Best Gusted Poems
Old Maid Hadder, Got Madder And Madder
Old maid Hadder, got madder and madder
wind blew her bonnet and wet upon it.
Soaking showers from a blackbird's bladder
taken aback, next she fell doggone it!
Did not matter, her day in a tatter
rain pouring down, gave her another frown.
Wind drove and gusted all the more at her
in her shame she felt even more a clown!
She could never rise not that it matters
her sad life now placed her in such tatters.
Her legs exposed showed fatter and fatter
with no lover, simply did not matter!
Sad tale of a mad, old lady Hadder.
To get up, had to use a step ladder.
Robert J. Lindley, 10-17-2015
English sonnet- (modern)
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 109
The wind gusted over the forsaken hills
The grasp of its strong, imperishable hands causing a trill of noise
Echoing and rebounding over the delicate curves of the Earth.
The smell of strong grasses and pollens stuck to the winds never ending lungs
Sending both dirt and leaves rustling amidst the scene
Trees and abundances of green licked at the delicate breeze,
As the dance of the sky was mimicked nonchalant by the jubilant bees
The worries of winter long gone
Due the brightening days of the freshly bathed dawn.
unexpected changes
winds belied August
gusted from October cold
geese are flocking now.
Unconventional, they mocked the establishment
Clad in paisley tops and bell-bottom denim,
With a symbol hanging on necks wrists or belts -
An emblem of inverted V , the birth of protest
Where murmurs from unrest gusted through lyrics,
In Woodstock of dreams hailing Baez, Hendrix, Dylan
As flower-power’s youth signaled change…
People of the 60s wrapped in love, not Vietnam rage!
Although experimental, they rallied a quest
For oneness, for a gentler‘ Blowing in the Wind,’
They lived on the streets to ignite an ideal
Which flashed ardor illuminating hearts,
In a kinship which assuaged a decade, lost
To claim their anthem, ‘peace begins with me;’
Embracing a norm with the grace of harmonious light.
For Richard Lamoureux's People Contest
6/6/2018
Fertile Fields
By Migdalia Torres
A cobbled stone made of red brick, which
I picked up and placed on a solid white
rock pressed against Venus whose tales of
Fertile Fields were just not true
The myths of the Greek Goddess Blue Moon
which shined against the Valleys Green Tall Fields
brought to mind of a Paper Copy Photo I had
of her riding upon a Big Charade of Fire, being pulled
by Two White Pegasus
I started to walk alone in the Center of the
Field, when suddenly a Big Strong Breeze
blew the photo out of my hands and into a
Big Leafless Oak Tree
Then a Storm gusted Tornado Wind blew and raise
the old photo past the clouds and into the
midnight sky
Good-Bye I waived to the paper photo
You are right to be set free
The Fertile Fields will become fertile once again when all the
Greek Goddesses join Venus and come down as friends
Wild is the winding wind
blowing breezy gentle
blatantly bold unafraid
blustery brisk squalled
weaved whipping zephyrs
wreathing wriggled gales
whirlwind wafting chinooks
flurry fluttering tempest
fury fist furled typhoons
feisty folded twists
circling coiled distortions
cyclone current mistrals
curvy cued loops
chilling spiraled gusted breath.
Oh, God and Goddess are all around us.
from place to place unguided,
they’ve found us.
Land of limpid eyes and skies,
where mystery abounds.
‘Mongst lisping lips, oft heard
Gaelic limericks sound.
While gale gusted winds whip wave
dashed waters to mist;
atop the high cliffs of Moher
the Fairie found us.
I am truly concerned
as i leave my Laskrizon
but,it is a three day's journey
my next black moon destination
I trust all will be well
in my absense
infiltrater's are persistent
Ahpla and pack more than capable
A dreary journey thus far
wind gusted blackened skies
bring stinging rain
Comfort come's from
my two traveling companion's
Nev,an enormous blackest black raven
unseen in the shadows
flies above,or,perches atop tree line
.....my eye's in the sky
appear's to be serious
a misleading perception
his humor keeps us loose
Noila,a proud Puma
her alert ferociousness
scout's perimeter
quiet but deadly in her wisdom
A combined effort
our future's imperil all
only by such collaboration
can unifying forces succeed
" Agemo ! " caw's Nev
immediately I scan the shadows
Nev is a stealth expert
as soon as I spot him I respond,
" yes Nev,you have new's "
" I do indeed,Noila will rest and wait
for us to catch up ! "
a bit frustrated by that comment,
" what do you mean,catch up ? "
Nev now in cackling laughter,
" I told Noila you were dragging
your tail as a rudder in dirt ! "
" that is not funny my friend,
how far her distance ? "
" about a quarter day's sun
at your pace " more laughter...
" relay to Noila,be there shortly
I'll run as the wind "
Suppose some would find
wise cracks annoying
the laughter keeps light hearted...
The budding appearance
On the cylindering lily
The fast forming interference
Heating the night chilly
The bird eyed the sparks
Yielding flowering tickles
Clouds ballooned in the parks
The desire designing the sickles
As the colouring heightened
The river curved and charged
The wind gusted and tightened
The poems clouded and enlarged
The sonnet emailed me
Oranging with glee
19 May, 2018
Sent to the dreary realm that is now my home
Made to seem I had no choice of what I had to lose
Only memories of my mind which I am left to roam
A captive of a battle, a judgment I could not refuse
Maligned by twisted truth, betrayed by ones most trusted
My voice muted by a flow of tears, and told not speak of it
I watch the ship drift away, as the winds of treason gusted
With the dagger of deceit, the most solemn vow was split
I stand alone upon the shore and gaze at what was my land
I look down and see a reflection to see a truth I cannot declare
The truth within my eyes and its sand falling from my hand
To even the balance of justice, the sins I am thought to bear
I cry to the powers, the virtues, and to the Throne
To guide me though treacherous waters, and help me atone
Honorable Mention
Opening Candlewick
Patricia Cresswell
she speaks with gentleness to the walls
leaves her memories and hopes in words
between the layers of fresh spring paint
she finds her mother and grandmother’s there
rising up before, whispering their lives
as the brush passes in loving ritual strokes
across scrubbed pine planks
intricately, through each other, are woven
all the years of summer days
for even nights are days stretched out across
the fabric of remembrance
small goodnight prayers fill the cracks and spells
recited around midnight fires
mix smokily into the faded shades
tales of fish this big, hide amongst the shelves
beside tattered, love worn fairy tales
soft kisses of first love, a baby’s hungry cry
ephemeral iron that bind this aged dwelling
into forever
buckets of colour empty
blues, greens, gold and white
dried by gusted winds, brief visitors,
who detour toward the lake
they carry potions of laughter, droplets of tears
that sift between the evergreens
and sink into the rocks and soil
she washes the brushes
sets them out on the porch to dry
immersed in sounds
forever return echoes of all the children
who ran, bare brown bodies
slipping free of convention
while grown ups slept oblivious
forever, come back the sighs
as eyes peer to catch the last glimpse
life closing in around the magic
as a setting for some precious jewel
she tends to its needs and
the cottage abides
in the sun drenched, cedar scented
whisps of joy between each year
Candlewick is a living thing of the heart
carved out of that enduring blend of
childhood and memories.
it will live, always.
Seed
Unshackled through force , gliding on air
Liberation complete , nothing compares.
My journey essential in hope of my kind
A task not made easy by concrete and iron
My fuel carry’s on with occasional fail
Longevity unknown to fill my sail.
Changes in course all to swift
Suddenly slowed with gentle drift.
Oh no oh please don’t drop me here
Just tarmac and pavement I fill with fear
Relief is had with gusted blow
My journey not ended as on I go.
Dare I tempt fate with hope of the dream
Ending my journey at some place green.
It’s all I thought for the end of my task.
When high above in my mothers grasp.
Now of no choice I begin to fall free.
This looks like the end I won’t be a tree.
Suddenly crash I can’t move I’m stuck
Ironically saved by this huge metal truck
My carriage is stopping as I view the scene.
All kinds of trees and fields of green.
Forced from this monster I lift one more time
But drop me honestly I really don’t mind.
I’m lucky I think as I calmly lay at rest
In a place like my dream With hope for the best
And although at times I really could not see.
One day it looks hopeful I will be a tree.
D.J.L
There are Debbie Dis-Gusted, Dis-Delights in this crazy world, so neatly.
And they all want to be my most utter best friend, and seek me so sweetly.
Which I now understand has depleted me absolutely and completely.
As walls I do not build; my emotions are always on Open-eatly.
A Shower Of Romance
A misty breeze gusted through the west
Swirling towards the east
Like a woman twirling in a new dress
Light rain glistened like diamonds to say the least
People hurried to make it to shelter
To flee wrath of the impending weather
Like magic straight outta a fairytale
Fate had them wrapped up in a envelope
Together they planned to elope
Their love stronger than ever
There was no stopping them no matter the weather
It was indeed a shower of romance
In Paris, the city of love, capital of France.
Caleb Owabor
January 2024©?©?