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Best Pantoum Poems

Below are the all-time best Pantoum poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of pantoum poems written by PoetrySoup members

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See Also:

Poems are below...


New Pantoum Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Pantoum poems are below this new poems list.

The Impatient Page by Gupta, Probir
Poet's Page Pleads by Daniel, Jo
Pantoum on Promise by Poteet, Reason A.
Nature Pull by Duggan, Peter
Picture Framed Within by May, Joseph
Cherish This Page by Sanchez, Pandita
His Amber Pendant by Lane, Lin
Promise Me Cowboys by Bradfield, Larry
PROMISE ME TULIPS by Rodrigues, Kim
My fight for salvation by Smith, Jeremy

View all new Pantoum Poems

The Best Pantoum Poems

 
Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Sun shines on the righteous

It’s only the good that die young. I sadly have found it seems true. While evil across earth is flung, God’s purest of souls are too few. I sadly have found it seems true the wicked live long past their prime. God’s purest of souls are too few. On earth they live but a short time. The wicked live long past their prime. The goodly to heaven do go. On earth they live but a short time. The sun shines on the righteous though! The goodly to heaven do go, while evil across earth is flung. The sun shines on the righteous. . . though It’s only the good that die young! Written April 12, 2016 for The sun shines on the righteous Poetry Contest of Seren Roberts


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

MAGICAL MOONLIGHT - A PANTOUM

I watch moonbeams dance on an inky sea Clouds drift on by, oh how the moon does shine Moonlight shadows always fascinate me This ever-changing scene is so divine Clouds drift on by, oh how the moon does shine As I stroll down to the sea late at night This ever-changing scene is so divine Stars are twinkling, giving celestial light As I stroll down to the sea late at night I’m captivated by such stunning skies Stars are twinkling, giving celestial light Until the morning sun begins to rise I’m captivated by such stunning skies Moonlight shadows always fascinate me Until the morning sun begins to rise I watch moonbeams dance on an inky sea Contest A Pantoum - A poet’s Choice. Sponsored by Eve Roper My personal best of 2016 - This is the first time I tried this form and I absolutely loved the end result Entered into contest sponsored by Frank Herrera Entered into my best rhyming poem from Jan - June 2016 Sponsored by John Hamilton 22~03~16


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Changing Sky

Come, watch with me my darling child, before you go to bed
Here, hold my hand, while evening comes and takes the day away
Evening shadows tiptoe to what the sun has said
And now it's time to listen,  to what the moon will say

Here, hold my hand, while evening comes and takes the day away
We'll watch the sun dip gently,  in the cooling twilight air
And now it's time to listen,  to what the moon will say
All the daytime weary creatures, have gone to nest and lair

We'll watch the sun dip gently in the cooling twilight air
Let's be witness to the fire that burns in evening's sky
All the daytime weary creatures, have gone to nest and lair
While twilight paints it's crimson colors on a canvas vast and wide 

Let's be witness to the fire that burns in evening's sky
Time suspends as if one moment, in this fragile hush of time
While twilight paints it's crimson colors on a canvas vast and wide 
And then we'll see the faintest trace of stars begin to climb

Time suspends as if one moment, in this fragile hush of time
So gently, watch the dark erase the last of fading light
And then we'll see the faintest trace of stars begin to climb
Enclosing us within the change,  of shadows of the night

So gently, watch the dark erase the last of fading light
Evening shadows tiptoe to what the sun has said
Enclosing us within the change,  of shadows of the night

Come, watch with me my darling child, before you go to bed...


____________
6//26/13


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

White Cane

He walked down Goverment Road West
With a white cane, in shaking hand
Wearing Stevie wonder glasses
People called him the pop bottle man

With a white cane, in shaking hand
At the time he seemed old to me
People called him the pop bottle man
Searching the alleys for his treasures

At the time he seemed old to me
Frail in a menacing sorta way
Searching the alleys for his treasures
Bottles he spotted a mile away

Frail in a menacing sorta way
Us kids all stayed away from him
Bottles he spotted a mile away
I wondered why he carried a white cane

Us kids all stayed away from him
Until that day I took a chance
I wondered why he carried a white cane
Curiosity got the best of me

Until that day I took a chance
That man had been a mystery
Curiosity got the best of me
When I asked him why he smiled at me

That man had been a mystery
A lonely guy wandering the street
When I asked him why, he smiled at me
I handed him my bottle, he said thanks

A lonely guy wandering the street
Wearing Stevie wonder glasses
I handed him my bottle, he said thanks
He walked down Goverment Road West

I watch

Pop Bottle Man
Doing his blind man shuffle
When he sees a bottle 
he moves towards it with ease
Dancing with glee 
a spring in his step
More fluid than a summer breeze

He can see at twenty paces
Eyesight crystal clear
Through dark glasses 
I watch him peer
Collecting his bottles
In plastic bags
The treasure that he holds so dear

Pop Bottle Man
His cane for protection
Illusion is the game he plays
What some see as crazy
May not be the case
If you take time to study his ways

For Gautami's Sketch a  Character Contest.

I was inspired to write more after the Pantoum because of Drakes Comment.
written by Richard Lamoureux on October 23, 2014.





Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Winter's Garden

High shadows loom on garden walls.
They tremble in the winter’s breeze.
As from the heavens powder falls,
they mimic naked limbs of trees.

They tremble in the winter’s breeze;
forlorn, they sway as low winds moan.
They mimic naked limbs of trees.
Frail shadows now have thicker grown.

Forlorn, they sway as low winds moan.
The winds surcease, no more to blow.
Frail shadows now have thicker grown.
On arms of trees are coats of snow!

The winds surcease, no more to blow.
As from the heavens powder falls,
on arms of trees are coats of snow.
High shadows loom on garden walls.


3/16/15 For the Repeat After Me contest of Rachael Firmin



Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Night - A Pantoum Lullaby

Night spreads its magic cloak of midnight blue across the sky. Serenity slips down. I sing this pantoum lullaby for you as stars, like sequins, sparkle all around. Across the sky, serenity slips down beneath moon’s watchful gaze and steady glow. As stars like sequins sparkle all around, drift into Dreamland with my lyrics’ flow. Beneath moon’s watchful gaze and steady glow, I sing each line and then a second time! Drift into Dreamland with my lyrics’ flow. How restful is sweet rhythm and its rhyme. I sing each line and then a second time at end of day when sky holds poetry. How restful is sweet rhythm and its rhyme. In repetition lies security. At end of day when sky holds poetry, I sing this pantoum lullaby for you. In repetition lies security. Night spreads its magic cloak of midnight blue. For the Night Silence Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Night Silence

Twilight evokes my tranquility and silence of the night, with my peaceful guidance between the moon and the stars, the placid eclipse in the universe is so calm and bright, I play my melodies so gently on my acoustic guitar. With my peaceful guidance between the moon and the stars, there is a symphony shining through the constellations, I play my melodies so gently on my acoustic guitar, between sundown and nightfall there is a correlation. There is a symphony shining through the constellations, I feel a tune so vibrant with echoes of a midnight chorus, between sundown and nightfall there is a correlation, I see the paragon moon reflect equanimity before us. I feel a tune so vibrant with echoes of a midnight chorus, the stillness exclaims compassion for the world to see, I see the paragon moon reflect equanimity before us, Mother Nature has created nocturnal brilliance, so free. The stillness exclaims compassion for the world to see, for some the silence of nightfall seems so hard to find, Mother Nature has created nocturnal brilliance, so free, as the halcyon dusk sets, ready for the destiny of mankind. For some the silence of nightfall seems so hard to find, the placid eclipse in the universe is so calm and bright, as the halcyon dusk sets, ready for the destiny of mankind, twilight evokes my tranquility and silence of the night. The Love Of Nature Contest Date Written: June 14, 2016


Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2016

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

He Was My Sun

He was my sun, my one and only son,
and dressed up as a cowboy for the day.
And so I handed him a little gun
of fastened random sticks, for him to shoot and play.

And dressed up as a cowboy for the day
he found some foes (with bows and arrows made
of fastened random sticks for them) to shoot, and play
the part of injuns in a mock charade.

He found some foes (with bows and arrows made)
in his story books before he left for school.
The parts of injuns, in a mock charade,
were tainted with a crimson war paint, oh so cruel.

In history books, before he left from school -
the tales retold, of victories that we’d won,
were tainted with a crimson war paint, oh so cruel -
the flow of paint was not to staunch when once begun.

From tales retold, of victories that we’d won,
he learned to fight for god and country glory, though
the flow of pain, ’twas not to staunch when once begun
and cruel to both sides (as he’d later come to know).

He learned to fight for god and country glory, though
the wounds of war were still unseen (though nigh)
and cruel to both sides (as we’d later come to know);
and soon he stuffed his bag with several things of youth and said goodbye.

The wounds of war were still unseen. Though nigh,
the hours boomed, the clock struck 12, before his time to leave,
and soon he stuffed his bag with several things of youth and said goodbye
to those who’d stay and even those who didn’t grieve.

The hours boomed, the clock struck 12, before his time to leave -
they brought back bags they’d stuffed with severed things of those who’d died
to those who’d stayed. And even those who didn’t grieve
with tears were stiff and masked like wooden boxes meant to hide.

They brought back bags they’d stuffed with severed things of those who’d died.
They brought his boots back, camouflaged with mud.
With tears, the stiff were masked in wooden boxes meant to hide
our children from the spilling of their blood.

They brought his boots back, camouflaged with mud.
They said they’d needed him to help defend
our children from the spilling of their blood.
But can they ever see or really comprehend?

They said they’d needed him to help defend,
and so they handed him a little gun.
But can they ever see or really comprehend?
He was my sun, my one and only son...



Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2012

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Marriage of Seasons

November’s sitting at her loom.
For gown of lace, a wrap she weaves,
And when she meets her dauntless groom,
They’ll dance among the fallen leaves.

For gown of lace, a wrap she weaves.
Her groom shall wear a silver suit.
They’ll dance among the fallen leaves,
Their special song, a lone owl’s hoot.

Her groom shall wear a silver suit.
She’ll don the woven pearl-gray shawl.
Their special song, a lone owl’s hoot,
They’ll waltz at Autumn’s farewell ball.

She’ll don the woven pearl-gray shawl,
And when she meets her dauntless groom,
They’ll waltz at Autumn’s farewell ball.
November’s sitting at her loom.

By Andrea Dietrich

For SandyIvy's Good Enough Poetry Contest


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

This song, it is for you

This song, it is for you Because my heart is singing All that I feel is true The happiness you’re bringing Because my heart is singing The sun is burning bright The happiness you’re bringing Chases away the night The sun is burning bright And though the nightmare lingers Chases away the night With friendly fiery fingers And though the nightmare lingers I shiver in your arms With friendly fiery fingers You keep me safe and warm I shiver in your arms You whisper in my ear You keep me safe and warm I want you always near You whisper in my ear The words that live within me I want you always near Two hearts, eternally The words that live within me All that I feel is true Two hearts, eternally This song, it is for you *** 1st place in contest Pantoum Poem, Judged October 16, 2016


Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

City of Joy,Kolkata,6 PM

Gradually she changes her dress at the end of this winter day like a beautiful stage actress preparing herself for a play. At the end of this winter day City of Joy as she is called preparing herself for a play diamond petals slowly unfurled. City of Joy as she is called wearing her glittering ornaments diamond petals slowly unfurled blooming like a rose God sent. Wearing her glittering ornaments anklet to bracelet of lights blooming like a rose God sent waiting for visitors of night. Anklet to bracelet of lights Howrah Bridge is her necklace waiting for visitors of night checks her face on the Ganges. Howrah Bridge is her necklace like a beautiful stage actress checks her face on the Ganges gradually she changes her dress. © kash poet 2012 **Click on "About this poem" to see her necklace,The Howrah Bridge ========================000======================== Placement:5th ;(January 2012) Contest:City Lights Sponsor:Debi Guzzie


Copyright © kash poet | Year Posted 2012

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

For Only A Moment

Did it have to last for only a moment,
our love withered before the flowers you sent,
white carnations, a pure love they meant,
a relationship so newfound and innocent.

Our love withered before the flowers you sent,
your early departure I could not prevent,
a relationship so newfound and innocent,
a memory lingers on like a sweet scent.

Your early departure I could not prevent,
white carnations, a pure love they meant,
a memory lingers on like a sweet scent,
did it have to last for only a moment.





Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Midnight In The Library

Around midnight, in the library I found myself drawn,
to these shelves haunted still by Poe, Stevenson and King,
as a rare, late October storm brews beyond the pane,
bringing life back to the creatures of Shelley and Stoker.

To these shelves, haunted still by Poe, Stevenson and King,
my fingers grasp a book from under the dust and webs,
bringing life back, to the creatures of Shelley and Stoker,
it's well-worn, leather spine just waiting to chill my own.

My fingers grasp a book, from under the dust and webs,
while autumn winds rustle leaves like crisp, yellowed paper,
it's well-worn leather spine, just waiting, to chill my own,
my head, sinking further back into the velvet-lined chair.

While autumn winds rustle, leaves like crisp, yellowed paper,
candlelight flickers dimly across the tattered old pages,
my head sinking further, back into the velvet-lined chair,
where the ghosts of Irving and Dickens will not let me sleep.

Candlelight flickers dimly, across the tattered, old pages,
I, unable to recline, with the shadows thrown by the fire,
where the ghosts, of Irving and Dickens, will not let me sleep,
residents of the dark welcome, and wait to be revisited.

I, unable to recline with the shadows, thrown by the fire,
as a rare, late October storm brews, beyond the pane,
residents of the dark, welcome and wait, to be revisited,
around midnight, in the library, I found myself... drawn.






Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Heavenly Kiss

You flew to me from beyond the clouds
Sent to soothe my troubled heart
I felt the warmth of your kiss on my forehead 
In that moment my sadness blew away

Sent to soothe my troubled heart
You looked deep within my very soul
In that moment my sadness blew away
With your help I escaped the gray

You looked deep within my very soul
A breath of light into the darkness
With your help I escaped the gray
Your angel eyes looked into mine

A breath of light into the darkness
So much comfort yet no words spoken
Your angel eyes looked into mine
For me a glimpse of heaven's glory

So much comfort yet no words spoken
I felt the warmth of your kiss on my forehead
For me a glimpse of heaven's glory
You flew to me from beyond the clouds


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Wayward Child

Ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide
grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passions now abide
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now, alone bereft.

Grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left:
beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide;
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now alone, bereft.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside.

Beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide,
we conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief. 
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief.

We conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief. 
In cold or torrid waves, spent passion now abides,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief,
ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide.





Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Take Me Back

Faded photographs; a sentimental knick knack; a much loved movie from so many years ago. The times I chance on things like these, it takes me back. The person that I used to be, I hardly know. A much loved movie from so many years ago - so out of style today, not like it used to seem. The person that I used to be, I hardly know. Time brought me swiftly to the Now. It seems a dream. So out of style today, not like it used to seem - that saved old pair of jeans; that certain special song. Time brought me swiftly to the Now. It seems a dream, I grow unsure if in this new world I belong. That saved old pair of jeans; that certain special song; the times I chance on things like these, they take me back. I grow unsure if in this new world I belong. Faded photographs; a sentimental knick knack!
Inspired by Paula Swanson's "Back to Back" Contest


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

''Beautiful Scars''


      These scars on my soul are beautiful and painful,
Deep gashes that cannot be seen except in my eyes;
           The sorrow I keep within me is dreadful,
My short life has been full of death and whys.

      Deep gashes that cannot be seen except in my eyes,
I thought the passage of time would heal the scars;
            My short life has been full of death and whys,
At night all my beloved are the sparkling stars.

      I thought the passage of time would heal the scars,
I take two white roses to the tomb of my babies;
            At night my beloved are the sparkling stars,
My forever grief is full of long past sweet reveries.

      I take two white roses to the tomb of my babies,
Weeping I touch all the names engraved in stone;
           My forever grief is full of long past reveries,
Within my soul the forever sorrow still moans.

      Weeping I touch all the names engraved in stone,
Yet from this pain something beautiful was to be;
            Within my soul the forever sorrows still moan,
And I write from a scarred soul my sad poetry.

      Yet from this pain something beautiful was to be,
The sorrow I keep within me is dreadful;
            And I write from a scarred soul my poetry,
These scars on my soul are beautiful and painful.

_________________________
Written, November 2015

Pantoum/"Beautiful Scars"
Copyright Protected, ID 735565

Submitted to the contest, Your Personal Favorite Poem
Sponsor, Ironic Zink

Third Place

__________________________________
Submitted to the contest, Your Absolute Best, The Seeker, Fourth Place

Submitted to the contest, A Poem You Are Proud OF, Skat, Fourth Place

Submitted to the contest, Favorite, sponsor, Casarah Nance, First Place 

Submitted to the contest, Best Old Poem, sponsor, Judy Konos, First Place

Submitted to the contest, Beautiful Scars, sponsor, Laura Loo, Second Place

Featured poem on Arthur Vaso's poetry site, 2016

Put to music, 2015

Poem Of The Day, December 17, 2015


Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Your Touch Means So Much

Your Touch Means So Much
 
Your touch means so much to me my love,
As we hold each other with intense passion.
We know our love has God’s blessing above;
Our bond for eternity shall always be in fashion.   

As we hold each other with intense passion,
We dazzle with emotion pure on this Earth.
Our bond for eternity shall always be in fashion,
As we approach our souls’ nexus of rebirth.

We dazzle with emotion pure on this Earth.
We know our love has God’s blessing above,
As we approach our souls’ nexus of rebirth.
Your touch means so much to me my love.

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, 
July 31, 2015 (Pantoum)



Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

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You are in my blood

If I bleed will that be enough for you?
I am willing to place my heart on the floor.
To be crushed beneath your stilettoed heel!
For this heart is of no use without your love.

I'm willing to place my heart on the floor,
so that you can discover my truth inside.
For this heart is of no use without your love.
Please pick up my heart with delicate hands

So that you can discover the truth inside,
I will no longer hide anything from you!
Please pick up my heart with delicate hands?
Within my blood is the essence of you.

I will no longer hide anything from you.
Today and tommorow bleed from yesterday.
Within my blood is the essence of you!
Dreams dreamt on our seemingly endless nights...

Today and tomorrow bleed from yesterday,
to be crushed beneath your stilettoed heel.
Dreams dreamt on our seemingly endless nights...
If I bleed will that be enough for you?

For Anthony Slausen's "In Your Blood Contest"


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

My Crazy Dream

My crazy dream is to begin again back when I ran breathless in fields of green, enchanted and well past the age of ten, yet back when my slate of life was still quite clean. Back when I ran breathless in fields of green, a woman child, and not so innocent, yet back when my life’s slate was still quite clean, crazier I’d be, never hesitant! A woman child, and not so innocent, sweeter than fiction I’d make each romance. Crazier I’d be, never hesitant. I’d jump then fall, and always I would dance. Sweeter than fiction I’d make each romance. My Superman I‘d know this time around! I’d jump then fall, and always I would dance. Much smarter now, I’d still be safe and sound. My superman I’d know this time around. At men more treacherous I now would scoff. Much smarter now, I would be safe and sound, and every woe - I’d simply shake it off! At men more treacherous I now would scoff. The lucky one, I’d see life through new eyes, And every woe - I’d simply shake it off. Inside my wildest dreams, I could be wise. The lucky one, I’d see life through new eyes. Everything has changed. I want to be inside my wildest dreams! I could be wise - yet back when starlight still shone bright for me! Everything has changed. I want to be enchanted and well past the age of ten, yet back when starlight still shone bright for me. My crazy dream is to begin again! Written May 30, 2016 for the Musical Pantoum Contest of Silent One
At least one Taylor Swift song title used per line and verse (each line is repeated) L1 V1 and L4 V8: Begin Again L2 V1 and L1 V2: Breathless L3 V1 and L2 V8: Enchanted L4 V1 and L3 V2: Clean L2 V2 and L1 V3: Innocent L4 V2 and L3 V3: Crazier L2 V3 and L1 V4: Sweeter than Fiction L4 V3 and L3 V4: Jump Then Fall L2 V4 and L1 V5: Superman L4 V4 and L3 V5: Safe and Sound L2 V5 and L1 V6: Treacherous L4 V5 and L3 V6: Shake It Off L2 V6 and L1 V7: The Lucky One L4 V6 and L3 V7: Wildest Dreams L2 V7 and L1 V8: Everything Has Changed L4 V7 and L3 V8: Starlight


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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Summer Wind of Sea

Bless me with the magic you possess,
wafting balm of coolness through the air.
Summer wind of sea, erase my stress
as I languish beachside in this chair.

Wafting balm of coolness through the air,
soothe my mind and breathe sweet peace to me.
As I languish beachside in this chair,
whisper in my ear . . . tranquility.

Soothe my mind and breathe sweet peace to me.
Fan my sun-drenched face, oh, gentle breeze.
Whisper in my ear. . . tranquility.
Do refresh! I’m feeling so at ease.

Fan my sun-drenched face, oh, gentle breeze.
Summer wind of sea, erase my stress.
Do refresh! I’m feeling so at ease.
Bless me with the magic you possess!


By Andrea Dietrich
Motif:  Nature



Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Leather Jacket

Leather jacket draped over her shoulders
My feeble attempt at gallantry
Protecting sweet maiden from the cold
A small smile spreads over her face

My feeble attempt at gallantry
Still I longed for the rain to reveal her breasts
A small smile spreads over her face
The rain would have soaked her blouse

Still I longed for the rain to reveal her breasts
The fabric clinging to those lovely curves
The rain would have soaked her blouse
We ran together my hand around her waist

The fabric clinging to those lovely curves
I could feel her softness my heart pounding
We ran together my hand around her waist
Coming to rest under an old oak tree

I could feel her softness my heart pounding
She allowed my hands to explore
Coming to rest under an old oak tree
Lips joined as my jacket fell to the ground

She allowed my hands to explore
My feeble attempt at Gallantry
Created the moment that brought me here
A small smile spreads over her face


I broke the Pantoum form with the very last line but
I prefer it this way. Besides, my hands were already engaged.

Leather Jacket on Shoulders Contest
 


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

Details | Pantoum Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Kitten and Butterflies

Kitty in Butterfly Garden

They say I’m curious, but what of these?
These strange miniature beautiful things!
They flutter like aqua leaves in the breeze.
How fragile they seem with soft powder wings.

These strange miniature beautiful things!
They fell like petals that snatched blue from sky.
How fragile they seem with soft powder wings.
Not giving them chase, among them I lie.

They fell like petals that snatched blue from sky
down to the ground where they now surround me.
Not giving them chase, among them I lie
in this garden of them, grown magically.

Down to the ground where they now surround me,
they flutter like aqua leaves in the breeze
in this garden of them, grown magically.
They say I’m curious, but what of these?


 March 15, 2016


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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The Fairest of All the Roses

The fairest of all the roses in the walled garden’s afternoon hush, this blossom delicately poses, making the other blooms blush, In the walled garden’s afternoon hush, while standing enticingly making the other blooms blush, is a beauty gazing at me. While standing enticingly, with her soft upswept auburn hair, is a beauty gazing at me. She answers this lonely man’s prayer! With soft upswept auburn hair; in her long flowing gown of white, she answers this lonely man’s prayer, making the garden grow bright. In her long flowing gown of white, this blossom delicately poses, making the garden grow bright - the fairest of all the roses! For the George Dunlop Leslie Poetry Contest of Isaiah Zerbst
The Picture is called "In Walled Garden" See at this link: http://www.ebay.com/itm/GEORGE-DUNLOP-LESLIE-In-Walled-Garden-print-NEW-/190409030838


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

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The Golden Hour

Gorgeous boy, your skin shines in the sun’s golden hour.
Waves of your jet-black hair, short-cropped like Caesar's 
dripping tendrils on a chiseled brow, wisps beside each ear
A bare-chested Apollo cycles in low-slung shorts.

Waves of your jet-black hair, short-cropped like Caesar's, 
my ardeur imagines eyes a molten sapphire blue.
A bare-chested Apollo cycles in low-slung shorts,
calves taunt, thigh muscles pumping, a true stallion.

My ardeur imagines eyes a molten sapphire blue.
surely, the night sky is less beautiful than your eyes,
Legs with calves taunt, thigh muscles pumping, a stallion,
lovely man-child, whose dreams will you soon make true?

Surely, the night sky is less beautiful than your eyes.
Dripping tendrils on a chiseled brow, wisps beside each ear,
lovely man-child, whose dreams will you soon make true?
Gorgeous boy, your skin shines in the sun’s golden hour.



Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011