Best Remember Poems
A field afire
papery petals glow like ruby votive candles
a collection of cupped solar flames
vowed to shine despite the dew before dawn
evaporating any doubt the sun would rise
the mist would lift
consoling one in darkness
Rising up where wildflowers past have fallen
victim to soil fallow and shallow
your Spring growth resurrects my hope
as your resurgent blooms stretch to the heavens
I awaken thawed from the frost of loss
regenerated by dreams
of undying love sacrifice and joy
O poppy blood red
vast your bed a symbol of life and death
and imagination.. you inspire me with your irony
your roots belie a feathery foliage
anchored though airy
light and looking like you might take flight
but spirited blossoms stand an army of angels
earthbound and blushing
My breath stops when I gaze upon you — yet
when I walk among your thronging whorls
grazed by your grace
my chest rises and falls
my bloodstream set ablaze
by the grandeur of your inner light
my heart rejoices with the voices of breezes
aswirl with a swish through your scarlet banners of peace
We share a savor for new-day chardonnay skies
tender the warm tinge before summer’s singe
rhythmic air moves us with singsong sighs
a swaying dance of sepaled celebrants
with nary a fresh bud trod upon
crimson and sunrise spirit and flesh
raising palms and psalms in thanks and praise
festive in rebirth and remembrance
where tears fall not as rain but as
c o n f e t t i
as my heart carries the bouquet of your immortal beauty
like a bride on her May wedding day
Susan Ashley
March 11, 2022
*Dedicated to my father who gently passed on June 10, 2021.
You are loved and missed dearly, dad
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Spring Showers or Spring Flowers
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
*nary: not, or not any
(Image: Glow with pride: Express.co.uk)
The things I value,
The things I cherish,
Are things no one else will
When I perish
Do I write a missive
Explaining the why?
Would this help save things
After I die?
This brown dead rose,
A gift from your dad,
Brings back the best night
I ever had.
This bead of pink
Once on a baby’s wrist
Only memory left
Barely a wisp
The things I value,
The things I cherish,
Are things no one else will
When I perish
Chosen Poem of the Day by PoetrySoup on 10-11-2018
. So
appear
the visions,
kind
of my
scenes
Unwind.
With such joyful
thoughts of all those yesterdays.
The times we both spent together.
Reflections of fun in any weather.
The days when you were mine.
Yes reflections are so fine.
^^^^^^^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^^^^^^^
Yes reflections are so fine.
The days when you were mine.
Reflections of fun in any weather.
The times we both spent together.
Thoughts of all those yesterdays,
With such joyful
unwind.
Scenes
of my
kind.
The visions
appear
So
Remember me through poetry
For poesy's my legacy
Poems for you I leave behind
Engage your heart, your soul and mind
Remember me, when the wind laughs
For there, I've left my autographs
When the zephyr tickles your cheek
Memories will flow, hear me speak
Remember me, when seasons shift
In recollections, catch my drift
When Summer turns to Winter pale
I'll be there in the stormy gale
Remember me, when music flows
A part of life in highs and lows
I am the unsung song you hear
That timid voice, now loud and clear
Remember me, when sunrays dance
Don't forget me, give me a glance
I'm the light in dappled shadows
The sparkle in sunlit meadows
Remember me, when the rain pours
In the drizzle, I am all yours
Catch me in reminiscences
I've crossed the murky distances
Remember me, when flowers bloom
When their aroma fills the room
I'm alive in each open bud
I'm the crimson rose's lifeblood
Remember me in silent nights
When darkness overcomes the lights
I'm the shine of the farthest star
The moonbeams prancing from afar
Remember me, forget me not
I am the story and the plot
In every twist of your old book
I am hidden, just take a look
In every word that you spell out
I'm the whisper, no need to shout
People will say, "Just leave her be"
But I tell you, "Remember me".
Remember me...
A fresh sweet scent
of last gardenia
on yesterday's linen sheets
Remember me...
A cherry bud
in your backyard orchard
revealing first pink shades
in once upon a soft blown kiss
Remember me...
An early summer
sharing your beach towel
and coconut butter
Remember me...
A roaring log fire
on a stormy night
in the hallway
to your bedroom door
Remember me...
a short~lived star
that fallen into your arms
then faded to nothingness
upon the empty shore.
Remember me ...
The blissful moment
The saddest song
in your forevermore
Somewhere in a dream,
Serene and blissful from the start
It comes to me again
The two of us in love, and eagerly alone
Breathlessly naive', and blissfully assured
that we would be as one
...that nothing in the world outside, could ever be compared
Two bikes took rest against a tree
We climbed the nearest hill,
Through foxtails, deep and thickets, high
Along a creek bed, far and wide,
wading through warm granite stones
Slick and wet, with velvet moss
littered deep with autumn leaves, and the urgent tender years
My darling...do you remember...?
We were like children, we marveled and swooned
at the shapes of the clouds in the lavender sky
changing their forms in a wink of the eye
We were wild with love, that stirred the stones
Discovering firsts, and thirsts unknown
Layers of years, now whisper here,
Imprisoned in this hidden place, with every breath of air
Not a fluent time that bends or moves
...but time fully reasoned, with ancient eyes
Unwound of it's youthful eyes and loves
Where dulcet words plucked out of space
Have not been tinged by autumn's breath
And innocence is scattered like leaves upon the breeze
And lingers, ...with a sweet wistful sigh
We who once made love, ...a thousand skies ago
Have slept with tossing shadows and lilting cries
Still tremble with the memory
Oh, ...I know the subtle ways of empty dreams
And I shall go by silent lanes and leave this day....and you....
....timeless here
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I long to fold my eyes and softly creep
beside the brook of fancy, as it flows
to tumble off my trundle bed and sleep
and dip the stardust with my drowsy toes
within the world of reverie and dreams
I cast my cares, like nets, upon the sea
so woven as the moon, within its beams
imagination's breadth, now comes to be
with all the dreamy pathways that I stroll
the routes are always varied, always new
and still, each destination brings its toll
as all my sojourns find their way ... to you
but I would ne'er deny my heart that ache ...
if only you'd come with me ... when I wake.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Most Comments Received Poem 2018" Poetry Contest, July Morning, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Sleepwalking" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Sponsor & Judge.
~ 5th Place ~ in the "Contest Number 470 Any Form Or None" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor & Judge.
I remember, oh how I remember
the years that have gone by.
Our doors were never bolted
our windows never closed.
Women had part-time jobs
knocking on doors all afternoon,
their comely voices bidding:
Madam 'tis Avon calling for you.
Meantime grandma would sit
outside the house and gossip
with friends who passed her by,
whilst we would wander all alone
in fun parks or green meadows,
flying our gaudy coloured kites,
and gathering cowslips for our dear mum.
Gary, you are my little soldier boy,
who died on Veteran's Day. ('83)
My sunny, golden-haired soldier boy,
that I still miss in every way.
You had just turned 13,
getting interested in girls.
When CF took you from me,
my heart, like a flag, unfurled.
You fought CF with every breath.
For 13 years you tried.
And four lung collapses later,
after each one, I said,
"Son, you will survive."
Oh, how I lied!
Now, no more hugs and kisses,
No more birthday wishes,
I watched you go
and please God know,
Heaven, receive my treasure.
Author Note: This poem was written in memory of my son, Gary,
who died of Cystic Fibrosis at 13, in 1983. I honor my soldier who so valiantly
fought his fight on the battlefield of a life threatening lung disease, which fills the lungs with sticky mucus and makes it difficult to breathe. With all CF children,
they struggle with every breath they take just to breathe! My son eventually
started to have lung collapses. He had four before the last one took his young life on Veteran's Day weekend in 1983..(Read my poem "A rainbow Glitters")
I wouldn't be a poet today, if not for my son. He was diagnoses at age three.
As I sat by his hospital bed crying, I reached into my purse for a tissue, but
instead, I pulled out a pen. I thought to myself, "Ok, God, I get the message.
You want me to write and not cry." So I wrote my first poem that night, "Not
MY Son!" Which eventually got published in Elizabeth Kubler Ross' Book "On Children and Death." Later, I wrote humorous poems to entertain my son, who
was often to sick to go to school. And I'm still writing my poems today.
Oh Avi, Avi
Sometimes, with my eyes closed
I see you dance
A dervish, whirling, like me
And I wished
Oh how I wished you would
pirouette into my arms
You would hold me
How I would hold you
But my arms and yours
caught girls, alluring and delicate
Oh Avi, Avi
When you laughed
My stomach turned
And multi-coloured butterflies
And small flying kites
danced into the air
Occasionally you glanced at me
the way I did at you
I think you did
Oh Avi, Avi
We were so young
Just boys, small boys
Thinking about you still
makes my day smile
I wheel my chair
With light rhythmic movements
Dreaming about a time
Where I still had dreams
And you were in them
With our tights and muscular
Frames and our *****
Avi, oh Avi.
***
March 7, 2017
© Darren White
I will always remember the moment we met.
(Haunting woodlands in springtime, your slim silhouette)
The glint in your eyes sparked a tempest at dawn
overwhelming the dreams of a slumbering fawn.
I will always remember your singular smile
(Fusing fantasies, fancies and phantoms the while)
when I brought you a daisy, then fled from the room,
weaving dizzy designs on a mystical loom.
I will always remember first touching your hand.
(Like the wing of a sparrow, frail fingers were fanned)
With my heartbeat aflutter, I jittered with joy -
on the surface, a man, though inside still a boy.
I will always remember the sound of your laugh
(Merry mermaid amused in a summer sea bath)
as we strayed 'long the strand, for a moment, alone,
with your tresses a’ tousle and tumbled and blown.
I will always remember your breath on my skin
(Seeking castles in chaos, a spirit in spin)
as you drew me aside and our tongues first entwined -
tangled twists of amour had begun to unwind.
I will always remember the fires of love.
(Shades of autumn ablaze in the tree leaves above)
Crazy passions ignited whenever we lay
painting stars in the night with the dazzle of day.
I will always remember the nightingale's tune.
(Divinations awash neath a ruddy blood moon)
When we kissed to its cadency, laughed as we danced,
lurking lanterns in limbo forged shadows enhanced.
I will always remember the shattering knell -
(Wanton words tolled in winter... ‘Adieu, dear... farewell’)
just a note near a nook where so often we slept
which I read and reread and reread while I wept.
In the darkest of times
be the light of a candle
but the harshest of crimes
to let melt your candle
***
Give, unmindful of a reason
feel the heavy burden light
remember to mind your reason
fill your very soul with Light
***
Like a delicate dove
bathe into sweet waters well
feed on the seeds of Love
reach not the bottom of its well.
I gather twilight shades and arrange them in a vase
wild hues of lips just kissed
and princely pomp captured in cut-glass
embraced and tamed -- though
their petals flame in reflective facets
tinseled hearts filled with a harvest of falling stars
inspires desires of satisfaction
as thrill of nightfall’s gold lingers like cosmic light
in the stardust of afterthought
Susan Ashley
April 26, 2020
~ First Place ~
Contest: Completely Your Choice (23)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
No one can forever soothe a soul,
as all memories evaporate like sunrise dew,
but remember me
when mist congregates at dawn.
Recognise my ghost,
when the fresh breeze brushes your lips.
I will be hiding in the khaki hues of nature,
from the first bloom,
to the last thorn,
to the last leaf,
as my spirit is the essence of four seasons,
so remember me among the 'forget me nots,'
and the scents that bring a pause.
When you paint your masterpiece of dahlia,
don't ignore the moon gazing in awe.
Unless you have given him a new name.
In the tranquillity of twilight,
notice me beaming, surrounded by lanterns.
Unless you no longer recognise my eyes.
In sun searing reveries,
as turquoise waves soften sandy ripples,
listen to spirits whispering our lyrics,
and remember me when adorning lilac fibres,
which you stripped from my chest.
When thunder knocks at your door,
and lightning flashes at your windows,
will you remember me
in the humidity after the monsoon?
When the path is dark,
and the journey turbulent,
will you commemorate me in you sighs?
I cannot return the souvenirs,
gifted to me from your words,
nor erase double edged metaphors,
where love's reflection, once glittered,
so when your muse is lifeless,
relive our recollections
without the need for ink.
Upon the arrival of silence,
when your hands have nothing to hold,
place them together
and remember me
in the sacredness we once shared.
Simple Sunday Musing.
21/6/26
clad in rags, he wanders on Wall Street
he is invisible to hustling stock brokers
he is a man with no money, no property
a hapless struggler of excessive loan burdens
bitter winter winds blow across Broadway
he is invisible to affluent theatre-goers wearing warm winter coats
he is a man who watches them scurry past the cardboard box that is his bed
like a rain-dog, huddling in the shadows of alleys and doorways
he hears deafening explosions of New Year fireworks
he is invisible to the revellers
he is a man who cowers, recalling gunfire of a war he fought
echoing through his mind in restless nights
the incessant thumping of traumatic stress
he is invisible...a victim of post-Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq
who once bore a uniform and served his country with pride
he is invisible suffering alone, paying the price
through severe disabilities and permanent scars
with sadness, he watches voters going to the polls
he is invisible, a veteran with no voice in elections
he is a man who cannot vote without an “address”
a placard on a pavement might catch the eye
unemployed, homeless, unseen
but most of all forgotten
he is a man who seems invisible
but he is still a man
-------------------------------------------------------------
This is co-written by Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire
in remembrance of our war veterans.
[Published @ Muse to Move (A.P.F. Publisher UK 2017]