Best Regaled Poems
Walking in sailor fields amongst the nettles picking blackberries,
the brambles cut deep savage the mind. Yet the bowl to be filled
the jam to be boiled the bread of hope to be flavourful,
the innocence of it all enhanced by the beauty of this place.
an arcing rainbow
blazon sky holds cotton clouds
wild tussocks frolic
The village shimmers in idyllic peace, the veil of eastern promise
chases the setting sun, bequeath a heavenly sequin blanket, to
lovingly cloak God’s very own. Life had not changed much
in the place, except some men returned leaving their memories
over yonder, while others stayed away their bones to lay within
‘Alien soil.’ ‘England expects.’ Et cetera!
striped bees’ pink clover
rich meadows so verdant wait
wild poppies stand tall
Alas the hurt does not diminish for those left behind, walking alone
in their beloved sailor fields amongst the nettles picking blackberries,
where the sweetest words of love they shared together no more said
only the shadows the silhouettes and these moments truly blest.
dragonfly hunting
dandelion seeds gliding
wild wind song regaled
© Harry J Horsman 2022
A revamped free verse
Into the valley of death
Fighting the dragon demon
Numb from the heat of his breath
Deaf to the yellin' and screamin'
Lying in vomit and left for dead
An angel of mercy arrived
Touching the sickness inside my head
How lucky I was to survive
Battles regaled in chronicled tales
As scars from the wounds grow deeper
Telling others I see, Just like me
The dragon belongs to the reaper
by Daniel Turner
Feb 25 2017
Love at first sight was the
language she spoke
A sight to behold
to the angels she woke
A creation with broken mold
from the Divine
The description of beauty
branded in the mind
A angelic appearance
her presence defines
What to do with this spirit?
That forever clouds my eye's
An ocean that desire
could not drain
A torment, envy
could not name
Both heaven and hell
she is the same
The possession of beauty
an undeniable claim
A wondering star
in the universe of her name
Both heat and light
brought forth by her flame
The invisible force
filling my sail
Where rudders direction
succeed or fail
Secret confessions to my
soul been nailed
my desire to possess
and my controls impaled
My eyes silence being hailed
by souls satisfaction fully regaled
The unforgettable sight
that memory cannot fail
captured by photo or ancient
paint brush. Not for sale.
Perfection and it's causes
Divinely detailed
Reflections and its pauses
hopes derailed
Misleading, minacious maze now thwarted,
eschews stealth as sandal-clad steps resound.
Determined and dour, destiny draws near;
completing this quest: forever renowned.
Stygian sky grants a much-welcomed boon:
conformable clouds cast curtain aside.
A radiant pearl suspended aloft,
reveals route to where foul fiend does reside.
Mouthing prayers to a personal angel;
supplication: salient and silent.
Head held high, eyes fixed firmly on heaven;
bless these dark deeds, bloody and violent.
Sharpened silvern sword raised proudly aloft;
unblemished blade mirrors midnight’s moon-light.
Utters an oath sworn at parents’ graveside;
tonight sees the zenith of a birthright.
Shrieks fill the air, inhuman and hungry;
hero’s hammering heart reaches its peak.
Fear is just fleeting, for foe has arrived;
savage beast attacks with claw and with beak.
Garden’s guardian inflicts ghastly gash;
‘tis nary a scratch for warrior’s might.
Unyielding weapon wielded with such flair
finally - fatally - settles the fight.
Chimera confronted, cowed and conquered;
tales of this victory regaled forthwith.
A marble mosaic marvel beckons
and once-true events pass straight into myth.
-------------------------------------------------
February 2017
An apology for any students (or masters) of classical mythology. I’ve used a fair bit of poetic licence with the events leading to the death of the Chimera... but I was raised on a diet of Ray Harryhausen and this was my homage to his creature features!
-------------------------------------------------
Written for the “Chimera World” contest sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron - Eighth Place. The following restrictions applied:
“1 original poem that uses the following words: mosaic, maze, moon, guardian, garden, angel, heaven, heart, midnight and clouds.”
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
ignored the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang in every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees spired mightily in view,
and full proclaimed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, and their love degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and over,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms,
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once beheld,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labor hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora.
For whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst dark and Shangri-la!
“Oh that ship has sailed..”
Shaking his head, following her voice as it trailed
He smiles to himself, ’give it time’, he knew, rays of Joy crack through disdain
It was love at first sight, the surround greyed and paled
Spotting this electric eccentric, dancing in the rain
“Oh that ship has sailed..”
As time flowed by, he knew how they’d not failed
He is her best friend through all; hysterical laughter to anguish and pain
He smiles to himself, ‘give it time’, he knew, rays of Joy crack through disdain
She loves him wholehearted, though never been veiled
On the news of their daughter, he’d tried proposing, in vain
“Oh that ship has sailed..”
Now soo much older, their matured rich love haled
She is both bubbly and light, and a grumpy old pain
He smiles to himself, “give it time’, hew knew, rays of Joy crack through disdain
She turns to face him, happy laughter regaled
He takes her hand, “So about that sword cane…”
“Oh that ship has sailed..”
He smiles to himself, ‘give it time’, he knew, rays of Joy crack through disdain
Contest: Third-Person Villanelle Poetry Contest
Hosted by: L.Milton Hankins
Date: 23.11.2022
The many positives of Covid
Well for me there have been plenty
I live alone inside my home
The year is 2020
Just a soupcon of neighbours
in the past I have known
And if perchance
one day we meet
we smile
as we greet with
a welcome salutation
Though sadly little time is spent
in deeper conversation
as we rush off in a hurry
no time to share our latest worry
Since starting many lockdowns
within tiers one, two or three
We watch out for each other
Even meeting up for tea
Outside we meet on our green square
As each one brings a summer chair
Laughing and chatting to those who are there
and gently inhaling the fresh sea air
We are getting to know folks
who’ve always been there
Such a friendly community
now prevails in our block
of various apartments
I reside at the top
If we have any worries
On their doors we can knock
Social distancing practiced
with our masks and hand gel
We are all keeping safe
We are all keeping well
As we sit on our sun chairs
Friends come and friends go
But now if we need them
We know where to go
And during the summer
A talented man
Regaled us with music
Beethoven ~ Chopin
Enticing each note from
his silver Euphonium
A treat for our ears
so much better than tears
And discovering he lived
on the opposite side
Never knowing his name
or from whence he came
Playing music for our souls
We may never be the same again...
So seeing what Covid 19 has done for me
Making me aware of new friends that were there
For that I give thanks for many friendships forged
Showing my appreciation with a round of applause
But ending each day as I look to the sky
Remembering with sadness the thousands who died
Their lives have now ended in a terrible way
I’m eternally grateful for every new day
Reflecting…
13th December 2020
Contest COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE 44
Sponsor Brian Strand
10th Place
Contest 'N' word old or new
Sponsor Constance La France
FIRST PLACE
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
ignored the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang in every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees spired mightily in view,
and full proclaimed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, and their love degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and over,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms,
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once beheld,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labor hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora.
For whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst dark and Shangri-la!
Red: A Definition
Primary and indispensable.
Intuitively felt as warm, never cold.
Romantic in its nature with body and depth.
Wafting sentience from a glass,
Willing drama to a bedroom.
Regaled as royalty by nature,
Often reduced by perception.
Best known and least understood.
Loyal, virtuous, the keeper of secrets,
The orator of life,
The measure of love.
I want not someone else’s words
Though beautiful they are to me
Inspired, yes. I want to feel
But let my words flow sure and free
My fickle muse awaits his call
Yet bellows simply do not wake
And patience is now wearing thin
This rest needs no more time to take
Is confidence the culprit here
Has insecurity prevailed
I’m wishing, hoping fervently
My pen to swiftly be regaled
Hitch hiking ghosts with a hue of blue
Were picked up on a Sunday in 1952
The driver was my dad, name of Lou
Who enjoyed their company more than they knew.
I heard the story growing up each year
On Halloween, for my daddy had no fear
That anyone else would call him a liar.
Apparently it happened with a flat tire.
They were wandering down the road when it blew.
They ran up and asked if they could help poor Lou.
He was gob smacked when they took over and fixed
His tire quickly. He had thought he was licked.
They asked for a ride to the graveyard name Touse.
He told them he had to stop by at our house.
They rode along and regaled him with best stories of his life.
He raced home to explain the situation to my mom, his wife.
She gave him permission to take them quickly back.
He said they politely refused a quick Twinkie snack.
It was Halloween night which he did not think much of that night.
But whenever I think of this, I get a bit of a fright.
You see the travelers were opaque, and you could see through them.
He enjoyed telling this story to strangers, on a bit of a whim.
They always looked like he was insane, slightly crazy.
But they hired him anyway, for he was never lazy.
Lula Pickering
1887 – 1906
Have you seen my bluebirds today?
Have you fed them a few crumbs of stale rye bread?
I must have taken a hundred walks as a young girl
In search of my freewheeling friends.
And with only my slender shadow at my side,
I recited a million silent invocations to my Lord.
I greeted the noon tide on those many happy occasions
As if in flight myself.
And my only friends,
Regaled in flying blazing blue,
Flew with me to fantastic heights
And I kissed the rising sun a hundred times
But received not even a smiling sigh in return.
And it was in Black Canyon
That I discovered the one true answer to my only question in life.
I discovered that love is a clinging cloud
That arrives and sometimes lingers.
Or it is a cloud that moves on quickly
Like a late train to Los Angeles in 1904
Leaving only a faint wisp of windy dust in its wake.
Roscoe Settle was that cloud;
A cloud at once full of light and rare beauty.
A cloud that stood still and refused to wink or budge.
But I gave Roscoe Settle my pursed lips
And like a silly infatuated fool
I gave him the hidden treasure within my bosom.
God knows that I pleaded and begged like a panhandling maniac
For my handsome boy to stay.
To stay forever with me in this town of sensational sunsets
And of soaring spiraling bluebirds
In search of a lonely jilted girl
Who now walks as an ethereal restless ghost
Amongst the crosses and stone lilacs of this dead land.
Only my parents knew of my untimely demise.
Only the sheriff and Mr. White knew that I took my own life.
And that I ended my life over Roscoe Settle.
I found the old rope in my father’s barn
And the last thing I remember
Was the quick snap of the rope
And of my soft svelte neck
As I threw myself,
Noosed and sad
From my father’s hay loft
On a moonless August evening.
Though a delicate fever reeled on,
with zest, I stood up from the bedside
and prepared a racy jiggle of dance steps,
beneath a dappled Capricorn morn rising.
Like a young pixie in dreamy wonderland
guided by notes of a band’s entranced songs;
my hands trailed away around the room,
while male escorts gracefully led the pace.
Eighteen roses and more adorned a hall
enlivening my cheeks reddened by bliss,
while velvet toes regaled in eased motion
unmindful of a high fever which lingered on .
Radiant in a crimson gown sewn by Mom,
O joyous Dad grasped me for a slow waltz
to highlight a crossing unto adulthood
as new moon flashes a debutante's snapshots!
Judy Konos' Contest:Let's Hear It
2/8/2016
~ Memoirs of my debut at age 18,
sophomore college
Have you ever wondered where it all began
The rituals marked among the Celtic clans?
Look into the past and they are found
This day is when the sun would turn around
For when darkest days of winter fell upon
The Pagans found a way to carry on
And through the years traditions tumbled down
For this is when the world now turns around
There are fables told and many customs formed
Of the apples pressed and wassail spices warmed
With toasts regaled when snow skimmed off the ground
This day was when light would turn around
There are moments keen with memory as bright as fire
And woven wreaths would halt all spirits dire
While Pagan songs across the land resounded
For this was when the sun would turn around
A Yule log fire would burn for twelve dark winter days
And ashes kept to bless the next year on its way
Reverse 'o time, as ebbing days were found
This is where the sun would turn around
They would meditate and dance among the trees
And hide their faces, chant with chivalry
The radiant light would stretch the day with crowns
This is where the sun would turn around
This is where the past now comes undone
Reverse earth's darkness with the golden sun
This is where old legends come unwound
This is when the light would turn around
________________________________________
For Cyndi's Contest: Seasons of Light
Dream again in this timeless land
Of beauty, nature created
By wind and rain and scouring sand
Eroding the sandstone plateau
To orange and black striated
Bee-hive domes, enduringly slow
Nature’s eternal beauty unveiled
Soar high above with eagle’s eyes
To comprehend and be regaled
By this majestic mystery
Where no man’s foot print ever lies
And time rebounds in history
Dream again in this timeless land
Nature’s eternal beauty unveiled
Purnululu is the Indigenous name for the Bungle Bungle area in the East Kimberly in Australia.
It is a world heritage listed area of unique Silica and sandstone Bee-hive domes.