Best Passer By Poems
See how the ocean glides back in to kiss the shore?
In my minds eye
They have met on this sand floor
Many times before
With a soft caress on the sly.
See how the ocean glides back in to kiss the shore?
As birds soar
High
They have met on this sand floor.
He brings shells and driftwood for her to explore
Then leaves being shy.
See how the ocean glides back in to kiss the shore?
Could a lover ask for anymore?
She says nigh.
They have met on this sand floor
Declaring their love as if no one has done it before
To any passer by.
See how the ocean glides back in to kiss the shore?
They have met on this sand floor......
Categories:
passer by, beach, beauty, blessing, heaven,
Form:
Villanelle
I wish to be the gentle breeze
Sweeping tearful eyes
Of the weary midday flower.
Or to be the horrid shadow
Casting fearful darkness
For a passer-by to rest.
A rippling river of white
I wish to be the one
Drenching thirst of arid earth.
Or to be a dancing wave
Of the mighty sea
Playing with a child.
A guild of fleeting clouds
Hiding splendid sun
For a homeless soul,
Or the canopy of green
Thwarting rain for a home,
I wish to be the one.
I wish to be a cresset
Guiding glimpse of hope
In the prosaic paths of pangs
Or to be a firefly
In the dim toilsome journey
Of a soul to his divine home.
Categories:
passer by, emotions, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
They needed help
Walking alone in the dark.
The man.
The child.
A broken down car.
The child frightened,
But not understanding
The terror
That would soon
Come her way.
Her parents petrified
That their baby was gone,
Agonizing
Over forbidden images
That crowded their way
Past ice cream sundays
And birthday parties
And wedding days.
A passer-by.
A doer of good deeds.
He stops.
He sees.
He looks into
the little girl's eyes.
Bravely
The girl speaks,
"This is not my dad"
And the coward
who took her,
He runs.
He hides.
The passer-by,
Believing he saved
A child
From a long, cold walk,
In reality
Saved a child
From a long, cold death.
Categories:
passer by, angel, child, courage, dad,
Form:
Narrative
B-R-E-A-T-H - OF - L-O-V-E
Summer sun or winter freeze pulls heartstrings in trapeze. . .
Cotton soft to gnarled callus vows have thread along my way
embroidering ribbon actions to pliant swings of reactions
like a darting fish thrilled to catch a passer-by knees.
Two pairs of eye sew webs to bridge affection display,
pines teeming green crown my arrested heart--
tachycardic I am... each time I hear your sound.
Has breath of love tickled my nerves to interaction?
Like a bee I'm drawn to your sweet ambiance 'round
hoping by miracle it will birth me a fresh start.
Scents that streams from bulbs swirl on wafting wind--
Ah! They all fell to shame for your breath of love tames.
Once a rebel soul that long been thriving for satisfaction
with breath of love that resuscitates, I mend my flame
channeling muse to stroke the peak density of mind.
Slender February breeze taunt my fingers
to type rhymes that shy edge of reason.
Eternally plunge in surrender
I-- filled with breath of love ships my horizons
to script stories in shades that lingers. . .
______________________________________________
***Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name your Favourite Old Poem
++Placed 3rd++
©O.E. Guilermo
12:31 pm, February 07, 2015
Categories:
passer by, inspiration, life, love, relationship,
Form:
Quintain (English)
Vase Dream - c'est la vie
White vase with no design
Dangling there - c'est la vie
I think somewhere in Center City
Apart from everything
In an apartment rising skyward
Lingering on the edge of ledge
Standing tall atop a railing raw
Languishing over the 20th Floor
Or there about
And more - c'est la vie
The balcony did its’ best of course
Displaying the fragile curves
Morning sun light danced approval
Around bouncing beams above the surface
But nothing could stop a soft breeze from…
Poof!.....And off it went… c'est la vie
An alert French man
Pastry smile and all
Happened along
With left handed nimble fingers caressing a Beaujolais 42
The other hand stretched out with stress
As if to field an errant football pass
And in that chance encounter…Catch!...
Tumbling to concrete boundaries down
Bottle released in a wincing crash
Ground favored his mortal urgency
Pottery saved - c'est la vie
Intact
French man’s head cracked
Let’s say opened
Something like an egg
A natural death ensued - c'est la vie
A passer-by seized the moment
Lifted vase and fled
Made off down and dirty
An ally
Another fate for vase awaits
Less encumbered
In a land far away
To dream of ledges - c'est la vie
If so inclined
Or so designed
Modified on 10/21/14 for - c'est la vie - Poetry Contest
Categories:
passer by, adventure, change, fun, happy,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I enjoy turning the cow's milk sour
as they graze on me hour by hour
Simply because the farmers you see
Run their tractors straight over me!
I have sunset flowers of Yellow
And most of the time I'm mellow
I light up the fields for those passer by
And hear them exclaim, "Oh My Oh My
But out of respect I'll simply say
Enjoy my color and have a nice day!
-----------------------------------------------
Bitterweed means toxic
Categories:
passer by, identity,
Form:
Rhyme
Wilderness is a crowded street.
Silence stings the ears of the hearer,
Cacophony of sound, unheard.
Loneliness turns to solitude,
Converse without a word.
Wilderness is a crowded street.
A passer-by nobody sees.
Togetherness now disjointed,
Run! I feel their disease.
Money is their mind set
Full wallet yet they're poor.
A heart of gold inside me,
Theirs, an open sore!
Some own the World, yet are bankrupt,
Emotionally discharged black-holes.
Shiny shoes that point to nowhere,
Prices, still on their soles.
All the broken people,
Nobody tells me why.
Orphaned, divorced, mistaken,
I'll not lay down to die.
To roll over and just take it,
Is what they'd like us to do.
So let's all speak out, be counted,
Not be part, of the Zoo!
Categories:
passer by, business, career, city, class,
Form:
Quatrain
She smiled at him on the stairwell
He smiled at the man at the door,
He in turn said "Good Morning"
To the lady sweeping the floors.
She nodded at the passer by
Who then turned around,
And gave a smile to the little girl
Who was wearing such a frown.
The little girl started laughing
And simply passed it on
To her Mother who was with her,
Then they hummed a little song.
The painter in the hallway
Felt tired, and very blue,
Till the old gentleman said
"What a beautiful job you do".
If we would do this everyday
It moves along in stages,
When you smile at everyone
It truly is contagious.
Lynn Barany
Categories:
passer by, people, smile,
Form:
Light Verse
In My Life’s Peaceful Interlude
Midlife for me was a peaceful interlude.
After my children left the nest,
there had been a climax of sorts.
Poetry had come; it flowed to me.
I’d spend long afternoons in sun’s warm glow,
happily attacking sheets of paper with my pen.
In my life’s interlude, I felt formidable -
as though I could live another fifty years. . .
and all would be well.
How I wish this feeling were immutable!
One evening visiting a nursing home,
I beheld an elderly lady sitting demurely at a table.
Her image was a graceful sketch in grey
which imprinted itself indelibly on my mind.
As she sat, so well-composed, although her hands trembled,
I noticed her frailty and how brittle her old bones had to be,
yet there she sat, this aged woman, lighting up the room
as she smiled at me!
I have always felt life to be tenuous,
but examples of that are coming faster now
as my old friends and acquaintances vanish from the earth.
Trials of my own have now assailed me,
and still I write and wonder. . .
Should I somehow manage to live a century
as that old woman surely had done,
and should I become bereft
from the inevitable losses the future is sure to bring me,
might I sit and manage as gracefully as she
a brightly lit-up smile for a passer-by?
Nov. 3, 2017 for John Hamilton's 'Eight word challenge -5' Poetry Contest
Words used in the poem: 1. Brittle 2. Immutable 3. Formidable 4. Tenuous 5. Interlude 6. Sketch 7. Bereft 8. Demurely
Categories:
passer by, life,
Form:
Free verse
The birth of Jesus is the cause for us to celebrate.
No Frankincense and Myrrh; we’ve learned a different trait.
Some celebrate in splendour the manger and the hay -
driving home to join Jesus and are missing Christmas day.
One hundred Christmas dinners never make the plate.
No one wants their presents, Christmas cake or celebrate.
The empty chair is stared upon; no one has the taste,
so one hundred Christmas dinners go to waste.
To a stranger whose been lucky in the run to Christmas day,
who reads a little paragraph that’s quickly thrown away.
Never gives a second thought for those in time of need.
Just one less for Christmas is a message they should heed.
On the other side of life, death has left a sudden sting.
There is a hundred people where this message has to cling.
Kin and friends must gather to farewell a parting soul -
Christmas day means nothing when the need is to console.
One hundred Christmas dinners never make the plate.
No one wants their presents, Christmas cake or celebrate.
The empty chair is stared upon; no one has the taste,
so one hundred Christmas dinners go to waste.
Silver bells on tinsel strips decorate the room.
Flashing lights in windows hide the reigning gloom.
A passer by would note the house is full of Christmas cheer.
Christmas time will be recalled - for this memory each year.
Christmas time will be recalled - for this memory each year.
Categories:
passer by, christmas, heartbroken,
Form:
Lyric
The woods hissed and sn*ggered but weren't without their charms
A ghostly silloette in the distance like a girl without her arms
A floating figure, lifted as if hung down from yarn, puppet like
Blocked out some light as the moon rose into sudden night
A puddle, suprized by the kick of life it was given
Dived over the crimson clothing of a passer by
Not batting an eye the shadow glides an leaps in wind
Approaching a tree supporting a corpse beneath its limbs
The breeze's secretive so it seems the bodies breathin' sings
Arrived. A cloak hides its features, a bag opens, it reaches in
Still speachless in the shower, yet no wet words to greet us
Though now a mouths visible behind work of an expert seemstress
Wild weather beats the woodland creatures deep undercover
All but two inhabitants, the hooded one.. & one other
Our second stood, furred thickly, big teeth in a brown jaw
Having difficulty reading, vision blurred by the downpour
Lit by light the town brought, a poster was just clear enough
''Assassin Wanted! If you catch the killer, fear you should
For finding this foe will bring, not tears, but blood
And a reward of 10 g's for anyone, police.. even Robin Hood'
The final statement sent shivers up his spine, an how then?
The King hated Robin, and the Queen signed the announcement
Heart poundin' at the thought of ten big ones he couldn't wait for
The character reread the paper, rapid fast.. just to make sure
Sure enough the word was good, but the woods weren't silent
A twig broke, someone close quitely worked beside him
The tree sustaining the message had been blocking them from view
The otherside was a hooded person, white stockings an gloves on too
The hood moved......and the disguise unravelled
It was Red Riding Hood picking mushrooms the size of apples
Categories:
passer by, change, surreal,
Form:
AND I'M HUNGRY FOR YOU
Three days passed, Billy again is sitting relax in his favorite place. Smile flower from his face as he watch closely a single file of shadows on the wall. He is envious that these ants are more systematic and resourceful in gathering their bread and butter.
my need, my want, my
feelings of desire arise
by the smell of foods
Billy's hollow excited eyes accompanied by spiderlike hands
cram to spoon the fallen scattered crumbs of rice and biscuits
from a passer by on the rough dirty floor.
Today, I desire
an eat all you can meal treat
"all" including filth
He is done eating all crumbs but still a lion growls inside his stomach,
he ran like a train to ask her mama for milk but how can he suck--
... when fertile breasts two weeks now is suffering drought.
parasitical
technically edible----
I am eating you
_____________________________________________________________
8:41 pm; July 27, 2015
Categories:
passer by, absence, children, desire, feelings,
Form:
Haibun
Sitting on top of the mountain
I was exclaiming at the beauty
of a sunset I wouldn't want a life
without nature in it.
Now as I age I face far greater
limitations,
I felt so many varieties
of emptiness lately.
I need to block the
meaningful communication,
and be willing to become
transformed to ignore
what my ego is saying,
and listen to my soul.
I have but one dream
that's my family,
one heart that's me in them
with them no matter
wherever they are,
near or far we will reach
that star, we will spend
much time as a family,
it never happened .
My life is sad although
I did nothing that bad
to deserve to live,
as lonesome as it can get.
I yearn to live a life
where all is bright
and everything is alright
before losing my insight.
That is why unfortunately
my choices and options
became more limited.
Living in the past
I had to learn how to live
my life with those restrictions,
imposed on me due to our
financial circumstances,
because of the sixteen years
of war in our country.
My heart is homeless
escaped to lay on a pavement,
beg a passer by offer a tissue
to wipe away the unspoken,
that was hiding in me
for years.
Oh! twister, whirl me strongly
towards spring showers,
wet my brain with a drop
of water to surface intact,
accept that my loneliness
is doomed.
Alone I am.
Therese Bacha
14 September
2014 Contest for PD. A poem never put in a contest before.
Categories:
passer by, nostalgia, writing,
Form:
Free verse
Lost...
I am dormant on the ground
In a dark alley not to be found.
A board opposite me writ in red,
Lifeless I am, please no tip,
money I have, but my soul
deserted me, thats why I am here.
Useless...
When a passer by stared at me heartless,
how lucky you are old lady, the courage
you have, to just sit daily on that floor,
With blankness in your eyes, deafness
in your ears, motionless you are,
mindless so far, faceless, even tearless,
not one tear to shed over your soulless
to cure it's pain.
Old lady...
Your emptiness and soundless will leave
you homeless.
Why today you specifically want to remain
dreamless.
Your nakedness is seen, your spirit turned
against you dissolved into the running
stream.
Shameless...
Tell me please, look at me?
Why are you here not there?
Why do you stare, its not fair?
Answer me, how long have you
Made this space your home?
Aren't you the one living
In that elderly home?.
Forgetfulness...
Everybody is searching for you
they need to find you harmless.
What shall I tell them?
Your going away never
to comeback and stay?
Dizziness...
Say it, she just shook her head.
Please sing a song while walking back
to where you belong.
I am the passer by remain strong
hold my hand, your lover wants
you back, he still is sustained
on his hospital bed.
He loves you, begs you to comeback
to see you one more time, before
wishing you a goodbye.
She remained homeless,
as nothing will ever
feel the same.
Therese Bacha
7 August 2013
Categories:
passer by, heartbroken, inspirational,
Form:
Prose Poetry
A blind man fell into a pit
In a public garden in Tougan
Can I pull you out?
Shouted a passer-by
No! He shouted and screamed and lamented;
I prefer starving to death in this pit.
Why not jump out and save your life?
No! B’cos I have loved without obtaining love.
Don’t you know Mr. Blind man!
That Love is blind?
Yes! Love is blind,
But the blind is not loved.
So I have chosen intentionally
To end my life in this pit,
When he was rescued by the police
He cursed and promised to kill the constable
Who pulled and forced him out.
This blind man,
Is a crazy blind man of Tougan.
Categories:
passer by, adventure, africa, betrayal, death,
Form:
Free verse