Best Rimed Poems
Crisp…Crisp the night!
‘Pon cheeks as white as snow
Crazy quilt of rimed patterns
Limned upon the window
Soft…soft the lacy flakes!
Each one unique and new
Blanket o’er land and lakes
Winter’s take on dew
Games…games of Fox and Hound!
Pristine drifts of frosting
Turned into frigid battlegrounds with
Brief truces for time defrosting
Steam…cottony steam!
Wool mittens too near the flame
Cold stiff fingers, white as cream
Toes frozen from the game
Quiet…Winter quiet! (shhhh)
Sounds muffled by the fluff
Of snow so deep not e’en a peep
Can struggle up through the stuff
Smoke…writhing smoke!
Reaching for the sky
Chimneys breathing, tendrils weaving
Rising with a sigh
Winter…cold, cold hard winter!
Makes Summer wishes come to light
Til icicles fall, shatter and splinter
…Tis crisp…crisp the night!!!…
Categories:
rimed, snow, winter,
Form:
Ode
The sweet sweat chorus of forgotten voices
Bared and marred by torrents of ugly vices
The agonies of today seemed to know an alien song
Memories of yesterday was singing but out of beat
Soon the pains of tomorrow will certainly dance
To the agonizing rhythms composed in an orthodox club
‘cos our battered mnemonic ear of age long pauperism
Has being spent listening to that tuneless song
Sung as a song to the scribe of our soulless soul
Hopes capsized again in the waters of the once true church
The canopy gatherings of the great bi-colored religion
Where we know we would find our salvation
In the musty bibles where there were ghosts
On every page and death on both cold covers
This black Jesuit, our bullying gold rimed priest
Whose communion we daily upon starving feast
In a healing ceremony whose cure could be death
And our efforts useless as a spare prick at a wedding
But this golden chorus of forgotten voices unforgotten
We will sing even if the lyrics were written in purgatory
And composed inside the furnace of the nine hells
This will not quite have Angels for stanzas
To celebrate your lose lips that sink our ships
With Aryan salutes to secrets once moaned
In a Nazi torments on the desert winds.
Categories:
rimed, anger, bullying, hurt,
Form:
Blank verse
These woods so lovely dark and deep,
Pray the lord my soul to keep,
Forgotten promises did not.
Ice castles of regret bleed
Rimed ichor from Pluto's cold pot.
The horse ridden with no harness,
Mistakes were made in earnest,
Flying crystalline children scream
Love has miles and miles to go
Before it finds the frozen stream.
I think alas its true perchance
To dream of warmth and then glance
At sun, but they darken my view.
These shades of grey conceal heaven
In frosty undertones they skew,
I have miles to go and never sleep.
Categories:
rimed, philosophy, weather,
Form:
Rhyme
A canticle I think I'll be,
A rimed thought, hoary and ancient,
Stinking as the dust heaped up empyreal on the hills of
The Judean sands;
And as dulled and dimmed as an archaic coin tarnish'd.
This is what I think I might be.
I'd as lief be this as any other you might care to name.
Valid is this, my remote and removed claim,
And it all began hereon.
O, that was an age ago, that remote and bygone time,
Rimed with hoar-frost and the whitishness of ancientness,
When as blood-soaked, cruciferous hills remote and circumvallatory or else
Perhaps circumferential to the great, walled city, itself circumvallatory;
When all this began.
When this particular beguine to which we've all been dancing lo this many score of years began.
It was as a woman bedecked in black on a Sunday morning newly kissed by the auriferous dawn,
(A goldener dawn than even that on which she met the man whose coffin she was now appointed to follow in a moribund processional, a macabre and solemn, ceremonial dance of death,)
Going down to the fixed graveyard.
That day was as the day on which I first deigned to join this,
And adopting unto myself the sobriquet, shibboleth "A canticle I think I be"
(For I was not permitted to use the full appellation I wished to apply to myself,
Owing to some stupid and recondite rule regarding and regulating the use and due conservation of characters: Yet not those as those of the mainstays of literature, no! I mean to say the characters that are synonymous with words and spaces and punctuation and the like,)
And here the tale ends, though 'twas not Moschean nor Noahide as
I perhaps meant it to be.
Oh, well: All's well that ends well.
(For was this not an idiotic tale, yet a harrowing one, whose lightest word would harrow up the young blood of any and all who saw it, read it, perused it?)
Categories:
rimed, absence, adventure, allegory, anger,
Form:
Opened the cupboard what a find
Dented can deep in behind
All by its self pushed to the side
Sadly like that meaning to hide
Like the rest but different yes sure
Reinforced rimed made to endure
Went a bit sideways began to roll
Hit the floor went for a stroll
Came to a stop wooden boarder
Picked up again left like a hoarder
Now you are found what to do
Have to choose soup or the stew
Need the sustenance dented one
Another problem could be for some
No clear markings missing your label
Dented can will not make table
12/30/2017
Categories:
rimed, humor, loneliness, metaphor,
Form:
Rhyme
The winter is so long this year,
So snowy, windy and severe.
The storm is blowing, can you hear?
But I feel safe, ’cause you are near.
It`s like a fairy-tale, my dear:
The window`s rimed, no longer clear.
I like this winter`s atmosphere.
And I feel warm `cause you are here.
Categories:
rimed, friendship,
Form:
Oh the heart tears.
It beats and throbs.
Well springs of light lanterns
Weave and bob.
Still, darkened grime rimed
portals glare,
sad, empty-eyed adults stare.
Oh the heart tears.
Its pulse expands.
Forced back;
dark dwellers disband.
Replaced by children’s crimson cheeks;
lollipops, pigtails, skipping feet.
Small hearts, so precious,
small hands so bold;
reaching out the world to hold.
Oh the heart weeps, it weeps for joy,
but only for one girl or boy.
Categories:
rimed, peopleheart, heart,
Form:
Rhyme
Winter sticks its icy nose onto the window glass
causing dust motes to rise and fly as they pass
You can almost see them shiver as they shy away,
not wanting to go outside into the frigid air to play
Blinds are closed at 4:00 o'clock and tea is on to steep
Supper is early and by 8:00 o'clock all are asleep
Cats snuggle close in bed, seeking warmth where they can
Covers are raised high under chins of every child and man
Breath draws its portraits in the chilly air with puffy whirls
breath from nostrils exposed, rises ceiling-ward in curls
When morning comes, will build a cheerful fire in the stove
as we gather close around, not daring far to from it to rove
Ice skates hang up pegs by the ice-rimed back door,
scarves, gloves, mufflers, in piles taken from the store
No one thinks to complain about the weather outside
They just await an hour when there will a joyful sleigh ride
Categories:
rimed, winter, writing,
Form:
Rhyme
Fir-crested top of hill,
glamour of spires,
peaks along the horizon -
skyline which inspire.
In the Ravine,
grow wildflowers on the flanks.
Burdocks are on creek’s banks.
On the prey is falling, Falcon’s hunting beak.
Alder’s leaves yellowish brown,
plants uprooted by the stormy wind
and the talus which fell down –
wilderness charming mint.
Tumbling streams are as a guide,
rock-rimed lakes – hunting dive.
To the sun with a night,
hawks are gliding.
Categories:
rimed, nature,
Form:
Verse
October should have falling leaves
Instead of pelting flakes.
It seems like Mother Nature
Has been making some mistakes.
Perhaps she’s getting senile
And dementia’s taken hold,
So despite the date, she’s sending us
Some snow and ice and cold.
The hay rides all have been postponed,
The pumpkins rimed with frost;
And people who planned outdoor galas
Must feel double-crossed.
There’s nothing we can really do
If Mother Nature slips.
With any weather she doles out,
We have to come to grips.
And so today, I stayed inside
And watched the snowflakes fly;
When crazy rules come from above,
We might as well comply.
Categories:
rimed, nature, mother,
Form:
Rhyme
The castle perched high above the busy city
ringed by a deep moat.
Fisher birds posed atop nesting sheds,
bobbing for koi,
preening their flea bitten feathers;
dreaming of past majesty.
Across the bridge through the massive gates
humanity, lumbered
passing layered levels of water gardens,
overlapping like the squares in a Mondrian painting,
forming asymmetrical rectangular patterns.
The basins of rimed granite block
edged in white limestone gravel hedged in an
early Fall display of chrysanthemums.
Categories:
rimed, adventure
Form:
Free verse
Sits beside his window, his red-rimed eyes
Unseeing
In his mind are sunsets and rainbows,
And shining stars in the dense cold blackness
Of space
He listens to the laughter of children, mixed
With the static roar of the engines
Of ancient warplanes,
And longs for the cool, loving caress
Of the sea
He dreams of a place where every decision
Is right,
And every game played
Is won
And the mezzo-forte of day diminishes
To the pianissimo of dusk, he wonders,
Did I do it right ?
May I play
Again ?
Categories:
rimed, absence, allusion,
Form:
Free verse
Not beauteuos to say but you more than
A frog to kiss, In nous you inflicts these
Emotions that spins round and round in
My mind, irresistable and the pulse harsh.
With a gaze to your splendid torso, brings
Forth a maze, that I am lost in thy white
Rimed perplexing eyes only my portray to
See bewildered in the dark pigmented iris
If not this be error, an optic nerve Beauty
Then I have learnt to appreciate my lady
And comprehend in nous my lameo not
To voe thy affections. A figment of minds
More than a fantasy... That you are even
The reason to my dawn ejaculations awry
Craiz as it is Tapiwa words cant weird all
In that is deeply hidden in fragile hearts.
Categories:
rimed, beautiful, love,
Form:
Quatrain
Her Side
By Sy Roth
Are they going to die like that?
Expire
Retire
As a broken, opalic string of DNA
Ribonucleic disaster
Worm-eaten womb
Ascerbic molecules.
Who enabled this procreatic mission?
They rimed it with a urine trail
Left --Her side
Discordant disdain
Heeding her rantings.
Across the hall a pink room
Only denoting her sex
Imponderable expressions of emotions
Laid bare among a string of rejections.
It echoes hollowly in the recesses.
She laid WMD traps,
Exploding in sickly apprehensions
A vale of tears.
The sisters fought the battle of Cain and Abel
Smashing their bloodless heads.
The progenitors walked between them
Without trepidation
To the other side
To vanish in a haze of decaying synapses
Leaving behind only questions
Left silent in the detritus of their disdain.
Categories:
rimed, age, angst, child,
Form:
Free verse
Am I a Summer’s Day?
By Sy Roth
Do I compare myself to a summer’s day?
I think not,
Winter’s chill perhaps,
Cold rivulets of icy waters
Coursing down a crenelated brow
Perhaps.
A dirge,
A threnody
A morose psalm to an ancient soul
A toddler’s wobbly steps taken down a bumpy road,
Rocks kicked up along dusky, chilled ancient iters,
Toted memories borne in metal hods
Black rimed with coal dust
To ward off wintry chills.
Humped to the lean-tos
Quickly, in the hurried winds of time,
Detritus carried along in waves of my own confusion.
And the summer’s day an illusion of
Tripping down bare-tree lanes.
I am the winter of my own discontent.
Categories:
rimed, bereavement,
Form:
Free verse