Best Proffers Poems
In embrace of your love, blossoms my eager night,
Strumming themes romantic fervid passions recite
Invoked by scarlet-eventide glinting arc of twilight
As final breaths of dimming-day golden rays ignite
Signaling to emotive vibes twinkling on starry skies
Now’s the time for constellations to bedazzle eyes
In magenta, red nebulae buoying upon stellar seas
Navigating tides of joy as smiles of Venus appease
When enamored we stroll lauding exuberance of glee
Bequeathed by dreams, mystiques of desires spree,
In missives of forever-love verses of hearts decree
Responding to overtures, aspirations intimate plea,
Giving voice to latent hints echoing proffers of soul
Vying reveries esoteric sensuous heartbeats cajole
Prodding us to waltz, to rhythms of nocturnal tune,
Attuning beats of hearts beneath love-struck moon.
May 10, 2023
Placed 1st: Couplet Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
The fire logs glow, flickering to and fro
in her eyes he sees champagne dreams of love
the soft adagio plays a velvet tune of jazzing blow
right atop the hearth, she's fitted like a glove
Red hair flaming, ruby lips untamed her rubicon
a blush, acclaims her cheeks await the dawn;
Each dancer holds on cue precaution to the wind
style and grace in every move "amour est bleue"
with burning eyes of here, go rescind ,
a love is built on arcs of passion's queue;
Scarlet thoughts roseate skin enflamed a marathon
of amoureuse, bending arching longing one on one ;
Her hair a crayon colored Autumn proffers romance
and all the philharmonic musings of a lovely dream
together they loop meandered agile as a water dance
rushing towards each other skin to skin seam to seam ;
Wine colored kisses taking in a world of bless
garnet hearts of shine never to confess
they once lay dormant in the crook of night
now fired, ready to ignite....
Contest Name: SEASONAL OR UNSEASONAL
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
October 22, 2018
Blooming avid hearts, where reveries dwell,
“Love weaves a mysterious magic spell”
Turning daydreams into amorous fairytale
Of endeavors esoteric smitten passions unveil,
Sketching emotions, fantasies ecstatic ignite,
Threading themes, musings-intimate write,
Embroidering bliss upon tapestries of mind,
Bedecking realm heavenly, destiny designed,
Rejoicing springs roaming on fragrant breeze,
Sailing blue seas, summer’s aspirations seize,
Exultant in notions of love, autumn weaves,
Choreographing dance of falling gold-leaves,
Luring besotted eyes fixating on moonlit skies,
Vying impulses-romantic, fervid moods surmise,
Rhapsodic in elation, aglow in stellar delight,
Hypnotizing minds caressing proffers of night,
“Love weaves a mysterious magic spell”
Blooming avid hearts, where reveries dwell,
Culminating in sweet rendezvous desires plea
Threading intimate fantasies for you and me.
Like melody in the warmth of a sunlit meadow
Like jingles in the journey of a sparkling stream
Like tunes in the twinkling of a moonlit night
Music comes to take you on a soothing flight.
Rain sings to see the peacocks dance
Sky sings in tune with the rising sun
Cradle sings to drive the baby's eyes into the world of dreams
Life sings when faithful love wins.
There's music in the pecking of a bird
There's music all over the world
Music fills the air with the perfume of peace
Music, to the palpitating soul, proffers relief.
Sing to heal the pain
Sing to cleanse the stains of disdain
Sing to challenge injustice
Sing to question prejudice
Sing to spread love
Sing to paint smiles
Sing with your heart
Sing for your soul
Sing to inspire
Sing to set the world on fire
Sing your life and let your story kindle the globe
Unassailable purity, a cognition divine of venerated mind,
Proffers promise inviolable, beneficence sacred aligned,
With force invincible emanating from goodwill of heart
Forming precepts impeccable, teachings benevolent impart.
Purity of thought and action~ a worthy and righteous goal,
Resounds indomitable from kindred voice of resolute soul;
A heavenly call of compassion, extolling sanctity of love,
Lifting tenor of gloomy dawns~ soothing refrains of dove.
Unassailable purity in life, a road map of directions to hope,
Sacrosanct are its valiant acts, vowing ceaselessly to cope,
Performing with mighty resolve, deeds inducing pride;
Serving humbly as invisible hand of irreproachable guide.
Assisting destitute is the sermon, tolling bells of prayer,
Beckoning the weary, indigent, to shelter and welfare;
Comforting grief of despair with words enlightened, aware,
Consoling cry of nothingness, bequeathing love and care.
It exemplifies within her selfless smile, purity of her eyes,
Reassuring her children, bliss of mother’s love never dies;
Its rectitude unassailable, eternal as the reign of time,
A gift precious, paramount to life~ ethereal and sublime.
Whilst I stand munching oats and fresh hay
Kitty visits, she’s my special friend
If she proffers a mouse I’ll say neigh
as a mouser kitty’s a godsend!
Kitty visits, she’s my special friend
I look forward to see her each day
As a mouser kitty’s a godsend
I enjoy watching my friend at play
I look forward to see her each day
on my company she can depend
I enjoy watching my friend at play
Kitty chases mice right to the end
On my company she can depend
If she proffers a mouse I’ll say neigh
Kitty chases mice right to the end
whilst I stand munching oats and fresh hay
Pantoum Rhyme - Personification Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
Checked with how many syllables - 9 per line, and rhymezone
Image 2 used
04/19/20
The month of October is a most delightful time of the year.
Though skies at times may be gray and the weather drear,
It proffers so many splendid opportunities for our delight,
Like the glowing hunter's moon casting its brilliant light!
Trees have donned their colorful robes for our viewing pleasure.
Languid Indian summer days linger with warmth that we treasure.
Golden pumpkins ripen for jack-o-lanterns and delectable pies,
And skeins of geese rule the pristine skies with their haunting cries!
Busy farmers reap their harvests ere the snows begin to fly.
Magnificent roses now silently close their petals with a final sigh.
Oak and ash logs are hewn for a winter night's glowing flame,
Nigh which folks will fellowship watching the Sunday game!
Happy children relish a hayride down a moonlit country lane,
Sipping hot apple cider and joining in harmonious refrain!
Later to toast marshmallows and enjoy hearty wiener roasts,
As they regale others by a roaring fire with tales of spooky ghosts!
Halloween parties bobbing for apples and scary costumes are replete.
The neighborhood echoes with anxious pleas of "Trick or Treat!
Nothing quite compares to the wonderful sights and sounds of fall.
October is nature's last resplendent spree ere come the wintry pall!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF
© All Rights Reserved
The age of premonition and belief in false speculations…
A firm believer of the grace now devoted to inelegance…
All it stated was an untainted fib…
Darkened fiend now restive within…
Falling by the force of an ill-defined revelation…
Swimming through cadavers of lies…
Illusive delusions cast before my perception…
All hopes are sedated by my hands…
Sheer inanity I commit exhibiting my buoyant stance…
Imperceptible shadows ridicule a common jest…
And those divine shall affix to fantasizing…
…As the rest battle with a fettered fiend within…
Sightlessly chose to pursue the affectionate call…
Veracity being a neglected constituent…
Sedated hope – call of the day…
…As aspiration thaws endlessly to oblivion…
Hope tends to soar higher by the progress of the seconds…
Peak exists for all which tends to be limitless…
Crash the new-born hope which unites with obscurity…
A premature plummet is beneficial to the torn essence…
A moon once elegant now darkened by the malevolent night…
Haunted by the iniquity ever so fervent…
And I run towards that which proffers solace…
Hands of murder soaked in the blackest blood…
The despaired yearning silently for another sunrise…
Darkened soul haunted by notions of a dim collapse…
Equipped with a blade ever so assertive…
The green earth now stained with blood of the fallen…
And desires for that which lies in the other realm…
…Endlessly distant from the dream which was once breathing…
Attempting to never dream for the unattainable…
Sedated hope – call of the day…
*Image of Hallmark Channel by Giphy.
Chimed Upper Room
Chimed new day shines...eagerly corrects an upper room looks,
An attic improving rapidly...promotes roams of diligence,
Lacks found bordered leathered album...trapped topped a cornered desk.
Cutting edge mounts an Everest...Grand Canyon grooves a pass,
Emptying a corridor...grants patience traces of sweat caught brow,
Weighty whatnots slothfully shift...relief of prized treasure.
Lives confined--stilled in a photograph...bound neath grained-hewn film,
Reviving breaths aids wiping palms...adjusting dust rules idle air,
Widen pupil's gaze...proffers freedom to locked memories.
A leisurely dance of fingers...entertaining a page,
Courses from staging consequences...flips driftingly e'er so oft,
Cherished persevered poignant times...plus occasional laughs.
Age feebly trades a gentle glance...to sights of swept-up youth,
Niagara Falls revisit eyes...interlude recalls Wordsworth,
Rousseau swells the lulls...till Longfellow's maiden turns a page.
A soothing thoroughness applied...o'er sovereignty once claimed,
Delighting a soul wanting remembrance...effervescence inched rise,
Bestilled processing images...icons pageants the heart.
Strokes into yesterdays...fulfill a distant emptiness,
Once existed in certainty...consequently in dreams of need,
Now physically held...persuades rising tips of a mouth.
2020 July 30
*2nd Place*
Dusty Old Memories
~~Constance La France: Judged 2020 August 06
Sensuous as a kiss, gift of romantic dreams,
Your essence I feel as you tiptoe stealthily
Alluring sensibilities, revealing amorously
Silken ruby lips sparkling on work of beauty
Embellishing tiny dimples upon rosy cheeks;
Oh! the mystical you, loving you is euphoric.
Unannounced you titillate my life’s revelry
Mellifluous alike spring’s giggling streams
Occupying me happily on perilous journey
Lending your hand when I am trekking hills,
Jubilant visage of my life’s pristine prairies~
An enchanting emissary of proffers amatory.
When I asked a favor from a lonesome night~
Despondent, starless gloom of moonless skies
Clamoring earnestly to speed-forward time
So, bearing Venus high, the dawn could arrive;
There you stood fondly, donning flirty smile
Mesmerizing amiably in hypnotic hazel eyes.
Ah! what a bliss it is, in your endearing glee
When moments of joy life’s upheavals steal,
My darling I so adore you~ real as imagined
For you never fail to answer my every plea,
Questing realm of ecstasy elated you spree
Amid riveting reveries thrilling my fantasies.
October 6, 2021
Placed 1st: “R” Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme chosen: Romantic
Keats’ Nightingale
The romantic poets were too early to postulate total atheism,
And so freshened up the church by aligning god with nature,
And I believe they had a preference for nature over god or theism,
Because they never posit him as social with high, tall stature.
Keats says that the nightingale exemplifies nature as active,
As bestowing upon all human beings meaning, sense and worth,
Since the bird’s song objectifies how nature truly is effective,
Fulfilled by happiness, and aimed at contentment and rebirth.
Nature triggers in us thoughts and words to settle and allure,
Offers us our language to dispel pain and find the cure,
And Keats contends that poetry, the credibility of its form,
Epitomises what nature proffers, a receptacle rather warm.
When you feel awkwardly suicidal with nowhere else to turn,
Nature lullabies you into your own sense, one you can rip and burn;
No controlled access freeways, no road signs for your safety,
Only soft, quiet communication that's never guilty of brevity.
Just as nature is beautiful, so Keats claims people as beautiful too,
As he uses the word beauty right in the middle of his nature exposé;
He referred to flora, the moon, the stars, the forest and what seems true,
Tnat song of the nightingale that's for anyone, as this bird is not choosey.
He suggests that light or positivity in nature means movement,
That the soft breeze dispels the gloom and mossy pavement;
Quantum physics does reduce matter back down to interactive particles,
In which kinetic energy can be mistaken for minuscule, motionless articles.
His mentor is the nightingale as part of nature’s whole,
No minister or clergyman to advise him on his soul,
Stillness and bird song scent his poisoned air surrounding,
And it is all but for the silence of that beauteous music, astounding.
Nature does not irritate him when he surmises and introspects,
But upholds itself in majestic grandeur with unquestionable prospects;
It speaks about life, your life, your daily happenings and exotic dreams,
And forever exists for us when sense is just not within our means.
Blossoming
Effulgent sun proffers love
Clambering…
Ascending
Above the undergrowth…of
Thorns and weeds
Furtively
The moon unravels wonders
Glimmering
I know, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s poem : Je sais by T. Wignesan
I have seen upon this earth the gangrene of mass graves
I have seen the sky foul up with human ashes
I have watched the breath of superb beings
Mist over with their blood the universe
I have seen how the hearts of the powerful decay on their
lips
I have seen men thought of as possessing wisdom
While they picked their way through pools of blood
I have seen the just in spirit breathe in massacres
As if the wide open spaces puffed up their lungs
I have seen the good at heart repulse God
And that brought on a tide of extermination
They were clothed in the white linen of words
To dissimulate the stains of blood
I opened my mouth God bear witness
I wanted to speak out
My heart unable to bear being human
Wanting to burst upon other men
Shrieking so as to cleave the sky
But the air thrust its fist down my throat
Out of my heart streaked words turned to lies
That I was unaware of
Those words were put into my mouth
And I pronounced them
I would rather have died than utter them
And (yet) I uttered them
In turn I have turned words into carrion
The human soul manufactures words
Which by fault of my own rot in the face of God
I have become the speaker
Who has been deprived of the meaning of Speech
My eyes are the mirror of lies
And my ears the echo of lies
And my mouth the melting-pot of lies
And my soul clogged up with lies
Froth on the lips of a dying God
Who proffers even a word without lying ?
Who dares to address crying out at the Cross :
Have I not murdered the Verb ?
I assassinated the Verb gifted by God
I am an assassin like everyone else
But not all know who’s put to death by them
Me
I do know it.
(from the collection : Visage nuage, 1955)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, September 29, 2014
I am MacDougal's parrot, he taught me how to speak,
Whenever i repeat an obscene word, he chides, excuse your beak.
It happens when folk ask him, if i'm his cockatoo,
I'll fly into an awful rage, that's when the air turns blue.
He also has a butler, his name is Mister Ree,
Where the only time MacDougal talks, is sitting on his knee.
We are now entertainers, with unscripted repartee,
Where all our jokes backfire, upon the stooge, that's me.
I say, he says, let's holiday, i think i'll fly by air,
Then proffers me a bag of nuts, then says i'll meet you there.
But offstage we're the best of friends, together every day,
And listen to the radio, on stations where they play
The music from our favourite shows, where MacDougal's passions ballet,
While i am quite the opposite, for i'm more Tin Pan Alley.
We read the morning papers, and discuss the daily news,
Where we both agree to differ, and air our different views.
But slowly my suspicions grow, is there something i have missed,
Could MacDougal be a dummy, and Mister Ree his ventriloquist.
I would be disappointed, if it's reality,
Where MacDougal only could exist, with Ree's ability.
9/ 3/ 2018.
The lean old men in my vicinity
wake to find themselves a day older
then turn away from the mirror to reflect
on their miserable circumstance.
Then they masque their decay with cologne,
snap on their one-piece spandex sportswear
and wheel off to meet their ancient colleagues for tea.
Along the way they blast glances at a car
that dares to edge past with its foul exhaustion
until at last, snapping locks onto spoked wheels,
the knights errant mingle at tea, glorious
in their molded aerodynamic helmets.
They are one for all, and all for themselves,
and their speed dials connect to the bank, the spa,
the athletic wear store, the restaurant, and the escort service,
for after their sweat grey romp across town,
they whirl into the finest hotels by the harbor where they strip, shower,
wrap their wrinkles in snow white terry towel shrouds,
and await the knock of their Tuesday morning girl.
From their Victorian styled suites with golden phones for service
they call their brokers and shuffle stocks in their decks till
check-out time. They glare at an insouciant desk clerk
whose obeisance has not been forthcoming and, quickly insulted,
call the general manager and have her job, as promised.
Long, long is the bicycle ride home that stops them for the evening.
wife the third proffers white wine in fluted crystal, laments her
feverish responsibilities as a Matron of the Arts (ignored, of course
by the lean old men who slide into their pyjama suits
and slumber by the fire while Rachmaninoff plays his Second.)
They will die—just not today,
for tomorrow is still their fat child,
waiting to be eaten.