Best Garbs Poems
Today I really feel it; I feel it in the air,
and even though I still can feel sun’s glow,
the breeze is blowing cooler through my hair.
Mr. Sun, your throne seems to be getting low
up there in September’s blue so fair.
Oh, Autumn, you are here now. You are here!
Since the Equinox I’ve truly known.
Nature calls for you; I need no seer,
no fanfare or announcement. I’ve simply grown
accustomed to knowing when you are near!
October’s on the doorstep. I feel that too.
Geese in V’s will cross God’s heaven on the way
to warmer climes. A most wondrous view
will greet me when the mountains I’ve seen every day
flaunt garbs of brilliant hues! But why do I feel blue?
It never fails, this melancholy comes to me in fall
regardless of the beauty that I see.
Like my life, oh Autumn, you come not at a crawl,
but quickening your pace, you come each year to me.
Just one time, Autumn, let the winter wait . . . please stall.
Oct. 2, 2021 for Emile Pinet's
the 'Quintain (Sicilian)' Poetry Contest
For Your Favorite Poem Of 2021 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Categories:
garbs, autumn,
Form:
Quintain (Sicilian)
Love feels like it has gone far away
She used to exist everywhere it seems
Now she hides in fear of being used up or let down
Most now, don’t even remember what she feels like
I remember long ago
Love used to have big bright colors
lightening bugs would soar through the night sky
with dancing white beams that glowed in the dark
four leaf clovers would spring from green pines of grass
but would ever elude being found and plucked
by those wanting a taste of its Irish good luck
floral beach balls and pink rubber kick balls were the center of summers delight
camp fire girls adorned navy blue vests and strutted proudly holding red white and blue flags down main street on Memorial Day
lazy polka dot burnt orange black lady bugs
would sleep under the sun
waiting to be scooped up
each child hoping to find the lady
with the most dots
to win the game
cotton candy colored May Day dances held in the public-school yard always on the hottest and sunniest day of the year
each student excited about dressing up in colorful garbs from different cultures around the world
Love was innocent then...
Love had the best aromas too
tide detergent, vanilla extract
talcum powder, wonder bread
sweet potato pie
hot dogs on toasted rolls at the public pool
Chanel #5 on Church Sundays
lots of Chanel #5
Love had the most wonderful sounds
the rustle of fall leaves under your feet
the crunch of plastic sofa covers at grandma’s house
sitting on the porch listening to night crickets on dad’s lap
Maybe love is actually still here
Waiting for us to love her back
She has not been treated well lately
I hope that she will give us all another chance
And come back soon
Hopefully this time
She will stay
Categories:
garbs, life, love, memory,
Form:
Free verse
Mentation then, tear watered,
swells and garbs itself with presence—
at once to shout in strength
and pluck a cosmic string,
now restive, overstrung and tense.
Whispered tremolo swells
and in crescendo risen
transcends veiled mists of time
to stand, all seeing, astride
the sleepy gates of pearly dawn.
And, absent pause, endures
to span the velvet gulf
of light and truth and there to find
ineffable essence, which intermits
its fervent stir to calm.
And so of hopes and dreams and prayers,
suspend all doubt and hesitation,
for these with purpose-driven urge
merge with an eternity of thought
and we the authors of its might.
Dedicated to our dear and treasured poet and friend: Sarai Romani.
Categories:
garbs, hope,
Form:
Free verse
The River
The river sings its sweet lament
in ancient voice softly lowing,
vibrant melodies subtly meant
to plumb the depths of our knowing.
Around each bend it curves, flowing
onward toward its fated reunion
with unkempt sea, wild and blowing;
embracing briney communion.
Its serpentine course scars the land
in undulant brown profusion;
shimmering gold in twilight's hand,
a gift of nature's effusion.
Pregnant spring plies it, unleashing
tempest's turgid downpour to slake
the lusty spate's thirst unceasing,
leaving ravaged marl in its wake.
Torrid summer's breath chars the soil
and saps the river of its strength,
but cool and sweet, the river's toil
paints a green ribbon down its length.
Demon winter glazes the earth,
garbs the river in frigid gown,
draws a pane of ice over its girth
but fails to stay its flowing down.
Since time out of mind, the river
has carved canyons from stubborn stone
and sought naught but to deliver
its lifeblood back to heaven's home.
Categories:
garbs, nature,
Form:
Pastoral
The queen of my heart lies here in state today, and my heart throbs,
Breaking like the darkness of any day, when she rose from her bed
And through rain and cold found her way in peasant haste and garbs
To scrub the pots, the clothes, the floor so her castle was fed.
I cannot regret her life, nor the hard gales of familiar poverty
It was her choice. My mother, Esther Jackson, in her simple life
The mold that makes great women virtuous, and wore the purple silk
Only few could see. She taught us them, nay, made us hard for strife:
This merchant ship that brought home bread, drank tea without milk
That we could form the fool in school; her hands were not afraid
To work and we learnt the royal value of industry, and took pride
Like her in doing simple things well. Against our selfishness she laid
The whipping of her tongue, and kept the best things she had inside
For strangers she expect to come. She wasted no oil, and used liberally
The rod of correction, pleading in our ears the cause of the poor
So that even a Balias, unwashed, unloved, found favor at her door.
When she told us to blow out that "Home Sweet Home" lamp, surely
You know she was saving oil, that she may have something to give away
And we may learn a person is never too poor to give, for bounty
Is not from the hands, it is from the heart. I loved this woman, the way
She prayed, calling each name and action to God, praising him happily,
And full of thanksgiving for each pound of flour and codfish she
Was able to cook at dead of night. You cannot measure her industry,
Tilling the soil, or raising hens and children, you do know her here
Whose fingers fumbled through arthritis to sew her children clothes
Who stood like a man, machete in hand, to fight the one who would dare
Disrespect her gate or threatened violence, the thorn upon the rose
Command respect, and her beauty a fragrance we can still smell today.
Our lamp never went out, our clothes had no holes if we cared
Categories:
garbs, deathheart, thanksgiving, heart, may,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I am a real scaredy cat
and there's absolutely nothing that
I could do about that.
I'm scared of 'roaches
I'm scared of rats
I'm scared of spiders
and afraid of bats
I fear all arachnids
and I fear those gnats
Oh I fear all the kinds I find
of those creepy crawly brats!
And but what can I do about that?
Huh and who woudn't fear
a midnight rat-a-tat?
So I've resigned myself to being
a lifelong scaredy cat.
Yeah and I'm scared of heights
Scared of noises at night
Gah, I'm really quick to fright!
I'm scared of grasshoppers and even of dogs
Gosh there's hardly a thing that I ain't scared of.
But I admit I am a timid tigress
otherwise I'm a harmless human who don't hurt a fly
Normally just a normal lady, a humble poetess
I attack only when provoked to the limits
so as I'm a cat after all
I do show my tiger claws if the situation demands
or else I don't mind chickening out
of aggressive and foolhardy involvements.
And maybe if everybody was a coward like me
they wouldn't hurt each other with sheer brutality.
I guess for ladies it's not so bad to be
a bit more cowardly
In any case that's far better than being
a ruffian who's dastardly!
And oh, lastly but not the least
ah yes, I also greatly fear
any lustful male leer
I'd rather I'm invisible to their view
So I really find huge refuge
in the dear divine idea that exhorts me to
to drape and wrap myself from top to toe
in flowing garbs when I step outdoors
and that veiling attire does make me brave
as I feel vulnerable no more
and that's when I feel the transformation from lil kitty
into the big cats
from scaredy cat to formidable tigress
and that's when for once there's NOTHING I fear anymore! :)
as I go out veiled in soft armour from top to toe.
And I feel I can face the chauvinistic foe
Categories:
garbs, fear, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
white snow crab must wade
in oily, thick, blackened tides...
dressed in widow's garbs
7/7/19
haiku-hue Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
Categories:
garbs, ocean, pollution,
Form:
Haiku
You have been persecuted.
You have been oppressed and depressed,
Wronged and aggrieved, even violated,
And for what?
Because of gender,
Because your body lacks a certain appendage,
Your chest is more pronounced, or your voice more pleasant?
You have been slighted.
You have been affronted and blasphemed against,
Insulted and abused, your rights neglected
And why?
Because of your orientation,
Because you chose to love another man,
You’re not attracted to the same thing that men like me are?
I know you hear me,
Because we all have been disregarded.
Why have you been dismissed?
Punished and censored,
Rebuked and cast aside, sometimes battered,
Ask the world why?
Because of the color of your skin,
Because your tan does not match that of another,
Your lips are fuller and your hair has more texture.
You have been shunned.
You have been ostracized and badgered daily,
Bullyragged and junked, even tainted,
And for what?
Because of your religion,
Because you have faith in God,
You say grace or pray five times each day?
Hear me NOW!
You have been besmirched and blemished
Shackled and shattered
Crucified and cursed
But why?
Why?
Because you must persevere
You must triumph and persist
You must overcome and conquer, even rejoice
And for what?
So that the next man who loves another man
Or the next woman who feels unequal
Child that feels different
Or for the next man’s whose faith becomes fragile
For them.
For these people we suffer
We take their burden
So tomorrow they can walk with their heads high above adversity.
For their children.
So their children will know not of the experiences of these hardships.
Today we brave the senseless hatred,
Tomorrow we smile
As the next generation finds a love we were able to receive.
Today we must not judge so that tomorrow they will not judge us.
We will not be angry at those who cannot understand us,
Instead we show pity.
PITY!
We pity them,
Their incapacity to open their minds and welcome anyone who differs from them.
Today we live this day
Today we wear the garbs of misfortune
Today we live so tomorrow will not live today over
Today
TODAY!!
Categories:
garbs, gender, meaningful, race, religious,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
So, you think my poems obscene? Read Catullus.
Graffiti-ed lavatories are more apt sites
for his scatological puerile poem writes.
Yet, today his leather bound tomes enthrall us.
Vicariously momentarily shot
back over two thousand years I get to watch
as he skewers harlots, fools and others such;
poetically, of course; who strut what they ought not.
Lesbia and her sparrow charm both him and
me, but she runs off with another; his sharp barbs
pursue. Now's my big chance; might my modern garbs
catch his eye? I'll boast he my poems scanned.
They don't; more's the pity. But he's so witty,
I fear he'll read my lines as merely pithy.
Categories:
garbs, on writing and words,
Form:
Sonnet
Indeed, a strange wedding cake!
This is real strange, I must say.
You must absolutely hear this, I pray.
Almond marzipan, on stands masked with black chocolate;
Candy laces and ribbons made its beautiful garbs.
I ponder; why in God’s name, eat all these carbs!
Seriously, are these black Fondant roses I see here?
Quite an evolution from our traditional bride’s pie!
Well…what does this imply?
Dreading a wedding life with dark future
or does it symbolize breaking off with past lovers;
Invited surely to take the party's leftovers!
As the knife cut through innocent white,
dark jelly oozes out and trickles down the levels,
staining the spotless damask into perfect designs of devils!
Red marmalade takes its turn to flow down into rivulets.
The bride and the bridegroom poke a finger, each
to share it and I hear a spine chilling screech…
All I see is their demoniac grin as I make it to the exit!
22/02/17
Contest 'Relishing cake' by Julia Ward
8th prize out of 10 - Glory
Judged 7/03/17
Categories:
garbs, adventure, celebration, food, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
At this lonely hillside road
I feel the aroma of nature
from the shading trees at the roadside.
No stench, no garbage dump here
the aroma I felt long ago
today i inhaled deep into my heart.
That old banyan tree by the rill
wearing a ceremonial cotton cloth
for the old Deity residing on it.
I wish a moment
if the nymphs carry me away,
to their old realm creepy.
These quaint beings if wearing
customary garbs,speaking old languages
which from amongst us vanishing.
Here at this peaceful hillside
a moment I felt
the aroma of the past.
Categories:
garbs, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Come see the dying of the day;
It truly is a sight to see –
The way the last of rays caress
The sighing visage of surrounding trees;
The way the shadows fill the ground
With silent streams of cooling shade –
Where mourning doves come take their rest,
And coo their last of soothing serenades;
Here bluest marble skies are clothed
In flowing garbs of blackest night;
And evening clouds, like lovers, part
To trail away behind the starry lights
How soon the sun does pass away!
How beautiful is her retreat! –
As she bids mute farewell to day
With violet ribboned majesty
And though the others turn and grieve
To think where all the time has gone,
I’ll fix my gaze within the void
‘Til all her raveled beauty comes undone.
Categories:
garbs, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
before we can sustain any type of relationships in this life
we need to have the right relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ
Jesus said that the first commandment is to love the Lord
and the second is to love thy neighbor with the same accord
but the problem is when it comes to love some African- americans don't have a clue
as a people of color we're dealing with racism and PTSS too
Post Traumatic Slavery Syndrome has on my people taken a toll
as we don't know how to love nor how to achieve that goal
Black on Black crime occurs more than any other criminal stat
as it's about taught behavior and how to life we react
we were enslaved, we were degraded, we were never shown how to love
is it a wonder that as a people we have difficulty in rising above?
we need to reorientate our thinking about those things
that symbolize trouble and strife
to look past society's stereotypical words that have affected our lives
black ice, black cat, black magic, dark horse and of course black ball
just because we are Black we don't have to perpetrate
the self-hatred into which we're apt to fall
we need to love to love ourselves and not look for validation in designer garbs
we need to love to love ourselves and realize we're all images of God
we don't need to measure our worth in terms of what society deems
we're children of the Most High God and by the blood we've been redeemed
it was a Black man named Simon who assisted Jesus with His cross to Calvary
and a Black man named Barak Obama now holds the office of the USA Presidency
we need to learn to love ourselves just for who and what we are
just like the Lord God loved us from the very start
so let go of the rage, let go of the hate and let go of that age old grudge
forgive as Jesus forgave those who tormented Him and spilled His blood
no longer to be angry, no longer to be mad and no longer to feel rejected
moving forward in God's grace knowing that your're wanted, loved and respected
learn to love yourself and then your love for God
and your neighbor will come through
learn to love yourself with a positive mindset
and an outlook on life that's brand new
Categories:
garbs, black african american, faith,
Form:
Didactic
Solely self inflicted
Jury Judged Convicted
On them I've fed
Salty years I've bled
A society in form, though not in norm
Their eyes rake as headless mouths intake
A knotted pine snake heedless to participate,
I am in the middle of a thirst that slaked so little...
I freaked when steel teeth gleamed brittle solutions;
A fistful of retribution means bitter restitution.
Oh Give me the civic salivation,
In this petri dish of a nation!
Drench in cream, stir in oil, I will never eat that!
With blow hards and carbs, and ministries of garbs;
You're not wolf, you're wolfs dying breath contained.
As bloody sheets and gray streets bleed blood into shame,
Where monkey thimbles play rat -a -tat – tat on your heart...
And mind games are healthy missteps into tripped up reality,
While hat tricks plagues a story played by mindless pricks
And lightening strikes thrice on thunder driven carrion.
Touche.
Categories:
garbs, allegory, angst, passion, political,
Form:
Heroic Couplet
MY MOTHER
See her laden and brimming with the sheaves
On a hilly furrowed plane shrouded by leaves
Her way homewards she plods and heaves.
See her joggles on the spinning wheel
A textile she winds out the cotton reel
And made many hue garbs with great skill.
See her broil as she stirs the broth in the tripod;
Day by day the market and stream she trod
And fetch fire woods and make fine wares of gourd.
See her sit on a stool, behind the moon wanes;
She enacts folklores of ancient reigns,
Of men and animals, plants and bizarre planes.
See her upon her breasts life’s incubi weigh
As all her offspring upon her tender bosom lay
She cossets them from womb to tomb till she’s grey.
Categories:
garbs, appreciation, devotion, for her,
Form:
Couplet