Best Greyish Poems
What pleasant dream may soothe my eyes
When autumn's breath may grace our days
Wondrous a dream in the blazing sunrise
That charms my heart in autumn's grace.
I've kissed a dream when I look into your eyes
That springs my face like vibrant flowers
In all the bright and sober hours
When the mortal breath of men may sigh.
Entranced within your loving eyes
While greyish skies grow young and fair
You threw your emerald eyes upon me
That you may arose this tender tear.
The eternal rose of love I've found
When all is lost and life is done
What perfect dream this life would crown
Dulce de las fuentes de mi corazón.
Your lingering scent bathes the empty spaces
When the silent pulse of morn would murmur
While melodies would draw its sweetest verses
To bless the earth on which you saunter.
Then the storming winds would pluck
The last of the fragrant roses
As to drift to you my dear beloved
When your gentle soul reposes.
Beneath a naked tree nodding in the winds
At the threshold of the withering buds
As bright as the rays on the trembling seas
Lapping in the mournful distance.
Categories:
greyish,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh imperceptible storm looming mighty as we walk,
secure is its claim as volatile manipulator.
The sun hides behind the insensitive violation,
the rugged moor top grows shapeless within the greyish shroud.
The day gives way to manifestation, illusions cast
as folk stagger habitually along life’s broadway.
My mother clasps a tiny hand, just happens to be mine,
the sun fights back peeps through the cloud, a shaft of light appears.
“One day you and I” she says “Will travel upon that light,
sent down every day for us, this the stairway to heaven.”
So many questions come to mind after these pensive years,
the day I buried my mother, a shaft of light appears!
© Harry J Horsman 2013
Categories:
greyish, day, dedication, light, sun,
Form:
Couplet
The fire pit has been made
The kindling has been laid
The match was put to the dry, dry wood
And the flames began to play
The fire now is burning bright
The coffee pot is on
It is the way to start the day
On this cloudy, misty morn
The quiet of the darkened night
Flowed back thru greyish mounds
The moon was playing hide and seek
With drifting wispy clouds
A shadow blanketed the camp again
Closing out the morning light
The breeze then chased a leaf down hill
Like a windblown handmade kite
The icy hued moon was sliding
It soon would leave our sight
The hope for sun should soon come about
From this sharp and frosty night
And from the sky quite unexpectedly
Came rain drops as big as grapes
It pattered through the shroud of trees
A whooshing sound it makes
The raindrops hit the burning logs
With a hissing reptile sound
That caused an apparition of pure-white smoke
To eerily hug the ground
As fast as the rain began to fall
It just as quickly did dismiss
And lanching shafts of sunlight
Replaced the lingering patchy mist
The sleepy woodlands did then awake
To the grandeur of a brand new dawn
And flitting through that peerless sky
The birds began their morning song!
Categories:
greyish, april,
Form:
Rhyme
As fathers go, I used to say, I thought he was alright
took the work wherever he could and kept our fire alight.
Brylcreem hair , good muscle tone, a boxer's solid build
army tour in Burma where his discipline was drilled
his right and wrong were black and white, he clearly drew the line
step beyond, by God you knew it- otherwise, you're fine.
Skilled with hands to sketch and whittle, genius with a saw
and musical- Harmonica (Sunday evenings) at his jaw.
But as years passed there came the cloud which we had all been fearing
lungs and heart all damaged from industrial engineering.
Powerless, no air nor strength, a pallor greyish-blue
from bed to armchair, back again was all that he could do.
The rules now changed, they had to, as to what the future be
so life played spin the bottle, and the bottle stopped at me.
Carrying the gasping shell with all the strength I had
fate's wind had turned the weathervane and boy became the dad.
Until that August, '81 , time off for good behaviour
final release and went in peace through the mercy of the Saviour.
I stood outside and cried and cried , my only words were 'Dad',
the weathervane took pity and blew back, and kissed the lad.
For competition 'Patriarchy' by Thomas Martin
14th July 2015
Categories:
greyish, dad,
Form:
Rhyme
Many years it had been since Sir Heathcliffe was home,
He had travelled in countries abroad;
He left in his grief at the death of his wife
While he wrestled with sorrow and God.
He had been round the world, and his troubles had too,
And the thought of his daughter was one:
He dreamed yesternight of her eyes greyish-blue,
And he cried, "Heavens, what have I done?!"
Thus it was that he stood at his very own gate,
Yet unknown to his daughter within;
And he prayed, "Lord, I hope that I've not come too late!
That she lived while away I have been."
First she opened the door and she bobbed down the stairs,
Then she skipped with a smile down the walk,
No thought all the while of her father's shocked stares
Till she stopped with her hand on the lock;
Then she covered her lips and she whispered, "Oh, my!
You're the man on the mantel for sure!
I've asked for ten years, but without a reply
Who the man and the pretty girl were."
And he said, "I'm your father who's been gone so long,
And that angel, your mother who died:
Forgive me for leaving, I realise 'twas wrong;"
And he could not go on, but he cried.
For he looked right into eyes of pale greyish-blue,
And he felt the same rush of surprise
As when years, years ago, with a pair that he knew,
"There's an angel," he said, "in your eyes."
Then she opened the gate, and they fondly embraced
In a place where a young couple kissed;
It was then all the pain of the years was erased,
And the guilt of the life he had missed.
"One angel," said he, "went away from my eyes,
But the other, I left of my own;
Till the day that I go to my bride in the skies
You will never again be alone."
~Written by Isaiah Zerbst on October 11th, 2013~
Categories:
greyish, daughter, loss, prayer, sad
Form:
Rhyme
This in the greyish clouds I see
My lover's eyes like a phoenix flame
It's honeyed glow melted into me
When the mist drifted upon the plains.
A presence of calming reasssurance
That I'd suffer not this life alone
A whisper of hope,a sweet entrance
You've given in this life forlorn.
Each day brings its thorn and gloom
Each day a tear,each day a feared
Wretched,joyless,boundless doom
When mute is the springtime air.
But you've armed my heart with joy
And lipped my soul with grace
When the world sought to destroy
Your love beaming down my face.
Categories:
greyish, angel, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Gnarled and woody its base erupts with
Greyish green leaves, all veiled in hairs,
That contain the magic oil,
To balance the body.
Scented mauve flowers
Added in tea,
Perfect drink,
Relax
Me.
My first attempt at a nonet. Inspired by reading one by Emile Pinet.
Categories:
greyish, body, drink, flower, green,
Form:
Nonet
MAGNIFICATION
------------------
Close up, the rare metal
shows me its greyish form:
no dots or dashes here.
A disappointment,
for I heard once a scientist say
that under microscopes
the dots and dashes seem to bleep
a Morse code that would save the world and more.
Categories:
greyish, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
So what's your status,
Nimbostratus?
Are you here to stay, like old Aunt Gladys?
- To rain and rain until we're glad it's
Not for you to own the day,
But eventually must fade away
Before the steady strugglings of the sun
Which must break through once they've begun
To tear apart your greyish gloom
And give the sunlight proper room
To push along those friendly, fluffy clouds
Through blue skies where you're not allowed.
So go thy way, ignoble cloud!
Carry off that misty shroud
Below which you have so confined us,
And let us put thy wet behind us
And revel in the newborn sun,
It's warmth welcome to everyone.
You overstay your station here
Far beyond what would appear
A decent spate of soft rainfall;
Your prescence doth begin to pall
When you hover close from day to day.
All caught beneath wish you away,
And confer on you non-gratis status,
O aggravating nimbostratus!
Categories:
greyish, funny, naturerain, rain,
Form:
Light Verse
SO MUCH DEPENDS...(Inspired by The Fault in Our Stars)
So much depends upon the girl with red current meandering from her woman
And the clots of clumped up thoughts that occasionally disturb her flow.
So much depends on the wisdom from her oval shaped head
And the greyish-pink lips
How from her round belly an eruption of ‘woke’ perspectives
Has to leave others with a need to be introspective
“So much depends on this observer of the universe”
Her views hanging from the sides like ovaries
To provide boundaries
So she can never be too sinful, too deceitful, too proud
Too round, dark , round
Sinful;
Deceitful;
Unkind
So much depends on the girl in the African print caftan and a bandana on her short processed hair
Fearful of oblivion
Trembling before disappointment
Stake in back while she too wields one against another
Never too good, never too honest
Her only decency in her merciful lies
Her only fault is being faulted
And that is before she takes a good look in the mirror
So much depends on the girl with short manicured nails with transparent nail polish,
Pecking away at the keyboard while hoping tears will flow
Because all that’s at play within her is too inward
Relentlessly refusing to flow out
So much depends on her sockets to let out tears, the kind that fall naturally and heavily
So much depends on her other half
To explain the sudden outburst of betrayal, what is allegiance?
But she knows not to poke those demons
For they may wake up with renewed zeal
Close a chapter while your hands still work
Goodbye to that song that was the anthem in your special little earth,
Heaven is your only haven
Heaven is your only haven
If only you show your worth.
“So much depends on this observer of the universe.”
Written on 25/12/15 after a very long, beautiful and blessful (poetic licence anyone) day.
Categories:
greyish, how i feel, hurt,
Form:
Bio
I woke up early in the morning, on
My canopy snug bed laid on
Stinks,I managed to stifle my yawn
I remember
I remember my war
War in my life
War in my life
I breath heavily
I almost choked by fumes
In bundle,I packed my belongings
Thinking of what to eat
I have no where to stay
For the day
I have noting to do for feeding
Relative sent me away because I am noting
I walk around the street
Sometimes,I stand,bend,and knee
Begging for money to feed
I heard this proverb says, if there
Is life there is hope
Hope, hope,hope for me in this world
Now that I am old
Greyish hair on my head
If I heard something about thirty minute
Ago,hardly will I remember
I have not much to live in life
When will I have halcyon day in my life?
Can I still be optimism or I should hope
To be fortune in the
Hereafter?,I mumbled alone.
8/10/15
for shhhhhh contest sponsor by Silent one.
Categories:
greyish, absence, abuse, adventure, age,
Form:
Ode
On my first trip to the outback across the endless plains,
I saw a harsh and hungry land in pastel coloured stains.
There are more secrets out there, than sun and shifting sand -
It would take more than my lifetime to ever understand.
I saw Eagles, Wrens and Butcherbirds; Kangaroo and Emu,
blending with the Saltbush, in Mallee scrub and Heathland too.
Choughs flock along the roadside. Bearded Dragons soak up sun;
a King Brown sweeps with lightning speed; a Goanna on the run.
A sight to behold my thirsty eyes; a lake filled blue and wide,
big as any ocean I have seen. I could not see the other side,
Wildflowers bloom with coloured heads; purple, red and blue.
The Eremophila and Cassia display, a dull but greyish hue.
Black dots littered 'cross the surface in their thousands do amaze.
Ducks, Pelicans, Swans and Coots - further than the shimmering haze.
Long legged Stints with sticky beaks tread sand along the shore.
Swallows skimmed the water - what fish surfaced I'm not sure.
To stand alone amid this beauty, surely, too few of us will see.
Below the skies unending azure blue - vastness runs away from me.
I get the chance to have reflection now 'bout hardships in my hand,
but troubles in my life seem small when casting eyes across this land.
Once I left the sandy shoreline, this reflection stayed a while
etching past the endless Saltbush, which grows mile after mile.
And the dry and dusty plains return where water’s hard to find -
I yearn for comforts of my home - yet crave the views I left behind.
Categories:
greyish, beauty, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Sav[i]our
The white winter mist encases my lungs,
Like the smoke of my last cigarette did;
Sweet, soothing, real. But like me, not bitter.
For the longest of times, I could not speak.
I could not sing, and then I could not laugh.
But now, I am no longer bitter.
I sat to write a her a hundred words,
And in the end, wrote another thousand.
But not a single word was for her eyes.
Not a single word of anger or tears.
Instead I wrote hope and prosperity.
The nymph for which I went and sold my heart,
Was left in a drawer, on a high shelf.
Under the scrutiny of raven hair,
Of eyes tinted with a greyish blue hue,
I began penning my soul once again.
For were once I was cautious, I was warmed.
The cold ice of the long winter was gone,
And the sweet spring budded in November.
Though I cannot say what the future holds,
I can tell of what I am certain.
I hold her mind in such a high regard,
An intellect of lustful rivalry.
And how beautiful she is, that seraph.
Cast from the highest of heavenly hosts,
And dragged from the most tempting of the depths,
She fascinates my mind, speeds up my heart,
Intoxicates the very core of me.
Her petite frame on my poor, aching chest
Makes the finest hairs on me stand on end,
As the cold hands of dead loves claw at me.
I could lay an age in that enthralling bed,
Drunk from sweet wines, and the sound of her voice,
Sharing and baring our minds, common ground.
But the future is not our's to decide,
So let fate carry us, but on slow tides.
Categories:
greyish, absence, angel, anger, beauty,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
Birds flying away, scattering greyish skies
Ebullient landscapes changing with sunrise
Autumn arriving briskly with chilling air
Umbrellas opening yelling November beware
Trees undressing with full colors displaying
Illusive temperatures plummeting and staying
Falling leaves mastering paintings, Van Gogh
Underground creatures are sleeping below
Layered attire the welcoming fashioned show
Flavoring pumpkin-pies admits porches sitting
Ambient acoustics within rapid rains spitting
Labor Days relaxing before open schooling
Leading equinox of September tools cooling.
...can also be read backward
Skies greyish, scattering away flying birds
Sunrise with changing landscapes, ebullient
Air chilling briskly with arriving Autumn
Beware, November yelling opening umbrellas
Displaying colors full, with undressing trees
Staying and plummeting temperatures illusive
Van Gogh paintings mastering leaves falling
Below sleeping are creatures underground
Show fashioned, welcoming the attire layered
Sitting porches admits pumpkin-pies flavoring
Spitting rains rapid within acoustics ambient
Schooling opening before relaxing days labor
Cooling tools, September of equinox leading.
Sept.06.2018
Beautiful fall Poetry
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Placed 2'nd
Categories:
greyish, autumn, environment, nature,
Form:
Acrostic
At Rotterdam in Netherlands
I made plenty of window friends
I could reach out to them
whenever I missed my own
friends and near ones back home.
The window facing the South unfolded
the beautiful, enchanting river Masse.
Its simmering and quivering depths reflected
the multitudenal colours of historic city it nurses.
The bright sunny days with clear blue skies
Were often dotted with jets with gaseous, white, long tails
Criss crossing randomly in all directions
expressing the vastness of freedom and joy.
The golden setting sun
sprinkled the mature shades of
orange and red and yellow
in the reflective silver flows of the Masse,
slowly admitting its failure
to defreeze the lakes and snows around
and to warm up the cockles
of the easterlies which travel
far from Russia on a typical winter day,
before being engulfed by
dark and grey clouds at the horizon
like a surrendering fugitive.
The act of humbleness of the mighty sun
the only energy source of our universe
betrayed the celeberative mood of the city lights
which danced proudly on the flowing waters of Masse at night.
The frame of the window facing the North
helped me rendezvous with few more friends
the historic church there
stood in its monolithic glory
kissing the sky with its long Needle thin tower
its clock religiously reminding us
of the duties that we had to perform,
could not be missed by anyone.
Looking down at the street below
the empty red and yellow trams of RET
curled in sleepily into their shelter
at Strissenburgdwarsstrat
for a well deserved rest
after having served the varied commuters
of the city of Rotterdam.
Not too far in the distance
beyond the red brick and brown brick roofs
and amongst bare trees
I could also spot a wind mill,
its huge wings rotating leisurely
ever challenging the winds to come faster.
From either of the windows
I could let my imagination fly
and accompany the lovely
seabirds to limitless ends
the greyish white winged beauties
were enticed closer to me
when I opened the window panes
with crumbs of bread for them,
thrilling me with their aerobics.
When I came back home from there,
and met my native friends again
I started to miss all these new friends of Rotterdam.
RET: Rotterdam Electric Tram (Rotterdamse Elektrische Tram)
Categories:
greyish, city, friend, nostalgia, universe,
Form:
Free verse