Best Streamlet Poems
The Hidden Nature Trail
While I was hiking one soft summer morn
beside a streamlet flowing through a dale,
I found a narrow nestled path unworn
which led me down a hidden nature trail.
I walked amongst the pine trees standing tall
along the hidden trail their shadows cast;
I heard a song bird chirp his mating call,
and reminisced sweet moments from my past.
The hidden path meandered far and near
and ended by a pond of sapphire blue
with splashing birds and water crystal clear,
and sirens bathing in the morning dew.
I wonder was this but a reverie,
or is it just my secret fantasy?
November 24, 2023
Elaelana- A Nymph In the Forest
Inspired by Charles Amable Lenoir's painting, "A Nymph In the Forest"
Pronunciation:
Elaelana; Eh-lee-LAY-nuh,
Naphesai; Nah-feh-SIGH,
Mylesia; My-lee-SEE-uh
Elaelana, forest goddess, kneels beside the water lilies
Picking dainty, gem-like flowers to adorn her crown of hair;
Borrowed gems from Naphesai, her lovely sister of the daisies,
Flow'rs that thrive in shady woodlands, by the streamlet floating there.
Dressed for nymphean starlit dances in a dress of flowing creamrose;
Flawless slender arms upraised to rearrange the sable strands
Trailing from her Grecian features, pearly white against the gleamrose
Of silent lips, a little pressed, like rosebuds' tightknit ruby bands.
Ready now, so tall and stately, shadowlike drifts thro' the forest,
Joined at length by Mylesia, and her sister, Naphesai:
Elaelana, Mylesia, Naphesai, the sweetest, fairest
Threesome ever seen or heard that sang the nymphish lullabies.
A streamlet falls into a lake
as mist do the cherry blossoms make.
The Mill wheel wouldn't turn until the Spring.
Covered in ice from the frigid Winter freeze,
no production until the ivory dove does sing.
The town wondered what nature would bring,
so no one walked around with reposed ease.
The streamlet was frozen and along the shore
they found messages in bottles from the past.
Some had never seen anything like this before.
Whispers ran through the town from door to door,
and the meanings of these messages were asked.
No one spoke truth about these strange words,
they all denied knowing about them in fear.
Shaken up by this calamity the town was stirred,
they were told their messages would be unheard.
Just then a loud noise approached from near.
Ice melts, revealing secrets- wheel creaks
though the upcoming Spring hadn’t yet arrived.
Everyone stops in silence and no one speaks,
the snow stops falling and the ivory dove shrieks-
Lightning strikes the Mill wheel, and no one survived.
One, nine, sixteen v3.0 Poetry Contest
July 20, 2019
I cannot put you into rhyme
You would refuse to go there
Having once said, “If you can describe love . . . . It isn’t”
And you are the same
I cannot dress you in words and do you justice
Adjectives fall upon themselves in the effort
And metaphors mumble in confusion
While searching for comparisons
Because you were the source of it all
All things must be compared to you
And beauty should have bowed when you passed
Your smile was never like the sunrise
Rather, the sunrise imitated your smile
And when I saw stars reflected in your eyes
The stars were made more beautiful
Some men are correct to offer the compliment
“You look beautiful in that dress”
That was inappropriate with you and I would gasp
“That dress looks beautiful on you”
The standard of all things lovely lived in you
And with a glance the sister nymphs danced
And all was well in the kingdom of my soul
And so it is now . . . . now that you are gone
When leaves whisper about the wind
I know they gossip of why I walk alone
Why my arm reaches for the empty space beside me
And crickets spread rumors across the night
Even the streamlet frog grunts his agreement
Because without you all things beautiful
Depend upon each other for definition
And grow lonely in the task
And I am composed of memories, nothing more
Repeating them like butterflies going home
One night returning home from the marketplace
Street lights suddenly went out.
I could see the road curving in the headlight of my car.
After driving for some time ,I reached a place
By the side of a streamlet.
Yet there is no streamlet in my locality
Nor on the way from that market place to my home.
Confused I turned back but reached at another place.
This time by the side of a rill ,water hyacinth floated,
Some houses standing quietly in the darkness
On its other bank.
Again ,I failed to know where I was;
It seemed nature disguised herself in another garb.
Then, to my relief, in that lonely atmosphere
I saw some local youths loitering.
I asked them for directions to my locality.
One of them gave me directions of the routes
I should take
I resumed driving my car to the direction he indicated .
After driving some distance on the right turning roadway
I saw some women standing on the roadside
A pressure lamp placed before them.
Oh, a beautiful girl I saw among them !
She seemed like a maiden in an oasis
To a tired wayfarer who lost his ways in the desert.
I politely asked them for direction to my locality
Not sure, although told by those youths which direction to go.
One of them told me to go further till a crossroad
There to turn left and drive to find my locality.
I again drove my car.
Then the street lamps illuminated the dark street and I knew
The place where I was .
Oh, that was the place I frequented, and it
Not far from my locality.
I reached home, finally out of a big puzzle.
But I felt that night I had roamed to unknown places
Exotic in the darkness of the night .
It was an exciting experience .
25th April 2008
Good job you are doing
Not all of us appreciate that
Not all things are pleasant,but
We tired to praising you
We tired to hearing your prevarication promises
We tired to espying your unskillful actions
We tired to succeeding your phrases, "Avocado noise" "Butterfly skirt"
We tired to retaining your streamlet fears
We tired to practicing in your unvisionary hours
We tired to promulgating your name.
You are the government, indubitably
The government without care spirit,
Here,
we start to reminding you
We start to instructing you
We start to exhibiting you
We start to divulging your secrets
We start to modifying your plans
We start to weeping for you.
#EDM.
Gentle is the touch of breeze that makes its way
Through during the evening in these hot days.
I sit in a web chair under the big oak's gaze,
Listening to the mockingbirds sing; giving praise.
Leaves streamlet soft light, dappled plays
on my lap, and dormant grass; rain we pray.
Like a butterfly in a maze of scent, my mind strays
To the day occurrence and memories, it displays.
7/5/2022
Closed my eyes
Walked a step
And I leaped across a streamlet
The beginning of my vagabond chapter
I brought my bag
And honestly, I didn't look back
Not even once
"Don't look back, don't look back"
Since you pushed me away
I had to drag myself out of your sight
Persuaded my ego to leave your wretched soul
While I delved into the new world
You pulled me back
Your jealousy showed me the worst of you
But I guess I have become immune with your pretentious sweet words
Prosaic and stern
Your words were obsolete
You've become a stranger each time I see you
Perhaps, leaving you is beneficial after all
amber clear streamlet-
water for whisky
The reverie carries a renown reflection, like a flowing streamlet with torrents of the tributary holding onto its memoirs. Pebbles surface the shore like a lover encompassing the tides of a fluent dream. An aria of a tune is flowing with a silhouette of raptured cascades. I am astounded by its resounding magnificence. The peaks of the mounts hold such freedom and astonishing admiration. They fear not the wind nor rain, sturdy as an unyielding ascension of glory.
creation’s marvel
pigments of nature’s beauty
breathtaking splendor
The azure skies are engraved with grace. They capture a moment in time that
only the Lord can create. I see nothing except the appeal of enticing magnetism. In the distance lies a chimera shadow of clouds leading to the abyss of heaven's gate. Monumental beauty and adorning refinement are portrayed. There is no fear for the wild, but devotion inside a piety of nature's bliss. I sense all things that bring overwhelming allure. Moments like this fascinate me beyond comprehension.
entranced by candor
unending moments of ease
beguiled charisma
May 7, 2018
Is it the cinders of hope?
Is it the life which wheezes unfailingly?
Is it the enduring ,crimson tears?
Is it the blue streamlet which sings
like the starry sea?
Is it the bloodstained rivulet which
whistles unflaggingly?
Is it a grey happiness?
Is it an unfettered joy of a moonless
eternity?
Is it the reddish star which streams a
green ink?
Is it the death which flutters its wings?
Is it the withered lily which shines
like the turbulent brook?
Is it the flaming hope of otherness?
\
I believe the most important thing
in our life is to love God
profoundly, our fellow man
unselfishly ,and Gods'
creatures unflaggingly.
I must have been three or may be four,
when Karen took me to the candy store.
My awesome older sister was she,
she’s was everything I wanted to be.
Her fun and silly ways I did adore.
A dollar from the tooth fairy to spend,
to shell it out with Karen I did intend.
I didn’t care what I would love to buy,
for she had always been my ally.
She helped raise me; my best friend.
I picked out elephant ears so sponge like,
you know the orange candy for lil’ tikes?
They would melt in my mouth so sweet,
my favorite ever sugar candied treat!
Then we went right back to our bikes.
She wanted me to see the broken bridge
where the reverie met the streamlet ridge.
It was there we caught frogs and let them go,
I danced on the shoreline too and fro.
There was mud on me just a little smidge.
I remember this day for all its affection,
and when Karen died I held onto this reflection.
I’ll never forget that day during my youth,
the best day of my life, that is the truth.
We shared a deep bond, a rare connection.
ANY RHYME FORM - AN EARLY CHILDHOOD MEMORY
Line Gauthier
April 21, 2018
With utmost impassioned heartfelt clasp
He drew her to him with hot grasp
Dipped and consumed yet cheeks aflame
Rapid streamlet of fire found way
Blazed hearts knew not night or day
A flush with feelings she couldn’t name
It was pain, pleasure, joy intense
Neither life nor death, men can sense
Love is not love till it's proclaimed.
+++++++
June 14, 2014
Form: Nove Otto
Dr. Ram Mehta
Contest: Light A Flame by nette onclaud
Standing up on this polished stone as
A bard once upon a time
In the utopian monarchy of my lonely thought
Sharping up the plight for its prime.
As an apostate of vice
On the face of the last dime,
Announcing to the world my departure
As a ci-devant scribe free of crime.
Of misgiving, I trumpeted via dichotomy of gore
Imbued as I may, silent and subversive
This ambient resembles the inner furor
Pure, hot, melting plasma and perverse
Gratitude for incensed horn in the hand of Isidore!
I have opened this door,
Bearing the downpour of gall,
Presumption full of venom in the mouth
Of a snake wrangling the past
That brings a constant surge of drought
In the life so rough that won’t last.
Give me the strength, for I have fought
A fane carved into stone, for I have known
Give me the pith of what I crave
Like falling feathers from the pillow of love
Where I have seen the maiden
Levitating in the forests of deep, and above.
I extent the space-time to moulder my soul
In the battle that my body won’t endure
But will in self-crucifixion enter the shoal
Of far-away lands, and of peace so pure.
I have chosen you, and given you the power
I awarded you with such a gift
Look at me with your marble blue eyes
The same way I looked at you
From down under, under the skies.
I cannot force the demons floating in the shadows,
I cannot untangle mysteries and secrets
Of innocent feelings, for I have spawn,
Sipping from this streamlet I call heart,
Here is a chalice to drink up from dusk till dawn.
That husky voice I held in my ears
Like the stairway of ascension into music
Into virtue, into solemn dream-world with no fears
Where I could touch the fingers again
Gently like the keys of an accordion
For ought I know, soft and round
Untangle this knot known as Gordian.
How our choices and paths lead to mysteries
How mysteries create despair,
I will kill the serpent on the horizon
And that will make it just and fair.