Best Miss Poems
listen,
the whispers
of leaves
turn colour
autumn is here.
now that you are gone
who will wake every morn
to lift the sun
unveil the sky
etch in the clouds
who will paint the rainbow?
i had a dream and in the dream i wove you a poem
i used the fiber of my character to create spools of silken thread
dipped in the juices of my passion i dyed them in the colors of my imagination
re-enforced each and every single strand with the strength of my love
touch,
the echoes
of the rain
- waters
- blossoms spring.
now that 'us' is just a word
no longer with you as one
i alone wind up metal toys
cut out paper dolls
the beach swept from under my feet
the child in me flees.
spun spools from the intricacy of my spirit
designed a pattern
to the rhythm
of the music
of my inner thoughts
enamoured in your vision
crystal beads gather on my brow
as i toil your finely bred gift
as i braid every part of me
with every memory
into every sliver of fabric
taste,
uncut
snow shapes
crisp cold
ices the wintertide.
instead now rusted
a fools gold chain of loneliness
hangs around my neck like a noose
mourns a union that once had breath
a twosome that now is dead.
see,
the sand sculptures
paint
rekindle
a childhood summer
past.
sew in the loving glow emits my flawless dreams
with my boiling blood initial my woven piece
my work at an end i awake
you lay there a wingless angel asleep
smiling as if you heard a bell ring
your boundless warmth embraces me
the moon no longer smiles
the stars no longer wink
smell,
seasonal airs
stimulates senses
memories they deliver.
without a touch
barely - i kiss you.
in this
my decade of one
hope is a wickless candle
the night just day without light
in the glee,
hopes and dreams,
in the human spirit,
lives the miracle of life.
magnificent
voices in every pitch
deep and resounding,
the melody of echoes and whispers – uncut.
Jan 4 2017
With Love
Armand
I still remember
how you were
there in the dark,
holding my
bleeding heart.
Whilst I wandered,
sleepless under
soundless spheres.
Now I search
for your starlit
symphony
that echoes,
as idyllic octaves,
from the last song
you sang for
our lost youth;
demons we fought,
when colorless dusks
abandoned me,
between tuneless
sheets of emptiness,
where citrine gold
streaked wavelets of
strawberry scented
sunrise and
amethyst sunset
composed
hibiscus hymns.
But when ink
within my soul
hides behind
pomegranate lies,
that I truly despise,
amidst crimson-clawed
chaos of cluttered
calligraphy,
crawling in silence
along cursive linings
carved in
psychedelic perianths ~
can you hear
my pleas vibrating
through unwritten lyrics,
scrawled in
seaweed green?
Some melodies need
no words nor voice,
to narrate noiseless
refrains of
endless loss,
orchestrated
from seraphic
strings—
whistling
peacock promises,
that linger
within my
violet blue veins,
coated with
helium love.
And even in
death,
you and I
will forever,
remain as
immortal kins—
like the
evening moon
and the
midnight sun,
chasing
dewberry daydreams,
fructified from sage
mint roots,
waltzing to
your perfumed
presence in
the elysian castle.
I will never stop
singing our soft
cotton serenades,
even if the blackest
of stones from the
greyest hail quartz,
dimmed the
sangria seas
that ripples deep
into the shimmering
gates of your
home above
the seven skies.
between the plant pots and the trays
the cobwebs had seen better days
and for all the wood and damp and soil
the smell was one of paint and oil
as flies and wasps lying in state
were curled up past their fly-by-date
and nails and screws and metal hooks
shared space on shelves with brewery books
beneath a clock with broken hands
where time stood still amongst the cans
and jam jars full of pip-like seeds
stood next to things that no one needs
and while her tears had stained the glass
that looked out on the unkempt grass
upon the floor amid the mess
..a letter
and her wedding dress.
I sure miss the old hymns of ages past.
With tattered edges their message still lasts.
Those five stanza’d jewels I know by heart--
“The Sweet By and By” and “How Great Thou Art!”
And “Count Your Blessings,” I love that one, too.
And “This World’s Not My Home, I’m Just Passing Through.”
But when I’ve done wrong and need to get right,
There’s “Just As I Am” and “Why Not Tonight.”
I swear I can hear my folks who have gone,
on “Vict’ry in Jesus,” they sing along.
Someday all the saints will stand and join in
As Heaven’s choir sings those songs once again.
Those old, yellowed pages worn soft by tears—
Oh how I miss the songs of yesteryear.
August 22, 2022
It starts with only one -
one like me
a melancholy migrant
from the immortal part of her
to the locus of her physical being --
the center of her emotional wisdom
I gain heartfelt strength as I gather my forces
rising up en masse
riding cresting waves of woe
to breach the ramparts -
the welling rims
of her loving eyes
it starts with only one -
one perfectly ripened drop of sorrow
this beautifully packaged pain
and a lustrous cascade of soulful pearls ensues
wept gems pouring forth from a pure heart..
I am the tears your mother cries.
Susan Ashley
May 5, 2018
~ Poem Of The Week ~
Week beginning Sunday, May 13, 2018
~ Seventh Place ~
Contest: Early May Premiere (2018)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Poet's note; For my beautiful daughter, Jocelyn, you inspire me with your light, joy, spirited determination and intellect. Though your academic pursuits take you many, many miles away from me and I grieve your absence, when you return home I shall celebrate with tears of joy!
For today, however, I'll let my grieving tears speak for themselves...
I love you and I miss you, my Jocee <3
Not with my arms but with a heart
that blesses your reveries, may peace reside
within your chest... is it possible to love you
less? Perhaps allow the sun to brush your hair
in the luminescence of dawn?
Even autumn envies you as white light
moves with your scent and possesses
your laughter never to be mine again in times
of harvest or falling rain…
and from stars above, may your eyes
remember our blades of grass
while I half-close the damp field of memorials
creaking on the burial of a resting place
that finds me kneeling, wailing, asking
how time can drown our adventures
much too soon...
as I stumble upon this cruel, bruised night
I forgot myself today
as melancholic melodies
overwhelm each beat
of my wandering heart.
The sanctimonious sun deceives
as a bitter breeze breathes
against sullen silent surfaces.
Recycled emotions penetrate
with a repetition of deep sighs.
My spiritless soul strays, but is
happy to be lost in lyrical lament.
As the Nightingale chants its
continuous regretful resonance,
the tip of my tongue aches
to whisper your amorous name, but
holds back knowing you can't hear.
Without your enchanted vision,
neglected eyes perish.
Without your perfumed presence,
senses remain scentless.
Without your tender touch,
fragile petals won't blossom.
As a cascade of sandcastle emotions
infiltrate stubborn sierra barriers.
Violent tears erupt,
demolishing hardened walls.
What used to be bitter breaths and
spiteful sighs are now regretful cries.
Your silent goodbye still haunts
as the lips grieve for one last kiss.
I forgot myself today,
but have not forgotten your love.
The Silent One
Simple Musing
29 November 2017
(Fiction)
A wise and sentimental one
Who lived and loved some years ago
Had crossed my path along the way
As i recall that Autumn day
By happenstance of lucky charm
As neighbors, then good friends we were
Though she was of another time
We found our words would always rhyme
A turning point that was for me
A home to call my very own
My life was just about to start
Forever called to gift my heart
She taught me not to fear my age
As life awaits then passes by
To always laugh and find the sun
And share my love with everyone
Though she’s been gone these many years
And I’m now where she was in life
I oft remember our exchange
When my world turns so cold and strange
Of many themes, we’d share our thoughts
She helped me grow, to find my strength
Yet one remains above them all
“Into each life some rain must fall”
For Harriett
How long does it take
for a heart to harden?
for muscles to loose
that supple tone
to lose elasticity
to become...stone?
How long does it take?
I wonder
But I know
your heart has hardened
I never would believe it to be true
No, not you
Not...YOU
Your heart was my home
the soft walls my comfort
the rhythmic squeeze my treasure, my pleasure
But your heart has hardened
Turned...to stone
But even a stone would hear my cry
a stone would shed a tear
a stone would soften
with the beating of my breast against it
with the deluge of my tears wetting it
with my sobs moving it
a stone would hear
and come to life
to quiet my inner strife
but not your heart
NO, Not YOU!
Your heart is stone
I wonder if it yet beats
and why do I write this poem?
Perhaps you will see
Perhaps you will read
Perhaps you will be softened
and bleed
I write because...
My heart yet beats
for you...
Eileen M Ghali
I've heard your whispers
in quiet moments
amongst the shedding trees of Autumn..
I walk alone our wooded path – listening
the air just as crisp as a bright-blushed Winesap
but my tears not as sweet – glistening
the wispy whispers haunting
taunting in their gentle tug
and I wonder; how easily the golden leaves let go..
with barely a breath of wind’s soft persuasion
they fall away from boughs
each descending like a fated swan
gliding circling fluttering to their end with a taffeta crinkle -
the crinkle reminiscent of a shy fire’s crackle
as they settle and nestle on the forest floor
I remember how we settled and nestled
on the rug before the fire’s supple tongues
home-made hard cider filled our mugs
made from untamed fruits
of wild trees
our flame untamed and wild too
when we were ginger-kissed
and the taste of your lips saturated mine
besotted with our nectar-like love
till satisfied cinders in the hearth serenely died..
I walk alone now with falling leaves
was it Fall who taught you how to let go so gracefully
while October’s wind trembled aspens like harp strings..?
I hear a thousand golden whispers of love
amongst the shedding trees of Autumn.
Susan Ashley
August 27, 2022
~ Second Place ~
Premiere Contest: Brian Strand Contest No 1178
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~ Second Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 13
Sponsor: Mark Toney
*Winesap: an American heirloom apple that ripens in October with a bright/dark red skin, a crisp texture, is aromatic and has a sweet-tart taste. Winesaps get their name due to their distinctive spicy wine-like flavor. Great for hard cider!
Photo: CU Denver News; 2020 Guide to Fall Foliage
The ignorant ones claim,
I'm full of petty problems,
a slave to the darkness,
but if only they had seen
how I've slaughtered
malicious demonic sea creatures
that slithered along my spine,
undisturbed nor provoked.
You are the singing sunrise
to my sultry sunset,
weaving silver sonnets
from beige ballads
seducing my spirit
into sweet slumber—
igniting nocturnal
Novembers with
crimson showers
upon sepia stems,
because It's no longer
the climatic chaos I fear,
it's the calm you've crafted,
continuing to be
my constant comfort.
Your devotion adds
color and clarity in my once
monochrome existence,
as you've polished
the dimmed stars in my eyes,
they now glitter like
shimmering fireflies,
a reincarnation
of the strength
from Freyja's tears,
after you kissed them
with your silken soft sagas.
When the days begin
to dawn upon dreary dusks
you've aromatized my
universe with summer scents.
Thor's thunder could
not demolish our
kind of spring as
our celestial spirits
float around the nine realms.
A part of you will
forever rhyme as
clusters of couplets
fated to be,
the rest of you flow
like simple stanzas
of empathic free verse.
As my story will make
Odin ashamed, and
Fenrir cry, so when all
the beauty of butterflies
congest my throat,
preventing me from
pouring dreams of
stardusts upon
your selfless quill…
always remember us
for the times we swayed
and enclasped into
our own silhouette,
running from the
stormy disarray of society’s
serpentines,
swimming in Satanic
sapphire seas.
Whilst the debt I owe
for your generosity will drown
me in endless poetry,
floating on metaphors
without blueprints,
keeping the vampires
from Beelzebub's door,
releasing me from the
chains of uncertainty …forevermore.
I hope you would still remember me as we were,
every time you see pristine
passing pomegranate hues of the horizon.
When clouds smear our unspoken love
in inexplicable figurines,
of those simple moments we
reignited beneath our own twilight,
reliving our dreams in
remaining rosy dialects of romantic recollections,
as I have a confession to make
beneath this cluttering of chaos.
I wasn’t ready to let you nor our late night conversations go,
After all these years, all my heart ever desires,
is for you to see the broken empire
behind these weary eyes.
I have long been a gift of solitude and sorrow,
But as I’ve let you go, my hopes swayed a lilac
feathered goodbye,
Although you’ll never know how a simple hey,
once upon a time, saved my life,
and embellished my universe with pearlescent
moonstones and amethysts.
Yet I still question you, in rustic rhymes you can’t comprehend,
Have you forgotten how to pronounce my name?
is it because your heart doesn’t feel the same?
Have your desires now become tame?
As you walk away, why am I the one to take the blame?
Is our love now lost in history?
Is that why you’ve left me in so much mystery?
In your absence the mind battles against violence.
All is mute in a void of meaningless silence.
Did you forget to love me today?
Is this the price I have to pay?
Just for you to say that you’ll love me
again in the same way, someday.
COLORS for MOTHER,
Looking towards the blue sky
Every color camouflaged around the cloud
Tears of sadness began to dry
Watching all the colors display out loud
The dark needing to fade
The grey in my life finally made sense
Colors overlapping, forming a beautiful cascade
Shoulders of tense
I imagined your smile against the yellow sun
Giving light to all the matter of the things I've done
A warmness in my red heart-- together in the long run
Creating a new purple and pink sensation-- as one
My new rainbow doesn't come in black and white
Giving reason to follow the joy of light
A gift of colors remind me everything will be all right
A guide blazing throughout the night
Lavender plant blooming for the world to see
A garden of every color just for me
Everyday I see the sunrise, rising up in colors of glee
My Rainbow will appear everyday without rain, no matter how deep the sea
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet, the perfect skin tan
My sweet angel your the largest spectrum where ever rainbows span
:-)
by;PD
I wrote this poem for my mom.
Rhyme
Don't miss me for I'm never very far,
glimpsing your days from a secret star.
I'm among flowers that grow by your side,
resting on rainbows when hoping to hide.
As stars sparkle in the misty moonlight,
should a lone one capture a naive night,
or, if the summer breeze ruffles your hair,
it's because, for the moment, I was there.
Music you hear in a soft, summer's breeze,
is our song I'm singing to sleepy trees.
If not there, I fly in a peaceful place
where love can exist in a groundless grace.
I often meet you in whispers of air,
the song of a bird, sunlight on the stair.
I'll caress you when time gathers us nigh,
Together we'll explore the seamless sky.
March 16, 2023
for Brian Strand's Number 1199 poetry contest
POTD