Best Gables Poems
I find beauty in the unkempt places ~~
Sticky beehives with perfectly formed combs,
A child's playground sea of dirty faces,
An overgrown garden with ugly gnomes,
Sagging gables of long-deserted homes.
I look for more than people likely see ~~
Wondrous events occurring in past tense,
Places long untouched, lovely by degree,
Feelings of beauty lit from innocence,
Well-crafted stories hinging on suspense.
I long for beauty in the dour mundane ~~
Making the minus a clear positive,
Finding some loveliness in the profane,
To be learned in the raw provocative,
Turning low grades into superlative.
[LIFE]
SECOND PLACE WINNER
Written July 1, 2022
For "It's All About Three Q's" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
[15-10 syllable lines in 3 Stanzas checked by HMS
The ababb of the English Quintain with rhymes
checked with Rhyme Zone]
#16 on Poetry Soup's 100 Best New Poems List
August 24, 2022
#20 on Poetry Soup's 100 Best New Poems List
August 15, 2022
Categories:
gables, beautiful, beauty, places,
Form:
Quintain (English)
I wrote a great book, part memoir, part novel
Shopped it around, I ain’t too proud to grovel
Got kicked upstairs to a big publishing head
He invited me in, and here's what was said:
This screed you call Crack House of the 13 Gables
Is one long rant mixed with recycled fables
It wanders aimlessly, but never resolves
Characters pop out of nowhere, then simply dissolve
But the symbolism, sir, allow me to explain
The Victorian parlor represents pathos and pain
In the attic are mothballed broken dreams and betrayals
It's gonna shift your paradigm right off its rails
It’s a thousand-page odyssey into the surreal
The hedge maze is where all 14 sub-plots congeal
Enough! The only reason I called you in, punk
Is to meet the lunatic who scribbled this junk
So I slunk away, not a little dejected
Ain’t much fun being literarily rejected
Trudged back to my grueling, stale coffee grind
Working 15-hour days, going out of my mind
Then one day I met an old pal for some beers
Hadn't seen him in quite a few years
I told him about my rejection slip wrangle
He said buck up, you just need the right angle
I like reading novels, now don’t get me wrong
But writin' 'em, man, that just takes too damn long
And what a huge risk, 16 years you devoted
For no payday at all, just your ego imploded
There's no need to pen the next Moby Dick
Try something short, now that is the trick!
So, I thanked my friend for his most sage advice
And took it to heart without thinkin' thrice
And now I am back as a voice for the ages
Except I'm makin' my mark in far fewer pages
I write sound bites and maxims and pithy remarks
T-shirt slogans and jokes, I just do on a lark
I bang out poems and lyrics at the drop of a hat
Dash off 17 syllables in ten seconds flat
Haikus by the bunch
Cook up a batch before lunch
Put that in your pipe
____________________________
For Humor Contest
Sponsored by: Carol Eastman
Categories:
gables, angst, humor, humorous, self,
Form:
Rhyme
When a child if gifted with a book it transforms into a key to unlock the mind. The gate to the secret garden of imagination is pried from its forgiving hinges and the child is free to expand their imagination to galaxy proportions.
The simple pages of a book provide a passport for a passenger seat next to the likes of Captain Biggles in his Tibetan adventures to locate the forbidden city of Shangri Lah, or a magical flight to Neverland with Pan and the lost boys. Who knows how each “child’s mind’s eye will envisage the loathsome creature that is Mr Hyde or the demure Dr Jekyll?
It captures the heart of a parent to witness their young boy, lying on his bed, engrossed in the pages of Stevenson’s Kidnapped. His imaginings transform him into the character of David Balfour, fighting alongside the Jacobite rebel, Alan Stewart. Such a comforting vision is a young girl, lounging on the couch on a rain soaked winters afternoon, fanning through a copy of Anne of Green Gables, engrossed in the character of Anne Shirley, wishing to emulate her outgoing spirit and giving nature.
The abundant bread basket of literary expositions act as a conduit, unlocking a child’s ability to make judgements about morality, injustices and an understanding of consequences in decision making. All the while the simple act of quietly reading procures an incalculable and surreptitious response to education for a lifetime to come.
The nostalgic aroma of floral vanilla and almonds that emit from the pages of an old book invokes a sense of anticipation to the imaginary adventures about to be embarked upon, creating an atmosphere of ambivalence.
An implore to parents across the globe to leave the television set and so-called social media, bombarding a child’s mind like a tidal wave, leaving in its wake a desolate landscape of nothingness. Embrace the tactile feel of pages in hand, gently stroking the mind, embedding feelings of, wonder and imagination. Read to your children every day and encourage them to jamb their noses into literary masterpieces from the likes of Stevenson, Doyle, Dickens and many more worthy exponents that have stood the test of time.
Categories:
gables, adventure, books, children,
Form:
Free verse
As I wend my way around curving roads
up high into the mountains
I finally arrive at the Eight Gables Inn.
I wonder what it is that drives me here!
Perhaps I have developed wings
and flew across the Atlantic towards
The Great Smoky Mountains
on my adventurous ride
to the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Tired I hope the Inn
will live up to its reputation.
The sun is setting as I view
the purple orange skies darken,
whilst here and there lights
in desolate cottages twinkle in the dark.
I hasten to my private bath
and slowly sink in the warm water,
overpowered by the smell of soapy foams.
Pleased with my silky skin
I put on a plush bathrobe
luxuriously enjoying the feel
of the soft fabric against my spores,
and with a graceful dive find myself
on top of a feather-top bed.
This is the life of luxury...
Until I feel the taste of blotting paper
that cover my whole mouth.
I open my eyes and know
it was all a dream, alas.
Categories:
gables, adventure, appreciation,
Form:
Free verse
I live in a house of seventy gables
With twenty kitchens and as many tables.
It's good for both winter and summer weathers,
'Cuz, in Spring, it flies - it's made of feathers!
Categories:
gables, bird, nonsense, silly, spring,
Form:
Rhyme
In Jordan’s desert, a building façade
has been carved into the face of a vertical cliff.
Stairs leading to the structure are lined with lanterns.
Looking up, a view standing right of center,
stone appears orange near the base fading to black at its top.
Where cliff’s edge meets the night sky,
darkness brightens into starlight.
While appearing more ancient,
this façade has features of Roman architecture:
columns, shallow gables atop flat roofs, carved figures decorating idle spaces.
It has two stories.
It’s first has six columns.
Two are set back from the entrance that is supported by four beneath a gable.
Two horses are carved on wall between first and second column,
two more are carved between fourth and sixth column.
Inside a portico behind the center four columns,
steps lead up to a tall entrance, black,
an opening to a large chamber inside the rock.
The second story, as wide as first, has a block cut from its center.
At each side are half gables, supported by two columns.
Statues are carved beneath each gable.
Between these gables is a turret supported with columns.
A statue of a human figure stands within the turret.
The grand scale of the western façade should be alien in the Jordanian desert.
It should be, but is not.
If taken from the rock and perfectly constructed in Washington D.C.,
with a coat of white paint, it would not look out of place.
A fusion of West and East, this place begs questions about the people who carved it,
political and religious beliefs of their civilization,
its purpose in a desert,
and how it could be ahead of its time.
Categories:
gables, arabic, art, christian, islamic,
Form:
Free verse
Harlot rides the scarlet colored beast,
"the rich, fat cats having a feast.”
Come now ten horns of ten fables
Loose the yokes of uneven gables
Babylon, Babylon the great
Ten nations shall furnish your plate
Mystery Babylon the great
Economic icon is greed’s mate
Mother of all mothers the harlot
Bloody wars ride beast colored scarlet
Scarlet beast borne econ harlot
Waste the city, the econ starlet
Two pillows, of knees bowed low
Beneath ashen face has lost its glow
The Caterpillars’ hum has ceased
The new city shall weep for peace
For one day in a month in a year
A sign shall appear in a sphere
Those that sigh, shall understand
Fled into many mountains stand
False liberty is of God forsaken
Prepare for this rude awakening
False pie in the sky is too high
Still, fat cats ask the poor to comply
===================
Written 10/10/2011
Categories:
gables, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
has a two story part,
a one story part,
a new part,
an old part
and an antique part.
Gables and pediments facing all directions of the compass
Tie all the parts together.
There are some concave outside walls;
There are some convex Inside walls.
The house breathes.
It sees with its many large window lights;
Knowing where the kids are,
Watching the horses kick up their heels,
Catching glimpses of new spring kittens
scurrying out from under the porch,
Seeing with watchful eyes
as the kids ski behind flying horses,
Keeping an eye on the dog
herding the grand-baby away from the corrals.
Seeing the skunks, racoons, foxes and coyotes
slip by as we sleep,
They brace against the winds
as they turn from south to north.
The glass in the antique part ripples
keeping the view in constant motion –
never resting.
The grand antique porch has hosted birthdays; graduations; weddings;
rendezvous and funerals.
Giving sanctuary to many a friend
needing a place to come and sit in quiet for a while
The house takes comfort from the music of a whistle
coming from the workshop.
Then watching the kids go, one at a time.
Then the whistler was gone –
Yet it still holds out its arms and wings and peaks
securely protecting its remaining occupant.
The house suits me,
it is my eye candy,
it holds my heart.
I will live my last in this house
surrounded by my life.
Categories:
gables, happiness, history, introspectionhouse, house,
Form:
Sonnet
Elvin Allen
1889 – 1905
They were like iron trees!
Hundreds of them!
Poking and piercing their way into the sun-lit sky,
Like moist fingers
Testing the wind direction to the east.
I was born into this Quaker town on Bright Street.
If you take a left from Broadway ,
You will see it
Our little white house with the dormer gables
And the shaded front porch
Where dad and mom sat on hot summer afternoons
Reading the Bible
And knitting my sister’s soft sweaters for winter time.
And we all sipped cold lemonade,
In glasses that twinkled in the sun.
I loved baseball.
And I loved hiking in the hills there
To the east.
Where I hunted squirrels and jackrabbits
With my taut leather sling.
And I kissed Belva there.
Then on the day I died,
I decided to climb one of them,
One of those iron fingers,
One of those hundreds of oil derricks
That sucked black crude from the hollow ground,
There in the eastern hills.
I almost made it to the top that day,
Inching slowly slowly slowly
Up the side wooden ladder,
But I lost my footing nevertheless
And fell to my death at age 16.
And now here I rest
Waiting by this old rotting oak tree,
Here in Clark Cemetery,
Waiting for my bodily resurrection,
And thirsting, forever thirsting
For one more twinkling glass
Of mom’s cold lemonade.
Categories:
gables, death,
Form:
Epitaph
FREEZE - FRAME OF QUEBEC CITY
Time-capsule towers over St. Lawrence:
Heights of Abraham look imperiously down
On the Ile d’Orleans spread over the river,
Chateau Frontenac’s fairytale frivolous turrets,
Le Parlement’s serious severity,
Antique town with narrow cobbled streets,
Overhanging shoulders of timbered gables.
Clipclop of caleche leaps back centuries,
Cobblestones echo concertina and fiddle music
About log-driving men with peavey poles.
L’ete indien - a world of rust and copper leaf,
Montmorency Falls and the legend,
All frozen in time and in winter’s snowy grip.
Categories:
gables, urban
Form:
Imagism
Fifty-six years her beauty's heart did glow; a nineteenth century
Love song amid eastern skies northern lights; she danced as dwelled
In dreams these possibilities ? Clandestine, verses sublime gables rhyme
Of sweet perfume, and timeless time; singsongs, choirs, your carriage awaits...
Segue Juliet, this music she plays; parallel, heirlooms her love his, corsage; we kiss.
Categories:
gables, art, baby, beautiful,
Form:
I hear Europe calling- come to me my friend
Wander my streets of chivalry, travel me to my end
I hear Europe calling, gables and goblins grinning
Climb to my peaks, sink to my valleys, find our new-old beginning
I hear Europe calling- what is that you say?
Trains and planes and automobiles, high price for petrol pay!
Wait for me, I'll jump aboard, settle on a train-seat
Watch my life in streaks of landscape, crisp new life I'll greet
I hear Europe calling- serenades unearth'd
I long to find my meaning, hunger to see my worth
In my soul you roil, Europe, never you will flit
In the heart of Oxford, my dreams, my hopes, are writ-
Categories:
gables, adventure, hope, nature, places,
Form:
Rhyme
My mansion is white and splendid,
it is three stories and has red shingles;
so beautiful- in the sky suspended.
With flower boxes and colors blended,
and round windows on the many gables;
my mansion is white and splendid.
When I go there all sad things are mended,
in this dream just happiness twinkles;
so beautiful- in the sky suspended.
Just floating until my dream has ended,
in another realm in clouds it mingles;
my mansion is white and splendid.
I can let go of feelings pretended,
it is full of joy, light and love sprinkles;
so beautiful- in the sky suspended.
In this Shangri-La, I hear the angels,
there, I can shed my persona presented;
my mansion is white and splendid,
so beautiful- in the sky suspended.
____________________________
November 14, 2016
Poetry/Villanelle/In The Sky Suspended
Copyright Protected, ID 16-850-042-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym
Written for the contest, Building Castles In The Sky
sponsor, Steven Henderson
Seventh Place
Categories:
gables, beautiful, dream,
Form:
Villanelle
senators seeing stapled starkers
Loopholes. Lanky long. Llama Klamath llama please do not lean on those bent gables. For gables are gargling and gargling sounds very eerily similar to a gaggle of geese. Mission endeavour is a plane in a prism. A pram. Circling. But not a curdled crisp. Boot not a rebooted tooting train. For trains are teams and team is neither a steam locomotive nor a mystified heron on a penny farthing. Part board part hoard and a collapsing crash of hands. Figure a fakery is an idiomatic meaning of a didactic form of unilaterally placed flowers. And the beak says hi. But not before the fire arrives in a bowl of plankton. At noon. In a square. If travelling in a circular ship travel light and only carry one tray, one mug, a beaker, a wheel, and a supernaturally charged frog. Interesting to note how the enhanced forms of wit is involved in intergalactic war games. Playing on a two ton tea towel. Very very heavy. Heavy rock and heavy metal is in a school eating cereal at the back of a classroom. Haha. And the deafening boom of bell brings balls to halls and hallowed singing in a line. Youth yawn yearly. And a little micro dot of a hedgehog plays the bass guitar with a sparrow, a nine foot semi eroded dustbin, a mentally disturbed earwig, a corrupted cucumber, and a non digestible house brick. Wow. Such enlightenment from a factory of frozen peas. Hahaha the wine is in the winds. Hahaha message board secret speaking to a pen. Hahaha number of stolen goods dancing with the police. How apolitical and jar of gold coasting coats. Xxxxx Palladian ponies. Xxxxx geometrical gnome. Xxxxx synchronous swanky swans. X uncharacteristically z z z z z. At 689% of a slice of pear cider. Personified x
Categories:
gables, april, arabic, art, august,
Form:
monchielle
Take a stick of spearmint
cross the sea to Ireland.
Forty shades of green you'll meet.
Patrick drove out green snakes
green shamrocks line the street.
Take a stick of spearmint
exchange it for key lime.
Voila! new gums are cool.
Taste the watermelon;
green apple makes me drool.
Take a stick of spearmint
to Prince Edward Island
where even water's green.
Meet Anne of Green Gables,
hysterical colleen.
Take a stick of spearmint
off to the produce aisle.
Green beans will greet us there,
cucumber and Swiss chard,
papaya and the pear.
Categories:
gables, adventure, green, travel,
Form:
Rhyme