Come sit upon my deck, it is covered
with birdsong; bedecked in peace.
Come tarry; let me pour a warm beverage
of chocolate, tea or coffee. Listen
to the tweets, twitters, bird-sweets.
Come sit close, listen to nothing at all,
but the peace between two friends.
We will wait, we will watch for a.m. deer.
Quietly, we sit, side by side, as the sun
gives rise, reveling in God’s mercy -
day by day, with Summer bare feet,
sound mind, promise of newness.
Come sit, as friends do, then eventually,
their lips part with a passing remark.
Nothing cool or wise, just a soothing tone,
that lets the silent world know there’s life.
Quietude trains, it is painted with rain
and wildlife. Come, as the cool of morning,
touches a heart of flesh and pink pyjamas.
Come, as I sip my two-serving cup of peace
and quiet, whistles, hooting, no hollering.
There’s an occasional chirp, rarely a deer.
Here’s hoping. Yesterday, I spied one alone,
who hid behind a tree, momentarily, though
it did not see me. Come, I say, come. I watch.
We’d watch, or talk, or both. Perhaps, I’ve said
too much. Let’s listen, as my skin steams,
from my guzzled caffeine. Birds dance before me.
On this most unusual autumn day
I must say goodbye to an old friend,
a gigantic, ancient oak tree in my front yard:
You have shaded my porch for decades
enabling me to sit in my swing
on warm days relaxing, reading, and writing poems.
You have been the home of innumerable squirrels.
Little songbirds have perched on your branches
and serenaded me with their delightful trilling.
Limb by limb, you have been dying for a long time.
Twice, you have had to part with appendages, felled
by saws—at my reluctant bidding, but of necessity.
Some limbs have fallen on their own, in my yard
and even on the road!
Horrendous weather is coming, with ice and high
winds. For others and myself, I fear the huge limbs
on your right side that have been bare for several
years. How they creak when the wind rises!
The tree cutters will be here tomorrow.
Not even a stump will remain at day's end.
From this time forward, I will visualize you
where you once resided. I won't forget you.
Your kinfolk are still here, tall and strong—
as you once were.
May they thrive long after I am gone.
They bare the site of ancient days,
But embraces me with memories.
My wife advised I dispose of them.
She once angered me by hiding them.
When finding them, it felt like being
reunited with a long lost friend.
My wife had forgotten from whom
Those shoes came. But I'm happy
That she now understands why I
Refuse to part with them.
I treasure my special pair of shoes
Like none I have ever owned or worn.
Some parts of them are ragged and torn,
And shoe laces no longer fit in them.
Fashionable, they are not. In fact, they
Are clearly aged and unsitely, but I'm unashamed to wear them. They are
One of my most proudest possessions.
Useless and 'throws-aways' to everyone
Else, but to me, priceless.
Perhaps they look older than they are
Because I wear them a lot. They were
Gifted to me by my only grand daughter
5 years ago. She passed away 2 years
Later.
I called her Papa Girl. I intend to wear
Those shoes until I leave this world.
I see that winter has now broken,
steam fills each word, as they are spoken.
Cold air seems to fill the room,
as the stuck in side, brings on its doom.
The land is now covered with snow, and ice,
to go outside, we better think twice.
Slipping and sliding, as we bite the dust,
landing so hard, our rumps we bust.
I haven’t built a snow man, or ridden a sled, in years,
I haven’t had a snow ball fight, being in good cheer.
Now I am old, but I still remember the good times you see,
they will always have their part with me.
Be careful of the snow thats yellow,
cause it belongs to another fellow.
I can still make snow angels,
while I’m flopping around,
might as well do something, instead of laying on the ground.
When I finally, get back up to my feet,
I take two steps, and myself I repeat.
I sure do make a lot of snow angels you see,
once I fall down, the rest is all left to me.
Soft lavender dreams wafting in air
Cuddling my nose my eyes my hair
Sleep is the door open to fantasies
What will I see in tonight’s reveries
Will I be well rested when I awaken
My heart bested by desires forsaken
Will I feel red lovely warm sensation
Like I’ve been on a tropical vacation
I refuse to believe in nightmares again
I run my dream world in it I’ll always win
My muse is asleep and she’ll wake before
I’m ready to part with my pillow and snore
Is this it?
Is this the peak?
Is this the true reward for sacrifice?
Mediocrity?
Where are the endless laughs,?
And the youthful girls that steal old men's hearts?
Are men to be content with this?
Is this eternal bliss?
Who can give me the answers that I seek?
Love, was it ever real?
Can you, my heart? Can you satisfy my thirst for love?
Is this the triumph that I deserve?,
Mediocrity!
Wine and rye,
A temporary bliss that I no longer desire
Leave me, my lover! For you hold no place in my heart
Your face has aged and I have become sick at its sight
Shall I live without life?
Or shall I die without living?
A complex dilemma indeed but it's time for a decision
Help me, Oh Holy Father, am I to be content with this?
I ask again, is this eternal bliss?
Who can give me the answers that I seek?
Dear Mediocrity, I have made my decision,
I shall part with you at the end of next season .
follow the heart
it’s an art dear
to part with fear
Just one last kiss, my little stotty-cake!
You are my cate, my sweetmeat, dainty dish.
Be happy, hinnie, for your "Old Man"'s sake.
You've made me happier than I could have wished.
My sugar dumpling, custard, treacle tart!
Let's part with smiles, and try to hide the ache.
It couldn't last - we knew that from the start.
For us, there'll be no happy ever after.
Go off, embrace your future. Love and thrive.
This thing, this fling, was just a young girl's dream.
It was a pudding "de nouvelle cuisine"
- that's short and sweet - but how we raised the rafters!
Remember me. And, (if I'm still alive!)
I'll often think of you with love. And laughter.
Forgive me , it’s love , I’m falling for you
My heart can’t disguise
For your sake , I would fight till the skies , with courage aflame
Through fire I stride .
No fear can conquer , what I feel inside.
They whispers , ‘Such love can never survive’ ,
But what do they know of hearts kept alive ?
For you , I’d part with heaven’s own light ,
Even lose god’s hand if it gives you delight.
I can even win the battle , fierce by design ,
My soul reflects you perfectly fine ,
Powerful , intense spirits are align,
Our hearts forever are intertwined .
I was on the verge of
Laying my bare sole
Upon a patch of grass
My eyes noticed it
Amidst some
Green stripes
With no fanfare
A round, watery pearl
Your earlobes
At the time so lovely
For a fleeting second
By the way
Where are you currently
We meet to part with
Candle to get extinguished
An autumn swing
To be relinquished
The clouded face
On the brink of raining
out of the race
At the small window
The bus must leave
The pearl too
Waiting to melt
Neither the earrings
Nor the hair bun
The inexorable sun
A message to all worthy competitors in the Marathon this year.
It should be about camaraderie and having fun. When the finish line is crossed, I hope you'll have found that your time spent in participating has been worthwhile, and no one will be congratulating a plagiarizer or a machine.
I'm not taking part, (with apologies and admiration, Mark). There are too many issues that have been causing havoc in the Soup and because of them I'm seldom here. CHEERS to poets who run a good race!
Time was money was when a mindful mate
That gave me time enough to feel its feel--
The touch of grain and texture of its state,
How one hesitates ere part with the bill--
Crisper the notes harder to part was it,
The time it takes to wean out the wallet
That gives enough time to be wise and discrete
To look into, to wait, deliberate
That slows me down enough to weigh its worth.
UPI now cuts that safety circuit
That technology calls it empty mirth,
Not watch out, weigh and well in time to quit.
Technology oft looks an empty boast,
And I know well: comfort comes at a cost.
___________________
Sonnet |01.06.2025| change, money
Machine gun heart riddled with shades of grey.
A mind once sharpened by your own forked tongue.
Lovers' lips part with rumbles of a cannon.
Dew licked satin sheets - the highway to carnal desire.
Silhouettes of freshly washed skin dance in the night.
Passion rising like the souls of the departed.
Where do you sleep after your thirst is quenched?
Where do you go when your high knows no bounds?
Unfiltered needs not being met;
A fire put out before the gasoline burns off.
Passionate nights followed by cool seduction.
A waterfall of your essence coating my tongue.
Decisions made in a moment of yearning.
Your lack of understanding - my constant battle.
Why can't you listen instead of just hear?
I will free my enslaved exuberance,
since you can't be bothered.
Blow out the candle and climb into bed.
One of these days you'll get what you want.
And one of these days I'll learn that I won't.
Before you ask
The answer is no
I will never surrender courage
For a place of defeat and storage
I will not abandon faith
For a worthless attachment to an uncertain estate
I refuse to relinquish love
For a well-fitted but counterfeit glove
I cannot renounce my goal
For a destination that ambushes my true role
I will not forsake confidence
For a river that runs with polluted opulence
I refuse to discard determination
For a chance to keep company with resignation
I dare not part with humility
For a life that grants honor to futility
Before you ask
Rest assured the answer is no
there is an end
repetitive engaged
newer orders
where we come from
is where nothing returns
the service of birth
to not come home
on foreign soil
only to war
only for war was i thought of
this one will not win
this strategy of me
a world
they enjoy and toy with me you will
toil till death does its part with you
you tend to my munitions
i confer and advance
you engaged me
and again i gain ground
no fence?
know fence
no place
mine
handless land, crawling
time honored minute, non traditional
warfares itself upon the service
none shall attend
being built in a bottle
speak
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.