Best Hamlets Poems
Let’s fly to the celestial fiesta of the cherry blossom,
In the North Eastern Region of Shillong, named, “The Scotland of the East,
The abode of the cloud,” in the lush mesa of the magnetic Meghalaya!
The wheezing Pine forest of the whispering waterfalls in the Khasi hills,
is bustling with the nature’s fairytale of pink, white and ivory!
As far as the eyes can see, the rolling tableland is ringing, ridden by the radiant petals of cherries!
Neither Japan, nor Paris, a mere remote region of Indian plateau,
Glowing in nature’s sublime glory of pellucid picturesque pinks!
Nicknamed, Prunus Cerasoides, the cherry blossoms,
a delightful boon of Himalayas,
are blooming profusely in the magical
verdant highland of the East Khasi hills!
The November is rippling with
moonlit music, plethora of flamboyant folk dances,
pageants, stalls to cater to the globetrotters’ penchant for the ethnicity
of the fur-flung region’s tribes’ cuisines, wine, arts and cryptic crafts!
Such bedazzling is the serenity of the panaromic platonic plateau,
As folks of the vicinity, are traversing despite the rampant pandemic,
to glimpse the shangri la of the richest biome of the floral magical lane!
The resonating frolic of the chirping and twittering from the cheerful cherry bushes
are teeming with the twirling bliss, intoning,
in winters whistling whiff!
A nature’s bounty, a pamphlet of picturesque hamlets’ terrains of aromatic sensuous purity!
Blessed are they, who have witnessed the once in a lifetime scene of crystal clean roaring rivulets, murmuring brooks, the ravishing orchids, quirky root bridges, aesthetic lakes and rills, scented wild flowers, encompassing the enigmatic cherry blooms of the mystic land of the majestic mountains!
An euphoria to have a ride amidst the clouds of the misty moorlands,
gliding languidly to take the signature of the mementos of the moments;
to kiss the plateau of wild orchids, flowering Cherries and sacred woodlands of those Khasi hills,
crackling with the sprouting, cherry blossom festival of the far East!
Categories:
hamlets, celebration, nature, paradise, visionary,
Form:
Free verse
Consummated under sheets of inspiration,
Conceived in cryptic dreams,
Created from cloudy concentrations,
The words flowed onto a wrinkled sheet of paper.
I concealed the verse under my pillow,
Entombed beneath my peaceful slumber,
Safe from grating barbarians.
For I do not reside in a steel fortress.
But the poem demanded breath,
And I obliged with wary trepidation.
Exposing naked insights of thought,
To public opinions and consumption.
I was misunderstood in some quarters.
My uneven stanzas documented in dorm rooms,
Lack of rhythm noted in offices,
And style criticized in coffee shops.
But my work was greeted warmly from African savannas,
Treasured in Scotland,
Saluted in London,
And praised from India’s sacred rivers.
In the heartland, school girls knew my name.
Southern belles toasted my talents.
I was pondered over breakfast in Florida,
Embraced in backwoods hamlets.
When I look within,
Searching for the brilliant author,
I question his existence.
The trance, that special state of mind, has passed.
In conscious lucidity I ask the stunning question,
“Who wrote this poem?”
Categories:
hamlets, on writing and words
Form:
Free verse
There are no shape walls
to bridle one's emotions
creativity is properly ventilated
unbound by meter or syllable count
embracing nakedness
yanked naked in its virginity
The binding belt of chastity
given over to lyrical lovers
Sleeping quietly in the meadows
a pristine area free of squatters
fighting for their rights
with sonnet-crafted homes
and hamlets defined by literature.
Straying away from the norm
acolytes watch as castles are built,
that worships orderly expression
poetic masterpieces,
safeguarded and preserved at all times
metaphors align into a specific subset
pictures look like works of art,
there is a distinct realm
for those unfit to fly in their confines.
Outside of the norm
is a vast nebulous
growing quill flowers from seeds sown
the power of smell to evoke memories,
which one's brain may elect to ignore
when settling at a location of a specific form
is what one's words must imply.
On this trip, there are no rules,
only that burning desire inside
strive to harass the page,
fire getting into the core
from telling someone a mystery,
till the key bares the chest
where other ideas demand rebirth.
1st Place Contest Winner
Written: August 28, 2022
Free Verse - Old Or New Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
5th Place Contest Winner
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Categories:
hamlets, analogy, appreciation, birth, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Farolitos: lanterns of candlelight;
Luminarias: outdoor fires of pine.
Both light quiet path on a Christmas night
for Mary and Joseph, old ones define
messages that the new babe is divine.
A candle in sack borrows from the two:
a delicate, hanging Chinese lantern,
and small fires left as a signal, in lieu
of rocks and tree signs, which later we learn
prompted phones and texts that we now discern.
Small fires still left, but a radiant glow
of Farolitos light wall and pathway.
All over cities and hamlets they show
an amazing, yet reverent, display
of warm stillness that gentles end of day.
December 13, 2022
"A Christmas Special Poetry Contest"
by Emile Pinet
Categories:
hamlets, appreciation, beauty, birth, celebration,
Form:
Quintain (English)
Bells, bells, sound of bells fall now and then in my ears,
Their tone and timbre varying, sometimes singing,
Sometimes jarring, sometimes rising to a sweet crescendo.
Clanging and clashing, tinkling, and jingling
Every day I wake to the sound of the tolling of bells,
From the church steeple early in the morning,
A call to the parishioners to start their day,
In prayer and devotion to the Heavenly Father
Each toll causing varied impacts, sad or sweet.
While wedding bells ring with a sweet melody
It is with great dread that we listen to the alarm bells,
Cautioning and alerting men of some imminent danger.
As the funeral procession moves slowly down the streets,
With men treading in silence and the bells ringing a doleful tune,
Reminding us of the inescapable end waiting for each man,
A foggy pain creeps through the alleys of the mind.
Thus, the sound of bells through ages has been rolling,
Through hills and vales crossing hamlets and towns
Either whispering a sweet tale or forewarning an omen
Producing timeless echo, vibrant and resonant in the eons of time!
Categories:
hamlets, feelings, funeral, Lullaby, sound,
Form:
Free verse
Chase not what was autumn time,
Its vibrant colors that had once adorned.
Now fades away as the winter mourns.
But to savour thoughts like a fine old wine.
Across valley deep over moors and hill,
The Norse wind on his steed doth roar.
Through nook and cranny and frame of door,
With breath of ice like steel.
Ice maid for you enchant us so,
As you lay your cloak of winter down.
Across sleepy hamlets and the bustling towns,
Vestige remnants of the year now go.
© N Windle 2009
Categories:
hamlets, imagination, inspirational, life, nature,
Form:
Many years ago, way back in time the month of April was known as the Blackthorn Winter,
It was the time of the year when the blackthorn begins to dress in her finest blossom,
Deep in the country the small hamlets custom says is the time for bitter cold weather,
Time for east and north-easterly hard winds chill all, hail, sleet and sometimes snow.
The blackthorns and the plums in sheltered orchards awaken and begin to come to life,
They quickly showed themselves thickly clustered with tiny little green bursting buds,
Blue whiteness of the blossom half revealed, like the wide smile of a beautiful girl,
A rich white that makes your heart and eyes light up at the sight of unrivaled beauty.
Cold are the winds buds of trees swell and they grow like a naturally beautiful woman,
They come forward and bloom standing cold but fearless, determined to wait for the sun,
On cold grounds a lilac stands it looks so green flushed with it's half-unclosed leaves,
A yellow rose fights to start its new life just as custom says in a Blackthorn Winter.
Categories:
hamlets, nature, beautiful, time, beautiful,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Wish to wake up surrounded by the snow-capped Alps
Sipping tea in the quiet, quaint villages of Switzerland
Watching the glittering ripples of sapphire blue lakes
Staying in picturesque lakeside hamlets
Overlooking emerald valleys and majestic mountain peaks
Wish to climb the summit of the Matterhorn
To ride in horse-drawn carriages in the village of Zermatt
Journeying through train to Jungfraujoch
Riding cable cars and gondolas over the Lauterbrunnen Valley
Visiting flourishing flower gardens in Interlaken
Enjoying the Swiss Transport Museum in Lucerne
Wish to write about the beauty of Lake Geneva
From within the halls of the famed Chateau de Chillon
Skiing and snowboarding in St. Moritz’s Cresta Run
Stopping by in the Rose Garden and Bear Park
In the stunning Swiss capital of Bern
Wish to go to the Zurich Zoo with my family
Walk the cobbled streets of the Old Town
Strolling toward the Swiss National Museum
Call on the tennis great Roger Federer in his Wollerau home
Watch him practise his game and spend time with his family
Wish to enjoy some Cheese fondue and Älplermagronen
With Rosti and Zürcher Geschnetzelte, a veal dish
It would be wonderful to eat Engadiner Torte
Taste some Huppen wafer biscuits
And some sweet Swiss chocolate
If I were to go on a vacation,
I would choose Switzerland
without a second thought
Dreamy and inviting
That’s the place I wish to see.
28th March 2022
For L Milton Hankins' "My Dream Vacation" contest
Categories:
hamlets, dream, vacation,
Form:
Imagism
The Journey
From petrol station, conurbation,
Queuing traffic moving slowly,
Taxi rank and railway station.
Glimpsing horses, grazing cows
By winding rivers, straight canals.
Open farmland, working ploughs.
Motorways; long distance coaches,
Post card village, pond and green,
Packs and snacks, hurried lunches.
By scenic route and shady lane,
Thru’ darkening forest; silent trees,
Ancient site and sunny plain.
Over bridges, under bridges,
Hidden valley, windy moor.
By the oceans, passing hamlets,
From door to distant door.
Barry Stebbings
3/4/2016
Categories:
hamlets, journey,
Form:
Rhyme
A semi baked semi colon is neither a seminar nor a seminary session. It is in fact the whirr of wheels from the large overweight apostrophe on a bike. Uphill downhill and all around the picturesque towns, villages and hamlets but not cities for cityscapes' are carnivorous and carnivores can charm even a chalice from a wagon if and when sealed with the juice of a steak. Well oiled grease test then. All in line. Good. Garages grab greenery giving great galloping geraniums. On the phone now are we? Oh good afternoon. Good morning. Good evening. But never a good night in a customer query box ticked. Tickle a ticket to induce laughter. In many many rides on a bus or a train a mandatory mane maneuvers managing mere mobile movements. And always remember that the globetrotting goldfish in the wicker hat can sing mist loudly to a cone. Hahaha Kyu k pass hai saja hai mekhana and a fried onion belches to a melted cheese. *** geomorphologic Z
Categories:
hamlets, angel, appreciation, aubade, basketball,
Form:
Thirty pieces of silver
How could anyone deny Him? He's
Everlasting luminous light
Serendipitous of God's goodness
Astounding as angelic news
Visitors from on high, spoke,in the twinkle of an eye
Imagine our world, sans the Savior
Oh the joy of Christmas
Responsibilities rings clear, as carols fills the air
Recalling the reason for the season
Each and every heart are stirred
In Cities, Towns, Hamlets; bells will ring
Generations know the story of a new born King
Now, as then, the Savior reigns
Sum of redemption is as priceless gift, He calls us to claim.
*
Categories:
hamlets, angel, bible, birth, blessing,
Form:
Acrostic
Brecon Beacons for pony-treks,Cumbrian fells and bubbling becks;Dartmoor
with rocks rain scarred ,Lake District views beloved of bards.Northumbria, above
on moor and hill,where Roman echoes linger still.Stone-bridged hamlets in the
Dales with enclosed leas along its vales.Snowdonia ,one thousand yards high
reached by slow trains up to the sky.Pembroke with its distant trail so
long,heritages for us to protect and prolong.National treasures to preserve and
enjoy by rich,the famous and hoi poloi.
Categories:
hamlets, nature, places,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Introduction
From the city on the river
Where the Sage of Monticello
And the Great Emancipator
Birthed the country, saved the nation,
Sounds a call for civil discord
In the service of ambition
From a man whose God is power,
And his name is Demagogia.
Gathering Storm
To the banner flock his minions:
Come the vengeful, the nostalgists,
Come the dreamers and the zealots,
Come the heedless disaffected;
All these factions so enchanted
By the whimsies of the Leader
Who vows naught but boundless warrant,
All objections notwithstanding.
Marching Orders
Demagogia tells his vassals
That the ones arrayed against him
Are ignoble, quite unworthy,
And must not be given quarter
When the battle is enjoined.
‘’Lay aside all thoughts of honor:
Smear their people, smear their children,
Plough and salt their reputations.’’
Engagement
In the cities, in the hamlets,
Over air waves, on the WorldWide,
Campaigns combat, hot and savage,
Demagogia as the dark horse;
So much riding on the outcome,
Which determines if his vision
Is a dream cut short by waking.
Or a nightmare neverending.
Forewarning
When it’s settled, morning after,
Demagogia stands triumphant,
Savoring the prize he's conjured,
Casts a baleful eye about him,
Smiles grimly, mutters darkly:
‘’Now be fearful, non-believers;
Like the Phoenix, rising, rising
From the flame pit, from the ashes . . .’’
2/21/2016
(Poem Written in Anger Contest)
Explanatory note:
“Song of Demagogia” is a mimic poem of Longfellow’s celebrated “Song of Hiawatha.” Definitions are fluid, but it is not, strictly speaking, a parody.
Neither is it a thinly disguised attack on any politician in office or running for office. Rather, it was conceived in anger at the devolution of our political culture in recent years and what that may portend for this country down the road.
Categories:
hamlets, anger, conflict, future, leadership,
Form:
Free verse
At the confluence stands the sage
Directing traffic of divine centuries,
Gluons, microns, universes and the laughter bird
The laughter bird is afloat, his wings
Drip cold and soothing fractals
Morphed out of innocent play
And the desire for play
Small, large, star shaped, flower petalled fractals
Keep falling like snowflakes through my lazy evening
Portals that were wide open throughout the long
And dazzling day
And played welcome to ten trillion suns
Detaching each from other at lightning speed
From mother broth, carrying heat and
Light, riding the swift shuttle of invisibility
To arrive at my portals, and alight
Joining other streaming suns throughout
My long long day
Vespers, now
Now the old doorkeeper
Is pulling the portals shut, and Night
The Vedic Night, the Night for whom the
Hymns of succour and supplication are sung
To protect us from fierce tigers, and the
Country wolf, succour for me and mine
And those who dwell in ancient hamlets, those
That stand guard on moonlit fields in winter,
Birds with beaks dipping in warm and furry feather high up on the trees of night,
And the shadowy corners of our minds, also
The deep deep well inside where innocent
And sultry Semite lasses draw water for Job,
Or Jacob, or Jesus, or simply me
There, for that, but for that,
We were the flying caravan of white on blue
Flying, flying, flying endlessly
Lest we were caught by soft and welcome hands
Of the bubbling laughter of Eternity.
Categories:
hamlets, visionaryflying, universe,
Form:
Free verse
On drowsy hamlets mobile hordes descend,
From tight-lipped forests rises a babel.
Wanderlust is to distant wonders sent,
As fleets of long-haul birds skyward rumble.
Where massed footprints to virgin lands extend,
And sights are packaged for all to sample,
Coy beauties in nature’s bosom held dear
From between heaven and earth disappear.
Categories:
hamlets, beauty, flying, nature, people,
Form:
Ottava rima