Best Treasures Poems
I pull down from the shelf
The beautiful box of treasures
Ornately carved
Warm, yet well worn
To the gentle touch of my fingers
There is no rush
As I sit in this cosy spot
The sunlight of memory
Like a shaft of enlightenment
Beams onto my cheeks
There is a brass clasp
That silently releases the lid
Inset with filigree, blue and gold
My favourite colours
In my favourite pattern
The hinges release the air inside
Like a happy sigh
A hug of acceptance
As a valued friend visits
After life has carved out years of absence
My eyes closed, I reach inside..
I find the sound of laughter
Forest light streaming through the trees
Jewels of picnics and Spring days
Friends I have loved and lost
I find endless Christmases
Warm Summer gifts of love
Painted pictures from children
Smiles from unexpected messages
Or kind words that linger
I find weddings and food and dancing
Music and poetry and photographs, old and new
I remember the holding of many hands
Small, soft, pretty, all different
Some tired and wrinkly (my favourites)
I find emotions that I thought I had lost
All gathered in this precious box.
Placed carefully,
Never broken
Always perfect and personal
I am slightly overwhelmed
(it happens sometimes)
For now, the tears can stay outside
As I close the lid, replace the clasp
Until the next time
Life's valued treasures, I hold most dear,
the ones that dwell deep within my heart.
There's a special memory from younger days
that I will share with you, and fondly impart.
When I think as far back as I can, I remember,
there was only one special thing I ever wanted ~
A big white horse, with flowing mane and tail.
I rode him every night; in dreams, he haunted.
Christmas wishes never came true for me
because you see, my family was rather poor,
but on a December morning, when I was ten
there was a loud knock upon our door.
Dad looked at me and said, "I think it's for you."
He took my hand and gently guided me outside.
Before I saw the surprise, I heard a gentle neigh,
and stood in disbelief, my eyes opened wide.
I remember that I cried, but I couldn't speak.
When Dad lifted me to the leather saddle
I whispered "Thank you," and kissed his cheek.
I was sitting on my dream horse, legs astraddle.
No fancy dolls or dress up things appealed to me.
I had what my heart desired and named him Knight.
I told him all my secrets as we rode hills and fields,
mane and tail flowing, coat shining in the sunlight.
August 5th, 2020
Sponsor: Constance La France
Dusty Old Memories Poetry Contest
Gifts of stuffed toys make my special child
delight vibrantly in freedom bliss
as he cuddles them joyously
to create magical time of beautiful wonders
transforming his bed into marvelous haven.
Awesome bonding moments
grasp him around fellowship with his friends:
soft monkey, furry ape, smooth dog,
huggable bear, silky dinosaur
bringing sheer laughter of amazement-joy.
With sign language and gestures of care
he attends to them in his relaxation time
midst roll-call they understand
as he lines them up in his organized manner
expecting for their presence.
In his mirth-filled grin
he picks them up one by one
conscious of their responses
heartfully warming him therapeutically
never defying his touches and embraces.
As he prays and gives thanks to God
my special child asks blessings for his stuffed toys
midst utterances they all comprehend
expressing his affection toward them
like how his Mom loves him so dearly.
Before he drifts to sleep
he covers them with his own blanket
assuring their safety around his protection
while he allows my hands to extend toward them
since for him, "we are a family."
Yes, his stuffed toys understand his quirks
as they play with him with their flexible compliance
keeping him company of significant worth
enabling his individuality to exude compassion-manners
while enhancing his kindness-deeds.
More than soft toys, they are my special boy's treasures...
...gifts from people who love him --- whom he values likewise
as both recipients and benefactors of care, comfort, and cheer
... since they exemplify God's grace, goodness and generosity
while radiating hope, peace, and triumph for their functionality
though, of course, they can never and must not be....
... substitutes for a loving home.*
*Psalm 127:1 Except the LORD build the house, they labour in vain that build it.
September 16, 2025
1st place, "More Than A Soft Toy" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Natasha L Scragg; judged on 9/26/2025.
10th place, "2025 Poetry Marathon Mile 20" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney; judged on 10/8/2025
Golden Notes, Within Love's Newfound Treasures
As river rose, waves lapped on eager banks
bright as gold, love and its true romance gives
for its blessings we give eternal thanks,
within that paradise one truly lives.
As flowering meadows greet dawn's new rays
hours flow to moments of deepest pleasures
two lovers find night's joy, delightful ways,
and wrap themselves in love's blessed treasures.
Upon midnight moon's, shining love sent beams
both hearts dancing to such beautiful songs
cool winds touch and enhancing starlit gleams,
enjoy love's depths away from noisy throngs.
When such jewels are gifted from afar.
Brilliant are the glows of united stars.
Robert J. Lindley, August 7th, 1990
Sonnet
A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession, it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone, the mother
requires exacting conditions
to maintain her (family/) children’s love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her
understandable
especially when you think about the complexity
of structure and process took in the creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient Greek
this allotrope of carbon
with the strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of a love so strong
between mum and child
The Maternal being - could be compared
to the supreme physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic lustre
of this gem so prevalent from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths
roles and qualities of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high-pressured job
versus the high-pressured temperature
within the Earth’s mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love captures the magical lustre
of those born, and nothing
stands in between this richest of cargo’s
How did a decent lady like me end up here, anyway?
The only girl aboard a ship of unsavory men.
The last thing I remember was sipping a glass of wine in a tavern.
Then, when I awoke, I was at sea,
on a vessel, and surrounded by pirates.
Shanghai'd, I think they call it.
For what purpose, I do not even want to think about.
However, I found that out rather quickly.
Then, I learned something else.
A sharp cutlass and a loaded pistol are a girl's best friend.
I am hardly the damsel in distress, for I can take care of myself.
There is one thing on board this ship
that I do not mind thinking about.
The captain, or so he calls himself.
My gaze often finds him, though his never finds me.
Only when he is giving me orders.
I have been entrusted with the helm of this vessel.
While he stares off into the waters of the Caribbean Sea.
Perhaps, planning our next heading.
The seas are strangely calm at the end of this day.
The sun is half way sunken below the horizon,
making the usual aqua-blue waters glow a golden-orange.
I stare into the dark eyes of my pirate captain,
they reflect the sunset, and shine like the gold of a doubloon.
His eyes are a lost treasure that I hope will find me.
I would trade all of the hidden treasures in the seven seas,
just for one look of those eyes.
Rubies, rare pearls, sapphires,
even gold cannot entice me more.
I leave the ship's wheel to make my way
down the wooden steps to the empty deck.
And, I ask him if he has our next route mapped out.
The captain leans against the ship's rails,
looking down as if contemplating.
He slowly turns his head,
and looks up at me with those enchanting eyes.
Then, he gives me that mischievous half-smile....
All the treasures I possess
are precious to me,
they're just "things" to others
but part of life for me.
Each little picture or vase
has a history all its own.
Each one holds a memory
completing what I call home.
Through time as each was added
another memory was built
and I love everything I own
without regret or sense of guilt.
God has given me each one
they are mine to treasure
and I think he smiles to know
they bring me constant pleasure.
From the storehouse of my life
he is building for me
a home far better than this one
mine for all eternity.
Some day all these treasures
will rest in other hands
as I pass beyond this life
into the one he has planned.
There I think I will discover
as he welcomes me home
he has been collecting treasures
each with a memory of its own.
He speaks of sunken treasure
Draws maps to fortunes you may find
He writes it boldly as to where it may lie
Taking pleasures in his masculine pride
A gentleman cultivated in artistry
Loving lavishly he knowingly struts
Boosting his flirtatious ego
His moves, planned, calculated
To arise primal pumping blood
Eyes that manipulate and conspire
Until your dreams become endless desire
He breathes a burning fire
Embers embedded within
Unsuspected your caught within his grasp
Words uttered to ensnare
He persuades you in a game of trust
Leads you into passion and lust
Making you believe in sunken treasures
01/09/15
thanks to PD for the inspiration to write this poem.
Treasures from my Past
In preparing for the yard sale, I gather all my junk,
I wade through the mass of items from decades before
From furniture to dishes that have sat down in my basement
And I realize that my past will be pushed outside my door.
I pick up a box of Royal Albert dishes from a dusty cardboard box,
Carefully removing the yellowed newspaper that wrap each plate,
Displaying the majestic burgundy strip with 24k gold filigree,
Rediscovering those joyful feelings that seem to calm and sedate.
Long before the death of my parents and my only aunt,
These plates graced the dining room table at all family celebrations.
Oh the food, the smells, the faces and the happy times,
These plates bring back all the best and warmest sensations.
With so many items to keep, each item with its own meaning,
The Royal Albert plates unpacked, finally get moved outside at last,
To ease my mind I think about the happiness that they can bring,
More happy memories for others, can be made from these plates of my past.
Entering the cave of a wide open mouth
Pulling on the slippery uvula
Reaching for the nasal cavity
Taking a breath before leaping for the eye socket
Where I view the world that plows the field of future
Then taking dirt road veins to a house on 123 east Sycamore
Where Under the bed in my room is a cranial box of treasure
Opening the box exposes the parietal cortex
A single mother loving four children
A family of five on welfare
A mother in and out of the hospital
A ten year old boy visits mom on Sunday
A confused orphan on Monday
A mother enters holy sleep at thirty-five years of age
I love you mom
My son KJ often asks of you
As I close this box and return to the dirt road of veins, now paved
My moist cave will echo, only the love of a mother
=======================================
I miss my mother on special occasions in my life, and often wonder what things would be
like if she still lived? However I have been blessed to have known her and I live a
prosperous life for which I'm thankful for.....
Blessed Treasures
What blessed treasures in our kingdom of love thrive.
A love of four decades has grown and is still alive.
We have beaten the odds of half of marriages that end.
We may disagree at times, but always seem to mend.
I feel endearing love shared with me each and every day.
You calm my fears to instill hope, you always find a way.
Fatherhood fits you as a comfortable old worn glove.
Our children have always known the guidance of your love.
Now retired and at home, as we reach our golden years,
Wrapped in youthful memories with wistful, joyful tears
We sustain each other through sickness and in health
And realize that our union contains the greatest wealth.
5-8-20
Regal Royal Relationships Poetry Contest~First Place~
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Happy Mother's Day!
Those who dedicate their lives in the pursuit of carnal pleasures
Prevent their souls from acquiring God's spiritual treasures!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
28 November 2021
Whispered words from behind a wall,
to cronies gathered short and tall.
“Go on ahead,” he said, “let's see.”
“If I can turn her sweet on me.”
So from within, she heard the tale:
the rye, small, snickers, the wolves’ wails.
Yet, like the doe in the fires light,
the wail entranced, did not cause fright.
Wide-eyed, so stunned, the morsel stood,
in frozen stance within the wood.
Within his reach and steady glance,
the hunter broached the ancient dance.
With swagger, grace, he set the pace.
the honeyed tongued Knight on the chase.
He spoke words of honor, brave deeds,
of his claimed virtues she took heed.
“No, ” said the Maid, for she was shy.
“I’m afraid,” she moaned. “Do you lie?”
He turned her chin, and eye to eye,
stroked her fair cheek and heard her sigh.
Offered cake to this starving waif,
with trembling hands, she took the bait.
For upon his lips and rough skin,
She could, sweet-sugar, taste within.
He sought the warmth of her blood; bone.
He thought the conquest was his own.
Yet, she too held a hope within,
to bring forth the goodness in him.
Oh, she could feel his aching need,
'Twas his seedling soul, she'd feed.
The prey, prayed, to touch his heart.
to give the Hunter a new start.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Many’s the times, his teeth came near,
to the pulsing vein in her throat.
Many times the Universe stopped
like a dandelion seed afloat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The hunter balked, stayed for a time,
tasted the joy of her sweet wine;
loving the feel of a drink new,
a gift, love, offered each of you.
Could he extinguish this pure light?
Could He reciprocate, cause fright?
Sorry, was the wolf deep within.
He was sorry; she’d let him in.
Sorry, he couldn't grow in her arms,
Sorry, he couldn't loose to her charms.
“Sorry,” on the tip of his tongue.
As he left her, unharmed, on run.
“Sorry.” said she, rising higher,
made stronger by her pure desire.
Like the ancient Phoenix, she rose,
on the wings of her loves fire.
And prayer floated back from above.
A prayer, sent with her hearts' love.
echoing his sentiment many ways.
“Sorry Love," She said.
"May the Wolf find his Way.”
Thursday, April 26, 2001 12:47:49 AM
Treasures of the Spider
Spider!
Beware of
the night feeder.
Tiny bat wings, swifter,
than the absence
of light, silent, merciless
terror.
By morning,
I survey the remnants
of your web, rent and empty
of you, just tiny whispers
of your once, existence.
Your uneaten prey,
all neatly wrapped
and dangling-
as a reminder
of all
that we
can't take to heaven
Suzanne Delaney
Written for a Golden Orb spider I
named Spideress.
See note - ScientificName: Nephila maculata
The golden orb weavers are one of the largest spiders. Their webs can be found hanging off sign posts, in or between trees and can even be spotted driving 100 km/h in a vehicle. The females can measure up to 45 mm while the smaller males measure only 6 mm. The male is often found in the web of his girl friend. Beside the male and the female boarders resides in the web. They are called quicksilver, dewdrop or droplet spider because their silvery body shines like drops of water in the sun.
Their webs stretch to a diameter of one meter between trees. It is easy to accidentally walk straight into one as they sit in the middle of their web.
It belongs to the golden orb weaver family, which is why its silk is yellow, and this silk is the strongest of any spider. Sometimes small birds or bats get caught in it
Treasures of gold are the ones untold:
The ones stand so bold & yet never fold…
In the deepest corners scorned but not torn, Bruised & tainted but still not worn….
Beautiful on the outside but worn within:
toughly put together with the gentlest skin….
Impacted with newest wishes but covered with the old on the outside, eyes open wide..
in the rain shivering cold hands clinching to hold the very gift built from my life's treasures
of gold so beautiful & bold yet untold………..