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The Best Iambic Pentameter Poems

Because of You

I used to be naive, I used to trust
but then that trust just crumbled into dust
the world at large is so unkind, it's true
there is the world at large, and then there's you

You are the one on whom I rest my soul
my naked thoughts reveal without control
You are the one to banish every doubt
to make me see what trust is all about

You are the one I tell each secret fear
the one whose fragrant promise lingers near.
You are the one who knows my hidden ways
Who fills with love the moments and the days

You are my fortress sure, my anchored dream
I lie still in your arms in flowing stream
You are the one who loves without degree
the one whose smile erases history

You are the lover's hope avowed in pledge
A sure security when life's on edge
You are my truth, my strength, my everything
Because of you, my heart and soul can sing

Eileen Manassian 

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2017

Ancient Warrior

I see the wrinkles in your suntanned brow,
You carried burdens then; you see them now.
You’ve heard the cries your people who in pain,
Have shed their tears two hundred years like rain. 

Your sad brown eyes, reflecting now the sky
I see the wings of eagles flying by
Beside you stands an Appaloosa mare
Her spirit one with you now over there.

You hear the drums, they bid you to come near,
Your spirit drawn the beats they ring so clear.
Song like prayers are chanted through the night,
Calling you come, and help them end their plight.  

You’ve heard sad cries and now stand at their side,
You join the prayers with both arms open wide,
United spirits sing until the dawn,
When in the fire’s flames a golden fawn.

Remembering a smile crosses your face,
When tribes were one with Mother Nature’s grace.
The lakes and streams flowing with waters clear,
Flow sadly now, the planet lives in fear.

The weightless feathers that adorn your head
Your tribes grey future weighed you down instead.
Now breathing deep you smell the winds of change
While here on earth your people rearrange.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.21.2014
Giorgio A.V. Contest 
Iambic Pentameter 
1st place

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

My Kind

I will not dim my light so you can shine
I will not still my voice so you can scream
I will not quench my blaze so you can burn
I will not hush my thoughts so you can dream

I will not stifle truth so you can preach
I will not slink away so you can claim
I will not be demure so you can boast
I will not bend my head so you can blame

I will not hide my thirst so you can drink
I will not stave my wants so you can eat
I will not follow, just to let you lead
I will not stand so you can take my seat

Equality is what I’m striving for
The days must end when men demand to rule
My voice will not be silenced; all will hear:
A woman is a blessing, not a tool

She is the beauty of bejeweled night
She is the wonder of the dawning day
Her wisdom she can temper with her might
She is the one to show Compassion's way

You do her wrong when you suppress her song
When callus hearted-mind sees but her form
Her virtue is her gentle loving soul
Tranquility is she when not the storm

I will not be untrue to gendered grace
to fit the manly notions of your mind
I’ll speak and love and laugh, and yes, I’ll thrive!
With pride I’ll see you bow to womankind

Eileen Manassian

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2017

The Ride

The old man looked a little out of place
Astride his pony on the carousel
A smile from yesterday across his face
As if he were entranced in some strange spell

A silver knight upon a silver steed
A cowboy riding herd out on the range
The little boy inside had been set free
Between the up and down, we watched him change

And when it stopped he sat there deep in thought
He pulled the little boy in with a sigh
A memory is what his dollar bought
I'm sure the price was not what made him cry

Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2017

A Peaceful I Love You

An early outing for my friend and I
We walked the winding path down to the springs
The uncut winter hay is now waist high 
And in the morning breeze it softly sings

Red Indian paintbrushes are in bloom
As are the downy phlox and dogwood trees
How sweet the smell of birth in nature's womb
Attracting butterflies and honey bees

The passerine song birds are in full throat
While woodpeckers and sap suckers keep time
Mid air, white cotton hayseeds gently float
So gracefully they dance their pantomime

And in that moment, in the tarnished hay
The gurgling springs still hidden from my view
With nature's springtime beauty on display
I heard her say a peaceful. "I love you"


   by Daniel Turner

Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2018

Dillard Mill

It rained all night. The day rose dripping grey.
The cool air, welcome after summer’s heat
Smelled finally like fall. The first red flames
Of sumac bushes shone beside the street.

At noon, the mill pond mirrored clouds on blue.
The Huzzah Creek splashed sparkles off the falls.
The solid mill stood watching silently,
Machines asleep inside behind red walls.

The buckeye trees, already bare of leaves,
Had strewn their shiny fruit across the ground.
And I collected, joyful as a child,
The great brown treasure: chestnuts, smooth and round. 

October 12, 2016

Copyright © Agnes Krampe | Year Posted 2016

Watercolor Afternoon

The rain set me adrift inside a dream
My mind was on a painting miles upstream
An unforgotten "en plein" I once viewed
A light pastoral springtime interlude

Two horses, one snow white, one shiny black
Two barefoot boys in blue jeans ride bareback
Through pasture weeds bloomed orange almost red
White fluffy mountains loomed as thunderheads

A lightning bolt sends thunder through gray skies
The vivid colors blend in teary eyes
One brother's love becomes a blurry stain
In windows streaked with rivulets of rain

From inside looking out my hourglass
I watched as nature painted winter's grass
Entranced from listening to her rhythmic rune
One April watercolor afternoon
 


     by Daniel turner

Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2018

The Old House

Seven generations walked through your door,
Which stood so strong and always welcomed in.
You said goodbye when boys headed to war,
Two soldiers lost to battles they can’t win.

Your kitchen always busy as a bee,
With canning, baking apple crumble cake.
Stone hearth, a place for warmth and drink some tea,
The table decked with riches to partake.

The living room a place to sit and chat,
With pictures hanging for one hundred years.
A chair still there where ancestors once sat,
This room for laughter and at times for tears.

Your nursery where many babies grew,
With bassinet where ev’ry child did lie.
The paint would change at times from pink to blue,
A place where time would always quickly fly.

The floors within have felt each child’s first walk,
Their worn out wood drowned many times with stain.
You watched the aging people gently rock,
You’ve heard and felt the tapping of a cane.

I stand and listen in your sacred halls
And feel that you’re a part of everyone.
Each breath we took embedded in your walls,
Of fathers, mothers, daughters and of sons.

Old house of stone your warmth embraces me,
Your children now all scattered far and wide.
You still stand proud for all the world to see,
The thoughts of you, sweet memories inside.

The house my children grew up in.

Iambic Pentameter  
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.02.2014
Giorgio’s Contest: Iambic Verse III
2nd
Best of 2014  1st place

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

Broken Wings

As the sun arose in the eastern skies 
a fairy princess sits rubbing her eyes.
Yawning she glimpses her magical isle 
and her tiny lips, curl into a smile.

Standing she stretches in her treetop bed,
anxious anticipates what lies ahead.
She flutters her wings to get them ready,
raising one knee, she jumps slow and steady.

Hovering like, a hummingbird she glides
then races off with both arms at her sides.
With lots to see her day has just begun,
she never stops until the setting sun.

Racing through the forest over fields of wheat
smelling the flowers, is her daily treat.
Talks to the butterflies this sunny morn,
tests the fresh honey and tastes some sweet corn.

Spotting a pond sparkling like a mirror 
zooms back and forth each time getting nearer,
watching her reflection, no time to think
crashed in a deer who had just stopped to drink.

Later discovers she’s broken her wings,
Lies in bed knowing what carelessness brings.
Six months of bed rest was taking their toll,
this fairy princess was losing her soul.

Finally the day came to test her wings
her will is determined her heart now sings,
shouts out with joy as she reaches the sky,
nothing feels greater, than when you can fly.

Iambic Pentameter 
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
01.14.2015
Contest: Sketch a Fictitious Character II

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2015

Put on Your Warrior Spirit

Don't let him sway you with his sultry rhymes
Don't let him woo and steal your heart away
Don't let him touch your soul with soulful lines
You know, my dear, he only wants to play

Don't let him tell you that you are divine
Don't let him make you think that you're unique
Don't let him say your eyes are pools sublime
You know, my dear, he wants to make you weak

He wants to break defenses and come in
To taste the hidden pleasures of your heart
He wants to take, to conquer, and to win
and then to leave when you've been torn apart

There is no greater pain than wounded pride
When truth reveals betrayal's sharpened knife
Revenge will be the thorn there in your side
For he has taken love, and dreams and life

So do not let him win in lover's game
Pick up your sword and gird yourself to fight
If you succumb, you will not be the same
I urge you then to vanquish with your might

Then still your heart and let it dormant lie
Let not your eyes take in the beauty there
He will not stop; he will most surely try
To ravish you and leave you naked, bare

So fight with all your might this war to win
Don't let your guard now slip; be strong and brave
take heed to what I say; don't fall in sin,
for none but you, your heart and soul can save

Eileen

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

To the Scoffers of Sensual Writes

To those who think that poetry must be
of lofty things, not sensuality
To those who write of stars and sun and moon
and who to romance will not ever swoon

To those who write of angst and misery
of all that has gone wrong in history
To those who think I write frivolity
and read not what I write: an oddity!

I write to you, and all my thought's I'll bare
and see if you can argue if you dare
If you’ve forgotten passion's blazing fire
Or how consumed your heart was with desire

If you’ve forgotten romance in the night
Or making love in early morning light
If you’re denied the thrill of ecstasy
And can’t bear witness to its urgency

If you have come of age when health concerns
are all of life that now your mind discerns
I tell you dear, the fault is yours not mine
Devoid of love life meets not plan divine

The gift of love is granted from on high
You can’t deny that even if you try
the pleasure’s woven in anatomy
He formed and blessed our sensuality

To reproduce was in his own design
But also to enjoy the act sublime
There is a little bud that’s meant to thrill
It’s only use is pleasure to fulfill

So tell me, what is life if not for this
To show commitment with the sweetest kiss
In right communion to be drenched in love
And in its throes to glide to heights above

My fellow poet, write of lofty things
And all the finer thoughts that wisdom brings
I pity you for love and passion’s reign
Has banished you from glory with disdain

All nature and all life with love is mixed
And so my mind with passion is transfixed
It’s love that makes this world go round and round
Without it, best be buried underground.

Eileen Manassian

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

Caressed By Vines

Caressed By Vines


Like tender loving arms, they wrap around
   old monuments of stone set on the ground.
Those silent sentinels that stand their guard
   above the souls, we honor and regard.

To honor and regard through all the years
   where loved ones come to speak unhappy tears.
Beneath the summer rain and winter snow,
   these monuments of stone, their sorrow show.

Like tender arms, the vines embrace the stones
   to comfort them, these guardians of bones
who bear the sadness brought to them to share,
   by those who stand and weep in silent prayer.

The tender vines grow thicker 'round the tombs...
   create a leafy shawl that lives and blooms,
and shows the hope of new life after death 
   which tangled vines embrace with living breath.

Like tender loving arms, they wrap around
   these lasting monuments where peace is found,
and frame the name of each whose life reclines...
   now resting safe and sound, caressed by vines.


Sandra M. Haight

~3rd Place~
Contest: Your Best Rhyming Poem 2
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Judged: 02/03/2017

~2nd Place~
Contest: Overgrown With Vines
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 10/08/2016

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016

A Thousand Years From Now

For he who leans upon the ancient tree
In future’s shade, a thousand years from now
Will you engage a wrinkle in your brow
And ponder ore’ the death of fallen leaves?

Are we so not alike in fairness gained
Or time might choose to forge us enemy?
Would cloak, or hair, or skin, a different blend
Invite those eyes to shun away from me?

If first, those born, have greater weight to bear
Or yours, one day, the lift more heavy lot
Each step by step, we travel blind and torn
Do crossroads come the same or some are not?

Will one day find you leaning by a tree
And find a stone beneath the powdered dust
And wonder if it once belonged to me
To think it bone, or questions turned to rust?

___________________________________________
Iambic Pentameter........By Carrie Richards

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011

The Elves Snow Party

Away up north where it’s snowing they say
the elves are preparing for Christmas day.
Big elves little elves, busier than bees
All building toys, for under Christmas trees.

Some work with hammers others building bikes,
some riding through the room on brand new trikes.
Tiny elf voices ringing loud and clear,
everyone’s full of love and Christmas cheer.

Suddenly the chatter stops; all are still,
Santa walked in the room with book and quill.
Looking down at his book, Santa Clause stared,
then lifted his eyebrows as he declared,

Today I looked inside my books
and I found that we are ahead,
and thought because you worked so hard 
we shall all go outside instead.
Misses Claus made lots of sweet treats
so let’s all eat and be hearty,
for today here at the North Pole
all elves shall have a snow party.

Quick as a wink the elves they disappeared,
Santa just smiled as he tugged at his beard.
Laughing he watched his little friends scatter
and soon the mountains echoed with laughter.

Snowballs were flying, snowmen taking form,
and hot chocolate kept little elves warm.
They were sledding, skiing, skating all day,
see, elves aren’t simply, all work and no play.



Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
11.29.2014
Contest: Children’s Christmas or Holiday Tale
1st place

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

A Poem of Ruth

The tears well up, and scarce could she not moan
When father, brother, husband, all have died.
She now has no possessions, neither home,
But travels to a distant, unknown land:
Once so secure, yet now compelled to roam;
Once rich in love, she treads through foreign sands.
Her weary feet move forward but by faith;
For all left to her name is mere belief:
Mind, heart so far away she seems a wraith-
Love, happiness- all taken by a thief.

When, sometime since, her heart had broke in two,
The path of life, once single, parted way;
Forsake she could, but this she would not do-
All else was gone- with mother she would stay:
"Intreat me not to leave thee," was her plea,
"For whither thou wilt go, there will I; pray
Forbid me not to follow after thee,
For where thou lodgest I would also stay:
"Thy people shall be mine, thy God my God;
And where thou liest, I will gladly lie
Beside thee, overhead the selfsame sod;
That even then thou mightest be closeby.

"And so they twain walk on, hand clasped in hand;
Both hold the only thing they yet possess:
The younger but a stranger in the land,
An enemy, a widow in distress.

She rose before the sun to find a place
Where she might gather barley ears and wheat;
A field where she might find some needed grace
To gather for their winter store of meat:
Then Boaz comes from Bethlehem, and see,
He tarries with the reapers of the wheat:
He comes to Ruth and says, "Hear'st not thou me?
Remain until the harvest is complete:
"Go not from hence, but in my fields abide,
And let thine eyes be on the field they reap;
Behold, these maidens thou may'st work beside,
And near the reapers thou may'st ever keep."
Then to her face she fell, and wond'ringly
Asked why to her, a stranger, was so kind;
And he replied that she unfailingly
Had cleaved unto her mother with one mind,
And left her father, mother, and the soil
Of her nativity, and kissed the dust
Of some strange land wherein she meant to toil;
Forsaking gods of Moab God to trust:
"The Lord," said he, "reward thee for thy deeds,
 And recompense thy labour and thy love:
The God of Israel answer all thy needs,
And make his wings a shelter from above."
 Then said the maid, "My lord, please let me find
Some grace and favour in thy blessed sight,
For that thou hast been friendly, spoken kind,
And I am but a stranger in the night."
Then Boaz said, "At mealtime here abide;
Rest in the shade, come, sit with us and dine:
So down she sat, a reaper on each side;
She ate her wheat and dipped her bread in wine.
Then Ruth arose, and to her work she leaves:
The master thus commands his servant men,
"Let this young maid glean e'en among the sheaves;
Rebuke her not, for she shall come again;
And let some handfuls fall onto the ground,
There let them lie for my sake and for hers
That she may glean and plenty may be found;
For reasons she has need of it are pure."
And as she worked, Ruth knew not what a sight
Of beauty and of diligence she made,
As in the golden field in sunset's light
She bowed her head and knelt as if she prayed.

It came to pass that in his fields she stayed
Until the end of barley harvest came,
When mother told the lovely little maid
To seek for his provision and his name.
She washed and dripped an oil filled with sweet
Perfumes of wild roses on her face:
She had not much; her beauty was complete
With but her finest clothes to seek his grace.
Her braided hair shone brighter than the gem
That never graced her soft and shapely form;
Her eyes, they sparkled brighter than the hem
Of gold and pearls that she had never worn:
Thus Ruth went down unto the threshing floor
Where Boaz winnowed barley till the night,
And peeked at him so shyly 'round the door;
She never let him leave her searching sight.
His workday done, the master ate and drank;
With happiness his heart was full when fed:
Then by a heap of wheat he went and sank
Into the furry robes that made his bed;
And Ruth, a while watching till he sleep
Kept vigil from a stone used as a seat,
Till when his eyes had closed and sleep was deep
She lifted up the cover from his feet
And softly laid her down and dreamed of brides
Until the watchman struck a dozen beats,
And being startled, Boaz woke and spied
A woman sleeping at his very feet:
"Who art thou?" queried he in sleepy voice;
"Thine handmaid, Ruth," was her unsure reply;
Then blessed he her for wise and kindly choice,
For passing poor and rich young fellows by.
"And now, my daughter, gladly shall I do
According to thy wishes, for all here
Consider thee as virtuous and true;
Howbeit, there is one to thee more near,
A kinsman who must duly have his say:
If he decline, then rest assured I will
Perform the part of kinsman." So she lay
Down at his feet, and both were quiet, still.

In grey of early morning she arose,
Before a face could be discernéd there;
To keep from what some people might suppose
And who might stand along the road to stare:
Then Boaz said, "Bring here the vail thou hast
Upon thy head and hold it in thy hand:
Six times the barley measure filled and passed
From heap to vail as much as she could stand.
Then Boaz went up to the city gate
To find the nearer kinsman, whom he sought,
To see if he would purchase the estate
Of Ruth, and she herself, but he could not;
So Boaz purchased all the widows' land;
The houses, barns, and fields, though overgrown;
And bought what pleased him most, Ruth's comely hand
To cherish and to make his very own:
Then Boaz went to find the handmaid, Ruth
And lift her from a servant to a wife;
To love her in all tenderness and truth
In every day God blessed them both with life.



[By Isaiah Zerbst. Published 9/7/14. Parts of poem have been removed due to soup's limitations.]

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2014

My Heart and Soul Cry Justice

Love Justice made me wrest you from her bed
It’s right for you to lie with me instead
For you were mine before she came to be
A prowling threat to our felicity

My broken heart cries…JUSTICE!

It’s meant for me to ravish you tonight
To give you pain as well as sheer delight
I love you still and yet your heart must pay
For shameless way you gave my love away

My wounded pride cries...JUSTICE

And here you are inside my bed of love
I’ve bound you up, no more a gentle dove
I take revenge on body and your soul
Enslaved, you yield to dominatrix role

My passion mad cries…JUSTICE

I take from you: I take, I take, I take
Each pleasure filled, I writhe and make you quake
I kiss, caress, and taste in wanton might
Your eyes ablaze, your fervor I ignite

My vengeful soul cries…JUSTICE

And all the while I hear you gasp MY name
In ecstasy my spoils of war I claim
You beg forgiveness as you helpless lie
I satiate my needs; fulfilled I sigh

My hungry need cries…JUSTICE

This tryst was meant to teach you lover's pain
You bear the marks of love that is insane
I slash your bonds and fall in your embrace
For I have seen the wonder in your face

Relieved am I, for I have tasted JUSTICE!

For Justin Bordner’s Love Justice Contest
January 18, 2015

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

Cosmos Configurator

When I gaze far off into the night sky
The chaos is not pleasing to the eye.
Seems there was never an overall plan
When the beginning of time began.

I don’t mean to sound so high and mighty
But the stuff up there’s not very tidy.
Yes, there are luminous constellations
But it needs cosmic configuration.

When figuring out just how to plan it
I started on the jumbled up planets.
It’s not a stretch to say they need sorting
And here are a few things I’m purporting.

First I thought they should be alphabetized
Or at least ordered according to size.
They could be arrayed by number of moons
But I think that’s getting too picayune.

Sure, there is a listing of other things
Like arranging them by their colored rings.
Or by what lie’s hidden beneath the dust
That entirely coats their outer crust.

I settled and placed them by dimension
As said plan will cause the least contention.
Starting with the sun, since that big old orb,
Can’t help but lead; being so self absorbed.

Petite planet Pluto, this time is first
Mercury’s next, then trodden Mars comes third.
After that Venus, followed by our Earth
Which were in that order, now they’re by girth.

Let’s jump up to Neptune, then Uranus
Which happens to rhyme with Ignoramus.
Yes fancy Saturn, you go next in line
Jupiter’s last, since so easy to find.

Let’s continue this celestial tale
By systematizing the scene, broad scale.
We’ll journey further than Venus and Mars
To coordinate the world of stars.

We can array each pulsar by brightness
Which doesn’t interest me the slightest.
Or chart them based on their distances from us
Though why on Earth quibble with all that fuss?

Instead we’ll do what the globe mappers did
And arrange every star on a grid,
We’ll plot a rough draft on large graph paper
Like olden times, by light of a taper.

Now, you can choose a square and stick by it.
Worry free of the old cosmic riot.
Where each and every star is viewed best
Whether gazing to north, south, east or west.

The sky is looking much better by now
And all the skeptics will have to avow.
That once you know how to rework matter
Like here on earth, it’s the size that matters.

Copyright © David Fisher | Year Posted 2013

The Woodcarvers Reward

He walked along the beach a man forlorn
Forgotten were his dreams, his heart was torn
The gentle waves spoke of the years gone by
And drew salt water down from saddened eye  

He saw some driftwood lying on the shore
It sparked his interest and he longed for more
He touched it gently, to his great delight
Sandalwood he’d found:  passion to ignite

The need to carve once more came to his mind
A joy he’d lost and could no longer find
He took it home, that battered piece of wood
With hopes to turn it into something good

A mane of hair took shape beneath his hands
Flowing waves of curly wooden strands
Round shoulders of the woman of his dreams
And breasts and waist of beauty carved supreme

Gracefully her form began to take on shape
When he was done he stood there mouth agape
She was a goddess made of his desire
A love for her consumed him like a fire

At night he wished upon a falling star
She’d come to life and chase his sorrows far
He looked at her before he fell asleep
And smiled for he’d forgotten how to weep

He felt a stirring there beside his bed
A presence seemed to hover near his head
He looked upon his statue now in flesh
Her body like a breeze was young and fresh

She pressed her lips so gently over his
“I need to tell you, love, listen to this
I was discarded, battered, wounded sore
I chose to be a part of life no more

You saw in me my hidden beauty fine
Your wish has reached the heart of the Divine
I stand before you, answer to your prayer
Sent to give you love and tend’rest care.”

She kissed his lips, and veiled him in her hair
His tears she wiped, this answer to his prayer
With him she lay, her breast his pillow sweet
The richest fare of sandalwood, his treat

What else transpires is curtained from our sight
Burning sandalwood…..scents the glowing night

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013

I Loved You Once

I loved you once like sun rays love the earth
Like drenching rain that brings with it new birth
I loved you once like waves that reach for shore
And then recede to come in strength once more

I loved you once like stars that pulse with light 
Held captive to the Milky Way’s delight 
I loved you once like moonbeams touching trees
That dance within the branches as they please

I loved you once like clouds that grace the sky
Ethereal testaments to love on high 
I loved you once like tender falling snow
Embellishing the world in splendid show

I loved you once like angels drawing near
To bring the needed comfort and to cheer
I loved you once like flowers dotting land
that blush in bloom of love in fusion grand 

I loved you once, but once a lifetime fills
My life without you is devoid of thrills
I loved you once and earth was paradise
My sheer delight in love defied disguise

I loved you once; I love you for all time
You’ll never taste a love as sweet as mine
I loved you once, and once lives on in me
For you that once is part of history

Eileen Manassian

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2016

LILACS' IMMORTAL BEAUTY

 Somehow   I always know when Spring will come 
By the fragrance of lilacs in the sun ;
Their trembling buds awake beside my fench 
And  bear sweet of  blossoms, yet I must wait 
Until the daylight comes around to warm 
Each perfumed spray. Not one frostbite must harm 
These eternal florae     of bridal white 
And rosy pink immortal in  delight 

The diamond leaves  are unfurling now 
To  hang delicately  on April twigs ,
And pearly mist that glides on wind's showers 
Till choirs of red  jays, robins start to coo 
One lustrous melody to worship morn 
A view of  forever    I'll also see 
This holy radiance  spring's lilac tree .



3/2/2017
Form-I  (Immortal Theme)
Contest of Broken Wing

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2017

Muse On The Loose

Where did she go...she left me in a spin,
     with words fragmented...where do I begin?
She took my thoughts held tight within her arms,
     and now I fear I'm left without her charms.

My missing thoughts and words in pieces lay;
     without a plan, they'll stay in disarray.
Where did she go, that artist of my soul;
     without her lead, no thoughts, no words, no goal.

My muse is on the loose, oh help me, please.
     She's gone for good...or is this just a tease?
My muse is on the loose, what happens now...
     I'm crushed, forsaken...this I can't allow.

I looked into the den where books are kept;
     way high up on the shelves, and then I crept
down cellar stairs among the antiques there,
     then up again, climbed second story stair.

I looked in every corner, neath the bed;
     no sign of her, but then I soon was led
up to the attic with great window view...
     entranced, she sat, and that is when I knew.

My muse was on the loose to find new scenes,
     and now beside her, inspiration streams.
The vision of the mountains, valleys, sky... 
     so beautiful it made me gasp and sigh.

Together we sat weaving thoughts and words,
     while hearing the sweet lullaby of birds.
I learned a poet's muse must be set free
     sometimes to find new views successfully.


Sandra M. Haight

~2nd Place~
Premiere Contest: Muse On The Loose
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 09/12/2016

Iambic Pentameter in Couplets

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016

Forgotten Soul

Forgotten Soul


I turn my head, and there she is once more
In her disheveled, worn and tattered dress,
One pew behind me near the exit door
She sits head bowed…an image of distress.

Two weeks now on a Sunday she is there…
The same pew in the church, the same old clothes.
She shows forlornness that makes me aware
Her life is sadly filled with countless woes.

This time, she lifts her head and looks at me,
As tears swell in her eyes and down her cheek.
My heart is broken by the hurt I see
Within her wanting eyes so dark and meek.

I gaze into her face and see her fears
Yet slightest twinkle in her sullen eyes…
With tiny smile, she wipes her falling tears
Away, but still, I hear the painful cries

That echo from her heart so silently
Of weakened body, anguished mind and soul…
I wonder what in life could possibly
Have caused her to now suffer such a toll.

And I surmise that homeless she must be,
But still some faith has brought her to this spot
Where healing strength from God might possibly
Renew her spirit when her life cannot.

The mass soon ends, and I arise and turn,
So now in front of her, I sadly stand…
She grasps my hand and says, “God Bless, you earn
His blessings for a heart that understands."


Sandra M. Haight

~2nd Place~
Contest: First Place Only - Old Poems
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 06/18/2016

~1st Place~
Contest: Highest View
Sponsor: Casarah Nance
Judged: 08/30/2015

~1st Place~
Contest: Structured Forms – Iambic Verse
Sketch a Fictitious Character
Sponsor: Giorgio A.V.

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2014

Around the Corner

As I walk downtown I see an alley 
Where a black cat sat staring up at me,
The sound of her purring was so soothing 
Lulled and hypnotized me how could that be.

With its green eyes lightning up the darkness 
I saw a sign was hanging that said Tea,
It seemed to be just around the corner
In an alley that led down to the sea.

I walk and the black cat seems to follow 
Awareness of her presence filled the air,
In a flash we turned around the corner 
Where stood an old stone building with one stair.

I looked to find the feline now missing,
Then climbed the step and gently pushed the door,
Cobwebs hung from rafters on the ceiling,
The wind made dust balls race across the floor.

I noticed tea of all sorts lined each wall,
The smells of herbs and spices filled my nose.
Sitting in a corner sat a woman,
Glaring at me sniffing a thorny rose.

Her eyes an emerald green that sparkled 
Her hair a shiny black darker then night,
By her stood a broom with crooked handle 
My senses told me something was not right.

I turned and ran while saying I’m sorry,
It seems I’m lost forgive me and good day,
Hearing horrid screeches I am shaking
Running around the corner in late May.

Soaked with sweat I run out to the main street 
People wonder why I’m carrying on,
As I shout loud, don’t go down this alley
I turn and notice that it now is gone.


Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.17.2014
For Francine Roberts Contest 
Around the Corner 
2nd

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

Love Gently Rocked

We sit, relaxed, at closing of the day,
you turn, a record on to softly play,
then place, fresh logs making our fire enhance,
and gently bow asking me for this dance.

The song, we’ve loved since we were very young,
so often danced with, and so often sung.
You sing, so sweetly in my longing ear,
and with, strong arms drawing me oh so near.

I place, my head upon your shoulder,
you spin, us around our humble room,
we laugh, just as when we were younger,
you stop, to kiss me; then we resume.

Such special times like this I feel my heart,
could never last if we should ever part.
Then shed, a tear by thoughts of losing you,
cause you’re, my one and only love so true.

Music stops; we stay together,
in loves embrace, we melt as one.
With fireplace, still gently burning,
our fire has only, just begun.



Per line:
Verses one two and four have ten syllables 
verse three has nine syllables 
Verse five has eight syllables 

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
12.12.2014
Contest: Rock me Rhythm Poems
Sponsor: Sheri Fresonke Harper

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

My Father Was

My Father Was...
He Made the Stars Hush


A simple man was he, one child of ten
who lived and worked the farm with family.
But stardust fell on him…time and again
he hid away to read his books to see

what life could offer him and he'd give back,
if he would leave the farm to chase his star
with talents, that would keep his dreams on track.
And so he left to raise his future’s bar.

Concerned for family for what he’d done;
one son of three now gone, and only two
remained to work the land beneath the sun.
But still, he followed stardust trails anew.

No school beyond eighth grade, he still pursued
production of the tube-based radio,
in nineteen-thirty, when its parts were crude
yet intricate…and he became a pro.

The stardust led him to a higher plane
whereby in time he owned a factory;
employed so many workers who would gain
good living in a time of poverty.

Oh, Dad, you hushed the stars…you did not fail.
With inner strength, you followed their bright glow,
to choose this path, that led you to prevail
and help so many people live and grow.

This gift of courage you have offered me
to follow and make use of dreams to share;
to let our stardust paths lead on to free
the will to seek the best on our life’s stair.


Sandra M. Haight

~1st Place~
Contest: Favorite Rhyming Poem Ever
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 02/28/2018

~1st Place~
Contest: Tell Us About Your Dad
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Judged:01/05/2016

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015