Best Ruffle Poems


Premium Member I Wandered Lonely As a Boat

"I wandered lonely as a cloud."  William Wordsworth


I wandered lonely as a boat   
a shallow dingy left behind,  
alone in marsh of reeds remote  
my paint now faint so unrefined, 
my only hope the next high tide  
on brackish water then I’ll ride,

in aimless drift left up to fate  
the wind and wave upon the bay  
on rhythmic swells, I’ll grow sedate  
with naught to see through mists of gray…  
on ripples pale so soft so free
my destination out to sea; 

that distant place where lay the sun  
across the sunset waters west, 
the ambiance of cirrus spun  
to brush with colors every crest  
where I can bathe in shades so bold
of melting solar marigold.

Yet — let go I must of wishful dreams!  
My lifeline dispossessed I strayed  
and followed streams with other schemes —  
now lofty tide cannot be swayed,  
a rustic wreck in reeds reposed  
their wind-song whispers I’m imposed. 

There’s no escape their soldiers’ lance, 
the blades of green so tall and crisp,
with waves they undulate in dance  
and breezes ruffle tassels’ wisp,  
though swans find beauty mid the reeds 
—a wistful coward’s bitter weeds.  


Susan Ashley
January 14, 2023


~ Second Place ~
Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 25
Sponsor: Mark Toney


~ Poem Of The day ~
January 16, 2023


Poet’s note: this poem was inspired by, but not written for, the contest: “I Wandered Lonely As… Challenge”, sponsored by Natasha Scragg and judged on September 24, 2022. Thank you, Natasha, for the beautiful William Wordsworth quote and for the poetic inspiration.


Photo: gettyimages; Jay Fleming

Premium Member First Cherubic Chance

This road is snake-like except
for the crusty scales of an intestinal
late dusk. A boy treaded on the 
lane tracks lean and nomadic...
burnt shoulders grilled and toasted by
the sun, as if his coal skin sparked like
burning diamond weeds. In a flash, a tender
sorcery poured in my veins. There and then,
I longed to whisper a tune, play the tambourine or
partake of the loaf in my sack with him.
But he waited for paper clouds to ruffle his hair,
seemingly undisturbed by pilgrims like me 
holding unto holy relics and bones of night. The gauze
shirt as his frock winged with the silver winds,
windblown stroking my ebony tresses with a whisper
hushed by his delicate omnipresence.

In a dimly lit bus, sand wheezed tribal notes
moist on my eyelids uprooted by uncontained
temples of longing, now becoming thick
as woolen destiny. If only for a flicker of time,
his eyelids met mine so briefly... parting saline dust
of sacred, smiling gazes. I was inside a cell 
of a wombed bus. He was outside enlarged by a
hundred stars exploding dewdrops, inviting eternity.
For a fraction of silence, we met somewhere
between the fluorescent of our twin eyes. He, the angel 
first fondly encountered ; I, the dreamer ever bewildered…
I remember...I was five.  
                             
                           ---oooo----oooo---

(( P.D.'s " your Own Favorite Poem
by nette onclaud))

Premium Member Wind Lover

You kiss my face and I turn to trace
the tracks you left on the ground;
where have you walked and with whom have you talked
in all of your traveling round?

You utter a sigh and I am wondering why
you just cannot slow down and stay;
capricious you are like a burnt, falling star,
fickle, and quick to betray.

One day you are kind, your fury confined,
the next, you are hostile and wild;
today a soft breeze, lightly brushing the trees,
tomorrow, an unbroken child.

I open my arms to welcome your charms,
but like a ghost you vanish and go;
my emotions are torn by the strength of your storm,
your inexhaustible, volatile show.

I release you! Go scream and follow mad dreams,
go blow to the east and the west;
you try to impress then insanely digress
your plan to pursue an irrational quest.

The day you are through, tame the tempestuous shrew,
come back to my warm, loving heart;
ruffle my hair with the breath of a prayer,
until them, my dear, just depart.

Copyright, August 27, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson


Premium Member My Horse and Me

Down the gradient of meandering verdant valley
Draining down the dregs of the fading dusk
Beyond the threshold of the wild woods thick
My white stallion gallops in the emerald prairie.

Gossamer gloss sparkles on  the supple skin
Wisps of silky cloud swirl on the satin mane
Tossing on swinging waves of the south wind
The equine beauty canters out of my heart.

Bent blades of jade grass sway in sinuous ruffle
In sync with the rhythm of the bolting ivory grace 
The tilted hooves hover in the transfixed air
Panorama of motion captured in sublime silence.

Soaked in twilight glow we cross the last pasture
Floating on cascading spectrum of the setting sun
Beyond the glowing horizon of grandeur I see
The portal of heaven opens for my horse and me.

March 30, 2020
Contest : Completely Your Choice (42) Any Form Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand

Premium Member Until My Breath Wings Away

For life and love and summer breeze
                      For memories that fly with ease
For days with you that bring to mind
                     The greatest joy that I may find

For music that reflects the sun
                             For you and I to be as one 
For roses that perfume the air
                  as fingers ruffle through your hair

For thoughts of peace that fill my heart
                       For knowing we will never part
For saying I will always stay
                  Until my breath should wing away

Premium Member Upon Awakening

Upon Awakening

I see you morning,
curling down into
my front yard
like a big golden cat
come to play.

your paws ruffle the trees 
but they are only bones 
clacking noisily like 
.geese squabbling 
making your ears twitch.

you snuffle the dried beds 
wanting to rub against the lilacs
but they are sleeping within
the grey hard branches 
and will not answer you.

ah but there is a rose,
sheltered from rude November
by the cottage in a quiet spot,
one last hurrah as red as berries
you curl around it and purr.


The fur of Winter Sonata

Your memories quirk in the rays of 
    stagnant oceans,
    my yearning hangs on the tail of the dark 
    knight moon 
    as it illuminates the beats of your heart 
    racing through shadows.

    Let us dance all night long sneaking 
    through the rehearsal of a royal ball
    so echoes of your voice leave a trail 
    in my heart that my thoughts can't 
    comprehend. 

    I am lost in the awry beauty of your silence. 
    even when the waves haul your kiss from 
    its shores 
    the wind leads them back to me.
    our bodies are synchronously intertwined 
    with beautiful melodies.
    imaginations spread in wildfire, our 
    names written on the flames.
    squeeze me in a smile of scented bluebells
    soaked in the berries of your wrong I play 
    you right.

    In the winter sonata
    our eyes met in an estuary where our love 
    was sung by evening birds that flew 
    through the road of our sailing feet.

    What more can I ask of life when saturated 
    and adorned with tons of rare petals that 
    stick to me like galium aparine. 

    I could gaze at you through the spring of 
    snow and ruffle your hair until the tides ride 
    low.

    My love for you works 
    against the laws of 
    time, not fitting into a 
    scale we will soar like 
    the sirens of the deep blue sea. 

    My love, you have shown me ways to exist 
    amidst cheerful demons and I promise to 
    spend it all with you even in immortality. 

    Wrapped in a ballet of 
    cherry blossom, your 
    arms are like Fur in the 
    snow of winter sonata.

Premium Member Mind Versus Heart

My mind and heart will never be friends.
Sworn enemies, they wrestle and box
for control of me, the battle never ends
like the tick tocking pendulums of clocks

I ask my mind when it keeps me awake,
"Tell me, what do you think I should do?"
It growls and huffs, "Oh, for goodness' sake.
If you heed your heart, it will lead you askew!"

It went on to tell me to slow down to a crawl,
and I shouldn't hurry to make a quick decision.
It compared me to Humpty Dumpty on the wall,
headed for a fall and on course for a collision.

I'm weary of refereeing their constant scuffle,
especially when it concerns falling in love or not.
I keep smoothing the crumpled feathers they ruffle.
When they argue I'm the one put on the hot spot!

When I ask my heart, " Will you lead me astray?"
I can feel it ache as though it's crying deep inside.
It replied, "My emotions are not easy to convey,
but from love's fervor you should not choose to hide.

Falling in love is a risk and a big decision to make.
Your mind may be a sage with words and thought,
but there's much to lose if real affection you forsake.
No mind can feel the love that lives in your heart."

An unresolved dilemma, so I petitioned my soul,
but it remained mute, mind nor heart did it refute.
"Which one of you should I trust with control?"
That became the cornerstone for another dispute.

Mind: "Heart, I knew to your whim she'd concede."
Heart: "She chose to love and fulfill her great need."
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Clover's In the Bottom Right-Hand Corner Doing the Best with What Circumstance Brought Her

The ruffle of fleece at her neck
makes her feel manufactured, not born—
brushstrokes of windswept wool,
all soft edges and curves
the color of old milk.

Her lips were no artist's accident,
nor the smirk as she lurks
in the corner more knowing 
than any ewe usually dares. 
Coy smile, a pearled necklace 
of fur and her hind-end musk—
drew the brown ram sniffing 
while a dirt-faced ex-love nearby
chews through the cud to find
whatever’s left of her.

Closer to the cliff than either,
she teeters, grazing weeds
like the dutiful daughter of lamb stew,
like she doesn’t know the cost
of this life: skin blistered by sun,
meat slow roasted to melt
on the tongue, bones cracked
for their marrow, dreams curdled
and spun into the itchy arms
of some strayed-from-the-flock husband,
all too eager to forget
the warmth of her body.

But Clover knows better.
Knows that sheep go one of two ways—
a fireside comfort or the fire itself.
Knows the herd will go
where they are led,
always too late to see
the teeth of the cliff.

She stands alone,
the day's last shadows
pooling at her feet 
masticating through daisies 
and regrets. And then she leaps
toward the yellowing horizon
gathering salt-wind in her wool
along with the cliff-kissed breeze
of freedom that promises nothing 
but the opposite direction.

Resurrection

(Chorus)
You think you've got swagger but really you hobble,
you've got the jet lagger and you're drunk so you wobble,
don't start on me mate 'cus I will bring trouble,
to put it into slang words I'm Barney Rubble.

(Verse)
I will ruffle trouble 
'cus I'm on another level
that bombs with the base 
and stings with the treble,
I'll strut face to face with any ace rebel,
and put them in their place with their constant bull.

When I rhyme with my contortionist wrist
it expels a mist that sits around my fist,
I spell magic out on paper,
I'm playing with danger,
Mr. Wizardry the word selectionist,
squiggling fiction at speeds that feed friction
into rhymes that are non stop hot and cool, 
so flames don't flame on the table top,
journey with me to witness the plot,
the earth shaker creator of perfected hip hop,
starting revolutions so that mumble is forgot,
dislodging the rust and rot it coughs that clots
and instating my Barney Rubble at the top. 

(Chorus x2)

(Verse)
That last verse was just a small handful,
a sample of something that you cannot handle,
a scan like a bar code,
so lets open up the road and I'll unload these words,
I can't conceal this skill that rolls like wheels,
a Rolls Royce wearing heels,
in fancy halls doing dancing drills,
with golden walls 
to an old skool beat treat.
I wont get signed up by any record label,
but I'm still rhyming better than mumble's able,
just admit you're tapping your feet to the beat
while my rhyme sits on top solid like concrete,
with the dancefloor crammed full,
they're pulling at all angles,
making the memories 
that'll last 'til they're O A P's,
they think they've got swagger 
and they're like Mick Jagger,
they're more like Sepp Blatter
but a little bit fatter.

(Chorus x2)

(Verse)
You can call me Trimendous and true,
you thought I'd flew crashed and was screwed,
but I took it back to what inspired my act,
an old skool hip hop sick rhyme attack,
I rhymed in flight with this write
and its smile's wild with sublime delight,
there are no poetic rare words 
and I don't need swear words
in this dictionary spared verse
with airstream rhythm you can't burst,
I'm wearing this deserved set of words
that pilots and surges to my re-emergence,
a certainty that was never urgent
and not an encore from behind the curtains.

(Chorus x2)
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Owl See You

Please don’t ruffle my feathers
It is very rude when you stare
I have the most sensitive hearing
And I know you are lurking there

I mainly venture out at night
For I really am quite shy
Many people don’t even see me
For I don’t make a noise when I fly

My head can turn 270 degrees
So my eyesight is extremely good
Under cover of dark I lurk in the shadows
So you may not see me in the wood

I have two enormous eyes to see my prey
My face is shaped like a heart
I have a beak instead of a nose
I swoop on a mouse like a dart

I am a master of clever disguise
My feathers can camouflage me
You may not even be aware I’m there
I can blend in with the bark of a tree

My family of owlets stay with me
We stay near our roost in the spring
Our chatter is special, we hoot twit twooo
But you won’t ever hear us sing!


02~05~16

First three stanzas of the poem to be published in January 2017 by Cambridge University Press


Contest Owls Personification form
Sponsor Eve Roper

Submitted to Premiere Contest #9
Sponsored by Skat A

Premium Member Re-Found Visiting Qualicum Beach

We met a few years ago, then suddenly you were gone
We danced the very last dance to our favourite song

Happenings in our lives took control of our tomorrows
That evening when you walked away, filled my heart with sorrow
   ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~            
When I heard the telephone ring, I answered and you were there
And we spoke of the past few years, these years we could have shared

The time flew by when we talked, sharing our pasts to date
When you said you'd like to meet up again, my heart just couldn't wait
   ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~           
When I picked you up from the Airport, you hadn't changed at all
Six foot plus with sky blue eyes, still leaving me enthralled

We settled into our night for tomorrows journey we'll make
To a rented cottage so idyllically set, down by the lake
   ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          
The morning came so fast as we set of on our trip
Again going over the years, picturing like a movie clip

Our destination now reached, refreshed we head for a meal
At a restaurant overlooking the lake, our pasts begin to seal
   ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~
Back to the cottage we go, as you gently take my hand
So dreamy under the full moon, is this what fate had planned

You play our favourite song, the one we danced to so long ago
As you take me in your arms, something in me flows
   ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~
We look into each others eyes as you ruffle my long blond hair
I see desire looking back from your manly sky blue stare

Slowly we discard our clothes as you lay me on the bed
Adventurous discovering hands declare our minds well read
   ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~          ~
Our passion resonates, excitement fills the air
Years of catching up in delightful bodily share

We awaken in the morning, spooned within my reach
Our love has been reborn, re-found visiting Qualicum Beach







http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-15.php

Premium Member Black Bog

My descent was gradual, sedge meadows with wondrous pink orchid variations visited by never identified damselflies, my head starting to swim; erasing time, giving way to a dark canopied wetland of black spruce, difficult to traverse, sloping deer trails the safest path to take, avoiding quick-mud holes. These trails are popular in the forest, as signs reveal, death struggle remains, the saddest.
 This is the area I saw the hairless half ape/half wolf like creature block my trail, stopping to look at me deeply, then vanishing like a ghost, without even a ruffle of plants.
 Sometimes a plant, flower or insect calls to me "come closer" so I approach with caution; my hand carved heavy oak staff probing for danger, strong enough to ward off bears and badgers, snakes & insect saboteurs, intent on my demise.
 With compass and topo I chart my course, knowing each time I visit these wild places in the forest off Lake Superior, it could be my last, so I bring back natural, wondrous souvenirs that fill my day-dreams, content once more, cleansed of my sins by Her Majesty, the forests off Gitchi Gumee.


Authors note...never venture into these wild places alone, always be prepared with survival equipment in your pack.

Premium Member The Call of the Sea

Hark, it is the sea that lures me,
It murmurs slowly, it roars out loud.
It brushes lightly on the shingles,
It washes roughly brackish crags,
And as its moods yields to its whims,
It holds me firmly in its spell, 
It holds me in its everlasting thrill. 
Every blessed day it sings to me 
Just like a siren, magical and forlorn,
And calls me back to her enticing grip.

Oft I may wander in some country glen,
Or climb a mountain high,
Still in my mind I hear the call,
Haunting and taunting,
Enticing and beckoning,
Till my lonely soul would yearn
To smell the briny spray of mighty waves,
To sail upon the gentle breakers,
To feel the salty wind ruffle my hair.

Quick, quick, I run towards the shore,
I launch my little boat onto the choppy waves,
My tiller quivers, my sail flutters,
Soon around me I behold
Vast endless expanse of celestial hues,
And smell the mighty fragrance of the blue.
 
The wondrous breezes gently blow 
As smoothly as we glide to islands Greek,
To new adventures and delightful views,
That kindles warmth within my ancient soul. 

Shores fade away, mistily, afar,
I am alone at last like a lonely cloud,
Horizons loom or recede so near, so far,
Inviting, luring, restless as my love.

Mesmerized I steer my little boat away,
Ahoy there, let no one stop my way.
For now I am alone and tranquil,
Alone at last with my delightful dream:
The sea that I love so much.

It Does Not Matter How Much You Ignore Me

Sorry, I no more seek your suns
Nor moons
Yes, your suns I loved very much

Your passionate sun
Around which my planets would run
Your cool moons
Shedding long leaves
On my glistening lagoon
I remember
All my swoons
From wine in your spoon 

But your nerves
Went for new curves
It happens
Very often
Our rivers do not like the same course
Especially when you endorse
Flames of passion
And we are rivers

You developed a new craze
In a psychedelic haze
In that crazy spree
You started neglecting me
Initially I got lonely
Missed you terribly
My ocean frozen I was in a depression
Of the morbid flower
In pale blue showers
From the two windows
Morose under compulsion
For many a day, month and year
Irritation in the mug of bear
Tearing my spirit
Pulverizing all my lyrics
Landslide in Mirik 

But again all rivers are resilient
If you stop its normal course
It gathers unexpected force
The remorse underlie

I grew seasoned without you
I was out of the bottomless blues
Though could not but reflect on the cues
In the morning dew
And sighed too
But I learned to live agile and alert
Brushing aside the frozen heart
Gave up on hashish
Cleaned the debris
Started looking smart

Now I have travelled a long path
No more remorse no wrath
No smokes of the aftermath
Now I understand
The diamonds of life
Love matters much
Especially in the flowers of touch
But when you ignore
It does not matter
I have got my poems of freedom
Your walls can never ruffle them
______________________________
23/11/2016
Note: Mirik is a Himalayan tourist spot in Darjeeling

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace