Best Nestle Poems
Stay - One more golden morning –
Linger - One more silver night –
Abide tiny child born of my desire
To encourage a new life;
Watch with me the amber moon
Peek through moonbeams rising up so large
We could touch it's creamsicle face -
Sleep caressed within the shelter of soft umber leaves,
Preparing for their final journey,
To sing a last duet with you,
This last autumnal aria, no more with choruses, just two thin voices
To a harp song strummed through my oaken limbs;
Now see the changing cloud ships
Gather - carrying cargoes full of rain -
To scuttle ‘cross the sunrise
When breezes turn from summer zephyrs
To blustery torrents, tinted with icy dew;
As you sail away, soaring on their roller coaster wings,
I leave a kiss upon your face in sunlight that taught your heart to beat –
Watching with a blessing on my lips -
My empty arms still remembering your round, smooth face -
As you ride the vagabond winds
Following their air-born trails to find your place
Where you nestle deep within a warm and richly decorated nursery –
A birthing place –
For when you labor I stand a silent sentinel alongside ancient family,
A vigil as the silent snows blanket your dreams of mighty forest oak -
To wake in seasonal celebration
When, re-formed, your first leaves appear;
No farewell now only adieu, my little one, until we meet again.
Dear Quintain, how beautiful you are,
allowing us to paint the spacious sea or sky,
landscapes, or nights’ celestial bodies beckoning from afar.
Even when my quill is running dry,
with you along, my thoughts are sure to fly!
For all I need to do
is let you slip inside, then nestle in my brain.
The pattern of rhyme required by you
is not too difficult; here I will remain
content to write with you, dear Quintain.
Your English form, so lovely, does not ask
that we adhere to meter even though
I want to dance your lines as I bask
in your sweet simple charms, and lo!
My quill has filled; my lines now start to flow!
I’ll keep on going for two stanzas more
because I wish to sing
your praises! My mind is like a shore
upon which you are tumbling, glistening!
A sea of inspiration you bring.
Continue on - through poets - bringing words
that paint our world, entreating all to see
God’s gifts or to enjoy the singing birds,
taste clear mountain springs, and smell the salty sea.
Continue, dear Quintain, enrapturing me.
Written 8/17/2015 , this is English Quintain, which has rhyme scheme of ababb and the lines do not have to be consistent in syllable count
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
Out of the dark, a lambent, lovely day has dawned
In silvery brilliance the early morning is drowned
In the sapphire sky, the sun has appeared on his diurnal shift
Over the firmament the vagrant clouds aimlessly drift
Pigeons nestle with their fledglings in the eaves
Bright sunshine seeps down through the leaves
Flocks of birds take on wings for their morning flight
Like diminutive dots they eventually disappear out of sight
All around is seen spring’s mesmerizing presence
The dormant bulbs have sprung back with a vengeance
They bear blossoms of pink, purple, yellow and white
Flashing before every watchful eye a spectacular sight
Like a bride, the Earth is clad in her silky emerald dress
Around honey laden florets, the bees restlessly buzz
Every heart overflows in cheer with no tension’s trace
On every face, smile shuttles from lips to eyes
In the wind I hear the lilts of a forgotten melody
From a woodland nearby, a lone bird sounds its parody
It seems Heaven has flung all its treasures down
And the Earth appears regally decked in floral crown
Within me, all of a sudden, I sense a divine elation
Erasing from my sullen soul, all traces of vexation
Through every fiber of my being, the waves of joy rise
And my spirit leaps out in ecstasy to the skies!
I reach onto the bookshelf
Carefully removing the photograph album from the top shelf
We nestle together on the sofa
I slowly turn over the pages
Yellowing photographs that capture precious moments frozen in time
Suddenly you become animated
Hidden memories begin to return …
We laugh as you recall stories from the past
You lovingly stroke the faces of those now long gone
Wishing they were there by your side for real
Tears fill your green eyes as you reach out and gently squeeze my hand
Nostalgia Contest
Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron
11~25~16
'O dreamy night
with wandering eyes
you could not lie to me;
deceive the drifts of snow
with crystal glitter...
Like tender downs in a midnite hour
Not a stirring soul but I in thy amphitheatre
this white night
where backyard chairs nestle snow-cakes
and the maple arbors
soft with wind shadows...
make my eyes wide with sleep
The sheep are calling in the stardust...
and from moonbeams
this muse must fade...
***I wrote this poem a few winters ago, but
I find it soothing to post this hot summer***
Within Passion's Dream
A Collaboration with Michael P. Clarke (Vladislav Raven)
Within Passion's Dream I hold you close beside the Ocean of Love.
I behold God's heavenly stars and they hold not the beauty of your temple.
You are the glory in my every thought and dream,
let me taste of your divine lips and love shall flow.
Come dance with me through love's divinity;
oh beauty of my heaven your love does sing.
You are all my tomorrows wrapped in a beauteous dream,
come my beloved in the love we share Within Passion's Dream.
Within Passion’s Dream, you are eternally mine,
as we nestle in the ardent arms of an orange-adorned full moon.
Let me enrapture you with the warmth of my legs and breasts,
entwining you in my vines, drinking deeply from the goblet of love.
Electrified by your sensuous caresses that awaken all my senses,
my beloved, your essence seeps into the pores of my very soul.
Whirling in ecstasy from the sweetness of honeydew kisses,
we twinkle through a star-studded Milky Way Within Passion’s Dream.
Within Passion's Dream I am enraptured by our love,
your temple joining with mine in a passion primal in its bearing.
Let stardust caress us as in love's magic we dwell,
your lips on mine and divinity's song is sung.
I lose myself in the eyes of an angel's face,
swimming deep within memories vision.
One heart, one soul, paradise our aim,
I find your eternal beauty ever before me Within Passion's Dream.
Within Passion’s Dream, I behold the wonder that is you,
sprinkling sunbeams and moonbeams showering me with your love.
Bodies and souls merging, we waltz to melodies
of a celestial symphony divinely orchestrated.
Like juicy golden grapes on a ripened vine,
unabashedly spurting their syrupy sweet wine,
tender tendrils of our love do gently unfold and
our hearts chime in rhapsodic harmony Within Passion’s Dream.
01-18-2017
Poem of the Day - 01-20-2017
Note: Mike wrote the 1st and 3rd stanzas, while I wrote the 2nd and 4th stanzas.
Thank you my friend, Mike for inviting me to collaborate with you on this piece, for your wonderful inspiration, and making it easy for me!
Johnny-Jump-Ups nestle into the forest floor mosses,
Along with dainty Jack-in-the-Pulpits hiding beneath
The larger fronds of swampy ferns soaking up moisture
From the dew-laden flowering branches of laurel
Where I find myself dreaming in the verdant woodland,
Edging the meadow beyond the cluttered beaver stand.
A canopy of vine-entangled branches, a vault-like nave,
Provides a sanctuary of sacred candles dimmed for mass
A pew-less haven for wounded souls, and tiny chipmunks,
Who scurry to find isolated spots for quiet meditation
While grebes and gallinules make up the choir ensemble;
A purple swamphen takes up the guttural baritone line.
The late morning is mine, sitting along the narrow trail
In a cross-legged yoga pose with arms across my knees,
Soaking up the faint sweet smells of sassafras and pine
And slipping into what I sometimes call my “blue funk”
Where nothing on earth matters outside this quiet shelter,
Dozing softly, I dream of a utopian sweet, elusive peace.
FIRST PLACE WINNER (TROPHY)
June 25, 2022
Submitted to: "Poetry Marathon Mile 5" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
Written on June 3, 2021
Selected for FEATURED POEM
On the front page of All Poetry,
September 13, 2021
GOLD MEDAL WINNER
"5 Golds or Less - Profanisaurus" Poetry Contest
All Poetry, December 11, 2021
Appeared in "It's Still Poetry"
Poetry Soup Anthology - 2021
CreateSpace, Amazon publication
In still the night, the beaks slumber.
The weary wings, of great number,
In lightest twitch, upon the dark
Etching on oak, wait for dawn’s hark.
In common sleep - sigh encumber.
The scented air, lilacs cumber
With bluebird-lull, silent slumber.
No need to coax the dormant bark,
In still the night.
Quickly, stars found in low number.
Red guitar pick awakes slumber.
Birds nestle under branches’ ark.
A cloudy mist sets off a spark.
Storm’s cajole - raindrops outnumber,
In still the night.
If I were a tree in a garden
In silence I would stand strong
UNIQUE and BEAUTlFUL
My soul would feel blessed
To give life to other living beings
From the breeze of my fresh breath
My soul would feel blissful when
Many find solace in my shade
On scorching sweltering summer days
My soul would soothe each day
In ecstatic overflow of serenity
Elated to listen from dawn to dusk
Those exquisite sweet songs of birds
That nestle in my sprawling branches
My soul would sense colours of hope
When first ray of dawn caresses my skin
Brightening all living cells and beings within me
I am LIFE, I am YOU
I am THE CONNECTION in-between
Destroying ME is destroying YOUR OWN SELF!
Submitted for: NA Poem From A February 2021 Judged Poem - Poetry Contest
Date: 03/16/2021
Sponsor: Constance La France
Previously Submitted for: If I Were A? Poetry Contest
Image Chosen: 1) If I were a tree
Contest Judged Date: 02/04/2021
Security Blanket
No chance of rain tonight,
No bogeyman, when I turn off the lights.
A phrase I found and adore with the warmth of your security.
You are the reason I attain true maturity.
I love when you lay down next to me,
Like the high tide of the sea,
You move all the warm emotions inside.
My arms are the comfort you use to seek and hide.
Your nestle holds a true rhythm that hums its own song~
Nothing comes close to breaking this precious bond~
A sweet cradle-song only I hear,
You play my grin, without the strings of a puppeteer.
My heartbeat needs its fix and drug,
Your sweet, charming smiles and hug,
Is all I need to succeed,
You are, my only creed!
A kiss, I give on your forehead,
Into a poet’s world where your blanket a dulcet lullaby,
my arms are your bed.
“Goodnight Sweet Child, Sweet Child of Mine!”
By; pd
Ten is the number to begin
Early in the garden
Gathering herbs, foxglove and more
On her face casual grin
Nine are the ingredients here
Placed in beef stew to simmer
It will be tender, succulent
For his eye will grow dimmer
Eight minutes sear the stew beef
Add some herbs like lemon thyme
Pour in beef broth to simmer down
Let it stew half a day's time
Seven is the count to cook some rice
A soft bed to nestle
Colors a great contrast appeal
Beauty, aroma will settle
Six add carrots, red and green peppers
The slow simmer, leaves crunch
Perfect in shape, color and taste
He will munch, munch, and munch
Five memories of his abuse
Threats, terror, and betrayal
Guns pointed to head even loaded
To public opposite portrayal
Four ladles of stew removed
Add some oleander
To stew on range, and let simmer
Stir the pot, leaves meander
Three flowers from pretty foxglove
Maybe this stew he'll love
Hear his truck come down the drive
Everything's quiet even dove
Two ladles served upon white rice
Her's prepared set aside
Upon a plate over white rice
Stew served that she contrived
One ambulance pulls quietly away
Rushing to hospital
Entirely too late to save the day
A crime? Really Committal?
I watch TV crime stories..LOL
SPRING
Testing the water with bare toes
I will recoil
to the misted edge of hoarfrost
softened soil
peek through eyes of Crocus
and Jonquil
at the emptiness my promise
must fullfil.
I’ll whisper to the branches shy
with cold
to remember seasoned stories
they were told
beckon to the passing birds -
alight
let us celebrate this
un-chilled night.
My warming fingers, reaching gently,
thaw river ice
as softened earth imparts my scent
to foggy spice
worms wiggle in the drizzling
April showers
as dawn tempts the stretching vines
climb empty bowers.
I will touch each aching heart
with sunshine’s gift
releasing all from stifling
Winter’s grip
nestle with the Cardinals
and Jays
languish in renewals
warming haze.
1/2/2015
submitted to Seasons – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Shadow Hamilton
I see the shimmers of your light, Lord.
My life unfolds to one body
Becoming the air that runs across the golden fields.
The wet pure water that swirls and flows,
The soil that yields sweet fragrant blooms.
Nestle under your wings, finding strength inside
To continue;
I am able to breathe and rest at your feet,
As my head lies upon your lap as I sleep.
Your touch,
Helps to control the strife whilst you stroke my hair.
My heart starts to beat again refusing to let go of you.
No matter how great my need,
You are always there extending your hand
Abling me to rise holding up my head again.
Lord let me be your instrument,
An instrument of change.
Give me the strength and courage to go beyond and change my life,
And help those that need that same strength.
8/29/2017
The Summer closes in an early Fall,
late August with the maples' leafy bleed.
Now crimson whispers echo sirens' call
of nascent frost, to nestle unborn seed,
to glow in fire, then ginger, and indeed,
though swans sing not the day on which they die,
the summer trills its blazing final cry.
9/15/17