Best Relished Poems
I was at my favorite restaurant and I'd had a lovely meal,
if I finished all my food then a pudding was the deal
I’d relished every morsel and was pleased as a Cheshire cat,
the dessert menu was on its way, oh I couldn’t wait for that
The waitress brought the menus, I rubbed my hands with glee,
oh sticky toffee pudding, now that’s the one for me
She came to take the order – we had waited as you do,
turning to me she said ‘now Madam, what can I get you’
Oh stiffy cockie pudding please was my swift reply -
I didn’t realize what I’d said till I saw tears form in her eye.
I went as red as a beetroot and the others began to laugh,
at my spoonerism which turned into a complete gaffe
The pudding it came quickly but I couldn’t wait to leave,
I choked on every mouthful, how my stomach it did heave
So please take notice of my error on this horrendous day,
if you order sticky toffee pudding be careful what you say!
Shadowed in the silent room, the daylight's nearly gone
Dusk climbs in through window glass, with one last ray of sun
I start the task, climb on a chair, reach up to shelves so high
to mother's boxes neatly stacked, and dust gets in my eyes
I take one down, to look inside and sit upon a chair
I find some musty linens, laces needing some repair
Discovering old photographs, the year was '42
Her face was smooth as porcelain, unblemished, young and new
Old documents and letters, a history unveiled
Her letters, torn and yellowed, such stories they would tell
The next box held small china cups, so lovingly embellished
And then I found a book of verse, inscribed with poems she relished
Some dresses stained and wrinkled, their fabric thin and tattered
Were once a thing of beauty, as if they really mattered
Her jewelry, gold and silver, some lovely rings and brooches
A warm sensation circles me, her presence now approaches
I sense a change come over me, and fleeting leave of gloom
The darkness of the evening lifts, as sunlight fills the room
She wraps her warmth around me, her fragrance in the air
My loneliness is free to go, I know that she is there
Among these things, I find the last, the smallest box of all
Inside it are the baby clothes, I wore when I was small
A letter there to tell me that she knows the tears I've cried
Her words of love that never died, they fill me up inside
These treasures speak her words to me, and now that I am grown
She wants to tell her story, those parts I've never known
I've heard her voice, while sitting here, among her china flowers
I"ve found such peace, she's next to me, to spend these quiet hours
____________________________________________________________
Written 6/8/2008
Submitted to Contest: "Old Jewelry or Just Old Things or Old,
Old Poems/Poetry Contest "
Sponsor: Broken Wings
This is a slightly revised repost but which was formerly deleted.)
I climbed the high mountain,
breathed in the harsh high air,
really relished the beauty
of the valley where you lived.
And all because it was a custom
to present a perfumed edelweiss
to you whom I loved
in those days gone by.
But you would have none of it,
rejected me out of hand.
I felt dejected and frustrated
but then remembered the old legend
how a damsel princess of old
the beauty of the vale,
remained nubile unattached,
for none deserved her hand.
Thus to her death she remained single
and all the men who loved her, wept.
They buried her high upon a mountain
and covered her grave with roses red.
But as spring came upon her grave
grew lovely white flowers whose scent
embellished the mountain tops,
and everyone agreed that
the flower should be a remembrance
of their love that remained a dream.
A flower all called edelweiss,
a memorial for eternity.
On a walk after the worst of the Sandy storm
I slogged down the still dampening
Green grass valley rutted between
The moldering fences of the shadowed alley.
Under the low, ominously rushing, soggy gray clouds
I saw so many black birds silently
Clinging against the stiff breezes
To the broken branches of the skeletal oak on the corner
As if they relished the fate of the cruelly stripped leaves.
I saw a hundred crows there.
How many make a murder?
Black pointy wraiths;
Scattered commas lined up like
Iron shavings stuck
To magnetic branches.
Dull steel skies slid in vast arcs around them.
Sprinkling windy foreboding,
Their clouds reached down
To Collect their talons.
So many eyes I know they see
Spiny black needles poking out of me.
Bloodless murder, muffling gray gauze No need to caw…,
A hundred crows see it all.
Prologue:
It takes a heart free of hate
to let go of a false ownership
to step beyond your fears
provide strangers a helping hand
It should be a pre-requirement
of possessing our largest organ
that which clothes a person’s frame
everyone should earn their coat of skin
defines them as humans
than we could easily separate and remove
the demons roam Earth disguised as people
they sat paralyzed
as various notes brushed lightly against their senses
eventually accompanied by bare traces of rain
stroked their faces with naked fingers
occupied their emptiness
with the welcomed whispers of music
spread their lips
leaving a lucent mark of bliss
on the bones of their cheeks
the melody
drew them into an imaginary reality
safe from the ugliness of their truth
“another day of hell on Earth”
(a hell willingly supplied by hollow frames reciting words from their Fiery Red God while hiding behind a faith they never understood)
temporarily frozen against the symmetry
of an angels canvas
they would breath the unabridged artistry
for a brief but satisfying moment
the musicians for the time being where their Gods
and they relished in the quenching fruits
filled their empty dreams
the simple beauty of song was undeniable
Epilogue:
It takes a heart free of hate
to let go of a false ownership
to step beyond your fears
provide strangers a helping hand
It should be a pre-requirement
of possessing our largest organ
that which clothes a person’s frame
everyone should earn their coat of skin
defines them as humans
than we could easily separate and remove
the demons roam Earth disguised as people
The beloved Queen of Hearts was a merry queen, who'd ever loved to bake;
Like confetti midnight stars, sparkling; or the yellow, noon sun, wide awake.
She baked myriad varieties of cookies, and delicious pies of different kinds;
And also scrumptious cakes, so divine. Like pure gold, tinted rainbows find.
The king had a cheerful disposition, too, but betimes could be quite stern;
Like the scarlet blossoms, which fail to thrive, before floriculture is learned.
Faithful friends became part of the many faceted court, like tinted bubbles,
Fancy dressed, and as vital to royal felicity, as a jade rose, with no troubles.
Forthright family were familiar at court, in the fleet, peregrine falcon days,
Fast-forwarding to fabled, fruity tomorrows, and to fitful, spiced, solar rays.
They lived in the house of green ivied walls, in the royal, emerald summer;
When golden sun visited almost every room, eager to touch a world of color.
Silver maples touched sapphire skies, on their street of red, sweet Williams,
Edged by creamy sand, where the surf came, onto teal, foaming, pavilions.
Nighthawks and wild wood anemones, were neighbors, bestowed by nature;
In nameless, never-ending, silvery hours. Red butterflies, loved floral flavors.
Heart tomatoes adored the orange sun, when wood ear mushrooms listened;
And Canterbury Bells plants were ringing, by roses whereon dews glistened.
Toad lilies stared in bug-eyed fascination, at the searing season of surprises;
And Billy Button blooms were getting dressed, as skies split in colored slices.
'The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, all on a summer's day;' a Friday.
But alas, 'The Knave of Hearts, he stole the tarts, And took them clean away.'
When purple even arrived, 'The King of Hearts called for the tarts,' in a roar.
The lad relished sweets, but the king was mad, 'And beat the Knave full sore;'
'The Knave of Hearts brought back the tarts, And vowed he'd steal no more.'
The kindly queen quietly quipped, 'After all, the boy has never stolen before!'
The King of Hearts was returned to good humor, and that lad kept his word;
And was back in favor, like pink spring tulips, or a song of blue mockingbird.
Would you be proud,
would you tell me out loud
If you were still on this Earth ?
Would your eyes well with tears,
would you smile and say “ cheers “
would you feel I am someone of worth ?
Would you wrap me up tight in your arms with delight ?
Would you see that I now have a purpose?
Would you now believe
it was so hard to leave my old life that resembled a circus ?
Would your heart swell with love ?
would I fit like a glove
into the family you nurtured ?
Would you tell all your friends ?
would your love never end
now you see that my prospects I furthered ?
I see you in dreams and your face seems to beam with that beauteous light that surrounds you .
I just pray that you see , that there’s lots more to me
than the girl that you left far behind you .
Could you be close by ?
Are you near when I cry
In the wind softly drying my tears ?
Could it be your embrace ?
Is the sun on my face ?
Stroke my arm when I’m facing my fears ?
Would you gift me a sign that you’re hearing my rhyme?
That my words have been able to touch you ?
Every moment I relished,
conversations I cherish.
How I wish I could reach out and clutch you.
Though you have now gone
your wise words linger on,
they’re engraved in my mind now forever.
Through the veil that divides,
This tie will survive.
I’ll not let our bond ever sever.
I was a red-violet, sunny morning person, usually up at the crack of dawn,
When orange light poured from the east, upon revival, dewy green lawns.
With a cup of aromal coffee, I'd watch yellow sunrise creep in the window,
Enjoying the zestful song of red robin, while night and day were in limbo.
I would take walks at the golden hour, flooded in light, just after a sunrise,
In the serenity of wanton, floral summer, slowly unveiling a destiny prized.
Visits of friends were features of morning, for sunup fondness is infective,
As flowers soak up colors of white sunlight, telling of the new perspective.
Family and I fascinated flaming sunsets, fancy dancing like we had forever,
At evening fetes, long fated; like feathery, dark green ferns-wind treasure.
I lived in the house of taupe sunrise, always trending towards golden noon,
As fitful stars, flickering like fireflies, stay on course, in presence of moon.
Sunhats, sandals and pretty sunflowers, were summer sights on my street,
In tranquil days of wild seas, giving the selfsame roar, as it cooled hot feet.
Nearby stars gleamed like natural pearls, on nebulous nights of neighbors;
And the natural conversation flowed nonstop, like the whistling wind labors.
Bat orchids awaited watchful moon, yearning for caves among field flowers;
When ballerina orchids danced, entranced, by plum shadows' magic powers!
Crimson corpse flower was blooming, in a torrid wake, held in lazy summer,
And snapdragon seed pods imitated skulls, where future flowers slumbered.
One day dawned exceptionally beautiful, a sight bringing rapture to my eyes;
As plum and orange, merged with pink, gold and red-fleeing night disguised!
I went about my productive work, but I noticed the day did not seem to age,
Like a glorious history book caught open, when distraction didn't turn a page.
Although I was very puzzled, I relished a pause for precious, pretty mystery;
Like the lovely, floral pause of gemmed hummingbirds, in times of blissfully.
After several long and rapturous hours, testy time gradually began to move,
For a beginning ever looks towards the end, as if it had everything to prove!
"Reveries are gifts of moments, even melancholy ones,
when our hearts were happy."
~ by poet
We planted a flower garden, he and I
Throughout spring's sunny weather
Shared our hopes among heliotropes
We did everything together
My reveries linger of when my finger
wore a ring that he had given
My life is marred and I'm scarred
By the thorn love used to scathe me
We grew roses in nurtured beds, he and I
Throughout summer's warm weather
Relished each bloom and its perfume
We did everything together
My reveries are treasured memories
But the summer days have ended
We live apart and it wounds my heart
For the thorn's still causing harm
We shared wine when we dined, he and I
Throughout autumn's chilled weather
Drinking Cabernet, he vowed to stay
We did everything together
My reveries at sunset fill me with regret
Gone are those days of fall, one and all
Chilly winds blow, and soon it will snow
The thorn still pricks my skin
We played in the snow like children, he and I
Throughout winter's frigid weather.
We walked in the moonlight every night
We did everything together
Until we said goodbye, and now I cry
In sadness I weep; without him I can't sleep
My reveries remain, and with them the pain
Of a sharp thorn in my side
We loved each other, he and I
Throughout four seasons of weather
Days of dancing, nights of romancing
We did everything together.
Reveries of us I can't forget, and yet
I wish I didn't remember that December
When it all ended and I pretended
Not to feel the thorn that pierced my heart
Dad gave me my first wood baseball bat
an Eddie Mathews signature model, 28 inches long
when I was 10 or 11 ('66 or '67)
shortly after he got me my first lefty glove
(I still have it, so small! with a bullseye crudely hand inked in the center!)
after a few years, it splintered near the handle
I tried nailing it back together, the hickory
shaft was tough to penetrate, but I kinda got
it done, then wrapped the job in some electrical
tape I found
whenever I tried using it again, hitting a pitch
sent shivers thru my hands and wrist like a
lightning bolt shocking me
before long, I left it in the sports closet Dad built
into the canned goods cabinet in the basement
he made for fall canning
so whenever I opened the cabinet door, the wonderful
smell of wood and leather combined with the
rows of gleaming jars of fruits and vegetables
delighted me!
canned beans, peaches, pickles and more
all lined up to select from when Mom or Dad
would send me downstairs to choose side
dishes for supper
frozen meat was kept in the 8' freezer chest
in Dad's workroom thru the door
being sent for that was a special privilege
my brother and I relished
( my sister, being 3 years younger, didn't get many chances!)
I remember there were honorary sports relics in
the closet on the top shelf
a leather football helmet Dad's Uncle Depot wore
before WW11 along with his old softball, the kind
with the exposed seams (I still have it)
wonderful memories
from a
magical time
I will always treasure
© james marshall goff
A box of old shoes under the stair,
Discarded, unwanted, no matching pair.
No longer needed, pushed out of sight.
Resigned to this box, and a fast fading light.
Soft supple leather with creases to spare,
Polished and nourished with infinite care,
Deep, deepest red, black cherry hue,
Once, long ago, a fine ladies shoe.
Dirty old canvas all tatty and frayed,
Laces have gone with age they have strayed.
Way back in time in Olympics it shone,
The end of an era, the last race is run.
A crusty old boot with steel in the hide,
Remembers the days the land it would stride,
Helped build this country relished the role,
Undaunted, unbowed, grit in the sole.
A soft velvet slipper its partner long gone,
Lies quiet in the box while the world moves along,
Once in a while a pale silken glove,
Holds it so gently and strokes it with love.
Such a wearisome time in this box of rejects,
What happens now? What happens next?
Each knows the answer. No use debating.
It’s the end of the line, and Heaven is waiting.
Original Poem Just Desserts
I was at my favourite restaurant and had a lovely meal
If I finished all my food then a pudding was the deal
I’d relished every morsel and was pleased as a Cheshire cat
The dessert menu was on its way, Oh I couldn’t wait for that
The waitress bought the menus and I rubbed my hands with glee
Oh sticky toffee pudding, now that’s the one for me
She came to take the order – we had waited as you do
She finally turned to me and said ‘oh Madam what can I get you’
Oh stiffy cockie pudding please was my swift reply
I didn’t realise what I’d said till I saw the tears form in her eye
I went as red as a beetroot and the others began to laugh
At my spoonerism which turned into a complete gaffe
The pudding it came quickly but I couldn’t wait to leave
I choked on every mouthful and my stomach it did heave
So please take notice of my error on this horrendous day
If you order sticky toffee pudding be careful what you say!
2nd February 2014
This was my first poem posted here and was is my first poem to be published in a book by United Press
Response Poem to Just Desserts
When I read my ‘Just Desserts’ poem, oh I made such a gaffe
I am petrified it will happen again and everyone will laugh
At home I have been practicing the correct words I have to say
To order sticky toffee pudding again will really make my day
We still go to this local restaurant for a tasty treat
I love the food they serve, it’s a lovely place to eat
But when its time to choose my dessert then I begin to shake
After my terrible Spoonerism I can’t make the same mistake
I smile sweetly at the waitress who comes to take my choice
Then clear my throat gently so I have a steady voice
I want to order sticky toffee pudding, the dessert of my dream
But I chicken out at the last minute and order an ice cream!
Contest - A response to My First Poem
Sponsored by Silent One
09~27~15
Mother Earth bearded with trees,
Blanketed with skin of sod,
Her stony organs composed
of caves, caverns and caches,
Banking precious minerals and gems.
Sustained by the Solar system surrounding her,
and nourished from relished rescources within.
Her ferocious fiery heart
Pumps high pressured molten blood
Through vast veins of ledge,
Bleeding it from mountain pores,
Crater wounds and fissures
on her ocean floors,
Causing salty Tsunami tears
to ripple across her cheeky shores.
Her face wrinkled with the majesty of mountains,
Dimpled with canyons and crevasse,
Stained with grasslands and Savannahs,
and spotted with veneer of velveteen moss.
Pimpled by hills leaking with raging rivers,
bathed in cascading waterfall showers,
and crystal blue water lakes.
Animated by nature,.. her soul, ..her DNA
She adorns her antiquity
with shocking arrays of multicolored wildflowers,
Delicious fruit, a vital ensemble of vegetables,
Herbs, artifacts of energy and natural wonders;
Creating an electrifying, atomic, atmosphere
to stage her exotic creatures and precious beings.
Adorned by a circling celestial priceless pearl,
An exquisite orb as ancient as She.
She, this blue planet,
Center of her spatial stage,
Unabashed, pirouetting, posing,
Tilting and lilting her charms,
to a universal audience of retreating astral beings.
She, spotlighted by an extravaganza of stellar luminaries.
She, Earth, so powerful, energized, extraordinary,
Mesmerizing, distinguished, mysterious,
Thought by many to be the godess,
Star of the Show...
And yet...
and yet ..she herself..
and All of nature..
has been ..
CREATED.
Somehow I had loved you so,once…
When we relished vintage cherry wine until
The last pitch of a guitar man drifted along
harbour’s bay…and how our shared wishes
gushed around Trevi fountain, tossing coins,
rummaging new souvenirs that became
endless conversational pieces in our inner loft.
Yes, I held other thoughts about us, keeping
My voice low as angry words snuffed the
Fragrance of candlelight: but in a flash, time
Paused while you smiled to brush my hair amiably.
I loved you well, perhaps …maybe more,
Yet deep in my bones, leaving me alone kept
Rainy nights unbearable where we passed
Like abandoned ships at night… then what
About those evenings that won’t let me down?
This feeling of uncertainty, suspension, pain
Led to catharsis: because for all that was real,
The ghosts of old souvenirs ended love's glory.
Gren's Evergreens (Golden Oldies) # 1
Inspired by the song: ‘And I Love You So’
Contest of Teppo Gren 4/21/2016
Joy! Joy! of all the honors I have earned
In a lifetime of trysts, mazes, and twists
None have I so much relished, indeed,
As topping one of Poetry Soup’s lists!
I only wish they would send a certificate
I feel like my soul would be duly kissed,
My head swells with pride, such renown,
If I wrote music, I’d feel like Franz Lizst!
I know some are eat up with jealousy --
Somewhere down there in the foggy mist,
But there is always room at the top
And someday, surely, you’ll make a list.
I hope you have figured out, by now, I jest.
I would write poetry if I never saw my name
Writing, my tongue firmly planted in cheek,
I would be a fop to write poetry for fame!
written December 23, 2021
[inspired by a recent poem
by a Poetry Soup poet!]
#33 on the Month's Best Poems List
January, 2022