s . . .
t
f
As clouds d r i f t a
June’s winsome wind w
my m a d r n
e n e i g mind
In his heart is burning aggression
And violence is his lifelong confession
And sure he might wear nice shoes and a tie
But that's a masquerade mask to suit the lie
A barbarian in heart and mind
He rarely fits in with the civilized kind
Dancing on his victim's grave
He assuredly is a dastardly knave
Devilish desires feed his fury
Quelling the fire inside he seeks to bury
There is no sense in the violence
But also no peace in the silence
Your voice is not noise
Even if powerful people it annoys
If allowed to continue the meandering neanderthal
Will be the fall of it all
Vast as a landscape, not a straight but a meandering one
Sometimes placid sometimes storms, but always moving
It is alive; always flowing getting lost in eddies of distraction
Sense of timelessness flowing for millennia,shaping the earth
Thoughts shape you like a quiet meditation on introspection
It doesn’t always follow a straight path and takes its time.
"There's a river meandering through the mind"
I love nature and wandering among the green trees,
and following the bubbling path of a cool blue river;
as it meanders and twists by jagged rocks and reeds,
where ducks and swans make nests in the shade,
And when I go to sleep at night I meander that river;
I explore and rest upon polished by years stones.
I really like watching the sweet fish swimming along,
so graceful, and quite impossible to catch;
the sun reflects in the water and makes them like gold,
like angels floating here and there so beautifully.
The birds sing in the leaning trees a symphony for me,
with a thousand callings drifting in the forest air;
o, the river is moving, flowing, going somewhere for me
so always, there's a river meandering through the mind.
It is a beautiful spring day,
birds are singing their little hearts out.
I am rocking in my favorite rocking chair,
as a cool breeze covers me like a blanket.
What could get better than this,
I ask - as I sit and ponder?
"There's a river meandering through the mind,"
with many thoughts.
Thoughts are running wild,
like the river meandering around each rock.
About days of old and how it was,
days that are gone forever.
Guess we cannot get time back,
a river cannot get its water back once it's down stream.
Just like the river meandering away,
we are both stuck here in the present.
Oh how my mind looks to years past,
longing for the good old days.
Whenever I look upon his poems
I wonder: Why so many words today,
words concerning so many things, expressed
so aimlessly as if to meet a deadline?
He must have so drifted, rambled,
this way or that, who knows?
Today - or was it yesterday? -
he wrote of the creature who lives next door.
Oh, human, of course, but this is how he thinks.
This week - or was it last?
Is this the way poets work,
writing many words, throwing some away, using few?
Perhaps he astounds his own senses.
Neighbours always seem like that.
Neighbours! They always seem to be
there and here and there.
Just like these, oh so many quite odd words,
today or yesterday or tomorrow.
What rambling, meandering!
Is there no way to halt, stop, cease?
(9 Oct 2023)
I have a dream and a wish
and a great thirst to write
to fulfill an innermost need
deep within
to nurture my soul with words
like a cozy blanket of memory
and let thoughts flow
communicate a messages
open the curtain of long ago
and write
a letter to the world
a poem
where I expose my scars
my wounds
oh, I have a story
to tell
of a life like a garden-ravaged
and I am on a voyage of discovery
my poetry will become my legacy
like beautiful blossoms in the bright sun
meandering stream
splashes on pebbles, whispers ~
sad tales of lost love
I worked very hard
I worked harder than I thought
Day in and out
wind e c h o e s through tangled emerald trees
and nature has painted me a beautiful sky
a masterpiece of swirling and twirling clouds
and all around me NATURE is wondrous
as I touch perfect purple blooms growing sweetly
and caress tendrils of a vine
oh, how I love
their twisty, curling and twirling way
and the FOREST is a rhapsody lovely
with birds of all kinds singing from hidden places
so, I pause and listen to their symphony
the highs, lows and the s h r i l l s and trills ...
______________________
March 21, 2022 (inspired by an old poem)
Poetry/Free Verse/Forest Meandering
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1441-389-21
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, A Brian Strand 1094
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 03/23/2022
First Place
meandering thoughts
dearest, loved friend calls out
after the human
meandering thoughts
a dearest, loving friend stalls
at the old human
meandering draughts
lonely, loving friend thirsty
watching them drink up
12/13/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Meandering stream of dreams,
That flows beside the old willow~
Where laughters of my childhood echo
Upon the river rocks of blue and yellow.
I throw a stone upon her bosom~
To see at least a tiny ripple,
Instead I see lilies blossom,
In the meandering stream of dreams.
September 9, 2021
For “M” Contest, New Only Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
‘Your choice’ Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Join us in our blissful meandering spree
Circling around our yard, leisurely free
My special child and I --- bonding with glee
Expressing partnership of “Mom and me.”
Guiding him in wheel chair for sun-bath drive
I delight that steadfastly he does strive
Maneuvering well, so we can arrive
There --- for fresh air bask, exchanging high five.
Wheeling himself with mobility zeal
Gladly he zooms along triumphant-feel
Swerving midst community lock down seal
Thanking* God for welfare and good health deal.
Heading for home, indeed graciously blest
We turned to chapel for soul-prayer quest
Praising Christ Who grants strength in journey’s zest
Propelled by His grace, upholding faith-test.
Now, reaching abode from meandering’s reign
We’re filled with serene satisfaction gain
Genuine contentment, smiting pressure-strain
Sufficed for wellness-fulfillment, not vain.
*1Chronicles 29:13 Now therefore, our God, we thank thee, and praise thy glorious name.
Narrative in Rhyme form
September 18, 2021
1st place, " 'M' Contest, New Poems Only"
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 9/19/2021.
Meandering
a speechless glee
allowing the dust of purpose
a cleansing breath
shedding the garment of time
playing hide and seek
with your shadow
no past – no future
only lazy footsteps
guiding you
in a wanderer’s waltz
9/17/2021
“M” Contest, New Poems Only – Poetry Contest
Often meandering,
With forks full of potholes;
The highway of life.
It's not the yellow brick road...
With Dorothy
Prancing along.
Caution must be exercised;
Gentle on the gas pedal...
At all times on our travels.
We eventually reach
Our destination
We aren't in a nascar race;
Patience is
Of paramount importance!
Life's serpentine freeway
Couldn't be more treacherous
We either obey
The speed limit
Or risk recklessly
Careening off.
"M" Contest - New Poem Only - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Theme chosen: Meandering
Date written: 09/17/2021
Sub Categories
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.