Best Ripened Poems
Over the top lads, for old Blighty! Hold the colours high!
Say a little prayer for me, for this summer day we die.
My brothers from the ripened field and blackened mill, shop floor,
Your brother in a killing field to fight a rich man’s war.
In bloodied mud and shattered wood, fight legions of the brave,
Unwitting youth, you’ll do your duty until you’re in the grave.
A sergeant greets a fresh-faced boy, “welcome to the slaughter!”
Here you die from three diseases, bullet, gas or mortar.
In arms we fight together and in leaden hails we pass,
We die amongst the filth and stench that once was verdant grass.
“In the morning we will remember them” we hear the leaders call,
Those fickle words of history, will not remember us all.
It starts with only one -
one like me
a melancholy migrant
from the immortal part of her
to the locus of her physical being --
the center of her emotional wisdom
I gain heartfelt strength as I gather my forces
rising up en masse
riding cresting waves of woe
to breach the ramparts -
the welling rims
of her loving eyes
it starts with only one -
one perfectly ripened drop of sorrow
this beautifully packaged pain
and a lustrous cascade of soulful pearls ensues
wept gems pouring forth from a pure heart..
I am the tears your mother cries.
Susan Ashley
May 5, 2018
~ Poem Of The Week ~
Week beginning Sunday, May 13, 2018
~ Seventh Place ~
Contest: Early May Premiere (2018)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Poet's note; For my beautiful daughter, Jocelyn, you inspire me with your light, joy, spirited determination and intellect. Though your academic pursuits take you many, many miles away from me and I grieve your absence, when you return home I shall celebrate with tears of joy!
For today, however, I'll let my grieving tears speak for themselves...
I love you and I miss you, my Jocee <3
The bogs’ their fruit – the woodlands’ leaf
embrace a ripened red motif,
as cranberries and maples blaze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
Where starling murmurations dance
a breathless susurration trance,
ballet in blackbird-shape-shift haze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
And neath the cumulus, the breeze
colludes with stalks in raspy tease,
unfazed we ramble maize-field maze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
As apple-cider-sunset spills
behind the bluish granite hills,
I’m grateful for my eyes to gaze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
When rain does bead on pumpkin’s skin
his smiling face still lit within,
I pray myself be filled Your rays
Oh Lord, I praise October days.
Written for the Avebury Gorsedd, 24th September 2016
I wish you well...
I’m here, again…
Come riding in, upon the western wave
My hair all wove with golden leaves, my breast
As pale as moonlight on a hidden grave
And all the sins of summer long confessed
I come, again…
In sweeping skirts, with white swan feathers strewn
To brush the summer dust from weary grass
Make ash of aspen, damp the flame of noon
Before the frost freeze water into glass
I bring, to you…
Windfallen apples, berries from the hedge
Long shadows on the barrows, and the chalk
Wild winds to stir the willows and the sedge
And mist, and myth, down every path you walk
I’m here, again…
The promise of the harvest to fulfil
The energy of autumn, streaming through
The swirling springs that spiral round the hill
To drench the land in red and russet hue
I come, again…
Between the longest day and shortest night
To fill the blood and marrow of your bones
With all the orange glory of the light
Before the dark descend upon the stones
I bring, to you…
A cornucopia of ripened fruit
Dark juices of the vine in bottles bright
To nourish soul and body, to transmute
Your thought to dream, your dream to second sight
For I am She…
Am Autumn writ, in every field and tree
Am mistress of the Owl and running Hare
So yield unto my kiss, and blesséd be
And dance with me, oh Druid, if you dare…
@ Gail Foster 23rd September 2016
G O L D E N
flower
of the solar throne
your far-away fire reigns immortal -
blossom wild beauty of chrysanthemum skies
hold me in the unfolding glory of your well-wishing petals
as Indian summer’s rays ravish and relax the chill
tender is the topaz passion
in the sunset of your satisfied season
and seductive is the ripened ember
in the harvest of your lingering light
S O L
to soul -
suffuse my surrender with pulsar persuasion
your ambient nectar
embolden me the honey of your citrine haze -
a fortune my ruby honeycomb to save and savor..
anemone ambrosia for my essence to sip
when the amber blush of November’s kindled kiss
turns ashen
on Winter’s cold grey lips
Susan Ashley
November 9, 2018
~ Third Place ~
Contest: N/A Re-Run
Sponsor: John Hamilton
A collaboration between Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire
Where were you when she disappeared?
Is the moment caught in your mind?
Were you nervous as the day neared,
or to its approach were you blind?
She took the lonely winding road
towards the hills in purple haze.
The weary sun took one last look
then cast away its fading rays.
Were you watching the sun go down?
Did you grasp the consequences?
Did you see sunset's halo crown;
did waning light stir your senses?
She walked ahead; not once looked back
nor did she pause or hesitate.
As shadows fell to twilight’s touch
she came at last to heaven’s gate.
Did you imagine her entry
to God's heavenly, lasting life?
Could you see the guarding sentry
as the joy in heaven was rife?
She left behind no next of kin,
no faithful fans or floodlit stage.
The only ones who mourned for her
were a few friends of ripened age.
If no one recalls her passage,
does that mean she did not exist?
When the reaper sends his carriage,
do our thoughts of loved ones desist?
More autumns came and winters too
remaining leaves withered and fell
since her soul rose into the blue.
Is there no more story to tell?
I thank Paul for joining me in this collaboration and apologize for taking so long to post it. As some of you know, my house flooded and I've been dealing with health issues as well.
A coloratura rises
from the suede-edged shape
as the gnarled grande dame
comes to light.. a vision
draped in sweeping evergreen
and a pale cape of kidskin haze -
a beguiling soprano in soft-
focus fools the guileless sunrise
with a diva’s deception --
for in the vaporous golden hour
she can still be breathtaking
the age of change
is beclouded - softened
in gray’s cashmere atmosphere
where blending and bending of
over-ripened perceptions
are smoothed with a dewy smudge..
roughened boughs
and litter-fall is obscured --
unless, you get up close
harsh lines become artfully coy
in the bosom of the pearl mist;
a bedimmed dreamy blur of
Impressionism masks her reality
with the sleight of hand and a mockingbird’s aria
Susan Ashley
March 8, 2020
~ Third Place ~
Premiere Contest: Brian Strand Contest No 1183
Sponsor: Brian Strand
N/A
Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 6
Sponsor: Mark Toney
*coloratura: runs, trills, and other florid decorations in vocal music.
A lyric soprano of high range who specializes in such music*
*aria: an elaborate melody sung solo*
Have You Ever
Stood in a field of ripened gold grain
Lifted your face to be kissed by the rain
Felt in your heart the anguish of pain?
*
Held someone's hand in their hour of sorrow
Brought a new dream to the edge of tomorrow
Leaned on a friend finding strength to borrow?
*
Spent a sweet moment with a child at play
Given a home to a lost lonely stray
Found faces in clouds as they float away?
*
Held a lost moment hidden in time
Sucked on the juice of a tree ripened lime
Whispered a word in transcendant rhyme?
*
Descend in the depths and found yourself lost
Awakend with wonder to windowpane frost
Swallowed a slight despite the high cost?
*
Danced in the wind with a rose in your hair
Cried all alone with no one to care
Hoped for tomorrow with all you can share?
*
These are the moments that make life worthwhile
Knowing that living shares joy with the trial
And so much is solved when a face wears a smile.
Long gone are the golden
Dusty days!
Where once, like Blazons
On Armorial Shields,
The gathered bronze sheaths
stood -
Cut through at the stalk...
Raised from time honoured
swathes.
Burnished like brushed copper
By high summers slanted rays:
That were sliced so thinly
From the thickening air,
As they brightly
Caught the hot glare,
From the grass mowers blades.
For the singing scythes,
Once wielded so ably
By strong, capable arms,
Are standing abandoned and
Forsaken:
Blunted, left rusting,
Languishing alone
In damp, dilapidated barns.
Now their songs are forgotten -
Lost within a woeful winds
lament!
Blown far out
From the green meadows;
Separated from their verses
Once sung so heartily
With purposeful,
Lusty, well practiced intent.
So think you all well,
Next time you pause
Your drawn eye,
Upon Englands rich harvests
Of ripened barley,
Yellow wheat, and stiff rye...
To dwell on the lost seasons
With melancholy tears...
And think of the old reaper
Who cuts back at the years!
He wonders
at the aphrodisiac of her jasmine air
stirring the breeze of his being
heady in the breathy mood of her moon garden
amidst stargazer’s pink whispers
and he wishes
that his jonquil heart
be quenched by her sweet drink -
as he longs to sip sun-ripened nectar
from the calla of her wild plum dreams
Susan Ashley
July 4, 2018
~ Second Place ~
Contest: Any Poem You Want To Write 180 Words Or Less
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
~ Ninth Place ~
Contest: Premiere No. 160
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Poet's notes:
* the Jonquil flower represents desire, especially, the reciprocation of one's feelings of desire and love back in return*
*the Calla Lily represents magnificent feminine beauty and delicacy*
*the Wild Plum represents feminine youthfulness. Also, it represents sweet anticipation of the promise of romance one has waited for*
women of dusk and dawn
who love to feast on their senses
in a banquet ripened by love and courage,
chilled to last till the moonlight
bequeaths more hours for stories
about earth's flesh...
oh, let the first drone of music
praise the female spirit voluptuous
as hips sashay in gaiety wildly wet,
empresses hunting for the eyes of god in men
softly flowing in veils of mystery
that hover in the fragrance
housed in chambers of rich legends
and reality: taste their tears,
cuddle the apples of fertile breasts…
yet no one can touch their essence
or own life’s primeval wombs;
women are women like their children
defying any explanation.
Contest of Chantelle Anne Cooke Favorite Free Verse
2/4//2019 Repost
Within Passion's Dream
A Collaboration with Michael P. Clarke (Vladislav Raven)
Within Passion's Dream I hold you close beside the Ocean of Love.
I behold God's heavenly stars and they hold not the beauty of your temple.
You are the glory in my every thought and dream,
let me taste of your divine lips and love shall flow.
Come dance with me through love's divinity;
oh beauty of my heaven your love does sing.
You are all my tomorrows wrapped in a beauteous dream,
come my beloved in the love we share Within Passion's Dream.
Within Passion’s Dream, you are eternally mine,
as we nestle in the ardent arms of an orange-adorned full moon.
Let me enrapture you with the warmth of my legs and breasts,
entwining you in my vines, drinking deeply from the goblet of love.
Electrified by your sensuous caresses that awaken all my senses,
my beloved, your essence seeps into the pores of my very soul.
Whirling in ecstasy from the sweetness of honeydew kisses,
we twinkle through a star-studded Milky Way Within Passion’s Dream.
Within Passion's Dream I am enraptured by our love,
your temple joining with mine in a passion primal in its bearing.
Let stardust caress us as in love's magic we dwell,
your lips on mine and divinity's song is sung.
I lose myself in the eyes of an angel's face,
swimming deep within memories vision.
One heart, one soul, paradise our aim,
I find your eternal beauty ever before me Within Passion's Dream.
Within Passion’s Dream, I behold the wonder that is you,
sprinkling sunbeams and moonbeams showering me with your love.
Bodies and souls merging, we waltz to melodies
of a celestial symphony divinely orchestrated.
Like juicy golden grapes on a ripened vine,
unabashedly spurting their syrupy sweet wine,
tender tendrils of our love do gently unfold and
our hearts chime in rhapsodic harmony Within Passion’s Dream.
01-18-2017
Poem of the Day - 01-20-2017
Note: Mike wrote the 1st and 3rd stanzas, while I wrote the 2nd and 4th stanzas.
Thank you my friend, Mike for inviting me to collaborate with you on this piece, for your wonderful inspiration, and making it easy for me!
REAPING AND RELISHING SAPODILLA PLUMS
Reaching out towards freshness all ripened,
Holding onto huge branches hovering high,
Not bothered about tan getting deepened,
I hand pluck lush naseberries straight from the sky;
Savouring sweetness with a satisfied sigh.
2nd August, 2017
While finding myself in season’s twilight
I see parts of life crumble amid grime of ruins,
As a declining mind wanders to balance
Gratified triumphs and numerous offenses.
That from an era’s DNA, I search my own history
Sorting out the will of earthly fate, to pinpoint
The wake of milestones... the numbness of lies.
How can I redeem the what ifs?
Accepting my fragility held by a few strands
Of cycles’ thinning yarns, my essence
Spins up down through countless revelries:
Then to gaze at the most lustrous star
Where a thousand vestiges imprint faces,
Even melodies which bear laughable chatters.
How fondly old can I really get!…
And yet, yet, as nightfall grabs
One more petal falling… there is something
glorious about ripened age--- after all.
5/09/2019
The Smile At The Foot Of The Ladder
For craig cornish
Once more you appear, crossing my threshold
after breaking the lock to memory's door.
Your illusion enters without bothering to knock,
stepping into my room as a wavering shadow.
You breach the barrier of cries and goodbyes,
escaping from the grave where lost love slept.
I wept long ago and swore an oath to my heart,
never would I allow you in, as a lover or friend.
Tell me, against your invasion, how do I defend?
How can I restrain you from entering my thoughts,
and if I knew, would you still haunt my dreams?
Through eyes blurred by streams of warm tears,
would you leer as a voyeur, lurking at my window?
Why do you channel the deep furrows of my soul,
gazing at me with mournful eyes blackened by kohl?
I've given up pretending that you're not here.
Here, in the chamber where we were never apart.
Please leave me in peace if you once held me dear.
On velvet nights when the moon is fully ripened,
I'm still drawn to you like the magnetism of her pull.
I tremble each time my lips whisper your name.
With each intrusion, I am powerless to defend myself,
for my heart wears no armor, my door has no sentry.
Vulnerable mortals such as I, must bear this burden
when a wraith from an erstwhile love desires entry
October 14, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 17 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Originally posted in May of 2018