Up a mountain apart Jesus then led
his closest friends. To the summit they sped.
Bathed in radiant light
he became dazzling white.
“It is good to be here”, Peter then said,
though with James and John he was filled with fear.
A cloud overhung, no meaning was clear
for them to make sense
of this moment intense.
“Listen to my Son; it's Him you'll revere.”
Mark 9.2-8
Categories:
overhung, bible, christian, gospel, jesus,
Form: Limerick
She was lounging in my kitchen, in her yellow leather jacket
When I cautiously unzipped it, and spread apart the placket
I pulled the garment down halfway, up until her waist,
Exposing jacket’s underside, plush and creamy suede
Fashion notwithstanding, the yellow hide belied
The character of the wearer, snuggled up inside:
Pale and unassuming, she was delicate by nature
And the prudent thing to do, was not directly touch her
So I gripped the jacket's bottom, atop the leather, smooth
Beneath the overhung bodice that I just removed;
Her head was bowed, as if contrite
Which I took off — in one big bite;
Satisfies me, as does bread
When I eat such carbs, instead
And is the reason that I, Hannah,
Am enamored by banana.
Categories:
overhung, health,
Form: Rhyme
I Am Moved
A chalet was there with overhung eaves
and there she sat by an elm with its leaves
the rays of the sun embodied her shape
her diaphanous dress left me agape
no one could dissuade my impending scheme
to venture up close and discourse of love
and know that I reached the breadth of my dream
brazen enough to let my love gleam
attempting to plant my seeds for to sow
stunned by her beauty I bid her hello
she gazed up at me and padded a chair
I sat and she smiled to lessen my fear
she lifted my heart to waft in the air
I entered her Eden for my love to swear
Move me Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux
June 13, 2019
Categories:
overhung, love,
Form: Sonnet
Scarce had it rain'd - blue hued
drops showering down;
in the witching hour I rode,
where the earth is overrun by weeds,
yellow fringed with black-eyed-susans;
trees overhung with wild cherries.
Pacing past the sequester'd glen,
following the trail where tall beeches grow:
long sleeved and long limb'd;
and leaves falling in curling frills.
Then I heard a merry song;
a fiddle played, from the hills beyond.
soon turning round a winding bend,
a field of dripping june bells;
I sighted them, a thousand and more
in blue slippers scatter'd wide.
Seated myself on a moss cover'd stone,
as one aptly does after a long ride.
Somewhere beats an earthly heart,
someone breathes a heaving sigh;
Eyes turn to the darken'd clouds hanging by,
and to the lowering skies;
then far to the place where airy spirits roam,
and to the sepulchred ground
where unruffled I lie in my grave,
under the tufts of june bells.
© 24/4/2013, Gautami Phookan, All rights reserved.
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Categories:
overhung, beauty, death,
Form: Verse