Best Neared Poems
At the end of the rainbow, dreams unfold.
And some people say there is a pot of gold.
How well I recall a rainbow one day
that shone in the sky when a storm went away.
Rain pelted my car; I felt so afraid.
But as I neared home, it started to fade.
The sky, once so dark, grew more and more blue.
I thrilled next to see a rainbow arch through!
It bent toward the mountains, so beautiful,
a peace and great joy welled up in my soul.
No pot of gold at its end did I see,
but still there was gold and it beckoned to me.
The mountains were gilded with a bright gleam.
This is the magic that makes poets dream!
When I got home, I took paper and pen
and wrote of that beauty, God's promise to men.
Again I recall how my soul lifted.
At the rainbow's end, God's love is gifted.
A collaboration between Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire
Where were you when she disappeared?
Is the moment caught in your mind?
Were you nervous as the day neared,
or to its approach were you blind?
She took the lonely winding road
towards the hills in purple haze.
The weary sun took one last look
then cast away its fading rays.
Were you watching the sun go down?
Did you grasp the consequences?
Did you see sunset's halo crown;
did waning light stir your senses?
She walked ahead; not once looked back
nor did she pause or hesitate.
As shadows fell to twilight’s touch
she came at last to heaven’s gate.
Did you imagine her entry
to God's heavenly, lasting life?
Could you see the guarding sentry
as the joy in heaven was rife?
She left behind no next of kin,
no faithful fans or floodlit stage.
The only ones who mourned for her
were a few friends of ripened age.
If no one recalls her passage,
does that mean she did not exist?
When the reaper sends his carriage,
do our thoughts of loved ones desist?
More autumns came and winters too
remaining leaves withered and fell
since her soul rose into the blue.
Is there no more story to tell?
I thank Paul for joining me in this collaboration and apologize for taking so long to post it. As some of you know, my house flooded and I've been dealing with health issues as well.
I walked home alone in the dampening mist
as the pastel colored sky blanketed the sun
His rays sank into the sea for their daily tryst
Resting among the waves, his work was done
And now the moon will rise in splendid glory
bringing lovers together in her lustrous light
while the mist hides the tears of my sad story
My heart is broken and my spirit is contrite
My cottage hearth will hold no warming fire
It's to darkness that I'll open my creaking door
No smiling face or welcome words will transpire
Twilight's become the time of day I most abhor
She would run and greet me when I neared home
But no longer do her laughing eyes meet mine
Her eyes now shine where she chose to roam
Bitter on my tongue is the taste of finest wine
Pity is not an emotion in which I choose to wallow
One day when the sun no longer drowns in the sea
perhaps then my wine will be pleasant to swallow
and memories of lost love will no longer torture me
My last post before Christmas. May I wish a Happy and Holy Christmas to all, and a healthy New Year. ~~ Victor
*****
Someone saw me dance
in the town's square
covered with white snow
around the decorated pine.
The lights blinked brightly,
pseudo parcels hang here and there,
music murmured muted carols
as midnight slowly neared.
On top of the pine, a star
was shining strong and silvery,
all around the branches green
tinsel sparkled joyously.
Beneath the tree, a manger stood
reminding me of days gone by,
when a poor couple arrived
at a small but crowded town.
There was no place for them.
The child was born in poverty,
in the town named after bread.
Is there a place for Him now?
Someone saw me, but went on
alone towards his dreams.
I danced unaided around the tree.
Oh Ganga! river so revered
your holiness purifies deep
if thy essence we let in seep.
From lord Shiva's hair you appeared
down the mighty Himalayas
quenching the thirsty souls pious.
Yamuna, Saraswati neared
to merge with you at Triveni
Sangam of pilgrimage many.
Together all joyously cheered
by peasants and boatmen alike
before in sea you slowly dyke.
Your ambrosial waters so cleared
granting boon to even sinners
writing history of winners
Oh Ganga! river so revered
From lord Shiva's hair you appeared
Yamuna, Saraswati neared
Together all joyously cheered
Your ambrosial waters so cleared.
Note:
Ganga, Yamuna, Saraswati rivers' confluence takes place at Triveni near Allahabad. This confluence is also called Sangam in Hindi.
25.7.2020
Distrait within the dismal night
while drifting down deserted track...
Beyond the bend, a lantern light
illumed alone the vacant black.
Such are the tricks that fate will feign
with passing trains in winter rain.
The darkling sky sighed, dripping dew,
beguiling to the trek anew.
Through diamond dusk old demons came -
There was no dread, there was no claim,
for distant thoughts will entertain
on passing trains in winter rain.
Through shadow’s fog a form appeared
(which slowed its pace as morning neared),
a lonesome, meek and wistful thing,
like fallen bird with broken wing.
Such are the shapes and weary strain
of passing trains in winter rain.
We paused a moment, side by side
confronting Fate in eventide.
But Passion’s Pains of yesteryear
left youthful Ardor draped in fear -
We had our courses to maintain
like passing trains in winter rain.
I often harken, flashing back,
to sense the formless twisted track
muse “Few have loved though all have toyed
inside this vast and vacant void -
The reason why ? At heart, mundane
as passing trains in winter rain” ...
'Twas the time of Summer solstice, they wed
Verdant leaves clung to trees; the month was June
Whispered troths of love, sacred vows were said
'fore fauna, rising sun and waning moon
Prince Largent was soon to be crowned as king
but Mekram, the wise, held grief in his eyes
He smiled with joy when Asha wore the ring
Though death neared, he feigned a joyous disguise
Bodies joined, celestial and human
Festive auguries 'pon the forest floor
Skies aflame, trees canopied with lumen
Their world glows today, and forevermore
'Twas said to be just an immortal tale
but in June, astral light gleams in the vale
We drew a sun, a cloud, a heart,
Umbrellas and two girls
To dress and decorate with jewels
And hats atop their curls.
Last week our art had fireworks
And flags to celebrate
July the 4th, with flowers, too
To thus commemorate.
Those chalk designs aren’t meant to last;
The old ones disappeared.
Just one good downpour wipes them out,
I thought, as dark clouds neared.
Our lives are as ephemeral
As chalk-drawn pictures seem.
We make our mark upon the earth
And vanish, like a dream.
At internet dating sites secrets are hidden
On his roller coaster of lies, Pam had ridden
Though she agreed to meet Joe in a public park
The sun had already set; it was growing dark
No families or lovers were strolling around
When Jim came from behind and pushed Pam to the ground
Pam went home and was afraid to tell her parents
In four months there was a change in her appearance
Pam left home and started living on the streets
Turning away from every stranger she’d meet
‘Neath neon lights on a cardboard box she lay
Night after night, visiting soup kitchens by day
In her eighth month she found a home for pregnant teens
As her mom endured the torment of fearful dreams
Time neared and Pam called home crying, “Mom, I’ve done wrong!”
Grateful mom said, “Dear, I’d have been there all along"
Lifting Pam up from the grasp of dire poverty
Her parents welcomed the newborn to their family
If she hadn’t made that call, Pam would not have known
The comfort she’d receive in her parents’ fine home
* Entry for Gwendolen’s “Mom, I’m Pregnant” contest.
According to Douglas J. Besharov with the University of Maryland’s School of Public
Policy, almost half of all families headed by women under age 18 have incomes
below the poverty line. This is almost five times the poverty rate of two-parent
families with children.
there's a spot on the horizon
in the ripple of the sun
where railway lines and stanchions fuse
and merge becoming one.
I was staring from the platform
when a distant dot appeared
it grew in size and shape and form
and sounded as it neared.
I caught blurred faces turning
as they thundered by so fast
to briefly glimpse where strangers met
each thursday in the past.
back then the steam and music
lit up life's black and white
- by tugging strings when love went wrong
rachmaninoff was right.
The Story of the Nativity in Rhyme
The night was cold, the journey long
The stars were shining bright,
As Joseph and Mary neared Bethlehem
On that wondrous night
The small town lights guided them
The rest of the weary way,
Joseph pondered in his heart
If they’d find a place to stay
Mary, weary from the road,
Needed to rest a while
Thoughts of baby soon to come,
Bought to her face a smile
Donkey plodded on and on,
His head was hanging low
Wherever his master led him
He would gladly go
Though travelers searched everywhere,
No room could be found
Bethlehem was a busy place
With strange sights and sounds
Joseph came to the last inn,
And prayed he’d find a place
He didn’t like the tired look
He saw on Mary’s face
The innkeeper shook his head,
And nearly closed the door,
There just wasn’t any place
To take one traveler more
On a nearby silent hill, shepherds
Kept watch all night long
When suddenly they came to hear
A glorious angel song
Then they all fell to the ground
As angles hovered near
They hid their faces for their hearts,
Were filled with awful fear
So that night in manger poor,
They welcomed the new King
Little knowing as they bowed,
The hope and joy He’d bring
And then much to Mary’s surprise
There came from distant land,
Three wise men to see her son,
Each with a gift in hand
At his tiny feet were laid
Myrrh, frankincense and gold
The manger was filled on that night
With peace and joy untold
What can YOU give to show your love
To the King of Kings tonight?
What do you think will bring Him joy
And bring to Him delight?
Does Jesus want a precious gift,
Of beauty and wealth untold?
Do you think it’ll make Him glad
To receive your gift of gold?
There IS something that is dear,
For the greatest gift, you see
Is when with love you say to Him
"Jesus, Take all of me"
Christmas Nativity Play
Written by Eileen Manassian Ghali
Nicosia, Cyprus
Please check out my latest blog. I also have links to two lovely songs that will bring your heart joy during this season. God bless! :)
Year: 2,000
Cheese curds make my day.
My wife has a daily habit
Of caring for all my needs.
She keeps her eyes wide open
To see what she can see.
This week was no exception
As she neared the dairy case.
Greeted by one of my favorites
Now staring her in the face.
You see. . . I love cheese curds.
I even love their squeaky sound.
When she finds real fresh ones
I can eat them by the pound.
Several months ago,
A nearby dairy closed its door.
Never to make great curds again
No. . . never “curds” no more.
Shullsburg, Wi. was the next place
We’d make the day long drive to.
When we’d go so far fetch,
We’d always buy more than a few.
But it goes against my “system”
When those curds are in the home.
I’m always “digging” in the frig
I can’t leave those curds alone.
But as sometimes life will go
Our local grocer now has in stock
So we can buy fresh curds
Without driving a "million blocks”.
She announced as she returned
From the weekly trek she makes.
“The store had some ‘new’ curds”
To mention curds is all it takes.
I quickly fought open the package
To taste and hear that sound.
I scarfed down several chunks
Before in the frig they’re bound.
“Oh my !” is what I shouted.
These curds are really best.
But at my age, I must control
The quantities I now ingest.
For my old system can’t tolerate
All the cheese I’d like to eat.
So I must regulate the flow
Save my curds for just a treat.
My son, however: doesn’t seem care.
He can mow them down full feed.
But I know “our kitchen tender”
Will supply us all we need.
So “Thank you” Homestead Dairy
And all the folks involved in that.
I’ll be up to see your operation
Maybe get to see you “stir the vat”. :o)
A parting note to all Christian readers,
I’ve a thought about life’s end.
With all the banquets talked about,
I trust my curds “someone” will send.
Written by oldbuck to commemorate the discovery of a “local” supply for fresh curds. Curds and crisp bacon are two of my favorite foods.
I carried it on my lap all the way to you,
The bus ride was so long, so long, Mom;
Lost in old memories of you and me, together,
I just looked out the window all the way.
Holding a wilting red rose ~
The gate of the cemetery creaked as usual,
The path filled with many crumbling leaves;
Cool wind took my long raven hair blowing it back,
I felt my tears falling as I neared your tomb.
Holding a wilting red rose ~
I stood for a long time with my eyes closed,
The words carved in stone and in my heart;
Feeling the pride of a daughter for a wonderful Mom,
I fell to my knees weeping for what is lost.
Holding a wilting red rose ~
Then at last I rose and dried the forever tears,
I touched the words carved on your cold tomb;
And retraced my steps down the path, closing the gate,
I boarded the bus and was soon lost in thought.
Holding a wilting red rose ~
. . . . . still
________________________________
May 11, 2014
Poetry/Verse/Holding a wilting red rose
Copyright Protected, ID 05-565-847-11
All Rights Reserved, 2014, Constance La France
Just a girl in a room, sitting on the floor,
I can see her in this window, but I see no door
Crying her song of anguish, of this unspeakable pain,
Has every intention never to feel it again
I rock, I tremble, my life is at cost
All I know is this shell, for it's myself...my core...my all I have lost
From the start I new this fight could only last so long,
I aimed to defeat it, striving to remain strong
Each day in and day out, facing the demon, fighting the doubt
At a moment with no warning, without any clue
I was losing my strength...my energy...all the will I once knew
For now, my all is lost, my memories are faint,
There is no pretty picture left for me to paint
This girl on the floor, in this empty room
Was this girl condemned for a life of doom
My tears disappeared, like they'd never been there
Dried up with my soul, the time is clear
Wanting to shake her, make her open her eyes
To show some hope, the blue is still in the skies
Then, out of nowhere, I found the door
I wanted to save the girl on the floor
As I neared and inched to her close
She wasn't that girl, what I saw was a ghost
As I turned to walk out, stopped by a noise
I heard the laughter of girls and of boys
With that came a voice of peace and of grace
She told me, she's happy, no-more demon for her to face
I am calmed, I'm reassured, I'm no longer in pain
She was the broken me, but now I am strong again
Twas the Eve of this Christmas,
We were traveling far,
When in the dark sky
I noticed a bright shining star.
I imagined the Manger,
Where Jesus was born,
Were alerted to danger
As the road signs did warn.
The bright star we followed,
Far above in the night
In my mind’s eye saw Shepherds,
And Three Kings giving us light .
Listening to joyful Carols,
Each one we both sung,
As we neared our destination,
Heard church bells being rung.
We noticed a small church,
Standing all on it’s own
A midnight mass in progress,
Singing heard from it’s dome.
We went in and watched,
A nativity in play,
The Christ child was born
It is now Christmas Day.
Competition Entry
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Date 2021/12/30