Best Wending Poems
’Tween hither and thither while wending our way,
skipping, dancing through sand dunes in seascape croquet
and woven in waves watching dolphins at play,
I first tasted her lips in the ocean’s wild spray.
Mystic moonbeams, suffusing clouds’ shimmering sails,
then unleashed us and whisked us down sensuous trails,
soon evoking the trills of untamed nightingales
as our passions pervaded green valleys and dales.
Being specters of splendor in wanton sashay
we mastered our meaning in love’s matinee –
sultry breezes, in passing, slowed down to survey
blazing bodies embracing youth’s blooming bouquet.
With the wind as our wings, chasing rainbows we flew,
two gypsies on junkets through dusk’s residue
sometimes following pollen to everywhere new
beneath the empyrean, painted pale blue.
Rising higher and higher, the sun lured our sleigh,
teasing time was our temptress, night ’n day after day
as we gamboled and gambled, two waifs led astray,
with our shackles afire, our anchors aweigh.
Yes, we’ve drifted, like dreamers where sprites rendezvous
having stars in our eyes with all time as our view,
and feasted on laughter and sipped morning dew
while rambling forever as one made of two.
A
winsome
wind wanders
whimsically
through a meadow white
with wild flowers. Wending
its way through woods, it whistles
warmly while waltzing with willows.
Waning, it meets wisteria, where
now a mere wisp, it whispers wistfully.
An etheree with alliteration written March 21, 2016
He ran the palm of his hand across the canvas,
Felt its soft, smooth surface, excellent fabric.
It was well primed with gesso, and he was sure
The end result would be an immortal masterpiece
The quintessential fragrance of daffodils,
a carpet of yellows in secluded woodlands,
new-born lambs on wobbly legs bleating for milk,
bees irresistibly drawn to luscious nectar.
male cotton less cottonwood trees flourish
as do the blooming peach trees erupting in fruit.
And birds flying here and there, chirping delightfully.
On one side a cottage, beautifully thatched,
with a rivulet wending its way from the water mill,
on the other, a bench beneath an alder leaf birch.
There sat a young maiden fair to behold,
on his knees was a young shepherd hand outstretched,
barely touching, proposing, as she smiles happily.
The painter looked satisfied. It had taken days
But finish it he did. The Museum would be satisfied.
After all weren’t all his vast landscapes immortal?
A thread ...
ties me to the Infinite
a tendril of sonorous joy, expressed
weaves the depth of my marrow
to all that is and was and shall be and shan't ...
O - sing, my soul, of all that I am - sing of what I can't be!
A breath ...
holds my melody of being
spirit coursings beyond the capability of sensate expression
swell from the reaches of my heart
to find their diaphanous wings upon the maelstroms ...
O - sing, my soul, of all that I feel - sing of a bounding love!
A scream ...
rooted in dulcet dreams
rhythmic and dolorous and dark, of the night
dances, lilting, to bind the wounds of that greater expanse
to shed in music what I fear most ...
O - sing, my soul, of all that hides - sing of my shaded sins!
A song ...
sews my innermost to the day
a choral conjugation of my bones and the breadth of heaven
the seed of expression, harmonious ... wending
to enjoin this sparrow's strain ... with the All ...
O - sing, my soul, of all myst'ries to find - sing of a life at end!
O - sing!
~ 7th Place ~ in the "Your Best Free Verse That You Wrote" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Your best free Verse 2020" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "A Poem Honoring Spirituality" Poetry Contest, Caren Krutsinger, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Strand Choice X, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Sing It" Poetry Contest, Nina Parmenter, Judge & Sponsor.
Close your eyes and count to three
Wish a lovely wish and you will see
Sparkling dewdrops glistening of rain
Fields of flowers where tiny elves reign
Soaring gliding birds give rides for free
Chattering squirrels live in a willow tree
Gathering nuts for the long winter ahead
Scattering leaves to line their little beds
Twinkling teardrops light the sky at night
Dusting trails of diamonds glittering bright
Luminescent moon glowing in scholarly ease
Excellence of purity to be seen in the trees
Dancing angels carving beauty in all of life
Wending paths of love erasing life's strife
Close your eyes and count to three
Wish a lovely wish and you will see
Emotions diverse
'pon reading your verse
laughing and crying spontaneous
face a-beaming
tears a-streaming
joyful and sad smile-utaneous
My head is swollen
my heart all but stolen
wending across the vast pond
may stars shine my smiles
on you o'er the miles
of whom I'm mutually fond
I'm honored; moreover
positively bowled over
by your verse with acumen penned
of untold pleasure
your writ I will treasure
crack poet and much-cherished friend
TO TERRELL MARTIN, A WORDSMYTHE OF NOTE
A magic mirror told the queen that Snow White was the fairest in the land!
This put Her Majesty in a terrible snit and to the woods she had her banned!
She hired a hit man to have Snow White slain but he'd have none of that!
He let her go and she trudged along a path and came upon this run-down flat.
She rapped upon the door and hearing no answer stealthily crept inside.
Snow White had never seen such clutter - such a mess she could not abide!
She grabbed a broom, mop and pail and began to swab and dust and sweep.
Weary from her labors she climbed the stairs, found a bed and fell asleep!
The unlikely denizens of the little shack worked in the local diamond mine.
'Twas a 'Grimm' looking lot wending their way home through towering pine.
Dopey the younger, Doc the intellectual, Bashful, he with the coy pose,
Drousy Sleepy, crabby Grumpy, pudgy Happy and Sneezy with finger to his nose!
The little munchkins arrived home to find this beautiful creature in their bed!
She awoke rubbing sleep from her eyes, stared in disbelief and nearly fled!
Eventually, Snow White became a mother figure to that chaotic, motley crew!
She tucked them in bed, cooked their grub and settled beefs when fisticuffs flew!
Each morn the dorks shouldered tools heading for the pit to earn their dough,
Singing a quaint song they made famous, "Hi ho! Hi ho! Its off to work we go!"
Mister Disney made this classic film in 1937 when I was but a mere child!
Even today in my dotage, watching it with my grandkids, I'm still beguiled!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Tied for First Place in Linda Marie's "Disney" Contest - August 2011
A river of dreams is wending. . .
wending its way to an ocean of blue.
I’m floating on this river
with sweet dreams of you.
Every tree has its sprite,
a living deity ever vigilant of its needs.
Great Yggdrasil
ancient tree of life
holds her sprite within
her wending, winding arms;
a caress of gratitude
for its warrior guardian.
An ancient sentinel
guarding the wisdom
of Gaia’s mind,
needs a soldier;
this recruit, at the ready,
studies “The Art Of War”
with considerable vigilance.
No axe will ever release this tree
from Mother Gaia.
6-3-2021
ALL YOURS (JUN 4) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
my voice sings love songs
wending on winds of desire ~
when will it arrive
Winter storms dropped a tiny snowflake on a towering mountain top.
'Tis bright and unique among the myriad of snowflakes that did drop.
This rhyme tells of the mighty contribution that tiny flake makes,
As it begins its odyssey to grace our rivers, ponds and lakes.
It reposes deep within the drifts and gleaming mounds of snow,
And briefly provides winter sport for folks with faces all aglow.
But soon the warmth of spring rouses it from its hibernation,
To begin its journey, meandering to its ultimate destination!
It thaws and with others of its ilk begins to form a tiny rill,
Slowly flowing among the scree and pines down a sloping hill.
The rill becomes a pristine stream carrying the flake along,
Rippling smoothly o'er ancient stones, producing a soothing song!
The stream joins a rushing river, wending its way to the sea.
The one-time snowflake providing succor for land and stately tree.
At last it reaches the ocean, spewing from the river's throat.
'Tis incredible! This once tiny flake helps keep mighty fleets afloat!
At times we may think we're insignificant, contributing nothing at all,
But each of us is unique and can help, no matter how great or small.
Each in their own way can accomplish mighty deeds if only they believe,
Ever keeping in mind that tiny snowflake and what it did achieve!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Placed No. 2 inConstance's "Horses or Snowflakes or Horses and Snowflakes" Contest
October 2010
As I lay me down to sleep, for the last and final time
I leave you, my daughter, with this testament's chime
No matter the temperature, no matter the weather, no matter the clime
Be it ever so nasty, be it fair-to-middling, or utterly sublime
Be grateful, my darling, for our sun's constancy, rising anew every day
For its steady course through the Heavens toward sunset, wending its way
Appreciate the warmth of a Spring morn and the Autumnal evening glow
Even bone-chilling Winter, huddled round the fire in a cozy chateaux
Thank your lucky stars for Summer's finery midst weather resplendent
View each drop of rain as a scion of its climactic rainbow ascendant
For when you fill your heart with gratitude for what in Nature's indelible
Sure you'll stir the soul of your betrothed with Love un-dispel-able
June 25, 2018
Inspired by Iron Maiden’s “The Final Frontier:
#18 on Best New Poems List , May 16, 2025
I am but one person
on a mission that went wrong -
locked out of the safety
of the spaceship I was on.
Black ink is spilled around me,
vast and never-ending
as into nothingness
I find my body wending.
The oxygen inside my tank
will last perhaps six hours.
I can see stars - stabs of light
that twinkle not – cosmic flowers!
Forlornness embraces me -
a suffocating feeling
so unlike my loved ones’ hugs.
With gloom my brain is reeling.
I travel in my mind
to things I cherish most -
my family and friends.
To them I’ll be a ghost.
A ghost forever floating
in this upside-down endless sea
which will be a graveyard
of black surrounding me.
God, I am imploring you
as I drift and drift and drift,
may I soon be in your light -
my death both peaceful and swift.
In Memoriam Quietly Always Close
Are they whispers, then, settling
So gently upon that slightest breeze wending
Over the granite crosses and statues of cradling angels,
Which stand in their long cemetary rows?
Stating each name of the one passed on with
There-on etched, too, the noting of time alive
And telling of the beloved, who hum there their slow laments;
Who send up colorful balloons to celebrate their love and
Take far their silent greetings in the sky.
Are they lullaby heartsongs, which
Rise on sprigs of heaven-bound light,
So tunefully sweet for love’s addressed, aided
By a league of angellic composers
In their lyrical rounds from above our earthly sphere?
Are these the places of our hushed sympathies?
The places we lay over our dear ones
All the broken pieces of the grieving heart’s still longing
To stay in some way forever near, and, so, we linger thoughtfully
Criss-crossing the undulating final verdigris
Landscape, which embraces the last remains ~
Resting on in heaven’s wait for that further journey going on.
Are these faint mists surrounding
So many hours of our own remaining days —
Which are spent summoning back the stories, the touches,
The eyes that happily cast their glance into our own —
Not truly our tears
Being turned to magnifying memories,
Prayerfully appearing with each
Dusk’s close of day and placid rise of the radiant moon?
Do see that the soundless falling is our aching?
Is a furor — burst of pure, white snow:
A flash of a blizzard, looking nearly weightless,
Landing in silence, but
Incongruously, falling heavily down, into those forming crystalline layers
To dress a seeming lace-like çover over all the stone markers
With a luminous beauty, revealing a metaphor, ineffable
~ Blessed markers of life itself set here before us
Within reach of meeting the Divine.
—————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 6/5/2023
(Written for Jennifer Wilson & Maggie Hopkins in loving
Memory of James Hopkins, spouse, father, & friend) Also written with the inspiring power of images of the 9,000 marking gravestone crosses in Normandy, France, and sights of Arlington Cemetary, Washington, D.C.
Written to unaccompanied cello Suite 1 in G major, perfomer Yo Yo Ma
Thanks be to God…
Contest: Trilonette Contest Sponsor: Joseph May 6-21-23
#1
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River of Clouds
Lazy mists dawdle through valleys,
Wending in a river of clouds,
Surfs deep dales on rising tides.
Silver curly-cue veils dally
On twisting rivers like a shroud -
Leaves a pale kiss on riversides.
Mystic Rom roams the pine alleys,
Gypsy brume evergreens beclouds,
Cryptic nomad without a guide.
Flat bottomed shades float like galleys,
Wispy fogs tickle thunderclouds
Stolen cloud ships on a joy ride.
Rising tule croons playful songs -
Alto whispers for a singalong.