Best Solicitous Poems
POTD 6 Mar 2020
Oh, where are those waves
of bygone days
that caressed and rocked
on hearing you cry?
‘Sleep little ship’ I'd murmur low
while ocean crooned her soft lullaby
Turbulent change wrought by tempestuous winds
Fresh cravings to taste the salted breeze
In foam and spray twixt the now lashing waves
Illusions waft to tempt and tease
Resounding thunder heralds a storm
Streaks of lightning split the skies
Your torch burning bright to take the helm
for selfish reasons my love denies
Indecisions vacillate crucial visions
cavernous chasms far withdrawn
The deeper I think the lower I sink
The wind howls forth a cry forlorn
No delusion with love ~ high the price
In this icy realm my resistance will take
a solicitous change of a Mother’s heart
Look not the shattered glass in your wake
The impulses of the over protective mother and keeping her child sheltered in a bubble away from the real world is just not feasible anymore. The ‘Breaking Point’ is, when she must weigh up her own feelings - either relinquishing her relationship with her offspring by forcing it to stay, or breaking her heart if she lets it go.
Ultimately, as in the ‘Story of Life’…. Love conquers all.
~Happy International Women's Day to those celebrating on Sunday 8th ~
POTD 6 Mar 2020
Miles in a coaster, a day and hours elapsed,
Felt the utmost relief when the whirling wheels halted;
So weary and dizzy, even a smile seemed so hideous
But an in peace slumber I desperately craved for;
Eyes wide-opened at the chirping of euphonious birds,
Stirred myself with hankering for the glimpse of exquisite village,
But still a dawn blanketed in frosty mist, sight diminished,
I’d only steal the blurry scene of Tang valley;
An hour after, when the glorious sun showed its perky visage,
Outside I stood relishing the splendor of the hamlet
And savoring the icy breeze wafting underneath my nose
With succulent aroma from the Mother Nature;
Amidst undulating hills and mountains down lay a quiet place,
So called Tang enclosed by rich vegetation and iridescent river
That embellishes the heavenly place superfluously picturesque,
Enticing all man into the blissful homeland of Tang Valley;
Houses clustered and down beneath the farmyard,
Divine school stands with its pride upheld
And hallowed veneration anyone would esteem,
It is so-called Tang Central School elevated of late;
Established in 1965, primary to middle since last year,
Now shines the school proud and gratified of its new recognition
As the central school bestowed with prerogatives and autonomy,
And concurringly, rejoicing its Golden Jubilee in eons;
Postures upright like inert figurines in a park,
Crescendo of unripe singsong voices spring at eight and thirty,
Crooning the sincere words of praise and homage to Tsa-Wa-Sum
That infuses the all hearts with never like joie de vivre;
A trickle of erudite whizzes and astute greenhorns
Gathered deep delved into a bond of kinship with no antipathy,
But an unremitting fondness amongst solicitous brethren-
A purveyor of ecstasy as its depiction I call for the beautiful home.
Laura
Solicitous, complicated, sad, happy
Sister of Sharon, Charles, Robert and David
Lover of uniqueness, creativity, and rain
Who feels darkness, hope, and intensity
Who fears the unknown, the love of my life, and my chemistry teacher
Who would like to see England, Ireland and Candyland
Resident of San Gabriel, California
Breidenthal
Hello Friend!
You are welcome!
Don’t underrate that we are boasting about ourselves.
Don’t treat us as the suppliers of the basic needs only.
Try to reach our inner voice.
When you get disturbed,
You can come and roam under this canopy.
You certainly feel the ambience pious and solicitous
The green cover soothes and cheers your heart.
You can regain your energy and confidence.
You know, your forefathers roamed happily in these glades.
Fairies often came down and rested here.
Knowing this, they used to worship us.
Their cultures and festivals were tied with us.
Believe it or not, still we can hear their voices lingering on in this air.
During autumn, we shed our leaves
And in spring we get the lost glory back.
We never get demoralized.
We know Life and its secrets.
“Service” is our motto.
You sit on chairs;
Sleep on cots;
Eat our fruits and nuts
Everything is being used - hides, herbs, roots, leaves and what not...
Store your valuables in the wooden boxes;
We die and transform into coffins to safeguard your corpse. Why?
We know the purpose of living.
Living or dying doesn’t matter.
Serving others gives the bliss of heaven.
Look at the age- old Oak trees
Standing like staunch pillars
They are symbols for strong determination and invincible spirit.
Our strength lies in our roots.
They are hidden in this soil.
The inner strength is superior to all.
Look at the mighty trees. How humble they are!
The calamities sometimes cause severe damage to us.
But we can withstand and revamp this pristine nature..
Is it not the sign of our perseverance?
Hundreds of creatures find their dwellings in us.
Are we not protecting them like a mother?
Dear friend,
Recall the moral of the story that you read in your childhood.
“Enjoy the egg but not be greedy and try not to cut open the hen.”
Remember,
Protecting trees means you are building a heaven for your grandchildren.
PLACED : 1ST
Wisdom from Trees Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Date: 19-05-2022
Written: October 1st 2023
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the ocean of silence, I’m stunned
Astonish by its grandeur as I descend.
A comely curtain of conciliatory calm
Elapse the chaos, surreptitious and warm.
In the hushed embrace of the twilight sky,
A silence plummets, ambrosial all nearby.
Astonied hearts stand in solicitous awe.
A comely night implies her ethereal flaw.
Emollient whispers waft into the air.
Surreptitious secrets are shared with care.
Incipient stars start their gentle wafture,
Surreal leaves create a ripple in nature.
Mellifluous melodies mend meteoric might,
Fugacious flimsies that fizzle out of a fight
Gossamer moonbeams cast their diaphanous glow,
Creating an aura of silence, tranquility, and bestow.
Ineffable fairness, fiercely feisty, not frigid,
The break of dawn silenced, as if timid.
Saturnine secrets shrank in secrecy.
Stupendous silence slides, sinewy spree.
Lull launders, looping the limp land,
As warblers start with a duteous band,
Sullen clouds gather, ominous and dark.
Yet awestruck hearts find solace in calm remarks.
Reassuringly, the heavy silence lingers.
Dour faces are glum, yet prudent fingers
Guide the oxymoron of emotions that flow,
Glowering and divine in their quiet glow
In the gloomy hush, discretion gleans hold,
As discerning minds decry peace in the fold,
The prudent ones, with a discreet glance,
Understand the power of silence dance.
Glum faces settle in quiet repose.
Views deepen, and worries dispose
Astounded by stillness, they are in awe.
Of absolute peace that stillness can draw.
Awestricken by the amorphous depth it brings,
They decry solace in the lull that silence sings.
A curtain of calm tumbles, amazed and serene.
As the amorphous depth of quiet is felt and seen.
Inauspicious cruxes balmily soothe fears.
As diaphanous whispers softly, quell tears.
Hinky hearts hearkens a hypothesis behind,
A voice uttered, "Love silence will never hide".
No query or qualm can squeal this bond.
Silence is where my peace is dulcet fond.
In the hushed embrace of the twilight sky,
Silence reigns, and my love will never die.
Cat lights on the table, bling!
Can opener growl to open a tin
Tuna glide pounce for a troubadour sing
Cat stretches full length
A paw to each shoulder
A nuzzle to my neck now bolder
Soft blending purrs, caressing
Soft, slow lane nestling
Solicitous whimsical beauty
Self advertising cutie
Insular world of feline grace
Meal ticket playful embrace,
a no default risk
Like a heart-felt smooch, brisk
Best hope for survival
in scents of sweet revival
when a tin can squeal
is a laurel of love to steal
for a status high creature
curled, contented
in fishy food cuisine.
Poem revised January 31, 2022
It wasn’t that she was the only woman
in the group, that mingled precariously
beneath the bronze figure, or her classic
stance, when placing immaculately the
newsprint covered bottle to lips willingly
breached, but more her opulent style, her
contrast of attire, her hair as yet unspoilt.
Although jewel less except for a wedding
ring in her recently pierce blood stained ear
lobe, (this bearing signs of some street wise ritual?)
she still wore a suave sophistication, eyes
that bred a wanton life, fingers more use to
the gentle stem of the crystal goblet, than
the demure grasp of the shapeless neck of
the common brown. But alas maybe the
corrosion has not as yet penetrated her
foreboding mind, a mind that in time will
be given to surrender, never to realize that
this volatile life will plunge her deeper, into
one shambolic life, whilst still trying to escape
from the previous. But! Who knows what ills she
was force to bear, what tribulations life brought
upon her, maybe her new found acquaintance
comfort her, listen to her sympathetically,
understanding her predicament, also a novelty
this sharing, this caring, respect and reverence
showered upon her, like solicitous petals
falling gracefully upon her shoulders,
removing the burdens of a lifetime.
Her head
began to lift higher and higher with every
mouthful of distant courage, every courteous act.
Then! A look of deep despair, as the bottle was
released from her reluctant deep red lips, a
senseless shake only proved her greatest fear.
Immediately to her aid, came one of her new found
companions, swiftly finishing his own endless gorge,
he commence to wipe the neck of his perpetual habit,
with his mucus soiled cuff less sleeve, before
passing it on to her veracious hand, his eyes eagerly
awaiting its return.
One can imagine when the long day
is over, the sun finally at rest, only the motley bench will be hers, only the best that fleet street can offer, will cover her chilled body, her metabolism soon accelerating, to become one with theirs, a license to enter their dissipation, only then will all options for her diminish, external metamorphosis soon to blend with inner corruption, life’s destruction almost completed!
© Harry J Horsman 1991
Haven where solicitous parents hover
over sick little ones and dispense advice to
mature ones; an emotional stronghold, not merely an
edifice one enters for physical shelter.
Sanctuary whose personality changes
with time, paralleling inhabitants' metamorphoses,
embellished with evidences of the pride and sentimentality
each possesses, those preferences each
thrives on as part and parcel of existence.
Houses become homes when those within love them and
one another--nurturing, respecting, mending,
maintaining that rapport and awareness
essential in relationships within and beyond walls.
July 5, 2017, entered in Brian Strand's Early July Premiere Contest
My
Japanese Butterfly
Sole proprietor of my eye
Sole proprietor of my sky
Canary, strawberry
Colors extraordinary
She lives in an orangery
In a hole under an orange tree
Her kisses are of lemon-lime
Citrus, overwhelmingly delicious
Captivating submissive I’ve made
A solicitous conscious decision
To explore, desire, love-n-adore
Till I die
My Japanese Butterfly
Sincerely,
Your Puffy-eyed Chinese Dragonfly
Thanksgiving 1930
Mama was running around the house trying to make space for everyone to lay their heads when the night draped the day.
The house was jovial and laughter bang against the four walls like a rushing tide against an embankment, and it filled the cracks with vibrating music.
The aroma of baked turkey, ham, and yams live freely in the air with tobacco smoke. It was one of the most happiest and memorable day of my life.
My cousins and I made thunderous cacophony while running through the house.
The men in the family sat in the parlor in front of the fireplace sipping on papa's dandelion wine, and verbalizing their views on politics and agriculture.
The women gathered in the kitchen to prepare the meal and exchange recipes.
They knew everything significant about the world, according to them.
They knew every poultice and herb to fix for just about any type of ailment.
They knew and philosophized on the affairs of the heart.
They knew the words of the Lord and quote them in their solicitous conversations.
They were icons
Excerpt from short story Pinstripe Suit
copyright Labyrinth of Life 2007. Labyrinth of Life is a compilation of short stories and poetry.
What have you got to say for yourselves
as I sit here at the stoplight
and watch snow fall on your headstones?
I laugh to think that you could
be so kind, so solicitous,
so full of mirth and merry making
as the rest of us slog our way
through winter while you rest in peace.
Shall I be jealous of your peace?
Not in the least.
I, too, sleep--not in hallowed ground--
but in the sweet repose
of love's hot embers
that burn with endless blessings
of a heart set free.
Shall we dance in the moonlight at dawn?
Shall we clap to the trumpet's chill-blast?
I think we should hope for a circular tune
that we'll all sing together at last.
(Mount Hope Cemetery, located in Upstate New York.)
I am light dawned on an eternity,
Promising tomorrows, giving today
A traversable feeling growling into conviction—
I am the fuel for the flame,
A rock for the lame
Where do I find home in which to land?
Do I seek refuge, or do I seek danger?
Am I vulnerable in my strengths?
Am I solicitous in my aims?
Do I laugh?
Do I cry?
I am in the air you inhale, frequently skimming your ground,
Sometimes I move deafeningly—
And at times I float without a sound
I have seen the change in your eyes,
The moment you grew into a man
The moment you sobbed away sin
And exposed the evil hand
I am light dawned on an eternity,
Promising tomorrows, giving today
But who am I?
Why do you hear me, when others vow I am myth?
Why do you listen, when the thunders threaten to deafen you?
Why do you doubt, when you have seen my wonders eye to eye?
When you have felt my hand on your lips,
Quieting your writhing, screaming soul?
Who am I?
I am the revealer,
In hope I am your chief
The spark in the dark that galvanizes you
The smoke in the air that sooths you
Forever and always,
I am the best of your heart,
And I am free with fires impermeable!
Cell phone
Ringing
Texting
Roaming
Harming
A nice, handy, ringing, texting boon
Misused by the roaming, harming goon.
Helpful wife
Loving
Caring
Taunting
Hurting
Solicitous, loving, caring wife
Of great help in taunting, hurting life.
For: Dr. Ram Mehta's "TYBURN" contest, 17 aug 11
( written following the PS example)
It can be gloomy as winter's dreariness...
when nothing else glistens but cold snow;
and it can be as mysterious as summers' nights...
when the crickets are heard from a dark lawn.
Come out and see the many images of the pale moon,
which changes its shape on certain months, or days of the year:
full moon, half moon and three quarter of a moon
still captivate us more than any other planet distant and clear.
Who hasn't heard legends about this mysterious planet not so cheery?
In Medieval Times, it seemed to have magical powers so solicitous;
and to whom it was so leery...if not to a saint exalting God only?
Poets of this age...wonder how it turns lovers passionate and amorous!
I have contemplated with admiration the many images of the pale moon
for almost a lifetime: from my hilarious childhood to my hermetic manhood,
and it hasn't broken its incantation, or changed a bit in color and even mood;
if I could reach it, I'd transform it into a garden of loveliness as anyone should.
Accept lack of infinite knowledge
accept there is much to impart
accept my mortal existence
accept my falable heart
accept the limits of language
accept the curving of time
accept the eternal expanse
accept my downfall of virtue
accept the inconsistency of words
accept my purposeful intentions
accept my discourse with ego
accept my negative nature
accept my torturous suffering
accept my wandering moods
accept the critical glances
accept my sated desires
accept my unruly vexations
accept my moral incontinence
accept my bitter diatribes
accept my feigned attention
accept my solicitous silence
accept my anxious aggression
accept the death of civility
I accept nothing, I strive for perfection