Best Hovering Poems
How many have ever heard the song "Somewhere in Time?"
It's a song with only music and with no words or rhyme.
"Fantasie Impromtu" is another one written by Chopin?
Also a song of rare beauty without words thrown in.
These two songs along with "Moonlight Sonata" were played by my son.
He's an acomplished pianist who can play most any run.
He played these songs at my funeral last week.
Don't be shocked all you people keep on sitting in your seat.
You Poetry Soup poets who are sitting there reading this write.
Yes you! Don't turn around and look behind you or look to the right!
Do you feel that erie feeling in your tummy right now?
Well! It's because of me! I'm hovering over you somehow!
No don't look! You won't see me.
My spirit is floating above your right shoulder freely.
I'm watching you read your poems. Did you get some good comments today?
Yes I saw where you wrote that beautiful verse, and that nice display!
You deserve that nice comment. How about your soupmail? Are there very many?
Did someone tell you a secret? Remember! I won't tell and I know a plenty!
I've been watching you on Poetry Soup for hours writing your poems that rhyme.
You're writing about love and mysteries, about cat tails, building spaceships and rhyme
time!
You're writing of happy new year, time warps, romantic longings and betrayals and how do
you do it,
One of you says your poems are like children to you, one writes of beautiful women
with wit
And one of you even wrote of hanging berries! And all of these wonderful poems I've read.
I have hovered over many of you and you never even knew I was dead,
Such wonderful talented writers we have on Poetry Soup.
Everyone writes his own style that belongs to this group.
So take heed when you sit down to write a new rhyme.
And know that someone's watching you write all this time.
And when you feel that erie feeling in your tummy right now.
Well! It's because of me! I'm hovering over you somehow!
Angels within their delicate disguise,
Beckoning flights of the butterflies…
Mystical mosaics with enticing eyes,
Dreamscapes of ambiance will arise…
Kissing their lavender soulful skies,
In endless motions they harmonize…
In magical movements they hypnotize,
Flapping of their wings will mesmerize…
Frolicking upon fields they formalize,
Majestic Monarchs as they colonize…
Reflecting rainbows as they symbolize,
Secreting beauty to the early sunrise.
Oct.02.2019
Writing Challenge, October - Butterfly
Sponsored by: Dear Heart- Wiishkobe Ode
Music by...Frenmad
"Butterfly Kisses"
Placed 1'st...Thank You
Omnipresent shame hovering in the cold dark sky,
Following your soul wherever you silently cry.
Release the shield, let light shine through.
Opening your heart to the unbridled truth.
Truth is reality, reality is sin.
Sometimes healing is just knowing where to begin.
A helicopter hovered
In the east side New York sky.
It looked just like the hummingbirds
I spot in mid-July.
Its headlight darted left and right,
Like it was on a quest.
I wondered if the search was real,
Or was it just a test?
No boats were in the river
Over which the copter hovered;
That made me think that there was nothing
There to be discovered.
Some minutes passed and then it slowly
Chop-chop-chopped away.
Another New York mystery
To supplement my day.
Hovering, eyes so keen they see
the imprint of DNA run through
its unsuspecting quarry
Muscles ache, the wait unbearable.
Each crystallised moment of time is
a chapter, wrapped around a scented
taste of cloudless sky
On the ground a cautious proboscis,
bristles and explores, its owner the
protector of tight young bellies
demanding their next meal.
These incentives, become the lure for a
short foray into the outside larder. And
tendons help stretch half-filled pouches
of seeds, packaged ready for the table
Hovering above, nature's instinctive neurons
release a calculated dive. Casting a Centre-point
shadow of increasing consequence. Followed by a
swift snatch, the chapter closes and normal time resumes
In talloned grasp and on winged journey,
the struggling proboscis has time to make
peace with herself, empty her pouches and
gorge one final meal
hummingbirds are God's gift to us . . .
with their unique "flight" - their agile hovering and darting
some with brilliant iridescent plumage and jeweled adornments
and others duller in colors of browns or greens . . .
a tiny
swift~ precious and delightful bird
~ I have created a garden to attract their flower affinity
as the hummingbirds have a need for sweet nectar
and they have a niche no other bird can occupy in my heart ~
I love their wild beating wings
and their squeaky high-pitched chirps and whistles
I never tire of watching those long bills dipping
deep into a flower and those forked tongues lapping
the sweetness . . .
~ my garden is full of wildflowers
that hummers' like- lots of trumpet blooms brightly colored
and places for pendent cupped nests protected from sun and rain ~
yes, hummingbirds need a place for nocturnal resting too
then, starting in the early morn'
they come darting to dazzle me
with their unique fearless dashing "flight" ~
and giving them my love I have given them a fountain bath
as there is nothing more divine than to watch them
splashing and ruffling their feathers . . . in the falling water
oh, I do love hummers' taking a hovering 'bath' . . .
~ there is a peace in their dashing among my flowers
the lupines, foxglove, nasturtiums, lilies and others
they also like my hanging baskets of petunia and verbena
. . . so, they grace my porch too ~
__________________________
June 09, 2022
Poetry/Free Verse/hovering flight
Copyright Protected, ID 06-1463-614-09
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Flight 2
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judged 06/24/2022
Third Place
drenched in the way
your words press into my core
like a nucleur expectation
i grew with the weight of three worlds on my shoulders.
fragile as i was ,
i attempted to carry all of them:
your last chance ,
your last chance to prove
that you ,were a good parent .
my last chance to prove
i'm more than a kid from the streets.
their last chance to see
someone actually make it.
mistakes surround me,
failures in my blood
thicker than our relation.
i feel it,
pulsating ,
as the tempermental flares
send uv flames
onto my trembling limp
limbs.
controlled by wanting ,
wanting to exceed,
wanting to meet,
at some halfway point
just so i know that I'm making progress.
because i've been running in
footsteps
so many have tred
that they have started to wear,
and soon I can't see if I'm still standing
in a shadow
or paving my own concrete.
i'm not a god,
and I can't do everything.
failure ,
taunting me
whispering
that i will never be anything more
that another human being,
striving for the power of the gods,
for the perfection
of the heavens.
But I don't really mind
my imperfection
because I've come to realize
that I can never be a god
with these feet that have been planted
firmly on this ground
and no matter how many pairs
of wings
I've managed to fabricate
We can't all be Icarus.
I can walk,
on this ground,
as clumsy as I am,
making mistakes
and saying to the
blood that I fear.
"I'll be okay"
and though your expectations
torment me.
Your words so contradicting,
your hopes foreshadow fears,
and create doubts
of being anything..
but I don't let them weigh me down
And though I may never fly,
at least I'll hover.
The hovering mother is never quite out of sight.
She hovers morning, midday, noon, and night
Darting from tree to tree, she’d fervently hide,
Or at the back of a bus, when they took a ride.
Looking for ways, to keep out of view,
Believing she’s diligent, but has nothing better to do,
Her children sigh, whenever she comes near,
For the freedom they seek, she lives...in fear.
"Protection", she says, is her duty to perform,
But instead of good, all she’s doing is harm.
The hovering mother, who learnt a tad late,
That the world exists in and outside her gate.
She learned how to show, as well as to speak,
That it’s easier to hide, and harder to seek,
From airbrushed billboard, to subliminal screen,
Much more lies hidden...than is openly seen.
Cakes and biscuits have ingredients easily bought,
But we grow through lessons, both tried and taught.
Tell her it’s okay, to sometimes take a peripheral view.
Have a much-needed rest, do something creative, or new.
Children need to be heard, and space to grow,
Not a hovering mother who's always in tow.
Joanna Davis
I saw you hovering
outside in mid air,
I ran to get my camera
then you weren't there.
I waited for a few minutes
for you to come back,
straight to the feeder you flitted
intelligence, you didn't lack.
I snapped a few pictures
but they turned out blurry,
I tried my best to keep calm
and to not be filled with fury.
I've waited a long time
since I moved into my new home,
to get pictures of a hummingbird
now every day, outside I will roam.
Now I've got pictures
I'm going to print a few,
frame them and put them all over my walls
no more need to feel blue.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
May.13/2015
I am definitely going to print a few pictures and hang them all over my walls. I had a busy day today trying to get my housework done, but something was telling me to look outside and when I did, I saw a hummingbird go to my feeder.
Hovering Palette:
flutter of wings painting a
skyward picture scene
Hovering somewhere
at times alongside
betimes even over
Detached
out of sync
removed from
A world once so important
~ mocks my very existence
Truth's hovering within soul but blinking mind can't catch for restlessness
i saw my face in your eyes before our marriage
felt to be matched with and made for each other
rhythm of your nuance was with me in those days
as the river earth and water tied together as one
shimmering waves of feeling carried heavenly waltz
our bower was our closed chests of tranquility
adored each other we were in oneness in soul
all these are my golden days' sweet memories
now my sullen solitude embarks painful hysteria
hovering at the threshold of my self lost paradise
A Mystic’s Verse, I Will Listen
I roamed plains, prairies, climbed peaks.
I fell into seas, slept and dreamed in valleys.
I groped about, lost in darker veins.
I rode a white mare into burning light.
I crept endless roads of loss,
Trying all the angles,
Having only a touch of vague friends.
Never simple. Not easy. No foundation
Before I asked for you to come
To touch my soul. To surround. To capture,
To pervade.
In the absolute. To expect
To hear your voice, which by faith
Of a knowing I would...I did. Believe.
On a hot, June night, laying out flat
Back on the dusty floor. Secluded.
I did not see the hovering dove. But, I heard,
Not to my outer ears.
To my fully inner receiving. Undeniably you.
Greater than an intuition. An expanding
Of the soul to total revealed being —
In communion with the message;
In surrender to the creator of love;
Bringing an ecstasy.
Of the Promises. Of all possibilities.
Of those visions of the prophets. Full messages.
No more roaming. Tho altogether freed.
A rose brushed onto my life. And
Words sent to comfort, to grip, to secure.
Made a witness. Called a daughter...
Hearing the calls to her soul.
Alleluia! Lord be praised!
Bless us, every one.
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(c) sally young eslinger1/17/2021
Thanks be to God
Just passing by
Looking at you
Hoping for a quick smile
You just made my day