Best Gust Poems
All were gone in the gust of wind.
Not yet fully grown up into a woman
She was to leave home for a man.
What type of rules are they that bind?
Young girls to quit family for another
And before time, be already a mother.
None ever bothered to know her mind.
Before she could understand her roles,
Confined she was to daily filling of bowls
And nursing babies, to which she resigned.
One day, he died, taking his own life.
Blame she carried of being a bad wife.
Their boy and girl he cruelly left behind.
In hardship for a living, she was hurled.
Hoping her angels would change her world,
Night and day, she toiled blind.
One day, she slept such a sleep deep;
Her lovely angels forever went to sleep
As if fate had kept bad luck all aligned;
For an accidental flame to give them a skelp.
She did not hear them crying for help
While they burnt alive in room confined!
28/08/16
Contest:Best Sad Poem EVER - Laura Loo (Placed 2nd)
Based on a real incident where two adolescents burned alive last week
on the first floor. The mother did hear them crying for help but too late.
(Partly fictional)
I
languish
beach side on
a blanket by
an azure ocean
perspiring profusely.
Then comes a soothing coolness
wafting its wonder over me.
It fans my sun-drenched face bringing me
refreshment and breathing sweet peace to me.
It whispers in my ear tranquility;
lying on my back, I’m so at ease.
Oh, gentle gust, you are my balm
on this sweltering day of
July. Oh summer wind,
with all the magic
you possess, please
linger long,
blessing
me.
Our vicar was describing Hell
When it suddenly rung a bell
I dreamed that in Paris
I climbed up a Ferris
Then on to the Tower I fell .....
Where sorrow and silence reigns
When all words are used up
The bottomless grief
Loss gives the feeling of hopelessness
You fell asleep so quiet when the journey was over
Goodbye to nature and animals you were so fond of
We feel a emptiness, yet you are close
You were for us all so dearly loved
* In memory of a friend who died today
Astrid, died too young
16.07.2017
(unrhymed couplets)
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Cloudy, sun filled skies,
The breeze composes its odes:
For the love of trees.
On a crisp winter gust of wind he blew in.
Rousing me to wakefulness as he gently touched my skin
Just out of the blue
As if he knew
My existence had grown dim
And I needed him
And now at last I could see
The face to the angel of my fantasies
He rescued me
Just like a dream
I never believed would be
Released from hurtful negativity
He set me free
It was like looking into a mirror
I saw his soul of shimmer
A duplicate of mine
Destined to be combined
A placid giant in my eyes
He was the best of the human race
Secure in his arms of protection
I was greatly adored and with that safe
With a patient understanding
Simply kind and not demanding
Bringing out the best in me
Inspiring words of poetry
He whipped up a storm of passion in my heart
And with tenderness completed me
For he was my missing part
blossoms-- in one gust
how was the wind to know
it held such beauty
“How-do-you-do?” the seminal leaves of Autumn wave.
“When would you like to fly away?” prickles the gust.
Maternal-oak holds on tight as one birdy takes flight.
The gust will have none of this ballyhoo, knowing
what he must do, calls for fingernails-on-chalkboard rain,
for the bad-wolf-wind, for lightning, insane.
“Toodle-loo,” says each spiderling-leaf, parachuting to earth.
They make such a scene; whirligig and wandering,
each drenched in colloquial colors, memorable, forsaken.
Each one in turn catches a potential eye even as it lands
in puddles, whirling and twirling, a final splash. They mourn
as blends of orange, yellow and red bleed into the stream.
Undignified, decomposing, going under, all poetry spent,
dwarfing and drifting; washed away down the drain.
Spring regeneration haphazardly avoids loose-leaf goosebumps.
Two wraiths in a gust in-between frames with a Third
...was it when i bumped into you last
a little put out by the awkwardness
something not willed not even by chance
who knows an air of Oh please spare me the excuse
eyes darting from cheek to contorting lips
the turning breeze curling into your bitten bud of an ear
expiring burnt breath
just the intimate release of breathless control
shifting feet somewhere in some other film frame
a door closing creaking in the soft amber sheen
of the flickering street lamp
was it in another slot
of time held in some half-remembered patched-up reel
footsteps slap quick-shuffled the soundtrack dragging the heels
The Third Man
down wet cobbled stones claroscuro classic
withholding comment
no time to grasp even the outstretched hand
a finger or two trailing no the index thumb and Mount of Venus
ever so lightly alerting the eyes yet for a fractured second
averting eye-contact slicing presences
or was it just that i wished to overlook the rebuff
thwart the unkindest cut into my roiling belly juices
the day you took careful aim
for some slight some mite of a pain complaint
a moment so gossamer thin so ephemeral no trace lingers
in the wind-swept thrusts of the pulse in the brain
does one hesitate in the accusing hour
an old sagging man cap in hand wordless and wan
hardly daring to lift lame will and sorry self
for once the back is turned no thoughts
of humped puffing breath bathing the cheeks
the lips the bacteria baked unbrushed stench
and the less than hoped-for wish trailing aghast
when next we stumble and slip
from one another's grasp...
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
As I look back, my love, I see smoke not the ashes
And finally I come to see the truth
Just as we are we were made, by our hearts and so we
paved the roads that built our Rome
Like a gust of fresh air,
you're my spring tide,
foreverness,
my eternal constant love
Years seemed so kind, just as sands of the oceans
Like beggars we've stolen times grandiose
Sailing through tears, leaving sorrow and fear
we chartered to see our hopes renewed
Like a gust of fresh air,
you're my spring tide,
foreverness,
my eternal constant love
The world was our carpet, the heavens our comfort
How high could our union spread its wings
Yet it's hard to believe, where there were two now lives emptiness,
A world without you is just plain despair
Yet... Like a gust of fresh air,
you're my spring tide,
foreverness,
my eternal constant love
Wind
Stills hearts
Writing light
Into the souls
Who believe the night
Is meant to write her dreams
Into the music who flows
Across the gentle life who sees
Beyond the hills, the trees, into hearts
Who know what it means to give completely
Hearts are meant to offer the sweetest grace
Pouring love out to heal the worst pains
Reminding that love is always
A light, a hope, a desire
To be loved and adored
With the gift of light
Who brings insight
Into those
Who hear
Gusts
Today while enjoying
morning walk in a garden
fortuitously
a gust of fresh wind
touching my cheeks
moved ahead and
my body experienced
a super natural
vibration all over
as if new energy
were infused in me
by that gust of wind and
taught me to make
nature my best friend
for jubilant, energetic and
hilarious life
such was the soft touch
of energetic wind
(By Kishan Negi)
Fresh from Pentecost, our celebration
moved to lunch in the Rectory garden,
with views to the coast, for inspiration.
Spread on tablecloths we'd hardly begun
the quiche, ham, tomatoes, salad, or pies
when a westerly gust lifted our fare –
cloths and paper plates with lettuce and fries.
We reached out to grab our lunch from the air!
So rising to the challenge we gathered
and ate as fast as we could, in laughter
sharing fragments of what had been scattered,
at one as we'd been before the Altar.
Such was the tease of the Holy Spirit
to which we responded I felt with credit.
you better than anyone
know the power of words
their careful selection
their perfect timing
mostly though you know
the power of reserve
of holding back
of innuendo
the suggestion with nothing said
no commitment
no evidence
no trace
the knock
the open door not entered
like the wind there and gone
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~THE RIGHT TIME~ 2023
AP: 2nd place 2023, Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2022
Where bold breezes blow a wondrous world awakes,
they swaddle silken scenes that surround so many,
fresh air is an awesome advantageous aspect all told,
it inspires instantly without waver whatsoever,
empowered energetic edge to species human,
and amazing animals as one might often observe,
inhale invigorating images imbued that tantalise the rapt rambler,
magic meadow mindfulness gets a great gee up,
from well-found winds which waft,
woo and weave surreal semblance sumptuous,
when poets pause perhaps divine delightful dizains descend,
iridescence infinite inkling as angel aura atmospheres alights,
gust of golden genesis glad guest most warmly welcome,
shell strewn sea shore surface swept,
kaleidoscopic knots kindle conduits creative channel,
bard on boundless beach befitting benefit,
oodles of ornate overarch saline squall sequesters,
petrichor’s proboscis pleasure pick up post downpour,
quixotic quintessential quest quenched by fabulous fairytale flurry,
daylight dazzle’s deft dip driven by draught