Best Stoles Poems
Magazines and jewelry
Nothing shows your age faster
I see a broach and think “That is from the 40’s or 50’s.”
Mink stoles were from the 30’s to sixty’s depending on the style.
Mushroom canister sets excite my 1970’s self.
Teenage movie magazines from the 50’s and 60’s
are easy to recognize.
The disco stuff with the faux fur vests and
tight striped pants for men. 80’s.
I look at old magazines from the 60’s and
I know most of the players.
Maybe all of them.
I recognize Dr. Martin Luther King, Jacque O and Marilyn for sure.
Lucy and Desi, Tab Hunter and Natalie Woods.
Pink cars? From the 50’s and 60’s probably.
Turquoise cars? Not as easy.
Turquoise cars made a comeback in the 90’s.
But the style might help.
It used to be I could name the year of any car
built from 1955 through 1980.
I doubt I could do that anymore.
Having moved on to other interests.
The Checker and the Mercury Marquis do not count.
They never wavered much from their own status quo.
I visit antique stores and smile.
Recognizing things from my childhood.
Everything from my childhood is in an antique store including me.
I feel totally fine about it. It is the natural order of life.
"Hey, isn't that what's his name?" Uh-oh.
winter serenade
winter serenade
frozen crystal melodies ~
red cardinal chants
leafless boughs sing out
arias of roaring storms ~
snowdrops harmonize
blasts of icy frost
chanting plaintive elegies ~
daphne flowers bloom
short days intone night
with a solstice lullaby ~
fir trees wear white stoles
shadows of springtime
creep into amber twilights ~
bears snore rhythmic dreams
1-18-23
Syllables checked with www.howmanysyllables
In Dickensian time
Upon sunset hour
Overshadowing Thames
Is London Tower
Blackened cobble streets
Shimmer in the rain
Big Ben at Westminster
Chimes an eight bells refrain
At Euston Station
A passenger alights
On Platform 3
And enters the caff
for a nice cup of tea
At the local tavern
Behind steamy windows
The opportunists sit
Gleaning local gossip
Ever watchful to ensnare
Any hapless stranger
come wandering there
Covent Garden
still well lit
As lamplighters
carry out their remit
Striding with ladders
about old London town
With a cheery wave
and a purposeful frown
Patrolling policemen
in forbidding places
Echoing footfalls
as boots make paces
A courting couple shelters
under the arches
Oblivious to passerby's
and dray cart horses
A hackney driver cracks his whip
As high stepping hooves
on cobbles clip
From Westminster
stove pipe hatted M.P.s from
parliament sitting
enter a members club
to continue their
political discourses
unremitting
Mudlark urchins ankle deep
in moonshine glow
watch chugging steam boats
along the Thames flow
Billingsgate Market's
straw boated and
stripe aproned men
are found sluicing
with brooms in hand
the blood drenched ground
Along the West End thoroughfares
Come wealthy patrons
in open carriages with lantern flares
wearing evening attire
Bejewelled ladies in fanciful frocks
And around bare shoulders
Stoles of mink and silver fox
They ascend the red carpeted stairs
And look towards the royal box
A pretty young street seller
of violets and roses
with straw basket on hip
proffers up the scented poses
A peasouper fog blankets from
Thames to chimney tops
As a trader hooks his shutters down
Outside his haberdashery shop
Across London Bridge the East End rabble
Trail homeward to Hackney, Bethnal Green
and Whitechapel
From an open pub door
streams a music hall tune
played on an accordion
in a crowded tap room
Wending amongst the walkers
in the Strand
run beggarly children
with outstretched hand.
And......
Charles Dickens
walks the streets
at night
taking note
of every sight.
Uncontrollable frenzy the moment I set out for the wool market
Ecstatic madness losing the teeny heart to bagfuls of double knit
Every year newer hues and textures in my over loaded box beds do warmly fit
My soul flies to the heavens on their strings as I knit in love, purl out pain, crafting
Intricate cable patterns on cuddly baby frocks, scarves, stoles, capes, and afghans
January 1, 2016
Contest : Wool
Sponsor: C. T.
Dark clouds creeping
slowly placing gnarled hands
around the throat of an innocent summer day
squeezing and holding tight
until the life of blue and gold lies
...silently in a heap of a July afternoon
silence the birds and cover up the shades of blue
spread the clock of blackness and take hostage
the lovely lady who stoles across the landscape
throw down her roses and her breezes
strike her with the lightening and the thunder
as in the setting sun she weeps...
When the oaks wrap themselves in patchwork stoles
and from umber trunks, crimson gems ignite,
the love for Autumn's fire burns in our souls.
A frosty, pumpkin sunrise brings to light,
magnificent arrays of hues so bright.
Oh! The spectacle Mother Nature's made!
She throws confetti; Autumn on parade.
Amber smiles meet with cinnamon kisses;
spiced, hot apple cider for Sirs and Dames.
Through saffron fields, stroll Misters and Misses
on their way to homecoming football games;
Alumni cheering around bonfire flames.
Fun with family, old friends and neighbors.
Ginger my senses; warm Autumn flavors.
09/07/2017
Contest: Autumn Rhyme Royal
Sponsor: Dale Gregory Cozart
Masks have different
kind.
To know their motive,
no one can find.
Carefulness,prudent,knowledge
and wisdom
are require in any
kingdom.
Stoles put on
Creator's mask.
Present prophet
Elijah,who preach
to gain
power,praise,money
and bask.
They live different
from their speech.
Demons come under
smiling mask
to accomplish their
wicked task;
destruction,distraction,contortion,
too difficult to know
that they're
convolution.
So also dirty lover.
Who was considered
as one's apple.
They caress,hug,kiss
and hover.
But only incubus and
succubus people.
Which masks are
employees putting.
Are they working or
waiting?
Inernia,lethargy,forty
winks and lazybones,
are these not their
dones?
The books and pens
feel lexicographers .
Putting on masks of
burning midnight
candles.
Destined for
doctors,actors,lawyer,bankers
and geographers.
But at last,merit to
have f-9 in bundles.
Which mask are you
wearing,
or do your face often
appear as made?
Ability,nature,feeling
and worrying,
how do you show
these grade'?
VILLANELLES IV
She Always Grew Roses
by Michael R. Burch
a belated eulogy for my grandmother, Lillian Lee
Tell us, heart, what the season discloses.
“Too little loved by the ego in its poses,
she always grew roses.”
What the heart would embrace, the ego opposes,
fritters away, and sometimes bulldozes.
Tell us, heart, what the season discloses.
“Too little loved by the ego in its poses,
she loved nonetheless, as her legacy discloses—
she always grew roses.”
How does one repent when regret discomposes?
When the shadow of guilt, at last, interposes?
Tell us, heart, what the season discloses.
“Too little loved by the ego in its poses,
she continued to love, as her handiwork shows us,
and she always grew roses.”
Too little, too late, the grieved heart imposes
its too-patient will as the opened book recloses.
Tell us, heart, what the season discloses.
“She always grew roses.”
The opened-then-closed book is a picture album. The season is late fall because it was in my autumn years that I realized I had written poems for everyone in my family except Grandma Lee. Hopefully it is never too late to repent and correct an old wrong.
Little Sparrow
by Michael R. Burch
for my petite grandmother, Christine Ena Hurt, who couldn’t carry a note, but sang her heart out with great joy, accompanied, I have no doubt, by angels
“In praise of Love and Life we bring
this sacramental offering.”
Little sparrow of a woman, sing!
What did she have? Hardly a thing.
A roof, plain food, and a tiny gold ring.
Yet, “In praise of Love and Life we bring
this sacramental offering.”
“Hosanna!” angel choirs ring.
Little sparrow of a woman, sing!
Whence comes this praise, as angels sing
to her tuneless voice? What of Death’s sting?
Yet, “In praise of Love and Life we bring
this sacramental offering.”
Let others have their stoles and bling.
Little sparrow of a woman, sing!
“In praise of Love and Life we bring
this sacramental offering
as the harps of beaming angels ring.
Little sparrow of a woman, sing!”
Keywords/Tags: villanelle, villanelles, refrain, roses, angel, angels, sparrow, sacrament, sacramental, family, grandmother, heart, ego, season, seasons, legacy, elegy, eulogy, remember, remembrance
Winter birches in stoles of rime
Shiver in the mist and gently chime
Balderdash and buttonholes
Are they wearing real mink stoles?
Reminds me of the days of trolls.
As I say this my eye rolls.
My silly side lives in the drolls.
Are those horses with their foals?
Where are the sanitary bowls?
Balderdash and buttonholes
This poem has grown a nose that rolls.
I want to stoles a few love
While you give view
Your view is view of god
While you viewed
Every dream come true
And my emotion touch the stars
I know you only do
Shower of love flower
Your smile spread love
Like a melodious rhyme
My dream my rise move
Around your beautiful eyes
While you viewed may be my luck rise
And you become my life dream
For whole life
POET-ANURAG SHARMA
ADDRESS- DG-1 FLAT NO 27B
VIKAS PURI NEWDELHI-110018 INDIA
MO-8743082486, EMAIL- draditiadi@rediffmail.com