Best Overcoats Poems


Premium Member Crisp Winter

From blade of grass to the tip of twig,
The white dust of winter fall’s.
Frenzied  flakes move in lost abandonment,
Finally pitch on fence and wall’s.
On the throat the rasping of cold crisp air,
The sound of snow crunching underfoot.
As the day grows short , and night draws in,
Now  the  journey homeward   took.
Familiar shapes come into view,
There outlines soften by the snow.
What  once were roofs ,now don white overcoats,
With ice jewellery now on show.
The old mill wheel lies motionless,
So still the little stream.
Held fast by Jack Frost clutches,
In  a Christmas greeting scene.
Chinks of light through windows,
Gives some comfort and delight.
Cast a  beam with an incandescent glow,
On  white grains as they glisten bright.
At the door the latch clicks open,
And with thud is now latched again.
Keeping winter firmly on the out side,
withIn, thoughts of summer to retain
Categories: overcoats, inspirational, life, nature, seasonswinter,
Form:

Eve of Eternity

She couldn't contain her rhapsody demeanor much more
hugging her husband and gushing with excitement as he closed the door
the third class cabin was modest but she thought it would do
finally spending time together in this steerage cabin room

After dining together and playing cards with some other passengers
they retired to their cabin and did some reading till their eyes tired
then they spooned together in the darkness of the room
and made passionate love being they were on their honeymoon

Sound asleep till they we're abruptly awaken by a violent jarring
finding out from people running about it was from an icebergs scarring
throwing on their overcoats they we're thrown two lifejackets
and fought their way up to the top deck amidst all the panic

Their weary eyes saw the last lifeboat being lowered down to the ocean
many brave men staying behind waving trying not to show emotion
the newlyweds hugged each other while their faces wept
about to go down with the ship into the fathomless depths

They held hands while trying with all their might to hold on and grip
as the ship rose up perpendicular making them and others slip
the ship now offered nothing but quietus to the passengers on board
as they both plummeted in slow motion down to the ocean floor

Some survivors in the Titanic lifeboats watched with pitiful awe
while others who lost loved ones lost control and bawled
the ones who lost many possessions tried not to show too much enmity
while the newlyweds love story would last for all eternity.


3-18-18
Categories: overcoats, boat, death, sad love,
Form: Rhyme

The Illusionist

A Magician never divulges his secrets 
So how he managed to break my heart while already broken
I’ll never know
It was not viable, 
Then again, any trick can be duplicated, if remembered correctly  

Rewind, replay, on my mind
Was it a slight of the hand?
The flick of the wrist
Or the abandonment of all disregard
To society, to pride, and to us
In those caramel eyes
That hypnotized me
Into believing his illusions of love
Which left me awestruck

Doves and Roses
Hidden underneath  sophisticated overcoats
“Baby, I’ll never do it again”
Pulling promises out of thin air
Magic, I suppose
Complicated locks and bolts
Flashy Velvet, sequins, and gold plated cages
Lead me to believe in mystery
Of Romance
To have faith in in miracles,
Even reformation, perhaps
Oh, but Baby you made a fool of me
Devoid of all machinery, intricate backstage knots 
It was a simple trickery
Disloyalty, behind a locked door
That broke my heart
Categories: overcoats, imagination, lost love, love,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Living Rooms

. for public domain


Where we hung our overcoats I don't remember,
or at what time winter snow fell late December,
I barely recall the living room
with the television or radio on,
snuggled in a chair, wanting weather of September.

The living room, our family's sanctuary,
where we prayed for a quickly passing January,
we held our tongues from bitter comments,
mostly, but one slipped out on occasion,
which made for an unpleasant colder February.

Spring and Summer came with outdoor body odor,
showers and sweat all through the harvest of October.
Comments on sore bones and blisters,
exchanged among my mother and sisters,
kept the conversation lively through November.

Our parents have long passed on, as we have passed on,
alone, or enduring lives we have created,
lording over our own living rooms,
to keep them from becoming tombs
of the silence that awaits us at the end.
Categories: overcoats, family,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Autumn Rainbow Jubilee

autumn rainbow jubilee

shades of autumn burst
 colorful hillside hues ~
  inner fire of fall

umber oaks shed leaves
 tall forest giants shiver ~
  sleepy acorns doze

fiery scarlet leaves
 sugar maples glow like coals ~
  flurries of orange

fall breeze fantasies
 gold flutters from aspen trees ~
  overcoats of snow

birch trees ochre leaves
 black and white tuxedo bark ~
  kinglets swing on boughs

multi-colored leaves
 rainbows green pink and saffron ~
  sycamores spread fruit

shapely hickory
 furrowed dark grey scaly bark ~
  squirrels hide tree nuts

spiny light brown pods
 autumn storms harvest chestnuts ~
  cold reigns in raindrops

autumn jubilee
 bounty of leaves nuts and seeds ~
  beauty walks the earth

10-27-22
Categories: overcoats, autumn, color, tree,
Form: Haiku

Get It Right

Get it right

Yes it’s my body
so gaunt and so lame
In light we remain 
In spirit the same
Come back to regain
The torture the pain
No words can explain
Our path down this lane
And again and again 
and again and again
We are born just to die
cos the spirit does reign
the overcoats worn out,
step on the next plane
the harder the journey, 
yourself you can blame
you are on the true path
you chose and you came
till you get into balance
on the good side remain.

Don Johnson
Categories: overcoats, adventure
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Childhood Games

The icy snow sparkles in the midday sun
as we glide down on cardboard toboggans.
Scarves wrapped thrice around our necks,
overcoats buttoned to the top.
We feel no pain as we tumble off,
just laugh, and run for another go.
In the distance other children are skiing,
planks tied to their feet, sticks in hands.
Younger children have built a snowman,
coal taken from parents' bunkers for eyes.

A by-pass now runs through our playground,
this vast green used for childhood games.
Traffic cones line our slalom run.
Cars skid where we used to slide.
Lorries drive between our goalposts.
where a fantastic goal was scored.
And where a superb six was hit,
road markings show us the boundary.

Progress has left us with childhood memories
the new generation will never see.
© Ken Duddle  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: overcoats, childhood, children, happiness, nostalgia,
Form:

Trip of a Lifetime

We flew through the air on a refurbished plane,
the shakes and the rattles sure gave us some pain.
But we were the ones who fortune had named
to spend years Far East with our dad’s army game.

The journey exciting, we’d not been before
to a place where the winters did not foul our door,
so with overcoats changed for our tropical clothes
we boarded the plane to where God only knows.

With propellers screaming we tore on our way
and rose in the air as the ground dropped away,
though creaking and groaning the plane struggled on
though both the wings flapped as we flew to the sun.

British Eagle, the airline that carried us away,
a turbo prop  plane that had long past its day.
But that’s all our army could ever afford
when transporting dozen of families abroad.

Though night time in Turkey, at our first stop,
was not really the place where we found it too hot,
when we landed in India, some time around noon,
I think that it dawned what we’d be facing soon.

As we walked down the gantry to this foreign place
I thought the plane’s engines blew hot in our face,
but as we walked away the hot stream still blew strong
and it soon became clear t’was the wind all along!

But soon we resumed on our creaky old ride,
like sardines in a can we were packed back inside
and as Singapore rose in the sky like the sun
our new life in the tropics had really begun.

From a plane that just made it, next day was a train
with another full day of rough travelling again,
with seats made of wicker on which we would ride
and bunks made of wood crammed with people each side.

The view as we trundled down the track for that day
was worth any discomfort the train threw our way,
plantations and jungle, bananas and palms,
made this glorious Malaya a world full of charms.

Four years in Penang with its warmth, sun and sea 
changed not only my life but the essence of me,
though it’s now fifty years since I had to depart
this ‘Pearl of the Orients’ still lives in my heart.

Ivor G Davies
Categories: overcoats, adventure, flying, military, nostalgia,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member A Simple Story

I was born in 1943
in a rural backwater safe from the bombs
also a safety net still akin to the 19th century.
Neither electricity nor gas
only an old oil lamp and candles for comfort.
The luxury of the tin bath once a week
brought in from the scullery, placed in front 
of the cast iron Yorkist fire range
with hob and side boiler, to source the hot water
poured into the bath at regular intervals
to help keep out the cold.
Old overcoats and hessian sacks placed across 
the bottom of the doorways, to aid keeps out the icy drafts,
also aid as foot warmers once upon the beds.
A copper boiler for the weekly wash
a fire beneath to be lit, a combination of paper
sticks of kindling all pre chopped
as were the logs to maintain the heat
of the dark stained grey coloured water,
stirred by the posser, to aid mixture 
of the home made soap, and the garments.
Slop bucket (The posh name for it)
to be emptied every morning,
carried down the lane to the tippler convenience
care not to spill on the seat or trouble with the neighbours.
Wet batteries for the wireless
to be carried once a week from the local store,
replacements for the empty ones
a choice of 2 stations
BBC and BBC.
Early nights, early mornings the darkness prevailing
throughout the long winter months,
only for the daylight to never end
in the month of June, impeding one’s sleep
even then we were never satisfied with our lot in life.
Only my father laying in a military hospital
a casualty of war, was missing the value of it all
after all he was fighting for it
his life style, his freedom our freedom
to enable me to write this, ever so simple story!

 © Harry J Horsman 2013
Categories: overcoats, nostalgia,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Raindrops Acrostic

Rivulets of rain run down my misty window pane 
All day long the cats and dogs have teemed down
I really need some sunshine on my pale skin
Non-stop rain makes me feel chilled to the bone
Drip, drip, drip, crystal teardrops fall from the sky
Rivers are swollen I hope there is no more flooding
Overcoats and wellies are worn by everyone
Please can the rain stop falling 
Summer sunshine you are welcome to come and visit us soon

22nd July 2015
Categories: overcoats, nature, rain, weather,
Form: Acrostic

Nobody Told Me

They came as dawn's fresh light fell upon the land.   
With their hard hats and high viz jackets.   
Busy men clamour and plot,   
Measure and scratch,   
Cigarette smoke floats up high.   
    
They never told me.   
    
Bulldozers and diggers,     
In splattered yellow overcoats,     
Sit patiently for ignition.   
Waiting to devour.   
    
They never told me.   
    
Angry Chainsaws roar,   
Felling arthritic trees   
That tumble silently.   
    
Only homeless jackdaws,   
Screech resistance.     
    
But why didn't they tell me?   
Maybe they don't know,     
That I was once emperor of these woods.   
The tycoon of rickety treehouses,   
Whose Kingdom stretched for acre and a half.   
    
Are they unaware of our imperialist acorn   
Wars,     
And slingshot invasions,     
That lasted to tea time,   
Or until a ice cream van     
Rolled down the road,   
    
Where's Clint Eastwood when you need him,   
He would ride in on his trusty mare   
With guns ablazeing,   
And rapidly put an end to this unfurling travesty.     
    
By this time next week my childhood memories,     
Will be erased, buried beneath tarmac and     
White lines   
Terminally extinct, so stressed out shoppers   
Can get their trollies     
To  the shops at least five minutes quicker.
Categories: overcoats, childhood, social,
Form: Elegy

Premium Member Spring Is Coming Soon

Soon one and all will welcome the unique
Pleasantness of spring. Sun’s
Rays and showers will fulfill their
Intended purpose, engendering
New life in the earth as we say 
Good-bye to winter’s last cold blast.
		
Indoor time will decrease as
Sounds of joy fill the air outside.

Closets will reflect the season--
Out with the overcoats, gloves,
Muted shades, and heavy shoes;
In with brighter, light-weight apparel.
Now, let’s unbox those shorts and flipflops.
Go ahead and stock up on grilling supplies.
	
Some of us have allergies.
Our eyes and noses will flow freely.
Our meds, we hope, will help. Achoo!
NEVERTHELESS, WE ALSO LOVE SPRING!	


January 30, 2021
entered in Brian Strand's All Yours (Jan 29) contest
Categories: overcoats, spring,
Form: Acrostic

Merry Christmas

Three wise men with frankinsense
Gold and myrrh packed up their tents
And headed east through gate and fence
(No Google maps for reference)

Behold that star up there they said
It stopped, look, right above his bed
According to the books we've read
This babe's a crown upon his head

Meanwhile shepheards watched their flocks
In overcoats and woolly socks
An angel came (with curly locks)
Said God is love and Jesus rocks

You see that star up in the east?
It means we're headed for a feast
So gather corn and kill the beast
Let's celebrate the very least

The baby's in a crib of hay
Seems fitting he should sleep that way
So when we come to Christmas day
It's gratitude that we display

Take a moment as you dine
To poor a glass of bubbly wine
Acknowledge all that's good and fine
Bless you all good friends of mine


Merry Christmas Everyone
Categories: overcoats, christmas,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Christmas In the Forties

The best Christmas gift I receive each year
Is love, simply pure sweet affection
What could possibly be more cherished than that
It's the meaning of Christmas on reflection

Too bad this feeling doesn't last the whole year
What a joyous world it would be
Dream on little fellow, you're a wee bit delusional
You're sounding like a nostalgic retiree

The world has changed and not for the better
It's just a personal opinion I quote
Gone are the days of warm Christmas visits
Bearing gifts under big overcoats

Each generation has it's own treasured memories
Today's kids will remember theirs fondly
But ask anybody from back in the forties
They'll say those were the best, by golly

  

© Jack Ellison 2013
Categories: overcoats, nostalgia,
Form: Quatrain

The Ocean Breathes Salty

I watch as we all march blindly into the swells feet first,
scraping the ocean floor with drudgery
drowning in this academia, with starfish and sandcastles
and sentiments that wash away with each coming of the tide

We haven't always been as marching ants,
back to back and hand in hand
we've built this land from nothing

The past recedes and tomorrow rises,
time progresses: open minded
while we all dredge with stapled eyelids
still planning out our everything

Forever long, the brine blue tide is
always beckoning us onward.
Its too hard to tell when father time is
playing tricks on me.

The future is grim, the reaper's dead-bent
on harvesting the seeds we've sown
fathers who've passed on debt long owed
to sons who laugh hard while they hit the road
like water flows all the way to the sandbank
I cant help but wish on starfish sinking out to sea
that tomorrow is still a glass half-full of new surprises
vast and outstanding before me.

I took for granted the grand horizon,
full of beauty and hope, and a sun that still rises
over sandcastles crumbling into their counteraction
the certainty of sand that never sticks together long.

I took for granted the way that nothing is
the way it used to be
or was
or could've been
and how its all been done before

Can anyone look up,
when their feet are down
and they waltz on far less sacred ground
than those who came before them.

The nature of the ocean forms to fit its mold
with its blue hue reflecting bold
the sky and all its glory.

We march onward through the rivers rotting
with the raindrops spotting our overcoats
we march onward for the sake of stopping
sometime when we are old.

The ocean swells with the river's rot
the tide compelled the stars to stop
and the fish all cry as people keep on drowning.

The reaper is told to cut his losses
to save the few who still have conscience
and to try again tomorrow.

Tomorrow's glass, half-empty in want
is chock full of the river's rot
and the conscious few left fearful.
Categories: overcoats, introspectionblue, march, ocean,
Form:
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