Best Revelers Poems
When fleeting storm said goodbye
The darkened sky detected a lie
Besting clouds her thoughts host
Drenching doubts that block riposte.
As the cobalt sky and ocean meet
On the sapphire arc revelers greet
The changing season's vibrant theme
In golden attire of autumn's dream.
The sound of wind whirls in trees
Musical tones of rustling leaves
And the falling foliage flies with ease
Orange hues in autumn's breeze.
As the sepia tones enchant her eye
The gilded leaves of autumn sigh
On buoyant horizon drifting high
Where crimson vistas touch the sky.
Vivid vibes spell a brand new start
As blazing colors awaken her heart
And amber passions begin to reveal
Tinges of magenta in love's appeal.
September 2, 2018
Placed first in One in five (II) poetry contest by Joseph May
Placed first in contest #560 by Brian Strand
Upon autumn's stage where vermillion vistas and cobalt-blue sky meet
Picturesque hues enchant, oscillating in breeze, as scarlet landscapes greet.
Falling leaves trickle down on golden yellow fabric in shades of amber fire
As barren trees fight gusty winds to hold on to remnants of brown attire.
Chilled air empowers imperial red tinges to adorn vestiges of fading green
Transforming lakes and ponds into heavens of romantic crimson scene.
Harvests of freshly cut grains cheerfully celebrate season's festive meals,
Sipping cinnamon tea and sampling pumpkin pies, welcome autumn feels.
Revelers rejoice glimpses of winter under moonlit-glow of freezing nights
As naked forests sway in tandem, yearning for the rebirth of vibrant sights.
October 4, 2018
Placed 3rd: Seasonal verse poetry contest by Brian Strand
Placed 4th in Vermillion autumn couplets contest by Vermillion Scythe
In depth of woods how autumn dazzles, swirling beauty of ornate décor,
Waltzing with ochre hickory, birch; whirling flaxen moods of sycamore,
Gracing my view upon blazing foothills, where vistas gamboge scroll,
Bedecking maples, swaying rhythms, with fiery red of shimmying knoll.
Zephyrs of west rustle demeanor of black tupelo, fluttering leaves gold,
Glistening burnt orange of sugar maple, revelers in sundown behold,
As remnants of gilded twilight beams, glimmer in purpled afterglow,
Weaving motifs of fall in tapestries idyllic, of blushing eventide aglow.
Autumn’s grandeur glows, as crisp frost gleams, mellowing overcast days,
Where gelid winds shudder trees, foretelling imminent wintry malaise,
Meandering with leaves falling gently; carpeting dyed, chromatic meadows,
As the arena of fall’s resplendent show, shimmers in elongated shadows.
Harvest Moon enamors sights, appealing to fervor of romantic glance,
Enthralled watching dance of stars, attuned to tenor of cosmic expanse,
Gliding over a charming night, wooing souls glued to autumn’s ruby fire,
Flaunting pizazz panoramic~ a farewell of fall-splendor, in cerise attire.
Turning life’s pages of albums, treasured memories rekindle seasons past,
Thankful for the abundance of goodwill~ heavenly blessings destiny cast;
As conversations savor aroma of pumpkin pies; buttery, nutty, apple tarts,
Spending time with family, friends; exchanging missives of kindred hearts.
Cerulean lake flows beneath azure dome
Charming revelers in waters cobalt blue
Gazing into horizon where eagles roam
Greeting scenic pastures in aerial view.
Upon shamrock landscapes quiver golden rays
Crafting shadowy shapes, drawing zealous praise
Foretelling onset of twilight colors soon
Preparing the stage for ardent summer moon.
July 8, 2018
First Place in Mid July standard contest by Brian Strand
Placed 2nd in Summer Rispetto contest by Barry Stebbings
Rhyme: abab, ccdd. Eight lines, 11 syllables each;
Verified on howmanysyllables.com
The humid Hawaiian heat hobbles my head and heart too,
Hitting as the Humvee high-tails past on the highway,
Sweat seeps steadily south from scalp to shoes
Convection current cooking, keep pedaling, pores crying.
Howling Haleakala Headwinds hammer hard,
Freezing face, fingers, and forehead.
Wistfully watching the warm water Westward;
Blasting breeze’s blows batter my body backward.
Soft saline sea spray spritzes the sunbathers
As the surges' steady smashing against the shore
Rhythmically rocks the run-down revelers
to a sweet, sun-kissed, seaside sleep once more.
For Elements Part 2—Wind Contest (First Place)
Sponsored by Brian Davey
Judged 3/29/16
Lost Echoes
lost echoes wander silent valleys
reverberations orphaned tones
disconnected from their source
long ceased – solemn call to prayer
wasted on the ears of the callous
dried on the clapper’s lips
no need to welcome revelers
invite the workers from their fields
the center of their lives resides elsewhere
frayed, dusty ropes hang muted
no hands to give them voice
soft winds and whispers fading
on the fallow fields of hope
dry, creaking, members
bowing under toneless weight
birds, undisturbed in their nesting,
coo in the conic complacency
of the hollow past
the world is deafened now
the last of the pealing bell tones -
lost echoes – wandering silent valleys
John G. Lawless
7/25/2015
submitted to –For whom the bell tolls – Poetry contest
sponsor – Debbie Guzzi
How can it be that autumn so soon again is stealthily approaching,
With its pleasing sounds, scents and varied hues steadily encroaching!
The bouquets of summer have faded and their petals they have shed,
Now, the maple and aspen assume their gorgeous robes of gold and red!
Anon, their bare limbs reaching for the heavens as if in supplication,
Will be adorned with garlands of snow to enhance their decoration.
The haunting honks of geese is heard as they flee the cold and snow,
Guided by The Master Compass from whence they come and whither they go!
Old Harvest Moon hanging from the ebony sky will emit its mellow glow,
Providing perfect ambiance for lovers strolling hand in hand below!
Happy revelers will enjoy hayrides, marshmallow and wiener roasts,
Lounging about glowing fires spinning tales of spooky goblins and ghosts!
Soon, hordes of pirates, witches and fairies will be prowling the streets,
And stopping by to make their annual plea for Halloween treats!
Thanksgiving Day is on the horizon, a day set aside for counting our blessings.
With tables laden with green bean casseroles and turkey and its dressings!
A special day to honor and thank our Valiant Veterans will also be observed,
And to remember and thank their supportive families for they also served.
I can say without hesitation that autumn is my favorite season of the year,
And since I am in the autumn of my years, I especially hold it dear!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Fall brings mosaic colors of falling leaves,
soon after hues dissipate to barren trees.
Storms churn clouds in mighty thunder,
thrashing rains fall, sun quietly surrenders.
Softer breeze flows as horizon says hello,
awaiting hiding sun to peek with a rainbow.
Stars roam to brighten the Milky Way soon,
moon transforms from gibbous to full moon.
Winter pleases revelers with gusting snow,
mountain-peaks shine with enchanting glow.
Spring paints rising meadows pleasantly green,
nature hosts panoramic vistas of lively scenes.
College kids flock to beaches on spring break,
exploring moments of love, joy, and heartbreak.
Celebrating graduations and wedding season,
a new chapter on impending life gets written.
Joy of summer wraps in rampant humid heat,
glimpses of cool breeze intermittently greet.
Random changes speak of unpleasant themes,
foretelling broken lives and shattered dreams.
Earth rotates, sun rises, night accepts defeat,
perseverance harbinger of awesome new beat.
Winds of hope cheerful new day will bring,
singing birds foretell arrival of another spring.
September 1, 2017
Placed 1st: Winds of Change
Sponsor: Julie Rodeheaver
Placed 3rd: Strand choice W contest by Brian Strand
Night's falling
Slow dance
And music's drifting out of doors
Under the stars the ocean roars
Whirl dip
Fragrance fest
Mellow moon
Scarlet sunset
Almost gone
And Mars can be seen above
In the season of the dove
Diamond stars
Pearl moon
Summer dance
Warm breeze
birdsong trees
A night of color and song
And the moments move slowly along
Laughter inside
Gay revelers
Dreamy days
Written on 1/3/2021
For: Trinet Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
revelers in sleigh
moonlight on fresh snow powder
Currier & Ives
Gun shots popped.
Revelers dropped and bled.
Most ran.
The injured lay
on the trash-covered ground.
Some stayed and covered
the wounded or dead.
The shooter was found and shot.
Or maybe he turned the gun on himself.
But he comes back again,
the same rage in a different cell,
the same soul in a different skin.
The crime has not been solved.
Let’s call it what it is:
A serial killing spree.
Open wounds are re-shot
shattering nerves and floating debris—
a stronger blast hits the same spot.
We cannot heal.
We have no real security.
Is it time to say,
“Mountains, fall on us!
We don’t want to see anymore.”?
Or is this another isolated incident
in a neighbor’s back yard
that we can ignore?
Rita A. Simmonds
Early October, 2017
And the revelers move in a parade
Belly dancers, clowns and people with masks
Ending with music, food and dance
This a preparation for the arrival of LENT
What kind of repentance is this ??
Parading your sins before the world ??
We have it in Goa and little clubs in Mumbai
I retreat into my silent zone.
Leo Tolstoy your words to me are like gold.
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 whip 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 revelers
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
*As we prepare to celebrate Veterans Day, I would like to thank Paul Callus
for co-writing with me. Our veterans deserve more than we can ever give them.
A concert hall was filled to capacity,
with revelers unaware of the atrocity,
they were about to face.
Evil dressed in black, intent to kill,
aimed their weapons with precise skill,
and fired into that place.
A favored cafe on a Paris street,
where friends, loved ones oft would meet,
drinking their cafe au lait.
Assassins came and took their position,
to kill and terrorize their intention,
on that tragic day.
Chaos ran rampant in Paris, France,
as ISIS took its murderous stance,
against humanity.
Many were wounded and many died,
and all the world was horrified,
at such insanity.
Anger rises alongside mourning.
Retaliation swift, without warning,
the French fight back.
The world must stand up to these thugs,
destroy them, squash them just like bugs.
We can't be slack.
We mourn with France for those who died,
and we will stand close by her side,
until we win,
this war against cruelty and hate.
Annihilation will not be our fate.
We won't give in.
11/24/15
For Debbie Guzzi's Rime Couee-tail-rhyme
contest for France
Tied for 3rd place
Beautiful summer day. You know you're gonna die
that's why you know no joy.
Obsessed with self, there is no answer
unless religion, tv, stories, sports matter.
So what if nothing rhymes and I don't
bring my life into an expressible state
or fight purposelessness, anomie. No one writes.
Running the gauntlet alone. A good day to die, the Apaches say.
For men like us dying's easy, it's living that's hard.
And since dying's much like living, that's hard too.
There's some contentment in letting community decide
your place in it. We're not talking to you.
Really, it's a perfect day. Every leaf is out
that's coming out. The grass is high
and unidentified yet another year. Being knowledgeable
is the best defense against your insignificance.
Can't stop the quince from blossoming
or my sons from smoking, speeding.
The best that can be done or said's a blessing.
Less tv, less guessing
about the effects of your anger unless
you want to be an angry man forever.
Coming from the funeral with friends,
talking on the telephone. OK about being alone.
Alive, almost sure of it. Whether I'm a visitor
to my life or the actual owner.
Mature poets steal, most are masturbators.
This house could use a good cleaning,
dusting for ghosts. I should subscribe
to the local newspaper, do my job well,
do less until one thing's done well.
What would that be? Old, and yet so young.
There are a million poets, I'm poet #500K.
Plenty of mysteries, infinite philosophies,
prayers, laws and unwritten rules.
That's why we go to school, life's complicated.
All I do not know: ATP, probabilities,
the glorious revolution, meiosis and mitosis
and all I'll never see, the bottom of the ocean,
the palm at the end of the mind, a wolverine.
There are certain indicators, undeniable,
inexorable. Forget-me-not, is that all I want?
To get lucky, you gotta be careful first.
To be great, you gotta be willing to sound BAD.
Although we cannot make the sun stand still
yet will we make him run. Brave revelers.
Signed engagement letter attached.
Attachment to self and to things to do.