Best Trims Poems

Oceana

Oceana flings her sequined petticoats
Upon the sands as if to toss the seaweed 
From the swirling edges
While she dances with the wind
With each turn she swings her skirts
In thunder
As she passes – faster, faster -
Until her laughter foams upon the waves
And in the early midnight...

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Silent, she slips from her stronghold’s security,
safely tucked high on the cliff in her nest.
Cautious, she stays in the shadows afforded her,
sorrowful, hesitant, missing the rest.

Her parents and siblings had sought out the sunshine,
flying the open air, learning their craft.
Soaring and diving, they basked in...

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I used to mow the lawn with joy.
     And trim up all the trees.
Prune the hedges, tend the garden. 
     Way down upon my knees.
Shoot the bull with good time friends.
     Now, most...

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Theres a man in the sky, can you see him hiding, crouching behind the grey mist rising. 
Thunder and lightning seems to guide him to reach that height when he needs some time in the skies to hide him from deeply diving down in abyss...

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Jim starts the day with good intention
Jobs need doing that require his attention.
The garden needs a good sprucing up
His vegetation 'triffids' are running amok.

He mows the lawn, trims the hedges,
Creates those nice, neat lined edges.
Weeds the borders, deadheads the flowers,
Feeds the plants their nutritional powers.

The...

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Written: October 30, 2023, For Brian Strand Contest
               ______________________________________________

as
gloominess
drops to the ground
the lamplighter performs his
rounds. Equipped with his
ladders, wick trimmer
matches, long pole
and backup fuel
positions the
ladders on
the post,
He opens the lock and...

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Jesus is the Master Potter
By Franklin Price
09/14/2023

Jesus, is the master potter
We, the followers His Clay
He molds us into shining lamps
Reconstructing day by day

He lays His hands upon us
Kneads and shapes us 'til we're done
 He is the Master Potter
Who recreates us, He's the one

As cracks...

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Beneath my bark is a whisper stilled in silence,
Scrolled within my rings of age, is a wish waiting
To be answered.
A timeless spark, infused engrain's of wooden pulp,
Legacies promise sense before my birth’s germination,
My special reason for existence.
Warmed by the sun’s rays, cradled by Mother Nature’s
Loving...

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I try to ignore the squirming Hyde within 
And, with effort still,
I raise myself for the last traces 
of sunshine and fun.
What was left of the day, I savor for me. 
As the withering leaves of silence
have perfected the petals of stillness,
A quietude.
Such absence of sound
Never a serenity...

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The yuletide is here, with all its trappings,
          And I'll count my blessings to finally see
               My favorite package, in all her...

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Christmas tree so bright,
blinking in the darkest night.
Garland trims the tree....

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Line my quilt with the heaven's sunset
Of baked apples and golden trims
For tonight I will dream
Of such things to come...

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Lies, glamour, gossip and Earl Grey tea,
Turbulent tales boiling in china cups.
Elegant sacraments of blue-haired ladies,
pinkies stuck in the air, hiding their anger
or boredom or feeling their own
despair.

Crimson glass roses, feathers and jewels
crowned with wide-brim hats… trims of
gloves, lace fans and perhaps some pearls
are appealing...

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Ideas conveyed in trails of semantics
Or moving over horse and bars in gymnastics
Tumbling, rolling, scribbling phonetics
Reeling, shrilling, scorching like ballistics

Quibbling over ideas and reams of whims
Rattling odd stories of soul's whines and trims
Yours is the power over lines and grims
Absolution or redemption atop one's dreamed
...

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Amid the flowers ever blooming, ever fragrant,
Amid the stone pathways edged with brick,
Amid the gravel I peacefully walk over, 
Hearing the slight crunch beneath my feet,
Here lies color upon color of hanging baskets and garden trims.
Here lie bushes of color to draw me in.
Cooler air...

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