Best Pattering Poems
My cherished one...
Here I am ,alone with stone wall paper
in the silence of my room.
The pit-pattering raindrops upon my windowsill
help me to remember, outside is cold and vacant too.
Here I lay , on my dark brown couch
like on other nights and many afternoons.
Here I stay ,undisturbed ,with a pen in my left hand
Provoked to put black ink to paper
Seduced to write down unconscious thoughts
Terminal thoughts and deepest aches
wrapped in the echo of your absence.
If only you 'd knew , my rose was not seasonal
Its crimson still bleeds ,like in yesterdays , now gone.
Its perfume still lingers between forgotten postcards
and the impossibility of separation.
Its petals once blown , still float across the boundless ocean
The same ocean that moves ,that spreads breathlessly
between our lands , our lips and hands, but not our hearts
Nor the hundred fantasies that still reveal your footprints
along my distant winding paths .
Inspired by Adele's latest song - 'Hello '
I thought I had forgotten
the end of summertime,
I thought I stopped remembering
that last night you were mine.
Moments side by side
before fresh petals dried.
But like an autumn sun in skies of blue,
Low I sink in you.
Recalling our slow dance
far from crowds and friends,
My fleeting light through leaves,
through thoughts and quiet love
in cobbled narrow streets.
To first October rain
pit-pattering in streams
Flowing,slowly falling
like early threaded dreams.
Swaying,gently playing
sad fluting melodies.
But like an autumn sun in skies of blue,
Low I sink in you.
Suddenly I think,I think of you.
Upon your tired shoulders
I set my orange hue.
Last night I lay in the darkness of my room
like i always do
Me, a dim lamplight and thoughts of you
my only companions
Everything was still
Till I could listen to first pit pattering of raindrops
Upon my. Windowsill
Falling, falling gently
down my amber rose leaves garden.
Falling gently ,wildly, gushing , drumming,
Like your heart beat on those scented nights
in the hallway by the fireplace, face to face
I wondered if water shadows were there too
In a distant land, in another path and in a different time
I wondered if you think of me too,over a cup of tea
whilst reading your newspaper,
or just sitting in your porch..I wondered..
Last night I sat, staring off into space.
My newspaper not opened.
My lemon tea gone cold.
Everything so still,
until the rain started to fall,
dripping slowly, rhythmically, then faster, faster,
harder, harder, quicker, quicker
splattering onto the broken concrete sidewalk
pounding like the beat of my heart
when we cuddled under the moonlit sky.
I wondered do you ever think of me
does the moon bring back memories
do you lie awake at night in your room
dreaming of me....I wondered..
Lessons of Autumn
Summaries of schooling
— lessons upon lessons guiding
Thoughts in class after class…as bells ring…
Volumes to consider about ways of interpreting…
As the world takes Life on a continuous spin
— round and around — outside and within —
Orbits, tides, seasons, moods, visions…
Lessons taught that Winter is The Dead or Hibernating;
Spring is Re-birth; Summer is The Growing;
And Autumn? Well, students were asked to see
— symbollically, spiritually, scientifically —
That Autumn is the season of Dying, of Leaving.
Autumn, the antithesis of Spring;
Autumn, the harvesting, the taking away
from the earth Spring’s born and
Summer’s grown.
Autumn is the drying, wilting, wrinkling;
The changing from acting to waiting…
And ending.
But, in Autumn, Mother Nature displays
Some greater lessons using God’s deeper palette:
To layer by layer paint, and year by year present
How Autumn’s weeks pass on
Gifting the hemispheres with her splendors
In a glorious prelude to turning with life,
Tier upon tier, into a new year.
All around, Autumn transforms the landscape
From too monochrome into blended tones
Of copper…and red…and yellow aside goldened greens
That shiver before the backing blankets
of violet horizons;
And often the trees for awhile, may even
lean in together to endure
The colder winds and rains pattering.
~ When sweeping Autumn begins,
Leaf by leaf breaks off from branches and twigs…
And, by design created, floats down,
Each laying on a palm of air, to soften
The fall ~
The living in nature all have their seasons…As we
Too, grow on the many branching pathways of our own,
Hopefully learning the value and beauty
In the circling of all time’s teaching seasons…
As each and every leaf sways, wafts, flutters, twirls,
Slowly waltzing down to the waiting earth,
To lay there, with such vibrant color,
Over the dust that made us.
Autumn always,
is time’s heavy curtain,
Taking its cue to fall…
——————————————————————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 10/2023
It was reported that she had died,
but I saw her
months after the obituary.
She came to me in a dream naturally,
the mind has to be as relaxed
as a three-toed-sloth
before it can report any intelligence to us.
I knew her, the way a distant relative
knows you from an old black and white photo.
Anastasia: a crazy name for an Irish woman,
but actually quite common
in the long buried book of Celtic Memories.
I was hanging-out under my eyelids,
the way a winter sun hangs under a winter tree,
or a sloth hangs from a moist lichen reverie
maybe.
When Anastasia - her 80 year old hair
flying on countless dove-gray moonbeams
came to me,
a pitter-pattering of soft rain
falling onto my big, round, brown,
dreaming eyes.
“I am not dead, and you are not dead.”
She said.
I should have been afraid
but fear takes much more energy
than I had at that moment.
I heard myself answer:
“Then you are alive”?
The soft rain continued to speak:
“Did I say that”?
That’s all I remember.
Later, just for we big thinkers,
I commenced to rummage
through the long buried book
of Celtic Memories.
It was then that, ever so slowly,
I remembered.
The pounding of my heart
Echoes in my ears
Of the things that made it beat
All throughout the years
The fondness for my friends
Echoes back to me
Some of whom I've known
For half a century
The pattering lover’s beat
Echoes in my soul
A rhythm that sounds so sweet
From the girl who makes me whole
The fatherly, thumping sound
Echoes throughout the house
From the love for our children
In tandem with my spouse
The echoes of your heart
Will put a smile upon your face
As long as it beats
From being in the right place
Eagerly I arose to welcome winsome spring
Anticipating an ebullient, sun-swept morning
Only to witness opaline skies turn gloomy
Shrouded in dampness of rain pitter pattering
Swirling dust emanating petrichor themes
Scattering dreariness on visage of dawning.
You too were awed, extolling scenic setting,
Lauding crimson hues that darkened swiftly,
Adulating rustling winds swaying maple trees
With echoes of thunder heard intermittently
As gray clouds hung closer, roiling hastily,
Pouring down streams, flooding streets rapidly.
Farther in distance, storm was now fleeting
Where sun’s golden rays began emerging
Scintillating mountains in amber ray beams
Lifting my spirits in birds’ rhythmic chirping
As your intimations warbled amorous hints
Arousing rhythms of romantic heart strings.
Charmed by tempo of dawn’s chromatic arc
As rising sun vanquished remnants of dark,
Lovingly we embraced missives of love spark
Echoing lyrics strummed by doting hearts,
Drawing inspiration from gilded azure skies,
Hypnotized in allure of your enamored eyes.
November 11, 2022
Placed 1st: Inspiring Rainy Days Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Listen to the sound the rain makes,
As it drums out it's own special tune;
Tapping a mystic melody,
On windows and roof tops and dunes.
Lulling the weary traveler,
And soothing the cares of the day;
Calming the troubled spirit,
And chasing my blues away.
Pattering 'gainst my window,
It chases away my frown,
As with warm cup of tea and a blanket,
I hurry to get settled down.
Outside the rain patters merrily,
Inviting me come out and play.
Inside I'm cozy and comfy,
I'll go out some other day.
For now I'll enjoy the music,
On rooftop and window panes.
All comfy and warm I'll sit her and watch,
As raindrops play little games.
Scurrying 'cross my window,
And making small rivers and streams,
As children in bright colored raincoats,
Chase paper boats through my dreams.
Pattering rain shattering on grey road
With grisly green umbrella she troad
In a black attire looking ghostly white
Her red woeful eyes sending fearful jilt.
Watery moon painting yellowish lips
Frozen fear dancing on pink finger tips
Her flowing hair sweeping pain of ashes
An orange lamp blinking passing wishes.
Violet blooms falling from whining trees
Covering brown earth - a graveyard in pleas
Ah nature, dull and dreary, standing still
Her fervid eloquence under blue spill.
My canary cage cried a fearful moan
While eyes shifted, into thin air she gone.
Third Place in STRAND PICK 8,any theme,any form Poetry Contest sponsored by Brian Strand
"It happened at dusk, on the eve of my bed
a series of symphonies out of my head
Whistles and pattering, octaves outstretched
Violins wailing and tubas distressed
Starlight shone into my window in white
heaving my breath with this musical sight
leaving my features and shadows in grey
while the melody mastery started to play
First all the strings, then came the percussion
Brass building stamina, with no discussion
Drums most determined and then all at once
the notes of the piano, fortissimo jaunt
Lights popped and fizzled and wrinkled in time
Walls bending backwards a musical rhyme
Bass like a heart beat moving the air
all in the blink of an eye, I was there.
My skin soaked and battered, my eyes shining bright
all concentrating on motion, on flight
After they slowed I beamed with devotion
and stood on my tiptoes, a standing ovation
I've packed solidarity into my chest
to tell you this story, to truly impress
for it happened at dusk on the eve of my bed
a series of symphonies out of my head"
Tinseled moments adorning a little blue spruce of sheen
he's a benefactor suited red, no he can never be mean
Snowflakes caked upon a lit up window in a twinkling room
the scent of sweet vanilla and Christmas sweet perfume
Little fuzzy red slippers pattering around before midnight
a crunch of cookie, a sip of milk on the table by the light,
Reindeers on rooftops elves in green tights chimney smoke
He gets away with a tug of his beard, he is such a happy bloke
Eggnog and truffles a sniffle or two opening presents until two
its a baby Jesus day, Merry Christmas & Happy New Years too.
December 21, 2020
Why do you haunt me dear cousin of mine
I desperate to leave all this sorrow behind!
But how can I wash from my young memory
Or chisel your face from our family tree?
The laughter and giggles and joys at the park
Mama in the kitchen and songs of the lark
The rain on the rooftop like pattering feet
Like toddling cousins in childhood sweet.
The mists off the river moistened each face
Niagara's cool waters in our childhood place
My soul screams in agony "Oh....what have you done?"
The mud pies long dried in the afternoon sun
But muddied in rains of those tears that we cried
When our family was torn to no longer abide
And the quest for the West pulled us children apart,
You were pulled away, and it shattered your heart.
But remember the rays of those once sunny days?
Mud pies on the riverbank memory stays.
But those memories muddied and bloodied for years
for when you took your life
Left us drowning
in tears.
Sunshine can be found even on a gloomy rainy day. Yes, it can be found. You might think that I'm crazy for saying that. But it's true, you can find sunshine anywhere. It's omnipresent. Maybe it's in your smile and you just have to find it by looking at your pictures when you were just a baby or 9 or 10 full of dreams and sunshine of course. You see, finding it is not that hard. The real thing is whether you want to find it or not. Maybe try rummaging through some memory drawers of yours, you might find a gem if the drawers are of great quality. Well, never go looking for the rain, you can always find it in your eyes. Gloomy days have their own value just like every emotion has its own taste. Happiness tastes like a soothing, delectable dessert after eating something spicy when you finally breathe after a day full of sadness and the wisdom that slowly pulls you out of the dreary dark feels like sunshine. How beautiful life is! I think tasting every emotion is living your life to the fullest. Dear reader, go and find that sunshine or eat that dessert that has been waiting for you.
Here comes after the
Ferocious rain pattering,
Wise rays of sunshine.
"Do not go gentle into that good night."
"Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
Quote By Dylan Thomas
Smoky clouds float above slate skies.
Powdery alabaster flakes of snow glide to the earth.
A frozen taste of grief hovers in the breeze,
while maniacal machinery grinds close by.
The scent of industrial oil stings my nose,
as your chestnut coffin lowers into the misty petrichor below.
The pattering of moist dirt dings against the hardened box.
Crystal-clear tears wash over my face,
your warmth now replaced by a marble headstone.
Hours pass under opaque moonlight;
I sit with midnight winds
and buttery daisies,
clinging to the glistening stone,
trying to find a way back to you.
Traced backwards through dreams gone—
Saw a cobblestone path creasing palm of land
Slowly, images ripened beneath memory’s dawn
Faded, pattering feet stroking stone into sand.
2010.10.
NOTICE: I'd like hard-core critiques, please!