Best Yesternight Poems
Many years it had been since Sir Heathcliffe was home,
He had travelled in countries abroad;
He left in his grief at the death of his wife
While he wrestled with sorrow and God.
He had been round the world, and his troubles had too,
And the thought of his daughter was one:
He dreamed yesternight of her eyes greyish-blue,
And he cried, "Heavens, what have I done?!"
Thus it was that he stood at his very own gate,
Yet unknown to his daughter within;
And he prayed, "Lord, I hope that I've not come too late!
That she lived while away I have been."
First she opened the door and she bobbed down the stairs,
Then she skipped with a smile down the walk,
No thought all the while of her father's shocked stares
Till she stopped with her hand on the lock;
Then she covered her lips and she whispered, "Oh, my!
You're the man on the mantel for sure!
I've asked for ten years, but without a reply
Who the man and the pretty girl were."
And he said, "I'm your father who's been gone so long,
And that angel, your mother who died:
Forgive me for leaving, I realise 'twas wrong;"
And he could not go on, but he cried.
For he looked right into eyes of pale greyish-blue,
And he felt the same rush of surprise
As when years, years ago, with a pair that he knew,
"There's an angel," he said, "in your eyes."
Then she opened the gate, and they fondly embraced
In a place where a young couple kissed;
It was then all the pain of the years was erased,
And the guilt of the life he had missed.
"One angel," said he, "went away from my eyes,
But the other, I left of my own;
Till the day that I go to my bride in the skies
You will never again be alone."
~Written by Isaiah Zerbst on October 11th, 2013~
The air was filled with sparks so bright
as ash and flick'ring fire abound
The night was filled with fairy light
and from deep down the drumming sound.
And all about did wander round
in forms both large and shimmer small
walked spirits old of yesternight
to lend a charm to each and all.
The sky o'er head was filled with light
and night wore the king’s Northern Crown.
The stars fought with the fire flies flight
as shadows marked the unknown.
A royal night when love was sown,
and bardly singing did enthrall
their poetry did rich resounded
to lend a charm to each and all.
Around the fire stood bold knights
and their ladies most well, unknown,
secrecy was their honor-bright
and amongst them stood the Throne.
Changeling bride brought forth to atone
promises too old to recall,
tonight a fairy wife enthroned
to lend a charm to each and all.
Upon their heads set holly crowns
their scepters of ash, I recall.
Cloaks as light as gossamer shone
to lend a charm to each and all.
with punishing fury
yesternight
the skies wreaked their havoc
a rat-a-tat-tat of hail bullets
midst wave upon wave of rain
drenching the earth
this morn winds whipped
and whistled
cross bleak landscapes
occasional afterthoughts
of cloudbursts stinging the souls
of loners, prowling
debris-strewn alleyways
the glory and the grandeur
of Nature on display full force
some storm the heavens, call it evil
an omen of imminent doom
the wise man blesses the Creator
thanks Him Who makes seedlings bloom
Why are cold stars red and hot stars blue?
I asked Sherry, ma chéri, whilst stargazing
yesternight she and I, only us, hands holding;
Why are hot stars blue and cold stars red?
I asked her anew 'cause I thought she knew;
Her mouth motionless–her eyne tears shed.
Why are blue stars hot and red stars cold?
She kept on weeping, still voicing no reply;
Barefoot, as usual–her feet gladly I behold.
Why are red stars cold and blue stars hot?
No answer but an osculation was all I got.
Lying on the grass yesternight, she and I,
Rainwater started pouring over the lass
And me, yesternight, lying on the grass.
I believe that yesternight has gone by,
And this is another day,
A brand new day,
A very beautiful one.
All I could see is the rising of the sun,
with its beauty and energy,
Ready to beautify,
And illuminate this day.
All I wish is to be like this sun unto you,
lighten up your angelic face to a lovely smile,
And a source of encouragement to launch you,
Higher unto greater achievement.
Have you not looked upon horizons pink,
Outstretched from dreary skies of yesternight,
That vanquish tearful blue as cottons blink
And gray reflects the glow of lunar light?
Are stargazed lilies grown for one alone -
A selfish king who chains the royal moon?
Defiant highness knows, despite his throne,
That petals plucked tomorrow wilt too soon.
Don’t claim your wretched sonnets poetry
Because all lines adhere to rules defined;
No beauty breathes where vibrant imagery
Has fallen victim of the poet’s mind.
Your broken records spin in days gone by
While you refuse the right of time to die.
Yea, I Admit Being A Little Uptight...
Yet,...this baby boomer surrenders
since many an elapsed yesternight
to inevitable (albeit gradual)
cosmic fusion with universal spright
notched calendrical anniversary, mine
nondescript birth doth invite
quiet acknowledgement between
January twelfth and fourteenth 2019
lengthening shadows of twilight
years ordain nothing more slight,
than mine chronological meter,
which will tabulate LX orbitz
completed round the sun, a sight
hardly worth promulgating,
cuz I haint nothin but right
smack dab in the average
range as applies to quite,
a vast (perhaps a bajillion)
fellow Earthlings, somewhat polite
chap minding requisite p's
and q's (i.e. prime quality),
nonetheless being cordial, insight
full, how all knowing Universal
studios theatrical playwright
offers no exemption against
facing rigor mortis plight,
and if necessary
shines blinding searchlight,
hence the ultimate countdown
deliverance into eternal night,
or perchance afterlife might...
awash with marshmallow
clouds plus tangerine
skies, amidst kaleidoscopic flying kite
inescapable, yet...I oft wonder
if one can prepare
being hermetically sealed airtight
or if cremation chosen option
retain even a minuscule slight
speck, asper any conscious recall
kept alive by family and friends,
who sorrowfully bite
lower lip reminiscing
close curtain calls bloody fight,
sans that brawling night
in Casablanca, or nearly
(Al) most (Gore)d at bullfight.
Calling and hooting
to the wind tiptoeing
along the terrified face
of the wriggling curtain
looking through the window
at the trees and their dark ghosts
casted upon the blood of
the moon o'er the floor-
where loll a breathless frog
silent as a voiceless doll,
the wind to the wall came
now pulling on the curtain
to drag it under the rain,
where under the soil
an half-buried corncob.
The thunder-stricken eyes
of the silence is slized
with the crying of a cock
symphatised with the clock
burying yesternight
in the grave of the calender
and not under the floor
where there's an half-buried corncob.
As the dawn is fallen
the sun is rising
with a brand new light
spreading over the grave of yester-night
in the graveyard of the calender
which was from a sweetheart
a girl with lips stolen from heaven
who was once by this oven
baking her birthday cake
while the radius of her waist
I measure without a tape
but the hope to have a taste
both of the cake and her lips
which is more red or gold
red than the chilly rose
gold than the dripping oil of the sun
where loll the half-buried corncob.
The cock at watch
with his eyes afore
casting the rays
where the head is raised
the head of a somnambulistic worm
from where loll the half-buried corncob.
O'er my bed
worries bereft
under the blanket I loll
like the half-buried corncob.
It's the hatching of Sunday
hatching under the sunrays-
the egg of an angry hen
cracking under my pen
for how beautifully I draw it
without my drawing things,
I painted a drop of blood
where loll an half-buried corncob.
I got my pen and paper after a quizzical ride
I tried to squeeze my mind and set some work aside
But nothing, nothing really effuses
Not a single word fluidly oozes
Weary as I slept not in yesternight
Rummaging o'er jungles of paper stretched so tight
Yet my passions surge and desires rise
To yield the crops of thought before sunrise
And greet the day of parched land dry
Awful! Not a single word chimes a try
Now the quill and ink are dead, but the poet seems alive
In a last ditch of efforts, fecundity of thought tries to revive
So that once again, immortal words ultimately say
The most beautiful thoughts from within my heart lay.
Atlast,I found her,
She is one of a kind,
I call her my queen,
For hers is a royal heart,
She makes my days,
Brightens my moments,
How I wish you see her…
Her body shape,bootylicious,
Her lips,soft & delicious,
Whenever she walks,
I consider myself king,
Coz hers are palace strides,
For sure she is beautiful…
They say love makes one crazy,
I swear am insane,
The love dose of chlorpromazine,
Has left me in live state sedation,
Cant wait to spend a lifetime.
Her always bewitching smile,
That’s my weakness,
Whenever she does it perfectly,
My heart melts,yeah with love,
Leave alone the intimate kiss,
I telk you,I must be in love with an angel…
Yesternight we made a covenant,
She said our love had become malgnant,
I,by a surprise went on my knees,
Soon hers will be Mrs Igweee…
Cant wait to spend with her,
Watch her perfect body all day,
Taste her all time delicacies,
Kiss her passionately PRN,
And make her always feel like a woman…
Nine months down the line,
I will be caressing your pump
As it grows,I will listen to it,
Just as a sign of eagerness,
Good gracious,you will have twins,
A perfect blessing from God,
Please Lord,I rest my case upon you.
I promise,I will be the best hubby,
I will never make your cheeks chubby,
Instead I will shower you with love,
Peace in our family will be of a dove,
Imagine me daddy and you mommy,
My love,you so precious,
I will treat you preciously.
Merci.
Poet Igweee
Yesternight, I dreamt of you and all our
together times. My soul swelled with the sincerest
love and lips parted in the merriest laughter,
In my fantasy, you spoke softly with
the lilt of lilac melodies... My heart picked up some
strange sussurating rhythms and a pleasurable pain
assaulted my semi-drowned senses ~ Incredible feeling this is!
Did we hold hands? Or is my imagination fraught
with frenzied desire? The day we first met in 'our'
garden behind your house brings back the sweetest
memories... I still hear and rejoice with the songs
of finches, bees and the billowy breeze. Then, there are
the myriad flowers I scent even today! Those
wildflowers you wove into a beautiful bouquet that
Spring evening? - I have them preserved - Yes, they tell
me the 'secrets' we shared and our promises of
'forever'... Emotion in my eyes as devotion cries in my saddest,
loneliest hour, I wish dreams came true! ~ my last coherent thought...
"Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought."
Percy Bysshe Shelly – To a Skylark
So many of you, my fellow poets
deluge me with the kindest of words
Praise, encouragement, cheers
such inspirational comments I've heard
I try not to take a single one for granted
but human nature being what it is
Occasionally I forget just how important
your comments are to the poetry writing biz
Yesternight, without a Wi-Fi connection
occasioned profound introspection ~
Writing poetry isn't easy to do
and I could never do it without you
Yesternight smiled the full moon so bright
Twinkled myriad points of atmospheric light
Nary a trace of a cloud disturbed our sky-view
Fast in each other's arms, lovers drifting through
Galaxies of splendor, wishing they'd never end or
Perchance for the vast Cosmos to render
The Age of Aquarius' divine herald in
Star-studded, Heaven-blessed Carriage
~ Trumpeting this, our Angel-winged Marriage
May 23, 2019
'Epic Ethereal Editor' Poetry Contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula
Yesternight I met him again
Crossing the lanes holding our hands tight,
Talking about the tiest things that just don't feel right.
Discussing about the future we didn't care,
Living in the moment free as the air.
Eating icecream like it's rare to find,
Savoring each scoop leaving worries behind.
Hustling in an arm wrestling match entire night,
Laughing in the struggle,no end in sight.
Laughing, crying,upset all in the same space,
All emotions collide,yet we embrace.
But everything suddenly stopped, time stood still,
The space around us frozen against our will.
He started moving back,lost in his pain,
With a sight of sadness,like a dark rain.
I wasn't able to move,nor speak or cry,
Trapped in my silence watching him sigh.
Suddenly I was right but the scene rearragened,
I was in my bedroom,awake but everything changed.
A moment frozen in time beneath the sky,
I realised that it was his last bye .
There is often
a tale of some
that would mean love
their poems went viral
yesternight, perhaps
a cat and rat were
busy eating that soup
till when a story is over
now, came a memory
of something missing
though seems like a dream
didn't transmit well through neck
and instead begs yellow colour
fading
what guess I would not
more dream such in a front
perhaps, now
waving away in enliven nightmares?.