Best Rondeau Poems
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 sorrow!
Lay your head on your pillow.
Sink into the Now. Tomorrow
comes soon enough, but for tonight
travel light!
Let the sweet magic start to flow -
angel wings sweeping over snow
it may seem, or a rainbow bright!
Close your eyes, Darling, and take flight!
In Dreamland you soon will be, so
travel light!
Written Jan. 15, 2017 for the Travel LIght Contest of Kai Michael Neumann
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 a dismal shell. .
Although he’d lived on earth his hell,
grown nearly crippled and unwell,
his inner fortitude was gold -
Hidden beauty!
Life’s many hardships could not quell
his positivity, nor fell
that strength - his fire against the cold -
a virtue that should be extolled!
In knowing him, I well could tell
hidden beauty.
For Skat's the Premiere Contest number 14 Poetry Contest
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 strangely still.
We walk - no word among us said.
We all had seen the sky grow red
before our sun, which warmed us, fled!
It only stayed with us until
the darkness at noon.
Our lungs can breathe. We have not bled,
but we are now the living dead,
for all around us grows a chill
upon the earth. Gone is the thrill
of light and life! We see instead
the darkness at noon!
For the 101 in a ROW contest -6 of PD, Linda!!!
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 conspired and did not stall.
A midnight kiss, and He would stand betrayed.
First seized, reviled, then stripped and flayed;
A scarlet robe on broken flesh then laid,
He bore the brutal cross and drank the gall.
His day had come.
A final breath. . . . the sacrifice was made.
The land then quaked. God’s sorrow was displayed.
The Son in linen. . . . on the earth a pall.
But in the sepulcher, His final call –
To conquer death! Man need not be afraid.
His day had come!
Submitted 3/12/23
for the Easter Poetry Contest of Regina McIntosh
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 I now get to use
finding books that I love; not just books that I need!
The books about science which teachers all feed
our minds with are making my eyes start to bleed!
I think I would even prefer reading news
in the library.
How much more enthralling are aisles that lead
to books of pure fiction! I will not heed
strict teachers, for romance and drama I choose.
Just see, I’ve already picked novels that ooze
suspense! Yes, indeed, I’m doing the deed
In the library.
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 untraversed.
I want to jump again. . . headfirst
into the ocean, be immersed
as passion’s billows multiply.
I want to feel!
Wake up, my heart! I WANT that thirst,
expect the best and not the worst,
to have my breath be stopped - to cry
for heartbreak’s sake - not stop to sigh
with rue that Fate can’t be reversed.
. . . I want to feel.
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 sweep,
The sands of time a formless fill.
Disenchanting dreams pave their will
Seconds follow a timely till,
While the dormant lie counting sheep,
The hands of time.
Where voices scratch a shackled shrill
The hours' harbor a haunting thrill,
And the minutes tear as they weep
Behind the veils the walls of sleep,
Moon in sight above the foothill
The hands of time.
#4
The Rondeau consists of 13 lines of 8 syllables plus 2 refrains
AABBA - AAB with refrain C - AABBA with Refrain C
July.25.2018
Rondeau Poetry
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Placed 1'st
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 mind; I seize them gratefully!
They bring with them sweet thoughts of family
and times of which I now can testify
flowed out like tides to leave me by and by. . .
memories of the sea.
How young we were in days so summery!
Through waves we leapt, expending energy.
Sated, we lay sunning on the beach to dry,
till sunlight - like our youth - sank down to die.
But I will keep for an eternity
memories of the sea.
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 to lonely nights
Each unable to break loves spell
Distant sound of the old church bell
Rang through seasons they knew so well
Winter to spring, summer shone bright
Words left unsaid
Each had a broken heart to sell
As fire within they tried to quell
Memories fade in Luna's light
Stars wished upon twinkle in sight
Love's distant star, flickers farewell
Words left unsaid
--
9/22/17
Contest Name: Form U- U pick 'em
Sponsor; Broken Wings
"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 and bone
filtering through fibers as escalating fears
harbor broken dreams evaporating in waning years
as visions petrified reside in somber tone
upon a gilded meadow glows
Life's chilling chant of haunted love still stalks
a tattered heart is wandering, wearied and all alone
swallowed a bittersweet taste of vacant cone
in endless patterns of desolate walks
upon a gilded meadow glows..
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 endless nights will soon appear.
We wrap ourselves to hide the fear
brought on by darkness ever near,
and hibernate within our lair…
as cold winds blow.
We dream of azure skies so clear;
the summer sun we so revere;
alas, ‘tis gone this weather fair.
We curse the darkness with a swear…
despising winter that we jeer…
as cold winds blow.
December 2, 2019
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 race,
Unfurl His undying love's might!
Light your candle’s love infinite,
Reflect the Son, good deeds highlight,
May others through you God embrace,
Shine forth His light!
Let your blaze all around ignite,
If not a lamp, be a flashlight,
May your radiance help them trace
God’s peace that nothing can replace,
Shine forth His light!
16th March 2022
For Anoucheka Gangabissoon's "Being a Light to others" contest
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 - sigh encumber.
The scented air, lilacs cumber
With bluebird-lull, silent slumber.
No need to coax the dormant bark,
In still the night.
Quickly, stars found in low number.
Red guitar pick awakes slumber.
Birds nestle under branches’ ark.
A cloudy mist sets off a spark.
Storm’s cajole - raindrops outnumber,
In still the night.
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 breeze. . .
It fans my passion; then it flees.
The obligations of each day
disrupt my muse; I can’t long stay
with poetry.
So when I can, I hope with ease
to write my thoughts and thus appease
my inner need with words to play
and rhyme sweet lines, and thus I pray
that my dear reader I may please
with poetry!
July 31, 2019
for the Rondeau Poetry Contest of charles messina
POTD
My hair falls free in wind and rain
And in sun, it flows free again.
No scarf nor cloth shall press my locks,
Nor bargain me in dismal frocks.
Around my neck I wear no chain.
I brush my hair, I snap my mane.
The banal bonnet I disdain.
I listen not where evil talks.
My hair falls free
Cast not a slur to Music's strain;
Music that lets my hair remain
In wild, symphonic flowing locks
That spurs remarks in envious talks.
My hair falls free in wind and rain.