Best Tradition Poems

Dreams of India

Her music haunts me
in such a knowing way
it makes me weep
and causes my heart to ache.

I become homesick for her
scents, her sounds, her...

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Paint me blue like the sky
rainbow's smile; thunder's cry
clouded curtains rife with rain
till shroud is lanced and bluebirds fly again
     Wistful...

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I was put on the road of life without my consent. 
I was not conscious of who I was or of what I had to...

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When I think of India, I think of dark eyed beauties,
their foreheads painted with decorative red dots,
and I see them moving deliciously in beautiful bright...

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Underneath all the layers
Of tradition
Of religion 
Of philosophy
Of reason and understanding
I smolder
In passion's pleasure bed of red
Paroxysms of pleasure
Emanate from my core
Searing the shroud
Flames of...

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Don’t look at me
As though I am an alien or a stranger,
Don’t let the dagger of antipathy
Fly out of your eyes.

I am your neighbor.

Don’t call...

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Underneath all the layers
Of tradition
Of religion 
Of philosophy
Of reason and understanding
I smolder
In passion's pleasure bed of red
Paroxysms of pleasure
Emanate from my core
Searing the shroud
Flames of...

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Tradition and dress
A nations finesse
Symbolic in style
By a country mile
 
The drone of the pipes
Tartan clad
Bonnie on the girls
Proud on the lads
 
Highland dancers
In kilted...

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(The memories are simple, living the feeling significant)

After conquering Beamsley Beacon due Southwest,
Rombald’s moor stood, while for centuries
within the valley the minute dwellings
of grey stone,...

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She sat in her little cottage
Her ears tuned
Her body alive
Waiting…
Waiting for that knock on the door
Anytime now
She pulled back the frilly curtains
And peered out at...

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The burial ground,  groomed to greet
the gatherers of their love apocalypse
with garlands grown and sown
from the rose fire of Athena's throne,
on this day they...

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*Note:  A 60-year annual tradition that involved a mysterious visitor leaving three 
roses at the grave of writer Edgar Allan Poe on the anniversary...

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In the twilight spirits come to play,
listen closely to what they have to say.

In the early dawn, they will sit with you,
and greet the sun...

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No one understands the reason for living,
many prefer to receive without giving.
In a world full of selfish behaviour,
solitude has become my silent saviour.

Instruments are repressed...

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On our wedding he gave a crystal rose
Flowering forever, enrobed in glass
Ballerina's grace in delicate pose
Guardianship of tradition, of class

Witness of first years, of paper,...

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