Best Sedate Poems
"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
I want to ride a zebra
and race the rays of radiance
through heat-waves’ sailing gradients -
a folly wild - a mood untamed
elated hands in bristled mane
unbridled veins uncorked champagne...
yes! elevate sedate heart rate
I WANT to ride a zebra
stripes yin yang oasis sweet and
whimsy rules a drumroll beat as
gallop sways euphoric roughness
crossing plains of dreamy lushness -
steed’s exotic tender toughness
pacing thrills in state of luscious...
yes! animate to sate my wait
I want to RIDE a zebra
savanna grass a grand expanse
a lion’s roar - hyena's rant
amuse myself with peril’s speed
adventure sows romantic’s seed... so
gestate date with fancy’s fate
YES! I want to ride a Z E B R A !
Sitting quietly beneath the old blue gum tree
Flowers surround me lined in neat rows on the lawn
White and blue, tall and short placed as if by gods’ decree
My eyes mist, oh god what she had undergone
Her face clouded in pain, body still as a frightened fawn
The room white, Spartan white sheets drape the bed
Her raven black hair no more, so much left unsaid
Eyes of fierce emerald green now dull and sedate
God let fall tears the day her mortal coil she did shed
Soon again in each others arms, standing at heaven’s gate
Written 30/01/2015
So much passion,
so much fire,
you're like a drug;
with you,
I can't get any higher.
Loving me all over,
I can't even breathe.
I used to be sober,
but you took that from me.
You make me warm
from my head to my feet.
You're an angel
sent from heaven,
I'm lost in your
perfect heat.
You radiate my body
with that smile
and those perfect eyes.
You sedate my every muscle,
when your hands
touch my thighs.
Kissing you
blocks my reality.
I'm enraptured
by your touch.
Stuck in my head
you're the melody
of a song they
could never play too much.
I hope I never loose you,
not now or ever again.
I couldn't live without you,
you are the sweetest sin.
You make the stars
shine brighter every night,
and every day,
the sky changes its shade of blue.
Being with you
everything feels right,
there's no wrong in
anything we do.
Skin touching skin
sparks fly and ignite.
Again and again,
we write our song
through the night.
This is how your feels with
just a few words to describe it.
When our lips meet,
I get chills.
you're perfect,
so never deny it.
Staying on a promontory, I watch,
The wobbling mass of water below.
Before my eyes,
The sea stretches far;
An infinite scroll of chiffon,
Rolling and unrolling
In shades of green and sapphire.
In its sedate hours of brooding silence,
A calm expanse with feeble waves,
As if seized by an uncanny lassitude,
Lying in majesty,
Swirling in ecstasy.
Within this mammoth silver submarine,
How many mysterious live forms thrive!
What curious shaped corals, what all sea urchins!
What wealth of fish, what gigantic mammals!
Between the blue sky above
And the blue sea below
I see seagulls fly,
The long beaked pelicans prey,
Grampuses heaving their huge form,
Above the calm surface,
And the milky spray tossing shiny pearls,
Upon the stretching naked strands.
I can see a distant sail,
And the hull of a ship,
Gliding over undulating waves,
Leaving a frothy trail of foam behind,
With water churning and spiraling around,
Where sharks and seals and dolphins swim.
Piles of silver clouds move above
And the golden sands stretch below,
With periwinkles, crabs and shells,
Scattered by the receding waves.
Splashing tides, dancing weeds
Rising crescendo, falling rhythm
Oh! What a splendid scene,
In the rosy gleam of this evening!
What delectable mélange
Of tinkling sensory delights!
There once was, a Miss. Communication
With pleasure she loved to communicate
Writing of love and the wonders of life
Her passion extreme and never sedate
Those afraid, of Miss. Communication
For she expressed herself with all her might
They banded together, to make their point
Miss Took, Mr. E and yes Mr. Right
Sadly the Kingdom, fell into darkness
For not a single note flowed from her throne
The sound of her music, could not be heard
Miss Communication sad and alone
So the town people, gathered together
Including, one who was Miss. Understood
We looked to her, in hopes of an answer
As she strummed on her harp made out of wood
Miss. Communication, rose to the call
For in the end she knew they were all friends
Because with passion, sometimes lines are crossed
Miss. Communication, never pretends
She felt real joy and her pen regained strength
Entering again, into the land of dreams
For within, our miscommunications.
It's true, nothing is ever as it seems!
Events of the last few days have left me feeling sad.
Things said that have left people I care about hurt.
Misunderstood people on different sides that are
really in the end not so different from each other.
Reconciliation comes from listening, in the end
each of us is looking for a place to belong and be
appreciated. Let us choose to act with gentle hearts
and kind words. Being loving is a greater cause than
being right.
Touch me with your eyes
Let them roam all over me
Staring at what they desire
Embers of your soul’s fire
Touch me with your eyes
Touch me with your smile
Lighting me with need
Validating my form
With a curl of praise
Promise of what is to come
Touch me with your smile
Touch me with your tongue
Your ambassador of love
Sent to foreign lands: my body
Let it tease me
Please me
Fill me
Thrill me
Representing you
And what you will do
Touch me with your tongue
Touch me with your words
Let them make love to my mind
An intercourse of flames
Working their way into the folds
Of where my desires lie
Dormant...still
Waiting to be found
Touch me with your words
Touch me with your thoughts
Turn them into hands
That caress
Ravishingly posses
Enslave to liberate
Able to satiate
Pain to sedate
Determined to consummate
My rebel needs
Touch me with your thoughts
Touch me with your heart
Spread it all over mine
Let them beat in time
Sweetest rhythm
Pulsating rhyme
Sublime
The thunder of love
The symphony of life
A exultant melody
Of ecstasy
Touch me with your heart
Touch me with your body
The beauty of your frame
A man's mission to claim
To drive in the stake
Marking ownership of me
Touch me with your body
Oh...resurrect me with your touch!
Touch me
TOUCH me
Touch ME
TOUCH ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Touch me deep inside
Where my fantasy lies
Sleeping
A Sleeping Beauty
Waiting for your kiss of bliss
Touch me with your lips
Make me come
ALIVE!
Roya
Of course on this night we are supposed to be asleep so Santa
could come, but we hadn't been home from Midnight Mass very long, and the
invigorating cold was not conducive to sleep. Even the hot chocolate did not do
much to help sedate the excitement.
We were hoping for sleds that year. The snow was perfect for
sledding especially like we did it. We tied out sleds on behind the car or pick up
and were pulled through the hills. We got our sleds. My dad and my uncle made
them for us.
No television and only in the late years were we allowed to use the
radio. Batteries were to expensive for frivolous use. We spent many hours
playing cards or games.
I took time out and went to high school and college and got my
teaching certificate.
My aunt taught there only one year after the Federal Government
turned the schools over to the local government.
The last time I was back there the out buildings had been moved and
Indian families were living in them. The school was dirty and unkept.
Now the school is gone. The ancestors who once walked these
dusty plains are gone. The Indians who were there when I was a child are gone.
They are Ghosts. Ghosts whose faces can be seen in the clouds.
Ghosts who still chop wood on those sub zero nights. And the drums we heard
in the middle of the nights are still beating. They beat as strongly as the heart
beats in a healthy body. The laughter of the children still echoes under the
bridge.
The life blood of a culture, of a nation grows thin. The Battle of
Wounded Knee was the last battle to be fought between the white man and the
Indian on the northern plains. It's cries still echo across the land.
My foot prints in the creek did not last any longer than those they left
in the dust. But in my memories, this mile and a half by three quarter mile haven
still lives. And will live forever as a piece of unrecorded history.
A lamppost mirrors my frame drooping
while I close my eyes, awaiting morn
to flicker on spoiled dreams: till angelic whispers
begin a hymn through pin-points
of notes along sedate trees;
yet, the fire from my belly breathes
again like an orange wave...
how in this open pain, a light draws
me close to hope's rebirth
within a new world,
feeding my roots , my veins
borne from self-love..again.
"We can't be so desperate for love that we forget
where we can always find it; WITHIN.”
? Alexandra Elle
------------------------
The Most Important Event In Your Life
Contest Sponsor:Nayda Ivette Negron
10/7/2015
Don't dare to tell me how to act my age
Or that I'm too much drama on the stage
The curtain call will come, and here am I
I will not acquiesce before I die
I feel that time is running way too fast
This life I live, these moments will not last
There is no time to be sedate and coy
I'll break what binds and bends; I'll capture joy!
Tradition's heavy chain, I'll break somehow
I'll taste, I'll touch, I'll fly, and this I vow
When death comes near to give me fateful kiss
I will not weep, for nothing is amiss
The song that resonates inside, I'll sing
That hidden fantasy to light I'll bring
The cloistered dream, I'll set to frenzied flight
I will indulge my whims that bring delight
I will not leave my thoughts untouched by verse
I'll bless with words, immune to sting of curse
With blaze of light, I'll burn in brazen bliss
My lust for life I'll fill, nothing I'll miss
So do not tell me what to do or say
I may not live for longer than this day
And I will not accept a normal state
I'll forge my life my way; I'll celebrate!
Eileen Manassian
Back in the fifties
America seemed much calmer
McCarthy's commie blacklists
Sputnik's shocking launch
Ike's wife Mamie so sedate
That pre-historic hairdo
World War Two over
We needed some time to heal
Alan Ginsburg penned his 'Howl'
Chuck Berry goosed his walk
The West Wing conservative
White House picket-fence painted
Boom! an explosion
Cultural revolution
Sixties' deaths brought us down
Hendrix, Morrison
Jackie became Onassis
Where's JFK's Camelot
Seventies came, went
Eighties crashed, burned, flamed out too
But Jerry Rubin's Wall Street
Greed ruled the Nineties
Internet changed all of us
The world at a click-click-click
New Millenium
Rapid change hurtles forward
People do change, however
Shootings dot landscape
Retreat into our smartphones
Loneliness Unconnected
Now the Age of Trump
Rears its flame-orange mane and screams
Me-too Movement gains traction
Women come forward
Teen suicide rate rises
Society imperiled
May 07, 2019
Entry: 'Best Sedoka' contest
Sponsor: Lu Loo
In a world over burdened with heartache and despair
there are moments when I find life too difficult to bear.
I long for a sanctuary; a quiet place of tranquil repose.
A cabin in the mountains where no one else ever goes
Or a placid valley where my nearest neighbor is a hare.
It need not be a Shangri La in which I would never age,
but Lord grant me a halcyon clime where there is no rage.
I'd settle for a seaside cave, lulled to sleep by lapping waves
There I'd not shed a tear over loved ones in their graves.
I'd write poetry about enchanting things, page after page.
I'm not looking for a permanent home so I can hibernate,
just a hideaway to myself so my apprehension can abate.
I need the perfect quiescent place, in a secluded location.
A silk cocoon or a Zen garden so I can relax in meditation
focusing on things that bring happiness so I can feel sedate.
September 30, 2021
"Q" Contest of New Poems
Sponsored by Constance La France
Treasures from my Past
In preparing for the yard sale, I gather all my junk,
I wade through the mass of items from decades before
From furniture to dishes that have sat down in my basement
And I realize that my past will be pushed outside my door.
I pick up a box of Royal Albert dishes from a dusty cardboard box,
Carefully removing the yellowed newspaper that wrap each plate,
Displaying the majestic burgundy strip with 24k gold filigree,
Rediscovering those joyful feelings that seem to calm and sedate.
Long before the death of my parents and my only aunt,
These plates graced the dining room table at all family celebrations.
Oh the food, the smells, the faces and the happy times,
These plates bring back all the best and warmest sensations.
With so many items to keep, each item with its own meaning,
The Royal Albert plates unpacked, finally get moved outside at last,
To ease my mind I think about the happiness that they can bring,
More happy memories for others, can be made from these plates of my past.
I'm a child of the '60's,
not quite a flower child,
never really a hippie
(though my ponytail
drove my uncle nuts!)
but still I ate the ever
crunchy Beatles for
breakfast, lunch, dinner
and roasted the Stones
whenever a lady came by.
I was free then or so
I told myself, free
to travel the world,
free to love and
then, inevitably,
always leave--
free to dream and
free to fail it seemed.
I owned only myself
but I owed no one--
both big mistakes
illusions really, for
we own nothing
save our souls,
we owe everything
to everyone, most
of all we owe God,
be we Baptist or
Hindu, Catholic or
Jew, Muslim or
atheist:we owe.
Most young ones
learn in time--
we are not free,
we are not strong,
we are not whole.
We hunger for
more than food,
we thirst for
more than water,
we need more
than money, and
we need more
than our minds.
We are the animal
never sated, never
full, never replete.
We are the animal
ever restless, sooo
easily bored, even
of life sometimes.
Is that why we argue
and fight, commit
pointless crimes,
end long marriages,
spurn our friends,
chase youth when
youth has become
less than a dream?
Is that really why
nations go to war,
because of boredom?
We do we always
feel we are missing
out on something?
Now that I am old,
I have no answers.
I thought I would
by now, I thought
I'd understand
myself, you, well,
everyone! And I
would know just
why I was so dumb
when I was young,
but I don't even
know why I am
so foolish old....
[written and posted 11/14/20]
Crazy People
The signal they need to be on the same
channel as you, is being interrupted, by voices or
wave signals connected to a different power station.
So why not listen to the message?
Instead you medicate. So now when they laugh
they cannot tell you what is funny....so
therefore, you stifle the message, and kill humor.
Instead of finding out what flight they were prepared for,
you medicate without understanding.
His drummer sent him a message,
that's the drum he dances to.
You kill the message, sedate the messenger;
And now you will never know.
Who's crazy them or you.?
Since some sit upon the right hand,
and some sit upon the left;
It’s only the Yen and Yang of God......
The crazy person wakes up laughing Hysterically;
You cannot even laugh at all...
So who's crazy, Them or you?
Both created by the same God,
or MAYBE Not!