Best Weathered Poems
The weathered years pass with silent restraint
Leave an impression of time standing still
I have counted sunsets without complaint
Life washes over me testing my will
I've crossed boundaries of unimportance
Found wisdom at the rusty gates of age
I've laughed on the dark stage of circumstance
And know life's curtain falls on its last page
To play a fool in the turmoil life gave
And paint graffiti on its coldest walls
To be my own master, be my own slave
I'll open the rusty gate when death calls
I can only ask for the price of years
Find it a mixture of beauty and tears
4/6/15
I think of storms I've weathered, and I smile
for those who've sought to break my heart and gain
the pleasure of defaming me with guile
now know the truth: their efforts were in vain
the thunder of their words died down in time
as did the insults hurled against my form
the self same wind of strife cleared all the grime
and pain to peace was able to transform
I withered for a while, that much is true
the pain was deep enough to make me cry
Truth made me strong and helped me to renew
my broken wings on poetry to fly
those who condemn are gone, and I remain
the storms of life have helped my worth to gain
Eileen Manassian
Diminished by age, a weathered existence limps
Crutching dimmed vision and impaired limbs,
Much wiser that before, it speaks wisdom words
Entertaining grandkids in stories that enlighten,
Wishing the time to destiny would stop rushing
Reminiscing adoringly in yesteryears’ springs
As exuberance of yore in travails of life recedes,
Recalling seasons pristine, ravishing, blossoming
When youth ruled meadows of blazing revelry,
Reckoning lately though, how summer parches lilies
And winter freezes perishing autumnal leaves,
Unsure whether sunlit-dawn tomorrow brings,
If life’s graying themes can still invoke dreams~
As blunt reality confronts passions embellished.
Yet, life emulates pride of battered old oak tree
Mangled and broken, withering in gusty winds
But, standing steadfastly aiming for centuries
Rejoicing birds frolicking, concert of hatchlings,
And it too sways merrily ignoring bleak warnings
Beckoning alluringly reluctant, fading feelings
To tango in ballroom of life for yet one more spin,
Conjuring ancient images of renaissance in Italy~
The Colosseum, statues, galleries full of paintings
Pulsating forever, beyond bounds of mortality
Weathered, yet standing, as battered old oak tree
And aged-existence that defiantly keeps ticking.
November 24, 2021
Placed 2nd: “W” New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Weathered
The wonder of your smile is always there,
just like you gave me on that special day,
when first I saw you on my front porch stair-
your smile imprinted in my heart to stay.
Just as in spring and summer long ago,
and then in later years, your smile assured
my joy of knowing our love stayed aglow-
and now, past autumn years, have still endured.
The sparkle of your smile from first-love throes,
and blissful wedding day we said 'I do',
still lingers in my heart, although now shows
a special glaze from winter’s weathered hue.
The wonder of your smile- those early years,
that glowed with brilliance like untarnished gold-
became my treasured prize and now appears
with warm patina-sheen as we grow old.
Though years have flown and age has had its way-
your antique smile now etched with lines anew,
and lustered with the wear of each new day
brings priceless meaning to my love for you.
Tethered, Weathered and Feathered
Whom is that man who got tethered?
Looks like he is overly well weathered
Oh my, he really, really got feathered.
Written: July 17, 2015
Theresa Marie W-C
I stand-
gazing at the weathered door-
beautiful the knob is old brass
foliage dark and green
protects it
an assemblage of butterflies
lilt and move musically all about
fluttering and it's
lovely
at the weathered door beautiful
and I look behind me at the whispering
foliage dark and green
a labyrinthine of twisting memories
a long path strewn with tears
woebegone and sorrowful is my journey
as I
gaze
at the weathered
door-
beautiful
and the knob of old brass beckoning
from
foliage
dark
and green
that protects
and I
step forward to open
but tangled vines
cling to me-
around my legs and arms
holding me back
and butterflies
lilt and flutter musically
a beautiful assemblage encouraging
and the past
is whispering and hissing
surreptitious
of a manuscript written
where I languor listlessly and weary
oh the murmuring memories
that hold me locked in the past
my journey to the door a struggle
but oh I love them the memories
each one
weeping I must break free of the tangled vines
of the past so I take each beautiful
tendril off each clinging vine
and lay them gently on the ground
with a kiss
and step forward frightened and quivering
placing my hand on the old brass knob
and
I open that door
the weathered door beautiful
protected by
foliage dark and green
and step through
that assemblage of butterflies
flutter musically through the opening to
a lush and green sumptuous beginning
and I follow
them
into a future
mellifluous
________________________
June 18, 2015
Free Verse
Written for the contest, ...And then I opened THAT door.
sponsor, John Lawless
First Place
He Found Clouds That Weathered His Mind
Twelve months ago he caught a train
A train of thought.
At the depot of his mind he got on,
As a stowaway.
All through his life
He was hitching a ride,
Hitching life,
Hitching nothing.
In tow
He had nothing to show.
Just seeds of gloom
That grew into trees.
Trees of melancholy.
On the outside he was normal.
On the inside
He was fighting his demons
Masked as depression.
On this train ride
He hoped for an answer,
A guiding light,
An angel from Heaven,
A welcoming change.
It grew worse.
Winds of faith,
Blowing him chocolate,
Wrapped up in sweetness,
An oasis.
He saw her on this train,
Another stowaway.
Perfect.
Water for his drought
The angel he sought.
His sunshine.
They talked briefly.
It stormed,
She turning into clouds
That weathered his mind.
Another aberration.
He got off,
Kisses blowing
In the wind
Masked as pain
Taking him further
Into the abyss, into
the depots of his mind.
connie pachecho
8/6/17
Two beautiful trees on a hill that died
Two beautiful trees for whom I cried
They weathered the seasons through the years
They stood the test of time
And weathered all the storms just fine
When our life is none
And our time on earth is done
When we have stood the test of time
Like the trees we weathered just fine.
For Sandra on the loss of her parents
Approaching the weathered staircase to climb the porch of this forgotten house, the sunlight streaks through the holes in the roof to highlight the once regal ferns and the overgrown garden. Peering through cracked window of the front door I see the elegant rosette that once invited guests into this home. I close my eyes and the wind whispers of days gone by filled with love, laughter and the losses of the families that lived here. Sadly, I am reminded of what a grand home it was.
the cold wind chills
the dry bones of this home
silently searching
Decaying House Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
7/13/20
I looked in your eyes today.
But something told me
If I were brave, I'd look away.
So I turned my gaze
To the horizon.
Lost myself in the sunset.
And even though you were there,
Just two feet away,
I saw you in the orange and pink rays.
The gathering of clouds in the distance,
Shifting effortlessly in the sky.
They were like you.
You make it look so easy.
The concept of loving you.
But like the pastel beauty way up high,
My love for you weighs me down,
Pulls me apart,
And makes me rain on a sunny day.
I lost myself in the dream
Of floating off with you,
Of happiness and of your beauty.
But then you called my name
And I came crashing to earth,
The dreary mist of spring morning,
Lying low to the ground,
Colorless and lifeless.
I looked in your eyes today,
But something told me
If I were brave, I'd look away.
But I'm a coward,
And I'm a sucker for summer days.
Flutter, flutter my little bird,
Always seen always heard…
Sing; sing with your wounded wing,
All the sweet sounds that you bring…
Joy, joy my tender toy,
Don’t know if you’re a girl or boy…
Fly, fly toward my heart,
For I shall heal you before you part…
Smile, smile and stay awhile,
Before you embark on your many mile…
Stay, stay for only today,
Come morrow, you are free to fly away.
Oct.06.2019
Writing Challenge, October 2019 - Bird
Sponsored by: Dear Heart- Wiishkobe Ode
Placed 1'st...Thank You
Today I took a walk in memories.
I’ve visited landmarks of significance.
We’ve conquered the troubled seas,
We’ve diminished the difference.
The trees are weathered but strong.
The water still gently swaying.
I’ve not been here in so long,
But you’re still here, so I’m staying.
Could you see me through ages past,
Could you see me amongst the wonder?
Do you want this memory to last,
Because right now we’re still asunder.
The time moved quickly passed,
A laughing replaced by thunder.
As you walk away, I can’t help to say,
“I miss everything about you, my treasure.”
Could you hold the tears at bay,
As I fight away the displeasure.
The bridge where I kissed you,
seemed smaller as I sat alone.
A twist of what felt so true,
Shadows of the forest have grown.
Grandpa’s rustic, once crimson red barn sheltered so much and so many different things
From biting bitter cold, to cyclonic winds, and hard-drenching-down-pouring rains…
Great memories lie heaped, buried in antique red rubble and sifted gray ash
Decaying on open flat grassy plain along with the historic Civil War past…
The red barn was where I learned about his cranky, short tempered, milking cow
Never wander too close to hind legs for they will surely send you tumbling down…
The weathered red barn held fabulous hiding places for rodents, snakes, and me
I know its brave red heart protected me from countless accidents and waiting dangers…
I acquired great joy sliding down its majestic shingled low-sloping roof
Continuously riding into insidiously giant pillow-soft snow drifts…
Sacred memories of childhood absorbed in knot holes and immense pillared rafters
Echoing in the attached silo and milk room where laughter gathered non-stop…
Along the country roadside, down a pot-hole filled gravel dirt road, were neighboring farms
But not one barn could match the strength or beauty of Grandpa’s weathered red barn…
Copyright © 2010 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Fifth Place Winner ~ "That Old Red Barn” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Rick Parise
Dec. 10, 2010
As a flag, left to the ravages of wind and sun,
so too my soul, stands tattered and ravaged.
My visage now a faded memory
of once courageous colors.
My voice no longer crisp, nor upbeat.
But weak and undefined.
No longer do I instill nor evoke,
a sense of power or purpose.
I am easily dismissed as useless, unnecessary.
Yes, once I was the strong flag,
that laughed in the wind with a quick
snap and whip crack determination.
That was years and many storms ago.
Now, I give into the wind,
with a defeated wave
and the sound of a sigh.
We talk about the sacred,
places ancient as fire, palaces divine in quagmire,
getting lost in footsteps of artistic archaeology,
uprooting ghosts in structure's facings,
We want to know why knowledge is forbidden outside the skin
of nourishment's tastings,
pineing for the verbotten dialect of perfect sin,
needing to understand why boats become skuttled in sands of dread,
asking why it seems angels along with demons our confusion conspire,
Staring into faces of stone like children seeing new color,
wondering if those rigid lips will ever confess a crime that We could forgive,
is there rhyme in love haunted by punished valor,
could there be trust established in harmony with ambition refusing to give,
communicating as birds before the malstrom
for directions to the shelter that made Time begin in form when thunder rung,
running into the genesis of Life & Death We trumpet like heros
congratulating each other for finding beauty in burdensome burrows -
J.A.B. Dedicated to all community builders -