Best Shroud Poems
hov’ring shroud of clouds
only God can prune a storm
levitate vortex
angels release petrichor
hanging sheets…mothballing hail
I grieve for Summer, watching the leaves die,
and as tears of emotion swell, I cry.
For saying goodbye is such a bummer,
watching the leaves die, I grieve for Summer.
Autumn drapes the land in a scarlet shroud,
sensing Autumn's approach; Summer was cowed.
And acquiescing to Nature's command,
in a scarlet shroud, Autumn drapes the land.
I feel a chill creeping into my bones
as the wind moans with ghostly overtones.
And treading on the dregs of Autumn's kill:
creeping into my bones, I feel a chill.
When Winter arrives, snow softens the stage,
at first, a lady, Winter holds her rage.
And ensuring Nature's wildlife survives,
snow softens the stage when Winter arrives.
Date: 14.04.2026
In the shroud of dusk, I see
pink shadows on sky's blueboard,
the sun's aura in the sea,
Tangerine ball has me floored,
inspires stirring poetry,
I feel the hand of the Lord
and a sense of mystery.
Shroud of Dusk
The golden sun fades away
As fierce orange carves its way,
Soon purple light starts to bloom
For violets to make room,
Trees are now ghosts of the grey
As shroud of dusk spreads its sway
Heralding end of the day.
Cotton candy pinks and marshmallow whites
flaunt iridescent sheens buffed by the sun.
And colored clouds, lined with mother-of-pearl,
hang in the sky, like a prize fairly won.
Darkness gathers in tattered strands of grey,
strewn across a sky of indigo blue.
And stars glitter as a dying sun shrinks,
to a crimson ball, with a scarlet hue.
Ebony fingers scratch at the skyline;
like inky tentacles grasping for light.
And as camouflaged trees morph into black;
silhouetted abstracts merge in the night.
Liquid amber burns atop umber waves,
while igniting frothy, foamy whitecaps.
And golden moonbeams gild gleaming waters,
as cascading breakers, crash and collapse.
Playful breezes tickle leaves on the trees,
sending laughter tumbling down to the ground.
And as Sol dies, wrapped in a scarlet shroud,
time's suspended: and tranquility's found.
News from Afghanistan places you
in an emotional killing zone.
And you try to escape from the grief
that threatens to turn your heart to stone.
You seek a panacea that'll
alleviate or abolish pain.
And desperate to find happiness,
you take a walk down memory lane.
Pain resonates in your broken heart,
rekindling the side effects of hurt.
And you stand at his burial plot
with sad tears and a handful of dirt.
Mother earth takes him to Her bosom,
and a bleeding sun grieves for your loss.
For this dreamer will waken no more,
buried in home soil, under a cross.
The sin of taking another's life
stained his soul in the name of world peace.
And heartbroken, tattered, and destroyed,
you believe the tears will never cease.
Laid out with military honors,
rifles salute, as Death stands proud.
For though a bullet ended his life,
a politician wove his death shroud.
(Quatrain)
5/20/2017
At rules she'd curse
Wear masks? Worse still!
Her hearse awaits
A silver sliver of crescent moon
slips over the rim of the Earth.
Sol waits, in inky darkness, as Dawn's light
pierces the night at its heart,
announcing His rebirth.
A pink carnation of a sun
blooms on the horizon's east edge.
And a spider's web, freshly spun,
hangs like netting draped on the hedge.
gold butterfly wings
wrapped in a white silken shroud...
life's eaten alive
Fog has shrouded the yard and house
Yet the sun tries to shed its golden light
It is so beautiful this morning
The shroud is low but above
Is this glorious sky blue sky
With polka-dotted cottony clouds
With the light of the sun radiating outward
I can not see the trees across the road
Nor the short distance to creek
However I know that they are there
Even in my inability to see them
I feel this awe inspiring Spirit come over
I am in the presence of the Spirit
I can feel him surround me
The roosters still welcome the sun
A few birds sing in the still and damp
The crows are calling for their flock to come
Dine on the early worms and bugs
The Prairie Sunflower just radiates
Its golden yellow for me to enjoy
I am so glad that I was allowed
To have this flower in my yard
A pear just fell from the tree
Reminding me that fall is here
The coolness in the air is wonderful
Thank you for this day
I have withdrawn from grim and gloomy feelings.
I have no time for wistful faces that plague the day
with melancholy conversation and life-sucking sadness.
The drama too much to digest and too trivial to express.
The shroud of depression envelopes the soul
spiraling it toward the depths of psychosis.
Discard delusions of undignified and unfounded discontent.
Instead, I seek cheerful gladness and joyful vibes.
I invest my time with gregarious and social aspects
of amiable discourse and exuberant life-serving happiness.
The manzai of life situations is peculiar funniness.
The revealing mirthful banter opens the psyche
whirling it toward heights of responsible normalcy.
Embrace each moment as though it is the last – it could be.
Seven By Seven Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
4/16/2026
Shroud Of Dusk
sun in shadows late at dusk
through my city's fall on me
from skies and within windows
perhaps as the dark would be*
where some streetlight will survive
this unrelenting day's search
for moving and for standstill
I watch you sleeping,
shrouded by shadows
and I just want to curl up beside you,
hold you forever...
If only I could,
I would take away all of your pain,
everything that has been causing it
and absorb it
How I wish it were that easy
I am not even that strong
but I still want to do that,
if I could...
Role reversal--
I suck at it.
You've protected me for so long,
guided me, taught me
and now,
when it seems that
it should be my turn
to do that for you,
I fail miserably.
I seem so powerless
to what we are against
Is it because I am not yet strong enough...
or because you are so strong?
God knows how life has dealt you with
heavy, heavy blows
and yet you still stand.
Sometimes a bit frail,
yet your inner strength
always carries you through
How I wish I can be like you.
That black veil is still there
as I watch you sleep
When will it be lifted?
I do not know.
I'm here, though
always will be
071320111144p1158
Gossamer Shroud
Finery most precious.
Whimsical silk and all it's tales.
More than deep mythology.
So that woman may go naked,
while clothed.
Wearing nought,
but bright colored clouds.
Almost religious,
sericulture of it's knowledge.
Volunteering, I live to do so,
'Standing' guard over this secret.
Even today, being windy it is so.
And it is,
ever so much cooler because of it.
Is It Poetry
Each night's wrapped in a silken shroud
when sunset brings the end of day.
We wait for sleep and dream aloud,
"oh let me soar where bright spheres play."
Outside my window, in the sky
the tight-knit flag of night unfurls,
the moon and stars of silver fly
and billow clouds dance, reel, and whirl.
I dream of flying on a cloud
and landing where the stars array;
to greet the endless deep as proud
and view each night's bejeweled cachet.
If, from the heavens we espy
the earth, a luminescent pearl,
do not let our turn pass us by
until we touch her gilded swirl.
Outside my window bright stars crowd
along the moon's eternal quay.
Guide me through night, with hopes unbowed
to fly where stars and planets play.
Night's Silken Shroud
Quatrains
A Shroud
Eyes of Autumn green, permeate the serenity of my skies.
Our worlds, they seem to be stone cold – impervious to my silent cries.
With each encounter- every passing moment – something dies
within – for what is within may never take wing – nothing flies.
This day – in the air - hangs heavy, vailed with oppressive sadness.
It is this hollowness, this emptiness, that i seem to want to caress
with my thoughts, my feelings, all causing such excruciating stress
upon this life, already blanketed by a deep darkness, a bleak abyss.
Fate – she be a black hole – this exquisite lady that devours
my heart, my soul – yet seldom and only for a few hours –
during our brief moments, yet my spirit soars past the bowers
as I come to realize, believe that nothing beyond, flowers.
This beautiful garden I see, seems to be made of stone,
preferring to leave me sterile, lost and alone.
Desire – what a mate she would be – such a cruel fate,
for she leaves us, shipwrecked upon the shore, with a full slate
of all the years that have gone before, not a light to be shone
upon a possible future, no future to break at early dawn.
Our worlds, you have separated with this heavy curtain
leaving me wondering ?, guessing ?, so very uncertain.
Ravenous is the monster !!!, as she eats away at herself,
and us of age – time – we will never be putting on a shelf
for another day, so best be taking hold of every opportunity
- smell it, taste it, feel it, savour it and be what we will be !
The moments that are given to us, let us not let them slip away,
let them live, give them a full life , do not wait another day,
for life passes, so quickly away, moments come but never stay.
To know what you will not give, this is what I pray !
B. J. “A ” 2
November 2nd 2006