Best Mellowed Poems
Soft, subtle and sublime
Fragrance of mellowed bloom
Whisper of fallen leaves
Warmth of the subdued sun
Innocence all-around
Enthralling silence
Filling the heart
Not wild, not loud
Just cozy and quit
Nature’s symphony
With idyllic notes
Mild, magical and serene
Song of golden leaves
Enhancing the melody
Nature’s equipoise
Ardor and ambience
Restrain and moderation
Introversion and quietude
A candid self-reflection
Of dignity inspiring me
To merge with myself
The long day's closing
She sheds her soft robe, red, gold
As night blankets day
MELLOWED MEMORIES
Wish we were just married, my trusting
head upon your shoulder.
When we had so little,
Yet.... so very much.
And we seemed to have
truly, the magic touch.
Watching the fog, lift its
cover each dawn,
Like a deer, wakes each morning,
waking her precious fawn.
Really, we had so very little to eat.
But nonetheless we walked to Nortn Beach,
to be with other poets for a Capachino treat.
The San Francisco streets welcomed us.
We were enraptured of the hills!
Life, and the sheer glory of ...
Riding a shiny, orange, Muni bus!
7/18/2021
…2…
Blended in the world outside I breathe,
inside my heart distant waves seethe
awaiting a tranquil recluse to sprout,
in silver shells bubbling roundabout.
In quietude they peep into my slumber,
spreading over my parched blank umber.
They rush into my mind wings to fly,
taking me to the zenith in blue sky.
A land of my thoughts draped in words,
my muse chirping to soar with birds.
I hear a velvet mellow enchanting me,
twinkling pearls as stars in ecstasy.
Imaginations, dreams, hopes and love
emotions of an innocent white dove,
the waves of my muse engulf my flow,
my pen weaves words in a blessed glow.
A secret island of lush green trees
where I wander in the soothing breeze,
when my ink dries up I sleep in peace,
my muse is a scent my dreams release.
Written on July 26, 2020
N/A in Muse Poetry Contest Judged on July 29, 2020
Submitted for N-A Rerun 10 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
~Winner: 2nd Place
What a change
From bouncy, bubbly and vivacious
To determined, devoted and dedicated
More than ever
Reassuring, soothing and caring
Pious and profound
The serene figure with large persona
From autumn aromas to Spring bloom
From silent nights to morning choir
Mild, soft and oblivious of herself
Flowing from one room to another
The cool breeze of devotion and care
The selfless soul, bereft of comfort
Merging herself with unending chores
Fifty years gone like a whisper
Time changed into history
Oblivion ruled and embraced all
Entering into the body and mind
Of a dire and distinct man
Spending herself at the altar of
Commitment, tradition and destiny
Still solo and undiffused, but mellowed
She is the inevitable guest in my life
Keeping inside her bosom
The treasure of olden days
With grown up children
Gone to their destinations
The lady ethereal always sings inside me
The stones on the patio are weathered
and ground, and the door that creeks
welcomes. The ceiling was measured
for other times, other heights,
and the floor is used to heedful steps.
Old tables and chairs disarm fashion,
have a style of their own:
haute couture of past culture,
their vogue is vintage.
I can live with the broken vase
which was worth repairing.
It knows the meaning of longevity
and in it the cut chrysanthemum
refuses to fade.
Those pans were new once,
they knew once the taste of mint,
but since have aged and mellowed.
Noblest of all are those objects in wood
whose handles have felt
the favour of oft-use.
Their polish reflects the palm.
I favour the works of the past,
the time-worn customs and lore of folk
whose venerable hearts
know the meaning of bosom.
I am a collector of dents in copper,
of meaningful scratches in tin;
grooves, furrows and notches
that count the years;
and faint wounds
that objects keep hidden within.