Best Verandas Poems
If you were mine...
If you were mine…our footsteps would
dance on moonlit verandas
while candle lit shimmers enticed my smiled reflections
with your arms tightly around me
symphonies would play to the rhythm of your charm
as we swayed in the essence of forever
on cloud soft concertos of affection’s melodic whispers
eternal echoes would sing in harmony to your eyes,
hauntingly dark invitations to my endless destination,
soothing seductions comforting weathered longings
If you were mine…satin beaches would
eclipse tan line passions
beneath glistening waves of aquamarine salt water bliss
gently caressing the depth of our love
palm leaf shadows would weave embracing patterns
of ocean fed breezes tickling our naked forms
as sea foam fingers probe pearl smooth valleys
sunset tides would tease beneath star orchid heavens
blooming of every wished for fantasy…
lasting happily ever after upon sandcastles dreams
If you were mine…my world would
be a mosaic of delirious euphoric visions
in constant creative motion delivering sincerely
every ounce of joy your heart could desire
each sunrise would be the sweet essence of your spirit
vibrant in wonders of colorful poetic offerings
versed in accordance with your every need
happiness would begin with promises kept
as we walked along endless streams of hand held blessings,
two hearts loving as one forevermore
If you were mine…oh, if you were mine
Good night Soupers
If you were mine…
If you were mine…our footsteps would
dance on moonlit verandas while
candle light flickers enchant my heartbeat
when your arms wrap tightly around me
become symphonies played to the rhythm of your smile
as we sway in the essence of forever
on cloud soft concertos of affection’s melodic whispers
create eternal echoes singing in harmony with your eyes,
hauntingly dark invitations to my endless destination,
soothing reflections comforting weathered longings
If you were mine…satin beaches would
eclipse tan line passions
beneath glistening waves of aquamarine salt water bliss
gently caressing the depth of our love
entice palm leaf shadows of cooling design weaving embracing patterns
of ocean fed breezes tickling our naked forms
as sea foam fingers probe pearl smooth valleys
glow in sunset tides teasing below star orchid heavens
blooming of every wished for fantasy…
lasting happily ever after upon sandcastles dreams
If you were mine…my life would be
a mosaic of delirious euphoric visions
in constant creative motion delivering sincerely
every ounce of joy your heart could desire
painted in the sweet aroma of everything that is your spirit
vibrant in wonders of fragrant poetic offerings
versed in accordance with your every need
worth living, believing that happiness can begin with a smile
shared along endless streams of cherish blessings,
completely satisfied and forevermore yours
If you were mine…oh, if you were mine
Good night Soupers
A gateway, as one leads from Terra firma to the sea
Or a path leading to experiences and knowledge
A leap of faith to explore newer potentials, to free
My enslaved self, from every chain of self-afflicted bondage
My passage is not merely spatial; it's spiritual.
My space, from earthly to heavenly, is separated.
Realms are split from perishable to imperishable.
With virtues and values, verandas are decorated.
Divine vibes, like a million suns, moons, and stars, radiate
Cherubims lead my refined soul to the celestial home.
I shrug off the moments when all that was good I did hate.
The portals are all straight now; I no longer need to roam.
Communion of the earthly and heavenly portals show
Shoreless seas of grace wherein mortal souls merrily flow
I knew the hush of white verandas,
Where time lay soft as fading lace,
And magnolias bent like women dreaming
In their slow, untroubled grace.
The river held its silver rumor,
The fields wore gold without a sound,
And all the clocks of earth were gentle,
With no sorrow found.
Yet somewhere beyond the singing distance
A darker wind began to start—
A whisper moving through the cedars,
A fracture running through the heart.
I did not see the hands that labored,
Nor hear the breaking of the day;
Only the light, too calm, too perfect,
As truth was kept away.
Now memory is a haunted parlor,
Where portraits stare with patient eyes—
And every rose that once was gardened
Still learns too late what silence hides.
A picturesque scene revels in snow
As the snow globe turns skaters whirl
Arm in arm with their handsome beaus
A picturesque scene revels in snow
Lighted houses lined up in rows
Welcome mats 'pon verandas unfurl
A picturesque scene revels in snow
As the snow globe turns skaters whirl
Sponsor: Brian Strand
December 05, 2014
A Lament--On The
Quality Of Life
Those homes made
of wood and mud!
Mud would in winters
keep cold away
In shivering
summers heat
And wood would give
them an artistic
appearance
The tin-roofs and
fenced verandas.
My mouth would
water with the smell
Mom often fried at
school time
The eggs were laid
by the healthy hens
We raised in our
open yard.
Those potatoes
were hard, and had
a different taste
Although sliced and
fried the same way.
Those village-
women would bear
Every year or two
bear-sized babies
And, with ease!
In the woods, fields,
or orchards
Or in frozen-winters
at home.
Similarly, Love too
was true and pure
When people fell not
in
What the letches call
love,--
So effortlessly and
frequently!
When phones were
not there nor any
dating site
And horses were
used to ride.
(people of developed
nations can't relate
their thoughts and
feelings with the
poem!
But machines,
artificiality, genetic
engineering have
deteriorated for
example the taste of
vegetables; and
destroyed our
emotions.
Hope it's agreed.
Thanks
i watch the sunrise
unbuttoning the stuffed pouches
of thunderclouds
soaking
imagination
with dry-drunk dewdrops
becoming bubbles
blown through
ringbarked
jewelry
worn
by the roots
of rhinestone rapids
growing in
spider
webs
trying to catch
a flying_fox
there has always
been a silent
soft echoed
beauty
dancing on the tides
from down
under
perfect pirouettes
showing ligneous dustdevils
proper form
forming
Dead-Sea
chiseled
respect
healing ones
inner folds
unfolding miracles
tucked away in moonpedicured
moments missing myriad music
marching in eucalyptustars
shining smiles upon licorice
chainlinkisses
in my minds eye
blackroom sound-proofed
in blacklighted boughs
creating windframed
wisdom
seen with the hearts
meshed monocle
revealing purity into
eternaluminum sliced skies
painting
memories
throughout dimensions
of a multi-faceted
prism
watched
from verandas
of velcro vicidreamt
sand
waking
up the sleeper
still
nowhere
near you
but
closer
than we've
ever
been
Once there was an elder who possessed a fortune vast.
He was the proprietor of lands he had amassed,
dwellings and retainers and a mansion huge and wide
but with just a single doorway to depart outside.
Though this house was broad and spacious, it was in decay.
Yet it teemed with countless people, plus a large array
of living creatures big and small, all about the place.
While in the halls the pillars were rotten at the base.
The plaster and foundations were cracking all around.
Its rooftops and verandas were falling to the ground.
With crumbling walls, beams and rafters crookedly askew,
that building was quite dangerous, as the elder knew.
The fencing round the house was broken-down and twisted.
Emanations human-faced eerily existed,
evermore antagonistic, with humongous greed,
trampling on one another in their reckless speed.
There was filthy matter scattered all about the site.
Various beasts were snarling and lusting for a fight,
quarreling, snatching food out of the mouths of others,
showing total disregard for their sons or brothers.
Poisonous bugs and snakes made it more repellent seem.
That mansion had degenerated, to the extreme.
Thus demons had settled in to dwell, that devoured
the vitality of men, hence to be empowered…
The aged man was in decline, nearing his demise.
He was prudent, very seldom taken by surprise.
Suddenly, fire broke out and set the house in flames.
His sons and daughters were within, playing at their games.
That father always felt concern for his children dear.
Seeing this inferno, he was overcome with fear.
Tongues of flame flared up in all directions round about.
With only just one access, how would they make it out?
[Continued in Part Two]
~ Harley White
We can’t catch the breezes inside,
so we take to the porches, verandas, fire escapes.
Watch an asbestos moon rise
over steaming rooftops,
and count flags from far away cities.
Below, beetles swallow our Elm trees whole,
as I listen to the neighbors bickering
and someone else’s harmonica.
W- When clouds gather more each day, we know winter is here to stay.
I- In our houses we preparing, while nature had already.
N- Nights become longer and darker, while days are shorter and colder.
T- Time to take stock of our lives, while we all hibernate.
E- Early we go to bed, it’s too cold to stay up late.
R- Resting time for most animals and trees, until it is spring.
S- Spring, is here can you here? Birds are chirping, animals cheer.
P-Prepare us for the warmer coming days, when lazy we can lay.
R-Resting time is done, a new season is here, and it’s time for more fun.
I- Invite us with beautiful flowers and fragrances, nature amazes us.
N-New seedlings and off springs welcome us, do you hear the busy bee
buzz?
G-Gone is it too soon, summer is coming at noon.
S-Sunshine and sunsets are now welcome, when days are longer and
warmer.
U-Under the umbrellas and verandas we shade, when we enjoy the
sunrays.
M-Most people flock to beaches, drinking cocktails and eat sweet peaches.
M-Merry we are, summer is the best season so far.
E-Excited and jolly season this is, but also a time for love and peace.
R-Reminds us also of Jesus birth, when He come to save His herd.
A-After all the hot lazy days, then we start to crave for cooler days.
N-Nothing last for too long, it’s time for a new song.
D- Days become a little colder and breezes stronger.
F-Fall, is here to come say hello, leaves are getting yellow.
A-Animals gather some nuts and fruit, piling up their winter food.
L-Long, hot summer days we can kiss goodbye, we can feel it in the cool
night sky.
L-Leaves are decorating our yards and streets, preparing trees for a winter
sleep.
A step back in time
when verandas had rocking chairs
purposely placed in the sunlight;
waiting for Grandma to sit,
and rock until darkness descended.
(#1)
Title: My growing up (episode one)
I was born to a native parents
I guess my mum was a woman of substance
Papa is so good
I can't write too much about myself at the ages before I turned ten
I can still remember my great-grand-mother playing a double role
She was my mama and also my papa
We lived in two stairs board house in a small village
The ground floor have one room,a kitchen, two verandas.
I can't still remember the store(stair case) at the right side of the ground floor
I used to hang over the store window to look at what was happening to my neighbors
The top floor have one big space we used to call 'PALA'
There were about twelve twisted and damaged steps from the ground floor to the top floor
I enjoyed running up and down the stairs as a little stubborn boy
Uncle Muctarru was gallant and will beat any man that crossed his path
He was fun of dogs
He used to keep dogs as pet
We had over ten dogs, making us the family with the highest number of dogs in the village
I can still remember when uncle used to order his dogs to do things like humans
Young Michael was stubborn
He will keep granny shouting his name all day long
I grew up with the mentality of girls being the one to stay home while boys go out to play
My sister was always at home doing all the odds while I spend half of my days in friends verandas playing 'Stopper' or spend my time in the beach or bush setting traps for birds
Granny latie will shout my name all day long
Due to me being premature while in the village, let me take you through half way of my school days
The name of my school is:
Rural Educational Community School
I started my primary education there till class five
I wasn't too bright in class but will always make it to the next level
I can still remember when I was asked to repeat a class due to my bad hand writing.............
Kansas Poem #4
Hey Hoss, slow down there!
No need to go so fast. Besides,
I don’t want to go
to where you’re going, and
I don’t want to be seen
to where you’re heading.
Hey Hoss, please turn this
furious black thing around!
Kindly get me the hell out of here
before it’s too late!
No, I don’t wish to see
this row of blighted Chinese elms and dead leaves.
Nor hear the badly-sung songs
of lost love and wild regret.
And, I refuse to see
the bloody scratches of truth and beauty,
so scrumptiously etched
with long blades on those splattered bricks;
Embedded there for the duration,
like the gum under your table;
Enmeshed there as the garnished gemstones
of the myriad fountains in Kansas City,
Polished with grit, staid tenacity, and
the time-shorn murders in the wheat lands,
underground in the broad basements
of purple smoke and black blood,
of silent stealth movements
under bending eaves, and a watching moon.
No Hoss!, I don’t want to go
to where you’re going.
Sorry, but we seem
ineffably lost and sadly wandering,
like a couple of dusty dudes
groveling for the keys that match nothing.
No, I don’t want to go
down that long Chinese lane. No!
Turn this furious thing around!
Here the people sit on long verandas and
watch the strangers come and go.
They might notice two dudes like us and
wonder what we’re doing there.
Sometimes I can hear
a loud shrieking funeral going by on Highway 50.
And those same people are staring
at the two caskets, and recognizing us inside!
Hey Hoss, slow down there!
No need to go so fast! Besides,
Time is not naïve, and Its retching Uncle
has left many a lover in the shuttered room,
up there on the 2nd floor,
has poured many a shimmering glass,
and licked many a teeming spoon.
Hey Hoss, ever take a morning break
at Hartman’s Café back in the day?
When the Clutters would drive by waving,
from inside their blue chevy impala, heading
to silent Garden City, and
the cold wind blowing unheard there.
If you drive this black furious thing
down that lane there,
you will see it.
It sits like an old cat in the sun,
going nowhere fast from its sealed post,
high upon these expansive wheat plains,
under this dark, brooding, blood-thirsty sun, and
an unforgiving watching moon.
AN OPEN AUTOGRAPH
(To All My Friends There And Here,
Then And Now)
On the bald branches of the lightning
That avoids the dark earth below;
Around the nipples of the October rain
That pamper the thousand lips of the earth;
I see you all; believe me.
On the receding waves that carry all the conches of the earth away into the bottom of the sea;
In the lidless red eyes of the fishes
That lie on the fishmonger's table;
When you sprout as the fountain-head of the parched river;
Now I see you accompanying the flower to cross today's turbulent river.
When all the unseen children crisscross the busy roads into infinity;
When you play with the orphaned tiger-cub in the wild within;
Believe me; I see you all.
While the female sweepers' fatigued hands scavenger all the condomed words along the streets;
When the lonely walking sticks stoop along my old verandas;
I see you all spinning around the earth.
When you unbutton your mind to the sun;
And your braless thoughts hang at my peeping window;
When a mischievous finger wanders into the most willing navel;
When Rahat Fateh Ali Khan burns my back with a thousand watts of energy;
I see you playing cards with the gods.
When the lunar night decides not to pluck the solar flower;
When the unwanted sheman on the train tells the story of the seedless fruit-bearing tree;
Believe me, I see you all here at my desk;
Yes, when my pen speaks to me the most illegible words,
The indecipherable of all.
(The End)
AN OPEN AUTOGRAPH
(To All My Friends There And Here,
Then And Now)
On the bald branches of the lightning
That avoids the dark earth below;
Around the nipples of the October rain
That pamper the thousand lips of the earth;
I see you all; believe me.
On the receding waves that carry all the conches of the earth away into the bottom of the sea;
In the lidless red eyes of the fishes
That lie on the fishmonger's table;
When you sprout as the fountain-head of the parched river;
Now I see you accompanying the flower to cross today's turbulent river.
When all the unseen children crisscross the busy roads into infinity;
When you play with the orphaned tiger-cub in the wild within;
Believe me; I see you all.
While the female sweepers' fatigued hands scavenger all the condomed words along the streets;
When the lonely walking sticks stoop along my old verandas;
I see you all spinning around the earth.
When you unbutton your mind to the sun;
And your braless thoughts hang at my peeping window;
When a mischievous finger wanders into the most willing navel;
When Rahat Fateh Ali Khan burns my back with a thousand watts of energy;
I see you playing cards with the gods.
When the lunar night decides not to pluck the solar flower;
When the unwanted sheman on the train tells the story of the seedless fruit-bearing tree;
Believe me, I see you all here at my desk;
Yes, when my pen speaks to me the most illegible words,
The indecipherable of all.
(The End)