Best Lauds Poems
As heavy frost settles 'pon the brown hill
And floats down to the level, thoughts are stilled
Words rise up to nettle but spirits thrill
Winter's north breeze meddles_ spring's buds to kill
Japanese Magnolia's buds wait until
spring's warm rains flood the earth; then sap buds fill.
Winter's pause, earth lauds rebirth, and birds' shrill
Vexing cold squads stay away and be still
At spring's rebirth be awed, winter's cold distill
Death where is resurrection's applaud, still
Waiting for spring's hallowed birth, rapture's real
Transformation follows, one's fate sealed
Not part of the poem:
There is a powerful difference in having to say something
and having something to say!!
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Contest: Interlocking Rhyme
Written: January 19,2015
Finis'
Categories:
lauds, life,
Form:
Rhyme
How deadly this sweet drink of praise,
that sipped, decays the thing it lauds.
A sly deceiver, 'tis, oh yes,
this chronic craving for applause.
A first place prize, the kiss of death,
to art original and free.
But now is surely lost I fear,
in muddy mires of mimicry.
Categories:
lauds, art, poetry,
Form:
Quatrain
Mother Nature, Athena and Mother Earth
Apply wisdom and beauty to life
they're icons whose bounty has infinite worth
offering sustenance throughout strife
Mother Mary grants us mercy and love
Our flag; long may she wave
Venus, the love god, shines above
Amazon women; so strong and brave
Accolades for such women never cease
Their value cannot be denied
Noble women of love, courage and peace
who we admire and in whom we confide
But women who aren't symbols, myths or gods
are never so grandly exalted
they may have value no one ever lauds
But for our original sin are faulted
This tribute is to women, here on earth
Thank you for your guidance and love
And for providing the gift of birth
Categories:
lauds, appreciation, women,
Form:
Ode
Trust, like a pitiless whore-master, grins
as between the sheets and at my breasts, he suckles.
Though Cupid lauds' the joy, I feel only stings.
The manic moon shivers to shriek-like violins
as trusting seed is split and son-less my knees buckle
mother-less street urchin blanched, impatient, sin.
In sympathy the sun pales night's mood swings
seeking to caress and hold with a fractured chuckle
love's exhausted, and misspent, ripened lingerings
To the dying day and I, cry of might-have-beens
ivory white my ice hands, my bleeding knuckles
Trust like a pitiless whore-master grins
Though Cupid lauds' the joy, I feel only stings.
Categories:
lauds, lost love,
Form:
Villanelle
Guardian angel of sky’s door
I’m waiting for a call
My heart lies against a wall
A secret that I will tell no more
Avoid my tear in the sand
May cause a ocean from my crying
Will tell me to live with no dying
But in my feet I will not stand
Guardian, demons don´t talk
Send an angel to regret living
To rescue that life´s singing
I´m not alone to stand and walk
Forever in life I will be
Repeating the sound after me
Jogging in the sand of time
Flying alone across the sky
Guardian angel who cries on the walls
I grow live waiting a call
Forever is a long time to stare
Demons don´t need to be aware
Don´t cry in the clouds
Your crying may flood an ocean
In the heart that lauds
Long time for devotion
Guardian angel, the horses are black
They live free in my fantasy
Showing the way in my destiny
Demons are never back
So forever in life I will be
Repeating the sound after me
Jogging in the sand of time
Flying alone across the sky
Guardian angel who cries on the walls
Flying back to sky who cares
Watching how the rain falls
Demons cry in the night that scares
Categories:
lauds, epicheart, sound, angel, angel,
Form:
Rhyme
courtesy of management in general
and particularly Jackie Geiger
assistant property agent.
One benefit living social
at Highland Manor Apartments
until decrepit and bent...
constitutes qualifying for reimbursement
direct deposited into checking
as chump change event,
hence one generic grateful gent
feels self satisfied as Clark Kent.
After broken wing and prayer
granted courtesy The Flying Tigers
at long last located valuable information
issued December of each year
surprisingly enough exactly where
social security (2021) 1099 form
remained untouched, I swear,
yet earlier yesterday April 5th, 2022
at 1500 hours though very near,
and finally located necessary documentation
(think rental rebate) here
with unexpected discovery
birthed following poem aware
many if not all avid readers
will not care, nor give rat's a$$
regarding humdrum minor dilemma
involving one bonafide
*****sapiens merely
bruising himself – common Joe
garden variety generic biomass,
nonetheless, he fetes, lauds, tauts...
rental rebate tantamount
approximating financial reimbursement
without being unduly crass.
Thus reasonable rhyme
yours truly doth aire
without stut... stut...
stuttering, yet no guarantee
wordsworth their weight
in gold will ring clear
more likely receive
frosty reception everywhere
across world wide web,
perhaps with unwelcome glare,
yet profuse apology
if man with wit - me,
(i.e. Whitman) didst unwittingly interfere
with unwanted distraction
courtesy bobbing square
pants donned sponge
soaking up precious time (yours)
foolish longfellow rushing in where
one capricorn long since wed
not nsync, but alone,
cuz angels fear to tread
"quod erat demonstrandum"
forgotten Latin accessed
at least once year
when yours truly crafts poetry
more familiarly recognized as Q.E.D.
(shares close pronunciation
with ska quid word)
ditch costs extra nay saying
horse sense according to Ned,
whoop sorry, I meant mister Ed.
Categories:
lauds, appreciation, april, blessing, celebration,
Form:
Rhyme
HEARTBEAT OF CHRISTMAS
Can you hear his heartbeat?
Lay your ear to his chest
His onesie wet with your tears
You wipe them with your hair
Do you hear salvation’s coo?
With eyes that sparkle when they look at you
With a smile that lights up the room
Profound words that created you
Do you answer when he cries?
Pick up your cross and follow him
Remember the childhood wounds
Blood sweat and tears that oozed
Do you kneel down?
With shepherds and kings
With an earthly mother and father
Honoring the king of kings
Open earth’s yellowing album
See the crimson velvet of Santa Claus
Fancy white fur hems, and a jolly laugh
But before you hear those jingle jolly bells
A humble man with a long white beard
Closes his eyes, kneels at a crib
Lauds the one who makes all things possible
11/29/2016
Categories:
lauds, christian, christmas,
Form:
Free verse
Letter chosen "V"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Virtuoso
Carnelian dawn reflects red sun rising,
Mirrors glow of vermillion flycatchers,
With scarlet plumage, so mesmerizing,
Dawn’s songbirds – virtuoso stature.
Flight song resounds through the still morning mists,
Woodland thickets embrace the day song,
Artists on wings with bright feathers flame kissed
Warble sweet aves on garnet birdsongs.
Vigil for daybreak in tones cinnabar
Matins’ maestros in morning’s sung prayers,
Amber strains from coquelicot popstars,
Lauds for the Daystar ring through newborn airs.
Cloaked in vermillion at evening's first light,
Songbirds wait to sing in red-orange delight.
Categories:
lauds, bird, morning, song, star,
Form:
Sonnet
Flowers have that novel effect on schism,
where the uniqueness of its design forms
compare that White Egret Orchid performs
like its namesake, chicken or the egg, ism
being afloat plume or the blooming grews.
Soggy-bottom boys and girls 'tis they want
of this bit of a ground-hugger-like haunt.
Sophistication hails for untamed shrews
attracts from up or a transferred potter,
with a metal device tool like a pick,
the gifted angular, pruning, technique,
lauds the fringed orchid, White Egret Flower.
Monkey Face Orchid, to Yulan Pink Birds,
venture advances, the future ... occurs.
Categories:
lauds, allusion, analogy, appreciation, beautiful,
Form:
Crown of Sonnets
This is not as such a written poem
This is more a heartfelt dedication
To those kind few who have taken time to place
Certain of my written poem's
Amongst there chosen favorite's
To those to whom I owe this debt of thanks
I do not have the breadth of knowledge
Opon which to express my untold gratitude
For if all I had merely just had to say
Was
Thank you,
Thanks
I beg your pardon if you do not bother
Another word of mine you read
If nothing more i have to offer
Rises above such praise and comment
As favorite placed
Because thank you and thanks
Doth not sum up nor convey
Your grace
You words illuminate like sunlight
Shining through Stain Glass Cathedral Windows
When all hope and faith is lost
And shadows cast
The final word is yours
That lauds me up
When life is pressing
The cavity abound my chest
And breath can not be bought
Your words propel
The gospel , according to
What you meant and did for me
So yours sincerely
Kind regards
You are also my Favorite 2
And probably countless others 2
Whom fate has placed in the path of you
Categories:
lauds, hope,
Form:
Free verse
Thence they come, these thoughts again
As I brood, on mind thus dimmed
Fraught with doubt, crossed by light
Naught but rout, mine sublime such night
Shall I muse on love or war
Fall on fuse or seek Paramour
Laugh or cower in shadows of mire
Caraf or bower or madness my sire...
First is love, that Venus sin venal
That gloves us, that makes great what might be menial
Ye Gods that strike us and make us wonder
What askance could discover, instead we blunder
Next is war, to which we hasten, alight
Vex't too far, we hurry, eyes red bright
For what do we stand, for what reason we fall
For lauds or bands, or glory for all
Last is madness, that indefinable mount
Fast it abandons, leaves a cur, a lout
Yet while in this life it hobbles, in-famy arraigns
In eternity recorded is all but fame
William* knew love, was a master unmatched
In his words our nature unmasked, unlatched
Lee* was a genius, in a cause infamous
The perfect warrior, strong-gentle-just
Poe* was a daemon, Pandora, of dark
Yet lauded after, today our 'Goth' art
Which embodiment was true, was pure?
Which could you most admire, follow, ENDURE?
Could you follow if combin'd in all
As Dumas* once quipped, one for all?
What human could be them, combine in power
Would he be tyrant, belov'd?-Sought?-cowered?
Was he Alexander, of whom knowledge bereft
Was he then Caesar, Cleo*-love, General, Epilept*?
I know not who embodied - genii* of three
Yet at some point existed this man, tri-breed
I know which of these I am, maybe
Yet which one are ye, God damned though may be
if needs must decree ye must be
choose from these distinct sep-equal* three.
* Notes
William - William Shakespeare
Lee - Robert E. Lee
Poe - Edgar Allan Poe
Dumas - Alexandre Dumas
Cleo - Cleopatra
Epilept - Epileptic
Genii - distinctive character or spirit, as of a nation,
period, or language (plural)
*Sep-equal - Separate but equal
Categories:
lauds, introspection, on writing and
Form:
Rhyme
Headlines of irony in life…
Human satire—cuts like a knife.
The unsinkable ship, that sinks.
Surrounded by peeps, yet alone.
Priests who ‘prey’—yet sins they atone.
Pastor fights alcohol, but drinks.
Tax czar who cheats on his taxes.
Animal fans—hunt to relax.
Abortion kills—with nods and winks.
Lifeguard fearing water—lauds land.
‘Football’—a game played with the hands.
Oedipus—breaks riddle and Sphinx.
Headlines of irony in life...
“Women”—they may now take a wife.
The steakhouse owned by a vegan.
Pedophile daycare directors.
Homeless real estate inspectors.
WAR—‘politics’ by other means.
Fighting drugs, while promoting booze.
Mutual consent—the new ruse.
Prolonged charity squelches teens.
Green tinted speckles on bluefish.
Hitler’s Grandfather was Jewish!
Men—affectionately called ‘queens.’
In life, every nook and cranny,
Holds the next ‘headline irony.’
Good, bad, or sad—it’s Uncanny!
June 2, 2018
Written for Connor Lotts' poetry contest entitled, "Hutinashro - My First Contest Poetry Contest"
Categories:
lauds, analogy, humor, hyperbole, irony,
Form:
Rhyme
Awakening Perpetually
by Odin Roark
Awakening perpetually knows well
Perfection’s tuning fork disquietude,
Its awareness that any off-key meandering
Can cloud over a caressing sunshine rising,
Sour a dawning’s gardenia fragrance.
One reaches skyward with morning’s extension,
The opening of shuddered windows,
Inviting breezes to find purpose
Among slumber’s expended air,
The body’s unwearied resilience.
About the room
Timeless ghosts bow heads and implore with stretched arms,
Aroused by their history’s carillon, matins and lauds,
Even as cobblestone passage below traffics today’s gluttonous appetite,
Fulfilling its locust-like consumption,
Unabated by cacophony’s garrulous conceit
Propelling a different consciousness
Self-destructing by tourismic mayhem.
But…
To step forward and lean on man’s balcony of hope,
Is to lift weary eyes above the clutter below
Onto rising light’s warm-colored horizon,
To give one’s tuning fork its earned reward,
The sense of harmony and melody
Being born of another day.
Such is the embrace of dawn’s meaning,
The anticipation of canvas to paint,
Verses to write,
Preludes to compose.
For lest we forget,
Awakening remains perpetual,
Whether for man, creature, seedling or flower.
It asks only to be honored.
Categories:
lauds, senses,
Form:
Free verse
Folks in rural Pennsylvania think that Punxsutawney Phil
is, by all means, that happy and friendly groundhog
that predicts the beginning of spring on a forest log;
he's very smart and looks friendly when he wags his tail.
If his prognistication is right everybody applauds,
and awaits the arrival of the harmonious season;
what if he refuses to comply...will there be lauds,
or at least, plenty of food on his plate not too lean?
It's the annual rite of wishful anticipation, almost an augural
pretense that the happy season will be at their doors to spread harmony,
but if Punxsutaweny Phil won't predict anything and wants to crawl
back into his warm den, there'll be a longer wait 'till he breaks his lethargy.
Copyright ( c ) 20015 by Andrew Crisci
Categories:
lauds, dog, spring,
Form:
Rhyme
Up on the Housetop
1. Up on the housetop reindeer pause,
Out jumps Good Old Santa Claus
Down through the chimney with lots of toys
All for the little good girls and boys
Ref: Ho, ho ho! Who wouldn't go? Ho, ho ho! Who wouldn't go?
Up on the housetop, click, click, click
Down through the chimney with good Saint Nick
2. First comes the stocking of little Nell
Oh, dear Santa fill it well
Give her a dolly that laughs and cries
One that will open and shut it's eyes
3. Next comes the stocking of little Will
Oh, just see what a glorious fill
Here is a hammer and lots of tacks
A whistle and a ball and a whip that cracks
Up at the North Pole
1. Up at the North Pole, without lauds,
There sits Mrs. Santa Claus.
Making all the gifts for girls and boy,
All for the little ones’ Christmas joys.
Ref: Ho, ho, ho! Who wouldn’t sit? Ho, ho, ho, who wouldn’t sit?
Up at the North Pole, click, click, click,
Sitting there with Mrs. Nick.
2. She’s the one who makes all the gifts,
Rules the workshop, fills the lists,
Makes sure that little Nell gets her fill
and that it’s all there for little Will.
3. She’s there baking through night and day,
So Santa leaves without delay.
Makes sure that Santa’s sleigh is full,
but not so much the reindeer can’t pull.
Categories:
lauds, christmas,
Form:
Rhyme