A long time ago,
A boy met a Lady, They Danced and drank and met up daily,
Laughter filled their lungs, as they acted a little crazy,
Soon time began to fly by lately,
Although in their 20s they dreaded turning eighty,
One day a ring appeared in the boy’s hand, rather shaky,
Please my darling girl marry me Baby,
The wedding was merry, and full with friends and family,
And of course the best matey,
The boy became a man the day he held his first baby,
Life was grand and as sweet as the ocean and sand,
Although the couple prayed daily life became rather racy,
And here we are my dear husband, Mi. Lady,
Although a few memories have become a little hazy,
They remain each year in my heart filling it with gayety,
And my love remains like the blooms of a fresh daisy.
What does something good mean? A person, food, toy, or Life.
All of these I think. Yet, how must we know. Take a person, with hardly any faults.
Always kind to others, sees no bad in himself or others. Does what the bible tells each day. This is good.
Food - tastes great. No msg or fattening ingredients. You will not gain weight. This is good.
Toy - something for a child to play with all day. Doesn't hurt him or her; they learn
and love it all day. This is good.
Life - with little hurts - smiles, laughter, gayety, fun, few hurts. This is good.
Love of everything - family, earth and the Creator - This is Best.
Pulling joyfully their curtains wide
Allowing love's rays her, beauty's light
New Radicals, you've got the music in you
Seraphims escorting serendipity's twenty-first
Century his jinni appears gayety her garland pastel
Mesdemoiselles their colours rich as oils this Helen of Troy
Menage menagerie; resilient, these spirits the child, whom believes
Wearing flash floods but hey we do it in style: jill, an infant's Messianic retreat.
SPRING NOT YET
Not quite yet
Winds humming steady even
Yet blowing in minor mode
The cloud layer vast high
Relentless with no whisper of blue
Over coffee my window view
Offers a shiver but no temptation
I sense (with fancied feet)
An Earth just beginning to squish
Yet with forbidding firmness beneath
Torn by nature’s shredder
Lay scraps of all variety poking heads
There is no hint nor harbinger of gayety
In a scene with absent southern touch
Even Tiger – my puss – is reluctant
To venture out
Spring?
I can only close-eyed visualize
Forlorn in demeanor,
Thyself with heart in tatters.
Solemn and beseeched,
I'm near the edge
Of loves rapturous foreboding precipice.
Shall my torturous soul
Commit it’s self to the abyssal unknowns
Of sacrificial acquiescence to thee?
A force neither trustworthy nor forgiving
As it warms chilled hearts
And sooths with passionate death.
Unwitting those of lesser toils within,
True to their salvation,
But blind to its deceit
And yet give reverence to thee.
Alas shall I not gaze into eyes of splendor
Nor taste passion upon sweet lips?
Forsake the essence of purity sought,
And forgo righteous happenings within thy being.
To this unknown I ponder
And thus negates my apotheosis of thee.
Enlighten my sorrowful remnants of gayety
And subservient obedience to thee
As was once remembered.
At this I shall take that leap of faith
And boldly plunge thyself into the depths
Of your infinite sanctity
When I was a child I thought as a child, reasoned as a child, spoke
As that a child; but when I became a man, I left childish things behind....
Too many 'I's,' we find; tis not my thing this me inside, these eyes ? Mirrors
...."In Progress." *
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.