Best Matronly Poems
My flower
My precious flower
The flower that gave out many flowers
Flowers including me.
You were my flower
Yes, the mother flower
The flower that withered without been sick.
I knew one day we might depart
You first or me
But I never thought of you
Just departing so fast, so easily, so silently
Without a good bye..!
you were not old; Matronly beautiful
You marked the beauty of our world
you made the scent of our garden
The light of our heaven.
I always prayed for you to wait a little
Just few minutes to see me grow
I dreamed you to enjoy my flowers
The new garden I'm creating from my seeds.
I wanted you to mentor the little roses of mine
How to be beautiful in and out
How to be beautiful forever.
Why you choose not to wait a little?
Why you just go that way?
What grub made you shrivel?
What Pupa withered you so fast?
Tell me...
Who should I blame then...
you or the creator of the chrysalis?
I just don't know
For sure, my heart will be sick forever.
Categories:
matronly, morning,
Form:
Elegy
FOGGY NIGHT ©
The white orb, saturated with
tidal flows, peers through the
veil.
A ghost ship slips up the fog
laden channel.
Night gulls. sing with strident cries
fog seeps in, the tide rolls out,
day is gone, the night creeps on.
Trees, dressed in ebony, drift by.
Water glistens, gold and wet.
Edges blurred night is soft and
tender, damp seeps into cloth,
hair, bone.
Tents of light spread over the
foggy landing.
Hunters of the sea know not day
nor night, fishers all,
white feathers stark against the
darkest shadows.
Palm trees, silhouetted in
ochre gauze, black brushes hard
with paint.
Pilings sway, their waists cinched
with rope.
Matronly sentinels, the craft finds
the woody bosom.
Trisha Sugarek
Butterflies and Bullets
Categories:
matronly, metaphor, moon, night, sea,
Form:
Free verse
Halloween Moon Crabs
A tide rises to leave behind hundreds of tossed colourful halloween moon crabs to stroll
Craving social connections like homeless souls furtively hunting their unsown roots
Celtic calendar hides matronly lunar freeing guised children and bodiless souls
Five more years for the halloween moon, till then crabby purple claws in orange suits
October10, 2015
Contest: Halloween Moon
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Form: Quatrain
Categories:
matronly, color, malayalam, moon, night,
Form:
Quatrain
Small furry, stripy, cuddly puss makes
Lots of noise as the early dawn breaks
And so the reluctant household wakes.
“Get out of bed now,
Come down and feed us for all our sakes,
We’re on our last miaow.”
The household can but do as it’s told,
This tabby cat is exceedingly bold.
So from my bed and into the cold
I creep to provide
The feline breakfasts as I was told,
With some milk beside.
This tabby cat is plump and quite cute,
Bossy and nurse-like, a real old boot,
Her every whim always bears fruit,
She bustles about.
She’s Hattie Jacques in a tabby suit,
Matronly with clout.
Her fur is sleek, her voice is sublime
What will she be like given more time?
Her bossy manner isn’t a crime.
Sometimes she holds back.
Her friend, an alpha cat in his prime
Is leader of the pack.
Categories:
matronly, cat, humorous, cat, ,
Form:
Free verse
The colors in your sweater
do not grow here
but bloom without regard
in the mirror of your cheeks
We ran with arching strides
through seas of igneous poetry
written for our electric white lashes
Our layers of sturdy bone
And yes, there were times
we nearly escaped the snap of the metallic sky
the same confessor
behind matronly curtained hills
the only words to tie me here
are the mouthful that rattle my cup
yet I can always paint myself
miles deep beneath this anchor
Categories:
matronly, childhood, nature
Form:
Quatrain
Unmeant meanings
Words keep watch
their eyes in the empty spaces
fingers feel their unformed faces
Can words mean what they were not meant for all by
theirnonselves
even if they come clothed in nonentity
cuneiforms hieroglyphics ideophonograms
strokes signs signals sounds shapes silences squiggles squares squirms suctions squirts scuds screams squelches screeches screams or sickening sobs
words sum up fix errant thoughts
speak for all
though in tongues without jousting knights
errancy will not lead to errantry
Only the blind conceive their shape form posture
the staid but rumbunctious music of stilled hieroglyphs
the pliability of ideograms caressed down rice paper
their squiggly strands
the self-effacing hand-and-foot maidens
of matronly phrases
some leaning awry
the calligrapher’s trembling hand
all all straining upright
the custodians of invested stock
foot-stools of pouting poets
the sum-total of coveted currencies
exchanged stock variables
Who would be hurt knifes himself
with meaningless words
who would laugh
breaks out into song
the sing-song stress and accent of vowels round and strong
learns wayward steadfastness
with his words
with words
with the word
with the world of wonder in
always willing and wilful words
April 23, 1997
From the privately-pub. coll. (re-worked 2016): longhand notes (a binding of poems), Paris: 1999, 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Categories:
matronly, imagery, meaningful, music, song,
Form:
Free verse
Life is a combination of different strata and classes
with the upper classes feeding on the states of the lower
which is the usual, displayed in most societies and cultures
and such a web between nations even more complex and sticky.
The developed massively profits on the developing
sustaining such a system for the affluent to stay powerful.
Pressing situations persist within their borders
but that of other nations becomes a meat and potatoe issue
while their greed stays a correspondent
to growing territories without a good sight.
They are obese hypocrites seeking for malnourished sycophants
promoting democracy but stabbing its legs in struggling communities
if propagation of governance isn’t favourable to their selfishness.
Merchandise and production from below becomes contraband
to tense such economies and make them perspire
even if a little consideration is reluctantly offered,
the controlled global markets will still sustain the toppers
feeding the climbers with crumbs to soften their bones.
Heavy makeup is the painting on their wealthy faces
to attract the scanty seedlings of the insufficient future cultivation of others
putting growth under a miasma of depression
to militate against economic and political independence.
Nevertheless, a stranger can only manipulate a home
if foolishly allowed to exhibit some level of command.
A major fertilizer to this trending cause
is laxity and mediocrity on the part of the sufferer
which has got so matronly to need meals on wheels
Categories:
matronly, adventure, africa, america, passion,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Diminishing virtues stripped away
From the flesh
By the fierce brined rods that freely
Course thy hot crimson blood;
Dry cracked lips attempting to
Fashion broken words of compliance
That so must needs to be spoken...
But...Ohhh, Meretrix...
My foolish and innocent child -
If you but only could!
Consider, Meretrix,..humility!
To which pleasure one thus
Submitted
Guiltily discovers:-
The joy in the act or posture of
Lowering oneself in relation to
Others.
For in your anguished dis-repair
You will find strength to endure and
Embrace:-
The acceptance of all your defects
And ultimate seduction
In the power of your:-
"Submission to Divine Grace"!
I will adorn you in the yellow Toga
Of the Vestal virgins,
They whom wise Augusta did abhor;
Burden upon you with an Imperial
Tax
Imposed by perverted Caligula:
Whither all Matronly protestations he
Didst dismissively ignore;
My Tribune forcefully exact -
When employing you in the
Degenerated role
Of my most reluctant Whore!
Clasp jeweled anklets abouts your
Shapely bones,
Decorate upon you like fired and
Painted porcelain figurines;
Whilst all the while, as your lost mind
Bemoans,
Choking between involuntary gurgles
And low-pained, stifled screams,
The gagged mouth bites down
Amidst salivating sounds
Borrowed from the hurtling
Nightmares
Of your darkest dreams!
For I will lift you higher than the
Tallest mountain peak...
So you may gaze with awe over all
The innumerable Kingdoms and their
Proud tyrant Kings;
Of the many differing species of all
Mankind type things...
And of the immeasurable riches
They so endlessly seek.
Lower you to the solitudes of the
Grassed floors
That sweep across the sunken
Valleys deep;
Where, besides enchanted streams,
Violated Nymphs quietly weep
For Abels broken schemes;
Now, tragically, all taken apart;
And for the wicked callousness
Of fallen man...
Whose desperate greeds ripped out
His live brothers still beating heart -
Then tore at the living throat of
The one true Gods Holy Lamb!
TO BE CONTINUED...
Categories:
matronly, philosophy,
Form:
Rhyme
Elegant
Reliable
Matronly
Adorable
Worthy
Indifferent
Loyal
Loving
Energetic
Non-judgmental
Entertaining
Never sad
Endless love
Wonderful
Educated
Level-headed
Lovely
Categories:
matronly, death, family, life, loss,
Form:
Name
Rome was always a playground for me,
Where lovely girls thronged around the streets:
The Fontana dei Trevi where people threw coins
Hoping they would revisit enchanting Rome,
Or on the Spanish stairs amid the delicate flowers
Exuding fragrant perfumes of purple roses,
Delicate dianthus or scented-leaf geraniums.
There she sat, alone upon one of the steep stairs,
Licking a vanilla ice-cream and sipping a lemonade.
We looked hard at each other and we both smiled
It was passionate attraction magnitude nine.
Who can escape the wonder of a sexy love?
Losing no time we went for a walk until soon
We were kissing on the ramparts of Rome,
Watching the sunset and making our erotic plans.
Her name was Helga and bound to leave next day,
To go back to her home in faraway Berlin.
“Come with me love, we’ll never part,” she crooned,
“We’ll drink plenty coffee in my Berlin.”
How could I miss an idyllic invitation like that?
Alas I knew full well I did not have the fare
To travel with my newly found goddess of love
To go far away, to live with her in West Berlin.
A plan was needed, if courage I had,
To go to the Parioli where the rich lived.
Surely it would be child’s play, I thought
To enter and help myself to a handful of wealth,
Just enough to accompany my love to Berlin.
Round a corner a stately darkened villa stood.
Should be a simple job to rifle the lot,
Assuming I could find an easy door unlocked.
I tiptoed in and hastened up the path.
Alas fortune was not on my side that day.
I heard the ominous sharp whistle of an alarm.
I turned and ran but the Doberman was quick
And bit my tender behind till it bled.
Soon I found myself in a nasty smelling ER,
With sutures repairing the nasty bite.
“Three days in bed, my boy,” the matronly nurse said.
“Rest face down for the wound to heal,
And keep the curtains drawn.” Thus snickering she left.
Helga departed forever more and I lay face down in bed
Crying from pain and cursing my bad luck,
Instead of making love in the city of Berlin.
Categories:
matronly, love,
Form:
Free verse
I met Elizabeth
during my flirtation with English Literature in 1963.
Another lesbian,
pretty blonde with
soft hands and beautiful legs.
I used to pick up Elizabeth
at the counselling center
where she was trying to be cured.
When the university found her out
they hinged expulsion on her success.
I fell passionately
in love with Elizabeth
with all my post adolescent yearning,
the feel and the look of her.
She allowed me her company
and the freedom to dream.
Her father owned an
automobile dealership in Baltimore.
Well-to-do. I could never meet their expectations.
Part of a disguise for her parents,
she knew I wasn't very good at it.
I followed Elizabeth
doggedly and drove her
where she wanted to go.
When she looked for a job
after she left college,
I drove her from office to office.
An editorial job in a small business magazine,
I was glad when she came out beaming.
Elizabeth had been interviewed by love,
She and the matronly magazine owner
immediately set up housekeeping together.
I could have been a friend to both but I melted.
Elizabeth never wrote me letters.
Categories:
matronly, emotions, memory, romance, ,
Form:
Free verse
Montague Middleton’s matronly mother made marvellous munchy meringues
Montague Middleton’s most massive midriff made many a menu mistake
Montague Middleton met many maidens; Mother made mincemeat of most
Montague Middleton’s mother maintained, “Men mustn’t marry Miss ‘Fake’.”
Montague Middleton met Molly Milton, many men ‘met’ Molly more
Montague Middleton married Melissa; so many mad moans Molly made
Montague Middleton’s most massive mansion made more modest mansions mundane
Montague Middleton moved Molly in, making Molly both mistress and maid
Montague Middleton’s missus made many mouthwatering munchies
Montague Middleton’s missus made Monty’s mouth moisten most days
Montague Middleton’s missus met Molly, mentioning marital meddling
Montague Middleton’s mischievous mistress mocked Melissa’s malaise
So:
Montague Middleton murdered his missus
Montague Middleton married his mistress
But:
Montague Middleton made a mistake
For Montague Middleton’s mistress
Can’t bake
Categories:
matronly, humor, marriage,
Form:
Alliteration
Who's that swell-dressed, well-developed lady
Struttin' round the old North Pole?
Well, bless my soul!
That's Mrs. Santa.
You'd hardly recognize her.
Lookin' like a million-dollar baby,
Heatin' up the cold North Pole.
Back in control,
That's Mrs. Santa.
She's had a transformation.
She was always short and plump but pretty,
Matronly, a "six" at best.
But after just a month in New York City,
She came back slenderized,
And glamorized,
And tantalizing as Ms. Mae West.
Now they're doin' fine up there in their icy palace
Where she outshines the aurora borealis,
And Santa's one happy gent,
In debt, but more than content
That it was money well-spent
To reinvent Mrs. Santa.
Categories:
matronly, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
A kiss… A kiss… What is a kiss?
Depends on whom you ask.
Some can be just wonderful.
Then, some can be a task.
Soft, loving lips taste so sweet
To lovers when they meet.
But, matronly aunts and little boys...
It takes acrobatic feats.
When one is just a kisser
And the other just the kissed,
It seems to me there is to be
So much that is missed.
When one is just a kisser
And the other just the kissed
One cannot really hope to find
That often promised bliss.
One eager set of lips cannot
Complete what’s called a kiss.
If two, it takes to tango
Then one cannot do this.
So, if you think it’s blissful
To give someone a kiss
When two are really trying
You’ll discover what you’ve missed.
Categories:
matronly, parody,
Form:
Rhyme
Once upon an aging mosquito
of healing time,
There was an ancient heroic farmer
not unlike Hercules
if he had lived too long
redressed
and sometimes addressed
as green Goddess Gaia,
Feeling uncomfortable in matronly vampire farming drag
and yet, what to do,
sooner or later
some story will require a transgender vampire
growing up a mature mosquito
still hoping to become
a more cooperative Herculean Farmer
for Future HealthTribes of America.
Farmers of nurturing blood,
of course,
a Robin GaiaHood
of and for all wounded and wounding Mosquitoes
and their outdoor victim allies ten-toed
all following WinWin preferred instructions
from DNA's original fractal
Green RNA spirals
restoring eco-justice advocates--
green peace Herculean heroes
and vampire heroines.
Blood
like heroin for mosquito vampire Pirates
stealing from inhumanely rich organic ships,
walking and running toward our vampire hero's
shadowed nights.
Nightmare BigShips who got away
harvest stations
for WinWin mosquito farmers
praying and preying and praising and pining
passing in warm summer's romantic nights
with transgender heroic parental pretensions,
intentions
sacred ecological intuitions
to co-redeem blood justice
to revive PositivEnergy organic networks
of mosquito flying
vampire Future Angels
harvesting and replanting
Once Upon a VampireFarmer
rode Gaia's GreenGoddess
husbanding Ego-EcoTherapy.
Categories:
matronly, age, farm, fear, health,
Form:
Political Verse