reflections of peace
coat petals in twilight’s tears
dewy eyed dreamer
dreaming of roses
gentle grace, lost in praises
comforting angels
wings of love, survive
snow on hills, enduring stars
blessings of starlight
wondering snowflakes
risk the fall, betraying hearts
who believe, thorns prick
lavender blushing
wind’s song rising in the hills
restoring lost souls
glistening flurries
reassure the worried heart
forever in song
roses trembling, soft
like the fresh snow, falling soft
clouds of grace and charm
winter roses call
quiet as the stars, dazzling
dreams still breathe, sweet peace
In so few words,
Autumn leaves her poetry
On the silent breath of a prayer
Prayed by a soul who can hear
The voice of heaven
In each crumbling leaf
Listen to her voice
As she prays, mumbling phrases
In rhythms of grace,
Dewy eyed expressions of life
Rising from the melancholy
Sung by gentle praises
In so few words,
Autumn sings her song
Stirring the distant prayers
Of a heart who won’t go wrong
A soul who sees through the years
The blessing of heartfelt tears.
Crisp leaves write their verse
In the kindness of a bouncing squirrel
In the warmth of hearth
In the moon who knows she’s loved
In the sun who remembers
Autumn’s ink is forever kindled
By the prayers of her gentle whispers
Humble as a teardrop,
Dewy eyed and singing
Believing in the fulfillment
Found in listening
To the rain, the pain never
Erasing what is – what is
Like yesterday’s goodbye,
Faded beyond the sky
Where faith tumbles in breathless
Whispers, miracles
Inventions of the inspiration
Grown by hope, faith
Amazing like His grace
Never fading, always obeying
Endlessly praying – endlessly
Praising!
My Twin
I have a twin brother who was never born to a great life
He waits till I sleep, ten appears watching a re-run of
“House on the prairie” makes him dewy-eyed, cries
at dawn, I have to blow my nose to get rid of his tears
What expect of a man who is forever thirty-five and
and didn’t have to struggle for a living.
Lately, he has taken to talk, my wife gets angry, wakes
me, like, it should be my fault, says I’m cynical that
I have lost faith in humanity; I tell him when I die, he
will die too.
He scoffs and says, “I can’t die because he never lived
I will rest among stars while you decompose in a grave.”
Down by the only lily pond around here
the air is brisk and not particularly subtle
as it blows its windy nose.
It's not exactly a Monet painting
the setting is a little too municipal
and certainly not in winter,
but in a good light
it can be almost picturesque.
I conjure up some Debussy
replaying a favorite musical theme
in my slowly hissing mind
as it deflates and comes to rest.
In time, my thoughts
may dwell upon the pretty ladies
in their summer dresses
that sometimes visit
this unassuming spot,
but of course
not on a cold winters day.
No doubt I was born too late or early
to be a romantic
and my ass is getting chilled
on this stone bench
but damn it, with any luck
I will be back here in Spring
dewy eyed, and with
a melodic tune or song
pumping along
in my quixotic heart.
I might even bring the wife,
might even buy her a parasol.
Dewy-eyed, dragged on
With gaze upon
Spectre brighter than a noonday
I caught her soul entwined in the web
But lack what to say, like a play
Even with this swift communion of a babe
Entangled in the slying-coyness
I still let her feel the beat of my shyness
Trapped in the stillness of her eyes
But not to let go for long
Holding onto parts rendered undone
In our vacant gaze towards the rising sun
Made more severe by the sudden bright ray shone
I know she could melt a heart as snow,
Bring me the stars if feelings were made to show
Her heart always as pure as gold
Yet, I let her vanished into her fold
Would she ever feel my absence?
Would I ever catch glimpses of her presence?
Oh, would she ever cross this path again?
For I have spent years hoping forever in the rain in vain.
the first step’s the sweetest
the ladder steady
not splintered
no thought
of the problems up at the top.
the foot is giddy
impish, tapping
with dewy-eyed toes.
under a frolicsome smile,
an ankle circles in mid-air,
daring the stare of his mother
as she cleaves to nine feet below.
4/23/2019
The Smile at the Foot of a Ladder Poetry Contest
Craig Cornish - Sponsor
Silence suckles sin
at dewy-eyed mother's breast.
Shame shatters love's hopes.
When I was dewy-eyed I longed for sex,
a kind of sex fit for a male virgin
who lusts for the head of a fair maiden
regardless of what may then transpire next;
but my quest for this sex became a hex
and so I bedded a rough whore in sin
instead and succumbed to the act often
like a sex-starved satyr or male T. rex!
“O God, wherefore have I spoiled my body!?”
I pined and now rued the loss of purity
and was aware of lapse from the inside
and the lessons of this true irony.
But so long as breath, life and God abide;
Redemption saves despite that I have died.
Big Rabbit Sonnet
Giant rabbits are not cute as you think when they
are in a group then they sneer at us and make funny
noises aping human speech, they live in the forest
across the road and frightens hunting dogs.
The small village where I live is almost empty people
have either died or moved to old folks home where
they live three people in each room and get beans and
lard to eat the home`s owner lives on imported caviar.
The huge rabbits wanted to take the village over crossed
the road and in the village square fought a battle with rats
that claimed the place belonged them by ancient rights.
A woman came out of one of a house kicked a rat lifted up
a rabbit and the rest went dewy-eyed, the cuddly had won
over the ugly, rabbits are edible rats not so much.
the catholic nurse
all sensitive
caring noticing
everything
what can she think
of my hot/cold torment
always near blowing it
living in the fast lane
so friendly kind
the girls
dewy eyed
wanda abandoned me
bolton is in my hands
and yet my coldness
hurts
the more emotional
they stay
trying to find a reason
for my ice-like suspicion
fish eyes
coldly indifferent eyes
suspect everything that moves
socialising just to be loud
compensate for cold
lack of essential trust
warmth
i love them
despite myself
my desire to love
is unconscious and gigantesque
i never know
when i'm going to miss someone
strange coldness perplexing
i've got to work to get devotion
but once i get it
i really get people on my side
there are my people
who can survive
my shark-like coldness
and there are those
who want something
more personal
i can be very devoted to those
who can stay the course
my soul is aching
for an impartial love of people
i'm at war with myself.
("Strange Coldness Perplexing" was forged using notes scrawled onto seven sides of an ancient now coverless notebook sometime in the late 1980s, or early '90s).
When I was dewy-eyed I dreamt of love,
of a kind of love fit for a virgin
for whom romance betrays no vice or sin--
or for God to curse and speak evil of.
But I, rebuked and reviled as from above
by Providence, lost as Misfortunes won;
Having quit all hope for love's boon, I spun
myself astray on the wings of Lust's dove
into the rough lap of a subtle whore,
a strumpet to whom I gave my purity
who mocked me and then grinned with the three-score
more she's had,--I howled, "What cruel irony!"
But so long as life, breath and hope abide,
love will come; and when it comes--it'll provide!
While peeling
an orange I think of
you all time.
Walking in ruins
I pick up peonies
in grass, for you.
Dewy-eyed you
call for a knife in night.
It was full moon.
Satish Verma
My treasure chest is slowly filling up
Silly letters I wrote to my friends
Not passed on to them,
Thinking, they know what they mean to me
Maybe I should have, maybe I still will.
First love letter from a lad in school
Saying my eyes attracted him
My smile and my sense of humour
For the life of me his name escapes me.
Love is so fickle when your young.
Sweet wrapper, cinema tickets,
Tickets to the zoo, I loved that orang utan
Boris was his name. He has since died.
Photos by the dozen, family, friends,
Places I have visited, a small poem describing each place.
My first and last love's photos, letters, memories.
Words written down just in case my memory fails.
Memories of my university days, written down to remember
Graduation as a staff nurse, photos with an enormous smile on my face
Proudly wearing my uniform.
Nowadays, its poetry I put in my treasure chest
my words are where my life is portrayed
One day I will be dewy-eyed in love again
One day I will be a mother, then my treasure chest will be closed
Will have living memories to look at, my life will be fulfilled
Treasure chest - somewhere we store important phases of our lives
Silver stars are dancing—
Oh, the night is for romancing!
Lovers, fate are chancing
and from eye to lip are glancing,
hoping for a taste,
and the blood begins to race.
The water soft is gushing
on Night’s shores, quietly rushing.
Lovers’ cheeks are blushing,
their faces close are flushing,
locked in a gaze,
eyes begin to blaze.
The moon is brightly shining
on fingers intertwining.
Lovers inhibitions are resigning,
on mossy banks reclining,
possessed of a day,
Eros’s dewy-eyed prey.
The perfumed breeze is blowing,
the red blood quick is flowing.
Lovers’ gentle aspects glowing,
and time seems to be slowing.
Unknowingly afraid
to let the feeling fade.
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