Best Roosts Poems
Trudging under frozen starlit skies
Against stiff Winters bitter blowes...
When ambling up past frosted trees
From the wooded valley down below.
As stepping into a clearing glade,
Surround ragged drifts of thinning snow,
Once Summers haze - long since forbade,
Now pale Moon beams all aglow.
For within this realm of Twilight,
Perched high up in a bush,
Snugly within his feathered form
Roosts a warbled Darkling Thrush.
Stirred from his ruffled thoughts...
Dulcet voice lifts upon still night:
With euphonious notes so sweetly sung -
Poured forth in harmonious delight!
Oh tawny Throstle, nemesis of
Nightingales,
Did Heavens Choirs ever sound so sweet?
Your scrawny throat of melodious rails -
That kept my lover from her feet!
Categories:
roosts, bird,
Form:
Rhyme
Blue sky, glorious golden sunshine
Elements every farmer needs.
With crops rippling in the breeze
Combine harvesters whirl into action
See them steadfastly snaking along the fields
I can hear their dull drone from morning to night
Farmhands work tirelessly to gather the harvest
Making hay whilst the sun shines
Every second of the day is so precious
Until the final rays of the red sunset fade
Only then the farmer leaves and can rest
Harvest moon rapidly rises
Silhouetted in the majestic oak tree
A barn owl roosts silently in the quiet of night
Nature Poem – Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
08~02~15
Categories:
roosts, autumn, nature,
Form:
Free verse
A brindled mountain capped with snow,
hosts paradise in its shadow.
And moss clings to the virgin rock
on ancient roosts where seabirds flock.
White waters teach Brooks how to sing
with the tinkling pitch bubbles bring.
And chuckle with a gurgling sound,
laughing out loud where rocks abound.
Gushing rivulets, spray, and twist,
morphing into a sparkling mist.
And wildflowers, living jewels,
are mirrored in reflecting pools.
Light and dark play with skittish leaves,
chasing applause; each breeze receives.
And subtle odors scent the air
with a fragrance beyond compare.
In this secluded place on Earth,
Serenity reveals its worth.
For utopia resides here,
tranquil, with no humans to fear.
Categories:
roosts, beautiful, environment, imagery, imagination,
Form:
Rhyme
Like attracts like, or so they say
solitary, the sentinel stood
brown and brittle, lifeless
Its cracked surface home to many
small unfriendly, burrowing, things
corpse companions...
A raven roosts
in its pitch less, upturned arms
undeterred by the sharpness of needles
long lost to the memory
of evergreen winter,
untouched by Persephone’s bloom.
Death holds sway here.
The once noble pine
killed by the acid reign of man,
now serves only the tricksters,
as he flies between worlds.
Categories:
roosts, allegory, animals, caregiving, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
I watch feather light snowflakes float down to the ground
they land so delicately; they hardly make any sound
by evening a blanket of wintry white is all around
The weather forecast confirms that winter is finally here
I see children having fun, I hear them whoop and cheer;
they are wrapped up snug and warm in their winter gear
making giant snowmen with the first snow of the year.
Spruce trees have a frosting of wonderful winter white
Nature’s beauty surrounds us it is a glorious sight
a robin lands upon a twig, it brings me such delight
as it roosts for a while then suddenly takes flight.
Deep soft snow has fallen and people must take care
We should visit elderly neighbours and should be aware
that some can’t get to shops so provisions we must share
and we can do their shopping as they rest in their armchair.
The temperature has dropped I can feel its bitter chill
Little children do not mind as they play out on the hill
they whizz on their toboggans it gives them such a thrill
as I observe them having such fun from my windowsill
I watch feather light snowflakes float down to the ground
Rhyme time III contest
Sponsored by Laura Loo
12/25/17
Categories:
roosts, care, children, fun, snow,
Form:
Rhyme
As dawn it roosts, to the early lids of my opened eyes,
Never ever has been a happy feeling pleasant comprise.
Quinquennium back I can clearly remember,
The morning’s plea scalds my thoughts like burning ember.
My blanket festooned body, on the bed it stirs & moves,
The immensity of my drumming head, ever hopes it improves.
Rise as I to the early morn’s sunshine,
Try to smile and reminiscent, it’s surely futile to whine.
And so I sooth my dreary mind,
Impel the mind to elude dismal thoughts & unwind.
Alas! I’m timorous, those dull & dismal thoughts befall,
My mind ,now I know I need to overhaul.
To edify my mind I have to seek,
Muse must I, think ponder reflect every day of the week.
Tall happy positive thoughts I must now contemplate,
For these are those that will bring me peace and joy once they ruminate.
When I close my eyes to tardy nites,
Am gonna be happy at morn the thought itself excites.
A long dark shadow of doubt it always looms,
It’s foggy dawn and my dull thoughts they resume.
From dawn to dusk I carry on a low,
Pessimistic spirits, they make me slow.
Explicit thoughts are sought desired,
A sound body and mind are always admired.
Forlorn, behold it in my mind’s eyes,
Set tone the work ambience my passions cries,
Throttled are my dreams, dismayed are my desire,
And Brutus knife it’s uncouth edge stabs the back in holy attire.
In a Quinquennium span, and time it ran,
But my spirit at first light is like a weary man,
Now I cognize to him his destiny a bloom,
And to me my destiny untwined from his , so not to doom.
Must alter my retort to suit me fine,
And joyous days will transcend me to cloud nine.
Aghast I am for I have lost,
The crusade within me and am weary exhaust.
Forlorn I am to the day’s time,
Often mull are they my thoughts, that are all slime.
Forlorn I am to the nite’s time,
I know it’s time to clean up my heart’s grime.
Forlorn it will be till I inversely think,
From insanity, I’m now on its brink.
Forlorn ,I want to say good bye,
For many eons before I die.
Categories:
roosts, confusion, depression, fear, happy,
Form:
Rhyme
With hops, pecks and scattered flights
Eating unlucky bugs and earliest worms
Bright blue eggs holding future roosts
Nests made with symetrical intricacies
Guarded postures showing orange chests
Avian state symbols in Wisconsin trees
Categories:
roosts, animals, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Where sets the sun again
far from the din of Port of Spain
shadows fall on the plain.
And on that plain over I strode
when the wind its trees winnowed
up the old Eastern Main Road
Now in woodland D’abadie
in this land’s sport of kings I see
a ravage of a foregone glory.
Hitherto as a child and as a man
its rich memories my lifetime span
to long before its end began.
Where yon the stable gate
a man and his thoughts ruminate
upon his own mortal estate.
Verily I had hoped in years past
those trees on which my eyes cast
might live on and me outlast.
Oft I remember picking fruit
and standing on a big gnarly root
as an iguana up would shoot.
When back on sunrise trail I’d see
horse ‘n rider under a samaan tree
in saddlecloth and saddlery.
I miss on a hot wind’s blow
the rising pan and beating calypso
echo over Rancho Caballero.
When the sun blazed a big red sky
and roosts in the night to you and I
sung a tropic island lullaby.
In late porch light shimmer
the big sky grew dim and dimmer
and belfry trees did glimmer.
But now the trees make no sound
for none on this land can be found
but the felled on the ground.
Where stood a mare or cow
in the shade of a silk cotton bough
dozers now dig and plough.
It’s hard to watch and truly sad
to watch disappear things we had
once upon a time in Trinidad.
There is a price and a cost
alas of all the trees cut and tossed
and to this land forever lost.
But still yet remains in D’abadie
planted seeds of life and ancestry
in the roots of a family tree!
Written: January 2018
Categories:
roosts, home,
Form:
Rhyme
Skylark roosts in oak
Singing through the smoke
Of misty clouds passing by
Music of the dawn
Shared with spotted fawn
Pleasures that delight the eye
Skylark flies above
Crooning about love
Soaring through the gloomy morn
Sunrise beckons eyes
Twinkling at the guise
While the bird whines of a warn
Written on August 4th, 2014
FOR: The Alouetee Updated on 26-7-14 - Poetry Contest
Categories:
roosts, bird, sky,
Form:
Verse
serene turns to bloody
lullaby whipped to scream
if you've ever watched
your mother die
you'll know what i mean
goodtimes are soon forgotten
friends just drift away
death roosts in the brain forever
i guess we're born that way
who is this diadem
that gives then steals away
puts birthstones in our garden
then swiftly cuts it all away
but its not for me to ask?
Categories:
roosts, angst, , Lullaby,
Form:
Rhyme
Little rock hooty owl
sits stoically poised
his roost, the computer tower
atop my desk.
Mr. C.W. Hoots is his name
though he never gives a hoot
least none that I can hear
but please, just call him "Hoots"
for this is what he prefers.
His eyebrows arch perpetually
in that usual scowl
that all good owls it seems
favor among their many faces.
Atop his perch he roosts
a starring contest between us
I will most assuredly lose
for those steely black eyes of his
get me every time.
Most oft times he seems so sad
perhaps a bit lonely too
I do believe that now is the time
to find this Mr. his Mrs.
for no one should be alone
and most assuredly not a pet rock.
Categories:
roosts, animals, fantasy, funny, imagination,
Form:
Imagism
that day*
two score and ten
business men in leisure suits,
grandmothers with grey handkerchiefed hair
and adolescents in gaudy glasses,
girls wearing bouffants and sweaters,
the boys maybe ducktails with Pomade
all wrinkling their faces in disbelief -
profound grief that it could be -
As the week ends on the blackest Friday
they watch stoic Jackie stand with Lyndon
as visions of Camelot dance out of their heads
the gritty grim speculation roosts
over a looong black-n-white weekend
of caissons and long drum rolls
and a belief that it'll never
be the same - really, it never was
© Goode Guy 2013-11-16
*1963-11-22
Categories:
roosts, confusion, crazy, death of
Form:
Epitaph
Thinking in the,
Absence of silence.
A droplet of ink,
Can make millions think
Thinking in the
Absence of this silence.
Silence is being answered,
From questions that have
Never asked?
It is silence,
You do get
Pearls of Wisdom
Thickens, be it said.
Don't plan on being helped,
For help has gone silent
When this book, sitting here
On the shelf, silenced.
Silences, be it that,
Standish one
Instead, be the laid-back one
Make some history.
I am writing his words,
Doing what he does.
Takes one last glance at,
The silence around the room
Silenced is his, he roosts.
Categories:
roosts, deep, imagery, journey, silence,
Form:
Free verse
On the Street
“Hey mister, you have something for me”?
Flat words emerge in the late autumn dusk from the
hollow where her heart had been before it froze to death.
Face full of life’s dings, her blank eyes expose deep pools
in which swim vile serpentine figures of her past.
Her upturned hand is mummified in a shroud scented with coffee, smoke and pee.
Around us, the annual migration of leaves from their roosts has begun.
Through their swirl on the streetscape, amber post-modernist splotches,
I perceive a troubled daughter; perhaps a failed but still loving mother.
She often prays for her untimely release from unmerited purgatory,
even as she thrashes about in her struggle to survive.
A man wearing my clothes, nausea etched on his face,
is already moving past the unwelcome intrusion on his ordered world.
I bid the man to stop.
He does; takes out some bills, lays them gently on her palm, smiles as he feels her rejoin the living and wishes her a good day;
his world less tidy but his walk a bit taller and he a bit wiser.
Categories:
roosts, life, autumn,
Form:
Free verse
Vulture; brazen carnivore, perched high atop the tree
waiting, just waiting, to swoop down for his opportunity
to pick the bones of something or someone he wishes dead
and all the while he roosts and waits for his daily bread.
Nasty black-eyed bird of prey, your ego is fat with bloat.
Hide your cause beneath your claws, on yourself you dote.
Stay on the highest branches of the timber where you judge
but cast your glance behind before another gives you a nudge.
How dare you look upon the ones who's intentions are good.
How I wish to cover your demeaning raven head with a hood.
You snicker and you sneer, but nothing of worth do you bear?
Sink your claws onto paper; let others judge you, if you dare.
Glare until you've had your fill. Cry foul if you will not abate.
No more will your dastardly disguised scorn upon me grate.
Caw out your tale, as did Poe, of the striking rights you defend.
You wanted the last bite of flesh; you got it. Now it's the end
Categories:
roosts, image,
Form:
Rhyme