Best Laze Poems
This gypsy soul is on the road
It leaves castles far behind
It abandons ghostly mist
which sabotages the caravan of life
It passes along the mountainside
by golden hay fields where daises bloom
by stream of waters which sweeps
a withered rose
towards the decayed lumber flume
This gypsy soul is on the road
from Edinburgh to Lochlomond
against high winds,against the rain
against aquatic monsters of pain
This gypsy soul is on the road
to the woodlands of your heart
where I would camp inside your tent
as our blissful thoughts impart
This gypsy soul within myself
and all the woman in me
would wantingly await your fingertips
to compose soft pastel fantasy
The smell of early coffee
then fills our empty cups
The song of the cicada
would echo in the shrubs
And as the chimney smoke
drift sideways in the breeze
as warm dappled light filters
through purple pansy leaves
The pressing of my lips
would leave their crimson mark
below your sun- kissed cheek
My arms would cling around
your once a muscular physique
We laze upon a hammock
strung between two old oak trees
I play on your guitar,my hundred melodies
As the incandescent half moon
rises above the dusky hue
and orange paper lanterns
float high in cobalt blue
We'd chase the opalescent glow
of a million firefly
You'd be able to touch me
before last embers die
This gypsy soul is on the road
in search to be set free
Across bridges,on a journey
your compass-my destiny.
Categories:
laze, absence, passion,
Form:
Free verse
This gypsy soul is on the road
It leaves castles far behind
It abandons ghostly mist
which sabotages the caravan of life
It passes along the mountainside
by golden hay fields where daises bloom
By streams of waters which sweeps a withered rose
towards the decayed lumber fume
This gypsy soul is on the road from Edinburgh to Loch Lomond
against high winds,against the rain,against aquatic monsters of pain
This gypsy soul is on the road to the woodlands of your heart
where I would camp inside your tent as our blissful thoughts impart
This gypsy soul within myself and all the woman in me
would wantingly await your fingertips to compose soft pastels'fantasy
The smell of early coffee then fills our empty cups
The song of the cicada would echo in the shrubs
And as the chimney smoke drift sideways in the breeze
as warm dappled light filters through purple pansy leaves
The pressing of my lips would leave their crimson mark below your sun-kissed cheek
My arms would cling around your once muscular physique
We laze upon a hammock strung between two old oak trees
I play on your guitar my hundred melodies
As the incandescent half moon rises above the dusky hue
and orange paper lanternes float high in cobalt blue
We'd chase the opalescent glow of a million firefly
You'd be able to touch me before last embers die
This gypsy soul is on tne road in search to be set free
Across bridges on a journey,your compass -my destiny.
This is a repost of a poem I've written the 30th of April 2014
Categories:
laze, adventure, joy, love,
Form:
Free verse
I dreamed a butterfly in golden days
when buttercups lay in the fields ablaze.
It fluttered to my cheek, sweet love to bring.
My heart was wont to burst and wont to sing.
In breath of morn was scent of bluebell sprays.
On blossomed blankets of the fields we’d laze,
and into one another’s eyes we’d gaze,
my love and I, as April had her fling.
I dreamed a butterfly.
Our bliss was as the spring, a fleeting phase,
and brief’s the beauty of young lovers’ craze.
As cruelly as a wasp, he left a sting -
and all the lovely plans we made took wing,
leaving mere memories of golden days.
I dreamed a butterfly.
2/21/13
Categories:
laze, love, spring, , sweet
Form:
Rondeau
I meander through verdant valley
where meadows collide in windswept jade,
hillsides bathe in summer sunshine
and oceans of clouds, commit to shade.
Moorland sheep laze in woolly clusters
creating footpaths upon the hill,
busy hedgerow a rural city
scar of an era, is town head mill.
Vibrant coppice alive with creatures
leafy towers caress morning mist,
sunlight shines on distant window
across the valley, a sapphire twist.
Crag and beacon rise majestic
standing stone a monument to thrall,
sculptured by marauding seasons
an ancient culture’s, rocky stall.
Yet to chance upon misty patterns
softly sketched upon the hill,
I will savour these happy moments
awakening to, a distant trill.
Wharfedale, Yorkshire England
© Harry J Horsman 2001
Categories:
laze, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
...inspired by 'The Salamander' by C.S. Lewis
The sun bore down with blinding rays,
the oceans boiled and came to nought,
it was withal the end of days
with every living creature caught,
when from the rocks, agile, adept,
a tiny lizard meekly crept.
With roughened skin and beady eye
he reconnoitered through the haze,
no stranger to a blazing sky
it lay in shade, at last to laze,
it raised his head, albeit weak,
and rallied, then began to speak.
"The Future of Mankind is sealed,
the devil's bell has tolled and won,
no recompense, no last appeal,
eclipsed before you have begun
to fight disease and lawlessness,
the hallmarks of your wickedness.
No light will break from yonder stars
to help you in your hour of need,
your destiny these blighted scars
that seal your folly and your greed,
alone with your predicament,
God's only live experiment.
To mess with Nature to your shame,
to disregard His Holy Name,
to vilify the Golden Rule
will label you the Biggest Fool,
death comes quick as you will see,
the bell has tolled, and tolled for thee."
Categories:
laze, horror,
Form:
Verse
Reflections of you are colored in blue
like the sky on the day we first met.
The sky was so clear; your eyes were so dear.
Such a day I could never forget.
Reflections of you are colored in blue
like the bluebells nearby where we lay.
Their scent in the air; your soft golden hair.
How I longed in that moment to stay!
Reflections of you are colored in blue
like the lake where we often would laze.
Together and free; your arms around me.
Now I yearn for those sweet summer days.
Reflections of you are colored in blue
like the twilight that too soon would blend
with shadows of night as stars lost their light
and the love of my life had to end.
For the Weepy Quatrain Contest of Laura Loo
(I hope multiple quatrains are ok!)
Categories:
laze, blue, longing,
Form:
Quatrain
The copse of aspens quake.
Horses graze and cows laze
as languid summer splays
emeralds in its wake,
low fields to overtake
the prospect's cyan glaze.
Immutable the sun
in lambent saffron drape
above the lucid scape
contemplates the glisten,
auscultates the paean,
the whispering of crepe
as runes the leaves impart
to dulcify the heart.*
*Hexsonnetta is a form invented by Andrea Dietrich
1/7/18
Categories:
laze, imagery, nature, summer,
Form:
Sonnet
My feline bittersweet awakening
came decked with golden trim of flawless days.
A time it was to frolic and to fling
ourselves in grass, all afternoon to laze.
Together we were fearless, wild and free,
a noble lion and his lioness.
And sadly, neither one of us could see
that passion such as ours would evanesce.
Our error was believing that each kiss
could carry us. . . that love could multiply
or even match July’s exceeding bliss.
By summer’s end, our ardor had run dry.
A lion’s appetite can satiate,
and love - less noble then - will soon abate.
Posted 6/11/11/ Now used for the In the Name of Love Contest of Shadow Hamilton
Categories:
laze, love,
Form:
Sonnet
I remember those days when just a kid,
the old ten shilling note, and the odd quid.*
Teddy boys in their drain pipes, fur collars
smelling of nicotine, street wise scholars.
Conkers,* glass alleys* and comics as well,
bow and arrows, gat* to ring the school bell.
Electric tram, trolley bus and steam train
holidays in Blackpool, not yet in Spain.
Left over stew, dripping dispersed on bread,
a choice of marg or jam, not both was spread.
Roly-poly pud with custard, oh yes
school dinners, oh the ridicule the stress.
Journey in to space radio drama,
while bathing in a tin bath pure karma.
Medicals at school and nit nurses too
combing for the eggs, washing with shampoo.
No drugs, only cigs in small packs of five,
fifty fifty dance halls, old and new thrive.
Outside loo, oh them freezing winter nights
oil lamps, a candle to enhance one’s lights.
High street fish and chip shop charging nine pence,
potato crisps, tab* of salt to dispense.
Tanners,* hape’ny’s* and those threp’ny* bits,
meccano sets, clockwork trains came in kits.
Motorbikes, British pride on just two wheels,
Triumph, BSA, a nation reveals.
Alas long gone these balmy days of laze,
happy to have played a part in this phase!
*Quid:::: A one pound note (UK)
*Conkers:;;; Game played with the fruit of the horse chest nut tree.
*Glass Alleys::::: A type of Marble for the game of marbles.
*Gat::::: A catapult, or slingshot..
*Tab::: One brand of crisps in the UK, place a small blue pack of salt in each packet
*Tanners:::: A sixpenny coin
*Hape’ny’s::: A halfpenny coin
*Threp’ny bit::::: A Threepenny 12 sided coin, also called Thrupence depending where one resided in the North of England
.
© Harry J Horsman 2012
Categories:
laze, nostalgia, school, old, old,
Form:
Rhyme
When we are walking…
and we’re stepping on a spiky ground,
Walk lightly without looking down or turning around;
Ahead of us always awaits the finest sand
where we can lay down and laze in the sun.
When we are climbing…
and we’re going to climb a scree,
Dodge those stones that roll down on us freely;
And if we feel disdain and in vain,
remember that we’re unique, with special knacks and strength.
When we’re swimming…
and we’re swimming on distraught of morass counts,
keep dancing the minuet of life in mellow sounds;
When sable clouds and torrents of rain teem down too,
swim at our best stoke, on those clouds we’ll always float and glow.
When we are loving…
and we’re loving too much from the heart,
It hurts, but Cupid also heals wound with his magic dart;
Keep on loving others, never stifle and give up
Love is a berth of comfort, a precious gift, a great reward.
When we are standing…
and we’re lashed by cataclysm that mangled our heart,
Cling to the Lord, He will restore everything from the start;
He will reshape whatever was deformed
And make us stand straight, a forever cypress amidst the storm.
Dec. 9,2014 10.50pm
©2014Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
-I hope this humble poem of mine can inspire or uplift. God bless! This was not entered in a contest because it’s too late but it’s ok with me.
Categories:
laze, inspirational, uplifting,
Form:
Rhyme
fattened lambs no longer
laze in sun -
market day dawns
Categories:
laze, farm,
Form:
Haiku
On Grandpa’s farm we rose to summer’s light,
then stayed outside – sometimes till dark of night.
There was a gated big front yard and tree
and hollyhocks, so pretty, growing free.
Behind the house there was a tool shed and
some old machines with which to till the land.
Unused were they, and I recall one day
we sat on one of them while at our play.
A swarm of bees rose up. I swear they chased
us unrelentingly as home we raced!
Except for that one incident, our days
were wonderful! On soft grass we would laze.
There was a lane that we’d go walking down.
It led to an old road, which led to town.
We picked soft pussywillows on that lane.
Raspberries too – which gave our grins a stain!
Long gone is Grandpa’s farm where we once stayed
and Grandpa too. . . but feelings never fade.
An oldie for Janice Canerdy's Rhyming Couplets Poetry Contest
Categories:
laze, childhood,
Form:
Couplet
Down in the meadow, bees are buzzing away
cows laze about, after feeding all day
Wildflowers attract butterflies, in pastel arrays
lapping up nectar, in the warm sunny rays
Down in the meadow, lambs frolic and play
ladybirds climb grass tufts, that gently sway
A farmer wipes his brow, whilst loading hay
midges swirl about, as young horses neigh
Down in the meadow, goldfinches come to lay
gobbling down thistle seeds, without delay
Baby spiders spin webs, in more than one way
none of them mind each other, so all’s ok
Down in the meadow, an old donkey brays
don’t think he’s cross, just dislikes his dray
The residents don’t care, what this ass says
all have things to do, and ignore me anyway
Categories:
laze, allusion, nature, nice,
Form:
Monorhyme
Eve of the New Year, eyes strain to see pale depths of yonder
anticipating a fresh sky to gleam golden this year.
With said goodbyes, I awaken, reborn in wonder
of innocence held in sunlit smiles of those I hold dear
and hope to value lessons learned ‘neath gracious skies swept clear.
Happiness renews in a freckle faced sky of twinkling stars
as I slow my pace to laze below her beauty and gaze in awe
of infinity, searching for miracles beyond my many scars,
and I shall live free to dance and sing, honoring God’s law,
humbly glorifying Him, seeing His reflection through each flaw.
Standing tall in this new year, I resolve to be more grateful,
finding joy in each day and confidence to breathe life genuine.
The sky will change above, the earth will spin below, and faithful,
I’ll take my place amid with these ideals circling within.
This year, I’ll reach for sky that never falls and dream of heaven.
Written for Francine Robert's
This Year in English Quintain Contest, 1/6/15
Categories:
laze, identity, inspiration, introspection, new
Form:
Quintain (English)
Oh do move on, Summer - it's time for a change
I've so many seasonal chores to arrange!
Whilst you, my dear sister can laze in the sun,
For me there are serious tasks to be done.
I have to ensure that the hedgehogs remember
To stock up on food at the start of September.
Then trigger celestial cues as causation
For swallows' onset of long distance migration.
Blithe, frolicking squirrels must forfeit their play
To stash bereted nuts for the next rainy day.
And whilst I remember, the trees need a shake;
A gentle reminder their leaves to forsake.
A new coat of paint is applied in a rush,
A kiss from my lips makes the blackberries blush.
I’ll crisp up the air and leave everything stark,
Ensuring that nippy Jack Frost makes his mark.
Then tickle the prickles of sweet chestnut shells
Till, sides split with laughter, their treasure expels.
And last but not least, I've the pumpkins to swell
And harvest to gather, folk's hunger to quell.'
Flamboyant and frisky, in colourful dress
The glory of autumn can't fail to impress!
02/09/18
Early Sept 2018 Standard,Any Form,Any Theme,Upto A Max Of 20 Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
'Colourful Fall' Sponsored by: Nayda Ivette Negron
15/09/18
Categories:
laze, anxiety, autumn,
Form:
Couplet