Best Gloried Poems
Break forth, o dawn! Rise up and sing the sun
from underneath the hills into the light.
Put out the crimson fires and take a run
through azure laced with lazy wisps of white.
To sleep, o moon! It’s time for you to wane
and nestle in below the canopy.
Dear child, there is no need for you to strain
or stretch. Just rest; put off that jealousy!
Stand down, o stars, and watch above them all!
Go, fade away into the bright of day,
and light again to hold them in your thrall
when dark no longer can be held at bay.
The unseen hand thus orchestrates their course,
as they, in turn, reflect their gloried source.
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Like
all of life
this requires effort
perhaps more difficult
than
I could achieve today
but church hymns rang out
the wonders and the gloried awe
while in the shadows poor and sad walked
_______________
and/ \ but
there/ \ no one
she / \ nothing
stood / O \ deterred
small / / I \ \ her purpose
frail / / \ \ not cold or rain
aged / \ neither ice nor snow
in her cumulative years
in her coat and scarf
blushing from her salty falling tears
the house itself, scantly decorated
with colored lights, green, red and blue
in her solitary steps, alone chilled and cold
she walked slow and steady from church to home
and the smile formed deep round upon her waiting face
in tinsel glow with familiar song and softest Christmas lace
one more year welcomed memories came the season of Holy Grace.
Remember the alone during this holiday season, send them a card, a gift, a flower to brighten their day and help them know, they are remembered.
I Corinthians 16:14 - "Let all that you do be done in love"
~
Of all the dear intents that I'm shaped of,
No grand pursuit's more critical than love -
While all the world about me comes apart,
I'm but the soil for Heaven's hope, above.
This life has pushed me, often, to a seam,
The fringe of hell, to see a gloried scheme,
And though it oft' was of my own device,
God used each conflict to define a dream ...
That tho' life's issues have a varied range,
And some may press the definition, strange,
The truest resolution, through God's grace -
It's love ALONE, accomplishes true change.
Tho' it might seem too simple at the start,
The scripture that defines me, does impart
One single truth has been, and yet shall be -
'Tis LOVE, the seed God's sowing in my heart.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "All Yours (Jan 22)" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "Favorite Scripture" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
Was but a shrub, clinging to rocky hill..
when first I strayed in forest aflower.
Er'nt son's return to rose and whippoorwill,
and brook's water glider mossy bower.
Below..,seventeen years cicadas dwelt..
nymphs now grown, sing familiar forest song.
Aligned to moon and stars in homage knelt,
nature's way to right all ruin and wrong.
Seeds are sewn, winds of change how quickly blown,
tree lay down, bough's dream lost coveted cloud.
Heavens soaring branched crown no longer known,
once gloried sunlight, now in earthly shroud.
When last Spring returns Autumn's bounty owed,
the treasured forests Flora wisely sowed.
I buzzed around
Amid our clan’s beesound.
My swarm buzzed in cloud
In beespeak spoke aloud.
But the babble of the bees
Suddenly did cease,
For one with gut swollen,
Legs burdened by pollen,
Dropped out of the swarm
And sounded an alarm.
We came to a rest,
Behaved at our best,
To ken what he’d say,
On this blessed day.
He dropped on the ground,
Did a hop and a bound.
Like showman he pranced,
Strutted and danced,
Clockwise he went,
Clear message he sent.
It was the bees waggle!
It told the straggle
Where lay the flowers,
Nectar and pollen showers!
So off we took to flight,
All of us were light,
To be glutted by dusk,
With bounty of bees' musk!
Basking in the sun,
His waggle now done,
The hero of the bees,
Gloried as the bee’s knees!
Before the cedar learn'd the speech of steel,
Or heartwood yielded to the carpenter,
Its argent rings kept covenant with the weal
Of thawing springs and every pilgrim star.
No bough begrudged the tempest what it took;
Each wound became another living book.
Then came the hands that quarried trunk from loam.
One sought a boundary where lambs might rest;
One sought a crossing, calling strangers home
Across the torrent's vehement unrest.
The timber neither gloried nor complain'd:
It served the purpose into which 'twas grain'd.
Long years I honour'd bridges for their grace,
And deem'd all fences born of timid fear,
Till autumn, in a lichen-haunted place,
Unveil'd a quieter arithmetic there.
An ancient rail, half-vestured now in moss,
Kept not one flower, yet shelter'd all from loss.
Beyond the hill a broken arch was thrown,
Its patient span relinquish'd to the stream.
The river mourn'd no less, yet journey'd on;
It would not counterfeit a perish'd dream.
Some crossings, once unfaithful to their end,
Grow holier by refusing to pretend.
Then first I saw the oak had held no will
To part the meadow or unite the plain.
No fibre cherish'd malice, good, or ill;
No grain distinguish'd blessing, loss, or gain.
The tree gave only what its nature could;
The hand alone interpreted the wood.
I search'd my heart and found, with inward shame,
How many fences I had call'd a scar,
Though they preserv'd what tenderness became;
How many bridges bore me from my star.
For every road I should have left untrod
Had ask'd my feet to wander out of God.
There are estrangements mercy ought to heal—
Proud silences no sunrise should forgive.
There are departures only fire can seal,
Lest dying falsehood counterfeit the live.
Discernment is the rarer, sterner art:
To know which timber waits within the heart.
So now I bless neither the flame nor nail,
Nor praise the wall, nor crown the spanning frame;
I ask but this when love and judgement fail:
What keeps another soul more true to flame?
For wood remembers only how to give.
It is the hand that teaches it
whether to divide—
or let another live.
A Leaf in the Woods 8-6-26
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A Leaf in the Woods
From high above the quiet forest floor
I see the memoirs of the summers passed
Frost eaten veins reveal forevermore
The remnants of a supple life’s repast.
The leaves of maples, umber oak and birch,
Here blend into a testament of life
Prophets gone, tell of once gloried church,
Their voices speak of icy winter’s strife.
Yet I still drink the saps of summer dreams
When galaxies spin through each solstice night
Their symphonies lament the lost moonbeams
Remembering their souls through forest light.
And, when for me this summer passes by
I pray my life to grace will testify.
Ode to Morning
Yon morning, spellbound mistress of the skies
How gently all your feathers move apart
How lightly thrill your soft, eternal sighs
And feed with hope and mirth my swollen heart
How softly sway your tresses of pure gold
And glut with wealth the barren, night-sprent glade
And plump the crisp, brown hazel shells with beams
And cast a light strewn with a cooling shade
Athwart the gentle ebbs of oozing streams
Once quiet, still unravished yet. How bold
Your bubbling swells all cast their glinting charms
Across the earth’s soft cheek and softer breast
Yon morning, wrap the world within your arms
And light each mead with gloried noonday zest
And twine with passioned rays the Heaven’s steep
And cups of all the gem-encrusted buds
And feed the bowers with a web of light
And all the clouds with Lord Apollo’s rods
Of nascent shine to veer away the night
And all the evil spells of its black sleep
Return to us, gold morn with aching pride,
And wake the spirits of the sleeping clouds,
And stir the bees which in the foxgloves hide,
And let the bashful roses pry their shrouds
To feel upon their breasts the cooling breeze
Unfold from out the mountain’s stony rim
The rainbows, looming arches, sundry hued
Gold morn, when midnight’s sleepy glow shall dim
And leas no more shall be by stars bedewed
Then glow, until the lark sings with full ease!
© 2014 Gleb Zavlanov
Ah Gabriel!
How hard a task was laid on you,
how hard the trust,
how hard
to travel through
the empty miles of space
unto a cloistered girl
who knew no man,
to startle her
and race her heart
past fear,
and then announce
strange words --
that she would bear a son of destiny
who would be named
as Yahweh's chosen one.
Was all the gospeling
the holy one commanded you to speak
some comfort to her then?
Or did her face grow white
as stone?
And did her knees collapse
with all the gloried weight of you?
Were you to her
a hollow wind,
within the tensing air
a shadow blurred,
a light askance
just there
beyond the corner of her eye,
an echo of a voice beyond the upland hills?
Or did she know you then for what you are,
God's able bodied one,
God's might,
and look you eye in eye,
and calmly kneel
in smiling awe,
amazed at all the golden splendor
in your wings and wake,
with gentle handmaid's reverence
and, grace inflamed,
said yes,
hands crossed
along her heart,
her belly swelling quick with majesty,
reducing you to tears?
We met under a starry night
And our smiles were bright under heavens light,
And we danced until the morning grew,
And we laughed over a silly story or two,
And we shared our most intimate nature,
And we understood we couldn’t hide anymore fractures,
And we grew together beyond the moment,
And we stepped forward into the present,
And our hearts burst open into the world,
And our thoughts grew peaceful as it stretched and whirled,
And we gave ourselves to all who danced,
And we gloried that we took this chance,
And we continued on each in our own way,
And we laughed with others each and every day,
Until we met again under a starry night,
Where we shared ourselves with hearts open and light.
“ UNSUPPORTED CODE “ ©
Butterflies with purpose
Chrysalis on the wings
Steadfast in their focus
As if remembering
All flowers in each garden
Each petal opening
Velvet-gloried colors
In quiet chorus sing
Flirting synced awaiting
Euphony all within.
C-More ®
Cruel Lessons
I shudder when I ponder on my youth
Of careless choices made in haughty haste--
Forgotten pals that had no use for truth
But gloried in their greed and disregarded waste.
There is no way to rectify my thoughtless sin
No way undo the heartless words I often spoke--
Admittance of my vice may sway a younger kin
Avoid the road, avoid the booze or toke--
But life demands each youth to learn thru pain
Which prances through our secret longing dreams--
Thus caution kindly meant is lost in vain
Youth encaptured by tech-no dramatic schemes—
We’ve forgotten how to speak our hearts
Although, at times, we do our best
Invite young friends to have a meal--
But cannot find our techno guests
So lost without a phone--
Dodge looking eye to eye--
Our guests are living in a “Zone”--
The moment to advise has passed us b.y
How cruel it is to face the painful fact
There is no relief of dark despair
Each one of us cannot turn back--
Must learn from life—but try advice to share.
V Anderson-Throop 2013 ©
Oh Hypnos lord of all the lands of dream,
Whose slumb’rous breath weaves eyes with poppy leaf,
And whose sweet lullabies mortals relieve
Of throes, and shields them from the evil scheme
Of Phobetor who roams around the world at close of eve,
Oh Hypnos, phantom o’er each mossy cot,
Whose gentle, dreamy hands all place to rest
The cooing birds found snoozing in their nest
And all the goats upon the meads where not
A pallid moonbeam can descry, for all’s by night suppressed,
Or mortal denizens in cities, pent
Or gleaming fish found in the ocean’s deep,
Or cattle, waiting in the glens for sleep
To dawn upon their minds, and their souls send
Into Elysium until the morn shall night’s shoots reap,
And plant its gloried beams into the bare
And fill the lands with nec’trous, honeyed rays,
Come on us, god of sleep, unearthly grace
From out the shadows of your mystic lair,
And spread across our waking minds your thick, morphean haze.
How much I’ve agonized and yearned to gain
The lavender and eat such dozy bud,
And try to fall asleep, and ever nod
As I get lost and stray in dream’s domain,
But never have I had success for slumber I could not!
I roamed across the clouds of yester night
And round the meadows of the yesteryear,
But never can I my bright spirit steer
Into such sleep, and take upon my flight
Into deep slumber’s den, until, Hypnos you did appear,
And eased my mind and soul, and with your spells
Had quelled the raging passions of my heart,
And carefully had closed the draws to part,
Once you had done your deed and slowed the swells
Of my free spirit, and had my sore mind with slumbers barred…
© 2014 Gleb Zavlanov
Early summer flowering deciduous shrubs,
And I among them came and went with
Philadelphus virginalis,
Their brightening solar ships.
Its natural tendency is to grow vase-shaped,
Clipping encourages the plant to fill out
And become dense, and in my final spring
It performed beautifully, flowering prolifically.
Mock orange is not a heavy feeder.
It loves sun and reads memories
On cactus leaves with sideways glares,
Though on an "established" plant,
One should prune out about one-third
Of the old growth (the trivialities of life's Agur),
Allowing the gloried lightness of day
To seize upon bright green leaves.
Bright summer day; the midday sun glowing high in the sky
Beaming down on sunflowers as they turn their heads to follow it
The afternoon gloried with yellow illumination
Sijo Poem Poetry Contest/Winner(Honorable Mention)
Sponsored by: Heidi Sands
Date written and posted: 05/26/2018