Best Latticework Poems
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the bridge isn't stone.
not iron latticework humming with trains.
not even that splintered wood plank
across the creek just beyond my childhood home.
It's quieter~
a slant of afternoon sun catching dust motes
in the attic of my mind.
I climb the stairs~
why did I say that?
why didn't I go?
if only...
each step groans with the weight of *what if*~
the handrail feels slick with polished regret.
halfway across, I pause.
below, the river churns with versions of myself:
the one who stayed,
the one who left too soon,
the one clutching certainty like a fraying rope.
the far shore gleams clear, impossibly calm.
I know what waits there~
wisdom, smooth as river stone.
but the bridge only goes one way.
I can't carry today's shoes back to yesterday's mud.
can't shout warnings through the thickening fog
of memory.
so I stand, breathing the damp air
of almost-understanding.
I watch the current swirl the past into patterns
that almost make sense.
Almost.
the bridge remains aching and empty
leading only to the place where I finally see
the shape of the hole my choices left behind.
Let the paper be a canvas and the pen, a brush
The words fill the mind like a young girl’s blush
Every color on the palette of the imagination
Becomes a vibrant idea of luscious creation
Open a door of stained glass with swans of white
Made more brilliant by the glowing sunlight
Surrounded by a pool of sapphire blue
Water lilies afloat with teardrops of dew
Beyond the door a walled brick terrace of burgundy red
With a gray flagstone floor in which to tread
Terra cotta pots at the edges with mixed colored flowers
Above a dogwood in blooms like a canopy towers
Wide steps lead to a large flowing fountain
Three flowing tiers sparkle like a crystalline mountain
It towers within a large oval pool
A goldfish swimming like a small orange jewel
Beyond the fountain, a cobblestone path
Followed by a fence of latticework lath
An open field on the other side of the fence
Beyond the field is a forest, dark and dense
Two Belgian horses graze on clover patches of red
Near a large gray stone two-story shed
Nearby a pond of sparkling blue
Reflecting the clouds of a dusky pink hue
The blue sky fades into pink streaks of sunset
Turning the forest trees to a darker silhouette
And the grass to bright emerald green
All to create a tranquil pastoral scene
The words fill the mind like young girl’s blush
With the paper as a canvas and the pen, a brush.
Tea Party
Bright early morning
Courtyard opens to the clear blue unclouded sky
Mourning dove with their cheerful cooing
Lush, crisp, green, grassy, lawn,
Garden flourishes with yellow daffodils, pink lilies, and budding pink roses
Latticework lavish entanglement of sweet fragrant jasmine
My angelic little girl sits on the settee in the pavilion
full of pillows and a blue blanket in case it gets cold
wearing my long string pearls with her ruffle white lace dress
Mama, papa, and baby teddy bears, sit all around her
A tea party she entertains serving tea, cake, and cookies
Everyone invited
With tenderness, giving a drink of tea to her favorite teddy May
I observe my little girl sitting on the settee in the pavilion
A beholding sight
2/4/2015
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I yearn for when my troubles were as frost flowers; when the intermittent wresting
of my inner strings was natural , a part of growing up, and when, from tender stem ,
there emerged feelings of confliction that whirled into a strange collage-puberty's
design. But whether my ordeals then were unique, like the latticework of
snowflakes, or as simple as a raindrop on my pane, each one, wing footed,
eventually melted from my mind.
Later came the common plagues: marital discord, effects of growing old and other
irritations, weeds I plucked and dandelion fluff I blew away. These I could abide.
But other winters passing now have brought trials which are as a thorny web.
In unexpected times of drought, from seemingly nowhere. . . they sprout. Star
Thistles (over which I've no control) come time and time again to prick my soul.
Unlike the fleeting flowers of frondescent youth (whose memory retains for me some
beauty), these thistles of infliction are both ugly and unyielding. Surrounding me are
melancholy notes, and though the melody is rallentando, I think this dirge may
never have an end.
For Catie Lindsey's "Dark Prose" Contest
Beauty of Paris rising high
Such massive latticework is seen
At night a golden color's view
Three levels given public's try
Restaurants on levels are keen
This tower's sight could be for you
Nature's Spring palette and sweet nectar
of bright comfort bathing in the brilliant sunshine. Quote _ by Poet
A vision is the crimson queen rose
newly sprung its unique velvet feel
rosebuds unfold full of scallop trim
green leaflets breathless and infectious
in the gentle balmy breeze bloom shows
long green waxy stem full of prickly
thorns pose vibrant amongst the flowers
Garden trimmings with tiger lilies,
budding pink roses ,tall sunflowers,
golden yellow and white daffodils.
Latticework lavish entanglement
of sweet fragrant jasmine a treasure.
3/13/2021
Poetry Contest: Flower or Flowers in Imagism Form
Sponsored By: Constance La France
Now as I look up I catch myself, i revert my attention and I raise that man out the gutter, Oh he loves this, kinda feels familar, feels solid, Definately noticed before I left what my respect What? Sir i always give it first, try that man test him hard in a devils hell, he past them, threw me a pass, Miranda's, be my destination, gradual i give him my back, stab that dagger I still take a hit, Matters much, becuz everyman deserves his shot, 1700 hrs at the distance of latticework, branch breaker devastating on a branch dividian, swift well strong too, oh well i be a man eating ninjas the powers here area mysteries, christened chisels chosen for chips that fly chopped suey, copycat that cc cc, density left handed pulled the lever and said sTori's in better melodies,
and story's left unsaid said spoke Mandy's please Im pissing offf the managment, Chrissy damn well slip into a ****ing a man speaking serious now, Champs too, and who the **** is she? trying chances in a chandas challenge, falling behind well u silent, thinking i could never say more till i say less, as I pledge my blood on theses streets forever, I cant seem simpleminded in your head im a new hate, im raw thug talk no baby im beating demons better careflight these pussies, and there right b4 me, is the main presentation. I switch my flow and i spoke in Satin, condolences there I see the hurt in my family eyes, Dealt a challengen man, felt the weight of the actual burden is very heavy,
Very scary if u never ignored lasers dots, On the mic creating Jaxwax my product recomends to refuse a haters offer
A new landscape presents itself upon waking.
Places that were dreams drift outward.
Past becomes present; stars earth; flight, a grounded stride.
I might assess these thoughts as if I have a choice -
as if I might climb back into slumber; reestablish a cloud,
reshape a fog already escaping.
Thoughts of coffee with cream creep in,
old latticework mends itself even as I try to stop it.
"Reality, it's not for me, and it makes me laugh." Ha.
FORGET IT. May as well shower and get on with it.
Yet along the drive, my mind keeps wandering...
Will I ever catch that dream again?
The day passes, same routine unhurried
While this body spirals of old age snail.
Energy movements and fade unworried
Point disembarkation, a blithe inhale.
Living forever at one time did grace.
Life driven dares in adolescent youth
Yielded sound as well as negative truth.
Learning by challenge mistakes we did face.
Surround by garden trim, tall sunflowers
Budding, breathless, and infectious spirit.
Climbing rose latticework, I rest near it.
Eternal sunlight reave through lonely hours.
1/19/2025
The Storm
Frank Halliwell
The sultry day was near its end,
The cloying heat distressed.
The cool of evening getting near,
But still the air oppressed.
A mounting shadow from the west
Conceals the distant hills.
No breath of air disturbs the leaves,
The atmosphere is still.
The thunderhead obscures the light,
-A tower in the sky.
It roils and boils up high above,
'Tis plain a storm is nigh.
Then suddenly a burst of wind-
A breath of frigid air,
From deep within the giant cloud
The signal to beware!
A sudden flash, a crash of sound
Thor's hammer fills the night
The flares of lightning make the sky
A latticework of light.
Then lashing rain borne by the wind
That swirls the compass round.
The loud drum roll of thunder that
Now fills the world with sound.
Until at last it moves away,
Still grumbling as it fades.
The lights still flash within the cloud,
And distant cannonades.
But all the world has been reborn,
The air smells fresh at last.
The garden now can grow anew,
Now that the storm has passed.
o0o
FATHER
His sinewy hands as strong as lion’s
Hold close wobbly me like trellises
Wet sun shone through latticework mangled by harsh wind
In the stormy night we were soaked
Rain came down like maggots
I slept under his wakeful eyes.
Juice trickled from his tissues
My fingers awoke in contentment
To suck his rocky skin with my sisters
We felt like fireside cats.
He died fifty years old.
Emeralds, Polished Jade, LENORE’S GREEN Eyes
GREEN as the flavor of Mint
Sweet, Leafy GREEN: Lettuce
It reminds Me
Defines Me
Exciting to Eye
See GREEN in the Rainbow
Among the many Hues
In Nature
GREEN Color
Spreading across the Forest Floor
Climbing the Latticework by my Door
The Mountains’ “ Evergreens “
Inspired by the Title and Format of Laurie Ginn’s POEM “ R E D “
DEDICATED to L A U R I E G I N N
Dear Francine, Hope this finds YOU and YOURS Healthy and High in the Spirit.
"This Time (this time only) I used a previously written POEM"
In the darkness of night,
I reach out my hand bliindly to touch your skin,
and find the soft, soothing, saving grace,
that soothes me.
I trace my fingers over your shoulder and down your arm,
to find your hand,
and hold on tightly.
You are the only one who can stop the nightmares,
You are the only one
who can chase away,
the demons in my sleep.
I can feel each tender finger
laced into mine;
the latticework of love,
and as it flows gently between us,
I close my eyes and know,
tonight I'll sleep safe.
Raindrops are not tear drops this should be fun Falling drops of rain are like a hamburger bun
Hope this does not hurt your brain reshaping your perception of the rain
Not to cause friction and shed no tears without cohesion drops would have no peers
Falling through the air like little magnets the whole sheet a latticework of dragnets
Do not be sad with little tail dragging behind when you stick out your tongue open your mind
Not for this conception’s paucity nor for the internal viscosity
but for the joy that is upon your tongue that's not a teardrop but a hamburger bun
Luminous lids lift, languidly unveiling vistas of vibrant verse, as lavish laughter lines lips that lure with lyricism.
Sultry syllables swirl, a sweet serenade that saturates the senses, summoning sonnets that soar on solar winds.
Gentle gestures glide, a gracious gamut of elegance, as each delicate digit dances, dripping with dignified demeanor.
Fiery fervor flashes, a fervent fusion of fascination, as fervid fingers fan the flames of fantasy and fiction.
Ravishing radiance reigns, a resplendent rainbow of ravishing beauty, as rosy rouge revives and rejuvenates the senses.
Lissome limbs undulate, a languid latticework of loveliness, as lithe lines limn the landscape of the lovely dame.
Velvety vowels vibrate, a vibrant vocalization of vitality, as vivacious voice whispers sweet nothings to the willing heart.
Dazzling diamonds dazzle, a diadem of dazzling delight, as delicate digits decorate the divine with diaphanous drapery.
Svelte silhouettes sway, a sinuous serpentine of seduction, as supple skin shimmers, shedding shimmering shadows.
Gossamer garments glide, a gauzy gamut of gorgeousness, as gilded gowns glimmer, glowing with golden light.
Lustrous locks cascade, a lavish landslide of loveliness, as luxuriant tresses tumble, tumbling tenderly to the ground.
Ethereal essence emanates, an exquisite efflorescence of elegance, as the lovely dame embodies the essence of the divine.