Best Prettily Poems
How beautiful is what I see today
peeking from the green
and almost unseen,
blossoming for me – the first rose of May!
While she’s in the pink,
time is but a blink.
In this merry month, oblivious is she
to what’s to come as she poses prettily -
destiny evading
Her joy for now is sweet. What can she know
of life’s suffering?
She hears robins sing.
On her face, tears are but a dewy glow.
She is hope anew
now that she’s in view!
Will she – like me – feel her soul plunge to sorrow?
Or will I – like her – be until tomorrow
destiny evading. . .
a wish faint and fading?
May 21, 2018 for Broken Wing's "Let Your Pen Drip" Contest
Uses Gregory Barden's invented Qarinage Rhyme Pattern. See notes above.
For 'THE CRAP SHOOT POETRY CONTEST' Poetry Contest of John Lawless
you ...
are my moon
(whisper me, coolly)
wan and pale as porcelain
milky moll - `china doll ...
dancing the sky like a Ginza geisha
stars tickling your toes
prettily petulant, and perfectly ...
imperfect
my moon ...
(whisper me, wondrous)
warm ... lemon drop on my tongue
teasing me to your fire
feral fool ...
I, the unwary prey - the Mandarin moth
charmed by your glisten
listen - do my wings flutter ...
or my heart?
moon ...
(whisper my name)
round and radiant - red as a cranberry
tart, sweet, luscious-lipped
dipped fruit, forbidden ...
peek-a-boo clouds of mixing emotions
stormy weather sighs
soft flesh pressed to softer ...
your kiss
my moon ...
(whispering madness)
beryl blue sadness and distant as dreams
obscured by brume and illusion
erotic suffusion ...
you pull on my blood like tidal bore
gibbous or gone
your glow is my utter apogee ...
affectation, pure
you ...
are my moon
(whisper your wishes)
I am magic, bathed in your pearly enchantments
face turned, or commanding my heavens
you are ever true ...
hues and moods in multitudes
all meant to melt me
to drip like honeyed passion ...
when you ...
whisper.
* This is a free verse form I invented called “LUNACRITICA” - I hope you enjoyed it! *
I smell something so beautiful!
Many different fragrances are drifting toward me.
So many sachets of poetry are prettily displayed.
Such visual delights!
I stoop to relish one - a citrus blend
with sweet anise and cinnamon.
Ah! How fun this poem is with its taste of licorice!
And here’s one that is rather sensuous.
Its aroma is the clove,
clary sage, bergamot, and rose.
How luscious! I linger at this one for a while. . .
Now I lean in toward the scent of chamomile.
This poem soothes the spirit
with its lavender and jasmine blooms in it.
Oh, here is one not only sweet but spicy!
Coriander wafts my way
with cinnamon and ginger. Such a treat to savor!
Next I view a bowl
filled with myrrh and frankincense.
And what else?
Why, it’s the earthy scent of sandalwood
with a touch of patchouli for good measure.
My, this is an epic poem to treasure.
Right next to it I spy a tiny one -
a packet of herbs and other little things,
But oh, how sweet its fragrance
of nutmeg, citrus and vanilla. Indeed, I’ve found a gem.
And here is one completely fresh - a most creative blend
of lemon, lavender and pine. It is divine!
Now a strong scent of sweetness comes to me,
This time from lavender laced
with small petals Of germaniums, and again,
the wondrous cinnamon
that takes my mind far back
to sentimental scenes of childhood.
Balsamic and earthy is the final poem that tempts me
with cedar wood, spruce and fir -
another one with thoughts of life and nature
to ponder as I linger one last time. . .
Then I must leave this sanctuary.
Day after day -
how I love to fill my senses
with poetry potpourri!
May 1, 2016 for Linda's Poetry _______ (fill in the blank) Poetry Contest
(hope I did it right this time!)
One brilliant tranquil day, around a turquoise lake,
Autumn had come in and brightly painted
so prettily the branches of the trees.
Overhead the gulls serenely soared.
Below them, water shimmered -softly rippled. . .
I thought how this was how the world should ever be -
beautiful and radiant, sorrow-free.
All of a sudden came a shift.
A strong wind swept the scene; all was transformed.
Fall’s vibrant colors shimmied,
till released, they spread asunder.
Small ripples changed to waves,
which angrily were lashing at the shore.
The seagull’s laughing cries had disappeared.
And streaming rays of sunlight had
become absorbed by darkness . . .
a dreariness and dreadfulness and cold.
In the reflection of the shadows,
I found my flimsy jacket, flung it on,
and clasped it close to me - then even closer.
Wishing that all mankind could find illumination,
I forlornly contemplated that this
was how the whole world would come to be,
and sooner than we know. . .would so remain.
There’s a small village not so far away
anyone who hears it dreams to be there,
Its beauty lures like white fairies at bay-
their billowy gowns prettily unfurl;
As its homes sprout as mushrooms of winter,
scooped by mountains like petals of flower.
When we ride to ascend its spiral road,
curtains of snowflakes are crystals in view
Winter wonderland is right there, behold!
At the swinging bridge over river-snow,
when you frolic around, feels no adieu
Lulls notes of perfection, not made askew.
Night comes around, nocturnal critters sound
to keep its eternal fascination
While animals scamper on thick snow ground
lit by tiny lamps on trees, let’s sojourn
to embrace the glorious celebration-
Winter Wonderland’s Yuletide Season.
Takayama is Winter Wonderland,
Not so far away, it’s found in Japan.
Dec. 30, 2018 10.50am
A try of Urban sonnet in 10syllables
ABABBB- CDCDDD- EFEFFF-GG
A poem in remembrance on one of the cities I visited last March 4-7, 2018 in Japan.
So many memories I have are summer-colored, like those walking-down-the-lane days recalled in various hues of green. Green for Grandpa’s cornfields spread all around us and green for the grass on which my sisters and I used to run and play.
Besides that color green, which prettily surrounded me through all my childhood,
I think a favorite memory would be the colors of one lovely day spent with my family, the family created by my spouse and me and a day our kids were young.
We lived near San Francisco. Few troubles plagued us then and I loved our short time in California! One summer day at last we went to see the beach of Santa Cruz.
I don’t remember details of everything we did. We walked along the boardwalk, naturally. I’m sure the kids, both pre-teens, enjoyed the rides. Even I was every bit as excited as the two of them. I’m sure my spouse and I took pictures, ate good-tasting food and watched our children doing things all children love to do.
But what stood out for me was our time spent on the beach and how we all jumped up to greet each wave that tumbled toward us time and time again to knock us down. What pure pleasure in the splashes of blue that fun-filled day, the blue of the Pacific, which chilled me at the start until I warmed to it as the yellow sun in blue of sky above smiled down on us.
Yes, the blue of sky and water and the constant shining yellow of the sun:
those would be the colors of my favorite summer memory -when times were good and we were young and simply having fun.
new colors emerge
in the autumn of one's life
soon is winter's dirge
as blue asters wave in fields
bye-bye to sweet summer time
For the Haibun Free-Style Contest of scott thirtyseven
She counted the candles
with the arithmetic of an ancient angel,
the impertinent years of her life fuelled the flames slowly
patiently, and prettily,
a flicker for the fast joys, a standstill for the sorrows,
she knew very well how age brought trials, tears, and triumphs,
and she believed in life after death
as a dove believes in the upcoming morning,
to the field of birthday fire
she blew a blissfully blue breath
the lights waved and vanished like startled wraiths,
yet there was one stubborn candle
that seemed to glow upon her quiet heart
revealing with a direct warmness...
You either live inspired, or you die -
J.A.B.
“Just living is not enough... one must have sunshine, freedom,
and a little flower”.
– Hans Christian Andersen
A little flower in the garden
not very large, or tall, or bright.
For this, she seeks pardon.
God graces her with His light.
His sun shining in the skies
attracts the little flower’s head
and soon her face and eyes
behold the sunshine’s thread.
It fills her with a freedom
like she’s never known before.
She awakens simply to need Him
and He, she comes to adore.
Her little face fills with happiness
shining prettily pink and red.
He colors her with tenderness;
she stands proudly without dread.
Life is living and loving all things
without need to feel outside.
Accepting the gifts He brings
makes living a jubilant joyride.
Twas the night before Christmas, and inside one house
lay a boy with the age of not yet quite a year.
While his mother lay resting in bed with her spouse,
her small son had cried out, but the mom did not hear.
So he gathered some courage for what he would do,
for this lad had a bed, and it wasn’t so tall.
On one part of the bed was a place to crawl through,
so he crawled to that spot and he let himself fall!
Yes, he somehow had managed to squeeze through that spot,
and the way he escaped made him soon lose his gloom.
Feeling proud, he got up, but the wee lad did not
go directly to Mom. He went to the next room.
In that room was a Christmas tree, prettily lit,
and the boy felt some comfort to see by the tree
the beloved family pet, a huge dog, next to it.
Now the lad, who’d felt scared, was as calm as could be.
He’d got down from his bed by himself with no sound!
His bad dream was forgotten. He gazed at the eyes
of his dog, warm and gentle. His mom and dad found
sleeping next to the dog their young son at sunrise!
Dec. 17, 2017
Now for the Christmas Poems Old Or New Poetry Contest
of Constance La France
Seaweed strands woven prettily, unwind
spread tendrils of green sublime
the grace of a fluid dancer dressed up
to perform while the seagull cries
the afternoon curtain call
Incoming or out going, the waves turn
against the tide to ride for free
Recurring rhythms pulse, comfortably
Recline upon their earthly saline chariot
Lost horizon forgives the grey mist
Shrouds worn abandoned over treetops
melts the lines and blurs reality
inside lives the heartbeat, found again
while Autumn begins it's dance
awakens the maiden of trees reflection
Shimmer across time's unseen dimension
carry the colors of a new born moment
disappear into the unknown
the secrets kept are safe in her bosom
of ample forgiveness found in a new season
Dark clouds rise to curl around the sun's tongue
turn to candy colored rocks, strewn about
slippery against the souls of forgotten men
yet found in their beauty of differences
you take one home to light the way
The path becomes one of many parts
written by footprints along the shoreline
inland worries escape to the sea
roll with fate or steady the oars over swells
elements of whispered prayers
Floating languid white bubbles
waiting for the mermaids kiss of fairytales
buried beneath layers of childhood
beliefs that crystallized in glided goblets
then touched gingerly for substance
Carry me to the top of the gray horizon
to sail as I will with confidence
a funeral flower will float for the heavens
and give itself in your honor
the sea asked for nothing in return
like a puffy cloud
my future floats prettily
in the azure sky
I need only picture it
drifting to my open palm
Written May 9, 2016 for the Future Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron
She sat by the river facing the crimson sky
watching the birds fly towards the coral sea
sitting prettily on a blanket of lavender tie-dye
she ate her tangerine contentedly as can be
Accoutered in a dress the shade of lilac jelly
she matched the lemon trees of green and Chi
wearing watermelon rouge from the Deli
she smiled, for everything was fine and peachy
A dolphin slapped the chartreuse water with his tail
"look above" he said, watch the parasail
an aquamarine cloth flapped against the wind
and a sign appeared, "marry me, Rosalind!"
She stood on her toes waving at him bold
then flipped her hair of yellow saffron gold
plucking a mallow from behind her ear
she yelled, " I will marry you my dear"
April 18, 2021
Contest Name: Changing Colors
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
colors used: aquamarine, crimson, chartreuse, coral, lavender, lemon, lilac, saffron, tangerine, and watermelon.
In the store, I pick up a globe with a beautiful scene.
On a park bench, a couple is cuddling.
Red ribbons and bows adorn the street lamp next to them.
Christmas lights hung cheerily are encircling a pine.
What might this couple be discussing?
What joy might they feel?
I long for the bliss they seem to share inside that globe.
I shake it, and snow sprinkles down so prettily.
Closing my eyes, I hold the globe and shake it again,
seeing the scene again in my mind’s eye.
Then I open my eyes; I’m inside the globe!
Music of Christmas from somewhere is playing:
“But as long as you love me so, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”
There’s a stranger at my side; he is dark and handsome.
His fingers are twining in and out with mine.
No words are needed; this is the language of love I adore.
I am youthful again, feeling fresh as the crisp winter air,
stirring with dreams and reveling in romance.
This feeling – how long can it last?
I’m stuck inside the Christmas globe.
Should I want to get out?
Suddenly snow is drifting down on me and the wonderful man.
Some entity outside our sphere has found the Christmas globe.
It feels like my whole world is shaking,
but it matches the quivering deep in my soul,
and I know that
I do not want out.
Dec. 1, 2019 for Bobby May's Stuck in a Christmas Globe Poetry Contest
Nearby are we to a beautiful lake,
the deepest one in the whole USA.
A trek to its rim we’re ready to take
on this wonderful snowy winter’s day.
Wearing our snowshoes, by sunlight’s first ray,
we go round Rim Drive; we’re well on our way!
At Windy Ridge, we can feel a light breeze
as we breathe in the air so crisp and clean.
Then onward we go, surrounded by trees.
This winter wonderland glistens – pristine,
and being a part of this perfect scene,
we cannot help feeling simply serene.
Beyond us on the horizon we see
the ridges of mountains outlined in blue.
White frosting adorns each tree prettily
when the best part of all comes into view!
It matches the sky’s most beautiful hue.
To gaze at this lake is all we can do!
A rose dusk turns into a sapphire night.
We camp underneath the brilliant starlight.
Dec. 29, 2018 for the Winter Wonderland Contest
and for Eve Roper's Sleeping Volcano Poetry Contest;
the Crater Lake was my inspiration.
"The buds on my pear tree will become florets this day,
prettily unfurled a creamy white." by poet
On leaves of green streams down the gold
of a radiant April dawn,
and blotted out is winter’s cold
because sun’s here to warmly smile upon
the pear tree that is posing on my lawn.
The first day for her blossoming has come.
White pearled clusters now adorn my favorite tree.
A lovely fashionista this day she has become.
Can any other tree be more beautiful than she?