Best Topped Poems
~ A Storybook Princess ~
She dreams of princes, princesses and balls
A little girl on tippy-toes, not a meter tall
O, the frilly lace gowns she fashions
Stitched with threads of heartfelt passion
A little girl in dreamland enthralled
Daylight's full of pain, tests and probes
From her lower spine to her temporal lobe
Hair shorn, she bears it all with infinite patience
As they wheel her from station to station
For at night she's a storybook princess
No matter that in daylight she winces
Asleep, her bed's her castle, wedding-bell topped
Where dreams last forever, never stop
Entered in 'All Yours (Feb. '21) Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
guilty as charged
i stole it tall
every consonant
every vowel
every word
every sentence
plagiarized
the ocean
in its unique shades of blues and greens
combined and blended to create
its very own colour
a tint i call ocean brave
covered in water
topped off in water
surrounded by water
immersed in water
stunning
the ocean
plagiarized
the beach
in unique shades of beiges and whites
combined and blended to create
a brand new fabric
they call it whiskey white
a trillion grains
parts unknown
the total sum of all
unified to act as one
the beach
plagiarized
the cloud
in unique shades of this and that
combined and blended to create
mystery
spin the wheel if you wish
a blank pallet- blush
a perfectly complex complexion- luminous
coloured in soft and titillating to the touch- pigment
oh the touch- intense
light as air
immaculate
the cloud
plagiarized
the living
in unique shades of everything
combined and blended to create
a cornucopia of finishes, stains
combined and blended
the world of the living
with all its bells and whistles
the unmitigated
the undisputed overall
the living
plagiarized
guilty as charged
i stole it all
every consonant
every vowel
every word
every sentence
everything
i see
i feel
i invent
i write
everything
plagiarized
from just a glimpse of you
i am wonderfully, joyfully
sick in love and you are everything i do
guilty as charged
all of it
plagiarized
A Chicago Pearl
She put her dreams on hold but carries them up proudly
as she serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner, six days a week
to make ends meet; she’s a realist who doesn’t recoil from pain
or regrets; she faces them head on yet she likes the blues because
they soothe her bruised life that sometimes feels stagnant.
She awaits a new start and the rain in her head is held tight,
she will not be defined, nor resign herself to scattered dreams.
She hangs firm in her mind to these blooming flowers she saw in a terra cotta
pot on her way to work this morning; like them she’s growing stronger
in her voice and in her step. Tonight they’ll light candles
in the dark
“You’re a Chicago Pearl, Rondja!”
he said as she topped his coffee cup;
she briefly held his gaze, and then
let out the broadest of smiles.
There is a place called beautiful nestled deep in my mind's eye
Gingham curtains crisply pressed frame periwinkle summer sky
Brass kettle on the old gas stove reflects cast iron pans
And always at the kitchen sink, I see busy, wrinkled hands.
There is a place called beautiful, I'm transported with a whiff
Of coffee brewing, dark and strong, I long to take a sip.
And in the air a trace of Tollhouse cookies baked this morn
And some perfume that only in this special spot is worn.
There is a place called beautiful I hear in perfect dreams
As Frankie croons and Louis wails all whilst the kettle steams
And as she works, she never tires as she hums and sings along
But the harmony of her lilting laugh is by far my favorite song.
There is a place called beautiful, it tastes like sweetest creams
Made in a bucket with a crank til her arms wore out, it seems
And topped with juicy berries that would burst upon each bite
And juices stained my mouth and clothes most every summer night.
There is a place called beautiful, I long to feel again
The naive sense that everywhere was as safe and free of sin
Where love and peace were daily served with a kiss upon the cheek
And grandma's kitchen always felt like you just found what you seek.
4/9/2019 / Poetry Marathon Final Placement / Sponsor: Mark Toney
Today for lunch I dined on some Tex-Mex cuisine,
jalapeno topped enchiladas and refried beans;
a favorite here in Texas, that can’t be denied,
but this afternoon I am battling the fire inside.
Washed it down with a margarita and wedge of lime,
it was very soothing and delicious at the time.
It gave my head a little buzz and made me cross-eyed,
but now my gut is suffering from this fire inside.
I used to have no trouble eating this spicy food,
but now it causes burning in my stomach to intrude.
And yet I do not worry for in my desk does hide
a jar of Tums to relieve me from this fire inside.
November 7, 2017
Poem of the Day - November 8, 2017
Four kegs, they’d left on the rye field’s bare crest
gone were the skittles and the balls of wood.
Four kegs empty of magical brew, strewn
upon the hill’s breasts, where gnomes had stood.
They’d left long ago, twenty years today.
Here’d been a mountain, where now a farm stood.
They had left their tipple as each strike thundered
to lambaste lightning from stacked firewood.
On the rye field’s bare crest now shrouded in snow
beneath a Wedgwood sky, stood kegs of wood.
On the rye field’s bare crest each keg turned stone
marking the bones where rebels once stood.
Gone ‘till tonight, the gnomes and jack tars
until the moon’s magic topped the keg’s wood.
Gone till tonight were the hard balls and pegs
this night spirits would dance where we now stood.
Published 2017 by Illumen
Mustard colored ferns scattered on the hill
Scarlet leaves on branches hang over still
Green trees topped with color, passing by
I left questions behind, no wonders why
Things in life are not always right in place
I accept what is right in front of my face
A longing will stir, for things I have lost
Sometimes returning like a fallen frost
But even frost has beauty in the chill
Just as the memories, when I stand still
In the gratitude, for all that I shared
The warmth remains, from times you cared
There will always be colors and contrast
For the best is still seen in all that lasts
Heidi Sands
9/19/17
Placed 1st in the Standard Contest 165. Any form, any theme.
Mum’s
Baking
Pumpkin pie.
Light crisp pastry
Silky smooth topping
Adorned with pastry leaves
Topped with swirls of white whipped cream.
I start drooling; it’s so tempting
Our spoons are poised ready to tuck in
Oh how I adore autumn harvest time!
For love of October Contest
Sponsor – Andrea Dietrich
09~23~15
Perhaps not the Mountain -
Perhaps even not the lone hermit, atop said mountain...
sitting as still as tea leaves, left in their jar.
Perhaps not the Mountain.
So unneedful of needs.
Of deeds.
Now moving as imperceptibly, as slowly, as wakefully
as the ‘still’ tea leaves, damp on the saucer;
unfolding like mornings in morning’s new light.
Perhaps not the Mountain.
So unmindful of mind.
Of mankind.
Perhaps not the birds, resting in nooks in rookeries
by snow lines and greenlines.
Perhaps not the lizard or sheep,
one sharp-edged like the low-edges of shiftrock,
the other white-topped like lost-edge of the hightop.
Perhaps not the leopard, rare as the swear
from the hermit; still stretching...
out her morning.
Perhaps none know the mountain
is a slow wave
of Earth.
A Slow Wave
come crashing
so slowly into
shallower Earth.
A great primeval upheaval.
He walks into the bar
Like a movie star
With swagger
Out pouring the lager
Topped by a mop
Of such mythical proportion
It hushes the crowd
With its absorption
More adorn
Than a unicorn
Waving a pompadour
As big as a brontosaur
9/3/2019
Swagger Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
One of the first to land, it took me by surprise
because bright sunrays glowed behind an ashen cloud.
Upon the glass-topped table, right before my eyes
this tiny pearl of wonder came to me, avowed
its army, made of millions, soon would override,
to smother every garden, grassland, bushes, trees.
It warned me to seek shelter, quickly run inside
before the fast, relentless force drove in to seize.
Its shiny dome reflected darkness from the sky.
How long had it been falling till it landed here?
The first to make it through, the siege to verify,
my messenger, a raindrop, braved the atmosphere
and warned me to take cover, quickly run and hide,
'fore army, made of millions, drowned the countryside.
Sandra M. Haight
~3rd Place~
Contest: The Raindrop
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Judged: 11/25/2018
Sonnet, written in Iambic Hexameter
12 syllables, 6 feet per line
Clement weather is often just my dream.
I don’t mind wispy white clouds way up high,
or marshmallow ones topped with whipping cream.
Alas, brooding nimbus are drawing nigh,
I yearn for azure skies and one sunbeam!
Raindrops fall, I hear them pitter-patter,
then hail stones bounce upon my brand new car.
I daren’t go outside and watch them batter
my garden, too. Ice storms are so bizarre
and their crashing makes such a loud clatter!
Rain still teems down, it’s been pouring for hours.
Where’s the warm sunshine, and vivid rainbow?
Torn to shreds will be my lovely flowers,
trellis of sweet peas, just starting to grow.
How I loathe these sudden April showers!
Dark clouds start to lift, a rainbow appears.
Sun’s peeking through a minute patch of blue.
Prisms of colour, I’ve so adored for years.
I’ll venture out to get a better view
for such a welcomed sight moves me to tears
Lady, weave Your circle tight
With a web of living light
Earth and Air and Fire and Water
Bind us to you.
MacDermot, the Prince of Coolavin came
to Connachta a fair maiden to win,
as the maypole rose a redhead proclaimed,
that to marry him, her heart was aflame;
so life comes again with a slow spin.
The pole is lifted and she beribbons him;
merry as their red and white ribbons crossed
wedded like wefts in the weave of the Lord's skein.
MacDermot the Prince was right chivalrous.
How the town folk of Sligo laughed and danced
each youthful suitor had bells on their shoes.
Eight at a time the couples round pranced
every Da's hoped his daughter to loose.
But, Meg the red had a mind to seduce,
and the Prince, well the Prince, was Goddess crossed.
Meg's lips were wine and he had but those two;
MacDermot the Prince was right chivalrous.
White for the virgin each Goddess blessed
red for the God of the green woods so old
green ribbons the forest, gold's sun's tressed
all twirl round the royal wreath topped Maypole.
Blessed is the tree, with honors foretold
as maids and masters their ribbons criss-crossed
while the Prince MacDermot held Meg; they strolled.
MacDermot the Prince was right chivalrous.
The Rune Inguz was read, they blessed all holds
and the grand green hills were bereft of frost
for spring was here and their vows were told.
MacDermot the Prince was right chivalrous.
She was the smallest of all the angels
although all the other angels were at
least five feet tall,
Susie the angel was no larger than a Barbie doll.
She was by far the cutest of all the Angels
but little Susie was a little sad this Christmas Season.
She had wings that's for sure, so she could reach
the top of Christmas trees but the toppers
were always too heavy which made Susie sad.
She spoke to the other Angels about it
of course they all offered to help her.
Susie explained she was thankful
but she really wanted to do it on her own.
That's when it happened Susie
right then and there became the first
Angel to shed a tear.
She had turned so no one saw,
but Susie felt badly.
The next day while alone Susie
thought of her troubles and it happened
again, except this time it was many tears.
"Wait" Susie thought "my tears sparkle".
So she thought more about her sadness.
More and more tears flowed.
That is when Susie realized this was all meant to be.
The next morning Susie visited her favorite homes
as she flew over the trees and spread her tears.
From that day on their were changes.
All Christmas trees would sparkle with
the glitter of Susie's magic.
Susie wasn't sad at all she wasn't even crying.
She had been picked to be the Christmas Angel.
The one that made all trees sparkle.
Now Susie no longer worried about placing toppers.
To honor Susie changes were made to Christmas trees.
They were topped with a star that resembled her tears
or a small Angel just like Suzie, one that made
the whole tree glitter.
02~12~2014
Sponsor: Carol Eastman
Contest Name: Children's Christmas or Holiday Tale
Trying to recapture the joy of those winter days is difficult. School cancelled: sun shining through the sheer, white, curtains into an all too girlie room, the sound of a tea kettle's whistle, the ice cold feeling of oak boards on bare feet, between scatter rugs; I ran to the kitchen. The transistor radio sounded, still calling out school closings. The snow sifted down.
bright sun
sparkles on snowflakes –
the plow roars
Quick phone calls, punctuated with giggles, roused a gaggle of neighborhood girls. White skates in hand, I burst out the door. I rushed toward the swampy area behind the neighbor’s house. My rubber boots crunching crust above the powdery fluff. At the edge of the watery wood, I stood staring. Boys, I see the boys in there. They have their skates on already. Tommy Maloney, my crush, skated toward me.
his black waves
dusted with snow –
whoops of delight
A hummock of snow-topped grass served as a seat. I removed my boots from beneath the zip sides of snow pants and try to tie laces new white skates. Once done I stood wobbling, weak-ankled. Tommy laughs, as knock-kneed I attempt a glide toward him falling on my butt. Oh how his eyes sparkled, an Irish rogue at twelve. Kneeling, Tommy began to re-lace my skates. I remember wishing, so much, he would kiss me.
First Contemporary haibun online Fall 2013
Published in Winter Legends 2014