Long poem by
Ian Howard | Details
A Bluto is not that Disney dog
It was when a mewling
that I would scream
Should they wet my body
And then apply cream
Ablutophobia – fear of bathing, washing, or cleaning
Achluo the demon that lurks
In darkened corners
The long toothed life suckers realm
I am scared as the sun dims
It seems to bare my soul
Achluophobia – fear of darkness
Acro what did they do
They called me acrobat
This will not do
I get giddy standing on a matchbox
Please get a net to see me through
Acrophobia – fear of heights
Agora just shut that door
I am staying here forever more
Bring me food put it on the floor
The letter box is just for you
Don’t, Don’t, try to get through
Agoraphobia, Fear of open spaces or of being in public places. Fear of leaving a safe place
Agrap stole my feelings
He caught me unaware
I am now afraid of sex
don’t ask me anymore
It frightens me that’s for sure
Agraphobia – fear of sexual abuse
Agrizoo an angry gorilla I knew
Wild as hell was kept in a cell
As all his kind, even a timid Hind
They scare the crap out of me
Please let them run free
Agrizoophobia – fear of wild animals
A gyro is just what I need
I will fit it to my trusty stead
He will fly straight across that band
A tarmac nasty throughout the land
I cannot face the walk you see
Agyrophobia –fear of crossing the road
Aichmohe got in a hell of a fight
They killed him with a pointed knife
It will come for me just you see
I cannot even mend his cloth
Won’t touch a needle at any cost
Aichmophobia – fear of sharp or pointed objects (such as a needle or knife)
Ailuro he lived next door
The bastard sits on the fence
To me he snarls not a purr
A Persian he is supposed to be
Frightens the *****out of me
Ailurophobia – fear of cats
Algo, Away, I am pain free
This morphine is the best
First day of pain free rest
Been told that it will return
Got some gas, peace I yearn
Algophobia - fear of pain
Andro I’d rather be (android)
I am metal and plastic you see
Electric person not man or woman
That would be so sad
If just a man I would go mad
Androphobia – fear of men
Antho the pologist got the plan
He put concrete throughout the land.
Not one shrub or flower seen
Not one blade of grass green
A flower would make me scream
Anthophobia – fear of flowers
Anthropo was a lonely man
Wouldn’t mix with others so
He lived in a cave, well just a hole
You would see his eyes peeping out
A shaking frame if people were about
Anthropophobia – fear of people or the company of people, a form of social phobia.
Aqua marine or even the wet stuff
Is enough to drive me mad
I stay in when there is rain
Just wait for the sun to shine again
A damp tissue that’s quite enough
Aquaphobia – fear of water. Distinct from Hydrophobia, a scientific property that makes chemicals averse to interaction with water, as well as an archaic name for rabies
Arach no, and know the score
Those creepy creatures on the wall
Send shivers up and down my spine
Six legs and venom to drive you mad
I am running already it is sad.
Arachnophobia – fear of spiders
Astra my name you would think of the stars
My gaze goes up but not that far
To the first cloud there in the sky
If it’s the shape of an anvil I will fly
Fear grips me and I don’t know why
Astraphobia – fear of thunder and lightning
Atychi that was about the size of me
The others would just make fun
I was no good to anyone
A failure of the first degree
Nothing my goal, was all I could see
Atychiphobia – fear of failure
Auto matic I will seek people out
To touch to play as long as they are near
Don’t leave me in this place alone
A singularity is my biggest fear
I will hold anyone you see I care
Autophobia – fear of being alone or isolated
Automat o no it’s not true how could you
An advert that’s telling just lies
Don’t all the others realize
What you say is not true, put it right
It will drive me crazy I’ll keep out of sight
Automatonophobia – fear of anything that falsely represents a sentient being
Aviat o if you think I am going in that
No I am not a scared ***** cat
If we were meant to go fly
Wings we would have from him on high
Fold your machine and put it just so.
Aviophobia, Aviatophobia – fear of flying
Chaeto he was a Greek of old
Bald as a badger so the story is told
But why you say is there no cure
For him to grow some lovely hair
For him it would give such a scare
Chaetophobia – fear of hair
Chemo therapy keep away from me
Chemicals scare me I know they are free
But to have them coursing through my veins
No matter how good they are, and that jar
The fear of everything for what they are
Chemophobia – fear of chemicals
Chirop to or not too so I am told
They stick in your hair best to be bald
Now I find that my nails are made of hair
Chirop is what I fear not chiropodist is that clear!!
Just shave my head and cut my nails dear
Chiroptophobia – fear of bats
Chromo shines bright in my eyes
The fear of all colours I realise
Now I am safe from a troubled day
Into my dark room, I have found my way
Knock when that sun has met its demise
Chromophobia - fear of bright colors
Copyright © Ian Howard | Year Posted 2012
Long poem by
Abder Derradji | Details
Mother nature oh! Rose of roses!
Mother of all flowers' and smell,
Ylang Ylang! You don't know what it causes!
An aphrodisiac turns you on like hell!
Sandalwood with its masculine warmth poses,
Rosemary clears the head, you can tell,
Peppermint purifies blocked noses,
Patchouli the meditative, it does sell,
Orange oil refreshing, stimulates since Moses,
Chamomiles in variety and bluebell,
Mandarin the sweet floral in few doses,
Helps you digest and makes feeling very well,
Marjoram helps a positive mood,
In creating and lemon oil reduces the stress,
Lavender the cleansing oil is surely good,
Juniper Berry soothes and tones the muscles in mess,
Geranium the relaxing prepares you for action,
Cypress oil relaxes you twice and once again,
Cedarwood calms and makes ready for attraction,
Basil oil with prairie's odours is the main,
With Myrtle the antiseptic and carminative,
And Niaouli the beverage that it was,
For Neroli, the aphrodisiac is very active,
Origanum, Pimento, Pine oil and Rose,
Pettigrain, this is a citrus vulgaris,
Calms anger and refreshes the mind,
And the sedative, hypotensive Amyris,
With Angelica the stimulation you will find,
The Aniseed, Pimpinella anisum,
An antiemetic, diuretic and an insecticide,
Likewise in Anise-star, illicium verum,
All the same remedies you will find,
Laurus Nobilis, this is Bay-leaf oil,
Analgesic, cholagogue and hepatic,
In sweet styrax, Benzoin when you boil,
Vanilla flavour, a deodorant and cephalic,
Citrus Bergamia, Bergamot like orange,
An uplifting in character for anxiety,
In Birch tar, Betula Lenta you need courage,
To kill pain and thank the Lord Almighty,
Black Pepper, piper nigrum spicy sharp,
Cajuput oil, the herbaceous and penetrating,
In a singing-like circle with a harp,
Helps the heart, and respiration in circulating,
Cinnamomum Camphora that's Camphor,
Since Chrosroes the Babylonian King the wise,
Surely was part of civilisation and folklore,
For the Eastern powers that fall and rise!
Caraway, Carum Carvi is sweet!
And a flavouring agent in all your food,
Adding it when marinading your meat,
Aromatise the entire dish that will be good!
Cardamom, Elettaria yellow flower and pale,
Very spicy and digestive from the East,
The Arabs praise it in their coffee call it "Hail",
And the Romans took it after each great feast,
Carrot-seed, Daucus carota has a past,
In skin diseases, teeth and gums and the sight illness,
Its effect on red blood cells is very fast,
With the right blends it surely helps the body fitness,
Apium Graveolens, celery is fresh and warm,
That was a symbol of funerals, death and grief,
It was believed in ancient Egypt nay in Rome,
To cure swollen limbs and to relieve,
Cymbopogon Nardus that's Citronella,
In wax candles helps mosquitos to disappear,
Its oil is used to beautify and make the "Bella",
In look and smell and feeling...what's more to hear??
Clove, coriander and clary Sage,
Cumin, Elemi and Dill,
Thousands of oils won't fill the page,
Eucalyptus and Fennel they heal,
Fir, Frankincense and Galbanum,
Garlic, Ginger and Grapefruit,
Guaicwood, Hyssop and Helichrysum,
This is immortelle oil to suit,
Jasminum, the waiting King at the doors,
A perfume for lovers to indicate,
A seduction imported by the moors,
To Spain, then Europe to fabricate,
Its uses along with Lavandin,
This hybrid of true Lavender and spike,
Was exploited in soap trade to begin,
Then turned to perfume-making and the alike,
Lemongrass is a very reviving,
And Lime, this citrus medica,
It does match when mixed with Mandarin,
And with Nutmeg could be a "replica,"
Linden Blossom oil is a slightly spicy,
Litsea Cubeba is a floral and fruity,
In Melissa, the honey-bee you fancy,
And Myrrh the musky, symbol for beauty,
Palmarosa, they say "clarifies the mind,
And Parsley was named after "Petros,
In Pine oil, good feelings you will find,
Rosemary has affected "Ethos",
Rosewood, this "Bois de rose",
A "Jacaranda" is known in Brazil,
A real deodorant in dose!
Sage was believed in Rome "To heal,"
Pimento is known as "Allspice,
And Santolina is still a pillar in medicine,
With Spearmint the smell is very nice,
In Tagetes the citrus flavour is never lasting,
Tangerine the hypnotic and Tarragon,
Terebinth the balsamic the vermifuge,
Thyme the thymus vulgaris that was born,
From the tears of Helen-Troy that grew huge,
Tea-Tree oil is sanitary Australian,
Verbena makes a love potion pot-pourri,
Vetivert, this earthy fragrance's never alien,
To the world of perfumes, competition and fury,
On Violet the odorata was said,
A symbol of fertility in Greece,
The perfume that Marie Antoinette preferred,
And in Yarrow a help for diabetes.
Copyright © Abder Derradji | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Eileen Manassian | Details
You wonder why, my love
These memories flitter in the hallways of my mind
Knocking on the door
of every room
Where I’ve hung
Do not Disturb Signs
For I don’t want to remember you
My Paradise Lost and yet….
Oh, you wonder why, my love
I still rise to open the door
Why I fling them open wide
When each memory comes calling
Why I let them come inside
And sit here at my table
While I play the gracious host
As I listen to each memory repeat
The love story I love most...
You wonder why, my darling
I sit in rapt attention
Dabbing at a tear
While I smile
A sweet smile of remembrance
As one by one
They kiss my cheek in greeting
They all sit around me
Each one vying for my attention
These sweet memory guests
Are there to make sure
The visions are ever fresh
And so one runs his fingers through my hair
I close my eyes
Giving in to his ministration
But he couples it with kisses on my nape
To keep me awake
For he remembers the times
When your fingers playing with my hair
Would entice my eyelids to close
So the kisses he keeps coming
For what is to come...
The other memory holds my hand
Making love to my fingers with his own
Intertwining and releasing
Whispering in my ear
In husky whispers of love
And I melt
At the resonance of his voice
The memory of enticement
I gaze down to look into the eyes
Of the memory guest sitting at my feet
I see there the devotion
Of someone at a shrine
As he looks up into my eyes
His hands on either side of me
His palms caressing my legs
Kissing as he goes along….
They are preparing me
For the memory that has been waiting at the door
He watches intently
My favorite memory
There just inside the room of my mind
Of my wildest fantasies
He has been here before
He has been here often
What nights those were
When he would ravish me
Till I could hardly breathe
Fatigued and spent
In the aftermath of his
Now he stands
And though I try to rise
To close the door
I’m held back by the others
Whispering all around me
"Let him in
Let him come in."
A smile plays on his lips
As he sees me weaken
His devouring eyes take in my form
I feel the heat of his gaze
As his eyes feast on me
In my revelry of love
And at his signal
The other memories quietly leave
I look at him shyly
As he draws the filmy dream curtains tight
Blocking out the light of reality
Blocking out everything but his entity
He walks over to me
Stopping to light scented candles
Stopping to make me feel
His close proximity
He is near
He looks down at me
Claiming me before even one touch
"I’ve come my passion flower
I’ve come again to make you bloom
Like that first time
That first time
You opened up to me."
And then he is here kneeling at my feet
His breath hot on my breast
His hands gently probing
His mouth tasting
His tongue teasing
"You are altogether beautiful"
And I can only sigh
As the memory of that first bloom
Comes alive in my mind
And he takes me again
Like that first time
When I discovered
What it means
To find release
Quivering on the edge of
Suspended in time
As I give in
And let the streams flow
Like the tears that fall
Glistening on my rosy cheeks
And as I lay spent in the silence
Of my own dark and dreary room
Savoring the fragrance of my memory
My memory of you
My first sensual dawn
My first taste of the heady mix
Of pleasure and pain
I know I must rise
To close the door of my mind again
This time I will lock it
This time, I will throw away the key
But the memory of that first bloom
Will find a way
To visit me again….
Oh, my love
For I cannot forget you
And that very first time
You made me...
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Mohamed Manzur Bah | Details
I was taught by my father to be obedient in the dense forest to save the individuals trees, stop destruction to plantation. I cannot be silent under the detriment from lumberjacks to global emissions; I cannot sleep in the night, because I am employed to deter exportation of trees to chickens labs.
Zero is nothing, but I see the money you are waging wars for is written in zeros My chest is congests with carbon monoxide, I monopolize to defeat the bunch of exploiters, I expose them to exposition. I prefer to die with dignity than to live with dictator by the dictionary, dictions are sweet, but they cannot boil eggs.
Stop cutting the trees from terrace to the crest to Red Cross; I eliminate elements to elucidate through the data. I cannot stop imagining and exonerate exodus to the red sea, bring me hope with oath middle October. She doesn’t need fire to fry cakes by the equator; the sun is enough for her sauce pan to boil billions hertz in seconds.
Stop blinding yourself expose those deny you pure Oxygen; I cannot focus my entire life watching TV to realize you are destroying the environment to global warming as inevitable. Look the earth giving musky smell from the oil leak Gulf of Mexico to environmental degradation to Dakota pipeline to war zones. You fail to learn to lead liquidity to economic boom and to stop bombs drops and draconian laws.
Self-egotism on the rise, civilization on the fall beast of burden to bondage the voyage teaches you to take responsibilities for the things you done. Stop to ply garbage by the routes, I cannot stop to fight with pen and paper to save the Amazon forest; I prefer to rescue you than to lay you to rest. Pious people pioneer our thinking to streams so that when the dams run dry still fry fishes by the sea, the smiling ray is sufficient to wake me up in the morning with happy face.
Stop forcing relationship to wrestling, the snow drop punches on the faces of lumberjacks, I contend to condone the conundrum classical mistakes. There are too much of earthquakes, from the squad to the volcano eruption to volatile and vodka drink, I lost appetite to capture by the time I approach the rapture to erect optimism. My factory is my dearest entity that entitles me to think not like the monkey, I cannot ignore the forest it is the source of my livelihood to rendezvous.
I farm by the river to listen to the music from it, I shelter myself under the canopy to plant fruits to get definition of love and I irrigate the land to protect ecology to ecstasy. I excommunicate cult to cultural calendar to clap for clandestine magical to philanthropist promises, I officiate protocol to pronounce protection for my environment. I cannot afford to drink liters of water to clinch thirst into intoxication; I used to see lions in the jungle defending the forest now they are forced out without a single trace.
Sahel in fire the hunger is on the rise, famine from Somalia to South Sudan, kids are denied the opportunity to fill their bellies to billions of food shortages. Sudan to sadness, you ceded from paradise to civil war, the jungle bears nothing than disappointments. Warlords loaded their barrels guns to funnel difficulties, the oil you prospect proven to poverty and ultimate nightmare. NGOs engage to gauge the situation to situate hope from hot temperature to flash flooding.
The problem bang to testimonial catastrophic save the surrounding before you are surround by your actions. Climate changes on the rise, bush fire from Australia to Chile and down to Africa, as the expectation more disastrous to ecological detriment to catastrophically phenomenon. It is too dangerous because of heavy demand for fuel especially in Africa to holocaust health situation to air pollution.
Copyright © Mohamed Manzur Bah | Year Posted 2017
Long poem by
Simon Roshan | Details
Away in a manger, wrapped in cloth was a baby no one knew who he was may be, yet a star showed him, who he was the shepherd worshiped the savior the wise man bowed down, not knowing who they were naturally
Herod tried to kill him not knowing his time has not yet come the prophet prophesied the sovereign god the child jumped not knowing it was in a womb surrounded
As he passed the street the blind saw, the lame walked the deaf heard and praised god, the leaper was cleansed there was not one stone left unturned people tried to derail him from the cross but it was us in his heart
The soldiers tried to wound him not knowing it is for their wounds to be healed they put a crown of thorns on him not knowing it is for their curses removed they nailed him on the cross not knowing it is for them to be free they put him in the tomb not knowing he will raise on the third day most of all they thought they had defeated him not knowing they have just paved way for his victory
O ,lord how can I thank you what can I give you I consecrate my life to you oh what love that forgives betrayed yet with a smile he said love you my child
Copyright © Simon Roshan | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Details
Neither a dream nor a trick, I beguiled--
I reach the sky enameled with golden smile.
To hurdle bumps and curves, I continue to pedal
this steadfast being yearn to step on a pedestal,
I found at the center of a fertile square mile.
Train piercing thorns didn't blind eyes to behold,
a sunrise stored to each and every intricate fold.
Some jasmine fragrance afloat-- satiates my smell
lost hope resurrect to impregnate a lifetime tale
as fragile attached hearts trying to enfold,
The autumn trumpet hues a runner-up palette
to your summer vibrant colors ballet,
eyes wander feast on your swells of panache.
My fingers drown to trace river edges bends, posh--
enthralled, above moon bowed shedding candle sprays.
Open secret scents, you effused stirred plague of souls,
the tempted sirens in one sang a victor goal.
The listening wind hush and blows the beats
swaying leaves to dance in left to right fleet.
Catalyzed by the sun rising daily at morn call,
I am inspired to traverse every norms' womb.
By your petals slow zoom, I find myself in chorus bloom.
Rooms of my mind open to hundred ocean thoughts
which soon aims to recite it's symphonic notes,
I... compelled to nectar strings of burst abloom.
Goodness! War and peace didn't wilt our affair
eversince Zion answered every whispered prayer.
My experiences with you are pearls, dearest flower,
consent me then to carry and share them 'til forever,
as here on garden earth, I meet you as my soul pair.
4:44 am; November 25, 2014
No cross. No trial. Not even a dark storm will stop me
to climb the highest mountain if there-- a sublime beauty
awaits for me.From tattered highways to plain narrow roads,
I will stroll alike-- a fearless lion roaring regal
With sunbeams glowing ember above my head, I behold
an Aphrodite dwelling beneath a labyrinth fold.
Perfumed fragrance rides the swaying breeze-- luring my hunger
to taste some love. I, like the Aurora, rise in wonder.
Oh! This sojourner's sight is arrested to your splendor.
In a blue skied ambiance, will you care to surrender?
The autumn leaves are like free-falling birds from maple-trees
pretty,but a runner-up to summery hues you play.
Big brown eyes meander feast on your petals of panache--
my fingers slowly prom to outline your edges. I, charmed,
as even the mystique moon curves, casting some dim light sprays. . .
Hours passed yonder am held captive by the spell from you Belle.
so enthused, the reflections, I have zoom as I dispel
castle dreams that draws a happily ever after tales.
The apex now I reached - a diva I am as I sing
rhapsodizing sweet the Nirvana I happened to see.
I thank God that the world wars didn't bobble this encounter
True... the years may ebb but this I will always remember.
Dearest flower, my experience with you is priceless,
consent me then to apportion this until forever
in this Eden Earth that only you~ Belle is my soul pair.
Sponsor Roy Jerden
Contest Name The Makeover
7:28 pm; March 11, 2015
*** Note: the original in the form of quintella the new one in iambic heptameter or quatorzain.
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Dale Gregory Cozart | Details
It is an unseasonable March day.
My kitchen blinds are drawn against the morning sun,
their slender slats like new skin protecting the body's vital organs;
eyelids before this rose-covered tablecloth as though the blooms
are the pale larvae of our future, still coiled and sleepy,
not-yet-flowers at the sill of this too-early spring,
who would murmur, if so evolved: We are not ready to be born.
I perspire at the sudden heat; the ceiling fan beats downward
onto my damp corner, this alcove of waning winter.
But the flowers: the muslin washed to faded smoothness,
the blooms asymmetrical, each calyx waiting like fingers clasped
in prayer to blossom into a new dimension,
a simple heartfelt request to rejoin the living.
And there are rhododendrons, pink with their baby freckles, the tiny stamen-fingers
reaching past those same pliant slats, this time of the crib
of their incubation, to touch softly anything of the strange newness
of their coming fruition. We are dawning, come the earliest babblings;
they know what they mean even if we do not. The first alien syllables
fall on deaf carpeting and the semi-gloss of these pale walls,
absorbed and forgotten in the stiff pleats of similar-colored curtains.
In this house, in these manufactured shadows, I am still of winter,
of our shared grief and shame at our compelling
obscenity of civilization, knowing full well that this structure
stood as shelter against the recent, freezing rains, the showering
silver spears of a marauding infidel, who, as the earlier mulch of autumn,
has come to dust, spent as the bride whose wedding dress
falls away and disappears in the tatter of fallen leaves
that soon dry up and disintegrate. In its place, in the folds of new skin,
comes a house of flowers, plant-life sacrificing itself on the altar,
using its own bodies to erect its shrine.
Suddenly this tabletop, awash in once-vibrant maroons, greens,
pinks and whites, is a crystal ball. In this sphere of the all-knowing
I see things as they will be. This table is a loom and the cloth
a tapestry, each thread a component of the fabric to come.
And the flowers: roses unscrolling; chrysanthemums bursting
into the applause of dozens of tiny hands; hibiscus, the silent trumpets,
all laid out on a bed of stems and leaves woven as the threads themselves
upon which their likenesses have been cast, like a portrait
painted in their own green blood.
But these dragons stationed at the gates of paradise
are only cotton heroes; it is March. It is too soon.
This sudden heat will pass as this day passes, its images
dissolving into memory as a stone obliterates the reflection
alive in a tranquil pool. What I have seen will be, but not now.
I am myself in this little room, the adult who must go
about the tasks of day. But I am also an infant poised
on a threshold, the golden crocus in first bloom, arriving prematurely.
And I am held at this brink of fruition by a body not sufficiently evolved,
being led away by a parent I barely recognize, who cannot offer consolation
as he does not know the vision I have seen.
As we move I look back, reaching with the bulb of my hand
and its tiny sprouting fingers, for the image growing
further out of reach, and I murmur gravely,
half in knowledge, half in absentia, the only word I can pronounce:
Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2017
Long poem by
Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Details
TO THE FLOWER
Your scent beckoned my weeping heart to painless flight;
amidst a garden where God dusts His pretty love.
Spring tints are pure and fragrant, free of guilt
Your hues painted another sunrise for my eyes;
when once I failed to catch the pledge of morn.
A seed of hope was born to white petals blush.
Though there are silhouettes of bitter yesterdays
must all the phantoms of illusions fade and leave...?
Your floating aroma stirred and shot my nerves;
inspiring a nightingale to sing some joyous laments;
It swayed with grace to dance on wind's despotic beat.
among the rustling leaves which hug the earth below;
So like the sun, which from distant horizon smiles;
it roused the sleepy world to begin the pen of baby prose.
The unfolding mystery of your petals brought
my bewildered mind to peacock's reflection.
Alas! All was transient. These eyes probe beneath
but were blinded by the intrusion of some stray shine;
Ambitions which from afar are building sprout;
t'is that which let this self to irksome doubt.
Lovely blossom of the wild, this sojourner nigh
to tame your perfume's sweet stinging scent.
A restless soul by some wicked, destiny pokes;
someone called--- but pity, I couldn't tell a note.
If by magic, a butterfly I could become;
Let it be over my being slowly span.
Then with you
(though the specters in our midst are fierce),
I could jet fly though miseries without fear.
But am just a mortal of faith that blows this wish
for only covenants call for my journey still?
I cannot be forever the one who would share your sweetness;
(Harken, fairies of blooms, this wilderness is not my lair.)
I shall not want to witness you wilt as no time left to stay.
Never again will you see me at day-break's bloom,
save something special for others to experience you.
This fleeting apparition I so adored;
promised me burgeoning petals.
"Be not afraid as seasons change,
beyond today, I won't be here to see that no harm
be done with all intentions to your sacred charm.
I leave you to Mother's Nature tender care,
for I must go to some greater musing-- heaven's ground.
Wilt not, as soon the rain will dash, refreshing you my dear.
If I return someday--
will your sublime scent still be here?"
Your Best Poem - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Free Verse, Prose Poetry, haibun - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Debbie Guzzi
POEM OF THE DAY: October 21, 2015
Inspired by Susan Seddon Boulet's painting:
©Olive Eloisa Guillermo
October 20, 2014, 10:19 pm
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Maria Williams | Details
Soaring Hawk poised high
Back drop a deep sapphire sky
Winds in attendance
Mighty wings unfold
Caressing the Wind Spirits
They lift and support
Circling Hawk perceives
Rainbow circle on a cloud
Framed is his shadow
On oceans of blue
Snow hills of clouds seem to float
On silvered ripples
Waves swell as they curl
White manes gracefully flow
Rolling to the shore
Higher still soars Hawk
Wind Spirits on either side
Carry him upwards
Land and mountains meld
Lofty mountains crown the land
Hawk gracefully glides
Towards the shore he observes
His island in bloom
Festooned in colour
Hibiscus - Red, Gold and Pink
In leafy bouquets
Flowers - Pale yellow
Their sweet perfume exuding
Riding on the Winds
Romance in the air
Couples hold hands and frolic
An Island in love
Hawaiian Hawk proud
Sees everything - land and sea
Wind voices whisper
Of Rebirth, Growth and Culture
Hawaii has heard
We recently visited Hawaii, one of our favorite holiday destinations, once again we were carried away with the ambience and peacefulness of this Island Paradise.
In collaboration with my Husband Ron, our inspiration came while viewing the breath taking panorama from the 16th floor of the Hilton Hawaiian Village Waikiki Beach Resort. The Waikiki beach, the beautiful gardens and the mountains all formed the picture. But we needed a story and the Spirit legends supplied the theme.
All this got put together on the aircraft on our way back home to Australia.
We have tried to capture and share some of the essence which is the Spirit of this beautiful island, its rebirth of culture that’s embroidered in the legends of a traditional Hula dance.
The Red Hibiscus (koki'o'ula) is the flower of the big island, while the Gold flower mentioned - The vibrant, sunshine-hued Yellow Hibiscus (ma'o hau hele) is Hawaii's official National flower. In Hawaiian culture, Hibiscus is a symbol of old royalty & communicates power and respect.
The Hawk Kaha Ka ‘lo - the highest Chiefs where often called ‘lo – ‘Hawk with eyes that can see everywhere’
Ku Mahani ‘Rising Wind’ has a position of power grace and motion.
Ka Leo O Haukine ‘The voice of the Wind’, is so named.
The two Winds according to the legend, are the voices of ancestors who listen and speak through the winds. Together they are the Spirits that uplift the mighty ‘Lo – The Hawaiian hawk.
Some of the imagery described is seen from the aircraft as it would be seen through the eyes of the Hawaiian Hawk.
The circular rainbow, for those who have not been fortunate to have witnessed this rare phenomenon, it actually does exist.
POTD 14th April 2017
Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017
Long poem by
cherl dunn | Details
Listen to the whispering's of the unhushed winds gently echoing,
Ever so softly swaying, as through a tender exhaled breath of warmth,
Delicately reawakening mother earth from winters hibernating sleep,
Broken, shattered is the frozen icy spell of polar enchantment.
The dreaming empress of springtime stirs, underneath her shifting
Melting ivory skirts of wintertime, nay she is ready to adorn another
Seasonal gown of magical rebirth, and life renewal.
In the distance hear the lone whippoorwill singing, to this timeless waltz
Of nature’s enduring elegance, breathless beauty amongst the evergreen
Pines, she stands tall again, shaking off the milky white coverings of powder
Snow dust, to expose rainbow blossoms of springtime!
Showered Goddess by sun-kissed golden light, shimmering shine within
The horizons canvas of brilliance everlasting design, walking in graces
Steps from heaven’s cherished, beguiling the spoils response, refreshing,
A gleaning harvester of life itself!
Oh sweet humming mistress, do not the bees covet thee, as their mystical
Queen of melted honey comb, buzzing amongst your garden magnificent,
Drinking deeply from pollinations yellowy treasured nectar!
Within the willows the breeze welcomes the maiden of generations,
Lightly waving among the daffodils delicate petals, brushing against
The dandelions bending shafts, tenderly caressing at this wild flowery
Meadow of colors contrast.
A gentle spring rain thus falls, to nourish and sustain the divine gardens
Of Eden’s paradise, tiny is the sparrow within these sacred trees of harmony,
Let what music she sings, of beauty’s tune of charms splendor in perfections
Feathers white of angels wings shed unto the world of men, as the world
Awakens on the dawning of springs revival and restoration, within opulence’s
Blazing sunrise, a lady of peace walks in tranquility's shadow smiling, dancing,
Underneath heaven’s merciful hands of hope, and devotional resolve for the
Future to burst forth!
She is the weaver, the crafter of roots sewn, the quilter of generations
Blanket, mother of the world itself, behold how this Golden Goddess
Shows her love by promises rainbow garden, cascading downwards from
Mountain tops, to the valley’s vast deep and wide!
Inspirations muse, I’ll kneel before your evergreen footprints of life,
Bowing in humble reverence, and respect, for I’m just a mortal being
Lost in the whispering winds of the timeless, a pondering poet,
The wondering bard captured in the spring time spell you’ve cast,
Blessed being known, as mother nature!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Dedicated to my friend whom loves springtime, and Daffodils!!
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2016