Best Meander Poems
If I let my mind meander -
like a river backwards through time -
past rocks and turbulent waters
and also through the calm times
when the surface of that river was smooth as glass -
I go further back to a time
when my life flowed like a stream,
less complex and rolling on with hope.
Always, though, I end up at the source -
at that place of splendid sweetness
where the water was a clear fresh spring
bursting forth to feed the passion
of a glorious waterfall.
And always I remember you, sweet darling,
as the shimmer of the sunlight
on that fresh and sparkling mountain spring.
April 2, 2017
For More To Me Poetry Contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula
A Renga for Poetry Soup:
Meander
Time and the river
Endless silver morning
Autumn leaves float by
Shimmering streaming mountains
Pines swaying in constant winds
Morning mirror
Another gray hair
Ah! the wind of time
Spring's last daffodil
Plucked for a dinner paty
Diamond blue fragments
Reflecting off stream waters
Another moonrise
Sunset colors disappear
Shooting stars
Campfire sparks
Fresh fish and conversation
Embracing shadows
How many friends have vanished?
Canyon echoes
Retirement time
Facing all the could-have-beens
Tears in whiskey
Quietly at the gravesite
For her long dead daughter
Rolling ocean waves
At the sunset horizon
A ship disappears
Dry pine needles underfoot
In the distance, tolling bells
The sound of a car
Approaching - disappearing
Sleepless night
Between the windowsill plants
A single moth, dry as dust
Cloud shrouded moon
Moire patterns fill the sky
Wandering ghosts
Great grandfather's photograph
Fading before my eyes
Dried flowers
Holding a spider's web
Sunrise
Children building sandcastles
The sound of waves and laughter
The old phonograph
A song from long ago
A shaft of dust-light
Sitting on a redwood stump
A logger counts his wages
Stopping to listen
An unknown bird's mournful song
Fern embroidery
Seeds on the wind drifting by
Tea kettle whistles
In the dazzling sunlight
Achingly white billow clouds
Ring of blue
A drone of mid-day falling
On the autumn wind meadow
A hawk ascending
Call of triumph echoing
A trout in her talons
Smoke from the hermit's cabin
No one remembers his name
Winter rain
The dry emerald brook
Resurrection
Waking from a flight filled dream
Facing the machine filled day
Watching the moon set
Chaotic starshine appears
Orion's embrace
Singing satellites sparkle
Between the winter branches
River of wonder
Filling the child's eyes
Christmas morning
Bright snow on the open field
Melting in the winter thaw
All that I can find
Of the homesteader's church --
The empty window frame
Spring breeze rustling the old tree
The sound of grass and lilacs
The old woman
Serves herself a cup of tea
With her memories
Forest boulder
April rain
We meander off the beaten path,
A veritable sally,
Admiring the flight of lively swallows
Above the green vast valley.
Puffy white clouds form and reform,
Methinks, one looks like a galley.
The twittering birds in perfect harmony,
Look like a rally.
Sheep graze here and there,
How lovely to be able to dilly dally.
We find some rest beneath a shady willow
And steal a kiss from my pretty Sally.
One Kiss? What a poor show,
Finally, I could not keep the tally.
Enchanted and happy,
We just meander back to our alley.
The various versions:
1) The wind teased the waves, diffracting the civil twilight.
A crimson lily has shed some petals, staining the cobblestone path.
Thoughts meander among memories - a fresh headstone in the lee.
2) The gusty wind teased the waves, diffracting the civil twilight.
A red lily has shed some petals, staining the cobblestone path.
Thoughts meander among memories—a fresh headstone in the lee.
3) The gusty wind teased the waves,
diffracting the civil twilight.
A red lily has shed some petals,
staining the cobblestone path.
The sweeping meanders break free—
a fresh headstone in the lee.
skylarks
singing so high,
sweet notes fill a blue sky-
raing melodies upon pastures
of rye
Meander and Great Gander
Writing poems and playing a guitar
My soul never scare or leave a scar
Even though some say I'm a rising star
Love hearing me play from off way far
Poems of my personality are an extension
May remove all of your **** retention
Reading my poems is always so much fun
Until off to bathroom body will have to run
Lately, have you ever heard of humoristic
Like a humorist who has gone ballistic
Behind poems and jokes likely will lurk
Something about a jerk who went berserk
If politically correct and into it must meander
Look at grunting goose behind a big gander
Who cussed after causing a meager mishap
So person behind would step in a pile of crap
James Thomas Horn
www.poetrysoup.com
PS. I'll drink to that
And should've bought a cat.
Also, ho-ho-ho-ho-ho
That was I who told you so.
The gentle river that flows through your fingers
Your untameable spirit that panthers with power
To your subtle flow to oceans of hidden treasure
I surrender on a trickle of a wave to your meander
I dreamt of a blanket that had me warm with desire
It was the yawn of a hippo that soothed me over
I looked for you through the eyes of a crocodile’s hunger
And saw your deep longing for its spiral cover
You opened your mouth to the sea like a snake
Your tail at the horizon ahead, had a rattle to shake
A beautiful sunset along the landscape to shape
A memory of a journey over time and rock to the cape
Here you are finally, by my side, as I sit and ponder
About the tree that your delta inconspicuously anchors
And we end up here, from a shallow stream to ripe peaches,
Surrounded by a gentle breeze atop the highest branches
I walk through the fields of butterflies and start to feel ROSY,
I think of all the s p l e n d o r in my life and I begin to MOSEY-
As I see the little girl pick medallions I start to get NOSY,
so I m e a n d e r towards her and hand her a colorful POSY.
For M-Monorhyme Contest
Sponsor, Broken Wings
April 12, 2017
Unhampered by daunting perfection
Not given to much introspection
Contented with idle reflection
I wander in aimless direction.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Form 'M' Monorhyme
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Placed 4th
© 17th April, 2017
Went To Meander
Marjory Wentworth went to meander;
Took a gander and had to hand her
My poems that with me I did tote
Then she grabbed me by my throat;
No more of my poems can she endure.
James Horn
Marjory Wentworth is Poet Laureate
of South Carolina where poems are
always finer so she said.
The river kicks up its heels in swinging sway and lilt.
Winding downstream in a sinuous snaking stream bed it built
By eroding outer bends, building up its inner bends with silt
Defying the straight and easy path, which like a flippant lover it jilt
I don’t mean to walk away, just to meander
That’s not to say I don’t enjoy your cander
But I refuse to hear your immoral pander
When it starts to mutate into wily slander
I just imagined something so much grander
Of myself than this unobservant bystander
But since your descent down to philander
You are no officer nor my commander
Does she even know your allergen to dander
Or that you love to cook with coriander
I don’t know how you can even stand her
So I hope you enjoy being goose to her gander
I’ll be thinking of someone else, while I meander…..
-- ~ --
I meander past a rippling stream
my hair blowing in the wild wind.
Was that my name being called?
Did it sigh,
in the tangled trees?
I swirl, twirl to bird sounds,
my name but an echo-
MOTHER where are you? Wait!
Wait, wait for me mother!
But only silence sighs in the trees.
I am running, searching, weeping-
Waking in a hospital bed
lost in a sea of pain,
gasping, struggling to breathe.
Moaning- asking how long,
how long was I lost in this dream?
________________________
Re-write from July 12, 2012
(the dream lingers)
know a commander
who does like to meander
throws under hander
Jim Horn
The sensitive brilliance of a lighted flame.
Yet, filled by vitality, will spark and inflame.
I had been ashes, encouraged by your presence.
At first, faint flares, yet before long propel us.
Utterly, we were talented to a calm rumble.
I was interested in the brilliant shade fettle.
Applauds such warm and compassionate eyes.
I don't cognize how you'll harm me in disguise.
Love sprouts as auld as the roses bloom in June.
The gathering happiness under the halcyon moon.
The people of yore wrote in regards to romance.
We were unable to strive to conceal our happiness.
The fire was quenched by nightfall.
Relics degraded to an opulent sprawl.
Written: October 22, 2021