Best Reposes Poems
What pleasant dream may soothe my eyes
When autumn's breath may grace our days
Wondrous a dream in the blazing sunrise
That charms my heart in autumn's grace.
I've kissed a dream when I look into your eyes
That springs my face like vibrant flowers
In all the bright and sober hours
When the mortal breath of men may sigh.
Entranced within your loving eyes
While greyish skies grow young and fair
You threw your emerald eyes upon me
That you may arose this tender tear.
The eternal rose of love I've found
When all is lost and life is done
What perfect dream this life would crown
Dulce de las fuentes de mi corazón.
Your lingering scent bathes the empty spaces
When the silent pulse of morn would murmur
While melodies would draw its sweetest verses
To bless the earth on which you saunter.
Then the storming winds would pluck
The last of the fragrant roses
As to drift to you my dear beloved
When your gentle soul reposes.
Beneath a naked tree nodding in the winds
At the threshold of the withering buds
As bright as the rays on the trembling seas
Lapping in the mournful distance.
I reckon some folks prefer a hound dog lyin' at their feet,
While others might enjoy a twitterin' parakeet.
But be it a mogul's mansion or a humble flat,
A house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
Thankfully, my cat doesn't bark or scourge my pristine lawn,
Nor does he wake me for outside relief at the crack of dawn!
Furthermore, my dear old pal I seldom have to holler at;
A house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
My cat is content to have me stroke and brush his hair,
And happier yet if he can snooze upon my favorite chair.
A master of his realm, why should he ever want to roam?
Without an inscrutable cat, a house just ain't a home!
While he reposes upon my lap and I stroke his silky fur,
Ain't nothin' more relaxin' than to hear his soothin' purr.
He won't condone a walk, I'll certainly grant you that.
A house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
His independent airs and a few stray hairs I can tolerate;
Even my chair nigh the glowin' fire to him I will abnegate.
I 'spose you could enjoy a snake, pot-bellied pig or hybrid rat,
But a house just ain't a home without an inscrutable cat!
Entry for Tania Kitchin's "Cat Poem Poetry" Contest
Quiescence 2-6-24
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Quiescent
Snowfall resonates in unison’s octaves,
In low tones of falling flakes’ pink vibrations,
Waterfalls of snowflakes in gentle billows
Pulse in halcyon –
The resting heartbeat of dozing snowflowers.
Feathery gifts from the unselfish heavens,
Unhurried stillness
Hushed drifts,
Suspended between half light and vesper veils
In reposes of resolved hibernation.
Hypnotic hum of drifting hues, soothing bleakness,
Lingers through broadbands of snowy calm,
Like floating tides of resolution,
Lays hands on unsettled winds
And the flushed pulse of whiteouts.
In shades of snowbound solitude,
Drawn into the spellbound cadence
Of snowfall reveries' vital signs,
Breath slows into mesmerizing harmony,
Sinking into the hush to banish blizzards.
“The October night comes down; returning as before
Except for a slight sensation of being ill at ease
I mount the stairs and turn the handle of the door
And feel as if I had mounted on my hands and knees.”
----- “Portrait of a Lady;” T. S. Eliot
A golden afternoon,
Late October, and my thoughts
Are all of you, Suzanne…
Vestiges of your being
Appear on visages of
A hundred different people;
But none are you, not one
As green, as golden.
Hard it is to know no miracle
Will mend, no giddy hope assuage,
The scourge that slowly puts an end
To our valiant green and golden girl.
Memory takes us to days of indolence,
Of innocence, of children lying on a levee
Deep in lush, green, summer clover --
In sunlight almost as golden
As your hair -- beside a flowing river
Bearing away your golden hours
And the painless green of youth.
Now, in your green room, reclined
In shadow, our golden girl reposes.
Your courage lights the coming night
That does not dim the gold and green
You always shared, and still you share.
Beside a gilded wall of white a dainty bench is resting;
Victorian accents swirl about the ornate room, providing
An elegance, a beauty in each line and curve, attesting
To cultured tastes and upscale life, and hours spent deciding
What shapes and colors best would suit the airy, springtime feeling:
But looking closely, something there upon the bench reposes,
A lady's fan and soft kid gloves, their jumbled state revealing
What hasty movements cast them all aside when fragrant roses
Arrived in state with baby's breath, and some white note, nigh hidden
In bursting blooms of rainbow hue, by unknown hands delivered:
And having noted thus, the eye could not but roam unbidden
To she who holds the rose bouquet, to she who slightly shivered
With thoughts that youths so oft imagine, thoughts that made her giddy
And blushed her cheeks the color of the rosy dress cascading
With lacy ruffles from her shoulders, looking just as pretty
As her face, which looks for all the world like roses never fading;
Two lips like shiny cherries, or the poppies that she tends to,
Complexion like a creamy rose with hints of pink surrounding
The fragile outer curling of its leaves; brown eyes that send you
A warm, quick-spreading feeling, like the first hot sunrays bounding
Thro' seas of blue to make the greengrass grow. Now look, she's taking
The little note from out among the stems; perhaps with quiet
And careful steps the message could be read; I have to try it.
"My dearest Rose, I never could imagine so befitting
A name for one who does resemble all that man finds charming
In lovely blossoms: beauty surely, grace as they are flitting
In breezes sweet of scent, and frailty, which I find disarming;
So here's a gift no prettier and sweet than you. Sincerely,
A man that loves you more than you could know.
Quatrains of decapentasyllabic verse followed by a single line of iambic pentameter.
Written by Isaiah Zerbst. Published for the first time January 26, 2015.
I was strolling through Evergreen Cemetery the other day,
Glancing at epitaphs etched upon various stones along the way.
Some flowing verse was out of this world but I can only assume,
That the authors were forthcoming in how they met their doom!
"Should an inconsiderate bird upon my stone alight,
Please do me a favor and remove the blight!"
"Here reposes a dude who tried to rob a lady teller,
But she was a keener shot than this unlucky feller!"
"Here sleeps ace pilot Captain Cletus Cole;
His wings were clipped attempting a barrel roll!"
"Here reclines butcher Clyde who cheated on his wife.
Unknown to him she was also adept at wielding a butcher knife!"
"Here lies Hank his mortal shell riddled with lead.
He was nabbed rustlin' steers and the sheriff shot him dead!"
"Here is deposited the corpus of Eddie a top-notch baker.
He is now serving assorted donuts to his beloved Maker!"
"Please relay your regards as by this way you pass,
But for heavens sake, keep off the cottin' pickin' grass!"
"On a banana peel the dear departed slipped and fell.
We pray he landed in paradise and not in hell!"
"He didn't know his Volkswagen had all that power.
He met his doom head-on doing 90 miles per hour!"
"Fer nigh on 40 years old Hank rode this earthly range;
Now he rides in that final roundup on that heavenly grange!"
"Gambler Jim has left very few friends behind to grieve;
He was caught with a couple of aces up his sleeve!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Twenty four dead roses
Heat waves and reposes
No one knows what never was
Autumn breezes sing in melancholy hues
Flowers dance around paupers grave
Buried now yet never saved
From life's despair or a loving hand
Sadness is the graves last grand stand
Loneliness lost in cobbled stone alleys
No one sees the empty tear
Anxiety knifes the lonely mans fear
Autumn winds chant yet no one hears
Four and score and long ago
Childhood memories in rivers flow
Now dry and scorched on withered page
Dead poets lost in the mind of a sage
I reckon you'll find this tale of romance less fact than fiction,
But please bear with me as I try to give it plausible depiction.
I was about half asleep, musin' on the patio the other day,
When my gaze settled on my ornamental iguana on display.
It reposes on a stump in my rock garden starin' back at me.
It looks so real you'd think it could scamper up my apple tree!
Nearby is a birdbath that caters to squirrels now and again.
(Those dudes have taken over my yard by eminent domain!)
A squirrel dropped by for a snort and after much twitchin' of tail,
Leapt to the stump from the bath, that innocent iguana to assail!
And I'll swear this to be true, he hopped on the iguana's back,
Assumin' a very romantic position that really took me aback!
He lay there awhile claspin' the iguana with his quiverin' feet.
(Peerin' with half-closed eyes I tried to appear discreet!)
Strangely, he glanced at me as if to say, "What shall I do?"
I thought, "Son, I'm not in a position to offer advice to you!"
That lothario fell asleep atop the iguana soakin' up the sun.
In that little tryst, 'twas obvious that the inanimate iguana won!
I pondered, "Should squirrels actually mate with iguanas,
Would not the jungles of Guyana be teeming with squanas?"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
On a broad street 'neath spreading sycamores sits a stately dwelling.
Its elegance and surrounding grounds are so very compelling.
Gracious gardens and towering pines enhance its wide expanse,
All girded by a charming, yet sturdy, white iron picket fence.
Gingerbread ornamentation adorns its every eave and gable.
At the rear of the house stands a horse and carriage stable.
In my minds-eye I sit upon its front porch, so very inviting,
To muse upon its past and what made life there so exciting.
I see eloquent ladies and gentlemen arriving for a gala affair,
Happily anticipating the fellowship that awaits them there.
Outside huge flakes of snow waft gently to the earth,
But inside a blazing fire welcomes them to its cozy hearth.
The grandfather clock in the hall intones its sonorous chimes.
For decades it has dwelled there, overseeing happy times.
In the parlor a grand pump organ reposes by yon wall,
If only it could speak, what special memories it might recall!
The house has weathered the ravages of time with exquisite grace,
Providing warmth and comfort, when life moved at a slower pace.
Built to last for generations, built when guild took pride;
There, generations of genteel folk, loved, laughed and cried!
Entry for Nayda Ivette Negron's "Enchanted House" Contest
Winter storms dropped a tiny snowflake on a towering mountain top.
'Tis bright and unique among the myriad of snowflakes that did drop.
This rhyme tells of the mighty contribution that tiny flake makes,
As it begins its odyssey to grace our rivers, ponds and lakes.
It reposes deep within the drifts and gleaming mounds of snow,
And briefly provides winter sport for folks with faces all aglow.
But soon the warmth of spring rouses it from its hibernation,
To begin its journey, meandering to its ultimate destination!
It thaws and with others of its ilk begins to form a tiny rill,
Slowly flowing among the scree and pines down a sloping hill.
The rill becomes a pristine stream carrying the flake along,
Rippling smoothly o'er ancient stones, producing a soothing song!
The stream joins a rushing river, wending its way to the sea.
The one-time snowflake providing succor for land and stately tree.
At last it reaches the ocean, spewing from the river's throat.
'Tis incredible! This once tiny flake helps keep mighty fleets afloat!
At times we may think we're insignificant, contributing nothing at all,
But each of us is unique and can help, no matter how great or small.
Each in their own way can accomplish mighty deeds if only they believe,
Ever keeping in mind that tiny snowflake and what it did achieve!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Placed No. 2 inConstance's "Horses or Snowflakes or Horses and Snowflakes" Contest
October 2010
the slowing of life_
eyes stare beyond this world
oh, the last gasp ~
then, the silence
the thundering quiet
a loved person now becomes "the body"
the soul has left
a stone statue reposes
I weep ...
my grief forever to be
As Her Beauty Rivals Red, Red Roses
Gift unto her red, red roses
And perhaps a kiss or two
In her portrait she reposes
With her beauty through and through.
Dare the dawn admire her beauty
For morn needs its fairest queen
To live and love is life's duty
Her eyes bright shimmering green.
As moon's glow highlights her dancing
And heavens above her twirls
One's mind thinks of sweet romancing
Her face and long flowing curls.
Gift unto her red, red roses
And perhaps a kiss or two
In her portrait she reposes
With her beauty through and through.
Robert J. Lindley, 3-14-2021
Romanticism, ( Images, Beauty, Romance And Dreams )
Note:
I have seen this vision on lonely nights
Its promise a true treasure to desire
Those falling tears, at its vanishing sight
Breathes as does sadness at funeral pyres.
Note- I did find that much needed inspiration today....
You Were There…
You were there when the clouds came
And my world crashed down in heavy rain;
There for me. Never left my side
When we walked the valley dark through rising tides.
You were there to hear the sunshine sing
When my joy shone bright as spring;
Shared with me ev’ry day in dawn reposes
Like the fresh new air - the scent of roses.
You were there at the winter's start
When snowflakes blew across my heart;
Always there, walking side by side
The world turned away, your smile did not chide.
You were there in my searing pain
In my need, in each broken tear refrain;
Even there against all odds at the end of night
Like warmth of a new morning light.
You were there when my road
Looked too steep to climb, ready to implode;
Gave me faith I could reach the top of every mountain
Refreshed by hope splashing as a sparkling fountain.
You were there when I walked alone
In the thunder as the lightning shone;
You took my hand and gently walked with me
Sharing my troubled soul, setting my burdens free.
In my heart I know that miles and days can’t part us,
Your love gives me strength for the journey so precious;
You are here when it seems mountain valleys never end
You are here, here with me, eternal love, eternal friend.
10-21-22
Contest: From the Heart
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
NO GREATER PLACE TO BE THEN INSIDE THE SOUL LISTENING FOR SIGNS THAT ALL IS WELL WITHIN OURSELVES AND NEXT OF KIN. A LITTLE
PLACE INSIDE OUR HEART WHERE SOUL REPOSES LIKE THE TENDER PETAL OF A BLOOMING ROSE. IT IS A SANCTUARY BUILT BY GODS OWN HAND. A NESTING PLACE WHERE WE CAN HEAL. (B)
RELEASE THE VOICES OF THE EARTH AND SOAK IN THE SILENCE OF A BEAUTIFUL MOMENT, QUIET * SERENITY. CLOSE THE LASHES OF
YOUR EYES, BEGIN TO SEE THE BEAUTY OF GODS FRAMEWORK. THE STARS, THE MOON, THE SUN , SHAPED BY TWO LOVING HANDS. THE CLOUD FORMATIONS HUNG FOR YOU ALONE.
WHAT DO YOU SEE WHEN YOU LOOK AT THE SKY?(B)
THERE IS A LADDER BUILT OF STRONG CHORD AND VINES . USE YOUR HANDS AND FEET TO CLIMB UP . WITH EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE THE AIR GETS FINER AND THE SCENARY GETS SHINER . PLACE
YOUR BLOOMING FLOWERS AT THE TOP OF HIS ALTER AND OFFER UP A PRAYER OF THANKSGIVING FOR YOUR SELF AND ALL THOSE YOU LOVE.
SINCE WE ARE ALL FAMILY HERE, WE ARE ALL COVERED BY THE SAME
BLANKET OF WARMLY PEACE. (B)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpY7LTCl2gY
Throw on her sweet roses for in quiet she reposes,
for her heart was so very tired- I had to let her go
but she will live forever in the mazes of my heart.
My very best friend and my sweet kitty cat,
she wanted so little in life but gave lots.
One happy day I will enter heaven,
and find her waiting for me.
This is my prayer, Lord
__________________________
November 16, 2012
Poetry/Lyric/In Quiet She Reposes
Copyright Protected, ID 11- 436-418-16
All Rights Reserved, 2012, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, Old Poem
sponsor, A Poet Destroyer, Judged 06/06/2013
Fifth Place