Best Happen Upon Poems
A view of the ragged woodland from
The window:-
Slender branched trees that shed
From high above to low below;
The faint, mauven peaks
Smattered with barely visible
Scatterings of drifted snow;
Across the matted undergrowth
A bronzed carpet of copper coloured
Leaves
Whose rusting hue,
Momentarily ignited by stray
Sunbeams weakly smouldering,
Briefly refurbished -
Deceives with all the colours of a
Rainbow...
From vibrant red through to shy
Hints of indigo;
Those vague outlines indicating
Receding hills;
Here, arising, long ago, every waking
Dawning,
The creaking structures
Of groaning and imposing mills;
Soon a slow thawing that quickly
Spills
Into the trickling replenishments
Of many gushing and silvery little
Rills.
Enchantment gripped me!
And I found myself wistfully
Thinking...
Maybe, perhaps, maybe, somewhere,
Just behind where the great
Flattening Orb
Is now rapidly shrinking,
That I might, by perchance, find,
If I did so hope to bravely dare,
To happen upon a hidden and
Sedentary way of life up there?
That, forgotten, has turned its
Back on the social conflicts
Plagued by the curses of ingrained
Vice;
Encumbering a soul with its petty
Squabblings,
Imposing upon with demands and
Avarice...
When placing unnecessary burdens
On a honest bodies daily call
Of grinding toil and wearisome
Strife!
And still stood,
With hands outstretched upon the
Painted sill,
At the waist half-bent,
Now troubled by quiet mutterings
In an inexplicable sorts
Of self-imposed discontent,
My staid consciousness almost
Unawares,
As, momentarily distracted,
I hesitated, and, unseeing,
Inattentively stared...
Until...
A ragged chapter of cawing Daws,
Loudly jabbering overhead,
Suddenly wheeled -
And upwardly soared!
Whereupon, in murderous haste,
Awkwardly fled
When laboriously stealing away
Back inside the stubbled fields...
Thus causing me to slowly straighten;
Whilst, with a singular heartfelt pang,
Liken a moorland mist slowly rolling
Over
That indivisibly conceals...
Drew shut the sullen curtains, which,
Heavily embroidered with indeterminate
finality,
Dejectedly hang...
Each draped aside of the cold
Reveals.
Inspired by "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud," by William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a leaf that falls,
unmourned, to the distant ground
I paused when I heard a far bird's calls
Magic I'd missed looking down--
royal Autumn leaves danced in gold and red.
This must be where my lonely heart has led.
Opened my eyes to this spellbound place,
and breathed air perfumed by pine.
Then sat near blossom with smiling face,
feeling thoughts and heart align.
I watched grass spinning beneath a tall oak;
heard whispered promises breeze softly spoke.
Head full of dreams, I wandered along
paths worn by many steps before.
Mountain larks welcomed me with a song,
I spied lilacs, bluebells, and more.
Around each corner, surprises await.
I feel my loneliness start to abate.
I happen upon a wayward creek,
sit and watch her bouncing spray,
Bubbling with laughter, just what I seek--
hidden by an oak overlay.
Untethered nature met unquiet heart.
Now I burst with song; can't tell us apart!
September 18,2022
for "I Wandered Lonely As A..." contest
by Natasha L. Scragg
Third Place
Poem of the Week
Of all the flowers- it is the rose I love the best,
And the most beautiful to me is the color red;
In my journals sweet red roses I have pressed,
Cover me with roses red when I am laying dead.
Oh, let me take my beloved flower up above,
At my bed in a vase are red roses drooping;
This flower is forever death and is deep love,
So lovely- I truly adore this cut rose grouping.
In my last gasp let me hold one to my lips,
Remember me dears when you happen upon a rose;
I will hold this beauty until my hand slips,
Lay a rose on my tomb- but first hold it close.
____________________________
August 5, 2016
Poetry/Rhyme/Red Roses
Copyright Protected, ID 16-814-361-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Flower Of Attraction
sponsor, Rick Parise
Seventh Place
SYRIAN REFUGEES
I'm watching a programme on telly
About the Syrian refugees
Men and women and children
Humanity brought to its knees
I'm watching the desperate faces
The terror and hunger and fear
They're facing their ultimate nightmare
And me? Well I'm just sitting here
And saying 'Isn't it awful'
'Something needs to be done'
Whilst searching the TV listings
And planning my evening of fun
Then I happen upon the BBC news
Cameron wringing his hands on my screen
Saying Syria is a priority
Then slips into a black limousine
Then Hollande, and Angela Merkel
Echo the prime minister's views
And tell us how hard they are working
Another soundbite for the news
Then shoot off to their heads of state dinner
Which will go on well into the night
While in the camps the tears will continue
No dinner for those folks tonight
At the meeting, an idea from Turkey
Amongst the platitudes and the kind words
The plan that they're putting forward
Is to drop lots of bombs on the Kurds
I flick channels and happen on Tony Blair
Offering the world a solution
I really can't listen to that grinning clown
Spouting his verbal pollution
He's jabbering on about Islam
Trying to give us the wisdom we lack
And hoping the world has forgotten
What Bush and him did in Iraq
Perhaps he's just a bit jealous
That he's not allowed to the feast
After finding Saddam's nuclear weapons!
A doggy bag surely at least.
While another mother loses her children
More slaughter and mayhem we see
And imagine the arms manufacturers
And dealers, jumping with glee
As they make another few billions
And probably a few billions more
Then they'll hide all their dirty old dollars
In their financial laundry offshore
And the politicians turn a blind eye
And I'm sure that they won't be divulging
How some of them came by their fat bank accounts
And why their back pockets are bulging
But then.......success I hear on the news
The EU says all is not black
They've solved the refugee crisis.
When they get here.........we're sending them back.
Job done, EU movers and shakers
So sorry for doubting your cause
You've sorted the Syrian problem
Give yourselves a big round of applause
© Ron James 05/04/2016
I saw him before I saw her…(I believe she was holding the door.)
There was a far away look in his eyes as he shuffled his feet on the floor.
I felt a twinge of sorrow for him as he slowly labored past
Each step seemed so difficult…more challenging than the last.
I saw her next when she caught up to him and I thought how nothing could compare
with the smile on her face as she helped him to his chair.
She fixed his hair, she straightened his clothes with an ease, a tenderness…a grace
and as she tended to his every need that smile never left her face.
I did not know this couple whom I assumed were man and wife
but as I watched them endure the ravages of age I imagined younger moments in their life.
The moment hey first met, when they fell in love…when they lived in younger skin
I imagined them with friends and family…imagined all the places they had been…
A lifetime spent in love together was not difficult to surmise
I saw it in the gentleness of her touch…and in the sparkle of her eyes.
When our eyes met for a moment I saw how her smile was masking her pain
and I thought how the more her husband slips away…the more her love remains.
I believe when we happen upon one another…even momentarily in a day
from every brief encounter…we take something away.
It may be a look…a smile…a glance…a gesture from afar
that finds it’s way into our heart and reshapes who we are.
As I left my brief encounter and walked to my car in a misty rain
I thought about that moment…about how she smiled through her pain…
and though there was a hint of sadness as I drove home by the sea
it wasn’t her sadness…it was her love…I took away with me.
A love so beautiful…so everlasting…so quietly proclaimed
It made me smile when I thought of it…
knowing I’d never be the same.
It is not easy to happen upon them,
Pure nymphs in their natural beauty.
It happened to me only once when
I was resting beneath a red sunset maple,
As the summer hear began to soar.
A stone throw away was a lively stream
Around which grew in flower
A clump of Crape Myrtle Dwarves.
The breeze blew softly carrying
Some mellifluous melody,
Whilst nubile gorgeous maidens,
Laughing merrily frolicked
An amorous intense folk dance.
Then some loud noise disturbed the peace.
And all disappeared out of sight.
Was it a dream?
Wandering through the badlands
of the great south western plains
I happen upon a great assembly of
fairy spires, other worldly
wonders of rocky pinnacles
that dot the high desert landscape.
Strange oddities, these creatures
with their solemn, stony faces
staring toward the westerly horizon.
A foreboding presence grips me
as I pause underneath their
mighty shadows.
Hoodoos, standing resolute and silent
an ancient tribal assembly of warriors
gathering together, like a timeless
courtroom, judge and jury, waiting
as I stand alone in their midst.
The fading sunlight darkens the
path before me, as I anxiously
will my feet to carry me away
from this cold, lifeless place.
Pushed along by thoughts of
impending doom, I escape the
mighty hoodoo curse, as
demons of dread are lifted
the further away I travel from
that wild, accursed place.
Written on 6/24/2015
I happen upon a veteran, once,
An old man
With a four-sprang cane
And war tales
Stretched like China wall.
This event transpired in very recent past.
The man turned out to be pterodactyl
And flew away.
I fell upon a boy, once,
A once child soldier,
A hero
Released
From youth and life.
Oh, how time has changed.
Men are taught to bicker,
Children are trained to fight.
The wildflower begins its life as a seed
Within itself it contains all it will need
Along with the rain and the sun to feed
To become something we can't it will succeed
For despite the problems that around them lie
The wildflower stays beautiful as time goes by
Not realizing we no longer stop to see
Or care anymore how fragile they can be
They continue to fill the air with their sweet perfume
But as time goes by we give them less and less room
More concrete and cities in their path now loom
I'm afraid their future could hold some serious gloom
So as down this road of life you race
The next time you happen upon a place
Where wildflowers put a smile on your face
Take the time to stop and pick yourself a vase!
©Donna Jones
In my perfect world there would be no guns,
or bombs, no terrorists and no wars;
we would bring our soldiers home alive,
no poverty or abuse would exist.
Love, freedom, happiness for everyone,
Kindness- falling from all lips;
All children, boys and girls would be educated,
The environment free of all pollution.
Animal cruelty- a thing of the past,
But I am just a girl, a tiny speck in this world;
Yet, I have a mighty voice to speak,
Please save this world before it is too late.
I write letters, make a speech, donate time,
Help one person that I happen upon;
Pray for a cure to all diseases,
Support those who suffer seeking a tranquil death.
________________________
July 23, 2016
Poetry/Verse/My Perfect World
Copyright Protected, ID 16-811-051-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, If I Could Change The World
sponsor, Becca Teagon
First Place
In Succession
Queen's grandson has been happily married
She smiled each time future child was carried
By Princess above all who is as lovely as her
Who we wanted to see when taking a tour.
To fact a child was meant to be precursory
Before ending up in a Royal nice nursery
And loving child of course each one will be
Who later has to end up in high society.
Each child when born is beyond all worth
Are greatest things we ever have on earth
And seems like I'm a poet with an obsession
Regarding Royal people who are in succession.
My wife Jill who is such a beautiful doll
Actually would never have been here at all
Who ended up being one of the bright dames
Currently related to none other than King James.
Then one day a great idea I did happen upon
What if she too married a James and had a son
And every time after eating all of her spinach
She surely continued on with her long lineage.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran and Poet
My wife Jill Webster McCarroll Horn is related to
the King James lineage and also the William
(Bravehart) Wallace lineage. How about that.
Give me some suggestions on how to improve
this so I can give it to my wife on her birthday
on June 30th. Just finished a great 14 day tour
of British Isles and now you have to put up
with my obnoxious poems again. Jim Horn
Need category for Genealogy.
Woman! darkly gleam is your work I esteem…love it!
From mountainous mountain top to valley‘s belly
I hear you pluck…on eagle‘s wings…onward pluck
How nice, your device visits and forces in their smelly
Glamorous cells, a glad evening‘s grief to run amok.
Then ever, of flowing emotions savour. Oh their deeds befit!
Skip a stride, hop a stride, and gleefully grin upon
Their seeds too – in their please full bliss and homely homes.
But a seed… …he who wears my face and is adorn
With a talking tongue like that of his majesty Jerome‘s;
When you, him happen upon, spare an empty glance. Clickaty-clacks too,
Mine ears must hear not near. And my nose, free must it be of your flu!
On scribbled accounts, oh read, ever shall you in your shrine;
And content shall I be having inked my fourteenth line.
(Line for line… tit for tat.)
1.
My house is kind of small
but bigger than my kitchen
And in my kitchen there’s a lamp
that’s bigger than my fist
Please don’t touch the dog’s food bowl
only I touch the food bowl
But really I know I shouldn’t
only my dog touches the food bowl
What an *******. We should have never bought that dog
and we never should have mentioned that lamp, or that fist.
They were completely irrelevant to everything else.
I’m going to have to scrap this one.
2.
I started to write the poem
then this happened.
And now this is happening
to that happening.
I happen to be happening upon a
happening.
just like every other happening.
Sometimes poems happen, often after
something else happens
I just happened to happen upon a
happenstance happening
then I started to write the poem.
3.
It’s either spaghetti or meatballs
that go with warm vodka
Either would probably fit
in the freezer at the store.
Maybe they’d even fit
in a cold and dim motel in Ohio.
But where would I find
A fork?
Maybe I could find one
In that motel.
Goodbye
my
dearest
washcloth.
You
were
good
at
scrubbing.
Replenish the Spring within our souls
Let dreams slumbered live in daylight
Happen upon us another chance
To find joy in dance when steps alight
Rejuvenate that which lives within
Give wings to olden feet that falter
Perchance for us another to share
Romance in true loves requisite halter
Allow the breeze to blow in favor
On heads sprinkled lovingly with snow
To swing in another’s warm embrace
Basking in the warmth of true loves glow
Itsy Bitsy spider went up the wall of shower.
Itsy Bitsy spider, grabbed with piece of paper.
Itsy Bitsy spider was placed in toilet water.
Itsy Bitsy spider, wished he was in hamper.
Itsy Bitsy spider was now stuck in the crapper.
Itsy Bitsy spider went down in swirling water.
To take a shower, with an Itsy Bitsy spider,
Was not going to happen, upon any hour,
Without any cower, she finished her shower.