One best thing, is a mild winter day
Fresh air, not too hot, beauty on display
Instead of green grass, pure white snow brings light
Even when the sun is completely out of sight
The ice along the brook, forms crystals on the edge
The snow creates patches on the mountain's ledge
All is still , but the birds that I see fly
and an old leaf from fall drifts in air going by
Winter speaks when the wind starts to blow
And the answers stitch together, like something you sow
Heidi Sands
1/9/26
(C)opyright
mild heavenly breeze
respite from late summer heat
fall waits in the wings
Wherever You are living God
I want to live with You
Whenever You call to me
I'll come running straight to You
Wherever You are preaching
I'm receiving Your great love
Because You are my Savior
All day long I want to be Your child
Like baby Jesus in the manger
He slept there meek and so mild
Guide me along life's path
Never may I feel God's wrath
Summer Mild Night
Relax let the breeze of this mild summer night touch your skin,
Close your eyes,
Open your heart and mind
For a time! you make its long
Take deep long breath.
Open your eyes,
To look attentively at the stars in the sky
If it was cloudy, try again.
Young Malcolm was meek, rarely riled,
asking for korma, quite mild,
they all thought him nice,
until ordering rice,
that was where Malcolm went wild.
here is latest leak
what we always tried to seek
would be mild and meek
My poem "The meek/humble"
THE MEEK
Oh, praise be to the meek and mild,
Whose calm spirit humbly compiled,
A life lived with grace and care,
Deserving of admiration and prayer.
They stand tall without a boast,
Content to be seen as the host,
Of all the peaceful and pure,
A soothing light that forever endures.
Their patience is a welcome sight,
For they choose to embrace what is right,
Guided by that still small voice,
They always make the selfless choice.
The meek are ones who shall inherit,
A place in heaven just like merit,
May we learn from their gentle ways,
And follow in humble steps all our days.
For when we stand with hearts so kind,
The world becomes a better mind,
A place where love and hope take root,
And we can all live,
we can all flourish,
we can all be astute.
Written by: Abdulai kpaka Mansaray.
I never understood
the 'Call of the Wild'
Give me an easy-chair
~ weather sunny and mild
dark room
lightens
sunshine
brightens
outside
prime time
strong brew
sublime
red birds
singing
wind chimes
ringing
gold leaves
clinging
now brain-
storming
rhymes are
forming
jotting
phrases
nature’s
praises
daylight’s
waning
eyes are
straining
no more
stalling
night is
falling
indoors
I go
poems
in tow
November 9, 2022
entered in Brian Strand's Premiere Choice Contest Placed 6th
Stuff never children with lots of details,
Enough is done if we teach the basics,
Provoke in them a desire to learn,
Yoke them never like treating a bull,
Give them adequate time to learn,
Believe that they will surely learn,
Quantity mustn't be given value,
Quality alone must be considered,
Treat them kindly via a soft approach,
Greet them each time with a smile
Pat them often and encourage them,
Bat them not with severe criticisms,
Keep them at ease by your affection,
Peep into their hear often mercifully,
Cajole them with a feeling of concern,
Cudgel them not ferociously please,
Every child is purely God's messenger,
Free must be their thinking for results!
Mild obscurity
At the local supermarket, a woman not a day over seventy-five
asked me where she could find unsalted butter spoke
with an American accent.
What do I know, perhaps, she was related to the Kennedys?
By the butter- shelf we stood, there was a spark between us
like the Ronson-lighter I once bought in Liverpool, a heavy
lighter, I always knew in which pocket it was; now that smoking
is a sin the lighter ended up in the garage, only to be used
in extreme perseverance,
I had seen her before, in Trieste in 1962 she was a spy for the CIA
Smoked posh Monte Carlo cigarettes through a long holder
while drinking creme de menthe.
My wife stirred; leg cramps switched on the bedside lamp
and I was brought back to reality.
You Were My Whiskey;
And never mild those wild dead women.
And doing all of that on sinking ships.
Each one was you,
I drank one more.
Who knelt unseen and wild each kiss,
I miss the most between,
closed doors.
I cannot move,
from deep inside your couch,
I am some head,
you hang your hat and both, we search for.
While on your knees,
I think and then I think some more.
Each time I cough,
your lips grow tighter, I grow sorer still.
Brown bags lay emptied,
Wanting more of that cough syrup, over there.
I look at you,
you look at me and we are both the same.
Eyes that glow
and each red slit a fire that melts us both inside.
Those deep black circles, fraught by flame,
I touch your eye it does not move
inside it's socket, now glazed shut.
Mercy me, and sweet that nun.
Honey how She knew,
and he rose up and simply walked away.
The habits bad and neither stay.
and whiskeys better, as you empty every bottle.
And here we sit again alone,
sharing wild forgotten kisses on the floor.
a.s.
His life as risky as a goldfish swimming in a bowl
As a bunny living with momma in a rabbit hole
Never crossed a street without looking both ways
An angel in school, drawing teachers' praise
One morning he awoke in a cold sweat
His trusty alarm clock he'd forgotten to set
School would start in less than half an hour
Without a balanced breakfast, his future looked dour
So he skipped the meal, threw on some clothes
Caught a bus without fanfare or fuss
But as he got closer and closer to school
He saw it was Sunday ~ Was he Mr. Cool
Tomorrow hovers, an uncertain ghost
trying to recall how to haunt.
The calm is over, the leafy drape dropped.
Beyond the window
sparrows are digging trenches,
feathered preppers pecking on the edge
of a dim and looming sunset.
November peeks out
from under a russet and smoky skirt,
It is losing its color
turning into a pale harbinger,
beckoning us into darker dreams.
The climate is finding its ice roots,
it spooks the blood.
Time to shake out the woolens,
those bullet proof garments of winter.
Tomorrow is coming
and it is pulling the dead
behind it.
Walking through the woods on a fall day
Nature's blessing before winter has it's way
There's always good ahead
Snowflakes settling on my head
A rare mild day before winter says good day
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.