Best Vases Poems
Days pass into the weakest of loveless nights. The moon blinks.
The stars swirl beneath the colored brush of Van Gogh. He links.
Comets trail snowfields of light pass agonized cypresses, schizophrenic concussion.
On and on, the wind twirls the trees and does not complain,
nor, does the cosmos cringe awaiting reciprocation.
Lightening bugs mimic the starlight, atoms sneer.
Those who spout love and friendship abandon him sneering.
Their images dance beneath his half closed lids, when he blinks.
Though denied visual compass, his soul does not reciprocate.
Through pain, physical and mental, palpable pain, he still links,
with the life which has both absorbed and excluded him not complaining.
Night passes without his mistress, Sien. His mind writhes, eternal concussion.
His torn visage trembles with the brass sounds the storm's ranting concussions.
The butcher, the baker the candlestick maker, derides and sneers.
How unmerciful is this cycle, this God to whom he does not complain?
And, if indeed, lack of mercy is just, may he not know “Why?” Time blinks.
Just the act of thinking causes pain. Only painting connects him to the link.
He must accept both the pain and the art as gifts, choosing not to reciprocate.
Voices always the voices, the paint, the moon, the voices, reciprocate.
He chases the mice. The cheese, pewter plate and all, falls with concussion.
He rubs the backs of gnarled hands across his lids, maintaining the link.
“How? Why?" But, the mice eating his cheese grimace and sneer.
Inside the cottage sunflowers shimmer and wiggle in vases, as he blinks.
Stumbling, he falls in an attempt to sit, the insubstantial chair does not complain.
He had thought God clear, clear as sunlight, yet the damn paint Lord! complained.
He was Not God, and try as he would, the light escaped. He MUST reciprocate.
After all who was he, but a mere man, ashes to dust, life blinks.
“Ah death…le grand mal…no minor concussion,”
He must escape this mortal coil, join the celestial spin without their sneers.
Sick, he was sick, yes, sick to death of not being understood, no link.
Categories:
vases, lovegod, light, god, life,
Form:
Sestina
Love maker,
Body taker Love shaker,
Hot whisper,
Peppermint & jasmine in air
Tickling every body hair,
Reverberating into the Queen's chamber,
A tiger's den teething to be,
Safety in no layer, romance the pillar of this prayer,
Our auras igniting flower vases ablaze
To compliment our shadows,
Personas fevered with juiced up joy,
We both played Aces,
Mine the Spade her's the Diamond,
Together we make an Ace of Heart's place,
Caprice keeping hold of Club's Ace,
She exhales stars from a mouth murmuring for moments of senseless beauty,
Purring for pleasure painted with a kiss,
Illuminating my frame with pixied permission
Unharnessed we are, as spontaneity seduces strategy,
Craving the next second like atoms in a spin for sin,
Feeling each other in ways undefined
Unrefined, simply, lustfully,
Loyal to needs supernatural,
Gifted in gritty game,
Rubbing her rose with fingertips of cool flame,
Giving her the wand that was once only mine,
As lovers now, belonging to Poetry's promise,
Complete partners, reunited treasures -
J.A.B.
Categories:
vases, love,
Form:
Romanticism
Of Dandelions and Roses
Among the bricks and stones
dandelions persist, finding
any smallest egress to pop
through.
My Irish Grammie called me
her "Rose so sweet"
Truth is - I am a dandelion
Life tried its best to quell my growth
Circumstances played jacks with my life
Always, some persistent genetic inner seed
grew to maturity and became a will of iron
wielding a mace most fierce
Like a child's paddle ball, I bounced back,
no matter how many smacks came my way
Life paved me over, but, determined,
I broke the pavement again and again
Roses are sweet and elegant and fragile
Dandelions are pugnacious warriors
Rose are clipped and put in pretty vases,
dandelions force themselves toward sunshine
I am a dandelion
Categories:
vases, writing,
Form:
Blank verse
1) Pick up the cat and cradle it in the crook of your arm as if holding a baby. Position forefinger and thumb on either side of the cat's mouth and gently apply pressure to cheeks while holding pill in right hand. As the cat opens it's mouth pop pill into mouth. Allow cat to close mouth and swallow.
2) Retrieve pill from floor and cat from behind sofa. Cradle cat in arm and repeat process.
3) Retrieve cat from bedroom and throw away soggy pill.
4) Take new pill from package and cradle cat in left arm holding rear paws tightly with left hand. Force jaws open and push pill to back of mouth with right forefinger. Hold mouth shut and count to 10 .
5) Retrieve pill from goldfish bowl and cat from top of wardrobe.
6) Kneel on floor with cat firmly wedged between knees. Hold front and rear paws ignoring low growls emitted by cat. Get partner to hold head firmly with one hand while forcing ruler into mouth. Drop pill down ruler and rub cat's throat vigorously.
7) Retrieve cat from curtain rail and take another pill from the package. Make note to buy new ruler and repair curtains. Carefully sweep shattered figurines and vases from hearth and set aside for gluing later.
8) Wrap cat in a towel and get partner to lie on top of cat with head just visible from below armpit. Put pill in the end of a drinking straw, force cat's mouth open with pencil and blow down the straw.
9) Check label to see if pill is harmful to humans and drink a pint of beer to take the taste away. Apply band aide to partner's forearm and remove blood from carpet with cold water and soap.
10) Retrieve cat from neighbor's shed and get another pill. Open another beer. Place cat in cupboard and close door firmly on neck. Force mouth open with dessert spoon and flick pill down throat with elastic band.
11) Fetch screwdriver from garage and put cupboard door back on hinges.
Drink beer, fetch bottle of Scotch, pour a shot and drink. Apply whiskey compress to cheek to disinfect, then toss back another shot.
Throw away remnant of T-shirt and put on a new one.
12) Take cat to vet and get him to give cat the pill.
Categories:
vases, cat,
Form:
Free verse
She really does...
She writes a lot about love,
crying, and
About someone dying.
She writes about flowers
In gardens,
and
Pretty crystal vases,
Gracing tables,
Layed out in lace.
Great Grandma wrote
Once, about my face.
She writes of the stars and
The moon,
Once dancing on it, as it smiled.
Said she wished she could have
Stayed a while longer,
But sunrise called,
Scattering through the
Morning woods.
Birds sang in mellow tones,
Ravens black, were seen
Soaring almost as high as eagles.
Robins are her favorite things,
Except for butterflies,
Which defy the idea that there is
Any creature more beautiful!
Greatgrandma wrote about the
Waves licking the shore.
I looked and looked for the
Dancing sun,
She said lingered.
She's writing now about
Some special thing.
I know this because always,
When she writes,
She sings.
2:50-2:51 p.m.
March 20, 2013 EST
Cynthia
Singing Still
Categories:
vases, grandparents,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
"Golden Red"
sunflowers sent
silent voices
never speak
but hearts
in suspended grace
are embedded forever
still, grace calls
this tugging moment
into each other
love sent
sunflowers
still opening
minds
keep everything
in great depth
sunflowers
pour immense love
immortal, into veiled mirrors
vases here
are never
empty vessels
spoken
quietly in
volumes
deep
golden
chords
read
Red
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
gvlm – llb
2.8.22
Categories:
vases, muse,
Form:
Romanticism
the perfectly polite lady
who gracefully writes me daily
whom i hope i will one day applaud
when she reads us her poetry abroad
the sister I've always wanted
the same ever since she started
she's said many prayers
and she'll always be there
to miss her is my brokenhearted
my words to her are special
we meet on the very same level
and sometimes i say
in a some sweet way
"she's mine" when the day is special
her words are furniture
in my heart
and flowers in vases
and art
the beautiful scenes
the stars in between
the clouds floating apart
the warmth the fires glow
the great spirit from with in that flows
the someone that is
when i needed a friend
heavens answered prayer
(To my favorite soup girl Carolyn Devonshire;)
Categories:
vases, devotionwords, day,
Form:
Verse
she clarifies bacon grease
to make the popcorn
once it is in the bowl
add seasoning with butter
a tad of garlic, sea salt, sugar
the layers of flavor are a paradise
scattered in each morsel
this means a romantic movie tonight
probably one we have seen quite often
i never tire of this
holding her hand as she tears
with each tear, i fall in love again
she finds ways to make vegetables tempting
baked, fried, steamed, an array of seasoning
appetizers of soft cheese, celery, small sausages
while the cheese brings a subtle creamy softness
the celery mixes in fiber and mild juices
then assaulted by the piquant sausage
as it races upon my pallet
masticating this admixture
i become a contented bovine
mindlessly working the promised pasture
ruminating before i must surrender
heavens touch to the stomach
that precious smile she wears
watching that consuming ecstasy
as a soft moan of pleasure escapes me
they sit upon a thin elongated rectangular plate
which rests between two slim vases
one has a red rose, the other is pink
she never varies in that arrangement
red is her undying love for me
pink is her gratitude to God for our love
while colors never change
she will add different meanings at times
which she announces after grace
you are more than just a loving chef
you are the romantic that inspires me
you are the poet in the kitchen
whose depth lives within so many levels
i never tire of gazing upon her
she is the third rose at dinner
my Blue rose, the unobtainable
is obtained, the chimera realized
each bite i take is another sonnet
she has carefully crafted
in that enchanting cauldron
those soft moans escaping onto her smile
have become my book of best-loved poems
1/16/19 Kismet
Categories:
vases, devotion, i love you,
Form:
Romanticism
I love spring and all the bright spring flowers,
the daffodils, tulips the pansy blooms;
oh, I even love those warm spring showers.
I am drunk on all the flower scent fumes,
putting vases of blooms in all my rooms;
and some to brighten up family tombs.
Oh, welcome back sweet butterflies flying,
I love you all- the orange and the blue;
fluttering, drifting- I feel like crying.
Sweet, sweet painted ladies in every hue,
sometimes you come alone, at times a crew;
come, kiss the flowers that for you- I grew.
A robin finds a fat worm on my lawn,
little sparrows are gathering for nests;
and all the birds start their singing at dawn.
I love the concert- do not think them pests,
oh, woodpecker does tap, tap, taping tests;
a hummingbird lands on my hand and rests.
I have been waiting all winter for spring;
for you beloved spring- I want to sing.
___________________________
March 28, 2019
Poetry/Sonnet/Spring At Last
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1128-273-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Urban Sonnet
sponsor, Emile Pinet
Fifth Place
Categories:
vases, bird, butterfly, flower,
Form:
Sonnet
We lay flowers on the grave
never gave them to the living
we put them in fancy vases
when we finally say I love you
a sundial whispers -it's too late
You think you've mastered forever
'til forever scratches at your graying door
dreams never fly without feathers of hope
blowing away like Mojave Desert gold
Limestone hearts worn away by indifference
everybody's taking -so very little giving
everybody's sitting in the same dark cave
talking to the saddened shadows of themselves
hearing only the echo of their desperation
sliding into the mouth of the burning bell.
Categories:
vases, death, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Tree Top Dancers
and Circus Clowns
The neighbors moved away.
They said nothing to anyone,
they just left.
New people took the home.
There was a big truck.
It was full of boxes,
and a TV.
It was jam-packed with animals...
and cages and crates,
and statutes of...
Greek women holding water vases,
Greek men with harps.
The truck itself was all blue.
Funny, even the tires.
Odd.
I watched as they unloaded other things;
a giant clock that rang...
from the time they took it from the vehicle,
until it went... inside... (hushed tones).
There was a deep freezer,
the size you could fit six grown men...in.
One on top of another...
a side; by side by side by side, by side, by side.
There was a trunk with a hunchback,
and then a hunchback with a trunk.
What can I say... they were a pair,
I had to stare.
Unfair, I looked away.
Then the mom, and the dad...
came rolling up the drive.
They were in a giant bread truck;
made of cowhide?
A dozen kids on the back,
and even a few on a rack?
A lively crew of gypsies.
Carnies, forced to retire;
from long days,
now gone.
The circus, the show,
the festival of colors;
no more...
Come to a new place,
to put on a new face,
to leave no trace,
of all that was left behind.
Yet how do you start a fresh life,
from a comfortable place you always lived,
upside down, right side up,
cheers all around,
and elephants that danced,
giraffes that sang,
and popcorn was the main course;
at dinner.
Now everyday life,
full of strife,
trying to make things right,
somewhere in the world.
The clowns still make some laugh,
at every funny gaff,
even if...
it is not in a big shoe,
or under a giant tent.
Be happy.
It is a choice.
Categories:
vases, death of a friend,
Form:
Narrative
Solar Eclipse Kiss
Moon tumbles into the tunnel of mad tribulation.
Only in her dreams, her higher desires exalt into an empire from her orb of opulent observations.
For their relationship of spicy sanity survives decades of divide.
Now, Sun perceives Moon’s presence in her plane of promising pleasures.
Alas, she arises in chromatic clouds with lavender lilac, bluebell bonnet, ruby regal rose and orange orchid.
Pounding, pounding the pulsation continues with
her secular scent of feminine fermenting flowers.
Lace formulates from her face as she graces the rainbow ground with her luminous opal silk vases.
Closing, closing miles collapse into arching arms where
their souls harvest and birth from the sealed solitude
of languishing loneliness and petals of passion.
Longing elongating lusting Moon encircles secular seductive Sun.
Bonding, bonding, hands of happiness conjure on the curves from the creator and etch onto the existing definitions of desire.
Full Moon releases pearl plumes to her love, as Sun reciprocates with glittering gleam of solace steam.
Phoenix Sun and Peacock Moon flutter in fire flames with golden and gossamer games.
Full Moon paints upon Sun’s heart from her white web…
Her opal blood drips words upon his beating gold.
Let celestial love live in new literature levels!
March 10th 2021
Categories:
vases, adventure, appreciation, bird, emotions,
Form:
Alliteration
With all the bad- I got good news,
for five months I have had the blues;
all my thoughts tangled up with muse,
to despair I said- I refuse;
just worked on hobbies to amuse.
My mind went to awful places,
I prayed to God for his grace's;
friends gave me blooms and embraces,
I wept at roses in vases.
Waiting was endless and scary,
I became quite solitary;
my home a safe sanctuary.
I did a lot of soul searching;
there was a lot of soul aching.
then the phone call came - no cancer
I am thinking about tattoos,
of butterfly wings and faces;
visited the cemetery,
told my mom the good news shaking;
whispering- mom, got the answer.
___________________________
March 27, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/Minuanetta/I Have Good News, Mom
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1239-391-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for Minuanetta Contest
sponsor, Emile Pinet
First Place
Categories:
vases, happiness, health,
Form:
Rhyme
The cottage near the wood is crowded in blooms,
Its creamy facade is enlivened with many hues;
And large vases of flowers grace several rooms.
Joy throughout the days with the delicate fumes,
and legendary exotic, natural splendor issues.
The cottage near the wood is crowded in blooms.
Redbirds sing gold sunshine, or of pearly moons,
Nature creates beautiful at the merest excuse,
And large vases of flowers grace several rooms.
Summer appears early, in all the mellow Junes.
Blue and mauve butterflies flit floral avenues.
The cottage near the wood is crowded in blooms.
In such lively colors, encroaching beauty looms,
Green scenes in each window, sunshine suffused,
And large vases of flowers grace several rooms.
All the endless days bold tangerine sun looms,
and rabbits and the bees gather woodland news.
The cottage near the wood is crowded in blooms;
And large vases of flowers grace several rooms
Categories:
vases, beautiful, bird, color, flower,
Form:
Villanelle
Hyacinth Hands
Mother, ego-cracker, birthed an embodiment of freedom plaited with slavery
petunia planter, marjoram with Malay curry and rice, yet scarcity her best performance when hunger a primary protagonist
my leap into Sovereignty depended on unraveling karmic bonds binding us through lifetimes, countless ages, sotto scenarios
Piscean, she scaly presented the toughest tests with hyacinth hands, only an embattled Heart would accede to
her non-relinquishing of my spinal cord nerves entwined with hers, she decorated with wondrous wild animal decoupage vases
to despairing detach from plundering pain, each principal pleasure she designed with subtle oomph, unconscious sophistication
my divinity would have back burned in futuristic coliseums had she not been Mother of trialing pegs and variegated embroidery cotton
Categories:
vases, appreciation, birth, change, character,
Form:
Free verse