Best Front Room Poems
Now where does this Highlander start
To thank those commenter's, present and past
So many read and absorbed
Their kindness to me always lasts
Dr.Ram and Carol Brown
My African Queen 'Miss Wilma Neel's
Michael from New York City
Whose comments I internally feel
There's Andrea, the Utah babe
And Carolyn, from Florida State
Their writing I so enjoy
For their words reverberate
John Loving is such a wonderful guy
There's Sara and Doris too
Deb Radke and Sharon Ruebel our newbies
Made welcome to our literal zoo
P.D. Skat and Constance
Barbara, Iolanda and June
Francine from lovely Nanaimo
Many thanks to all of you
To Ruben, Celene and Raul
Your past writes have helped me grow
Along with so many others
You have helped my words to flow
Blimey! I better not miss out the Brits
Sarah, Brian, Sharon and June
And Anna Marie, away down in Wales
I have read in my front room
Many dudes I also have to thank
Harry Horsman the Geordie boy
The two Roberts, Dufresne and Hinshaw
Whose writings bring so much joy
There's also the bard called Peranteau
Billy the Kidster, Cecil as well
HG, Catie Lindsey and James Goff
Who marshalls his words real swell
And lastly there's the thousands of others
This character has ran out of space
Keep the ink in you pen gently flowing
Your names to me is your face
Golly! this is turning into a story
And many told by the above writing troops
As I marvel at your writing ingredients
Keep writing for this wonderful Soup
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-16.php
Categories:
front room, on writing and words,
Form:
Quatrain
I’m a beautiful angel like you’ll see on a tree
My snow globe plays a carol it is so Christmasy
I’m trapped in this snow globe, I want to get out
I bang on the casing and I scream and I shout
Bobby picks the globe and he shakes it so hard
so the snow swirls inside like it does in the yard
He then casts me aside leaving me on the table
and the kitten stares at me, she is called Mable
Mable bats me around and I crash to the floor
she’s found a new toy, and bats me with her paw
My snow globe home slides across the front room
Then the father treads on it and seals my doom
The snow globe is smashed, water leaks everywhere
And all the snow’s disappeared, oh it just isn’t fair
Bobby’s mother says she’s got a clever idea
I’ll take pride of place on her cake every year
Written for contest .... then I discovered Bobby wanted Free verse!
11/22/19
Categories:
front room, child, christmas, fun,
Form:
Couplet
Past scenic trails once never touched
from hands of man no graces' clutched
near cloudless skies where beauty rests
in trees of maple songbirds nest
In rays of sun we find their tune
where lovers meet in months of June
holding hands with heart pledged vows
ring notes of faith when friendships rouse
Through all her wisdom hear the call
the hurdles cleared both large and small
warm winds of hope that bring forth peace
a walk through life in nature's crease
Shine in splendor white daisies bloom
Spill out glory in God's front room
Categories:
front room, love, marriage,
Form:
Sonnet
Meandering rivers, streams and burns
Zig zagging, flowing in contour turns
Sparkling waters as pure as can be
Flow through the glens and down to the seas
Much life is found in these translucent waters
Species of fish, and delightful otters
Along these rivers, streams and burns
Grow many grasses, trees and ferns
Varieties of greens in wonderment bloom
A most beautiful sight is natures front room
Her seasons dictate, the rise and the fall
The pictures she paints, delightfully enthrals
These graceful rivers, streams and burns
Lured us to settle, for beside the seas we yearned
Villages turned into towns, and towns into cities
For the lure of these waters, some murky some pretty
For all around the world, the patterns the same
These are just a few, the Thames, Ness and the Seine
Look after all waters as they are all our concern
Our meandering rivers, streams and burns
" My entry into Brian's contest Flow, River, Flow "
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-4.php
Categories:
front room, animals, history, inspirational, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
An old stone cottage stands on the seafront
Abandoned and alone
Windows covered in sea salt and cobwebs
Its history and story unknown
A small white cottage with good bones
That has weathered many a storm
Now unloved and neglected
Still stands steadfast ,proud, yet sadly forlorn
A large stone fireplace graces the front room
Blackened by the years that have withstood the test of time
Giving warmth and comfort to many a soul
Comfort so sublime
I wonder who resided here
Was it a happy home
Was it alive , full of love and laughter
Or harbouring sadness and secrets unknown
I would love to sit inside this cottage
Light the fire and share a cup of tea
So the cottage could tell me its story
Of life as it used to be
A story perhaps of long lost secrets
One of intrigue and mystery
Or maybe just a simple tale
Of a loving family
In appreciation and gratitude for story told
A cuddle it would be
I would visit time and again for the warmth of its fire
And to share another cup of tea!
Categories:
front room, history, old, sea, time,
Form:
Rhyme
Rustic mountains
Through glaciations
Moulded this wonderful
Scottish Nation
Caledonian Forests
Covered our land
On our Western Islands
Golden beached sands
Glens and rivers
Cris cross our land
Glorious moors
Where the Highland Stag stands
Majestic and tall
Proud and might
This king of beasts
The most wonderful sight
Scenery to thrill
Heather-ed in purpled bloom
Look out any window
Its our own front room
Golden Eagles
Soar above these lands
Winged royalty
In their blue blooded strand
Our contribution to our modern world
Is all around us, read and learn
Logie Baird, with Television
Pedal Cycle, Kirkpatrick MacMillan
Medical marvel, Penicillin
In other Nations our touch has felt
Our Ancestors us, we Celts
For centuries we cast our nets
To further lands
We were always met
Friendly Scots in every way
Gave this world
A better say
America, Canada, New Zealand too
Us Scots are in me and you
Ancestral blood runs through our veins
The quite wonderful Scottish strain
Alba.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php
Categories:
front room, animals, history, inspirational, life,
Form:
Rhyme
The Pipe
(irrigation)
I am a city girl,
I have never,
until now…
Ridden a horse across the desert,
held a tarantula for longer than…
five minutes,
used an incubator to raise chickens,
helped keep track of puppies (twice),
cut tails and sewed them like material.
keep fish in a pond, raised just to eat,
and my garden is not organic,
it is simply blessed.
I bought, fixed and "care for"...,
my Own John Deere…Riding Tractor.
This is not a boast.
I have crawled under houses,
into attics, painted barns and chased a PIG!
The rooster would not quit crowing.
The altogether too close neighbor did the same.
Oh…
and the rain was coming down
in the middle of the front room,
inside.
While on the outside…
I, was knee-deep in water.
Not from above, although he lent a hand.
The corner of the yard. That mysterious place.
Behind a tree, a stump and two bushes.
It came from there, like the flood of Noah.
Now a gaping hole, where the river came to visit.
Fast and slow, in and out everywhere.
The middle of the night…
The top and I, do battle.
Cold and merciless… I shake, freezing.
I will win. Stop the gush, in a rush.
I am a city girl…
But I am a warrior.
Categories:
front room, courage, culture, life, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Pride of Place - My Mother's Piano
My mother’s hands on ivory keys wove enchanted runes
Then flew across the keyboard in musical monsoons
Notes of black and white in song serenades communed
She coaxed the claviature to plaintive and musical cartoons.
Eighty-eight keys remember days of Claire de Lune,
Sonatas lyrical shimmers recall enchantments of the moon,
Bewitching notes that bloomed in l’apres midi afternoons
Reminisce now that her treasured piano graces my front room.
2-7-22
Contest: Pride of Place
Sponsor: Julie Ward
Categories:
front room, appreciation, mother, music,
Form:
Monorhyme
Summer Place
A song crept into my soul today riding on the summer wind
Then peeked into my summer place closed for many seasons -
Windows shuttered standing on a grassy knoll
Whitewashed in the morning melody at the waters edge -
Waiting - held in time - face unchanging;
I forgot how I loved to sit
Upon the wysteriaed porch in wicker chairs painted white
To smell the elfin roses reaching for the trellis tops
As summer heavy hangs upon the railing
While a frisky breeze
Hop skips
Across the harbor leaving diamonds in it's footsteps
On the waters
And opens up the wide front door,
Decorated with a flowered wreath,
Inviting welcome to my summer place,
Warmed by summer's enduring caress;
The wide front room filled with bits of yellowed lace,
A fragile nautilus,
Daphne pressed between old diary pages,
Haunting songs of summers past, antique keys
And faded photographs;
I take the album in my hands sitting upon the fragrant porch,
Arms around my knees, tabby kitten by my side,
To watch the games and songs
And friends
Unfold their images across the lawn -
Children playing in the sand at the waters edge,
Voices lifted in the sunlight -
Here, I can touch their hands again,
Look into their eyes
And see our laughter fill the afternoon;
We return from play
Young women,
Dressed in cool white linen,
Sun touched hair bound in flowing ribbons
Enfolded in the breezy twilight on the porch
To feast on summer peaches and gaze across the water
With eyes enchanted by the gathering lights
Twinkling in the dusk -
The first bright stars of evening rising on the darkened air
Whispering of the future borning,
Blessed by the crickets chirping serenade -,
Till I would stand
Alone
Upon the empty porch tightly holding in my arms
Roses,
Red and white
Pink and lavender,
Yellow, crimson, orange and ivory and blue,
Their new perfume ever filling
The quiet rooms of my summer place
Until the golden moon slowly closes the white front door
Putting the key into its place,
Leading me upon the sandy path
To morning
Painting blush upon the sky,
When the summer wind
Whispers
Of a summer place.
Categories:
front room, friendship, memory, summer,
Form:
Free verse
The Anticipation of Snow
David J Walker
No matter how old I grow
The anticipation of snow
Beckons the memories of my feet
Deep in rubber boots
We called galoshes
Stepping into a virgin white
World of crisp cold
The crunching sound of
Crushing snow to the ground
Below leaving the footprints of tread
Evidence of boys and girls
In a playground world of winter
The picture window in the front room
Framed the storm from the warmness of
Our house where falling snow is quietly accepted
Its joy is in the arrival
Its secrets in the style of survival
The bitterness excepted
And the face of each snowflake a
Fingertip printed in the icy touch of winter
No matter how much may fall
You cannot count them all
Banked by the snowplows at night
Categories:
front room, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse
With speedy, gutsy ease
her Irish father rolls up the front room rug
Gaelic music lathers the air in merriment
Nelligen at 8, composed
snags our attention
in hard shoe clicking
her rapid, intricate footwork
its drumming effect, a heart pulsating
Nell's rigid torso
that trails upward to white-blond hair
bouncing,
catching light like weightless feathers
Small feet in black hard shoes
tapping
from toes to heels
Image fixed in place like her pale rose-bud skin
Up against the wall, I mimic her movements
My feet a tangled jigsaw
She laughs, kisses my cheek, tousles my hair
like tufts of grass
At 9, I want to go to her, to cradle her state of grace
for however long we are children
The suddenness of age frames our winter
A peer backwards through a series of lenses
to stitched moments that slide in memory
foot taps through our rooms
I know full well that I am responsible for my own mis-steps
for sitting out her dances
for never solving most puzzles
even when I pull back
from now
Poem composed: June 13, 2021
Categories:
front room, age, child, children, dance,
Form:
Free verse
It has you walking home
from school, past that house
where the front room curtains
moved yet revealed no face behind
only the trace of a shadow
stepping back into your mind -
the sound of footsteps that followed
and stopped when your feet
froze to the ground and,
on looking around, no-one
was there
and now,
stepping through time,
that dull echo on empty streets
late at night when far from home
and sleep, you get
a sense that someone
is still following,
so near now
you can almost hear
those icy lips whispering
your name.
Categories:
front room, anxiety, childhood, fear,
Form:
Free verse
The neighbors were running in fear
As into front room car did steer
What fate had approved
His words soon removed
Your parking’s improving my dear
Categories:
front room, car, humor, husband, love,
Form:
Limerick
The wall of horrors was never to be addressed.
I watch these monsters emerge as marvels.
Ten little white thumbnails aglow were detached setting in two rolls.
A short man stood by himself with such a pose.
There was a giant of a man in the line of the wall very ill-composed.
These monsters would visit my house for what I do not know.
However, on this particular night, my skin begins to crawl.
The wall of horrors was never addressed even with my grandma being of Irish
blood.
The short man that stood by himself was a Black leprechaun.
He would just stand there and show his rotten teeth.
I would shout out to him who are you to be.
The giant would not move one inch.
The little white thumbnails were also men.
Let me now mention the black goblin who eyes were effervescent.
The wall of horrors was not addressed.
On this particular night, I became rigid.
Hair follicle felt in the arms cause me to jump up and run.
In the front room, I went to tell my mother about what I see.
She told me go to bed.
I was an obedient child and went as she said.
Fast asleep, I desired; however, I only closed my eyes.
I will awaken, as day broke, with new profound knowledge untold.
_____________________________________________________|
PENNED ON OCTOBER 12, 2014!
Categories:
front room, evil, fear, good morning,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Wakening, I sense it’s a day not ordinary.
To the large bay window in my front room I’m drawn.
Lovely flakes tumbling from the sky I see.
I crack the door and feel the chill and still of dawn,
and peace descends on me like the snow that blankets my lawn.
In that winter’s morning hush are beams of brilliant light.
They sparkle, dancing on tree boughs hanging low.
How beautiful are they, all feathered white!
Along the lane, before a strong wind starts to blow,
I’ll go and walk serenely on the newly fallen snow.
Written Dec. 2, 2011
For Francine Roberts' "English Quintain contest Poetry Contest"
For Brian Strand's ONE FROM YOUR LAST FIFTY POSTED ON PS
any form/theme max 14 lines Poetry Contest
Categories:
front room, nature, poetry,
Form:
Quintain (English)