Best Ungloved Poems
cold hands - I search for the warmth of your heart
For the Mono-O contest hosted by Brian Strand
Placed 1st
Chosen POTW 15th November 2020
Posted 12th November 2020
The snow was drifting drifting drifting – white
like pearls of whispers falling on my cheek.
The stars were fairies’ wands. They were so bright
that looking up at them, we did not speak.
We stood outside my house, and soon you’d go.
Pines twined with blinking lights were everywhere
around my yard. We wore no hats, and so
small flakes of snow were glittering our hair.
We laughed at that! Your ungloved hand in mine
was all the warmth I needed in the cold.
You pulled me close. Oh, winter most divine
with my new love. I sensed you growing bold.
Beneath a full moon’s glow – just you and I -
A taste of Xmas was our kiss goodbye.
Dec. 19, 2020 for Emile Pinet's Winter Poetry Contest
Nov 26, 2021 for "X" Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
like a bee to nectar you rush
through the garden,
heading directly to the biggest red rose
in your path the tulip, vibrant and strong
in your haste for the beautiful rose,
you brush against the tulip, obliviously
knocking the fragrant petals to the ground
you grab for the perfect rose cursing
to yourself as the barbs from the stem
cut into your ungloved hand
as you wipe the blood, from the vicious
tear in your skin on your pants, you look down
at the dirt and on the tulip
now crushed under your boots
The grand madam wore double strains of opal perils,
Around her collar of white lace, in eloquence personified,
She’s cultures Lady of utter refinement, curtsying to noble
And high brad’s aristocrats alike.
In fragrances of memories I’ve drifted backwards,
To a time of Lillie’s corsages tied upon white gloved
Wrists, long gowns of silk that trailed behind ladies
Of status and grace.
Glided carriages adorned with opulence’s wealth,
Lined these main streets busy thoefairs,
Drawn by horse powers elect.
Pulling these beguiling vessels beneath oil lamp light,
Did the pampered horse flesh travel, delivering the
High born royals, from fancy balls, to posh dinner
Parties and the rich man’s society clubs.
Gentries Gallant dapper Dan’s went a courting,
Seeking beauties ungloved hands, with sweet kisses
Of vows promise, yet a dowers riches blinded their
Eyes, to the spoiled countesses true nature, so these
Court Jesters with mouths full lies deceptions,
Got their own back lashings tongue, in the end.
In these arena of wealth and fortitude, did Madame
So travel, amongst the crimson carpet walking
With prides stride, holding her head held high,
Never exposing the lower birth from which
She’d been birthed.
For she knew the truth hidden behind these
Fanciful fans of lavender and lace lay masks
Of masquerades charades, and games of
Fortune were played by dollar’s gains, not
The feelings of heart.
True class exudes not from ones pedigree,
Or families wealth and power, but instead
It comes from within, honor, duty and a
Soul’s valor of spirit.
At the evenings final climatic hour,
This mistress of the wise, seeks her humble
Shafto’s warming bower, sitting in her chamber
Of isolation, she smile at the portrait hanging
Above her mantels fire place.
Whispering slowly, soon beloved, she blows him a
Final kisses farewell, then drifts into infinities
Drifting realm of for-get-me-knots.
Behold its Madame’s last curtain call,
Let us all throw red roses at her feet,
For if a lady of true elegance ever existed,
On this earth of ours it was her, Madame
Of lavender and white lace, let the opal
Chains of perils thus be broken, as her eyes
Of classes distention, close for the last and
Final time
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
To arms to arms, she cries this soul carefree
as she advances the words fly from her quill,
with her wit she poses a counter-riposte
lancing ripening spoils so they can spill.
All rancor fell before her bold advance
her laughter lightens his sour temperament.
Ma oui, the Mistress invited him to dance,
"engarde," she winks, then lunges with consent.
Ungloved, they dance across the pearl white page,
each double entendre brings a dampening blow
not circumspect, but with aplomb she stages
a mutual downfall while they were all aglow.
The finer points of nibs and quill, be damned
what matters most was the Mistress got her man.
Inspired By Giorgio Veneto's Riposte
Silver haired sage with a golden tongue
Sixty years of wisdom has been gained
Today's the day his praises are sung
Body and mind have been fully trained
He sees the planet in his own way
Sixty years of wisdom has been gained
Living with purpose able to play
Passion is the special gift he gives
He sees the planet in his own way
He chooses simple in the way he lives
People more important than anything
Passion is the special gift he gives
Happy Birthday together we sing
Everyone has their time to be loved
People more important than anything
Heart that's open a hand ungloved
Silver haired sage with a golden tongue
Everyone has their time to be loved
Today's the day his praises are sung
Dedicated to my friend Armand Delisle
One's Shadowless Moment
That which we embrace
That which we shun
That which we serve
Assimilation
Man's strange bedfellow
Remaining often long in the wings
Allowing shadow-light to become constant
Inviting ghost-like impressions
Enjoin one's timeless opacity of reason
Edification reveals
Experience rejecting idleness
Determined to share
Clover-rich bounty
Free of any fear
Sagacity being void of threat
As predators ignorant
Discover wisdom unconquerable
Sageness
Prepares its ungloved hands
To wave its alert
Ready to allow
Hidden time to luminesce
Discernment
Cautious to act
Knowing empirical reality
Must first pass through
Emotion's unreliability
Patiently pauses
White hot focus holds sway
Peripheral resistance wanes
Fractions
Equations
Formulae satiated
Acceptance invites convergence
Consciousness
Once in asylum
No longer struggling to be
Stands naked at last
Heart and mind fused
Light embodying darkness
Like the ever-forming oneness
Of sunrise comprising sunset
Birth ripening awaited death
Standing alone in a festive crowd,
silent tears falling
to
the
ground
amid
the
gaiety
rising cheerfully loud
Twisted emotions is a troubling soothe
When out of the corner of your teary pout,
you notice her
compassionately looking at you
Then she comes your wintry worn way,
and offers a warm and gentle snowflake hello
Such butter sweet kindness
melts the pain in your pretzel heart
Still, she goes one step above
the Good Samaritan royal standard
of delivering cherubic wingspan comfort
She taste the salt of your suffering
with her naked fingers
Ungloved ... her bare hand
feels the long cold
settled in the hope shortened pulses within
She delicately senses that
you’re fragilely hanging on to the joy of living
And she intuitively knows ... with a frosted eyelid twinkling,
you’re in desperate need of a lonely holiday saving friend
Someone who will patiently hear the leaven fears,
and help tenderly
with the cordial unbending
of a sad, winding path —
Sorrows fraught with tears over the frozen years
Being in one place too long,
being in one form to long,
never being able to tolerate a blank page,
or empty air,
for fear of what someone else
will put in it if you don't
Wanting to feel safe, surrounded by enemies
who call themselves friends
A white knight dreamer in purgatory
edged on an endless field of victims
with hands outstretched.
A stereotypical Madonna
white in a field of gray
A wick less, often witless, foil
of coils of gray matter around things
which matter not at all.
Making acquaintances,
cloaking them in the garb of friendship
even while they toss sticks
on the pyres of the all life.
For what after all is a friend...
Who after all can truly know
as each of us confront and are confronted
by our own hells
and hope without much hope
for the outstretched hand to be ungloved
and touch the skin of our lives.
I welcomed you back with open arms
Build the sandcastles with ungloved hands
Months of labor with love and care
Your silence is deafening
My thoughts are endless
No questions asked
For fear of reply
Do we close the chapter?
Or rewrite the book?
It seems some are smitten
with long-fingered gloves,
while others have love
for warm woolen mittens.
Like puppies and kittens,
cute gifts from above,
you’ll give ‘em a shove
when fingers get bitten.
A gloved finger’s fat,
not very precise.
Ungloved? Bad advice ~
frost bites like a cat!
But a mitten’s a club,
a stump of a hand,
a digit remand,
a prehensile nub.
No, I say what’s finer,
much better than both,
A techno-outgrowth:
thermal silk glove liners!
The gloves can get peeled;
those mittens can too.
Fingers don’t turn blue
with liners as shields.
----------
for the Of What Use Are Gloves Poetry Contest
sponsored by John Lawless
written on 12/19/22
The world is my mentor,
eternity my judge
Each choice confirmation,
the ‘future’ ungloved
Time no longer master,
to deceive or profane
All life in this moment,
—its meaning contained
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
The tractor kept its course, row after row;
I spied your worn, green cap pulled fast and low.
The gulls swept down, their daily meal was laid
And as they rose, their wings shot silver rays.
I walked out to the field, your lunch in hand;
For nature set the time to work the land
And farmer’s hours are not observed in towns.
I waited ‘til you stopped and mounted down.
Your eyes were faded blue and sparkling kind;
You paused and placed one hand on top of mine,
Then hands ungloved, you took the pan of food
And smiled, then said my girl, my girl so good.
We sat beside the tractor, finding shade
And shared the simple lunch my grandma made;
While overhead the gulls swooped in the sky,
We sat in rest and comfort side by side.
Then once again you mounted to your task;
You’d let me ride along, if I’d but ask.
I’d stand behind you, swaying with the land
And prayed to God this moment would not end.
When I was little I used to believe in the boogie man
I used to be so afraid of just people's descriptions of him
that whenever I saw anything move in my room I would
snuggle up so tight and close my eyes with all my might
When I was a little bit older and I first watched
the nightmare on elms street
I used to be afraid to go to sleep
because Freddie could attack me in my dreams
Now I am an adult
and things like that don't really
make me afraid anymore
But in my adult world there is still monsters
There are the kind that could follow me home
and rape me , kill me and then next thing you
know I'm on the six o'clock news missing
And the creeps that attempt to slip pills in my drink
to make me forget about what he did
These are the type that should be labeled monsters
What really bothers me though is that a harmless guy
who made a mistake could be victimized
and ostracized just because he has AIDS.
All I have to say is that It makes me really afraid
That society deems him unworthy of anyones company
It's hard for me to comprehend how despite
His face. regardless of the race. Or the clean slate.
He can be considered a monster and labeled stay away.
When there are predators on the streets everyday
in which I have no diagnosis to go by
Glaring me down with their sly looking eyes
Yet were preoccupied with the ones who
are completely honest about their situation
To even shake his hand we have to have
gloves and proper anti bacterial ointment
You label him a monster but all I want to do
is give this man a hug ungloved.
Because he's not like any of the monsters I know
or have heard of.
Spire insight of silence
Swotch and bind, conspiracy of mind
Conspire and self-protrude
Mindless matter of maddened hatter
Borne gall of uncongruent bladder
Reign wettened confections'n faux pas
Pram embedded bedding of public propaganda
And poised for prose 'dulted diaper thrown an' broiled'n a gutter
Homely homelessness in wake of deft arms
Freshened refreshener and wetted choke
Chugged and driven doomed deliverance
Cut of word 'cross and lost'n devious drivings of work
Ticking tenor left fear to render
These haps to fall through ungloved metal and measly meak meal, and
Coarse feel along rift ridged riverbays
Swept upon eons of words spurred affray
Sully gusts, and worry t'encrust
And collect the lost worker from astray.