Long Well matched Poems
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When Summer starts her transitory reign,
King Sun, her beau, has steadily ascended,
brightening a sky that, for a time,
shall be his lovely mistress’ domain.
He reaches out his welcoming warm rays
across the span of Summer’s first official day,
lengthening them just as far as he is allowed
so he may well receive his paramour,
enveloping her in the fullest of his golden grand embraces.
But when night descends, Sun’s power wanes.
His wife, a goddess, the fair and steadfast Luna,
arrives to spell her king,
along with her attendants, a host of radiant stars.
Meanwhile, Mistress Summer softly slumbers,
faintly breathing out the warmth that Sun has wrapped her in.
So even in the dark’s coolness, she prevails.
In the dewy dawn, when she awakes,
Summer sees the beauty of her lover’s light and eagerly,
she spurs her King Sun on.
No two were ever so well-matched as these,
for both heat up the days with their consuming ardor
till the time of the equinox
when Summer is exiled for nine months,
to have her rebirth in the following year.
And year after year, for what could be eternity,
Sun bides his time, for he has many lovers. . .
But as lovers go,
it’s Summer who’s most expert at inciting the passion in his soul.
by andrea dietrich/ Motif is nature. Also romance
For the Impress Me Contest III of Giorgio V.
APPASSIONATO
He made overtures to her,
With the time-honoured chat-up line,
“We could make sweet music together;
I want to make you mine.”
She conducted herself quite cautiously;
Remained composed and calm.
A duet might be pleasant;
And he certainly had charm.
But she didn’t want to rush things,
The tempo should be slow.
He wished to proceed allegro,
She favoured adagio.
She played second oboe,
While he was a double bass.
They came from different cultures,
A thing she found hard to embrace.
And so she resisted his overtures,
They really weren’t well-matched.
She had an affaire with a flautist instead;
A thing with no strings attached.
2nd July 2019
Music Theme Contest
Sponsor - Geraldine Taylor
"The Forest, The Lot and The Carpetbagger"
In the middle
of it all, in
The Forest,
I was asked
by a soothsayer
to choose
a number
1, 2 or 3.
I said
in all sincerity,
“that’s a bad number, 3.
someone always feels
left out discarded; now
if you get down to it,
about playing cards,
well 1,
is rather obscure,
concealed,
not easily expressed,
or understood,
no fun, just 1,
waiting for the deal
to be delivered,
to be done,
you could wait forever,
as just number 1, where's
the fun in the dance
as the unknown, unseen
stoic 1."
So I chose 2,
me and my shadow
2, I’d bring the
other with me
like a pair of
socks, well matched
walking off the page
walking off
win-win
with the shining
light, the payload,
the winnings,
the lot, at end of day
like a carpetbagger,
when fortune
tempts fate
walking its
very very fine line,
Risk asks for the payoff
and in exchange,
for trust and faith,
the long night
and dreary day
over all are saved;
opportunity knocks,
the door opens
it is now
unlocked,
I walk through,
poetically speaking,
I manifest the lot.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
"An Event Destined to Happen in Your Lifetime"/White Feather Tarot
I’d kissed at least one boy by age fourteen.
Disappointment was the taste it left.
Although it was short, it was far from sweet.
In contrast, my second kiss was lengthy.
Its honey lingered in my mouth all night.
Oh, Alabama summer of my 14th year!
The month was either August or July.
Visiting my best friend Sheila’s state, I met
her 19-year-old cousin Glenn
(a preacher’s son was he!)
Wearing a skort (I still remember it-
(a half skirt, half shorts outfit with patterns red and blue).
I got into the back seat of a car with Sheila’s cousin.
She sat in the front with the driver, her boyfriend Jack.
Glenn liked to tease and make me laugh.
I was a cherry red/raspberry blue popsicle
melting in the sweltering humidity,
but melting too with the thrill
of sitting next to handsome, winsome Glenn.
Jack drove us all around and up and down
so many rolling hills.
My stomach too was rolling with excitement
(Glenn’s arm had found its way around my shoulders).
Before sunset arrived we stopped to park.
I don’t remember where. I didn’t care.
Feelings I had never felt before
were now exploding! I only can recall
those soft, smooth, sweet, long kisses
into the night
and a song on the car radio, its lyrics crooning
“Marry me Bill . . . I love you so, I always will. . .”
YES YES YES my young heart swooned!
So innocent was I in my tight blue top
with the well-matched blue/red skort,
reveling in my youth's greatest joy
in that back seat as my friend Sheila
was in her own world making out with Jack.
Glenn must have been at least on his
hundredth or perhaps five-hundreth time around the block,
and there was I with him -
naive and dreamy-eyed
on that perfectly romantic summer evening.
July 21, 2021
For A Lovely Memory Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
He sleeps soundly
not a sigh, murmur or stir,
while restless in my dreams
I toss and turn unheard
to find him in his comfort zone
still and unawares
that I am here.
When morning comes
he doesn't wake
as I rise to shower and dress
making coffee, toast, and eggs,
the aroma wafting thru the house
and still, he sleeps
undisturbed in our bed.
I sip a cup
quietly with only a glint
of rising sunlight
as birds softly begin to sing
awakening to the new day
the clouds begin to form
and here comes the tip tap of the rain.
I put in the wash
laundry from the workweek passed
and Saturday begins alone again
while he sleeps,
slowly, he rises, slips down to the kitchen where
his arms wrap around to hug and kiss me,
aren't we a well-matched pair?.
Interpreting Poetry (mine)
Similar to scrutinizing
an abstract painting,
this author begetting
obscure words dumbfounding
readers, he eludes
(no shade tree fore rest)
clear cut discerning,
yet oft times his words
garner reviews raving
esoteric word choice,
how mind boggling
to this logophile despite
more than one reading
brow (sir) furrowed -
cognitive region scrunching,
no matter intent concentration
utter futility attempting
bedeviled comprehension, whether
literary master (me? ha...
not yet), among pantheon partying,
but nonetheless birthing
present day profoundly thought provoking,
undoubtedly tirelessly expending
mental energy eventually exhausting
effort in futility understanding,
asper mine stymied
linkedin attention getting
(then just as quickly losing)
registering resignation defeat alluding
to challenge physical prowess daunting
engagement well matched savvy sparring
partner, or possibly life
and death battling
against unwittingly aggressive brutal questing
archenemy, sans toward all living
species wretched nemesis ultimately deciding
mortality tacitly accepted proffering
transient longevity refusing
to compromise, haggle, negotiate,
et cetera casting
deadened demise of victor or villain
all thru civilization starring
as unopposable tour
de force quietly biding
end date, versus indiscriminately snatching
hero, heroine, coward,
et cetera requiring
impossible ransom while donning
mask of Melpomene
(Tragedy), or trumpeting
Thalia (Comedy), no exit stage door left
only joie de vivre
until last second ticking
unbeknownst unexpected, and uninviting
deathly hallows ringtone alarming
anonymous (oh Henry)
words worth struggling
to hash meaningfulness, viz
finite existence germinating
since birth, yet
terminal realization pressing
with greater frequency when aging,
and deafeningly ear splitting
amplitude bite the bullet clamoring
to tread welcome matt acquiescing
unavoidable phase of dying
devoid of any bargain, but requiring
unconditionally punishingly suffering
silent non binding
resolution, no exemption decrying
unfair contractual obligation, nor unionizing
worth a fig yore of
speech as cosmic arbiter
blithely doth shear - pruning,
without rhyme nor reason meeting
identical fate toward everyone
even posthumous destiny yours truly awaiting.
I had an offer to play a game of scrabble online
There was no chatting in the room to give me a sign
about whom my worthy opponent could possibly be
but we were well matched by the score, I could see
Assumed it was a guy from the name he was using
My Mistake was his screen ID, and I found it amusing
I'd been Southern Lady for years. No need for a change
Then, he made a word that made me feel a bit strange
My forehead and brows furrowed as he played 'heart.'
It was a triple word score to which I added 'break.'
On his very next turn, I frowned when he wrote, 'lady.'
I was suspicious. Something about him was a bit shady.
Caution warned me to be careful, but I stayed and played.
With twenty-two points on his turn he wrote, 'persuade.'
Could it be that his words were hidden messages for me?
I was being silly until he added honey to the word, 'bee.'
It's what he called me during the years we were married
The thought that it was him left me anxious and harried.
My heartbeat was racing, and my apprehension was riven
until on the board he wrote, 'sorry' and I added 'forgiven'
Ode to Fanny
Her start in life was rather poor
with wastrel parents, ones to abhor
She avoided living in the gutter
Earning enough for her bread and butter
Her break in life came rather later
Before, bigamy and babies to underrate her
Her kids grew up in the care of another
She never took to being a mother
Her culinary skills proved rather good
She could write and critique on all kinds of food
Destined to star in sixties telly
She graced her shows in glitzy finery
Her zany persona was rather dippy
Her dress was ball gown and misplaced lippy
Shunning apron and hat that looked so drab
‘Cos cooking and baking should always look fab
The man she had met was rather fine
Ex army major, life was divine
They fronted shows as man and wife
Fanny and Johny, well matched and no strife
Her fame continued for rather a while
Overridden by others in different style
And gaffes too many, they booted her out
No telly shows, no gowns to flout
Her recipes of the past still rather great
She put pizza and prawn cocktail on our plate
She and Johny, always a couple
Poor but content to remain conjugal
Ooh rather!