Best Loitered Poems
Longing in lowly light of longer days
by which a summer wilts paternal dreams
and browns the loitered heaves of yellow spring:
the budding void that stamps an empty swing
seen swaying golden locks ungated beams
my own Begotten streamed in greener dawn
where fussy forums for an April fawn
allay no muttered march on mother’s May.
Persistent blades unsheathe the sprawling grass
beneath the blue release of silver dew -
an inch overgrown, as inch shrouded cool
billows: arisen reeds from dizzied drool
showing flashes of reincarnation
cured by the rose (or purple carnation)
4/4/17
If you were not going to
Love me in the morning,
You should have crept away
Into the moonlight,
Faceless
You should have left
Before the daylight
Burst into the bedroom
With sparkling hope
You should not have stayed
Lingered
Loitered
Laughing in my kitchen
Drinking from my plastic mug
Acting as If
You were going to throw
Your painted mask
Into the fire
No
You should have
Faded away
Like an echo into a canyon
Like a name on the tip of a tongue
Like a dream almost recalled --
The only clue that you were here
An indentation in my sheets
I could have smoothed away
Instead of This
This pretense of love
Of normalcy,
Of old lovers on
An ordinary day,
When you won’t even
Look me in the eye --
If there is no hope
Of love
Of a you and me, an “us”
Then please just LEAVE
I fiercely prefer
The fleeting memory
Recently in my dream
a wild pigeon flew inside my house
landed on the corridor and
turning into a baby
came toddling to me.
I lifted him,held in my arms
and loitered here and there.
I asked , “Dear,
when will you turn again into a bird ? “
But before listening his reply
I woke up from sleep.
It was five morning ,
chirping of the birds heard
three wild pigeons walking
on the courtyard .
I have some fruit trees growing
at the backward and courtyard
of my house
on which they usually perch.
1.
The clouds flew in embrace with the wind,
In occassions many, they came together,
To bless the land with manna dew and
To bring to rest the flames of the heart,
To call to the winter moon and bring to
The animals a moment of peaceful sleep.
But it stays not long and embarks on a
Journey new to a new spring.
2.
The stream laments the pained moments
Of brutal separations and the beautiful
Recollections of the steady comfort in the
Embrace of her fellow companions when
They loitered hand in hand with the wind,
But she goes on still with a heavy heart,
Adorned with the memories of glory and
Dreams of hope.
3.
The stars burn with the
Fires not extinguished of the past,
They comfort the heart in every journey,
With the pleasing assurance of
The eternal burning of memories in
Moments of despair,
The path can be the sweet garden of
The thousand roses or the darksome valley
Of the thousand thorns, but there will
Aways be the little moments of peace, when
The eyes can get lost in the stars, to
Reminisce about what it was,
The feet will gain strength and a new
Journey will begin.
Sponsor - Brian Strand
Contest Name - YOUR CHOICE 2022
Date - 24th December, 2022
II.
Liesel spent months worrying about this,
about dark minions and young souls that hurt,
she even started fearing for herself
for questioning the teachings of the church.
She did not want to damn herself to Hell,
but she couldn’t believe that it was true
that a loving God would punish children
for something that they themselves couldn’t do.
How did it make sense that helpless infants
could be punished due to their parents?
Why would they suffer for another’s sins,
how in the world did such a thing make sense?
But Liesel kept this turmoil inside,
and tried to just keep on living her life,
didn’t tell of doubts that haunted her thoughts,
or worried dreams that kept hear up at night.
It all came to a head six months later,
her neighbor’s new baby died in his sleep,
The town gathered up for the funeral,
to weep loudly, and to pour out their grief.
Liesel loitered near the back of the crowd,
every so often she glanced to the woods,
until finally she saw the woman,
and decided she’d settle this for good.
She crept out of her parent’s house that night,
made her way slowly down to the churchyard,
at midnight the old crone walked to the grave,
and from her cloak removed some sort of jar.
She opened it and stood there quietly
for a long moment, then shuffled away,
Liesel followed, determined that somehow
she would not make this foul demon pay.
Through a dark forest of eldritch oak trees,
where brushy undergrowth scratched at her skirts,
across gurgling streams that wet her feet,
down dark ravines where the wolfpacks still lurked.
Amidst calling owls loud in the night,
she followed that old crone through the wild,
she kept a good distance, forty paces,
her feet bled, and she wheezed from the trial.
Finally she came upon a small glade,
to the center of it the crone did go,
right to an old cabin that rose up there,
Over the door was a sign that said ‘Limbo.’
Her heart froze as the old woman walked in,
she saw the briefest flash of light from inside,
all of her reason screamed out, ‘You should run!’
But she couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried.
Some great force acted deep within her soul,
she couldn’t say if for good of for ill,
but Liesel found herself approaching the door,
simply a pawn to some powerful will…
A dauntless dachshund was my darling dog.
He was charmed to chase the cavorting frog.
He always ran and romped with great agility ,
For sniffing and smelling mice, he had a special ability.
He was rock black in shade and was very bold.
He stayed loyal and lively and never grew old.
His swaddling gait and swiveling move,
Brought much joy. From life, all boredom he did remove.
Safeguarded and shielded our home with a surveilling eye.
Lazily loitered with us under the lulling evening sky.
His sparkling starry eyes shone with joyful delight.
He sought snuggles and cuddles as if they were his right.
Sad, one day, our darling dachshund for ever departed.
Dropping his doggy duties, from us, he silently parted.
The memory of the magical moments he gave, merrily stays.
A faithful friend who gave us funny and festive days!
Been about seven years since I've seen them.
Hanging like burnt grapes.
Deep in the throat of memory.
Black tie, black pants. black shoes.
To go with the black smile of tomorrow's blues.
Close to a hundred years she lived, take or give.
Fifty people or so left to live in her wake.
Blue words dance from ice blue faces.
Ancient hiccups to soothe the ages.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
The grave digger waits, leans against his spade.
We've loitered too long in the blackness of our blackest day.
I miss the days when we raced around the board games of our youth.
Two Aloha-shirted Hawaiians
of generous girth were strumming
their ukuleles
on a small stage in front of the hotel’s poolside bar
in the late afternoon,
rehearsing for the night’s performance.
It must have been the low season,
as both bar and pool were deserted.
and the singer, unburdened
by a leis-laden audience’s
Mai Tai-soaked expectations,
was going through a mele
as if trying it on for size,
his voice loose-limbed with an easy grace.
Wrapped in the ukuleles' lolling strains,
his falsetto notes tumbled out into an
uncongested airspace,
where no ceiling formed by small talk, disjointed laughter
or tinkling glasses impeded their progress,
so they unfurled their wings,
lifted themselves into the hibiscus-brushed breeze,
and climbed,
hopscotching and frolicking on their ascent,
skipping from Tiki torch to treetop to balcony.
Some straggled, loitered on windowsills.
Some, afraid of heights, fluttered back down
to rest on top of beach umbrellas
next to shadows of palm fronds.
Still others hang-glided out over the sand
and the lapis water,
lured by the marigold light.
So that, when they alighted on my
hotel room balcony ten floors above,
they were fragments,
excerpted by the intervening air
from the upflowing cascade into
a broken yet voluptuous murmur,
a soft, lilting South Seas benediction
floating around my head.
I’d just sat down in the balcony chair, alone,
my wife being inside the room busying herself
with the correct placement of luggage
after we’d checked in.
And so it was that I found myself looking out
at the beginnings of a sky-painting Maui sunset
accompanied by air that quietly sang.
Maybe it was my senses unwinding
after the bustle of the journey,
or maybe it was simply that I was caught unawares,
but the feeling of contentment,
the almost Zen-like awareness of the here and now,
that overcame me at that moment was something
no convergence of sights and sounds
has been able to reproduce in the 20 years since.
It was, to be sure, an experience I’d paid more than
a negligible amount of money for.
The irony is that it was the first time
I truly understood the simplicity of happiness.
Mahalo.
the seahorses grazed in a field undersea
the jellyfish wobbled at the party
the starfish in their constellations went
the clams secretive tight lipped and silent
the hammerhead sharks did the DIY
the clown fish entertained as they swam by
the plankton ruled undersea in their gangs
the octopuses spent too long shaking hands
the crabs on the side their day they spent
the lobsters approached in a pincer movement
the sea urchins loitered dishevelled and poor
while the oysters enjoyed everything and all
I first met her on a holiday at Shuklaphanta Wildlife Reserve.
Love strikes me like lightning when I saw her,
so powerful and intense it can’t be denied.
It turns me inside out,
and there was no going back from it.
Once the thunderbolt hits, my life irrevocably changed.
With a carved stem-thin figure,
And sparkly appearance.
Her pencil-thin eyebrows,
eased down gently to her velvety,
Eyelashes.
Her beauty is the celebrity's cute wind-swept
twisting through
the late evening's darkening heavens.
Her smile shines stunningly
like the sun rising over the skyline,
her luminous, heavenly-white teeth flashed
as she pawed at me with her flick star nails.
Her gorgeousness is the stars
that is now quivering into view
as their star shine ends its life journey
as a whim I am.
Her enticing, constellation-blue eyes
gazed at me
over her syrup-sweet lips,
She had a springy character
and a syrupy voice, which I idolized.
She is like a candle's flickering flame,
radiating a soft warm light into me.
Her hair was ebony-black
and it tumbled over her shoulders.
Her beauty shines from the inside out,
It flows like a journey down a long route.
Those sugar candy-sweet lips,
her well-designed personality,
all awestruck me.
Her eyes sparkle like a bright star in the sky,
seek out the good in me.
Her body ornately furnished with typically girlish curves,
Her voguish garments still kept enslaved an odor evocative
of lemony fresh and floral-fresh mint.
It loitered in the apartment long after she had gone.
O burgeoning soul of sweet things
mellowed to summer's surge,
with autumn's dim appraisal
loitered to a final song of ditties,
the oozes of eve ferment
my fewest keen-felt purges;
Apollo upon his throne spinning rhyme
wild and weary in his gilded city,
shall he sing thy posy prims
in deep delved halls
with lamenting love on his lips ----
stars his eyes,
moons his garland,
and zephyr, his breath
honeyed in Elven tongues?
How I faint to find my words
whistled in wind,
some blacker beauty in light,
some arrayed longing
begging from dark,
Mountain to moe-hill
in the shades of vales,
the swell of seas
soothed in tinge;
Mother Earth my palette ----
She of rainbow hues
and Bright Stars!
How kingdoms fall harsh,
lidless in forest dim
darkness! darkness!
too barren, too ravished....
naked without even shadow;
shall I clothe thee with wisdom?
Sprinkle thy skin
with the canvas of the heavens?
Steep in the silts of rills
and the leavened soils
of bubbling brooks
drink thy vintage feverish
for the nectar of nightingales
soaked in song
the gods shall push thy pen
prancing, dark winged
as smooth-perched rooks
O wan child fettered and foiled!
thou needed a swifter love all along;
thou canst express with bitter deeds ----
idle words too sober without melody,
a better posy than Shakespeare's?
It was a cloudy sky
Drizzle had just stopped softly
On this enchanting evening, I was lined lucky
As there was an ugly beggar who deserved care, swiftly
I stopped my car before that hotel
where sometime I used to visit for coffee
during my return from office, to home to dwell
Being pose area, side of it were shops selling toffee
I gone straight to that beggar
Enquired what he may desire to eat
He was holding one bit of an used cigar
Face to face, he was not willing to meet
I used to treat deserving beggar with food of his choice
Someone will ask for a particular dish
But this man didn't even raised his voice
Repeatedly I failed when I tried to ascertain his wish
Finally the shopkeeper guided and coded
saying he wanted only a matchbox to light his cigar
When I tried hard to get, every shopkeeper just eluded
As the increased anti-tobacco canvassing had worked clear
The beggar rejected money as well any dish
His world gets filled with just a matchbox
He stood firm and let me only to pish
As I too never keep such item in my toolbox
He loitered and left the place, helpless
Upset with this, I too lost my interest to eat
I also left without eating, as I became useless
Even in bed, with this thought, I felt my heartbeat
I get delighted to treat deserving beggars, stomachful
Or else with alms, to their handful
But above failure led me sorrowful
As I could not be fairly useful
It is the beggar who gives me a chance to serve
Of course, I had heartfully attempted and offered
Altogether, I sincerely strained everyone of my nerve
But he neither cared my efforts nor allowed to be adored
This miserable failure mows me miserably for the past two years
More so, whenever I used to cross that place every day
True to say, my eyes were about to cloud with tears!
What woes remain more for my heart to say?
Copyrights reserved
OLD GREAT GRAND OLYMPIAD Acrostic
Ocean creatures organized overwhelming Olympiad.
Land animals appreciated, approved courtyard.
Dreadful dragons, daredevil dinosaur drunkard.
Great grand gorgeous gone celebration
Rigorous vigorous rattle snake rolled, rang tail- rings.
Elephant arrogant fought haughty hippo, won wrestling.
Aggressive antelope attacked ants, angry ass chased.
Tigers terrified tortoises taking gun, putting paws on triggers.
Grey goat got gold medal galloping on green grass.
Raccoon ragged reindeer ramping running rat race.
All alert expert winners achieved trophies.
Nine naughty notorious narwhales were expelled to neglect rules.
Dear, Donkeys,Dodos, Doves, Ducks were delighted.
Opening orison was displayed by outstanding group of owls.
Lame langur, leopard, lion loitered, leaped on ladder.
Young yeti rode on yellow yak, yawned, yelped.
Mandrill, mammoth, monkey met mouse tickling mermaid.
Peacocks, pigeons, parrots, pelicans proudly participated.
Immodest Incorrigible iguana irritated infant ibex.
Athlete acrobat agitated alligators assembled.
Deaf dumb Dog driving double-decker was declared Champion.
08/21/6
Olympic Mania Contest by Janis Thompson
Written January 17, 2015
I was born to the hunter
I was raised with the sheep
I was brought in with the soldiers
I was told not to fall asleep
I was told not to wonder
What lies on the otherside
Once I was a loner
Loitered around with the stoners
Who sought only to dream
But for the days when their dreams came true
Hand in hand with you
And everyone else who holds these ideals true
But as for now
We lie beneath the boulders
All the rubble that molds us
To stand shoulder to shoulder
With all those who came before words
That made us realize
That we're only a child
In the eyes of time
In reality
We can only hope
To become a spec of dust
In the vacuum of history
I lived on Gray Street when I was a boy
and rode my bike up hither ‘n yon.
Now my home is a concrete parking lot
and all its spirits ‘n souls are gone
I sang at Greyfriars church as a child
and learnt all about moth ‘n rust.
I learnt nothing is permanent or fixed
and it too fell into rubble ‘n dust
I jumped ‘n danced at the Country Club
when fete ‘n revelry came to town.
Music played all night in the dance hall
but its colonial past was torn down
I worked at the old store on Broadway
inside its chain doors ‘n iron cage.
But now it sits a vacant lot condemned
to history lost to a demolition age
I loitered ‘n limed at the Pelican Inn
in my rum diary in younger days.
Up on Coblentz Avenue from its ruins
the inn that stood has been razed
I remember in my grandfather’s house
when voices did echo every room.
Now strangers walk among the dead
and feels more like a family tomb
I feel the reverberation of spirit ‘n soul
that these forsaken places outlast.
But I have watched life ‘n time erase
the bricks ‘n mortar of my past
Written: July 2025