Best Not Necessarily Poems
Gardens at Keukenhoff (Alouette)
As the tulips rise
With their sweet surprise
Fragrance permeates the air
Colors cover land
From God's divine hand
In these gardens we all share.
Such astounding views
Come enjoy the hues
As varied blossoms cascade.
Seek a bench to gaze
At the mirror maze
With lush tulips on parade.
2-19-19
Gardens Poetry Contest~Premiere Fourth Place~
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke
The Alouette, created by Jan Turner, consists of two or more stanzas of 6 lines each, with the following set rules:
Meter: 5, 5, 7, 5, 5, 7
Rhyme Scheme: a, a, b, c, c, b
The form name is a French word meaning 'skylark' or larks that fly high, the association to the lark's song being appropriate for the musical quality of this form. The word 'Alouette' can also mean a children's song (usually sung in a group), and although this poetry form is not necessarily for children's poetry (but can be applied that way), it is reminiscent of that style of short lines. Preference for the meter accent is on the third syllable of each line
Pristine mountain breeze
Shivers naked trees...
Autumn whispers her adieu.
Northern air descends
Chilling snow filled winds,
Pines view a magic milieu.
In the frigid snow
Icy crystals grow
In the beauty of the light.
Snowflakes bring a sigh...
Snowdrifts rising high
As the winter sky turns white.
Warm inside our Inn
Snowbound once again
In our peaceful getaway.
We take great delight
At the cheery sight
Of a snowman shaped today.
December 31, 2016
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This poem is an Alouette:
The Alouette, is a form created by Jan Turner, it consists of two
or more stanzas of 6 lines each, with the following set rules:
Meter: 5, 5, 7, 5, 5, 7
Rhyme Scheme: a, a, b, c, c, b
The form name is a French word meaning 'skylark' or larks that fly high, the association to the lark's song being appropriate for the musical quality of this form. The word 'alouette' can also mean a children's song (usually sung in a group), and although this poetry form is not necessarily for children's poetry (but can be applied that way), it is reminiscent of that style of short lines. Preference for the meter accent is on the third syllable of each line.
My Love (Alouette)
Loving all these years
Through my joy and tears…
My sweet memories don't fade.
When I dream of you
Feelings do renew
And my joy seems Heaven made.
It feels so very real
As my heart does heal
From the aftermath of death.
Intense longing pain
I try to regain
Peace, with every calming breath.
I feel you are near
Your presence is here
At night, when I try to sleep.
You are in my head
When I go to bed,
I won't let you see me weep.
Now, forever more
The man I adore
Will keep quiet company.
Serene thoughts of you
In all that I do
Brings me comfort wondrously.
8-6-22
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest~N/A~
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
As I Dream Poetry Contest~N/A~
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
I used: https://www.howmanysyllables.com/
*The Alouette Form:
The Alouette, created by Jan Turner, consists of two or more stanzas of 6 lines each, with the following set rules:
Meter: 5, 5, 7, 5, 5, 7
Rhyme Scheme: a, a, b, c, c, b
The form name is a French word meaning 'skylark' or larks that fly high, the association to the lark's song being appropriate for the musical quality of this form. The word 'alouette' can also mean a children's song (usually sung in a group), and although this poetry form is not necessarily for children's poetry (but can be applied that way), it is reminiscent of that style of short lines. Preference for the meter accent is on the third syllable of each line.
Breasts, boobies, knockers, **** – call them what you will
We are talking about breast cancer – and sadly it can kill
The key to success with catching the disease is early detection
Remember boobies aren’t just funbags to give a fella an ********
Breasts can be appreciated in the their own unique way
Have a feel for lumps make it a sexy game to play
Let him ‘cop a feel’ and if a lump you do detect
Go straight to the GP - this lump you mustn’t neglect
It can be simply that you have lumpy boobs or a cyst
It’s not necessarily cancer but it can be on the list
The GP will send you for a mammogram or scan
Mammograms aren’t comfy, staff do it as quickly as they can
Hopefully the results will put your mind at rest
But sadly sometimes it shows cancer of the breast
Early detection is the key to beating this cancer
Regular mammograms really are the answer
Don’t forget about the men they have pecs or moobs
They can get breast cancer too we are talking about ALL boobs
Jan Allison
17th October 2014
October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, which is an annual campaign to increase awareness of the disease – remember breast cancer affects both males and females with 1 in 1000 males being diagnosed with breast cancer
Precious Preemie (Alouette)
Precious little lass
Time will come to pass
When your preemie days have gone.
As spring flowers bloom
You'll be blooming soon
As you grow with every dawn.
Mommy loves you so
Daddy too I know
That you'll grow up sweet and strong.
Two pounds and a half...
When we hear you laugh
It sounds like a joyous song.
You were meant to be
In this family
By Divine love we were blessed.
Hearts are full of cheer
Now that you are here,
Darling angel get some rest.
It is very clear
Grammy lingers near
Just to hold you in her arms.
You are growing fast
And soon at long last
She will know your loving charms.
4-5-20
The Alouette, created by Jan Turner, consists of two or more stanzas of 6 lines each, with the following set rules:
Meter: 5, 5, 7, 5, 5, 7
Rhyme Scheme: a, a, b, c, c, b
The form name is a French word meaning 'skylark' or larks that fly high, the association to the lark's song being appropriate for the musical quality of this form. The word 'alouette' can also mean a children's song (usually sung in a group), and although this poetry form is not necessarily for children's poetry (but can be applied that way), it is reminiscent of that style of short lines. Preference for the meter accent is on the third syllable of each line.
Some say Love is everything
Some say love is nothing
Of course, if one has never been loved,
never felt such warmth from another;
absent the caring nearness of a dear
mother, father, sister or pal-of-a-brother
not been taught by nurturing family
but, in fact – of love deprived
then, before lived,
to one's buried heart
love has already died…
It is not, necessarily, that one’s heart
has never sincerely desired though not tried,
but the painting of his world
his experience has so lied
any chance for developing
empathetic features --
his nature has been cruelly
deprived –
therefore,
before the feathering brushwork of him,
his portrait of love
has already cracked, peeled,
unrecognizable~ dried….
Sometimes things lost
are never found: that sand-castle
on beach, adult, sunny, encouraging
faces, painted by the sun
like a silly made-up clown --
Somethings lost, are never found
Some couples meant to be
are never joyfully bound
by faith in cherished sacrament
of marriage...Cupid and his trusty
bow left sadly to disparage.
God has His
Heaven, and the Devil
our misguided low-some hell
before learning to soar~ man fell
the joy of loving stopped
before started – and the Spirit of
Love, yet brokenhearted….
An appeal of poetry
is its lack of rules...
though not to be loose
as a plucked goose –
without bare essentials
for flight
struts of logic,
living words
that excite with lift
long after the reading
and initial gliding
a pleasant aftertaste
not necessarily sweet
often profound such seasoning
(therefore, freedom unbound
can be a self-inflicted
noose – God yet dealing
with His man, on the intellectual
physical loose
Poetry~ a harbinger of potential wings
Poetry~ the elastic of sling-shot words
woven hemp of curiosity and
senseful affixation, tautening the
the literary-bow
for enabled focused release
Poetry, the loftier dialogue of both
war and peace
can be a voice of cold desertion
while also the arms of love's entreating
embrace...
with pestilence of hell
while equally possessing
the charm of saintly chants~
Poetry, the voice of victory
and defeat, co-joining of
calm with fear, for their
similarity of awe
Poetry, a writer's quest to make
sense of both soothing nature
and seasonal temperament
of our creator
His sunny risings then quakes
and deluges confounded–
poetry, somewhere within
our fanciful journeys
imagines a deeper truth
that witty penetration
will hopefully incant off the page
rising up and out into blissful new
unbound, forever enlightening living
reality
Poetry, a soaring liberty
and grounding addiction....
"That Place"
In that place where you were abandoned,
that place, they never thought, you’d come back from,
in that place where it is believed nothing grows
in the long night’s tortured darkness, deep down, well,
a spark lit something quite quiet, far removed and forgotten,
and now it grows rapidly, coiling inside,
snaking sharp-edged like mother’s tongue root
it transmits something alive, something like love,
its veins drawing back in again a loquacious life,
the moisture from tears, a necessary nourishment
from the lake of disbelief, betrayal, trauma and grief,
a bless'ed blooming in disguise,
the succulent luscious life those all important tears gift;
what spreads from the darkness and its erratic reach,
calling into it all embers of ethereal light? Now ultra-lit,
some revolutionary reincarnation arrives back from the dead,
it soaks the unseen light up greedily, for it is extraordinarily hungry,
to taste if but just a drop of sunshine in the glory of forever and ever,
this is what it dreams when it sleeps;
after the amen, hibernation,
it grows and it spreads robust, rigorous (not necessarily), yet,
like a beautiful irregular disease, there is no turning back
once the light kisses it and it has a taste for life,
it goes looking for some kinder heaven;
yes, this is accurate, I do believe -
from nothing something blooms
from nothing, the arrival, awake,
life lessons learned,
what is poor, and what is rich,
what is true and untrue
Candide Diderot. '24
When you said to me,
"Climb up here, It's pollution free."
Sacred. Safe.
Your rarefied air.
Calculating, you seemed so free.
Safeguard. Sage.
I said I could breathe...
Underrated your density.
Saintly. Sane.
High-minded insight.
When anticipated terror
denuded me,
cool rarefied air
regulated insanity,
far gone fear.
I will breathe
in your rarefied air.
Let it burn brisk
in brittle, brave lungs.
Gasp and grasp
life's flame, full flare.
Lunge for high notions,
those far-flung schemes.
I will breathe in
High mind's smoke,
hung in air-
that ghostly stroke of genius,
rare token in disguise
Well spoken word flurries
whipping away thin guise.
Floating crown
adrift on high.
I will breathe in
Your rarefied air,
because I listened to you.
"Clamber up, high!
Unfazed view will circle you,
miles on end surround you.
No going around the bend.
Nowhere else to go.
No zig zag escape.
No spike in pressure.
No deep depression.
No bad atmosphere.
No stabbing shove.
No push or pull on edge.
Just your pledge to breathe.
To move in one direction.
Forever. Mentally "together."
Stay in good shape."
I will breathe out.
Your rarefied thoughts
congeal life's force,
slows down blood flow.
Till body gloved heart
faintly, faintly glows...
Concealed fire's torch,
caved embers die down.
Stripped artfully apart,
Your rarefied airs
blanket my mind in snow.
13/10/2018. Purely fiction. On the pros and cons of mentorship. "Higher" education is not necessarily a good thing. Learning lessons are.
The grace of God is free, it's true
But cost our LORD'S great sacrifice,
A ransom paid for me and you
For no human good could suffice.
The grace of God is free, it's true
But we need true repentant hearts,
Clean vessels for grace to flow through
And contain the Love He imparts.
The grace of God is free, it's true
But true faith shows in obedience,
Our love's proven by what we do
If we really have God's Presence.
The grace of God is free, it's true,
It can't be a license to sin,
The Word guides us this whole life through
Those who obey enter heaven.
Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~04.02.16
"Those who obey His commands live in Him
and He in them." (1 John 3:24)
-----------------------
A kyrielle is made of quatrains that rhyme. Each stanza (that is a quatrain)
has a line that repeats, so a line from a previous stanza. That line usually (but does not necessarily have to) be the last line in the stanza.
Each line in the poem has eight syllables. There is no limit to the number of stanzas. Usually there are three or more stanzas. Any type of rhyme scheme can be used.
love fest
welcome here
our community
open hearts and open palms
expressing and receiving other’s feelings
Universality will be possible only when we focus
on human qualities that unite us. Respect, politeness,
cooperation, friendship, inclusion, teamwork. This stems
from the ability to listen to, and most importantly hear
other’s ideas, that are not necessarily our own, and allow
them to flourish also.
Technology is changing day by day,
the benefits? enormous, one might say,
is miniaturization a price too high to pay?
not necessarily the smart and prudent way.
Gemstones aren't what they're purported to be,
take that cuff link, a microprocessor,
what used to take acres and acres of space
now resides on the top of his dresser.
Tie clips and navel rings, earrings with studs
contain microchips too small to see,
snapshots are routed to secret computers,
surveillance directed at you and at me.
As fate would have it, I have diminished,
a 6 footer, now 2ft 4inches,
soon I'll be able to date a REAL bird
and cavort with the crows and the finches.
It must be my penance, I spoke out of turn
and maligned the creator, the hedonist,
who pleasures the masses with tablets and iPods,
and removed me from his Merry Christmas list.
Small is as small does so I gravitate,
and follow these micro-bit players,
I am so tiny, can't hardly be seen,
as black widows become midget-slayers.
Consigned to my basement I look for a way
to escape my arachnoid aggressors,
I squeeze through a slit in the mesh at my window
and plead, as with all good confessors.
Out in my garden I stare at the stars,
just a speck in the depths of the universe,
I fall to my knees to be nothing at all,
prey to microchip madness, a terrible curse
or our endless salvation?
Sausage and custard and ice cream with mustard
Chocolate coated Kentucky Fried Bustard
Whipped cream with mushrooms or frogspawn on toast
These are the foods that an ogre likes most
Volcanic craters and baths full of gators
A pantry thats choc full of gagged and bound waiters
sleeping on bones in a pterosaurs nest
These are the places an ogre likes best
Eyeballs and elbows, the odd severed nose
Ankles and legs and a number of toes
Earlobes and kidneys and hearts to dissect
Things that an ogre just loves to collect
Teeth that are bleeding and eyes that are red
Skin like the skin of somebody that’s dead
One missing ear and a hole in the throat
And chomping raw meat from the leg of a goat
So now that you have him laid clear in your head
The image you see is of someone to dread
For sometimes the truth is a pain in the neck
And ogres in real life are nothing like Shrek
love fest
welcome here
our community
open hearts and open palms
expressing and receiving other’s feelings
Universality will be possible only when we focus
on human qualities that unite us. Respect, politeness,
cooperation, friendship, inclusion, teamwork. This stems
from the ability to listen to, and most importantly hear
other’s ideas, that are not necessarily our own, and allow
them to flourish also.
Older does not necessarily
equate to wiser -- but wiser
can often make one seem a lot
older; in fact, robbed of youth
by poverty and war, I have
sadly met, too many premature
ancients: -- cynicism
in their eyes; where
should reside bright, hopeful
gleams -- dreams, obliterated,
man's faux surface designs over-inking truer light,
little more than colorful
tattoos
of ever
deeper
representation
of spirit
terminating
blight --