Best Lilted Poems
Lithesome fingers trailed along
the ukulele’s frets
as Lilah played her dulcet lullabies.
Swaddled in a blanket, smiling,
lay her little lad,
looking up at her with large blue eyes.
Lilah lilted, “Sleep, my son,
for tranquil dreams await.
Lull-lull-lullabies for you I sing.”
As she crooned mellifluously
lulling him to bliss,
she watched small eyelids flutter-fluttering.
Lightly, lightly, letting fingers
roll along the strings,
Lilah moved her delicate small hand.
Eyes that lingered lovingly
on the wee one saw
him amble soundly into Slumber Land.
May 29, 2017 for Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer's Contemporary Poetry Contest
*I enjoy almost all types of poetry, but I suppose this represents more the Classical approach which I most often use (more lyrical and with some rhymes) though my focus is on alliteration here. I love the way L words sound!
He whispered softly
against every inch of her skin
She could sense his yang
Still in need of her yin
His sweet wistful breath
lingered once again
beyond borders within
His presence held authority
of what once belonged to him
She knew the time to leave
before She would give in
This would be the first time
She wouldn't let him win
Her drumming heart was beating fast
as She closed the open door
Her vision blurred,She walked away
and strolled along the shore
She brushed sand-wishes off her feet
and wiped dew mist from her cheek
She lilted up her hazel eyes
into the starry sky
She watched the distant stars
glisten up so high
Lunar limbs wrapped her small waist
Poured moondust 'pon her face
Made her dream of dreams anew
where She' d sail over the blue
Where She'd let emotions flow
to the one who makes her whole.
I heard the springtime coming
in the whisper of the breeze
I saw the skies were changing
and it put my soul at ease
I felt the temps as they rose
and saw some blooms peek through
In the meadow, a melody flows
as birdsongs celebrate the new
The fragrance of the lilac,
how it lilted on the breeze
as daffodils dance to springtime's rhythm track
The flutter of the butterfly, a ballet if you please
1-8-2026
Child, Oh my child.
Words whispered on broken breath,
A baby soft palm upon my breast.
I can feel the wind stirring my hair.
Even as my sightless eyes attempt to stare.
Child, Oh my child.
The disappointment overwhelming.
Choking the sweet lilted voice til warped.
With needs desires,
dreams that had floated near.
Child, Oh my child.
Laying upon the street,
flakes plummeting from the air.
Frozen, so frozen yet my spirit is still here.
Twas the sweet lilted voice of a mother that had led me here.
PER CHANCE TO DANCE
Synchronization
Such a simple concept
As per a preconceived precept
And both so delicately adept
Fluidly
As one
Every step a humble bow to the sun
Every beat a reverent blessing for the moon
While ceremoniously synchronized to the tune
Every move calculated by an ovation and an overture of purity embraced
Each of our steps, by the other, so flawlessly traced
Two hearts too close and each made thus to race
While made, by the mysticism of music, to move with utter grace
Synchronization
Following each others lead
Dedicated to the dance indeed
No errant thoughts to collide with memory’s miscalculation
Just two souls adjudicating adulation
Whilst waltzing with a partner’s poised potential
Synchronization so reverential
With the essence of an essential
The embodiment of perfection as you are urged with urgency to float
Lilted aloft by every preordained note
As I sweep you around quite so sensually such as silk caught in an Autumnal breeze
And you with such embraceable ease………if you please
A pair fastened together by fascination while emulating an immaculate emotion
Synchronization
Such a very special notion
(c) 2013....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
YOU, ME, THE SUN AND THE SEA
I can envision your smile when mine wasn’t evident
I can hear your laughter when mine isn’t prevalent
I can imagine your glowing eyes beam while mine were dim
And I hear your voice of encouragement when my life grew dim
I can be all alone in a forest of Pontiac Pine and Oakland Oak
Surrounded by mementos of momentous monuments sculpted by the moments we spent together
For instance the day we spent at the arcade on the boardwalk by the sea
You and me
By the sea
The ocean where I walked in the footsteps your petite feet left behind
Tiny traces of lightness dwarfed by mine
And you giggled when I picked you up so there would only be two footprints in the sand
Then I recall you lilted lightly through the tiny waves that lapped onto the shore while you wore blue jeans and a checkered shirt
The hems of your denim became wet so you rolled them up to your knees
As you whispered that I was as delightful as that late summer breeze
I remember that day
Your smile
Your laughter
Your entrancing golden and green eyes
While we watched the sea ebb and rise
We were together on days now long past
We shared shimmering summer eves and winter days overcast
Warm misty nights and days when the sun refused to shine
Silvery and sparkling days when you were still mine
© 2011.…..~free cee!~ Phreepoetree
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes.
there will be no more death or mourning or
crying or pain, for the old order of things has
passed away. Revelation 21: 4 (NIV Bible)
I AM IMMORTAL
Explode from mortal to immortal,
in one forgotten breath.
Intake of first light.
Born, through the tunnel of my despair.
First images in black and white.
Mind snaps new memories…
I’m nearly breathless, as he comes into view,
hand extended - the one pierced for my transgressions.
And funny, my heart is racing, I’m sweating…
Salty tears run down my cheeks onto my shoulders.
I’ve hit my knees, weeping, at his bare feet.
His gentle hand upon my head,
he says, “arise my child.”
I obey, and blink through torrent tears.
I don’t see, but I feel the softest cloth – like cashmere,
rub over my face, catching each tear -
not one is missed.
I hear the sound of tinkling water.
The snow white cloth, I see it now!
He wrings out the shroud, and continues to wipe away
my misery.
“Cry, my child. Let it all out.”
He speaks to me as my mother would, lilted words.
Afterward, he points to a bottle, takes out a permanent ink pen –
Oh yes, they have those in heaven!
Writes a name. I look up at him, with questioning eyes.
Someone’s name, an unknown to me has been written.
Jesus smiles.*
“I’ve named you my child.”
I instantly hear the pronunciation, and register the meaning,
which, I believe, will take me all of eternity to dissect.
How beautiful, my name rings coming from pure lips!
“Come,” he says, “come and meet your family.”
We walk together, inside open gates - pearly gates.
I feel as though I’ve entered oz!**
Vivid rainbow colors, and colors I’ve never seen before!
Happiness like chains falling off…
like heavy burdens laid aside…
like a fresh shower…
like a new found tropical waterfall…
And I see exuberant faces. I know each name,
even those I’ve never met before.
I’m treated like a bride, an assembly line that takes their time,
hugging me, kissing each cheek. You see,
I have eternity. I am immortal!
2/19/2017
*smallest verse in bible – Jesus wept (John 11:35). In eternity,
I’ve adapted mine to say, “Jesus smiles.”
**L. Frank Baum’s book Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Movie
starts out in black and white then turns to color as the
protagonist enters Oz.
44.
Personality commodities
Melting into bar stools
Progress beyond God
to make the ultimate partnership.
Profits will come less belligerently
When lovers sing praises in lilted voices.
off tune liquors pour needlessly
down the throats of the well fed.
Meager brotherhood looked at me
With a dirty f
Four Cafe’s
It was post digestion time, 10pm ! uncomfortable bloating causing a staggering stand,supported by the apartment windows brass clasp, the torn green velvet digestion chair lilted just beneath. Nested above the Canal Madeline, perched in a loft atop hundreds of lonely books, which i have not browsed ! their prison the De Krook. Afar beyond the cracked glass, out into the January month night, wildly dancing snowflakes cause a cataract pin pointed view of the culprit of indigestion
“ Cafe Croix de Fer”!
Along the frozen cobbles, Ale fuelled, in-firms trudge and trip precariously, fuelled “by many Trappist brews” towards “ Cafe Le repaire des ames perdues” I myself, visit this lair to regularly, its chestnut doors, spit tainted in past blood, open 24 hrs per day 364 days each year , “ No ! The one day is not Noel ! Its Cask day “ And, on this one day, i visit " Cafe Noir"
My tipple of choice is a hand of cards ! held in gloves tattered and fingerless. This addiction to be found in the basement of the Library, a Cafe,174 worn steps below me, name “ Enfer” my light purse, confirms this.
Count.
The Wicker baskets
Rooster crackled, fresh new day!
Sun arose planting gentle kiss
on the Earth's fore-head....
A cottage in the woods stood elegant
Lilted the cool breeze outside so pleasant!
Woke her child this mother, filled with zest
A long embroidered green skirt ,
made of flax this mother had draped...
Adorned her neck, chains of coloured beads and stones
Dusky beauty she was tall and fabulous
lovely eyes and headgear made her look more gorgeous
Her little child of six opened her tiny eyes
Sprang up from the bed and
hugged her mother with warmth
Packed with tubers ,fruits ,water and sharpened sickle
they set deep into the woods in search of willows best
Mother guided, child diligently obeyed ....who in her mother, saw the Queen of the woods!
After hours of toil best quality reeds selected
brought them back home and put to dry in shade
From the already dried heap of weeks before
both set to work displaying their skill at best....
with secateurs and knives and best willows,
nimble fingers played designs best of both
stakes best aligned and the perfect slath followed...Weaving at its best continued...
Expertise Mother taught, the child followed....
By the fall of evening, ten attractive baskets
with well bent handles were all ready for sale,
at a fair in the neighbouring village.....
Smile of satisfaction on both faces lit
Mother thanked and hugged her child
Cuddled and kissed her while she said...
With little bucks we make I 'll buy......
new velvet cloth with glittering mirrors
and stitch for my princess ,
a new birthday dress!!
© Anulaxmi Nayak, 2015
Four Cafe’s
It was post digestion time, 6pm ! uncomfortable bloating causing a staggering stand,supported by the apartment windows brass clasp, the torn green velvet digestion chair lilted just beneath. Nested above the Canal Madeline, perched in a loft atop hundreds of lonely books, which i have not browsed ! their prison the De Krook. Afar beyond the cracked glass, out into the January month night, wildly dancing snowflakes cause a cataract pin pointed view of the culprit of indigestion
“ Cafe Croix de Fer”!
Along the frozen cobbles, “Chartreuse” fuelled, in-firms trudge and trip precariously, Monkeyfied by the Green Devil; towards “ Cafe Le repaire des ames perdues” I myself, visit this lair to regularly, its chestnut doors, spit tainted in past blood, open 24 hrs per day 364 days each year , “ No ! Not Noel ! Its Cask day “ And, on this day, i visit four cafe’s.
My tipple of choice Absinth ! And a deck of cards ! held in gloves tattered and fingerless. This addiction to be found in the basement of the Bookshop. A Cafe, 174 worn steps below me, its name “ Enfer” my light purse, confirms this.
Count.
We sat on a quiet porch by moonlight splashed,
Wrapped in a static of faint cicada song,
Watching a horizon by city lights sashed,
On sultry summer nights by lithe pixies thronged.
Bossa nova rhythms rippled lukewarm air,
Languid voices tiptoed in solacing calm,
Confidants whispering of the bronzed and fair,
Of sunlit sand they crooned a sun-lilted psalm.
Abducted we were by Jobim, Gilberto,
To a land swaying with the promise of June.
Those were the years we crowed with youth’s falsetto,
Blithely singing along, slightly out of tune.
- Inspired by the song “Desafinado (Out of Tune)” 1962 -
The solemn tune of slumber,
lays heavily on the keys,
as life's adventures wander,
passed in a soundless breeze.
As the sleeper mumbles,
Laying there with ease,
the mother watching humbles,
all daily angst appeased.
The dreamers breath fumbles,
slowly drifting within,
a lilted sound crumbles,
the space a tempered din.
On a shift she stumbles,
staring wide, chagrined,
a sniff, a cry, she grumbles,
then produces an incredible grin.
02/11/2018
Tell Me A Story 2 Poetry Contest
1st photo
Sponsored by: Brenda Chiri
the night was dusk and Halloween is near with fear
and clear starry night with shadows of lilted pumpkins on the porch as goblins eat there way through little children's trickery triter bags and children scream from the haunted night with a full moon and parties soon and all gooneys blow fire from there dragons and fire torches the pumpkin patches with orange goo all stuck around the land..
I cry for it's the age where I can no longer trick or treat in my jammies and so I just hand out candy by the door and adore the costumes. the night is old and I sip my tea and have memories of my children 40 some years ago.. where did Halloween Parties go.?
Edenic paradise garnished
by perfection magnificence
ushered mankind’s first parents
to an intimate relationship
with the sovereign Creator…
Garden, freshly-dressed
served as venue for blissful worship
around welcoming trees' canopy
lifting freedom praise of thanksgiving
while boughs lilted along adoration breeze…
Flower terraces of resplendent hues
wafted delightful redolence to the Lord
the Designer of supreme beauty-elegance
and Multiplier of blessings’ supply
as hallelujah symphony from songbirds prevailed…
Mountain ranges in their steadfast grandeur
expressed gratitude toward their Maker
through their pinnacles reaching out to the clouds
as hills extol their Upholder midst valleys’ affirmation
witnessed by the oceans’ wave-crests, exalting life Source…
Via virtual nature-trip, restricted with community lockdown
I find myself in this blessed ambiance
beholding nature, by faith
in its original creation-status…
thankful to the Sovereign Saviour for His handiwork*.
*Psalm 19:1 The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork.
May 10, 2021
8th place, "Nature" Free Verse Poetry Premier Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh; judged on 5/11/2021.