Peering out of the nest
newly budded tree limb swaying
jostling me as I await
the early bird of spring
returning with breakfast.
Dust-dancing in the heat
testing my wings
in cat stalked gardens
leaving home
at mother’s request.
Dodging the blowing leaves
red crested trees mimic me
as I revel in ripened plenty
puffing feathers in the coolness
of a new felt stirring.
The wind no longer cradles me
in weakened warmth of sun’s
long shadowed departure.
I fly to a known – unknown
drawn by a distant calling.
4/3/2015
submitted to – Seasons – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Shadow Hamilton
Nature be my religion;
Prayer be my dominion.
Words felt but unwritten;
In fields of green and crimson.
I am a dreamer and a drifter;
A non–conformist, resister.
The wind is my whisper;
And the moonlight my sister.
I wear flowers in my hair;
Quote Shakespeare and Voltaire.
Have no qualms to swear;
Can make peace or warfare.
I prefer the solitude;
Depending on my mood.
But if a smile be the prelude;
Another may intrude.
The songs I sing are old;
The stories all foretold.
In tradition I enfold;
My blessings, manifold.
Two worlds, present and past;
Dwelling within the contrast.
Enigma or social miscast;
Artistry of life enthusiast.
Born to late;
To change the world's fate.
Too early to liberate;
Just in time to celebrate.
As storm clouds appear;
Between two world's frontier.
I look to those I most revere;
The prophet and the seer.
As we enter the eye of the storm;
The birds of prey become worn.
But in the early hours of the morn;
Sparrow's and crow's flight is born.
Center in the midst;
Find your balance to persist.
Take a hand, release a fist;
We're right on time to co–exist.
Silently, he stood on the edge of a mirrored pool
For breakfast, he'd have to do a bit of wading
The egret's feathered image I wanted to capture
among wild cattails at this early morning hour.
He seemed to sense that I was watching him.
Stilted legs twitched, poised to take flight
but I was still as overhead, clouds hovered...
whiter yet, than this egret of the morning.
His regal head suddenly turned my way
but I dared not move, not to frighten him away.
His long, graceful neck turned from side to side,
as he tried to figure out if I was something to fear.
He took a stride towards me and then stopped.
A ripple on the pool caused him to change direction.
Breakfast was being served and so, he ate his fill.
I quickly sketched what I knew I'd have to paint.
Feathered Dreams
snapshots of a moment
pebbles in a pond
ripplings
of a life
stirring the surface
ruffling feathered
perch bound
dreams
©12/25/2017
submitted to – contest 380 ANY FORM OR NONE, ANY THEME
Have you ever seen a duck come in to land… on land
It’s an eventuality that nature never planned
For ducks that land on water such a graceful splashdown make
But should they land on terra firma… it sure ain’t Swan Lake
Each one does a belly flop, a cartwheel and a stagger
They get up and compose themselves, but ducks weren’t made to swagger
They have no shame so simply waddle with ungainly gait
Toward the back door of my house where they all stand and wait
This morning there were six of them, I watched them all crash down
“They’ll need a pint or two of seed,” I muttered with a frown
Their heads were first to hit the deck, their rumps stuck in the air
I went out with a jug of seed to find them gathered there
As I stepped outside I felt like Moses on the shore
The ducks made space for me to walk and not a hair’s breadth more
Two partridges were standing by and I also fed those
And when the pecking finished, well, I almost checked my toes.
Bird seed by the quarter-gallon gobbled up each time
I wouldn’t mind but it ain’t half a kilo for a dime
But it gives me pleasure and as I stood there this morn
Two more kamikaze ducks crash landed on my lawn.
A baby bird fell from a tree
Right in front of mini-me,
He tried to fly but every lift
He fell back down and ran quite swift.
The mother of the baby bird
Fed it’s beak upon the earth,
Guiding it back up the tree
Then there was another three…
Birds…
The baby bird heard family calls
Climbed up and up with many falls,
Head held high it squawked *cheep cheep*
Then baby bird fell fast asleep.
Mini Me brought water fast
For H20 out there is vast,
Seeds we placed upon the tree
To help the birdie family.
What can we do? not much more
for birds that are so premature,
The dear little thing; our new feathered friend
To the sky you will transcend.
Tranquil thoughts
breathing
of slow kissed sights
comforted
in expelling this light
languorous trembled gaze
A mask promising nothing
yet yearning to taste
now pushed aside
Risking this pull
stakes everything
Claims made
forever washing
though tears of ecstasy
now rolling free of
ducted bliss
trailed warmth of
cored beings
exquisite dripping
yets
Serenades of wanting
traveling through blood
as feather breathes
brushed lightness
thieves strength
floating in
washes of joyed right
Unaltered and bare
lured to charm
unhooked to potent need
she is lost
Silkily softness crushed in satin
drawn to slither tight
set free to embrace
crystal screams
shattered
in feathers graced might
Masked
to be nothing
revealed
in breathlessness
"feathered dreams"
you appear as only you can
breezing in softly as a feather
whispering sounds of a bird and
with angelic love shown through
each night before closing my eyes
I wish hard waiting to see you
asking still to hear your voice
just as a cardinal there you are
lasting footprints clearly remain
as your essence forever shadows me
guiding me from what was to what is
and the reality of how we were one
on any given night I continue my plea
for another video of sight and sound
hoping you'll visit or return to me
holding hands in feathered dreams
SkyWatcher
10-24-23
Light feathered feelings fell on me
Ones I accepted were filled with glee