Best Rondeau Poems

The Hands of Time


The hands of time stand eerie still
Where hearts chamber a cagey chill,
And whispers warn of shadows deep
With eyes that strain as shower’s...

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Travel light, my dear; softly go
beyond the night’s each black shadow
to another plane. Out of sight
exists a realm of such delight
you may find relief from...

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Hidden beauty I know can dwell
within a body worn and frail.
I think of one who had been doled
great miseries, so once grown old,
his body seemed...

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The darkness at noon -  We’ve been led
to walk with a blossoming dread
through streets, as if we have no will,
and all the world is...

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His day had come, and so He went and prayed.
The woes of all mankind upon him weighed.
His brethren slept; He knew what would befall.
His enemies...

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In the library, at last I am freed
from others’ wishes for what I should read.
Book after book I most gladly peruse
with all these free hours...

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I want to feel my whole world burst,
see scintillating stars dispersed
across a vast unsullied sky
the sapphire blue of my mind’s eye
when life was fresh and...

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In temporal shades of pastel hue
abides a subject on debut.
Upon his brow the pencil bled,
sketching life through words unsaid,
etching strife through hints of blue.

I softly...

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Memories of the sea wash over me
on days when clouds are drifting cottony
above my head through placid azure sky.
Such images flit like a butterfly
across my...

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Words left unsaid as teardrops fell
 The price of love, their hearts would tell
 And so they parted, love took flight
 And left their hearts...

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  "Wearied Wanderlust"

upon a gilded meadow glows a bottle of tender tears
scattered ashes burnt and laden carpeting of stone
ravished emotions turbulent feasting on flesh...

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As cold winds blow this time of year,
the limbs are bare, the winter’s here;
a frigid frost hangs in the air.
With season’s change we’re well aware
that...

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Shine forth His light, dispel the night!
Spread love that's true, let hope glow bright,
May your words be seasoned with grace!
Looking up to Christ, run your...

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In still the night, the beaks slumber.
The weary wings, of great number,
In lightest twitch, upon the dark
Etching on oak, wait for dawn’s hark.
In common sleep...

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With poetry, I want to seize
all of my opportunities
to pen the things I want to say
in a more deliberate way,
but time is like a summer...

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