Best These Poems
These eyes have often been solaced
by twilight's cotton candy pllows moving silently
towards a sky's velveteen blanket
and angels'silver gowns
By gazing over hills
to where old country church bells
and crickets play harmonious sounds
These eyes have often been solaced
by honey coloured shadows
pouring moonlight zest
across the rose plum of my cheek
By little antique lamplights
which illuminate my soul 's dark cobbled street
By winds carrying sea-salts to a fragrant golden sand
By tides washing out corals to a distant land
These eyes have often been solaced by your return
to this vacant room inside my heart
By the hush hushed whisper of your voice
By the embrace of your arms
By the way you love me
By the way you need me
By the way you want me
Like an autumn bonfire
before next sunrise'dew fall
By the way you lean on me
I remember living quietly inside these red brick walls,
a soul, wandering alone through those dark, empty halls,
this is the place where I used to rest my weary head,
now you, another poetic heart, are dreaming here instead.
I was just a poet, a soul like you, so do not be afraid,
this is where I once lived, and this is where I stayed,
I want to whisper my secrets to you, late after midnight,
just hear my faded words, and I will remain out of sight.
There was a lonesome time when I wrote poetry, too,
now I am here, to be your muse and inspire you,
100 years ago, I lived on the other side, only now,
I dwell just behind these red brick walls, somehow.
(A sequel to my poem, "These Red Brick Walls")
I recall fond memories of happy childhood days
When life was so much simpler in oh so many ways
As children we played outdoors and had so much fun
No tempting computer games, just pure fresh air and sun!
We’d make a wish as we blew on fluffy dandelion clocks
and build enormous sandcastles in my yellow sandbox
I can’t believe how fast each day is whizzing by
As a child they went slowly, as I age how they fly!
I’m now approaching the autumn years of life
blessed to be a mother and a beloved wife
My son is just amazing - he’s simply the best
But my house feels empty since he flew the nest
Some days aren’t easy, they can be very challenging
But on reflection, I wouldn’t change a single thing
I know my days are limited, who knows when life will end
I’ll make the most of every one, on that you can depend
Days Contest Sponsored By Daniel Turner
Poem Inspired by ‘These are the days of our life’ By Queen
6/4/18
Blue –
for your arm wrapped around
my clavicle. I thought
I would loose my breath.
Red –
for the cusp of our hip bones
struggling to pull the drunken color
from our orange cheeks.
and our sweat, our sweat, our sweat
evaporating
in the drenched summer air.
Our pants futile afterthoughts
Left crumpled on the floor
It is here I asked for your respect
And you filled me with it.
Orange –
for the musk smell of our blanket den. I would watch the way dawn light
speckled your shoulders, pale, white-blue
Iridium.
I would trace the ink
of your skin, fingertip hovering a half inch
from your bone.
Green –
for how my name would hesitate
on your breath in brief puffs
like dandelion seeds blown from
My wistful lips when I was
eleven
waiting for them to bring back my wish.
Black –
for my sleeveless dress, as we strolled from
your father’s funeral.
It was the only time I watched you cry.
There were little holes in the cement sidewalk.
They filled with rain, oil
And your tears.
I watched your face change through
their watery colored reflections.
Pink –
for the way your skin repels from my
Touch, quivers as though my finger-
print were a red hot poker.
You haven’t allowed me to touch you
In a year.
Purple –
for the color of her font, as she responds to you. It is an eager
Color. She responds with all the passion of an Eskimo kiss.
You left her waitng..always.
I have been special to you,
she replies to your
overtures.
Her letters
Who blush
like a maid
Who’s felt the hot moist
whisper of something naughty
tickle against her ear lobe.
White –
for the way your eyes punch accusations
sharper then your razor tongue.
They spit
blue crackled lightening,
like an angry alley cat.
My words cannot reach you here.
You will leave.
We will divide our booty
Words that once held my name like a piece
Of carefully folded origami
now hiss cold
devoid like the plaster of our empty room.
Grey-
for the morning
now knocking on my window.
I am livid in my withdrawal, tossing and turning
I can find no comfort
in
the tangle of these vacant sheets.
Sensuous allures float in pulchritude of white swan
Upon your lotus pond, arousing visions of romance
As I see you there where pink blossoms dance
And kiss your presence in ambiance of golden dawn.
Nary a cloud foreshadows my blue sky of tomorrow
As primrose emotions evoke blossoms of meadows;
In emerald green terrain, there are no dark shadows
For memories of yesteryear bear no hints of sorrow.
You entice ruby moods applauding crimson hues
Cheering for our love in chrysanthemum flowers,
Bright red tulips, soft pink roses, and spring rain showers
As ode of desires muses love-verses you schmooze.
And you sparkle gemstones from prisms of tinted dew
Igniting passions within whiffs of scented breeze
Caressing my wishes in embrace of seductive tease,
Instinctively aware: how these arms long to hold you!
September 24, 2019
Placed 1st: Pick a title, vol. 9-enclosed rhyme poetry contest
Title chosen: These arms long to hold you
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Placed 3rd: Strand 660 contest by Brian Strand
Two owls charmed me
moments before I embarked
on the hours of industry to come.
Their silhouettes were dark and secretive,
their voices wistful and low.
I had a moment only to be soothed
with no thought to the truer meaning,
sinister and cruel,
of their flight from industry to come.
Mere yards from where I sleep
the tree has grown large
much like its older cousin
mere yards from where I brood.
The loeries return
to a place that may once have been theirs,
and they speak with voices
almost as those of children.
They charm me as the owls.
In the small fertile garden
among acres of mortar and stone
and grass largely ignored,
I may see with fortune
the frog that enchants me,
the spider that does not much haunt me,
the serpent that surely does.
The Indian myna, relentless, imperious,
will not be denied.
The idiosyncrasies, kind and mean,
gave them form and breath and motion,
and domain, before our domain.
26th July 2018
Whose voices, whose memories are these
That warble in trees, exalting my breeze
Applauding the daybreak's cerulean grin
Where amber ocher designs are floating in
Is that your echo from the cobalt blue sky
Wondering aloud about dawn's tepid sigh
As the morning evoked destiny's knowhow
And birdsongs lauded the blessings of now
When rays of romance in day's golden start
Painted my vistas, charming your heart
A smile you adorned on the saddles of arc
Reminiscent of the past, igniting my spark
I recognize the appeal your passions reveal
In intimate presence that meadows feel--
From way back when in allure of moonlight
Sensuous lips we kissed of an indelible night
Though it was love, it was never expressed
And those feelings afire never got blessed
So they arise to voice what could have been
Augmenting the dialogue of battles within
April 21, 2019
Poem of the week for the week beginning 4/28/2019
Placed 2nd:What was left unsaid contest by Line Gauthier
HM: Your choice (5) contest by Brian Strand
They crumble like confetti,
These little poems I write,
One letter on each tiny scrap,
They blow into the night.
To tickle the toes of a passing star,
And burn with its out-crying,
Ashes to float in the atmosphere,
Over-heating there expiring.
And then they will like angel dust
Fly through space for a million years,
‘Til one day (for they are never gone)
A hand clutches a fist full and holds it dear.
It will rearrange those particles glowing,
In the shape of its futuristic soul,
For there will always be a working bard,
So long as lovers stroll.
Which sunrise is most spectacular?
Which blue sky is bluest?
Are there words in my vernacular,
To express which love is truest?
For love is like a jewel rare,
With many facets, sides,
Which side sparkles more, compare,
In which side does more beauty hide?
Which miracle is more miraculous?
Which happiness holds more joy?
Which one is more marvelous?
Which does one most enjoy?
For each one is amazing,
Each dazzles in our eyes,
As though we stand there gazing,
At starlight in the skies;
And you are just like all these things.
You are beyond compare,
A blessing sent on angel's wings,
You're like a treasure, rare;
For nowhere is there one like you.
You're unique, one of a kind.
God had one thought when He made you.
You were all that was on His mind.
This is what the wicked are like— always free of care, they go on amassing wealth. Surely in vain I have kept my heart pure and have washed my hands in innocence ~ Psalm 73:12-13
A wise man long ago bemoaned the thought
that those who seek the paths of righteousness
so often struggle mightily. Their lot
seems only to be wreathed in hopelessness.
Meanwhile, the wicked reap rich dividends
while disregarding others' poverty -
they'll use whatever means may suit their ends,
neglecting justice, love, humility.
Believers know "these three remain" to guide
up peaks appearing insurmountable:
Faith is that trust in Him who walks beside;
Hope is that blessed wealth uncountable;
and Love, which guides us to eternity -
For "God is love", the greatest of the three.
These red brick walls have stood for nearly 100 years,
they have seen and absorbed happiness and tears,
if these walls could talk, just imagine what they could say,
a lifetime of cherished memories have not faded away.
I wonder, if 100 years from now, will I still be around,
maybe a part of my secrets will be waiting to be found,
my written words are embedded in the room where I slept,
all of those midnight thoughts and dreams will be here kept.
The window that brought new inspirations into my soul,
and the closed door that opened to my heart's empty hole,
from the wooden boards of the floor and up to the ceiling,
these walls of red bricks hold secrets that need revealing.
Locked up, shackled, tied down and chained
Feeling empty, exhausted, used up and drained
Your heart unsettled with its flickering flame
Probing for answers in life's little game
I hear your cries echoing into the dark night
I could tell you everything will be alright
I feel your big lonely heart splitting apart
I could say I'll give your heart a fresh start
I hear your words begging to stop the blues
I could say I will be your knight and rescue you
I hear the tremble in your voice when you speak
I could tell you I'd hug you and kiss your cheek
These eyes don't lie, I'll probably never be with you
My tears fall knowing there is nothing more I can do
The beauty in these words
Rainbows o’er the valley, vibrant colors on the hill
Coconut and apple pies now cooling on the sill
A warm day in November as if fall has turned to spring
Hummingbirds and butterflies and cardinals on the wing
A picnic in the meadow out beneath an old oak tree
Picking out the different shapes in all the clouds we see
A garden filled with flowers blooming every shape and size
A cool breeze ever flowing neath the bluest azure skies
A pathway through a forest that the two of us explore
The rhythm of the ocean waves a’ crashing on the shore
A choir singing on the square as snow falls from the sky
The sound of ringing sleigh bells as it slowly passes by
A chocolate covered sundae with sweet cherries on the top
The windmill spinning on the farm that never seems to stop
Every single star we see a’ twinkling on the night
An April morning sunrise oh so wonderful and bright
A Sunday morning journey through a park that we will walk
Some quiet conversations as we find some time to talk
A cozy roaring fire on the coldest winter day
A sailboat on the ocean that shall take our hearts away
The beauty in these words I write are just my point of view
Of all the wondrous things I dream each time I dream of you
Everything that’s perfect and of all that it can be
These and so much more are what your love it brings to me
Good night Soupers
My beloved...
Continious are these thoughts of you
Like undying winds and endless seas
Eternal gardens are my nights
between half moons ,still stars and skies
Sleepless are my dreams
In dreams I travel far to a distant land
In dreams I take you to my world,I let you hold my hand
The land of Oz I give to you,your spirit I'll excite
This fairyland of rainbow hues,I share it too
This fertile land that exists only in my mind
I kiss away the joyless rain ,and bring to you the sun
In fields of evergreen We'd lay,On milky sands barefoot we run
We'll ride the tide,and live oncemore
the forgotten presence of yesterdays
We recall moments of hearts once young
Of sweet songs played by nightingales.