Best Hoary Poems


Premium Member The Invitation

December 25th-  The Christmas Wedding

Head-to-head,
Surrounded by seasonal silver bells
Scarlet passionate pink poinsettias sit
Foliage scenery 
Entwined by Christmas and Wedding bliss
Frosty winter weather warmed up by:
Rings of “I Do!”

The eyes of Eve hide underneath a white veil
Beautiful-
A bride walking down the misty mistletoe isle
Wondering why the majestic mustang moon sank without trace?

The aroma of pine trees idle into the death-defying fog
Fine firm decorated ribbons snug unopened gifts
Desperately-
Mistletoes wait above the tenable tint threshold
Kissing and Cheering
New Christmas Vows
In her hands, a beautiful bouquet 
-Bridal flowers for the maids
Forsaken by dark dusky dullness wedding cloud
Flustering fragrance thicken the chestnut cold air
Ornaments endured dreary tears

Despising the drapes of fog
That covers the newlywed winter show
Harmony withdrew from that winter wonderland
A white gown, not meant to be
Christmas crushed by her greed
The unkind erratic earth exchanged her own silent vows
In a horrifying hoary haze
A heavy foggy breeze dropped in like debris,
Blowing her tiara dreams away
On this very exact Christmas Day

:-)
11-22-13
Categories: hoary, anger, celebration, christmas, december,
Form: Epic

Cascading Love


By the breath of God frost is given ...
Hast thou entered into 
the treasures of the snow? ...
Out of whose womb came the ice?
and the hoary frost of heaven, 
who hath gendered it?
— Job 37:10; 38:22,29


Standing in the winter cold,
tasting the small snowflakes that fall
I think of you, my God ...
and your boundless cascading love
You revealed to me the secret treasures of the snow
How each small act of kindness
is like one little glistening snowflake that the wind blow
Your love so heavenly dispersed
across the whole earth
Billions and billions of countless snowflakes,
I open my mouth wide to taste
So much heavenly love cascading down;
I see the virgin snow shining all around,
as more snowflakes of love fall to the ground
Your godly wisdom shows us
that the heart of man wax cold
So You reveal the warmth of Your endless love
in the form of the falling snow
Your evergreen shower of white love covers the whole earth
Each small snowflake 
represents an act of pure faith birth love
given to each individual
Billions and billions of souls,
and billions of countless yet-to-be more
Be fruitful and multiply God said:
Let the whole earth abound with love
I see the snowflakes of cascading charity
shed abroad from the heavens above
Such pure, falling white love 
Oh, how the cold feels so warm!
So much infinite love cascading down
Your love, my God, truly transforms
And more snow, more snow ... more snowflakes
keep falling out from the storm — 
like hoar frost manna
falling down from the sky
They’re heavenly tears of joy ...
descending, 
gently melting in my mind
Of whose falling,
I now know the meaning why
Categories: hoary, love, snow, spiritual, wisdom,
Form: Free verse

Ode To Mother Ganga

No mere river, thou art nation’s heartbeat,
That you came from heaven may be a myth,
Not that for common good ye fell beneath,
For centuries ye lift people’s spirit.

Let me call thee India’s stand-in sub soul,
O Brahma-vari, heaven’s holy waters,
Thou worshipped art in thy all as a whole,
I bow to Thee, Holiest of all Daughters.

Many a meditating muni’s mind 
Mused were by thy serene, calming presence,
And far from the humdrum of mundane grind,
Shelter have found at thy banks for long hence.

King Bhagirath’s penance once brought ye here,
In penitence to wash ancestors’ sins,
With this hoary burden of long ye steer,
We need a new Bhagirath ye to cleanse.

Ye had, we know, condescended to come,
Known as Brahma’s haughtiest of daughters, 
Boasting of ‘my cascading flood waters’,
Shiva tamed thee, taught a lesson wholesome. 

Sad, mere rituals seem all that remain
Today, wreaking ‘pon thy soul vast damage,
Yet, all this done is in thy holy name,
Ye sure suffer, suffer in silent rage.

A holy thee flows in all us within,
We need not come to thee to wash our sin,
Bathe nor worship, sully thy soul so clean, 
But people are what they have always been.

O Mother, under thy sons’ sins ye moan 
As ye thyself need a bath of thy own. 
A poet was so pained and hurt to call: 
O Ganga, why ye care to flow at all! ____________________________________________
Brahma-vari in Sanskrit means (holy) water from Brahma, the supreme creator. Bhagirath (Sanskrit: ?????, Bhagiratha), a legendary king of Ikshvaku dynasty who brought the Sacred River Ganges (personified as the Hindu River Goddess Ganga) to earth from heaven to liberate his ancestors and Sagar’s sons from sins.

Ode |16.05.2021|
Topic: river, mother
Categories: hoary, mother, river,
Form: Ode

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Aurora Spills

"Aurora Spills"


Aurora spills like a waterfall
light from the eyes 
saltwater tears
crocodilian
scaled in the weight of worth
a drop in the ocean of fate
breaks the seaweed fields of stories 
they wave her in 
rippling time away
fingertips dance mesmerising
the stinging strangers
wrapped around her legs
treading water in deep 
infested notions 
the coolness of 
irreverent nonchalance
romantic or not
pulls her under covers 
like warm blankets
heavy comfort 
calls the broken
floating towards 
the shabby matrix
new gates of life open
mirrors crack like eggs
the vision reflects 
both light and dark
demon and saint 
their remnants 
embers, still 
in the coldness 
of prickly gloaming 
like glow worm glen 
fireflies red and glowing
sparks ignite 
a rapturous bushfire 
from cinders
billy tea leaves overturned 
empty cups read 
the yolk of a heart 
never lies 
fried casually 
by the over easy
in shallow pans 
of poetry 
under microscopes
of blithe mordant critique 
minute shards of gold 
are slowly sifted 
from the flotsam dross
some wisdom found
in the muddy fertile mind 
shooting up 
from 6ft underground
like small green plants 
growing under rocks 
with centipedes and 
the petulant poison of spiders
in pink reflection
insurgence blooms 
war never waits
silently the Pandoras smile
understanding all and nothing
of a small life distended,
swelling love 
for that which was stolen
where bursting broken blue weeds
undo frozen jewels 
diamonds sharp for the cutting 
shiny words spells of insanity
delicious moments
melting time swallowed
spoken without voice 
listening to ghosts
scratching through walls 
where life floods
from glass boxes 
coffins of buried treasure
banished 
kaleidoscope colours
overgrowing

(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)



“The Lady in the Lake”/ Elysian Fields
https://youtu.be/IjX8xfZ7sg0


“Out of whose womb came the ice
And the hoary frost of heaven
Who hath gendered it
The waters are hid as with a stone
And the face of the deep is frozen”







LYRICS/ “The Lady in the Lake”, Elysian Fields
https://genius.com/Elysian-fields-lady-in-the-lake-lyrics
Categories: hoary, muse,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member The Tempest

The Tempest

Upon enchanted sands of shipbreached shores
Dethroned beggar of a borrowed callow mystery
Heaves a lightning staff into the waves -
Thunderous and raw clandestine secrecy
On luminous swirling ariels sheering the celestial –
Into the curfew of castaway souls as a hoary appeal
Where storm surges loot delirium in foreboding typhoons
As rioting angels brood in their search
For the orphaned heart in tattered rags of upheaval.

Hear the muted tempest of dark depths roar
As wintered tantrums rock the shores
Leasing waves with unseen spells and charms,
Harnessing the tidal astrals in purifying
Tsunamis of holy risk –
Storm watch night, for souls in cataclysmic squalls,
Reshape the shallow shoals infected by deceit
Refresh the tidal pools emptied by betrayal
Now calm the ruffled gales -the shattered glassy sea,
Return from shipwrecked isle to fury abandoned shores.

11/3/2020
Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 6
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Inspired by Shakespeare’s The Tempest
Categories: hoary, life, ocean, peace, storm,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Manger Shadow

Manger Shadow

A shadow lurks behind the manger bed
 Swaddled by indifference,
  Creeping behind
 Lowing cows 
And 
Bleating sheep,
Power without power raising up a hoary head
 While in vanity dim shades attempt to weave
  A gloomy thread into the scent
   	 Of frankincense
		And
         Myrrh;
Endeavoring to cover ears of prophecy,
 Encouraging ignorance
  With busyness in crowded streets
     Of travelers taxed,
	Bowed down with burdens;
No Gloria’s heaven sent
As shadows pass in front of starlight
	On highways straight
	 Deserts wild
	  Mountains leveled
And star-struck strangers
	 Asking only for directions;
Where flowers,
	Blooming in the wilderness,
Lay trampled
 Beneath pilgrim’s feet;
Trying to drown out 
	Amen
		And
	In Excelsis Deo
Shouted out in triumph
	To wide eyes
		Keeping watch
			Beneath olive trees
Rather
 Longing to smother a baby’s breath
     With a snarl,	
Rejoicing only in the anticipated silence;
To leave no room at the inn
	For goodwill
		Or
	Shalom Eternal
Yet cower in a nightmare’s chaos,
	Breath held in,
For a kingdom lost by victory 
	Already claimed;
Futility, the unwelcomed guest,
 Birthing fury
  That pounds upon the chest of truth,
	Stalking the Word protected
          By holiness,
Claiming dice unfairly loaded
 To howl
	In rage
As justice and as peace now kiss –
As swords and spears
	Rise up
		As plows and pruning hooks
To tend the vineyard of the King
 Then sing out the great glad tidings
   On a mountaintop
Where people walk out of darkness
 Into light.
Categories: hoary, christmas,
Form: Free verse


Premium Member I Hear the Winter

I hear the winter call my name
in syllables bereft of breeze,
ethereal through silent trees
hypnotic in their leafless maim.

In sheerest blue of morning freeze
the shadows drape from rimy limbs
while through my head a matin swims
that beckons past the boundaries

of culture's polished monotone.
I'd ramble the denuded scape
past hoary waters' icebound gape,
to arcane winds my caution thrown.

Across the dawning's lambent sill
the winter calls.  I hear it still.
Categories: hoary, longing, nature, winter,
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Sailor’s Sunset

The sky broke like an egg into full sunset
and the water caught fire.
—Pamela Hansford Johnson

Sailor’s Sunset

Plummeting orb, hoary red sun,
envelopes us - we’ve just begun.
The ache of passion’s absorb.
Hoary red sun, plummeting orb.

The yolk baked ‘round the mammoth breast.
In loping eyes, our love’s expressed.
Infusion of colors, unbound.
The mammoth breast, the yolk baked ‘round.

Sailor’s sunset without warning.
Safe and sound, moaning in morning.
Life’s looking good from the onset.
Without warning - sailor’s sunset.
Categories: hoary, imagery, love, marriage, sensual,
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member All of Her Grandeur

All of Her Grandeur


Into the heartbeat of the blue sea of crystal paragon
Never calm, but constantly moving, ripples, hoary froth
Truly mysterious in its grandeur surpass attraction
Obedient to unimaginable fathoms depth

Never calm, but constantly moving, ripples, hoary froth
Unforeseen untamable freedom     that exquisite sweetness
Obedient to unimaginable fathoms depth
Thirsty for the endearment of helpless sandy shores

Unforeseen untamable freedom     that exquisite sweetness
Her heavenly breast with luscious relaxing sounds
Thirsty for the endearment of helpless sandy shores
Endless cool breeze scent of briny seaweed drifts off the waves

Her heavenly breast with luscious relaxing sounds
Blue sea merges into the rising blue heavens
Endless cool breeze scent of briny seaweed drifts off the waves
Under the shadow of the drifting shapeless clouds

Blue sea merges into the rising blue heavens
Liquescent sunset closes day with inviting twilight
Under the shadow of the drifting shapeless clouds
Effortlessly dissolving view completing dark blue night

Liquescent sunset closes day with inviting twilight
Truly mysterious in its grandeur surpass attraction
Effortlessly dissolving view completing dark blue night
Into the heartbeat of the blue sea of crystal paragon

2/28/2016
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: hoary, sea,
Form: Pantoum

Premium Member The Old Jam Jar

Wandering the virtual
green fields of home,
I open the farmyard gate
fall into a haze of retrospect.
I see a “LMS Black Five” Locomotive
bellowing upon a utilized line,
ghostly sparks tantalizing
the embankment.
Below a paddock ploughed,
sown with scattered seed
to germinate this memory
of that time past.
I stroll the hoary lane
beneath a pale cold eve,
discover soft mist stirring
upon the low moor, in warps
of time, giving in to modernization.
Mile high bracken upon the Beacon
under a clementine moonlight,
in shadows drifting to and fro
like the tide upon the silken sea.
At the old cottage
in Sugar Hill,
I see a cut glass vase, sitting supreme
upon the polished surface
with rose, carnation and dahlias,
near by a collection of love
in all those wonderful bluebells
from Nesfield.
“In the old Jam Jar”

Entered 2022 Poetry Marathon mile 14 contest
Sponsor Mark Toney
13/9/2022
Categories: hoary, old,
Form: Free verse

Journey To the Peak

Little blades of grass touching my naked feet
Oh, the soft pleasant touch, the trodden path
I am treading again; though this is my first
Venture, my maiden hike towards the peak
The great heights of the neighbouring mountains!
Have you ever lost yourself in the benumbing wilderness?
Have you ever heard the silent call of the Titans, metamorphosed
Into rocks? Little nameless flowers swaying their heads 
In an enchanted dance; the chill in the air 
Gently touching my mortal body, making a grand statement
“If the heaven exists anywhere, it’s here, it’s absolutely here”
The eternal path leads you from crag to crag, from bends to bends
Like a child of nature I play hide and seek with the impish fountains
And waterfalls, oh how majestically they cascade down 
On the wings of wild butterflies, 
Swiftly hiding 
Into impregnable gorges
The hairpin bends
Beckons
Oh, the wider stretch again
Looming, there is before, the endless and bottomless
Gulf of the sky, kissed benevolently by the sunny morning
High and hoary oaks and pines
Standing on both sides like insomniac sentries
The intolerable ache, nearly paralysed feet
One
Step 
Forward, another
One
Inflated lungs
Is it the end of the road?
Oh, god, at last, yeah, at last
I am on top 
I am looking beneath towards the inviting clouds
My eagle soul outstretches its wings

The sky kisses my forehead like my mother
 

17.09.2014
Contest: Pinnacle
Categories: hoary, adventure, heaven, journey,
Form: Romanticism

Premium Member Full Circle - 2020

Happiness is heaven, ecstasy gratifying
Sensual and satisfaction zest and delight.
I am quite confident; it comes all the year round.

It comes in the springtime when new buds appear
And nature's perfume fecundates the parks.
The season is warmer and children can play,
Listen to them, it’s laughter all the way.

It comes in summer, with hot and humid days,
We lie near each other savoring our ways.
The sea is calm and bathers can enjoy
Both a refreshing swim or some cold lollipops.

It comes in autumn with air that's so crisp
As the first snowflakes bring down the red dry leaves.
Thanksgiving is organized, a sumptuous feast.
Tilled harvested fields prepared as the chill is a beast.
 
But wet windy winter comes cold and hoary days
Snowfalls cover the roads and all stay snug in homes,
Everywhere fireplaces radiate warmth and shelter,
For many people think that happiness is not far away.

And so, as the year draws to a miserable end,
Let’s open a bubbly, and happy greetings send.
Categories: hoary, celebrity, seasons,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Those Immortal Burma Shave Signs

Those BURMA SHAVE signs used to give us kids something to do,
As down the highways and byways in our 1935 Dodge we flew!
The chef-d'oeuvre from the quills of very creative poets flowed,
Nailed to fence posts for our cultural enlightenment along the road!

Take note of this sign young reader as you pass this way!
In just a little while you too will be hoary and gray!
And like your Pa with steady hand be true and brave,
As you wield that straight razor usin' BURMA SHAVE!

She told her beau, "You remind me of a thug,
With that scraggly stubble sproutin' on yer mug!
If its my hugs and kisses that you crave,
Best ya start usin' BURMA SHAVE!"

The feller tried over and over to get a job,
But potential bosses thought him a slob!
Never apply for work looking like a knave!
Use gobs of BURMA SHAVE when you shave!

With her feller Mabel had a beef.
Claude's stubble caused her grief!
Said she, "Yer wreckin' our romance!
Ever thought of usin' BURMA SHAVE by chance?"

If on your mug you are well endowed
With stubble of which you're not proud
In the mornin' after yer kisser you scrub,
Liberally slather with BURMA SHAVE, old Bub!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Categories: hoary, humorous, nostalgia,
Form: Rhyme

An Art of Breathing

What loathesome burden wears your weary heart
a trinket on a cold and hoary hand?
And in its dark tide drowns the cheery part
to keep you bound, a pet, upon its strand?

Without a keel, alone and sad, unmanned
to sail the main and brave the tempest storm;
it claims the fairer part with stark demand,
and wails its horrid knell upon reform.

Stand now and rend the pall that kept you warm
and stagnant to the early morning light.
Cast out the deaf'ning rage of crushing swarm
and air the sweetness of your bitter plight.

Release your deathly grip on this disease,
And from your fingers let it fly the breeze.
Categories: hoary, introspection
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Frost Like Filigree

~ Frost
         by
             design
~ delicate,
       crafted in the night,
            dainty — like lacy handiwork
~ inspirational, like twisted wire, a story told —
details meted out behind heaven’s door, with peculiarities that we adore


~ O
      please
         inspect
            windowpane 
crystalline effects ~
       ~ seraphic white silver and gold —
the finest craftsmanship, twisted with Eden’s treasure ~
filigree beads of angelic hoary-breath, reminders of the invisible God


~ Rime
clings
   to soil,
inspired world —
   embraced by cold hands ~
          fragile tendrils spread like ivy,
                      intricate cherubic smithing — like spider webbing,
subtleties sensational, O how it sparkles ~ seasonal diamondiferous earth


1/24/2018
The Magic Of Three
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
Fibonacci (8 lines) x 3 = 24 lines(pattern- 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 syllables)
Categories: hoary, nature,
Form: Fibonacci
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