Best Quatorzain Poems
Before the day turned into night
You I saw, what an awesome sight!
A smile of eve, of love and light,
A lovesome theme, my dream did write.
Up high blazed pink arc of the sky,
A spark of joy in purple dye,
A gleeful vibe of sun’s goodbye,
When love in your eyes moon did vie.
You my love, are a dream come true,
For life with you, is life I woo;
On cusp of night, where stars lure you,
To clues of love, the sunset drew.
Pray I now, you will steer my way,
Before this night turns into day.
The sunset clouds are pinks and greys
in tattered strips, in rips and frays,
in feathered flight at end of days,
in summer skies that fill my gaze.
And in the pines beside the sea
a hundred birds talk endlessly
and shooshing waves lap hungrily
as we eat fish and chips for tea.
Before the day turned into night
the pinks were burned by dying light.
The birds were still, the moon was slight
when day had gone and it was night.
And then my eyes could hardly see
the scenery in front of me.
I attended a large gathering and took some time
to observe the great assortment of shoes stacked on the racks
I saw new shoes, pricey shoes, and shoes not worth a dime
and shoes that seemed to have crossed many paths and tracks.
I saw dainty sandals and flighty high heeled ones too
I saw sporty sneakers and rough and tough trainers
I saw both the laced and the leathery buckled shoe
Then I saw the humble yet hardy pair of slippers.
I saw pointy shoes, furry shoes and flatties as well
I saw flowery ones and those studded with trinket gems
Some stacked neatly in pairs, others thrown about pell mell
Some recently repaired, some coming off at the hems.
I saw long boots, rubber boots and
there were glittery Indian styled stilettoes
I spotted fragile glass sandals and metallic brass sandals
and soft comfy ones for comfort of feet 'n' toes.
And while I was thus lost and engrossed
in watching the great assortment of footwear
The old caretaker, to me, a cheap pair tossed
saying, ' here's an extra pair if you've lost your shoes.
She was too busy and distracted to be in my shoes of muse
So I'd to slip out thinking of some quick excuse
She didn't even notice I wasn't actually barefoot
So I had to take them elsewhere, both my muse and my boot!
Ah, and long ago when once we could afford only a 'shoestring' budget
I once hadn't enough bucks to replace a worn out pair of shoes
I was sad for not having even a good goody two shoes
Then God showed me a wayfarer's shoeless pair of barefeet
and then one hapless one with no feet at all!
So I could imagine life being in their missing shoes.
(Footnote*
Wonderin where I saw so many shoes off peoples feet? Well, in our religious gatherings say for prayers in the mosque hall or even the religious lecture hall, we've to enter barefooted and sit down crosslegged. So that's where you come across all kinds of shoes on racks provided in the cubicle.
Actually in the Disney movie, 'THE PRINCE OF EGYPT', i marked that even Moses took off his shoes before talking to God.)
A fuming, fierce and moving target
On yor species will you place yor bet!
Aiming the blade into shoulder blade or beating heart
all toreadors hope to throw that fatal decisive dart!
This bullyboy to score a bloodied bullseye in bullfight!
O'course not for the fainthearted that gory sight.
Well, that counts timid me out from any bullring
naturally I a bulwark against this lurid thing.
I find in the sport a sort of sadism
Like cockfights it must reek of masochism.
The carmine cape, the only screen between him and the jaws of death
or should I say rather, the sickle horns of death
Oh no, what if the matador ain't ever allowed to catch his breath?
For promoters a thrilling spinechilling
Spanish folk art in arena
For objectors a bloodsport
they wish as dead as the myth of Athena.
The Spanish might be divided about their picadors
on this sporty bloody battle between man and beast
No telling till when spectators will throng to watch those matadors
while I wonder do they on the trophy bull then feast?
Ah ban it to history
or fan it to the future
Call it cruelty or not, oh the thrills of our humankind
Tis fair play or fair game for the raging bull tis half blind?
Yet if any bloodlust instincts be satiated by those stuntmen toreros
matadors maybe far better than murderers and war heroes.
Do not drown in your sorrow,
This dark storm is not the end,
Look forward to tomorrow,
This cloud too shall pass, my friend;
It's difficult, I agree,
To stop thinking of the past,
Those memories won't just flee,
Give it some time, not so fast;
Hold on to the True Anchor,
The sun will soon shine again,
Jesus, the Light, when darker,
Does comfort you, so brighten;
In your deepest pain of grief,
Look to Him and find relief.
03/06/17
(Valentine's Collection)
25.
my Valentine, our temples entwine in the dance of midnight hours
beloved, you shine in golden pleasure before my eyes
our shadows dance upon the wall as body temperature rises
temples perspiring as we dance to the song our hearts now sing
oh, gentle grace, your golden light does fill my very core
we rise and fall in adoration before Luna's light
Flooding through the open window, her light touching our souls
my starlit treasure, we shall dance into passion's thrall
together, forever, in our paradise of joy
my beloved, our love painted on the wall, painted by Luna's light
I shall ever hold you close within my loving arms
With tender grace, your hand in mine, we'll walk God's timeless sea
each night, within midnight hours, precious love we shall share
two shadows dancing on the wall as temple's sing love's praise
23/01/2019.
Stiff pleated fronds in concert rise
to wax under the April sun
and trill their canticles begun
in verses jade that they comprise.
Chartreuse of thorny branches splay
a tumult to belie the grace
that on display they interlace
like rose stems on a breezeless day.
Atop the thatched denuded bole
gush fountains cast in cardamom,
an opalescent diadem
that glistens on the mossy knoll.
In thus exuberant array
do cloistered peacocks mime ballet.
1/20/18
O' Salty tear, a mere clear drop that you are
You've emerged for a million different reasons
many of which only the shedder knows
for you've emerged in all seasons.
The season of sadness or reason of joy
the tears of grief and the tears of joy
You and your unalloyed saline taste
thou art' but an emotional waste.
O'Salty tear each time you drop into oblivion
why not vanish away with your shedder's grief?
I tell you O' tear if you're to take my opinion
oughtn't you grant your shedder full relief?
Ah but thou art' a ceaseless ocean in reserve and store
No one can be sure, he'll cry no more
When you trickle down those sad upturned lips
we know destiny perhaps made those painful slips!
You are the raindrops of a grief-clouded heart
You do emerge when two lovers have to part
Help your shedder turn over a new leaf
so you're associated less with grief.
I've watched many a jilted lover
weep all alone by the sea-side most sorrowfully
and watched tears glide down noses or pince-nez
as their salty tears merged into the salty sea.
O' Salty tear but it's time you learnt to wash away
all and any poignancy from your shedder's heart
and be such a buddy who never wishes to meet again
the tearful shedder from whom you depart!
Would an ocean form created by ditched lovers
if someone collected their fallen tears?
I skip one stone across the pond,
an oblate onyx dotting i's
in footles of a vagabond
who tiptoes after tiger eyes.
Perhaps the ripples left behind
are teary runes of gray moonstone
by starry sapphires once declined
for poesies of chalcedone.
In unison do pines recite
around the swaying cellophane
with spruce in verses malachite
on tawny-needled counterpane.
Soon aloe waters recompose
an epilogue of silent prose.
11/5/17
Image #1
Freddie the frog with the lopsided hop
would travel in circles 'til he tired and stopped,
then jumped into the pond with a giant kerplop
as the bullfrogs laughed and croaked 'til they dropped.
It mattered not where Freddie was bound,
even when swimming he went round and round -
amongst all the pollywogs he was renowned
for going and going and not gaining ground.
Poor Freddie had no trouble just staying busy
but circling and circling made him so dizzy;
he lived in a pond he never could cross
but one thing's for sure, he never got lost.
So no matter your problems, or where you start,
you'll always get home if you just trust your heart!
A nod to Theodor Geisel
“Ceasing to sway, get out of your own way ~
That love and light bursts forth, like a sun ray”
~ quote, by poet
____________________________
Believing ourselves to be mind-body,
we pursue objects of our heart's desire,
more oft than not, employing thoughts shoddy,
immersed in delusion, until we tire,
whereupon we internalise focus,
shifting baton of awareness to heart,
divine entwined along the love locus,
deeming all souls as one, with none apart,
ascending thus, along octaves of love,
as bubbling joy becomes rapturous bliss,
enabled when head and heart, hand in glove,
feeling here now complete, nothing amiss.
We stoop to conquer, when we surrender,
as resounds within, soundless bliss thunder.
04-July-2022
HMS, Rhymezone
Theme: Life
It's All About Three Q's Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
“With sacred status as a forgiven sinner, saved by God with His love, I accept the sacred duty to live for Him.” by the Poet
Sacred indeed is my stewardship* task
Spiritually entrusted by the Lord
Settling me to use granted resources
Sincerely with my best along His grace.
Sacred truly is my servanthood role
Sublimely bestowed with God’s compassion
Strengthening me to reach-out, give and share
Serenely ministering for His sake.
Sacred, too, is my supplication deed
So divine around the Saviour’s friendship
Since communing with the great Almighty
Surely speaks of faith's sanctified status.
Sacred is Christ’s blessing He offers best
Soul of mine does thank and praise Him with zest.
Quatorzain with alliteration
*1Peter 4:10 As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.
April 10, 2023
4th place, "A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE no 1208" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 4/16/2023.
The longest journey is my life spent
hurried times I've traveled, without lament...Poet
I ponder my footprints left in sea sand
they linger like life, for a time, then gone
taken like life by the tide's timeless hand
in seamless circles of dawn after dawn
this continuous theme passes through time
because living and dying are endless
so I count all my days lived as they climb
life has become shorter, my soul restless
Like my footprints, I will be washed away
to be pulled by life's tide into darkness
where nothing remains, nor left to convey
as life will begin with a new canvas
the tide swept away my tracks on the shore
buried by new sand, they will be no more
7/4/22 contest It's All About The Three Q's...LIFE
Sponsor Constance La France
Just on a whim I took a walk,
following the trills of a lark
Along new trails did I embark,
not recognizing a landmark
Fearing the worst, if truth be told,
along unknown paths I had strolled
The air touched me with frigid cold
Sunlight faded to tarnished gold
Cicadas sang as they took flight
'neath lavender skies of twilight
The path back home was in my sight
Before the day turned into night
Moonlight cast a soft silver glow
I smiled as it began to snow
What price a smile;
its value immeasurable?
First learned when a cheek was tickled,
long before an uttered jest,
a nonsensical gurgling grin
learned how to own a room.
Before "trying harder" failed,
sophistication and foolishness
vied for our personal attention;
painted smiles begging to be laughed at,
lonely hearts begging to be loved -
a quest never truly sated,
while we struggle to find
what we've always owned.
(Inspired by Henry Miller's "The Smile at the Foot of a Ladder")