Best Merry Poems
One half is submerged in light,
the other in darkness.
Half says goodnight and the other
tugs the harness.
Kids climb backyard trees tinged
with school bus yellow.
As lovers play hide and seek
in the nighttime meadow.
Training wheels lay abandoned -
youthful eyes bear cornea confidence.
The silver spokes whistle through copper leaves -
once in a lifetime decadence.
August stars say their last farewell
in glorious beelines.
Whilst wrinkled fingers grasp the moon
in delicious daytime.
A woman dressed in white walks down the aisle -
her father proudly flaunts.
As a preacher recites Scripture at a funeral:
The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want...
A newborn's laugh lights the whole world up
with effortless ease.
Whilst a pair of liver-spotted legs
unbuckles its knees.
One takes the first step -
the other reaches the end of the line.
One is a wealth of wisdom -
and the other is a gift divine.
Tiny toes to caress the sand,
ashes to sprinkle in the sea -
as if Nature itself has read aloud
Ecclesiastes Three.
Between the trees tall figures
Sisters hidden by perfect mirrors
Behind shivering trees pale and drawn
Shadows snicker at glories dawn
Fairies draw near flickering sheer petal wings
By quivering glimmer perfect mirrors swing
A verdant sea of cushion ferns and bushes
Admiring absolute spring beauty wishes
A magical playful fairy
Crowning grace
Streaming lace
Clustering ferns trace
Gossamer wings case
A shadow that goes in and out a pearl of merry
11/15/2016
I write when beauties step into my heart
and when the Muse unveils her very art.
I write when to a wonder, my soul leaps
and when the warmest of bliss is spilled heaps.
I write when Nature reigns and sends her scent
and when allured to my Self give vent.
That’s Euterpe of music and beauty
full, overflowing many a ruby.
And when poetry, a gift that beguiles
drifting, with no anchor, into the wilds.
And when in life, breezes merge with the storms
highest Selves emerge above bonds and norms.
And what is to the heart precious and dear
souls would linger in perpetual fear.
Merry pure hearts in the season of youth
friendly warm Spring, a reverie and sooth.
March 8th, 2019
I wish you a Merry Christmas to all
Across the long distance of many miles
From shining stars to the sparkling snowfall
I wish for you presents of many smiles
And soothing bells ringing for you to hear
Across the long distance of many miles
For joy to surround you and warmth to be near
Colorful lights to brighten what you see
And soothing bells ringing for you to hear
A sense of inspiration, filled with glee
Smooth as a sleigh ride on a peaceful night
Colorful lights to brighten what you see
I wish for you contentment with each sight
Candles to be lit with hope to ignite
Smooth as a sleigh ride on a peaceful night
Love surround you in a halo of light
I wish you a Merry Christmas to all
Candles to be lit with hope to ignite
From the shining stars, to the sparkling snowfall
Heidi Sands
12/21/19
Christ was born
a seed corn
the firstborn
Snow on snow
early morn
gracious glow
Christmas long
all adorn
joyful song
20/12/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
3-Cubed Christmas Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
howmanysyllables.com - 27 syllables
6th place in the contest
Robin treated his men down at the inn
To sexy wenches, food, mead and some gin
All got drunk on the mead
Then got high on the weed
Friar Tuck said “it’s not right it’s a sin.”
Robin’s outlaws were enjoying the night
And with the sheriffs men started a fight
The men ran for their lives
There was lots of high fives
The peasants cheered at this comical sight.
Written 31st January 2019
For limerick 3 contest
Sponsored by Joseph May.
You seduced, you stole, you exalted, you annihilated,
You elevated, you decimated, you connected, you sucked me dry,
You opened me up, you closed me down,
You delivered me to ecstasy, you devalued and discarded me,
You were sensual, you were sardonic,
You made my heart smile, you tore out my soul,
You put me on a marble pedestal, you stoned me with your vicious tongue,
You bathed my heart in liquid gold, you buried me in quick sand,
You crowned me as your princess, you burnt me at the stake,
You were my prophecy, you were my satan,
Your hands knew every inch of me,
You tore out my essence and trampled my boundaries,
You pledged unity only with me, you cheated,
You held me tightly in your arms, you suffocated the life out of me,
You cast, you hooked, you netted, you feasted,
You made every nerve ending shiver deliciously,
You became my nervous breakdown, you were my divine intervention,
You disconnected me from my higher power,
You were luminous, you illuminated, you are an illusion.
You loved and yet you didn't.
Because love is real. And you are not.
It’ll be an old fashioned Christmas,
with Santa due down the chute.
I bet he Purells his reindeer,
and Lysols his hazmat suit.
It’s an old fashioned Christmas.
We’ll all have on our masks,
and our muffled yuletide carols,
will be just like seasons past.
We’ll observe all the guidelines.
We’ll eat six feet apart.
We’ll have disinfectant under the mistletoe,
and keep safety in our hearts.
Sure, it’s an old fashioned Christmas.
One unique to the times.
The love this year might be careful,
but the feelings are genuine.
Merry Christmas and Happy holidays to all my soup friends
It’s been a challenging year and hope the pandemic soon ends
Hope you are all healthy and happy and not feeling too blue
We all enjoy the flavors of soup until someone stirs up the stew
Jan still entertains with her masterpieces and poems about poo
Mark’s words continue to protect us with his wise poems so true
Constance writes many beauties with creative heartfelt lines
Victor never disappoints with his romantic poems so divine
Andrea and Gina, enjoy a good challenge, their poems are on point
Alexis’s, Anne-Lise's and Maureen’s poems never disappoint
Ed, Paul, Tom, Charles and Richard add nice flavors and spice
It's a pleasure to read their soup poems, fancy words to entice
Jenna is a talented newbie; her words warm up the soup
I am so grateful for the support of many in this group
I hope for a happy and healthy new year for you all
Let's keep writing, being supportive while having a ball!
My poem would be pages to name every one I enjoy on the site
You are not forgotten and your poems are gems of pure delight
There are many more names not listed that I appreciate and adore
Keep writing your poems, adding to the soup and season it more
Merry Christmas to all my Poetry soup friends
Thanks for all the kind support that never ends
Your contests are a jump start to my sleepy muse
Haiku, rhyme, free verse, it’s fun to choose
Dear heart writes magnificent poems of melancholy blues
Lin writes masterpieces expressed with beautiful colorful hues
Jan’s limericks are fun, hilarious and sometimes very bawdy
Victor’s beautiful touching poems should be read by everybody
Chris writes heart felt poems full of romance and love
Greg B writes volumes, talent expressed way above
Charlie can write poems that are fun and serious too
Andrea writes great poems, her talent shines through
Emil, Alexis, Eve, Heidi, and WW keep adding talented gems
Richard’s poems help us see the world through a different lens
Ed writes spirited poems and his contests are creative
Anne-Lise writes poems that are sometimes innovative
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all of you
Thanks for the all the support and encouragement too
I will keep writing and adding my poems to the soup
I enjoy all your poems from such a talented group
The Merry Minstrel of Mickleover
I strike this chord without a sword
For I am not so brave
Whence came a knight with armour bright
Who vowed princess to save
The wicked sire of the shire
Had seen well to kidnap
The daughter of the king and bring
Much wealth into his lap
Handsome he thought the ransom
The king was sure to pay
For fear his precious princess dear
The wicked sire would slay
From his abode the knight he rode
Through wind and rain and storm
O’er hill and dale and muddy trail
His quest to keep him warm
The castle wall it looked so tall
Impregnable in height
Banged on the door and yet once more
His iron fist with might
The surly sire quoths to enquire
“Who raps upon my door”
“Tis mystery, now set her free
Or death you’ll lay before”
With lunge and slash with swords they clash
Upon the open plain
Died his desire there in the mire
As evil sire is slain
The princess freed from needless greed
Sort knight to gift reward
“Place in my hand just thine hair band
If this please thy accord”
( The minstrels song lived large and long
Was sung all o’er the land
Where ‘ere he been could still be seen
Rebec ‘dorned with blue band )
Rebec; A medaeval violin type instrument
Mickleover; A village in Derbyshire, England
Though now a suburb of the City of Derby
The residents still refer to it as ‘The Village’
For Medaeval Idealism Contest
Sponsor, Isaiah Zerbst
Adventures of Robin Hood and his Merry Men.
No1.
Robin’s Thick Member
We wuz out huntin that day
Ah remembers as plain as can be
When a ansome buck came us way
Fust to shoot was me mate Unlucky
Now that buck he just looked in us faces
With an air of his royal decree
Displayin his arrogunt graces
At the arra there stuck in the tree
Ah says, “Robin, he won’t be best pleased
At missin his dinner agen
Your damn good at arrain trees
An pissin off his merry men”
If we goes back to camp with no meal
That maid, she will giv us sum stick
She’ll shove us sum manky old veal
An the merry men will all be sick”
Then Unlucky he says that he saw
Over there be-ind the rockery
A big ol boy of a boar
But his arra, yes, it foun a tree
Stood Marion with expectation
The night would be one great party
But after me grand explanation
We was whipped a foot up from the knee
Then Robin “Unlucky”, he says
“You’s a poor shot as all us can see
If that buck agen inter view strays
Just bloomin well aims fer the tree.
Coz averages seem to dictate
You could bag that buck if you tried
If only you’d concentrate
An wern’t so bloody cross eyed”
So Unlucky he thinks to his sen
I’ll show them a thing or two
That big head an his stinky men
Will be dinin on best red deer stew
Once more he foun his sen afore
That deer who was showin no fear
He watched as his arra did soar
Past that grinnin bucks twitchin left ear
But wait, that buck he was down
His hooves in the air on his back
The arra that just missed his crown
Had given him sheer heart attack
He was cheered when he got back to camp
An the night became one great party
With a bow he was proclaimed a champ
An no longer known as Unlucky.
When the fall came we knew everything had changed. Whispers through the Aspens became a shrill voice of winters warning. He was changing like the seasons. They didn’t understand it at first but it became more apparent as time went on. The old man was tied to a cycle and that cycle was the changing of the seasons. In the fall he was anticipatory and melancholy. Sometimes irritable and other times reflective of his life. He had lived here for 20 years. Twenty years in a nursing home…who would do that to a man? But he took it all in and lived on despite the wrongs done to him. He was usually a gentlemen but he had his temper and God hope you weren’t working that shift. Christ. But as time went along he came and went and we all got used to the cycle. And he didn’t seem to notice. He had cancer and it was going to kill him. Sooner or later. He was working on later.
He used to say, “There is a spring that flows eternal, and I am swimming in that spring." He told us he would out live all of us and see us in that spring if we were good people. I’m not sure how good or bad I am but I would like to see him in that spring, if only for moment in time.
I can’t do it anymore. I can’t go and see the old man. He's almost gone and I don’t know what say to him. Brown tobacco stains run down his chin and he’s all dressed up on like them old people. It hurts me. It really hurts me. He is my future and my end and my beginning. It’s a cycle that was invented by a sadist. But he lives on. And I think of that spring and wonder when I will be swimming in it one day. Will I see him and all my children? Will I be able to locate my dogs? I hope so. For living on earth is heaven but crossing the river and getting to the other side in one whole piece must be paradise. I pray for those around me. And I hope that I have not done too much wrong that will keep me in this dark place I loath.
MERRY CHRISTMAS*
M-Miraculously
E-Ecstatic
R-Reveille
R-Regenerating
Y-Yuletide
C-Christ’s
H-Heavenly
R-Righteous
I-intervention
S-Stirring
T-Towards
M-Man’s
A-Assured
S-Salvation
© Demetrios Trifiatis
20 DECEMBER 2013
*Merry Christmas to you and to your families my friends!
May the newborn Christ guide and protect all of you!
There Are A Thousand Treasures Of Kings
Worth More, Than All The Wealth, There Could Be !
Some Say, It’s In A Kingdom Of Dreams
Others Say, It’s As Real As You & Me
The Legend Says, There’s A Kingdom Of Love
In A Kingdom, Far Away & Above
Kings-Treasures, To Be Claimed By The Best
Those Worthy Of Courage, To Quest
& So, This Is Where I’ll Start, My Friend,
Tho’, This Isn’t Where The Real Tale Begins
You See, There Was A Merry Band Of Adventurers
Who Went On A Quest, As Treasure-Gatherers
There Was Moses, The Freedom-Circle-Rider
Stayed His Course, Like An Eagle-Glider
There Was Goff, The Monk Of Sky and Trees
His Visions Of Life, Were As Open As Doors With Keys
There Was Kendricks, The Keeper Of ‘Interesting’ Tracks
& Marty, Of The Hale & Hearty & Power-Pen Pack
There Was Adell of Deep Wells … & Dio, The Devoted
& Dame Brown Of Mountain-Ground, So Sweetly-Noted
There Was An Irish Lass, O’Leary Of Laughter
& The Golden Daughter Of Grace & Audrey Of Gifted-Banter
& Devonshire, The Dove & Highlander Of Heather-Cove
Of First To Join Search: For Soup & Treasure-Trove
Of Course, We Have A Prince Of Passion Land
& Ismael, A Dream-Merchant From His Own Island
The Prince, Paints Of Pleasures; The Islander Speaks of Treasures
Both Know Of Biggest Royal Cache That We Could Ever Measure !
There Came Tim, The Archer Of The Wit-Forest
& A Determined Mother with Son, The Lady Doris
Maid Adams, Who Teaches How To Keep Cold Away
& The Lightning-Voice Of Linda Marie, Keeps Wolves At-Bay
There Is Sir Lamoureu of Sir Lancelot's Order
He Wields Words In Articulate Axes & Armor
And To Those Who Dare Say Chivalry Is Dead ...
Is Because -The Sonnets of Sir Lamoureu, They Have Not Read
& The Legendary Language That Sir Lamoureu Pledge
Then There's Lady Linda, A Chatelaine & A Poet Destroyer
But She Only Versus The Verses of The Vanity Voyeurers
Her Skill With Quill Accurately Quite Accords
As Proof of Pens Being Mightier Than Swords
We Have A Pretty Elf Known As Anne Lise Andresen
Her Piquant Topics of Poetry Makes Her Our Taliesin
And We Have Our Very Own Kind Maid Merryman
She Transports Adventures Better Than A Ferryman
Part 1 of 2