Best Lanham Poems

Leave you my tears?
I think you already own them . . .

They sparkle in dew on the grasses,
on your windows they cling to look in;
They see you with someone else laughing
And wonder if the joke is on them?
Days past they would have been with you,
Laughter's...

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You kiss my face and I turn to trace
the tracks you left on the ground;
where have you walked and with whom have you talked
in all of your traveling round?

You utter a sigh and I am wondering why
you just cannot slow down and stay;
capricious you are...

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creamy cheesecake inches deep  
red strawberry crowned,
mounds of whipped chocolate fluff  
cresting almond cake,  
maple pecan pie
sticky crunch-
yum!

Copyright, October 27, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson...

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On days of childhood past
and long faded into memory,
sisters played beneath a smiling sun
in shadowed rooms of bending willows.
Dainty handkerchiefs swaddled
our Rose of Sharon infants
to keep the newborns warm;
honeysuckle spread sweet fragrance
scenting the summer playhouse
while birds trilled lullabies of joy.
Clover chains hung as garlands
to decorate...

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Forest fairies changing colors,
autumn's patchwork pattern weaving
in the foggy morning stillness
before winter's barren grieving,
up the river on the damp air,
up hollows through the shadowed vales
sounds the mournful, sobbing whistle:
once more memory rides the rails.

Childhood song for railroad watchers -
a tinge of hobo in my veins,
longing...

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Like milk from blue mountains' swollen breasts, the fog
Intertwines with pungent campfire smoke, a blue mist
Frescoing my quiet river valley's primeval lap.
Twilight tiptoes, surreptitiously, spying on secluded tryst;
Interlaced, grape and honeysuckle canopy overhead,
Noddng blossoms dripping sweet fragrance,
Granting nectared kisses my lips cannot resist.

The blue moon...

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I feel a butterfly inside;
its wings are cramped within my breast.
The weight of flesh, o dull cocoon,
prohibits my free flight. At best
I only soar inside; my wings--
gossamer, light, remain untried.
I wait...I wait...until the day
the barred' cage is flung aside
and airy wings lift toward the skies.

I...

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Apples ripen pink, hotly blushing,
though the ardent yellow sun grows faint;
blackbirds sucking soft honeyed sweetness.
like babies at breast, show no restraint.

Mellow ripeness splays rich-toned color;
the trees raise scarlet armed applause.
Red-brown and gray, small creatures hurry
stowing provisions for winter's pause.

Copyright, September 1, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson...

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My neck crooked backward,
I stand between the stacks
feeling the weight of centuries, 
the distilled wisdom of minds
who graced the earth with golden words,
words that pace the pages -
vellum, parchment, fine and common papers;
words, cordoned in lines, confined,
yet powerful tools to set one free, 
a roamer...

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Constantly she toils 
in the darkness of the heaving sea
gathering treasures into her aprons deep;
twice a day she knocks, panting,
at the shoreline’s wide stretching door,
and scatters her abundant gifts
for vagabonds like me to reap.

Copyright, October 24, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson...

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The evening sun reclines, dips
her trailing skirts into the fire;
she lounges on the edge of dusk,
her sultry lips, crimson desire.

With violet tints, her painted eyes,
brazen behind a blushing cloud,
stare at every lake and pond
to view the beauty she's endowed.

We sigh to see her slip beyond
the...

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Tossed upon blank beaches
like men without souls,
shell fragments littering the sand.
Each broken shell once could sing
lyrics lilting of glories past,
tales spun in Dresden colors,
soft, shimmering memories - 
blissful days beneath shining seas.

In broken men who walk the earth,
vignettes I view . . .
shattered beauty every...

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She climbed the liquid staircase
just to gaze at gleaming stars;
all she wanted was a wee one
to light up her fair boudoir.

A thousand times she spied them
flash across the midnight sky;
she strained so high to catch one,
but the mermaid could not fly.

Exhausted with hard striving,
she lay...

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Footsteps on stairs,
little feet pounding, running,
child faces peeking round the kitchen door,
expectancy alive, dancing in their eyes.
They know that love is always here
waiting just for them.     

Each one thinks he is favorite;
in his or her own way, it is true.
Each is...

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dawn
balmy, breezy
shining, shimmering, laughing
birds, flowers, color, fragrance
dimming, calming, falling
sleepy, restful
twilight

Copyright, November 7, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson...

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