Long Rosy cheeked Poems
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Winter’s snow softly falls, flurries
invite me to a magic kingdom -
naïve of bitterness. Cold and warmth
tethered together - in lover’s arms, in hats and coats,
ethereal frozen hands over a chestnut fire.
Rivers made with planks of ice - bridges to a
macrocosm ecstasy of skating, sledding and more - all
against a backdrop of ancient oaks, maples and pines -
glazed with vanilla icing. Gilded Rooftops trill peppermint*
icicles. We snap them off and lick, like lollipops. Rosy-cheeked
children melt, in this serendipitous, wonderland of snow.
12/24/2016
*Illusion to candy canes
In the Dark Night Sky
In the Dark Night Sky, a “Pale Moon” now arises suddenly,
With clouds of ice sparkling in a frozen-cold ring around it;
While your bright, rosy-cheeked face appears as a paste-like
Image of a grinning and laughing White Dwarf so happy!
A Million-Times-Brighter-Hell-Hot Supernova emerges now,
With a colossal colored-array of jewels firmly fixed upon the
Trajectory of a brilliant star trailing and exploding its waves,
As it shakes its cosmic dust on all of your light-filled dreams!
Divinity travels through my veins like warm blood free-flowing;
And as one radiant supercharged beauty kisses God’s very face,
She finds His divine and infinite picture—His view of our Cosmos,
Where the souls of Mankind seek the final spirit of their being!
Wild Moon Dogs howl joyous echoes bouncing into an infinity,
As they choose to dance to an ancient song of peace and love.
This is the final message of the pale moon’s image cresting now
Lonely across the Dark Night Sky as it reflects God’s Starlight!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – November 17, 2015
(Unrhymed Quatrain)
taking an early walk along the shore
awaiting for the royal entrance of the new day
through His Love Divine---
I hear the whisper of the cold and gentle wind into my ears saying:
the arrival of your majestic prince of the universe has now begun
excitements I feel deep down in my heart
giving a fleeting glimpse at the side of the ocean
there lies the long ranges of mountain-tops
seems as if they hide him from me
giving me suspense on his final exquisite appearance
as the ebbs move gracefully on their way back…
carpeting his path
waves all arise welcoming him with their loveliest prelude
the cold breeze gently wafts the perfumes as peaceful as they could
a scent of the blue ocean-potpourri
filling the air up to the clouds then down to my mood
as my prince finally ascends unto the clear sky
through his radiant rays he sends me right away his glowing smiles
descending his loving touch mellowed by God’s Loving Embraces
from my face creeping down to my whole being
all I feel is his warmth: an assurance that forever He cares
a very wonderful feeling I can’t explain
I close my eyes and raise my gentle face towards his rays
trying to absorb all the blessings and graces he brings
Oh, what a great and wonderful feeling!
keeping still my chin up on high
exposing to him my rosy cheeked face as I close my eyes
then I protrude my lips
As I want to finally feel my Prince Sun’s warmest kiss
a kiss of my Darling Sunshine
a sweet kiss of love
the greatest and eternal love
from up above
Feb. 9, 2013 2.30pm
Note:
I love sunshine! My father gave me a ring when I was still young engraved with words Darling Sunshine because according to him I was born during sunrise. I lost the ring when I was staying in a dormitory as a student.
Sixth Place
Contest: Verse Poems
Judged: 3/12/2013
Sponsor: Poet Nathan A
Third Place
Contest: A Kiss of Sunshine
Judged: 3/25/2013
Sponsor: Poet Gail Angel Doyle
First Place
Contest: In Honor of my Fave Poem
Judged: 4/11/2013
Sponsor: Poet Andrea Dietrich
"Wedding Dress"
Innocence
betrayed a white page
divesting romantic notions
of a pristine life marked
by sibilant soft-tongued seduction
green apple plucked
wrapping serpentine legs like vines
rosy cheeked blushing
a student smarting around
Garden of Arden's Puck
captured essence
from a torn portrait
of picket fences
climbing soft caresses
towards the wild
bee's stinging under
the tightly stitched
waiting room of a
hemmed in
wedding dress
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"To drench your skin with lover's rosy stain.
A chance to find a phoenix for the flame,
A chance to die, but can we
Dance into the fire,
That fatal kiss is all we need.
Dance into the fire
To fatal sounds of broken dreams.
Dance into the fire;
That fatal kiss is all we need
Dance into the fire
When all we see is a view to a kill"
E nchanted by the elements, Goddess Earth excitedly
A rises, anticipating all her awe-inspiring artistry;
R eveling in the rapture of the rivers’ ripples or roses’ rare redolence;
T antalizing us with her talent for turning out utter transformations.
H er heart holds hues of happiness!
R obust and rosy-cheeked, she rambles,
A dorning arms of trees with amethysts in spring and apples in autumn.
D ancing from dawn to dusk and back to dawn,
I nstinctively and impulsively, she illuminates with imagery - in
A nd out and all about, she ambles ardently.
N ever endingly, this nimble nymph
C apriciously creates - combing sky with clouds and coaxing colors onto canyons,
E xuberantly and effortlessly embracing all of earth’s expanse effulgently.
R iding rainbows or rapids; rending rocks when riled, she regulates and replenishes.
I nherently and impressively imaginative, she is invaluable in
D auntlessly and dulcetly delighting with dazzling display.
E arth, who exhales exquisite breath, may your radiance ride be everlasting!
An Anagram poem!
A joy it is to see
planted in his honor
A Memorial Tree
Roots, memories of Milton
and a kind act for the ecosystem
Forget-Me-Nots shall be written
by your poetry pals, ‘till then
RIP
Lewis Milton Hankins
[Poet]
December 5, 1941 ~ December 22, 2022
Paris at Christmas
Paris at Christmas
city of lights for a week
streets decorated
Eiffel Tower lit
like a Christmas tree aglow
tourists staring up
shoppers bustling crowds
bells ring; children caroling
joy is everywhere
rosy-cheeked Santas
wrapping presents with ribbon
in department stores
light sprinkle of snow
sleigh ride through the Tuileries
wrapped tight in blankets
by L Milton Hankins
December 5, 2022
I Am Anaya comment: Feliz cumpleaños a ti! Belated, hope it was a nice
one Milton. Paris must be on your mind, your many memories of Paris
are joyous! 12/6/22
It was Milt's Birthday, and I could feel the joy in his poem, I felt it!
RELATED BY CHOICE
For my adopted grandmother Nancy Enloe
I met you at a friend’s house,
standing stately on your cane,
tall and rosy-cheeked like me.
In your smile, I basked and thought,
“Long-lost cousin, could you be?”
Like my great aunt long ago,
when you learned I love to write,
you gave me three r’s of verse:
Robert Wash, Service, and Frost,
and asked to read my own work.
Like my aunt in my childhood,
you invited me for swims.
In your pool, I splashed and laughed.
Like her, you asked to hear me play
my organ -the whole grand staff!
On a ten-day Rockies trip,
Jasper, Banff, and Lake Louise,
friends asked if you were my mom.
We smiled at that pleasing word
like Gilead’s healing balm.
One day, as we drove along,
you said just out of the blue,
that you’d be Grandma to me.
As if you spoke my own thoughts,
I grinned as wide as you could see.
Oh, once we got to be twins
in blazers you bought for us.
You knitted us two rainbow scarves
for walking in wintry air
or through the winds on the wharves.
You’ve been family to me,
all six relations in one.
How fun it would be to find
on genealogy sites
if we’re related for real.
No matter! It feels just right!
Christmas was never about God for me,
it was memories of warm laughter, rosy cheeked joys
for if God was the point, whose God would it be?
Xmas was about giving to your protégées.
Long, long, lost wishes of long broken boy toys,
Christmas was never about God for me.
Winter’s height held the beauty of childhood set free
of hunting and wrapping and folks overjoyed
for if it was God, we had three, whose God would it be?
This December wonder now past, gone you see,
gone with the cold, I’d not wish despair on July, this killjoy
for Christmas was never about God for me.
Once a year Xmas marks a sad crying spree
with nobody wanting to be home and little joy employed
for if God were the point, my son would be with me?
Perhaps, with grandchildren there be a jubilee
and this hollowed out husk of me will be destroyed
And Christmas will be about God for me
for it could be so, whose god will it be?