Best Robed Poems
Mission of the Yellow Songbird
A long highway road stretched its legs before me,
In a place where tumble weeds were conceived,
December evening chasing daylight back to morning
Dusk robed in faded colors starving out the sunshine
Miles put themselves between me and home
With thickets of brier brambles cradled between north and south
Alive with vesper choruses of tiny songbirds.
A gentle tap on my front fender
Roused me from hypnotic highway stupor like popping thunder
I shuddered deeply as possibilities shook my soul;
Maybe one of those gigantic bugs – maybe? Maybe?
But when I stopped my heart seized to solve the mystery
A tiny yellow songbird plastered to my grill wings still open to flight.
Gentle spirit of eternal compassion touched, caressed, my wailing sorrow
Then guided me to a desert tree with perfect boughs,
That welcomed songs of matin mornings from a tiny bird,
To lay to rest God's tiny messenger beneath his favorite tree
Songbird with perfect pitch would no longer sing praise into Heaven's face.
Called to the road again, tears raced down my cheeks
As numb miles raced by with a litany of why in each drop
Time came to take a mountain road from fertile valley to foggy ocean crest -
Screaming round a sharp curve to a screeching stop
Accident, I thought, of two cars only six cars ahead of me –
No ordinary scene -two burned out fiery shells one atop the other!
Realization, like a candle in the darkness, sent out sharp beams
I would have been in that accident had not a precious songbird
Given me a second chance to sing in ministry and embrace this grief;
In the deepest part of my grieving heart, I know our precious God
Gathered to his heart the mission of this tiniest crushed warrior
Who now sings beneath God’s window in the eternal day.
5-17-22
Contest: Divine Intervention
Sponsor: Chantal Anne Cooke
12/14/22
Contest: Poetry Marathon Mile 23
Sponsor: Mark Toney
30 Lines of a 30 Line Limit
Angel Bones
Two Hundred fifteen angels (Narration by an elder)
each buried in a shallow grave
The monsters said the Angels were savages
that they were there to save
Each little heartbeat
cries up from the earth
“Come seek out our answers. (Narration by child)
please prove that we have worth”
“Those who survived us
have tried to be our voice.
Why have they been silenced?
Please listen it’s a choice.”
“Return us to our families,
so they can beat the drum.
Then our spirits will find peace,
in the place that we are from.”
“The world must know the truth,
the Government didn’t know best.
They fed us to pale monsters,
we were cursed instead of blessed.”
“Yes cruel pale faced monsters,
robed in uniforms of black.
Pretended to be Godly,
while perpetrating their attack.”
“Touching our little bodies,
telling us we were blind.
Deriving their cruel cruel pleasures,
monsters of a different kind.”
“The school was their playground,
these monsters had their way.
Each time we tried to speak,
there was a price to pay.”
(Drum beats)
thump thump, thump thump,
Thump thump, thump thump
Thump thump, thump thump
(Native elders singing)
The bones of our innocent Angels (Narration by Elder)
that they buried beneath the ground.
Their spirits speak in unison
Without emitting a single sound
Each little heartbeat
Cries up from the earth
“Come seek out our answers, (Narration by child)
please prove that we have worth.”
The Time of the Summer Solstice
Drums pulsing solemnly presage the break of dawn,
bonfires ablaze dot this auspicious June morn.
On the shores of Albion, Druid priests converge,
as Earth, Sea, and Sky do mystically merge.
A circle of white-robed diviners and bards all a-chant,
amidst sacred oak and holly, as their hazel wands enchant.
The Dawn Ceremony begins the Summer Solstice,
awaiting the Sun’s majestic rise from the eastern abyss.
Rapidly waning is the dark of Spirit Night,
as the Sun God waits to unleash his most brilliant light.
Proudly the Summer King wears his crown at Alban Hefin;
but at Alban Arthan, he relinquishes it to his Dark Twin.
The Wheel of the Year relentlessly turns,
as each season ever changes and thus returns.
An eternal cycle of life, death, and rebirth,
it manifests the wonder of nature and Mother Earth.
Drums pulsing solemnly presage the break of dawn,
bonfires ablaze dot this auspicious June morn.
On the shores of Albion, Druid priests converge,
as Earth, Sea, and Sky do mystically merge.
05-26-2016
Contest: Summer Solstice
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Placement: 3rd
Notes:
Alban Hefin – the time of the Summer Solstice, The Light of the shore, by June 21st or 22nd. Light is at its maximum, and this is the time of the longest day. Starting at midnight on the eve of the Solstice, a vigil is held through the short night around the Solstice fire.
The Dawn Ceremony - marks the time of the sun's rising on this his most powerful day.
Dark Twin - the Sun-king is called the Holly King or Dark Successor (Tanist) in the Druid Calendar who reigns during the waning light of the year, until winter solstice.
Alban Arthan – the time of the Winter Solstice, called in the Druid tradition Alban Arthan or the Light of Arthur. This is the time of death and rebirth.
The Wheel of the Year – an annual cycle of seasonal festivals observed by the Druids and many pagans. It consists of four or eight solstices and equinoxes.
Spirit Night - The Summer Solstice was one of the three Spirit Nights of the year, the other two being Beltane and Samhain.
When dreamtime leads me to a mystic land
I saunter quietly ... climbing a hill,
For the kingdom of fairies and elves reigns
With gossamer wings and jewels in their hair.
A sapphire castle laps with ambient winds
Robed in diamante from godly hands.
Sweet mist of air and silver voices echo
Through quivering rock pools of hawthorns green.
This lofty place thrills bright imaginings
Upon glittered sands like tiers of limestone,
Hard marbles and finely-polished pebbles
Lie dotted through rainbow of stardust ,untold.
Tasseled wands bestow spells on the courtyard
Beguiling my eye with pixie- waltz steps
Until, at the height of enchanted awe
Fairy Queen lends magic, then fades in dreams!
Second Chance # 3 Contest of Broken Wings
Posted 4/21/2016
Judging Finalized 4/27/2016
A pregnant lass with eyes of glass had never learned to cope;
once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp’ry slope.
She fled the curse of worlds perverse by shooting shots of dope,
and stalked discreet’ Asylum Street her daily horoscope.
The stray was struck by passing truck which was her only hope.
Well, Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
“The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire
(born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire)
for no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
though faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood are spattered on the spire;
though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.”
Though broken there, she’s fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she’s dead, the rumours spread: her age? a sweet 16,
with child, unwed, her soul stained red, her body so unclean.
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
in limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
and all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.
Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that’s seldom trod
“In pious role, God bless my soul”, was mouthed with mitred nod,
(the twisted grin seemed dark and thin behind the robed façade).
“She’ll burn in hell with sulphur smell”, spat Priest and man of god.
Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl’s attire,
but Banjo Boy, he’s playing coy while chanting in the choir:
“The clueless search within the church to find what they desire,
but near the nave or gravelled grave, there is no Rectifier.”
And when he’s through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.
She was with me, untouchable, intangible, and yet
she caressed me with her breath in an intimate way
on a balmy night in April, I shall never forget.
Patiently, I waited for shadowed clouds to fade away.
Then, I watched her gracefully moved among the stars,
a flawless goddess in chiffon, her face alabaster pale.
In resplendent light she was robed, her majesty divined.
As twilight's sapphire haze deepens on the fringe of night,
she captures my gaze with a mesmerizing hold.
At this paradisial moment, and in this Edenic place,
I am loved and loved in return with total devotion.
Able, for the first time to feel this depth of emotion,
this piety that I've never been able to express,
I confess this to the beauty hovering above me,
and in her illuminated celestial glory, she smiles.
To search for her soft glow each evening, I am fated.
On the edge
of the evacuation zone
Miyuki holds her daughter
tip-toeing in pink sneakers
her small hands fragile
blossoms opening
to the man with the beeping wand
They were outside in the karesansui
washing and raking
rocks, when the school
heaved, convulsed
then pressed into silence
one-hundred-and-seven
voices rising inside
So now they wait with strangers
in ordered lines of sorrow
for bread and drinking water
as an adolescent, eyes downcast
sees the small pink laces and
offers up his only ration
of precious onigiri
Hooded and white masked they walk
three days and bed-less nights toward
Ishinomaki by the ocean
to family, friends, and home forever
transformed
The landscape jumbles unfamiliar
with plastic wreckage
and automobiles
detritus flooded in a field
where Japonica once grew
while moon-suited men
and women gather
albums for the living
And after sunset Miyuki moves
her little girl away
from a white-taped blue-bagged
lifeless form
toward the humming black-robed Monk, his
prayers for light
and workers burned
exposed to radiation ten
thousand times too high
And in the shadows one old man kneels
beside a fetid pool and scoops
rice to carry back to neighbours
moved to higher ground, un-opens
one last bottled spirit
bows his head and offers
Miyuki and her first and only
everything he has
At last they reach the shelter’s glow
beneath the starless robe of night
not used to wearing
shoes indoors
Miyuki helps her daughter fold
sheets of painful news into
an origami box to hold
her last and only pair
And in the morning as they face
the stretch of road for home
to unknown love and losses there
they turn and gaze toward the east
awaiting still
spring’s warming breeze
to rise with brilliant red once more
new light of wondrous dawn
~~~~~~~~~
'karesansui' is a Japanese rock garden or 'dry landscape'. Rocks are often washed.
'onigiri' is the emergency rice being distributed to survivors in Japan.
'Japonica' is a type of (short-grained) Japanese rice.
for Debbie Guzzie's contest, 'Tribute to Japan'
by ~Soulfire~
( This poem is about the ' Killing Fields' of Cambodia, 1975-79, where as many as 2 million people were murdered by the communist Khmer Rouge. I taught in Phnom-Penh from '73-74, and never met a people I liked more.)
They haunt me still,
the brown children laughing, always laughing,
the women voluptuous, languid,
their movement almost an invitation....
Even the traffic policeman:
crisp, clean, proud in uniform,
moving with ballerina grace
as hordes of cyclos and mopeds
and the occasional automobile
pirouette endlessly about him,
impatient bees made quiescent
by surreal beauty of white-gloved arms
cutting through thick tropical air....
Everywhere was grace, gentleness:
temples incandescent at dawn,
with ant trails of orange-robed monks
cradling their pot-belly begging bowls,
the patient women standing by the road
to lump rice into the begging bowls,
the monks always staring blankly ahead
as the women bowed low in reverence,
grateful their gift of life was taken....
And oh, how wondrous it was:
an accident in the street, yet no anger,
no bile--forgiveness, felt before thought,
thought before uttered....
How could such a people murder?
No, not murder-- slaughter!
Their mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles,
teachers, priests, friends and children too.
Change temples of peace into charnel-houses?
Schools of knowledge into abattoirs?
They photographed every butchered lamb,
like the devil's children on holiday,
and decorated the classroom walls,
a show-and-tell of horror and despair.
Why? Why?--
Why such pain on
such a gentle people?
Why did God hide His face
while the world turned its back?
Forty,
forty,
forty
years
and still...
still they haunt me.
Porcelain doll hangs on shadows and wings
Of twilight’s frame. Guarding an autumn child,
The toy lightens ink of stenciled dusk
As her enamel fingers gleam like candles...
Yellow the stars where she comes from
robed in fine lace . Through heaven’s print
An angel in disguise bestows love, as
Porcelain doll hangs on shadows and wings
Contest 236 Max 16 Lines
A sanctuary waits for me
Beside a woodland stream;
Creatures chatter, beast and bird,
Dithering among the trees,
Engaged in nature’s repartee.
Fungi, moss, and flower
Gather in this shady, holy space,
Habitat of happy innocence,
Idyllic, secret forest glade.
Just let me linger in the quiet,
Kneel beneath the trees,
Listen to the lessons
Majestic nature speaks to me.
Noble trunks stretch upward,
Outward toward the sky,
Praising arms, uplifted, robed in
Queenly dress of leafy light.
Restorative peacefulness
Sweeps in sweet release,
Time’s tenacious grip relaxing,
Undisturbed, worldly discords cease.
Visitant I am within this wood,
Wistful, earthbound worshipper,
Xenophile, lover of heaven,
Yearning to go home.
Zion calls from where I bow.
May 22, 2022
With wistful EYES I watched him RISE; the dawning sun
Aloft, he TREAD, golden wings SPREAD, and day had begun
Above the GLADE, he was robed in a SHADE of palest pink
I wrote a RHYME before the drying TIME of my indigo ink
My eyes SQUINTED to skies blue TINTED, I watched him soar
Eager to ABSORB the heat of the ORB, he warmed every pore
With my need SATED, I was ELATED and stood quietly in place
Cheeks of peach BLUSH, the sun's BRUSH painted on my face
Then he DISAPPEARED, and as I FEARED, grey clouds hovered
I was FILLED with remorse, and CHILLED once he was covered
I called to the WIND and he THINNED the dark overcast skies
So I could BEHOLD the sun of GOLD before tears filled my eyes
Call it a WHIM, but I must search for HIM throughout the day
Across MEADOWS, I live in SHADOWS; my life in sad disarray
until his vibrant LIGHT is within my SIGHT, I dwell in sadness
But when his rays BEAM at me, I SEEM suffused with gladness
As twilight BLOOMED, I was CONSUMED with apprehension
I could not PREVENT the sun's DESCENT nor quell my tension
Tonight I BELIEVE I will GRIEVE until he rises again at dawn
When I will GREET his SWEET warmth, shining upon my lawn.
I cannot EXPLAIN the depth of PAIN I feel when he is asleep
It's a VAGUE mystery; but a PLAGUE that causes me to weep
I CONFESSED that I'm OBSESSED; under a spell or incantation
Tell me FRIEND, do I DEFEND or END my sunlight infatuation
November 7, 2020
Joseph May's In Rhymes Sublime Contest
You will remove the roadblocks that block my paths each day
You will not hamper what I do to succeed in my own way
You will not play your high pitched notes within my deafened ears
And take your hands from off my mind, and stop it with your fears
You will stop harassing me because I belong to Him
You will remove your minions now who paint the shadows grim
You will realize I have power that goes beyond this realm
He who shared the victory is stationed at the helm
You cannot overcome Him or steal me from His Father
You do not have the power to take my soul, don't bother
You will listen to my orders and heed the words I say
I know my place within the kingdom and don't get in my way
You will stop it with the H.A.A.R.P. toy and taking people down
And cease from tearing up the homes in neighborhoods and towns
And halt your little puppet show in Washington, DC
And get your hand now off this nation's blood bought liberty
You better realize you're in for a fight, a fight you will not win
I've been bought with sinless blood, by a King who had no sin
He's the one you came against and failed to win His throne
But that belongs to no one else except the Cornerstone
You will stop your taunting that amounts to nothing good
And leave this house and take your bones that wear that dark robed hood
Ever since the dawn of time you’ve constantly deceived
But I know Him whom I’ve believed so consider yourself relieved
June 7, 2013
Autumn’s nakedness
becomes robed in virgin snow
footprints prove there’s life,
yet the secrets of springtime
in hibernation till birth.
Brian Strand Formal poetry contest
12/3/2022
This sunset of peach crowns the bay, aglow
While Manila lies in tropical bliss
This region bustling with tunes as nights flow
Along street cafes where friends reminisce.
The jam of guitars floods a moonlit trail
Dizzy where tangy hyacinths delight…
Folks prancing on rhumba beats to unveil
My city agleam... near a harbor bright.
Modern yet quaint, this scene is my life’s art
Afloat like an isle of eclectic flair,
Robed in temples,parks of inner child’s heart
For this dwelling charms with beauty to share.
In my abode of pearled Oriental grains,
Manila pulsates in festive refrains.
Where Are You From Contest
Sponsor: Joseph Soper
* Manila ( Philippines)
Bright trees in May time , of evergreen lace,
Cuddle larks perched above on twigs , winging
Draped with hued flora all over the place
Each bud, each petal , the anthem of spring.
Feathery the elm robed in velvet bloom,
Gone is Old Jack Winter’s glacial soak
Heralding new cycle’s minty perfume
Inside our garden, now verdant the oak.
Joyful tots with kites rush out to the lane,
Kicking their heels for giggly, cheery flight
Laughter aglow through sweet birdsong’s refrain
Mingled with whirling of bees…such pure delight!
Nothing but sheen lifts the maple , to rise
Offering a burst of charm wrapped in bliss;
Playful the folks that view this morn’s surprise
Quick yet gentle are dreams from springtime’s kiss!
.......................
9.12.2016 Rhyme: abab
Alphabet Soup Contest
Sponsor: Kim Merrryman