Best Ringlets Poems
Winsome Wisteria Sonnet
Eden, open your ardent arms to grace
Wisteria's soft lilac petaled blooms
Draped stunningly about Spring’s sunny face
In softest shades of lavender like plumes.
Your aroma wafts heady in the breeze
When graceful racemes descend from above.
Divine as the frilling flowering trees
Your stunning sight captures my heart with love.
Goddess Venus must surely be aware
Of the glorious sight that you bestow
Like dainty dangling ringlets in Spring’s hair
As zephyrs sprinkle your petals below.
I am profoundly moved by your presence
And tranquilly transported with pleasance.
4-19-21
Poems of the Day April 21, 2021 ~Thank you Team Poetry Soup!
ALL YOURS (Apr 20)Contest -First Place
Sponsor Brian Strand
Your best sonnet this year so far Contest -Second Place
Sponsor John Hamilton
My thanks to this site for the photo of Wisteria:
https://target.scene7.com/is/image/Target/GUEST_5f778c57-02de-4839-9233-d70736dddd8d?fmt=pjpeg&wid=1400&qlt=80
My dress is made of fine peach coloured lace
Hair is in ringlets, which frames my pretty face
The lights in the room cast a romantic glow
My first ever ball; I must go with the flow
The orchestra strikes up a wonderful tune
Ladies and gentlemen glide round the room
I stand on the sidelines I am oh so very shy
Then a dashing young man catches my eye
I smile at him, then I coyly avert my eyes
I find him so handsome; that I cannot disguise
He reaches tenderly for my awaiting hand
We move to the dance floor; oh it is so grand
His arm wrapped around my tiny waist
We dance to the music, there is no haste
So full of excitement at the hope of romance
I float round the room at my very first dance
At the end of the dance he bows down low
My heart is aflutter I hope this does not show
He leads me gently to the side of the room
Sweet roses enchant us, we smell their perfume
Time flies by so fast and we dance all night
He looks in my green eyes and to my delight
Whispers so gently those words I long to hear
You simply are the belle of the ball my dear
He reaches out gently and kisses my hand
My first ever ball has been oh so grand
Sadly now it is time for me to depart
I bid adieu to the man who has stolen my heart
4/1/19
2019 Poetry Marathon Final Placement
Sponsor: Mark Toney
11~15~14
l.
Opening the closet of narra doors, I sweep through
organza skirts and gemmed ringlets; my hair
ruffling aimlessly upon scalloped kerchiefs
smelling decade - old hyacinth, Mom’s favorite
ambrosia: she would lift her anklets
in tiptoed hums, ”night and day, you are the one..”
Evenings touched her candle hands; hands
that soothed wounded knees from jackstone fights;
her fingers caressing a pony -tailed girl’s wrath
with piano keys rippling into a gentle moan;
And i am delivered from my tempestuous rants.
ll.
From nowhere, the porcelain mirror gazed at me;
her rhythm of silence billows, cradling my nights
with each veil of her almond eyes
that enter into my irises: a serene sight
too close, much too tight I clung to her unspoken word.
Through years, I grew like a bamboo shoot: her quiet smiles
and music walked me through reality’s maze.
And how I would wail bearing the grim of hard study,
coughing late, late hours of reading toil…yet,
she stayed like a moth with charm flushed
in a wind of calm gaze, ebbing .
lll.
And only Mom could melt my temper
when my raging soul paused to wonder
at her light’s glow: oh, her feminine beat illumined
more lamplights dancing inside this rebellious head…
and now, she hovers around me.
I become her eyes, chanting;
never balking at my surreal conquests.
She is gone bequeathing warmth into my torched flights
without question; with much love dripping
from her graceful movement, straying all through
these my breaths: “night and day, you are the one…”
This evening called passion
“Moonbeams now blushing ‘pon soft heavens ashen,
love flowing deeply, this evening called passion”
Ensconced in effervescent lingerings
sifting through moonlit seams
Soft flavored drippings of ecstasy
melting slowly within the fever
dancing across my skin
as your fingers trace
the outline of my deepest secrets,
mysteries lodged in seductive breaths
Your love my opiate, addictive enchantment
Stimulated senses heightened
Moon drenched quivers, silver lined
adrift on satin sighs
Floating delirious within
hypnotic eyes,
seducing my mind in eternal desires
Trance infused emotions
cling to each nuance of mesmeric longings
Swirling smoke ringlets
penetrate stardust cosmos,
culminating in sensual motions
atop gilded sheets
drenched of our rapture,
etched in euphoria
Two silhouettes entwined
on this evening called passion
Good night Soupers
Have a great weekend
See you on Monday
May your days be filled with happiness, joy and laughter
Always know I love you, a poem is what I’ll gift forever after
You’re in my heart and soul, as a child and as I mature then grow old
I cherish our memories, your motherly love, from sunrise to sunset
forever more
My mother’s eyes of ebony, sparkling stars
Carefully, she tints her lips gypsy red
A cascade of flowing ringlets, her hair shines from afar
Muscatels quaint yellow ribbons a lovely corona spread
Slipping on an elaborate Norteño style flared dress
Exquisite ruffles swirl and billow before her rapt audience
Instructor of folkloric dance, a god given talent unique no less
Her blithe unbounded spirit, free as a mariposa
Images of her forever I keep, radiant and hermosa
The humid air sweats streaming curls down the toddler’s flush cheeks like Fusilli hot from the stove. The golden ringlets cling to her forehead, bouncing like Slinky’s in front of her, blue-agate, eyes. The backyard’s sounds-bat cracks and wise cracks-surround her. Squeals echo from the mounds of loam behind her new house. The homes out back form a red, yellow, blue, green monopoly board configuration.
The sand box she sits in is full of scrap two-by-four blocks. Using a naked purple-haired troll doll, she attacks the pine-block castle, tumbling the battlement. A plank spans the puddle
(created by the leaky green garden hose). The barefoot tike, troll in hand, starts across the board toward the moonscape of mud mounds; where her sister and friends run screeching armed with rotten tomatoes. She almost makes it before falling in and running mud covered to mother.
Polish Catholics, Italian Catholics and Irish Catholics, lived side by side with English Presbyterian’s and we errant, runaway, Jews. The scent of tomato paste, knackwurst and borscht wafts through the same soupy air, where we play King of the Mountain. Big Boys and Plum tomatoes flew indiscriminately through the August air like missiles. The only thing which stopped the action was the distance ringing bell of the Good Humor truck, here on Cherry Tomato Alley. Here where each new neighbor had transplanted themselves: their children, their gardens, their sprinklers, and their cars to fulfill the American dream.
First Published in Melancholy Hyperbole Spring 2015
Winsome Wisteria
Eden open your arms to grace
Wisteria's soft petaled blooms
Draped stunningly about Spring’s face
In shades of lavender like plumes.
Your scent wafts heady in the breeze
When racemes descend from above.
Divine as the flowering trees
Your sight captures my heart with love.
Goddess Venus must be aware
Of the glory that you bestow.
Like dangling ringlets in Spring’s hair
Wind sprinkles your petals below.
When over the arbor you vine
I'm deeply moved by your presence
You loom aesthetically divine…
Transporting me with your pleasance.
8-11-16
Each one of us has His or Her own Flower of Attraction - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Rick Parise
Sweet woman of Yahweh
sing to me
the Song of Songs
song of love
with kisses of wine.
I desire you
as Adam desired Eve
primordial affection
this knowledge I seek of you
my beloved one.
You are dark and beautiful
but grace alone is deceitful
beauty by itself ever so vain
you my love possess both
coupled with the fear of Yahweh
for you are deserved of praise.
I seek you
when dusk turns to night
Shabbat
the remnants of daylight
is in your eyes
leaving a kiss of the days memory.
Let us read from the books of Zohar
we are surrounded
by the Kabballat angels
where the Shabbat Queen
restores our love each week.
Oh my love
suspended are we
between the secular
and the sacred.
Almighty God has created
this wonderful world for us
in radiant shards and sparks of light
tonight we tend our souls.
Come let us embrace the Kaballah
I draw for you
a most wonderful mandala
for my darling
a dream is dreamed three times.
The evening is upon us
I see over your shoulder falling
your hair in serpent like ringlets
your black hair is twisted
to allure you to me
my new found lover
Shabbat Shalom....
Black roses sprawl, to droop, then fade
raking tendrils of her attic’s shades;
a brief display which glints inked nights
only for time’s sake, buds do parade.
How fleeting the luster of stems’ arms,
between weeping dusk and chilled sun
twigs crack like love's farewell --sad moon,
a wish-- the fragrance of bliss gone.
She digs remnants; gazing afar
perhaps to cuddle ringlets of star,
that hides dawn’s lamp from memories
instead her eyes reflect more scars.
Though pain mocks unbecoming heart
a young bough nestles on ground's arc;
granting reprieve in place of tears
to kindle sparks for dance to start.
Open Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot
7/12/2015
The black ones I got from my mother,
The glamourpuss Welsh princess;
The red ones came from my dad,
The freckled Irish redbeard;
The blonde ones were mine as a baby,
Ringlets that bounced when I ran;
As a child I turned to a light brunette,
Thick and fine, flecked with my ancestry.
But the grey ones are all my own doing:
I made them, I earned them, I deserve them,
I worried them into my life,
I worked and partied, I pushed myself for them,
Those late nights are there to be seen,
And all the hair dye in the world
Can't cover up who I've been.
The swell of cloudburst pours its showers;
gently tapping on night’s dewy aisle
while raindrops spill like pearly dots,
along a lush garden where ringlets flit.
O but that smile enthralls dusk’s approach,
upon her glow bridal buds enhance
as drizzles change hues in sky’s finery,
her gushes bearing gushes from corners of eyes.
A mellow dance of sleet frolics with the breeze
*while the rain kisses her cheeks her essence,*
this nearness which consumes wisp of air.
.............
6/8/2016
ika-labing-tatlo (13th): Rain, Rain come my way
binibining P.iNk’s Contest
*habang humahalik ang ulan sa kanyang mga pisngi,
sa kanyang kababaihang makabuluhan*
Dawn, when silence falters
And the trees of the range-
Are tucked in a bucket of fog
Marching dawn, whose beauty never alters,
I tuck myself in blankets like a log
At the Treetops Hotel upon the range
Dainty dreams upon dawn’s altar
The dappled peacock dazes the dawn
While the African crowned eagle
Will soar, prowling for prey
And tourists peep and picture the fawn
While their eyes prowl the breakfast tray
Jacaranda festooned fashion regal
Its blue flowers blue snowfall upon dawn
Elephants trudge to the watering hole
Buffalo follow, even the bush buck
The warthog always walks silly,
The big five will steal your soul
At the Ark's perch, you will be stuck
The water adorned by the pond lily
The range's serenity, waters your soul
Pristine streams gush from the moorlands
The Hagenia, decked in velvet green
The sword lily, sheathed in fibrous tunic
And as the Karuru falls hit land
True love will pierce to the gene
For pristine nature, is the true cupid.
Breaths bated as lovers hold hand
Further, nestled nigh in the blue skies
The Kinangop peak, peeking through
The closer I get, the further it hides
A sun bird chatters, along my trail's high
My eyes in tune, such wondrous hillsides
I sweat as I head towards the bamboo
I am among the butterflies
Ringlets in a dance, oh! Surreal world
Monkeys swing, tree to tree, a trail of imagination
A reed buck is openly grazing
A canvas of the grassland in its gold
I spot a Serval cat, in hiding
On a safari truck, the breeze is an inspiration
Beauty flows in the altitudes that I behold
At dusk the steeped villages prepare for sleep
The Nyandarua range, yawns its last
Fabled home of the Kikuyu god
Curtain like shadows befall the steep
And this wonderland begins to nod
As the women fluff off days dust fast
Men’s ears wide open as it darkens deep
Wild animals are known to visit
Roving around, excitement for the young
But the animals are known to visit hungry
The locals know too well, memories vivid
An elephant’s wrath is meted out bluntly
Protection for man and beast not far flung
Conservation and nurture is the spirit
As Mount Satima watches her watered floors,
She knows the heart goes deep
Collaboration with njeri hunjeri who is a wonderful poet
/I\
~a branch
snuggles it tight,
messing ivory ringlets
while beneath the orchard,
grayish cones on iced moonlight rips.
Winter now bears her dry skin, as children
romp around a frozen trunk with boughs gleaming
like crystal tassels. Nippy a fir which quavers through
whiffs of glacial air : the assemblage of leaves
falling through hardened snowflakes...
Quietly, new moon brightens this view
Crowning its frothy head on an evening
where owls
trembling
dizzily on
its twigs,
hoot low
eyes wide;
until the tangy scent pervades
long after evergreen slumbers on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12/6/2018-- Revised
Shape Contest for Eve Roper
"Curls...
Of spring passion?
Lacerations of decadence?
coiled in ringlets at the nape of her neck-
light wrapped in strands iridescent and bent
toward her silhouette's kiss.
Shadows on a match box painting
absorbing the skin and silk shed cloth."
Frozen air movement shakes me awake
as another museum goer
brushes by my sleeve in an attempt to read
the description... (I am nose close...)
Tremendously, I pull myself away
to the Hallucinations of a Toreador
pulling the scope out on my looking glass,
for one is finely tuned, painted with the single hair of a wishing bow...
and one is the size of my heart, unraveled and sky scraped,
and yet remarkably blurred to initial understanding.
I toss aside propriety and sit down on the ground,
Indian style, in front of grandeur-
a mist of streaming people dissipating my vision
of the surreptitious melting clocks, oozing time
all over the floor, soaking my favorite shoes...
And so I pass the afternoon alive,
briefly breathing in the dusty air and DNA of genius.
I light a candle and in its flutter
open envelopes,
each one holds a piece of your past
I make old stories fly.
A child's ringlets
bounce in a mirror
new shoes skip
ten to two
eleven
three
Lip-gloss, eye-liner, braided hair
strapless dress, stilettos
brisk kisses in low-lit alleys.
Recorded memories
for your eager ears
And I see your freedom dance
in a last flicker.
Copyright © Darren White