Best Wondrous Poems
From out my window, I could see the creek
Its ice, a satin ribbon on the snow
Our winter holiday was just one week
Each day with skates down to the creek we'd go
Upon the birch trees, cardinals would rest
Beneath them lay the prints of hungry deer
For this was nature's turf and I, a guest,
Enjoyed the first few months of each new year
Today, upon a sandy beach I lie
With memories of Northeast winter days
It seems the years since then have just flashed by
But winter's wondrous song in my heart plays
Evoking thoughts of loves lost long ago
Now resting 'neath a shawl of virgin snow
Wondrous poems are melodies
Emancipated from live trees
Freed at last from trunk and limb
Freed at last to sing their hymn
Transplanted in the hearts they've torn
Transplanted by the poets they've borne
Echo in our hearts as rhyme
Echo through the sands of time
Written down with pen and ink
That all,
That would,
Might stop and think
How wondrous a poem can be
That's written deep within a tree
Dewdrops cling to blades of green grass,
like sparkling drops of liquid glass.
And at sunrise, as songbirds sing;
to blades of green grass, dewdrops cling.
With wondrous wings, butterflies fly;
a flash of color in the sky.
One of Nature's prettiest things:
butterflies fly with wondrous wings.
Crickets stridulate for a mate,
relying on the whims of fate.
And though their chirps can irritate,
seeking mates, crickets stridulate.
Gardenia blooms in Summer's heat;
a fragrant, sweet, sensual treat.
While clad in green and white costumes,
in Summer's heat, gardenia blooms.
Shadows merge, diminishing day;
as a setting sun slips away.
And flowing like a tidal surge;
diminishing day; shadows merge.
With his first touch our galaxy became an orchestra,
I quivered as waves of ecstasy took possession of me,
I felt I was no more in control of what was to be,
I heard voices of celestial beings,
Galactic sounds turned the heavens into an opera,
Angels misty, joyful tears stirring constellations,
Each one delivering an electrifying sensation,
Arousing my psyche, mind, spirit and soul.
The night enveloped us in a sheet of moonlit satin,
Caressing us, millions of stars cascading,
Sprinkling star dust upon us which glowed
Like fireflies, the milky way seemed to be slipping
Down, slithering across the sky,
Whilst the moon, other planets and solar systems
Collided, pyrotechnics illuminated the sky,
A deafening symphony tickling my heart cords.
Intoxicated and spent, gazed into his expressive,
Loving, fathomless, fawn brown eyes,
Such an encompassing ecstatic connection,
A togetherness of merging into one,
Sealed with a passionate kiss,
Filled with life-long promises,
In awe, Planet Earth trembled beneath us,
One wondrous night, of many more to come.
Thy Wondrous Life Was As A Butterfly's Brief Stay,
Poets Tribute Series, third poet, John Keats
Poet, where flows tears for thy premature demise
tragic death of thy soft heart, body, gifted soul
majestic verses from a poet truly wise
poems of deep splendor, thy words did so extol.
Thy wondrous Life was as a butterfly's brief stay.
And in thy heart, triumphant was thy sweet word play.
Poet, can praise seep into thy slumbering grave
or upon hearing such voice, does thee seek to rise
and in true caring, thy words again hope to save
by talented hand, let pen scribble out surprise.
Thy wondrous Life was as a butterfly's brief stay.
And in thy heart, triumphant was thy sweet word play.
Poet, does moon's light cast shine into thy abode
as blowing sands of time, thy rest slow ticks away
can spirit, with honor, thy sad story be told
of poet, that Fate's hand, forced thy dear Life thee pay.
Thy wondrous Life was as a butterfly's brief stay.
And in thy heart, triumphant was thy sweet word play.
Poet, not enough we admire from distant time
magnificence of thy genius in golden verse
thy heart once beat in verses heavenly sublime
before death delivered its dark and early curse.
Thy wondrous Life was as a butterfly's brief stay.
And in thy heart, triumphant was thy sweet word play.
Robert J. Lindley, 10-28-2019
Rhyme, ( Tragedy of the death of a young genius and truly brilliant poet )
As daylight breaks and wildlife wakes
a morning mist forms o’er the lakes;
with constant drive sun’s rays arrive,
and all of nature comes alive.
As morn unfolds, sun’s beams behold,
and bathe the hills in shades of gold.
The birds in trees, whose songs appease,
will revel in the morning breeze.
‘tis in the field that nature’s yield,
the flowers’ beauty is revealed,
and in the skies an eagle flies
repeating soft this rhyme’s reprise.
I look around and hear the sound
as all of nature is abound;
this verdant sod on which I trod,
a lovely wondrous gift of God.
August 13, 2020
There’s an ancient
thing of wisdom
in a cavern
in the sea;
deep down in murky waters
lying, sleeping peacefully.
At times it will awaken
take a travel-contemplation
or perhaps a short vacation
to collect new wisdom-seeds.
Sometimes it peeks
out from beneath
those liquid silvery waves;
then it dives and waters quiver;
just like diamonds on a river.
Then the diamond dancers fold their
crystal wings above its’ head.
Throughout umbral brine it searches
for others of its’ kind;
often stops to ponder
if it’s all that has survived.
We may thrill to glimpse it
as it bobs amid the waves
of the Okanagan, Loch Ness
or some other distant place.
Perhaps its’ mind’s about to burst
with the knowledge of the past;
after centuries of living
in the dark abysmal mass.
We humans must not harm it
or let anyone alarm it;
for it could be that this dragon
is a wise and gentle thing.
Perhaps within its’ heart lie the notes
that will make this planet sing.
1-3-2022
A STRAND (1045) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
It would be a wondrous thing
If I chanced to see
Unicorns of ocean deep
Swimming nearby me.
Each one with a spiraled tusk
Jutting from its jaw,
Swimming round about me; oh,
I would be in awe!
Clicking, squealing, whistling,
Swimming in their pod.
If I tried to join their group,
Would that seem too odd?
I could try to click at them
With my little tongue.
If I whistled, would they think
Songs were being sung?
Swimming with some narwhals though -
It will never be.
For I’d freeze so deep beneath
That cold Arctic Sea!
Written 10/9/15 in the 7/5 Trochee form for the Narwhal Contest of Skat
Wondrous frangipani...
You mesmerize me so.
Like a fan, I twirl you
Between my fingertips;
Striking yellow-white hue!
Wondrous frangipani...
You're the most eye-catching
Of all the spring flowers;
A captivating sight
After April showers.
Wondrous frangipani...
Beautiful as a tree;
Lovely in women's hair.
Stirred by a gentle breeze,
Your scent wafts in the air.
Wondrous frangipani...
Catnip to bumblebees;
Hordes of butterflies, too.
Show-stealer in gardens;
Gift to a day brand new!
All April In Monchielle Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich
Theme: April Flowers
Date written: 04/19/2022
She walks away.
Girlish and glorious
laughter
floats
through air
like a kite on a string
that pulls
tautly slipping through tightened fingers,
burning a little,
and slicing through
if ever left unattended,
so preciously tensioned
against the cold
benumbing
wind.
Tears begin to flow
but I do not know . . .
my heart?
or the wind?
If my heart, then am I sad
to be here on the ground
or joyful
to be watching the kite
fly?
In answer, a quivering.
A wisp.
"She will not fall or float away while I hold her thus.
She will be beautiful for me."
Wondrous.
A wondrous arc, I beheld
Perfection in its form,
From what hand, or artists brush
Was such beauty born.
The teachers tell us what it is,
Just raindrops and refraction.
But my romantic heart,
Sees heavenly interaction.
Entry for
Rainbows Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
24/10/18. Placed 9th.
A GLORIOUS WORK
A glorious work shall be done
Thru my blessed Lord.
A wondrous work within my soul,
A work beyond reward.
Not I shall do this work, I know.
‘Tis in His power alone.
Yet, when I give myself to Him
Through me His love is shown.
Oh, do this glorious work in me.
I pray Your will I’ll do.
Let only You be seen in me,
Thus, I abide in You.
Then I shall show Your wondrous love
To all within my sphere,
And when You come to take me home
The words “well done” I’ll hear.
I won’t deserve Your thanks, dear Lord,
But this one thing I know,
The abundant grace You give to me
Is more than I can show.
Copyright, Kathryn Search
It was shiny and bright sitting under the tree.
There were other things there, but that's all I could see:
a Lionel toy train on a circular track!
The caboose was maroon and the engine was black.
And to top it all off on this fine Christmas day,
was an engineer's cap that I donned right away.
I had deadlines to make and my job couldn't shirk,
so I rolled up my sleeves, and went straight to my work.
Utilizing impressive construction techniques,
I made Tinker Toy tunnels through newspaper peaks.
With an engine, a caboose, and three railroad cars,
I would ride to the moon and haul back the stars!
It sputtered and sparkled and went round and around
with a clickety clackety sonorous sound,
and an oily ozony odoriferous tang:
my thunderous wondrous electric toy train!
And then Daddy and I had to go out for bread,
and to pick up the big Sunday paper he read.
We're just about home when there was flashing of red...
and the crossbars dipped down at the railroad ahead.
As the freight train slowed up, I could clearly divine
the big engineer's head with a cap just like mine!
We dismounted and yelled, and I signed him three yanks.
He gave me three toots - and I waved back my thanks.
With my engineer's cap and my blue overalls,
I was dressed in a style to give anyone pause!
I had grand places to go and marvels to see...
but Mommy had my breakfast all ready for me.
It sputtered and sparkled and went round and around
with a clickety clackety sonorous sound,
and an oily ozony odoriferous tang:
my thunderous wondrous electric toy train!
Wondrous winter
Chills the nose,
Warms the heart
and swirls the snow.
Children play.
Angels are made.
Lovers are laughing
And flakes are laid.
Cocoa and Candy,
A sign of night.
Till tomorrow, when again
All is bright.
Pathetic poems are parodies
Chopped and severed from mad trees
Which escape from limb and trunk
Then appear in books as junk
Transplanted in the minds they've fried
Transplanted till their poets have died
Echo in "ruinic" rhyme
That degrade through passing time
Written down as so much clutter
They find their way into the gutter
How hilarious these poems can be
Poems also known as parody
ruinic - a fictitious word derived from runic as obscure and ruin as degraded
- a degraded and obscure rhyme