Best Stained Poems
Oh, the forest whispers to me,
as stained leaves on the ground crinkle;
and birds chirp and trill in a tree,
but too soon those leaves will wrinkle.
As I walk the wind groans and moans,
oh, the forest whispers to me;
soon the branches will be bare bones,
the crows cawing is like a plea.
Squirrels chirrup running with glee,
through the leaves that swirl, twirl and dance;
oh, the forest whispers to me,
the beauty puts me in a trance.
A stream that gurgles and thunders,
and ducks still quack and float carefree;
so many sweet scenes and wonders,
oh, the forest whispers to me.
_______________________
October 16, 2021
Poetry/Quatern/ The Stained Glass Forest
Copyright Protected, ID-10-1397-695-16
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Onomatopoeia
sponsor, Emile Pinet, Judged 11/13/2021
Fourth Place
Poem of the Day October 18, 2021
Categories:
stained, autumn, nature,
Form:
Quatern
At high noon mass
thru colored glass
a playful sunray dances
for blessed sunday glances
reflected stained mosaic
hardly looks archaic
when the rainbow’s set afire
by heavenly orchestrated choir
the congregation rejoices
moved by angelic voices
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on December 9, 2019 for contest STRAND SPECIAL sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 3RD
Originally posted on October 23, 2019
Categories:
stained, angel, beautiful, color, heaven,
Form:
Rhyme
Into the timeless wood he fled, running from the night
While demons of his past gave chase beneath the pale moonlight
The man dressed in soiled rags, filth of his own making
Had spent a life unto himself, all others there forsaking.
But in the night, as shadows came, though nothing made a sound
A voice there in the dark he heard, though no one was around
Calling out to him by name, “Go… seek the blood stained bridge
Its ageless timber, dogwood made, up on yon high ridge.”
Somehow, he knew the voice he heard while running from the night
Was not from friend or foe without, but came from deep inside
So run he did through elder wood, to find the yon high ridge
The Voice there still was guiding him to reach the fabled bridge.
In agony, all power spent, found he the edge of night
His demons dogged him all the way and pressed him for a fight
The host advanced and pushed him back, back toward yon high ridge
But, when he turned to his dismay, he found no “saving” bridge.
He questioned if the voice he heard and trusted in the night
Was naught but wishful thinking; a last ditch hope-filled lie
In anguish and frustration there, he stood in fear and pain
And cursed his stubborn nature that kept him bound in shame.
Despairing for the life he’d lived, in fear of coming death
He fell there on the shifting sand and cried with his last breath
“I’m sorry for the things I’ve done and regret the life I’ve led”
He turned then to accept his fate, but there appeared the bridge instead.
The shadows all began to fade, his soul started to mend
As he took the first step ‘cross that bridge, the night came to an end
Waiting on the other side, the risen sun in brilliant light
The Voice within him beckoned, “Come,” then freed him from the night.
~Christopher Thor Britt
Categories:
stained, allegory,
Form:
Heroic Couplet
Emotional me
is out from my verbose head
like a winter flower with
petals, so much like
hankies of a sleepless god,
to wave in such elegance
my charm over you,
again and again, ‘til your
smile, left to death by the strides
of your rococo
lover, is awakened and
becomes my choka poem
Categories:
stained, lost love, love, sympathy
Form:
Choka
Stained in colours
Amongst same species, let colour not stain the souls, be it black or white.
Written March 15th, 2016
For contest "Monoku #9"
Sponsor- PD A
Categories:
stained, visionary,
Form:
Monoku
Stained glass child, I see your window every day
A picture of innocence, purity being portrayed
Can’t tell if happy, such an expressionless face
As my black soul passes, this once sacred place
Thy stature diminished, thy name is desecrate
This window screams at me, you abandoned faith
A symbol of times past, the masses came to pray
Forsaken by doubt, and my religion went astray
Lost without direction, I attempted another route
Trees where stripped bare, of low hanging fruit
Can anyone be sure, what dwells beyond demise
Out of reach answers, high in the canopy reside
So the stained glass window, gives nothing away
No sadness, just indifference to a divergent sway
Inscrutable indecipherable, a picture froze in glaze
Enduring illustration, of our past ecclesiastic days
Later life offered, more than reflection and prayer
Leaving surreality, stumbled upon a hedonistic lair
A craving for escapism, morphs to delusional need
I descended into oblivion, an atheist in the weeds
Now searching amongst theories, some I embrace
Seeking out some creator, in the medium of space
From quantum to infinite, amid macro micro waves
Alas reality of life, may only be found down a grave
Stained glass child, with the halo above your head
Embedded in a window, framed with softened lead
Watching you as my life, inexorability draws an end
Have I missed the point, where you my only friend
Soul Betrayal Poetry Contest
Categories:
stained, absence, christian, death, life,
Form:
Rhyme
I am in a room,
With a brush and a broom.
Casually looking into the window,
But unable to see the rainbow.
My eyes unable to comprehend,
For the window was stained.
Clouded with colours of bleakness,
Darkened by Disappointments,
Reddened by Rejection,
Dimmed by Dejection,
Smudged by Self-doubt,
And Clouded by Criticism in and out.
My mind hovered back,
When things weren't so abstract.
The window was so clean,
That I could see future foreseen.
The rainbow was blooming bright,
As I viewed the world with great delight.
Suddenly I came back to senses,
I rose my brush as a reflex.
Maybe it just needed some cleaning,
As I thought deeming.
I looked again at the window of life,
Sure enough it needed healing all right.
27/03/23
NOTE: Inspiration taken by Book:- Attitude is everything by Jeff Keller
Categories:
stained, how i feel, life,
Form:
Rhyme
It saddens me to gaze upon the stars
I see them blinking, fighting back their tears
Reminding me our distance is so far
Their numbers are the days without you near
Assembling pieces of my scattered thoughts
An image comes to me in stained glass scenes
Subconsciously I gather shards embossed
Create a picture of you here with me
Then suddenly a sign from fate appears
A shooting star takes flight across the sky
I close my eyes and wish that you were here
To stay with me and never say goodbye
I think about the happiness love brings
Then go inside to dream my stained glass dream
an original poem by Daniel Turner
Categories:
stained, longing, love, stars,
Form:
Sonnet
A chromatically colored specter
in flight, lands upon bluebells
in the garden; a statuesque palette
drinks the nectar from flowers;
collects pollens for crafting
her own gardens nearby.
The delight of a stained glass winged
butterfly, is ever profound;
nature’s sweet gifts of grace.
Categories:
stained, animal, appreciation, bird, butterfly,
Form:
Free verse
Stared into my black coffee and thought back to when he loved me an how he matched the hue of his heart. He was smooth just like hs messy sorta curly hair wrapped in a bandana. I take my coffee black because, the taste of creamer doesn't do it for my sweet tooth anymore, but at times my coffee resembles those caramel hazel eyes and the taste of his skin.
Just wanted this coffee to be him, but I don't add creamer to my coffee, but I added too much damn emotions and I couldn't find him in my coffee anymore. Now, these tears are puddles on the ground cause his image has faded out of my coffee just like the way he disappeared from my life when he found someone new.
Maybe he's the reason I take my coffee black and love it so much because, when I'm looking into caramel coffee it's like looking into his eyes. The pieces of him I've got are dying like the love affair he had with a troubled girl like me.
Categories:
stained, heart, i miss you,
Form:
Blank verse
It’s drawn on the back of a stained notepad ,
On a brown worn, torn paper leaf,
It’s drawn in pencil, that’d broken in half,
Showing the pain, the trouble and grief,
Showing years of tired hurt wounds,
Pushing out from the fear,
This drawing of what she owns inside her mind,
Smudged to vague, makes it clear,
That her smile is a vending machine,
A fabricated forgery, a fake,
Sent to conceal her pain away from the robots,
It hides her dazed blind ache,
And still, she paints her lips to a smile,
She paints to hide the sad,
The sad that can only be seen when it’s drawn,
All over the back of a pad.
Categories:
stained, confusion, lost love, meaningful,
Form:
Quatrain
Feeding the nestlings she came up an inch-worm too short.
Soggy ink-stained signs muttered in the rain.
The old cat caught the scent of a mouse.
A cat has nine lives, a frog croaks every night, but a rumor lives forever.
Freshly crushed coffee beans mellowed in the mist of sunrise.
The silence was shattered by the roar of a mosquito.
His voice was lost in the echoes of his anger.
The snake moved slowly over the hot stone massage.
The naked truth need not be covered up.
Categories:
stained, humor, word play, words,
Form:
List
This is not as such a written poem
This is more a heartfelt dedication
To those kind few who have taken time to place
Certain of my written poem's
Amongst there chosen favorite's
To those to whom I owe this debt of thanks
I do not have the breadth of knowledge
Opon which to express my untold gratitude
For if all I had merely just had to say
Was
Thank you,
Thanks
I beg your pardon if you do not bother
Another word of mine you read
If nothing more i have to offer
Rises above such praise and comment
As favorite placed
Because thank you and thanks
Doth not sum up nor convey
Your grace
You words illuminate like sunlight
Shining through Stain Glass Cathedral Windows
When all hope and faith is lost
And shadows cast
The final word is yours
That lauds me up
When life is pressing
The cavity abound my chest
And breath can not be bought
Your words propel
The gospel , according to
What you meant and did for me
So yours sincerely
Kind regards
You are also my Favorite 2
And probably countless others 2
Whom fate has placed in the path of you
Categories:
stained, hope,
Form:
Free verse
My stained glass image
was a ripe peach
with spilt Zinfandel
like electric rubies
pooling around a gentle ray.
It was a colour hungering
to weave spirit out of light,
so that all my prism
touched felt nothing
but the energy of day.
Then there was Love,
A star brighter than the sun,
halting Sol Invictus
and his fiery chariot
before Aphrodite’s temerity.
But Love’s luminosity burned
a fearful depth of heat
until all my eyes witnessed
was overexposed film
begging for clarity.
My stained glass design
mixed metallic salts
fortified at melting point,
colour forever permanent
to mark my very being.
You dipped your brush
on a pallet of your vision
and Trust let you paint over
my very soul,
creamy light forever fleeing.
Your paint, by the very nature
of it belonging to you,
curator of my love,
fused to my glass
as if cooked in a kiln of fire.
Never could I have believed
you to devise a colour
so terrible and diseased
that sickness would filter
where light used to transpire.
Stained glass window,
more true the words appear,
But where others fear
I can shatter my own
glass or heart or soul
and clean the tarnish
by leaving out every piece
you painted with twisted stroke
and amass myself together
until the colour of my light is whole.
Categories:
stained, lost lovelight, light,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I dreamed of light..
To fall..
A window..
To reflect..
Filled with colour
Filled with nature
A breathtaking sight
To capture an age
Of a Queen and King
Eagles too
Stream of Sighs
Faeries with gossamer wings
A Heartstone, true
When dawn rose
The window glowed,
with soft light
Kings and Queens
Trees and birds
Stars from the night
The colour flowed
Sunlight pierced through
A stained glass window
In to world,
we both knew
I dreamed of light,
that filled a Shadowfire hall
Filled my heart with colour
I stood in the centre of it all
Categories:
stained, imagination, inspirational, uplifting, visionary,
Form:
Ballad