Best Flocked Poems
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"Amid the jagged shadows of mossy leafless boughs; "
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Where demon seed, long cast o’er hallowed ground
pierces the death hardened soil,
thorn and bramble gather over darkened culverts
as a magpie peers from a barren branch,
seeking chain and splint, shards of the past and refuse
cast along greasy curbs, urine stained and flocked
Street lamps flicker, spitting kerosene among
dampened dreams of misty prophecies,
dripping senseless feelings ‘pon
fractured sidewalks while muted footprints wander,
muddied tracks woven in the darkness
of another’s hope, disappearing beyond the rusted gate
And I, fearless in the cold, frigid winds
gusting towards a tomorrow’d passion,
a bough of moss creaking along desolate twigs,
tortured thoughts and worried chapters,
leafless in this winter of no vacancy
and spoiled apples call…
for I am the Night Keeper, the harbinger of moons,
restless on this eve of starless wishes,
broker of destitute destinations, waiting in
these jagged shadows of your own making
midst crying vestiges of failures found,
to lead you into the depths…
…of your deserved delusions
11/22/19
Writing Challenge 3, November - Any Form
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wisshkobi Ode
He told me he loved me.
It was winter and snowing.
We walked on the street.
In a suburb, what a treat.
Houses aglow, Rudolph outside.
I wanted Santa there to go
for a sky ride.
Mom had her pink flocked
tree in our bay window glowing.
He kissed me then, I hoped
my blushing was not showing.
That does seem, like centuries
ago.
That innocent kiss, so blessed
by the snow!
It was so crystalline and pure
as were we.
Kissing so sweetly,in front of
Mom's pink tree.
The years are gone, so is my
Mother, like her!
Oh.no, there shall never be
another.
God, eventually, calls us to our
eternal home.
Where happiness and peace do exist
and we never want to roam!
4/29/2021
Rows of heavy snow flocked pines
In varied heights stretch to touch
White cloud dappled azure skies.
Their blue-gray shadows cast across
Pristine snow and swift river's flow.
Steep hillsides lure camera lenses
With picturesque clear alpine air,
Sharing serene senses with dawn.
Shimmering bright in solar light,
Powdered snow in angelic glow
Captures diamond crystal auras
Reflected off the drifted mounds.
Rounded river rocks dressed with
Snow covered marshmallow tops
Greet the beauty of the celestial sun,
In divine display of this blessed day.
©Connie Marcum Wong
Once there was a little cabin in the forest
where lived a most incredible hermit
all animals birds and creatures flocked
to him, surrounding him with their trust.
He lived a simple life dedicated to helping
those in need. Each day found him looking
out the wounded healing them with herbs
he gathered then making them into potions.
His cabin was just one room, a bed and table
with perches for injured birds, straw scattered
on floor for the various critters seeking help
none were turned away all that could be healed.
One day his door remained shut, the hermit
was ill, a stag managed to open his door
finding him in bed racked by a fever and cough
all day animals and birds helped bringing berries
A squirrel bathed his fevered brow and piled up straw
many animals cuddled up to help keep him warm
slowly but surely he started to improve to all's delight
He looked around at the worried faces of them all.
His strength returned thanks to the creatures help
and he collected hay, nuts, corn, berries for them
and spread out a banquet that was fit for a king
they all ate and made merry dancing in the clearing
We will now leave him and friends in the forest's peace
with butterflies and bees to keep this kindly hermit company
(Spenserian Sonnet)
A flagrant man is Robert Brown, a swine;
his eyes glow red like ember coals of fire.
Will fate be kind or bring him bitter brine
and will his soul the evil one require?
Did in pretense he seek to prove desire
and rise to plant a kiss upon her lips?
He sliced her neck and watched his wife expire,
as blood streamed down and dripped from fingertips.
Yet rumor spread as neighbors came to grips
with horror of a murder in their town,
and newsmen raced to pen details in scripts
while lawmen flocked to chase the villain down.
I held my mother in my arms and cried;
her eyes met mine in sorrow as she died.
The series "Despicable Me,"
we've flocked to theaters to see.
Wee minions--cute creatures--
and bad guys each features.
To all we respond with great glee.
I never dreamed five years ago
that I would soon dash to and fro
in search of these minions--
in children's opinions,
all treasures. How well I now know!
Some kids possess minions galore:
the one-eyed, the two-eyed, and more.
They giggle and jabber;
"BANANA," some blabber.
Their odd appeal, who could ignore?
My grandson's like other young boys.
For Christmas he craved minion toys.
His loved ones went shopping
for hours, not stopping
till we found gifts he now enjoys.
The minion-themed presents I gave
were puzzles, a cool talking Dave,
a pillow with three guys
with one or two huge eyes.
For these he did hug me and rave.
` I'm glad to say just one thing more:
Fart Blaster, I left at the store!
The child would have driven
me nuts if I'd given
him that thing; but Dave, I adore.
Date posted: February 23, 2016
The rhyming scheme of a limerick is aabba.
It was on a cold night in Bethlehem that hope was born
A babe lay in a manger as angels sang joyfully
Above the nativity a star shone casting bright light
Guiding the paths of three wise men to welcome our Savior
As shepherds flocked toward the illuminated holy site
The warmth from within still touches the hearts of all mankind
In remembrance we pray for harmony among mankind
As we celebrate the first Christmas, optimism born
In the Mideast soldiers bow down, recalling this wondrous site
For just one night thoughts of war fade, hearts are filled joyfully
They lay down weapons, focusing on the birth of our Savior
As they huddle together, sharing good will by camp light
In many parts of the world, homes illuminated by light
Peace touches the hearts of those who seek blessings for mankind
Church bells ring, signaling the arrival of our Savior
Souls are touched as the restoration of joy is now born
Worshippers proceed to mass, sharing greetings joyfully
If only each day could be filled with such a loving site
How welcome to see the sun rise each day on such a site
Hearts abounding with humanity from our inner light
With angels in each of us sharing good will joyfully
If I live to see such days, I’ll have new hope for mankind
Trust and faith would emanate, celebrating a Child born
A Child, a Leader Who would give His life as a Savior
Cast aside the trappings, focus only on our Savior
Keep in mind this first Christmas, a blessed and holy site
How wonderful it would be to see new harmony born
Differences seem petty as we revel in God’s light
Join me in expectations for the future of mankind
Like the seraphs let us sing out in hymns so joyfully
Make our future one that finds families praying joyfully
No greater inspiration than the birth of our Savior
From a Blessed Mother’s womb sprang a babe to save mankind
Let us be wise men, finding cause to worship at this site
War and hatred cannot exist within God’s holy light
Acceptance of each man’s worth can in joyful hearts be born
Raise your hearts, revel joyfully in our Savior’s glory
In cheer mankind recalls the site of a manger at night
Where neath a star’s light was born a King, the Son of our Lord
* Sestina written for the "Joy to the World" contest.
Accept equality, admit to science
That you always believed -
Why wouldn’t love be free?
San Franciscans and summer lovers
Flocked here seeking illusion.
They saw pretty colors, but no truth.
I extended my hand, warmly
You grasped it, looking onward
To clover crowns and daisy chains.
There is no understanding of
The light in shaded eyes, or
Coy words slipped from tight lips.
Summers always end, she said.
We sighed, nodding off to dream,
Once more before the apocalypse.
-ARCantu, 05/25/2023
In times gone by, in a land of dreams,
Where childhood thrived with laughter and gleams,
A story unfolded, enchanting and true,
Of mirthful times and dreams that grew.
In a quaint little town, where joy ran rife,
There stood an ice cream truck, full of life.
With its jingling tune and colorful display,
It brought smiles and laughter every day.
Children flocked to its magical sight,
Their dreams bear flight, day and night.
With sticky fingers and faces beaming,
They tasted flavors, delicious and gleaming.
Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry delight,
Each scoop is a memory, pure and bright.
In that little town, under the summer sun,
The ice cream truck was where the fun had begun
From morning till dusk, they would gather around,
In eager anticipation of the sweetest sound.
The tinkling melody that filled the air,
Drawing them closer, without a care.
The children would form a queue, their eyes wide,
As the ice cream truck parked by the roadside.
They'd count their coins, their pockets emptied,
Hoping to indulge in the flavors they craved.
The ice cream man, with a smile so bright,
Served up scoops with all his might.
He knew each child's favorite treat,
And made sure their dreams were complete
With laughter and giggles, they'd savor each bite,
Their taste buds danced in sheer delight.
The ice cream truck became their halcyon place,
A sanctuary of joy, a sweet space.
And as the years passed, and childhood flew by,
A symbol of innocence and a carefree day,
Ice cream truck remained a cherished reminiscence
Where dreams were nurtured in the sweet existence.
Story Poem
toss anger, he said
into the bin of waste
waste not mankind’s love
with abuse and bite
the bullet skies
high the eagle flies
why not the steeple
less with feathers flocked
why not the pews on
threadbare knees
that knock and palms
close touch of closed
and ethereal eyes, in shock
of amazing blue, far above
the whizzing bell of shots
some fell, some rise
both have a knell and sigh
anger flung like monkey dung
lay upon the sheetrock roof
its lies are born and cradled
evil has a childhood, is able
to wean and crawl, to fall
toss anger, he spoke
to the deaf and blind
they never woke nor wised
up. six feet downer done
swept into the bin of waste
a godforsaken life
Crater Lake
Looking down high above in sunny skies
A view through aircraft window down below...
A sublime scene of beauty cast in eyes
Of a crater lake, crowned by pristine snow.
The island in its center brought such cheer,
A picture postcard flocked with evergreens,
With a sense of serenity so near
In glory of this lake and what she means.
The deep azure of water shined like glass,
I will never forget our stunning view.
Enchantment stole my heart which came to pass
I vowed to visit there one day with you.
God's hideaway in mountainous terrain,
A sacred sight retained within my brain.
1-13-22 rev.
~Second Place~
Winter Wonders Within Nature Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: M. L. Kiser
*Photo from Wikipedia by WolfmanSF
1-3-19
Sleeping Volcano Poetry Contest~3rd Place~
Sponsor Eve Roper
White with wonder, I stay locked
When it thunders, I lay shocked!
People all around me flocked,
But everyday I fell mocked!
“The sacred lake also called Ganga Talao represents the mighty Ganges river of India.” Mauritiusinsideout.com>grand-bassin-mauritius
A Sacred Lake
In the midst of a tropical forest
The mouth of a long extinct volcano
Surrounded by hills not so high
Bordered by lush trees and bushes
Is the seat of sparkling waters
That undulate in little waves
In direction of the prevailing winds,
Reflect the azure blue of the clear sky
The bright rays of the sun during the day
And white shines of stars and the moon at night.
Before men had set their eyes on the lake
Angels danced on the shore of the waters
To the tunes of the breeze on moonlight nights;
When a dream revealed the sight to a soul
And slim pathways were threaded to the lake
Angels no more plied to the sacred site,
But thousands of men flocked to the spot for prayers
And on the eve of Maha Shivratri
Hundreds of thousands of pilgrims tread to the lake
To source sacred water to pour on Lord Shiva.
All year round, tourists converge to the lake
To stroll around this sacred site
Charm their eyes with its unique tapestry
And snap shots of its picturesque beauty
To relish as memento of their trip
And cherish as a divine work of art
Legated to this tropical island
By the graceful divinity
Who dropped a piece of paradise
In midst of the Indian Ocean.
SPIRITS OF EASTERS PAST
On Easter Sunday, Christians celebrate
Christ rising from the dead.
I loved Easter as a child, it was as special
as Christmas and went to my head.
Always a brand new dress, and pretty, new
Mary Jane shoes.
Colored eggs of yellows, reds, pinks and blues.
The church flocked with lilies,
the altar, marble and gold.
This was an event on which,
I need not be sold.
Afternoon, on Easter, the family came for dinner.
We all looked so lovely and the silver candelabra
shimmered.
It lit up the beige and gold Lenox dinnerware.
The family smiling and laughing, who would dare
dream of not being there.
Mother bought assorted flowers of all colors.
It somehow reminded me that people of any skin
color, are truly sisters and brothers!
Think! Our souls do not in colors come.
We are all~God's daughters and sons.
Yes, I am aware many threw God overboard.
No kidding! I can see it in the USA, where not being
a Christian brings one high scores.
Try to get into heaven, with God's laws broken in
your hands.....
Where you have decided, that you are God, and that
you created the family of man!
The huge Easter baskets were filled with Easter toys
and yummy Easter candy.
Covered in colores cellophane and huge ribbons, made
this day even more dandy.
Aunts, uncles, all my cousins, such a glorious family on
those Easters were close and handy.
Easter was so special in the days way back when.
Replaced now by fear of being near others, I would do
anything to live back then!
When I could hug someone and see those smiles!
But that exists only in my mind, and I can revisit those
days...only in memory's miles!
4/9/2023
I was sixteen when I fell in love
with her soaring skyward voice
Smitten by the sight of
melting ice cream dripping down her hand,
the hand that held the cone
As she smiled, wearing her denim overalls
Had a perfectly shaped Afro,
this beautiful sonorous soul
Minnie Riperton ...
she had the voice of an angel
She had rare God-given ability;
she could raise her voice one octave at a time,
higher and higher ... so sublime
Stepping up the musical ladder to the stars
she would climb
Vocalese ... soul satisfying release
Birds of paradise flocked to hear her voice;
as lovers swooned in the sultry moonlight
on summer nights,
serenaded by her sensuous invite
Listening to the voice of octave love
Minnie Riperton ...
we all were Lovin' You
as her beautiful voice took us
to the Edge of a Dream
But she departed years ago,
so we sit Alone in Brewster Bay
treasuring the Simple Things
Hearing her breathtaking voice
sparks in me the inner flame,
as her songs take me down Memory Lane
Over forty years later,
I emerged out of my personal wilderness ...
guided on many a nights
by the heavenly stars up above,
and by the voice of her pure octave love