Under the pale hills,
Enchanting and elusive,
Autumn's jewelled mists
Reminding me, once again,
All things are transitory.
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Half-bathed in mauven...
How compelling the far hills.
Wistful; yet...lovely.
For always these opaque hills
Forever pulling on me.
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Never forgetting;
And on sparkling, misty days,
Lifting on sunshine,
I will see your faint outlines
Etched against reflective cloud.
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sponsor : Constance La France
29.9.25
Placed : 3rd Standard Contest
_____________________
“Love is the Supreme Artist Unseen” Poet
with a silent kiss does sperm enter egg
butterfly fondle pollen in morning dew
starling swallow caterpillar askew
with silent kiss does sunbeam caress window sill
spoon dips shallot soup with gentle will
waves ripple shelly shoreline in thrill ~
with a silent kiss does newborn lick nipple
cloud embraces cloud, fluff huffed ripple
bud petal unfurls to air in dare
wrinkled stranded beggar’s knobby hand
smooch offered seeded loaf, prime brand
hands warm curl steering wheel, feel genteel
anchor lands on jewelled ocean floor
with silent kiss does sewing needle pierce
linen white, knife smear butter delight
dolphin fin rouse whale tail, ship returns lipping
the silent kiss but Love in polar need
destined to meet in embosom’s clasp
receiver with giver unmasked grasp
~~~~~
“The Path towards REMEMBERING is not for the weak. It is priceless. Move inwards, without faltering & know that you are held.” Poet
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
journey within is strewn with jagged edges
and jewels
both can lead to detours
walking a straight and narrow path one
traverses own jungle untamed
lame sometimes becomes our resolve
not to forge ahead beyond crags or rags
is not an option once undertaking begins
screams may merge with songs or dreams
cream alongside starvation or salvation
a luminous beckoning lighthouse at end of tedium slogs hold us steady
often makes us heady
in solitude with faith we need make no haste
knowingness with Heart’s compass surely
keeps us safe
neither hazard or hurdle makes us curdle
Soul the master of destined fate never late
to turn cherished key into jewelled Home
within is majestic prize to win
Inspired by the Iron Maiden Song, Tears of a Clown
Drinking, he recalled the Circus Grim,
and the strange world that ruined him.
He had done anything for a laugh.
Once, the magician sawed him in half.
He'd traveled the whole country round.
Now tears fall from the circus clown.
An orphan child, running from disaster,
fell into the service of a cruel ringmaster.
At first, he was never seen on stage,
laboring to clean a hungry lion's cage.
In dreams, he wore a jewelled crown,
and he rose to fame and renown.
The juggler, fire-eater and contortionist,
joked with him and the beauty he loved best.
It was then, a drunken challenge, he made,
and, to his surprise she accepted, unafraid.
She caught his eye as she came down,
a moment frozen for a circus clown.
His secret love, he thought, flew like a dove,
enchanting him, like an angel above.
No matter how he tries, he won't forget,
the trapeze girl who missed the net.
He'll swill whisky until he drowns
in tears, the broken-hearted circus clown.
A Beautiful Collection
Artistic. Brilliant colours. Dainty embroidery.
Fragile golden hues in jewelled kaftans.
Light multicoloured needlework on patchwork quilts.
Rich silken tapestries
Unusual vestments with xstitching. Yarmulke & Zucchetto.
On powdered crystal wings Heaven descends to humbled Earth
Sparkling glimpses of jewelled treasures to some elegant worth
Pure, immaculate white no matter the depth to coming twilight
Billowing through myriads of veils, all fingerprints in first flight
She now dares to fall where she must, from dream in flutter
Dancing delicately...Swirling...Twirling into suddenly crisp hover
Shifted...Swayed...She enthrals my leaping, dizzying fascination
Like no other before, I marvel as she defies hurling gravitation
Intricate kaleidoscope of spirals linked and apart
Glittering feather like you float to repose my heart
Scintillating fragile, beauteous rays, for always
Imparting uniqueness in all ways, for always.
Neon fingers
banish the remnants of the day
Dustbins loiter ominously
blurry eyed
The Night people slide in between
Sailor doom bewitched by sorceresses
as heckled men face electric spears
Stet the occasion
A drawbridge opens
staining the gangster day
Outstretched palms
preclude the day
Jewelled ghost trains
ordinately take you
further away
Velvet dolls with a brainy side
watch stale commissioners slide
Star clad ingénues infuriated evermore
Nights infusion
bleary eyed rivals
in Soho tweed
Pharaohs joke was here
Denim clad oxymorons
with spotlight eyes
Archways lean close
as sticks befuddle
their spark of epiphany
A jewelled silence
captures the gangsters in silhouette
Freaks five a penny
prolapse the night
A Blessed New Morning
Smoking clouds, skylight change
Palm trees and leaves that range,
Time of day, crowned with jewelled hue
Against the ethereal, seeming blue.
Placid waters drink in radiant shadows,
Music coloured by dew kissed meadows.
Gold, green, darker shades glow
The Master Artist, we all ignore.
Stop and watch this beauty unfold
As His art He doth ne’er withhold.
Enjoy the sight of wondrous scene
Duplicated not on His canvass green.
Praise the Lord that lets us dream
Hope in Him no matter how extreme.
flaking paint
on peeling buildings
throws
clock fingers
through the last plumes of yesterday
Argus stained waiters
Gargoyles chewing on cigars
Smile till swede
Worshiping the harlequins
Sailors with denim eyes
velvet dolls with braided smiles
worshiping the dreams of night
and the Serpentine dulls grey, disowned
OLD AND NEW 4 : CONTINUE TO SING
Sipping cold champagne in silver
cuff links at Thai restaurants
eating red curried prawns
while workers gape at
former leaders sold
Forlorn women starve
in naked hospital corridors
rulers drool in blue pools
with pink jewelled lovers
Rushing from airport to airport
bargaining for who knows
On plains of poverty children
whimper bony arms in
tattered sad sleeves
Slick smiles in linen jackets
mansions highly securitied
Ideals trickling through loamy soil
deep it will surely root anew
Waves upon waves descend
embracing hills with a roar
and throaty directions
to stop senseless hacking
Life rebirths from an unknown hole
Continue to softly sing simple
songs of freedom
exhale from a glittering axis
knowing sacred geometry
©GhairoDanielsPoetry1998
Every year she waits for spring
A proposal…jewelled ring
And the joy that those would bring…
Swept by winter’s cold…to hope she’ll cling.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A Lind30 Rhyme Poetry Contest
By Chantelle Anne Cooke
Placed 3rd
© 8th April 2022
Where are the rains over field and meadow,
on plain and high country for so long quelled?
To dampen cracked earth, to make all things grow
till the crops are in and the herds have swelled.
Where are the season’s long drought-breaking falls
when the grid’s mighty river turbines turn?
Pacific gales and Southern Ocean squalls
on grove and vine, on forest silver fern.
Where are the cloudbursts a winter storm brings
and flash of thunderbolts hurled from the sky?
The misty jewelled bands of rainbow rings
over catchment to end the long Big Dry.
Soon the snows will melt into the spring thaw
and its first early rains return once more.
Written: July 1992
Emerald leaves, tall-standing trees A stronghold of burly branches
At Mother Nature’s gentle whisper Colourfully, a canopy transforms and unveils
Burnt oranges, rich crimsons, and butternut golds Jewelled leaves radiate in the September sun
Then in perfect harmony, Mother Nature sings again, this time with Old Man Winter The two foreshadow foliage’s imminent, hue-darkened demise
Yet, those lovely leaves persevere and perform, obediently and graciously Hence, one by one, they descend and succumb
Perhaps, I too, need to heed the loving ways of Mother Nature
To mirror the change of seasons within my own wounded heart and mind And then, gracefully like the leaves
Embrace the time to glimmer and the time to let go
@katladyt_t
February 25, 2022
With powers vying to have us ruled
The lull of liberty has us fooled
The rich and mighty sweep it all
And callused hands are rarely jewelled
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