Best White Poems
He is the king of words and poets alike
Assay as you may, this man you won’t smite
His armour sparkles in night or day
Defending those too meek to say
His table is round, there's room for all
There are chairs with wheels so no one will fall
He hands out bronze goblets with sparkling wine
This king of lush gardens has spine
Renowned through the kingdom, for deeds he’s done
There is no battle, he has not won
His knights are loyal to a fault
So you better beware who you assault
Lancelot and Guinevere are by his side
Uniting followers far and wide
So sit and drink with us in harmony
And enjoy food presented artfully
The single white rose captured the old gardener's attention,
He lovingly cared for it, like it was his own grand-daughter,
The roses were just like family and friends in his eyes,
He gave them bright sunshine, and plenty of fresh water.
He had always planted roses in reds, yellows, and pinks,
Yet, it was the one white rose that he favored most,
The old gardener admired it's innocence and elegance,
A quality that the other roses just could not boast.
This precious rose was pure white, like new fallen snow,
Which only a cold, late November day could bring,
It's delicate petals were soft to the finger's touch,
Similar to that of a feather, in an angel's wing.
The old gardener was perplexed and astonished,
Only this rose bloomed through spring, summer, and fall,
Each of the other roses had withered months ago,
The frost and cold weather did not affect it at all.
With a smile, the old gardener took one last look,
Unknowingly, death would soon come without warning,
After he had settled down for a nap in his chair,
He drew his last breath, later on that morning.
His funeral was held on the very next day,
Loving words were spoken, as he was laid to rest,
His grand-daughter approached, with tears in her eyes,
As she placed the single white rose upon his chest.
The cemetery was a quiet and peaceful place,
Where family and friends gathered to remember,
A gentle snow began to fall upon the casket lid,
Brightening the gloom on this final day of November.
The old gardener's soul departed from this earth,
Lead away by a choir of angels, on delicate wings,
Then on through the pearly gates of heaven's garden,
Where the white rose still blooms, in eternal springs.
November 25th, 2013
At a table in a garden, on a soft, sweet, summer's night
Two friends are sitting talking by the moon's reflected light.
On the table in the garden there are glasses but no drink
And the friends are sitting talking, but they often stop to think.
The topics that they cover seem to range so far and wide
And the glasses sit there empty, since they left the drink inside.
The night is getting cooler but the friends stay close and warm,
The moon just looks down calmly, she has magic to perform.
As he leans across to kiss her, and she kisses him as well,
The friendship starts to blossom into something more to tell.
The tension in the garden needs assistance to decline
So the silver crescent of the moon leans down to pour white wine.
He walked down Goverment Road West
With a white cane, in shaking hand
Wearing Stevie wonder glasses
People called him the pop bottle man
With a white cane, in shaking hand
At the time he seemed old to me
People called him the pop bottle man
Searching the alleys for his treasures
At the time he seemed old to me
Frail in a menacing sorta way
Searching the alleys for his treasures
Bottles he spotted a mile away
Frail in a menacing sorta way
Us kids all stayed away from him
Bottles he spotted a mile away
I wondered why he carried a white cane
Us kids all stayed away from him
Until that day I took a chance
I wondered why he carried a white cane
Curiosity got the best of me
Until that day I took a chance
That man had been a mystery
Curiosity got the best of me
When I asked him why he smiled at me
That man had been a mystery
A lonely guy wandering the street
When I asked him why, he smiled at me
I handed him my bottle, he said thanks
A lonely guy wandering the street
Wearing Stevie wonder glasses
I handed him my bottle, he said thanks
He walked down Goverment Road West
I watch
Pop Bottle Man
Doing his blind man shuffle
When he sees a bottle
he moves towards it with ease
Dancing with glee
a spring in his step
More fluid than a summer breeze
He can see at twenty paces
Eyesight crystal clear
Through dark glasses
I watch him peer
Collecting his bottles
In plastic bags
The treasure that he holds so dear
Pop Bottle Man
His cane for protection
Illusion is the game he plays
What some see as crazy
May not be the case
If you take time to study his ways
For Gautami's Sketch a Character Contest.
I was inspired to write more after the Pantoum because of Drakes Comment.
written by Richard Lamoureux on October 23, 2014.
Out in the freezing rain
Hesitates gray morning
Between winter's end and
Spring's early intentions.
Leafless barren trees
Lining up on my street
Glitter sluggishly
Tiny frozen droplets
Hanging from twigs and stems
Resembling white gems.
Until young golden rays
Reflect in puddles,
Exposing to my view
Growth of green buds
Emerging from nodes
Where moments before
I saw tiny white pearls.
March 1, 2019
Placed first: March 2019 week 1 contest by Brian Strand
Featuring: Keith :)
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Fresh sand garments
The Mental Colosseum floor
Self-infliction's--waging wars
----------------------
~ AND THE POEM BEGINS ~
A mask, tiny holes
Breathing heavily
Dancing around my toes
Broad carbon steel
Safe behind my will
Equipment of revenge
Fencing the world with my eyes
I bow, with the morning dew,
My mind a dual in its own world.
When the curtains lift,
I prepare myself with a weapon--
Epee Crest to protect my chest
A sword sharper than fangs
I circle my blade around the door knob
Ready to face the world
Practicing --in hopes today, I won't retreat
“Fencers ready!"
ATTACK!
A magical knightress
Painted in white
"Let's dance!"
~ THE SHOW BEGINS ~
Queen Amri "VS" The Damsel
Wishing it was over
Stainless steel echoes
“Every poke counts”
Hoping & Taking
No room to disengage ---I retreat
Peacefully I secure my stance
On Guard!
I lean in, I disengage ---I flee
Back again, I lunge
The Queen is too smart to retreat
I -Amri, parry away from the argument of the lunge.
Recoil & Double tapped
In and out….. I'm struck
Boldness---
Back to the drawing board
On guard, I stand like a statue
Out of breath; feels like I'm dying
Yet I am still fighting.
The Queen knows what to do.
TODAY~
I Yield, She Wins!
Raising our foils
---At the on guard of another day
I move in swiftly, cutting like razor blades
Using refreshed energy
24 / 7
I attack, She provokes!
Sand runs its course
Victorious against the queen
Touch – tied – triumph -- Touché
Standing on my own 2 feet
I am the
-Grand Finale Show-
Conquering The Battles Inside
TODAY~
-I WIN!-
by; PD
We planted roses in the spring
when love was floating in the air.
A diamond glittered on your ring
reflected in your hazel eyes
the rainbow hues of paradise.
We had so much to give and share.
The months went by, the roses bloomed,
but when one day an ill wind blew –
no mercy shown – our dreams were doomed
to wither slowly and decay.
That fateful night you passed away
all the white roses died with you.
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[Pub. PS: It’s Poetry: An anthology of contemporary poetry from around the world 2020]
Rhyme scheme: A-B-A-C-C-B D-E-D-F-F-E
Contest: Rhyme Time 7 ~ Deep and Dark
Sponsored by Lu Loo
Placed 1st
© 27th December 2018
I am like an avalanche slithering in shivering angst,
free-falling into an abyss of an aching era,
where luminous lakes reflect pixelated regrets,
for time throws my canvas into splitting helplessness,
and mind plays tricks in aimless frequency,
framing toneless tenors within paralyzed psyche,
pushing and pulling ivory strings of my ebony heart.
Now I’m dwelling in the chaotic caves of a calculative carnivore,
unable to grasp the lunar light that envelopes forsaken fields,
while crooning caged memories, like a pensive nightingale,
pondering, would the moon ever untangle these starless thoughts?
Or was it written on the wailing walls of melancholic museums~
that I was meant to drown in dizzying darkness?
I’ll rest my pen in a glass casket of equations~
cloaking this crippled conscience from seeing beyond vague visions,
detached from kohl eyes, eager to steal my voice,
as I keep sinking in black and white polarity,
pausing curative prose in screeching silence.
It was a dry December month
There was no rain, there was no snow
And so his hopes were wearing thin
For Christmas White to be on show
Yet still a chance there is, he thought
As hope lives on, however small
And so he visioned Christmas joy
Through snowflakes short and snowflakes tall
Prepared he was, to set the scene
Such merry making, pure delight
The boughs of jolly wreaths were hung
His tree of green was trimmed with light
With gifts of gold set ‘neath the tree
And Christmas bird set now to cook
It was December 24th
Did he see snow, “let’s have a look”
With faithful wife and little ones
He went to window just to see
The first of many snowflakes fall
In Christmas dance of frosted glee
He never gave up hope, you know
For he believed and thus it came
He wished that all around the world
That folk would always do the same
It’s then he said, “I’ll need my coat”
As Mrs. Claus prepared his hat
Then “Reindeered” Santa made his way
To fly again and that was that!
Seduce me in Black and White
You reach toward my face
and touch my lips
Tracing the slightly raised pink curve of them
gently - lightly - before
the urge to kiss me seizes the opportunity
Surrealistic sensations immortalize
as our lips seek and lock
Interchange of strange, new emotions
flow as our tongues entwine
Sun having a siesta under his canopy of clouds sends
sombre golden light slanting through the old colonial blinds
Enough for me to see ~
I want to see ~
Caressing fingers don’t stop as kisses linger
moving in seductive circular motion
Circling - tracing - moulding
twin peaks to unashamed pertness
Tantalising ripples course my body
Like the soft waving flutter of butterflies winged kisses
creating sensuous ripple upon ripple
Of pure undulating pulsating
I want to see ~
Fingers urgently move now to my navel
circling, tracing, tinkling
Like a pianist on his keys
of black and white
Are they really only two colours?
Why then do they lilt a rainbow of colours to my ears?
On my fevered skin caressing fingers script my Rhapsody
The slow whirring beat of the ancient ceiling fan
picks up a harmonic note
of a solitary flute
Wanting to add to the sultry scene
It lends its own mysterious charm
A tantalising urge to arch
I want to feel ~
Impatient now for them to move further
Fiery Desire entices curious fingers to touch
dew that cumulates dusk to dawn on my awakening rose
Exciting, enticing emotions
The aromatic rapture floats me to you
a tortuously slow feeling to satiate
Propels bodies to engage
I want to feel ~ I want to feel ~ I want to feel you
A frog croaks discordantly outdoors
Snapping me out of my reverie
Startling me out of my romantic fantasy
Eyes fall back on monochrome words of my book
I long to dwell in this erotic moment
Weaving the music into a mesmerising crescendo
However
The old wooden blades of the ceiling fan
resume back to the rhythmic measured clickity clack
The spell now broken
I reach for my phone to call my lover
He awaits my call …
Video Clip - Yanni - Romantic piano
Starlight pierces ebony,
above sculpted shades of white.
And moonbeams soften the scene,
gilding Night, with golden light.
Donning a crystalline dress:
Nature's a picture of grace.
And draped in soft, snowy down:
She's frozen in time and space.
Billions of snowflakes gather
atop branches: where they freeze.
And subtle features get carved:
by the breath of a sharp breeze.
But breezes aren't strong enough,
to dislodge the sticky snow.
And the laden branches bend:
bowing impossibly low.
Cold casts an enchanting spell:
in the throes of Arctic chill.
And silence imbues magic:
to Winter's artistic skill.
How do I shed the label
of a white oppressive man
Do I listen to the message
of Obama's "Yes we can!"
Perhaps I'll go out marching
With women take to the streets
Hold placards of "Black Lives Matter"
While trying to feel their pained heart beats
Still I wonder should I feel guilty
for horrible things my race has done
Or would it not be better
If I instead loved everyone
My friends are many religions
Jewish, Muslim, Christian Too
I've conversed with Jehovah witnesses
if you are Sikh I can learn from you
I'm unconcerned with color
or the kind of clothes you wear
I'm more interested in your story
and the heart you're willing to share
Don't see me as an enemy
Just because my skin is white
Understanding will replace our fear
Conversations can make things right
No one wants to be looked at
through the lens of a clouded eye
If you and I are both willing
a different logic will apply
In the end we are brothers and sisters
there is but one human race
Each person wants a sense of belonging
It's up to us to create that space.
Entry for Debbie Guzzi's " What is White?" Contest
My thoughts drift back to my childhood days
Of so many years ago
All the family gathered by a roaring fire
Whilst outside glistens with sparkling snow
We had such fun making snow angels and snowmen
Our little frozen fingers and rosy faces were aglow
Memories of Christmas now firmly in the past
I look back on happy days of so long ago
Our Christmas tree was draped with tiny twinkling lights,
Bright baubles, tinsel and candy canes just for our delight
Oh how the years have flown by so fast
Sadly, like the snowflakes our childhood days don’t last
I scan the list of Christmas cards that I’ve got to write
Each year it grows shorter, with loved ones we now miss
I dream of turning back the clock and returning to the past
My memories of Christmas are ones I hope will always last
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Contest: Christmas Carols
Song Chosen - White Christmas
12~03~15
One pitch black night I was driving home and was ready for my bed
My usual route was closed for repairs so I took the minor road instead
I was just approaching the old derelict mill that was over to my right
When out of nowhere a lady appeared dressed from head to toe in white.
I tried to swerve but hit her head on and it gave me one helluva fright
Thought what was she doing alone out here in the middle of the night
I quickly jumped out of my car and dialed, nine one one on my phone
And thinking that I might have killed someone, chilled me to the bone.
But there was no sign of her and I feared she was underneath
I caught sight of my face in the cars mirror ; I'd gone white as a sheet
I quickly got down on the ground and used my phones torchlight
And I started praying to God up high that the poor lady was alright.
But she wasn't underneath the car and thought was I going insane
The wind was howling loudly now and brought with it heavy rain
I was all on edge, then got in my car and had the life scared out of me
When a loud voice said " operator here, what's your emergency"?
Something Spooky 8 to 16 lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Written 5th October 2021.
Evening gusts shall take away all my fear,
The stars will shine and fill my eyes with cheer,
The universe holds everything so dear
But you my love... How much I want you here
Lonely nights upon horizons I face,
To hold you again in this sacred place
I howl forlorn into the moonlit space
Where once we lay in our loving embrace
Weeping willows shall whistle in the glen,
As I lay silent with paper and pen
You left me, but I forgive you, again
The tree my witness, return to me, then....
We grow our roots beneath this willow tree
In sun and rain we will together be
***
April 22, 2017
Copyright © Darren White and White Wolf