Best It. Poems
It hovers here, a moon opaque,
obscuring mountain trails I take.
No other living things appear.
A moon opaque. . . It hovers here.
I follow on along a ledge;
below a swirling river’s edge.
In front of me, the canyon’s yawn.
Along a ledge, I follow on.
I see no hue when fog congeals.
Oh, doom of one who no more feels!
The moon has fled, as so have you.
When fog congeals, I see no hue.
Now all is dim; it matters not.
My dear one’s heart I have not got.
No use in living without him.
It matters not. Now all is dim.
At peace I’ll be if I should fall
to murky water from this wall.
Oh, yawning canyon, swallow me.
If I should fall, at peace I’ll be.
To appreciate our planet,
begin with its snowcapped mountains:
where sunbeams morph crystals of ice
into gems of glistening light.
See pink clouds hover in the skies,
afloat on a vista of blue:
and a setting sun smear scarlet,
onto puffs of marshmallow white.
And jungles, at its equator:
create a sash of vibrant greens;
while burnt sands ripple Earth's deserts,
with shifting dunes of tans and creams.
Watch Earth's leafy forests change from
deciduous to evergreen:
and tundra, pitted with blue lakes,
fade to stretches of virgin snow.
And volcanoes erupt in flames
spewing plumes of ebony smoke:
as lava bleeds from gaping wounds,
while giving birth to molten Earth.
See cobalt and aquamarine
waves, crested with white foamy froth:
and two tilted poles, capped in ice,
sparkle, like crystalline jewels.
View it from afar, as it twirls
within the vacuum of space:
like a phantasmagorical
cerulean marble: called Earth.
Soft autumn rain ...
cascading over brightly colored cherry blossoms,
releasing a sweet scent of aromatic aphrodisiac
A fragrance of springtime love blowing in the gentle autumn wind
Our two hearts made a vow that day
We promised to fall in love anew
each day all over again
Fall madly in love a thousand times
every twenty-four hour spin
As the light, misty rain came down,
it meet our joyous laughter rising up to the clouds
Two lovebirds being purified,
two souls now joined together
as husband and wife
It rained gently that beautiful day
The maple and evergreen trees
greeted us with a mélange of bright promise,
of an ever evolving love that would last a lifetime
We beheld the colors of change all around us,
holding hands as our lives were changing as well
Upon the lifting of her white veil,
our eyes kissed and our lips looked
for no more words than two
I do
After a pregnant pause, we added another ...
I love you
Then we ran outside,
and frolicked like two little children
Me tugging at her beautiful, African zakiya dress,
she tossing aside my African kente vest
And when we pressed our cheeks together,
the soft autumn rain began to fall ... and we too were falling
more in love
I remember so well,
how it rained that day
How gently the autumn rain fell
It is quiet tonight.
The only sound is coming from
the soft murmur of the television set.
I don't know why I don't just put it on mute.
I don't want to hear what they have to say,
but I guess it is better than the sound
of silence which is deafening.
It hurts my ears, it hurts my heart.
Yesterday I was happy, but that was before,
before I stepped into the dark abyss.
I think I may have been pulled in
by the apathy of death.
Death has such long arms.
I won't ask why, I know everyone must die.
But you left on a happy day, a day we were
making plans, and I had hope,
hope that we still had time,
time to share those plans.
You made me laugh until I cried that day,
and then death swooped in
and took it all away.
It is so quiet tonight.
© Connie Marcum Wong
8-27-16
August 10, 2016 Poem of the Day
May be sung to the tune of It Came Upon the Midnight Clear
It came upon a prophecy
in ancient days foretold
that to the earth would come a child
fulfilling words of old.
For all the earth to be redeemed
this gift of God's great love:
a Savior, which is Christ the Lord
came down from heaven above.
As Joseph came from David's line
to Bethlehem went he,
and with him Mary, great with child,
in heeding Caesar's decree.
And so the Lord was born that night
in lowly cattle stall:
in him was life, and his bright star
would be the light of all.
The prophet Micah's words fulfilled
of which the faithful sing:
"O, Bethlehem, though small are you
from you shall come a king."
The angels joined to sing Noel
announcing God's own Son;
with shepherds, Magi bowing to
the long awaited one.
In ancient days this prophecy
Isaiah did foretell,
The virgin shall conceive a son,
His name: Immanuel.
"To us a child is born this day,
to us a son is giv'n" -
He reigns on David's throne on earth,
and God's right hand in heav'n.
Come walk with me,
for the path cares not,
the age of your feet.
Look at the butterflies on petals,
their silence does not care,
the language you speak.
Listen to the orchestra of birds,
they sing with sincerity,
care not if you follow God.
See how the trees stand so tall,
their mature branches care not,
about your wallet's wealth.
Feel tiny raindrops kiss your face,
their refreshing mercy cares not,
for the vibrant colour of your skin.
Let's bathe in calm waves,
for their ripples care not,
if you are a boy or a girl.
Relax in the glory of the sun,
it's warm rays care not,
if you are blind, deaf or mute.
Drink from cool spring waters,
for its juices care not,
who's mouth hydrates from it.
Here, hold my pen,
for the ink will never judge,
how you express your scars.
In darkness, let us lay together,
to gaze at an abundance of stars,
they care not, how you spell your name.
They shine for us all,
regardless of the moon.
Sunday Musings
Silent One
8 November 2020
This is an example for my current contest, 'There is a star with my name on it.'
I took a unique angle to it. I do not expect poems, similar to this one.
It is now springtime in heaven
Sky is so blue...sun shining so bright
Beautiful flowers are everywhere
Angels are dancing...as the harps play
Here on earth...we scamper around
Sky is so blue...sun shining so bright
Beautiful flowers are everywhere
We are missing the angels in heaven
Angels are dancing...as the harps play
They await the day...as we do also
As once again we will all be together
Our mothers and us...in heaven above
Dedicated to: Our Mothers in Heaven
and her children who will be missing her
this weekend on Mother's Day
To all of you who still have your mother here
on earth with you make sure she knows how
much you love her.
Bha e brèagha an-de
(It was Beautiful Yesterday)
There was a sailing vessel
With many a sail proudly lapping in the wind
A flag of the Celtic honor, in ruin an rented
As all the sailors sing
Of my love for you
From long ago
Before death became our friend
Oh would I be sailing from stormy seas to the Scottish glens
To lay some flowers at your side
Your beauty is now far under
My love ill wait for all eternity
For loves resurrection’s stormy thunder
Our bodies may be under stone
Our memories long lost in tales and fable
Let no man ever lay any such claim
Our love was not the gift of briny seaworthy fame
We be only stones, in a meadow blue
When you come upon our fate
Tiss with this verse, I state my case
The life that escaped our sadly date
Love though was true as sky
For long ago, she bid adieu
Her sadness at my drowning departure
As I her lover was told to be
Buried deep and under sea
Both sadness and the tossing waves
Took the life out of her and me
So when you look at fading stones
Remember the love that used to be
When Thor struck his hammer
upon the flat ground on Earth
it was the pieces withstood the blow we named rock,
constructs we came to know as the mountains.
Even before that time
I crossed my fingers
wished I'd one day experience
...you.
I knew you before heavenly purity grew wings
before angels blessed hearts
invoking what we now know as love for our brethren .
I held you in the sphere of my understanding
as the lover I'd never meet but always carry
in the most cherished of my thoughts.
When Zeus handed me his quill and inkwell I knew
I would only use his gift for my inspired notes to you.
Though I was not blessed a poets words
like Robert Browning
he who took Elizabeth Barrett into his heart from the first time he read her
so I did with you.
Only laid blood on parchment
to declare the love you inspired in me.
Like a schoolboy's first kiss
was the day my eyes embraced the body of your work.
Before the first pine broke the ground, the first lark sang,
the first orchards rare enchanted the rainforests.
Before the first chameleon blended
into the multicoloured break of dawn.
Before infinite rows of wheat invitingly waved from the fields to greet Hera.
Before liquid rose to separate into
creeks, swamps, rivers, lakes with fish of all kinds
wasn't it me who rode the first seahorse just to make you smile.
Anything, all...
possible
with the swirl of a letter
the turn of a word.
I found an immense love tracking the shores of your fine poetry
always a chill that ran up my back.
No one.
No one!
Only you.
Your fine talent,
gifted,
honed
perfected...flaws and all...
moulds
sculpts,
breathes life into ordinary words,
creates poetry
owns me.
September 26 2016 MY
It was in September that Poetry first came to me -
a time when summer’s embers, for me had not yet caught fire
until, that is, Poetry walked casually toward me
wearing bell bottoms and a young man’s angel face.
Visited by such exquisite grace, I felt the spark of sweet desire’s flame.
Our kisses in the night made my spirit sing; the flame leapt higher.
Yes, a night to remember is what my angel boy gifted me,
and though the fall was near, I was in the springtime of my youth.
The years have come and gone gone gone
Memories of my old flames are cinders now, softly glowing In my mind.
They cannot be revived to brightly glow again; they are the past.
After Poetry walked in all those years ago,
a few decades passed. One day I felt the urge to put pen to paper.
Recalling nostalgically the fire that once had so consumed me,
tender words flowed from me; passion was reborn!
Recreating fantasy, I became the lady who danced the unicorn,
who lived, and who still lives romance, again and again and again,
for the passion now is in my pen!
It was in September that Poetry first came to me.
I just didn’t know it then.
In love with poetry, spellbound am I-
by force, that takes me to the land of words.
Beyond control, this power has its way
that leads me to present my heart and soul.
This overwhelming power captures me;
like an addiction, I consume fine words
for them to shape the thoughts within my mind;
create great imagery that can be read.
Most poets know this overwhelming pain
of finding special words to paint a theme;
this search for me becomes a magic hunt
of hide and seek to capture them like prey.
Consuming is this poet’s gift of pen;
the task can be a tiresome marathon
of hours or days, and yet, if lucky can
flow out in minutes on the first clean page.
This love of writing poetry runs deep;
an inner urge that cannot be dispelled;
as captor, captive both, my inner goal-
to find some balance in completed works.
Oh! how love has bloomed—
fantasies like wild flowers plucked
a collection of candlelight craves and desires
fill a wistful star-maiden’s basket;
a bouquet of white asters from Orion’s garden
grown in a fiery field of light against night
gathered in a hazy ribbon
and held in the bosom heat
of this Autumn bloom’s passion
tender is the kiss blown from star-dusted lips
a need to gain goodwill in the "om" of zodiacal light
incandescence in full blow from a single breath;
fireflies in a fervor find favor
with the midnight-scene-stealer; Selene
of locks of hair fair and skin lustrous bare
fertile with romantic flair—
as this swooning flesh-and-blood-angel
closes her eyes and seeds her dream
with the sheer intimacy and cosmic love-play
of wishes wooed
amid astral petal-points pulsing with promise
rosy sparks burn in a slow-dance dip..
one slips through the water-colored layers connecting
Sun of bright and Moon of dark in the thrill of twilight
where hues suspend in sensual rendezvous until
merge of his-and-her-skies diverge until the next dawn -
there! up there..
falls a star with my name on it
and here..
laid into your wished-for-hands;
a stargazer’s galaxy of heartbeats
with y o u r name on it -
as this dreamy red aster smiles falling like a star
for y o u
Wettened by the mornings dew
Closely spaced where rows of roses grew
Footprints stained the cobblestone
Where my love and I had walked, alone
Sweet light's tryst with blowy mist
The fog and the dawn waltzed as we kissed
Fertile bliss of rosebud lips
Strands of sunlight round my fingertips
If it was not for words
there'd be no poetry.
Can a veiled muse survive,
unable to release
poems that make us thrive?
If it was not for words.
Can we cope being mute
when hearts have to suppress
reasons behind sorrows,
teardrops cannot express.
If it was not for words.
There would be no lyrics,
only background soundtracks.
No songs to soothe our souls
or help tired minds relax.
If it was not for words.
How will eyes view nature
when art fails to describe
moon, blooms, angst or romance?
Nothings left to inscribe.
To take each day as it comes
To gratefully praise The One
Joyfully face the new dawn’s grace,
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
To guard my thought as it roams
On anything or anyone
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
To be careful with my words
To use the value of my hands
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
To do everything I can
And bring a smile to not just one
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
To celebrate other’s gain
Not consciously cause another's pain
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
Not all the time comes the sun
For sorrow comes to everyone
And that I must understand.
To take each day as it comes
And know that I’m but a man
I will be glad, life’s not that bad
And do my part in God’s plan.
*A resolution during a time of disappointment.
Kim Patrice Nunez
04 August 2015
image credit: Edwin Hofert