Best Lay Over Poems
In Memoriam Quietly Always Close
Are they whispers, then, settling
So gently upon that slightest breeze wending
Over the granite crosses and statues of cradling angels,
Which stand in their long cemetary rows?
Stating each name of the one passed on with
There-on etched, too, the noting of time alive
And telling of the beloved, who hum there their slow laments;
Who send up colorful balloons to celebrate their love and
Take far their silent greetings in the sky.
Are they lullaby heartsongs, which
Rise on sprigs of heaven-bound light,
So tunefully sweet for love’s addressed, aided
By a league of angellic composers
In their lyrical rounds from above our earthly sphere?
Are these the places of our hushed sympathies?
The places we lay over our dear ones
All the broken pieces of the grieving heart’s still longing
To stay in some way forever near, and, so, we linger thoughtfully
Criss-crossing the undulating final verdigris
Landscape, which embraces the last remains ~
Resting on in heaven’s wait for that further journey going on.
Are these faint mists surrounding
So many hours of our own remaining days —
Which are spent summoning back the stories, the touches,
The eyes that happily cast their glance into our own —
Not truly our tears
Being turned to magnifying memories,
Prayerfully appearing with each
Dusk’s close of day and placid rise of the radiant moon?
Do see that the soundless falling is our aching?
Is a furor — burst of pure, white snow:
A flash of a blizzard, looking nearly weightless,
Landing in silence, but
Incongruously, falling heavily down, into those forming crystalline layers
To dress a seeming lace-like çover over all the stone markers
With a luminous beauty, revealing a metaphor, ineffable
~ Blessed markers of life itself set here before us
Within reach of meeting the Divine.
—————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 6/5/2023
(Written for Jennifer Wilson & Maggie Hopkins in loving
Memory of James Hopkins, spouse, father, & friend) Also written with the inspiring power of images of the 9,000 marking gravestone crosses in Normandy, France, and sights of Arlington Cemetary, Washington, D.C.
Written to unaccompanied cello Suite 1 in G major, perfomer Yo Yo Ma
Thanks be to God…
Then I knew what lay over the distant horizon
For the sun dared me to follow it to the other side
Where light took shape in a proud day’s kaizen,
Morning accompanied yesterday’s journey inside
The frolic of the night where dragons had come to hide.
I awakened to the sound of recorders and flutes
Neatly clad pedestrians hustling to the cities’ centers,
Skyscrapers built like working men in sturdy boots --
I watched from subway steps one hurriedly enters
While my country’s powerful slept like mad dissenters.
My peace was suddenly shattered by earth's shaking
One hapless hemisphere grating against a silent other
Trying to foresee the future, theirs for the taking,
Because passivity and paucity of concern smother
Devaluing the halcyon days of my father and mother.
The sun bade me follow upward to the eastern rim
To view objectively another point of view in time
And space, that I shall experience in lessons less grim,
Awakening my heart chilled, then fluttered in mime
Seems humankind, en toto, has a rugged uphill to climb.
EIGHTH PLACE WINNER
written February 3, 2022
especially for "Quintain (English)" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Emile Pinet
#76 on Poetry Soup's Best Poems List
February 25, 2022
Mother said of all the mid-summer flowers she loved best,
The common garden dahlia was clearly her favorite.
Every Spring she carefully hand-placed the sturdy tubers,
Tenderly caring for each one, watched it bravely shoot up,
Growing, until large luscious red, orange, and purple blooms
Burst forth like the golden globular sun they resembled.
Some have noticed strolling through a garden of dahlias
Is very much like sorting through large boxes of buttons, *
All sizes, shapes, and colors waiting to be selected.
Mother saved the bulbs of her favorites from year to year
Carefully wintered them over in the damp root cellar,
Watching for earliest signs of tender green shoots sprouting.
Mother told us after she became seriously ill,
To make sure a quilt of dahlias lay over her grave.
When she left us at the end of that torturous July
For her bier we had a blanket assembled from her beds
Of the species of daisies, zinnias, chrysanthemums
And, as she requested, several pure-white dahlias.
*idea from "dahlias" on Internet
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written March 11, 2021
For "Flower-Flowers (Imagery) Contest
by Constance La France
Each line contains 14 syllables
Cap'n & the Wench *part the fourth*
Says the Wench t'the Cap'n "Me thinks I'll 'ave me some White Lightnin' "
So says the Cap'n t'the Wench "Go right ahead Me Dear~
Fer y've ne'er been quite so Frightnin' "
With an Evil Grin & a Twinkle in his Eye~
So's the Wench did notice & then By & By~
& did say to the Cap'n "Be mindin' Yer P's & Q's!"
"Fer Me's the Wench what Decides that which Ye Do!"
"Yer no Grinnin'Porpoise & that there's no Danged Flipper!"
"Har!" says the Cap'n ~ "I am though the Skipper!"
The Wench danced along the Bowsprit of the Great Vessel that Night~
Whilst Mighty SeaWolf stormed along the Decks with all of his Might~
Sails which had lay flat now filled Fastly with Breeze~
Now came that night most Confused sort of Seas~
The Great ship did lay over as Far as she'd Go~
And 'twas the Wench who no longer Ran to & Fro~
Now did those geat waves Break o'er the Ship
Not even the the Great SeaWolf could give 'em the Slip~
Upon the Great Ship and all Her Captain & Crew~
Had befallen the luck Uncommon to but a Few~
For the Great Ship No longer Sailed O'er the Oceans~
And the Mighty SeaWolf drifted toward other Notions~
Says the Wench to the Cap'n "Me thinks I'll rap ya up side o'yer Head!"
So says the Cap'n to the Wench "Go right ahead Me Dear!~
Fer 'twas you brung young Mimi to Bed!"
With an Evil Grin & a Twinkle in his Eye~
So's the Wench did notice & then By & By~
& did say to the Cap'n "Be mindin' Yer P's & Q's!"
"Fer Me's the Wench what Decides that which Ye Do!"
"Yer no Grinnin'Porpoise & that there's no Danged Flipper!"
"Har!" says the Cap'n ~ "I am No Longer the Skipper!"
The Great Ship is Never Seen Sailin' Agin on the Seas....
Spirits were Never that with which this Hardy Wench to Please!
SeaWolf
I watched as the dark grew around his eyes.
He came through the window,
Stepping like a shadow.
He was the night, he was the ghost, he was the
Unaided fighter as he reached for my side.
And I so desperately wanted to caress his masked face.
His pace was noiseless and so attractive,
Yet death was nearer with every step,
I thought.
Still, I didn’t care if my life would have ended
That night, stolen by the elusive ninja…
I wanted him even closer.
He quickly searched the inside of his shozoku,
Only to reveal a deadly suriken.
Breathless, as he approached, I stood there,
Not wanting to disenchant from his spell.
With one blow, the suriken ripped
The shoulder of my nightgown.
Flowing red stained my pillow
And it felt so real.
Oh, how I wanted his knife at my throat,
Me, his target of the night,
And how I sighed when he drew
His katana.
With one lethal strike I would have
Plunged on the floor, choking for my last breath,
Yet he gently traced the contour of my
Trembling chin… trembling, but only for his touch.
My tears sparkled in the cold, hard steel
As I sensed his breath arising.
I only heard his samurai chuckle and with no warning
He hurled his sword back into the dark.
We both moaned in anxious passion
When he bore my hand into a painful
Wrist lock.
I did not care, I did not see, I did not feel anything aside
The dark-haired ninja over my hips.
Our mangled bodies mirrored in the shiny steel of his forgotten blade,
His chest crowning over mine,
His hands fondling in my hair, down to my aroused breasts.
Two naked bodies trapped in my jujitsu legs.
A ninja so dark, so passionate, so fast,
He gently pulled aside my hidden Sai from under the cushion.
He kissed my breasts, my wrists, my hair,
My lips…
My shoulder, he patched with his soothing mouth.
We locked in kiss so quickly, his tongue
Bitter from my blood, snapping at my neck
And torso while he pushed inside me, deeper.
Invisible in the dark, he loved me
In endless ways, my fragile ninja rested
On the top of my chest.
I stroked his hair in content and silence,
Not even knowing his name.
A dark-haired ninja lay over my hips
When dawn came chewing at our lashes.
I then turned, not to see his figure,
Relying on my silent samurai
Of the dusk that I’ll go back to sleep
And he’ll go back to black.
© 2009 Stefania Carmen Misaila
That Old Tree Was Loved
That old tree had weathered many storms past
Veteran of countless intense brush fires
Giant limbs still grew strong and very fast
Yet this summer, one can see where it tires.
Broken limb , dangling about thirty feet up
Huge hole burnt in deep by last big burn
Dried out looking for water from drought's cup
If it dies this year , so it was its turn.
Child of nine swung from its lofty branches
Climbing so very high for a huge thrill
Tree was life and we daring to take chances
To see farther, what lay over the next hill.
A picture of old and ancient life now gone.
Remembering, this heart again feels so alone!
Robert J. Lindley, 07-28-2015
Note- Yes this old tree existed on the farm .
As a young child I marveled at its size and beauty.
When I turned 45 years old I went back to see if it was still there.
Only a huge stump remained.
For me as a child it was the greatest toy in world.........
The sky overhead a delft blue, solid and true
lay over a lake glacial of a pristine hue.
In its reflection a bounty of yellow broom
joining earth and heaven, a marvelous venue.
A forest of staunch evergreens stand like statues
protecting mans homestead from the wind's avenue,
all strands of the wide Universe upon God’s loom
celebrating the beauty of natures virtue.
Ringed about by mountainous alpine retinues
reaching upward, toward heaven, so one may construe
that each of us waits in His earthly ante-room
praying our hearts are not too filled with rue.
Feelings some less defying and unexplained
Death takes order without complain
Over pastures falls blood rain
Pleads to surrender seize and refrain
Graves spread out over plains
World of grief bound and chained
Humanity differs until the stronger remains
Watching powerless as the world is strained
Bodies of the defeated lay lifeless and drained
Blankets lay over them soaked and blood stained
Leaving now the mourning from the down pour of blood rain
Across her village far deep in to the forrest Morning Star found peace and
contentment. Here away from her village, the young girl enjoyed the daylight
hours with the sounds and beauty of nature and it's animals. Beyond the forrest
the mountains held a mystery all their own. Their beauty touched her soul and
spirit yet they seems so far off to her.Her thoughts wondered what lay over them
and what new world lay beyond those haunting peaks reaching to the sky.
Suddenly the early morning was shattered by the sounds of gunfire. With all
the men gone hunting no one was there to protect the village. Morning Star's
thoughts were of not only the others in the village but of her mother and baby
sister, she had to get back to them. Screams of women and children cut through
the forrest as the scent of smoke and the sounds of horses grew closer.
Suddenly the sounds began to fade and only the smell of smoke remained. As
she stood at the clearing, Morning Star saw what was left of her village. Unable to
move as her eyes looked across the bodies of women and children laying all
around. Tears filled her eyes as she walked by so many searching for her
mother and baby sister, hoping that they had fled to safety. There in the dirt lay
her mother clutching her baby sister, both dead. How could this have happened?
How could the soldiers have done this to them?
Morning Star placed a blanket over her their lifeless bodies and slowly walked
away. Her life as she knew it was gone, dead along with her mother and baby
sister. She was the only survivor. Slowly she walked back into the forrest. Dusk
was beginning and the forrest would keep her safe for the night. Tomorrow she
would search for a way up to the mountains, there she would find a path to her
destiny and what the spirits have chosen for her. She would be the only one to
tell the story of all who had been lost this day. She would be the only one to keep
their story alive for generations after this.
Miles and miles of open country pass as the train moves.
A sudden thrust, jolt then nothing. The earth stands still.
Wind circulates pushing branches, leaves dance with the melody..
We sit..
Or movement halted by a slow moving freight,
we do an unheard of twenty five miles per hour.
I need a shower, shave, clean clothes.
A bathroom stench overwhelmingly horrific,
waste scented essence in the air,
mixed with the body odor of many
who share.
On the toilet seat,
look,
a pubic hair..
Finally, we slowly begin to move.
A conductor walks past checking destinations screaming:
"Next stop Chicago."
Passengers gather their belongings furious for the twelve hour delay.
Glossy eyes, scowls, a common look amongst the strangers.
Again, the train stops, deep breaths and a few colorful phrases
spout from a dozen or so.
A group of five sit and curse the situation,
hoping for a new permutation.
Hunger, fatigue, and back spasms corrupt my mood.
I am in need of food.
Sleep is not something that my body has seen.
The ride so far not peaceful, nor serene.
The delay has caused my lay-over to cease
causing me to jump trains hungry.
Where the meals range between $8.50-$15.00 a piece.
As I run to my next long acting bedroom on rails,
I smell food in the distance, hamburgers, fries, and chicken.
Oh, how this experience has sickened me.
........:JP)
white is the new snow
it colours land with pureness
fresh and crisp to touch
Pristine snow lay over the fields clothing it in white crystals
soft piles of deep drifts abound the hedges
the simple beauty of the snowdrops poking up their heads
as the land warms, white daffodils wave their trumpets like wands
followed by the hawthorn which coats the valley in white
the blossom on the various fruit tree a delightful sight
beautiful highly scented elderberry flowers shower the trees
stately white lilies greet the bride as she draws nigh the alter
virginal blossoms
adorn and scent the arbour
a delightful sight
01/02/2014
contest Something in White
Freddy the Fly was
disembarking at ,
long last...
And if you noticed
his face, perchance.
.the very thought of
six hundred tears
falling happenstance
He'd booked a lay- over
in the Alleghany swarmps
Cause someone told him
A few "Crock and Colas"
"Will put some nice sharp
shoes where you need them
But
First thing Freddy does see...a hungry croc headed for he!
freddy was all over him; much too fast for the croc to see.
At the given signal
However, this was a dream. a 'Crock", for sure.
six hundred
i lay over my brother
i feel so proud,
is this what a brother
is all about,
to take you under my wing you see
a will be there if you need me,
to look at you with a mighty smile
you make my life all worth while,
so sleepy as you lay there
a new born brother with no hair,
what will you be when you grow up
i will be around if you need shook up,
all the beauty mother gave to you
she gave you life that,s so true,
my heart melts as you look on up
to your brother who gives you love,
a bonnie baby as you are,
with cheeky smiles and endless love,
to watch you walk and follow me,
i will learn you how even to pee,
as the things when we grow up
learn you to shave with out a cut,
that,s many years to come as yet,
we will bug mum to buy a pet,
things will be good when you grow up,
to chase the girls and show them love,
we will be by each others side,
hope am there when you find a bride.
my little brother i give you love,
i will be quiet in case you wake up,
will look over your shoulder and watch you breath,
just remember i am there if you need me,
all the time when your around,
i both hope we make our mother proud,
with our hearts we hope this is true,
my little brother i do love you,,,
To Gooney Birds
Shifting palm trees in sandy beach sunshine
Guard an immortal violet-blue lagoon
Gooney birds beg and dance all in a line
When they land it’s like watching a cartoon
As the ship is being refueled at pier
Steaks and beer on the beach with these strange birds
An island oasis it would appear
What I observed was truly beyond words
Sailors in various degrees of dress
Being chased and attacked by vicious foul
While steaks burned with cold beer we couldn’t care less
By sunset my shipmates began to howl
A bizarre lay over as you have read
We left at sunrise all with aching head
All that was holy died in resplendence.
kerbstones bit gutters and gutters sucked road,
black and white zebra stripes buried by snowflakes,
wires fizzed and snapped as their cups overflowed.
Cars lay abandoned, the milk float down-charged,
four-by-four mega trucks grounded and still,
seagulls kept guard on memorial statues,
screeched at the sea that lay over the hill.
Behold velvet drapes flanking twitchy lace curtain,
knuckles clenched white whilst brows knitted grey,
women of substance blew tea in bone china,
until it fell cool at the passing of day.
All lowered eyes to the carpet and skirting,
fingers flicked lint more imagined than real,
from the cuffs of their blouses, the plaid of their skirts,
substitution for anything human to feel.
She who self-hanged in the cramped bedroom closet,
hands dangled lifelessly down by her side,
lips black and swollen, ghost kissing conscience,
tongue poking purple and eyes staring wide.
The avenue drowned in a quagmire of quiet,
decency nailed to each window and door,
Winter would pass, taking with it the memory,
for what, more or less, is another dead whore?
Spring is the mistress of life and vivacity,
Summer the passion child, sweet honey breath,
Autumn the lover whose time is expiring,
Then pale mistress Winter, and Winter is death.