Best Hammocks Poems
~
3:15 am…blurred red numbers tell as
I stir, reaching for what I have seen,
grasping for the moments spent in the presence of beauty
as once again you have visited me in a dream…
Pure white flowing whispered fabrics and butterfly trails
awash of waterfalls cascading and mountain top zephyrs,
rock face delights collect on horizons of hope
as softness frames your luminescent face
My eyes focus in the darkness
as your touch remains real on my skin
I am still while stars sleep in crescent moon hammocks
How can this be, I am alone, yet I was not, for I could see
You were searching for me,
barefoot on lush green vistas, daisy paths and buttercup drops
neath chiffon tufted clouds suspended
above echoes of love songs harmonizing with our heart beats
Night outside my window keeps time in silent motions,
slowly sweeping breezes form rhythmic patterns
and poetry settles upon my body
as I continue to write within my now awakened mind
Destiny beckons in fruited winds
as azure eyes find luscious views of nature’s majesty
Your skins glows of spring blooms in petal’d bliss
and opal desires in the warmth of the day
But I had found you…you had found me…
my desperate wanderings have shown me the prize, illumined the joy
lingering in your smile…your eyes
your touch which stays with me even as I lay alone…still dreaming
Sun beamed passions follow you, caress you in
dancing shadows of golden hair
breathing of morning glory skies
and shimmering dragonfly wings
At this early hour, with an apricot moon peering through the curtains
and these words which have found me
playing among my thoughts, I now realize
that my every dream is you...you are my poetry
Categories:
hammocks, dream, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Don't tell me I'm beautiful when I've done something different with my make-up
Don't call me beautiful because I've bought a new bra and you can see it through my shirt
And never tell me I'm beautiful
Because I've lost weight
Tell me I am beautiful
When I am brushing my teeth
When I have toothpaste on my chin from trying to talk to you at the same time
And all you can think about the whole time I'm talking
Is how you want to kiss it clean
Don't tell me I'm beautiful when I've done my hair the way you like it
Don't tell me I'm beautiful when I'm angry and you want me to stop being angry
Don't tell me I'm beautiful because I look good in heels
Tell me I'm beautiful because I look like I feel beautiful
Because my vertebrae are aligned like stars tonight
And I can't, stop, looking, up
Don't tell me I'm beautiful to brag to your friends
Don't tell me I'm beautiful to stop me from crying
Don't tell me I'm beautiful when I'm drunk, when I've packed my bag, when I'm leaving
Tell me I'm beautiful when I'm reading
And the words reflect in my eyes like fairy lights
And there is nowhere I would rather be
Don't tell me I'm beautiful when the door is locked
Don't tell me I'm beautiful with your trousers around your ankles
Don't tell me that I am beautiful when I'm on my knees
And if I'm not
Don't tell me I'm beautiful to get me on my knees
Tell me I'm beautiful when I am on my feet
When I am on my feet despite these goddamn bags under my eyes
Tell me I am beautiful when those bags look like hammocks and all you want to do is crawl inside
And fall asleep with me
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gk0e0L0v8ag
Categories:
hammocks, abuse, beautiful, beauty, body,
Form:
Free verse
A slice of sun rises over Oahu
like a pineapple ripened to yellow-gold;
an island paradise under drapes of blue
shining in morning mist on hibiscus, bold.
Behold the beauty of Hawaiian legend -
in tropical breezes, blooms sway, tilt and bend,
and hammocks of petals drenched in bright arrays
are made into splendor of welcoming leis.
for Anthony Slausen's Encounters with Flowers Contest, 11/24/14
Categories:
hammocks, beach, beauty,
Form:
Rispetto
An episode of birds hovers beneath
a marmalade moon , just for a while,
as cotton-clouds sweep
the brushed limbs of a sky ready
to cradle the cloaks draping avian settlers;
those who like us ascend on hammocks
of dreams windblown by heady seasons
gliding through embroidered spring, the livid
lust in summer, on to a pious psalm come autumn,
soon... opal stalagmites of winter:
how abrupt and immediate this leaving!
Here we are, beyond shadows tasting
the song of evening walks soaring with
Aurora’s mist vanishing into a world
where permanence of cycles returns and repeats
the refrains from humming rivers growing frail,
until buds explode into leafy twirls
sweeter than the scent of parsley
on a fresh daylight…. icy, spicy, tangy.
Birds tweet, to swivel back into ancestral nests
much like us... wandering then yearning to kindle
the fire and oil of sweet home. Somehow,
seasons change… but our children’s dwellings
and god ‘s grace do not.
............
1/28/2016
For Cyndi Mac Millan's Contest
FIVE PROOF: FREE VERSE
THAT SHOWS IT AIN'T NO PROSE
......................
Literary devices: Assonance, Alliteration,
Imagery, Mood, Synesthesia
Categories:
hammocks, change, home, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
Dear Folks: I pen this note as we ply the dark and stormy sea.
Thanks to Uncle Sam I'm cruising on the Queen Mary, all for free.
You'd think we'd travel in style on such a luxurious tub,
But I'll tell you about life aboard and what we eat for grub.
As usual, the officers and nurses live in comfortable style,
But things ain't so pleasant for us in the rank and file.
We stand in line for everything, even to use the head.
I've been seasick so many times I wish that I was dead.
The brass dine at tables with linen, china and silverware,
And are served their meals by waiters with eloquent flair.
We stand up for chow, eating from greasy steel trays,
Trying to keep our balance as the boat rolls and sways.
Officers sleep four-to-a-room and have sheets on their bed.
I bunk with a hundred other guys on sagging hammocks instead.
I hear the Lord's name taken in vain frequently around here,
As we stumble over each others' feet and our assorted gear.
The brass dine on such things as ice cream, cake and steak.
I've had all the stew, orange marmalade and figs I can take.
Another bout of mal de mer is attacking me, I gotta go.
That's all for now, till next time, Your loving son, Roscoe.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
hammocks, funny
Form:
Rhyme
Tenacious ichor tells entire construction
Divulges puerile battles during idle procedure
Relic compiling spotlight show seduction
Library ivory tower truth siphoning beseecher
Adapted lady adorns princely throne
Padlock hammocks tween valuable threads
Warm cove cocoon moors love's loan
Imbibing cover only, for information dreads
Mould folded within her novel costume
Pacifying massage, limbs lubricated levitate
Elephant keratin tusk thrusts impromptu
Smudge of shame fades chalk dust archaic
- Fifth September
Fabricating Sculptor
Categories:
hammocks, art, beauty, bridal shower,
Form:
Rhyme
When winter months become morose
And everything around is blue and froze
Gets disheartening even for the eskimos
Their morale starts to dwindle and decompose
They tread most lightly on cautious tippytoes
For fear their neighbors will become bellicose
They bite their tongue rather than use such prose
As ‘up your nose, my friend, with a rubber hose’
It is uplifting to dream of colorful scenarios
Any warm place where the blazing sun glows
Where the desert air gently blows
While ocean waves roll in sultry rows
All agree a trip down south would be most grandiose
Trading bikinis for their parka and heavy winter clothes
By pools they’d feign being divinely comatose
Drink in hand adopting the hot vacation pose
Stretched out on their hammocks eating pistachios
Laying back being busy counting colored rainbows
Hey CabanaBoy we’d truly really hate to impose
But would you please massage us from our head to our toes
Before their fair skin burns and redness undergoes
They all head back to their respective bungalows
Wondering should they dress go catch one of the shows
Or rest in bed before calling on one of the local rodeos
While visiting the souvenir shop one decides to propose
To send home a postcard showing tropical buzzards and flamingos
With a heartfelt message that needs not be verbose
For sure they’ll be the envy of both our friends and foes
AP: 1st place 2021
Submitted on January 9, 2019 for contest BUZZARDS AND FLAMINGOS sponsored by ANTHONY SLAUSIN
Categories:
hammocks, fantasy, sun, travel, uplifting,
Form:
Monorhyme
FLEEING IRMA
spotlight moon, full, like an Old Testament cloud, leading
Floridians forth, not into the desert, but away from the wrath
of Irma. bumper to bumper, neighbors from pilot to caboose,
illuminated in each other’s flood beams. testiness and pride
put aside, as fleeing cars, in camaraderie, brave the calm
before the storm. like the Israelites, they leave behind the
homes they know, put themselves in the hands of God. many
have family and friends north of their beloved peninsula,
an unintended visit, a warm haven, not a picnic nor a vacation,
but each pulls themselves up, for our Southern neighbors
are not of the craven sort. those who choose to live near the sea,
with its beauty and fortitude, know how to batten down the hatches.
hammocks left behind will tangle, and hug palm trees, suffering
the loss of their occupants. hotels, with never ending vacationers,
takes a much needed rest. God believes in rest, sometimes
a seven year sabbath, even when the soul forgets its place. we
pray, even north of the path, in stillness, we must, in gratitude,
never taking for granted, lest we too find ourselves seeking solace
elsewhere. godspeed our tanned Peninsula friends. godspeed
and bless, with safety, tenacity, and love as we reel you in.
9/8/2017
Categories:
hammocks, car, people, religious, storm,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Hold onto your spirit my old soul
my young nights floating in sky,
with black clouds moving to light stars
do war drums still pound against your sanity?
Signs of victory in labyrinths you'd found
but blazing sparks still burn your brown books,
with ghosts on roads of mourning nights
can you bury your doubts in dust again?
Hush! Your valiant shadow stands tonight
at crimson doors of agony from past in pain,
thorns born of wailing scars vanish gloriously
do blissful crystals wrap your sizzling grains?
Onyx hollows drooping your visions in black
brush your dancing chaos in topaz dusk,
numb raging coal shifts in hammocks of paranoia
can you find light through falls in snowstorm?
My old soul, your symphony of valour in halo
blooms in drizzling dark wisps of apathy,
sparkling buds in wings dripping at twilight,
fly along, your mind rains stars on this dawn.
July 14, 2020
A Lipogram poem without the letter 'E'
Lipogram Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
~Premiere Contest Winner:4th Place
Categories:
hammocks, analogy, courage,
Form:
Free verse
Summer Sunshine
Summer sunshine feels different from spring,
Round – ripening and growing large –
Laying still, sunbeams tickle leaves and sing -
Seeing blueness across the sky enlarge.
Summer sunshine welcomes naps in hammocks
And seeps into the winter weary soul
Cloud shapes shift in the sky, panoramic,
And the scent of new cut grass to extol.
Summer sunshine writes of calm, sunlit lakes
Winding down, gathering, summer reading
The scent of suntan cream and sizzling steaks
Getting ready, watering and weeding.
Windows open as sunshine rushes in
Warm blessing from God’s hands like sacred hymns.
Categories:
hammocks, summer, sun,
Form:
Sonnet
Theme - Loving Food.
People Chubby
Short and Stubby.
Hearty Eaters
Egg Beaters.
Gaining Weight
Without Faith.
Filling Stomachs
Lying in Hammocks.
What a Folly
O how Jolly.
Loving Food
Always in the Mood.
Categories:
hammocks, appreciation, funny, giggle, humor,
Form:
Footle
When the sunshine burns off the morning dew
And the flowers unfold and smile
Then we gnomes will be ready to do what we must do
We'll prepare for the party with style
We'll get out our scythes and trim a patch of lawn
Haul out our toadstool chairs and bunting
We've been ironing the table covers since the break of dawn
We find it far more fun than fishing and than hunting
The food will be delightful, as we've made a special stew
With peaches, garlic mushrooms and mint sauce
The drink will be amazing, as it's quite a special brew
Made with just the same ingredients, of course
We've party games a-plenty, yes we've thought of everything
There's a four-leaved clover in amongst the shamrocks
We'll need some luck as the tables like to wander off and sing
But we’ll supervise while dozing on our hammocks
We've invited all the fairies and the pixies and the elves
You're welcome too - to miss it would be tragic
And though the goblins are not coming - they will entertain themselves
They have lent to us their iPod and some magic
Written 23rd June 2016 for this contest... http://www.poetrysoup.com/poetry_contests/little_people_8034
Categories:
hammocks, garden, magic,
Form:
Light Verse
(10/13/12)
At the beginning of “64” - I packed up my uniform
And walked out the door- it was the beginning of
The Vietnam war.
By August of that same year
President Johnson started the draft
Under protests and jeers.
Then he made it a full scale war
And sent our soldiers to Vietnam shores.
The Beatniks in Greenwich village
With their long hair, beards, and
Flip flop sandals - wrote their poetry
About this undeclared war, and why
Our men were going to those shores.
This created a new generation called ‘HIPPIES”
The hippie generation was groups of protesters
Against everything that they found wrong
The draft , the war , pollution
And loved to stay high with pot, hashish
Coke and acid (lsd) which kept them blasted.
This also created the “ flower children”
Who like the hippies loved to be high
And on certain flowers they would fly.
But they spoke of loving one another
And gave out flowers as a sign of peace
Which to the president was a relief.
They all started painting this “53 Chevy impala”
With the words “ flower power”.
Now the “ flower children and hippie movement
Was in full swing, and everyone was doing their own thing.
They had Greenwich village under their control
And not one coffee shop would ever be sold.
Every coffee shop had a poetry night
And going there was such a delight.
Then in AUGUST of “69”
The WOODSTOCK festival was on the rise
Over half a million people drove to that farmland
And set up tents , hammocks, sleeping bags and such
And the police found it was much to much
So they had no choice but to see it through
Because there was nothing else that they could do.
The WOODSTOCK festival had become world wide
And to this day it still thrives.
© L . RAMS
Categories:
hammocks, war, flower, august, flower,
Form:
Rhyme
In the beginning
There was love,
the countryside kind of loving
where we laid out in an old hammocks
under the shadow of the sycamores tree,
feeling that cool breeze on our face
it was just a little taste
of the country living;
a large pitcher of lemonade in the icebox
Nana’s laundry blowing in the wind
Everything back then seem so innocent and benign
my friend and I were on a natural high
we giggle, guffaws, from chuckles to cackles
as we lean our head back: and our laughter
were as loud as the dogs barks;
while the whole flock of chickens cackle loudly
in a disorderly manner;
However, we held each other so tight
Until the stars came out and whinge about us
Suddenly, granddad yelled,
“Small Point!
It’s time to come inside”
I remember you hid under the shed
In the beginning
There was love and twenty years later
Five children.
The Poem have its own vernacular?
however, do enjoy the read.
Categories:
hammocks, beautiful, culture, dedication, first
Form:
Dramatic Verse
There are simple pleasures in country things,
Hayrides and harvesting in the epoch of fall.
In the season when leaves fly with golden wings.
Porches where folks strum on guitar strings,
sharing iced tea and fond memories enthrall.
There are simple pleasures in country things.
Upon a fence, a tendrilled morning glory clings,
Purple blooms climbing on a white-washed wall.
In the season when leaves fly with golden wings
Feeling northerly winds this time of year brings.
Watching flocks fly south in answer to time's call.
There are simple pleasures in country things.
Swaying on hammocks or old wooden swings,
dancing a two-step and voices speaking in drawl.
In the season when leaves fly with golden wings.
Living a good life much richer than great kings,
and waiting for snow that nature cannot forestall.
There are simple pleasures in country things,
in the season when leaves fly with golden wings.
11/03/2022 ~ Third Person Villanelle Contest
Sponsored by L Milton Hankins
Categories:
hammocks, life, simple,
Form:
Villanelle