Name of the Contest: Snow Fantasy or Christmas Nostalgia Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by: Constance La France.
"Don't Christmas bells peal through each passage of time?" - Poet.
I think of the times when I was a child.
How, with glittering new garments, I smiled!
The stars, bells, and the animal idols...
Everything resembled solemn idylls.
My adolescence didn't change things much.
I had, then, imagined your gentle touch.
Hymns and carols gave a serene feeling.
Every scene in the church seemed appealing.
Nothing can be compared with that Christmas.
In which each thing, for us, was auspicious
In time's grace-filled tapestry, our threads met.
Our life, like the polestar, seemed to be set.
Our children adorned the cribs, then, each year.
With cuisines and gifts, we had unique cheer.
They got married, had children, and time passed.
We stood, to each other, always steadfast.
Fate has taken you away from me now.
I share my joys with each one, anyhow.
I find your image in knick-knacks and gifts.
I'm feeling within too, the time's soft shifts.
Winter Roses - Mystic 11-8-25
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Winter Roses
white winter roses
amid the wrath of blizzards ~
born in summer wombs
seeds baptized by rain
birthed in warm breaths of sunlight ~
autumnal surprise
frosty solstice queen
dressed in a gown with sequins ~
winks with aurora
pink frost party dress
hues of jewel tones glitter ~
cold winter thriller
magical snowbells
descendants of vernal joy ~
wears chilly bloomers
peppermint ice roams
with soft pompoms like snowballs ~
stays to kiss springtime
polestar spreads her seeds
as tempest breath turns sultry ~
artic roses sleep
mystical flower
a rose blooms at the manger ~
yuletide miracles
Why should we bleakly tread alone?
We know our paths are peril-prone.
Come dear, let's travel together.
Let's dare to face each rough weather.
Should we not shun from arrogance?
Shouldn't we hold our elegance?
Shouldn't games have lines of scrimmage?
Shouldn't we loathe our false image?
Our fates, like sea-depths, are unknown.
Yet, we have our lone moral zone.
Though our voyage seems to be far
Let's, with hope, look to the polestar.
In my tender age, darling, and in yours,
Midst looks... smiles... within, yet, with many wars,
Timid, insecure, nervous, bashful, shy,
Watching all around whether there's a spy,
Planting that rose betwixt index and thump,
My blood pressure rose as my heart fast pumped...!
The rose inside my heart tingles my veins,
Pricks my flesh and bones and my body pains;
It jumps, leaps, bounds, walks, bikes, runs, and, dances,
Toward cloud nine, at random advances;
Years, though, have passed and seasons have altered,
Its color, shape, and form are not faltered...!
Scents and frankincense fragrance, within, spreads,
Beads of faith and humility it threats;
Thoughtfulness and caring and compassion,
Become ceaseless existential fashion;
Temporal tasks turn tranquil; trouble-free
This rose, sure, is, the polestar of my sea...!!!
22 March 2023
The Rose Inside My Heart Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Rhymes Checked At: Rhyme Zone
Syllables Checked At: How Many Syllables
red dwarf stars compete
to over shine giant stars ---
the polestar simpers
30 January 2023
You see me at my birth,
Like a fresh flesh dumbbell;
Sing lullabies with mirth,
As silent as mumble;
Ease me, in quilt of care, lest I fall and crumble...
You fix your eyes on me,
At my sleep dream and wake;
Tingles and smiles in me,
You make like fancies fake;
My psycho-physical soul-soothing solace sake...
My childhood you take care,
Like hens to their chicks do;
Adulthood with joys fair,
Like petals and blooms, glue;
Crystal-like, my thought and words, you make glassy true...
When I face test of death,
When God calls me home back;
My body with no breath,
Lies like a torn rag sack;
You pave, for my journey, a peace-filled divine track...
May my moments, betwixt,
Beams of hope, Angel dear!
May my mind and heart fixed,
On God the polestar rear;
Thus, may my grave, heavenly womb-like comfort bear...!
12 December 2021
''A'' Forms, New Poems, 10 or more lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
As we enter into marriage let me tell you,
I am from Mars; You are from Venus; it's so true.
Reciprocity in dealings should be new view.
Doubts and contradictions rise, sure, in loving hearts,
Doesn't the full moon seem a bit darker in some parts?
Let's be truly engraved into love's cautious arts.
Is walking hand in hand to malls and meals enough?
Paths of Himalayas, though seem fancy, aren't rough?
Can I hold you and you hold me in times so tough?
A man-woman bond is like a hand-cart, I feel.
Each one needs to lend our hands, full of zest and zeal.
Stopping and pushing must be sure part of the deal.
Realizing these, may we unite in a knot?
True knot should not by infidelity bring blot.
May God be our polestar and lighthouse of our yacht!
26 July 2021
As the moon bled into the night,
The waves danced with the lilting wind,
He stood there remembering her, how their souls merged
Like the sand and the sea,
She was the flower, he, her perfume,
She was the sea nymph, he, her song,
She was the breeze, he, her direction,
She was the polestar, he, her night sky,
She, the butterfly, he, her wings,
She, the hummingbird, he, her nectar,
She was the silence, he, her voice,
She was the poem, he, her words,
Together they blended well,
Leaving footprints in the sea of life.
Originally written on 04.09.2021 as Anacreontic verse,
revised on 04.30.2021 to Free Verse
As the moon bled
Into the night,
The waves danced
With the lilting wind,
He stood there
Remembering her,
How their souls merged
Like the sand
And the sea,
She was the flower
He, her perfume,
She was the sea nymph
He, her song,
She was the breeze
He, her direction,
She was the polestar
He, her night sky,
She, the butterfly
He, her wings,
She, the hummingbird
He, her nectar,
She was the silence,
He, her voice,
She was the poem,
He, her words,
Together they
Blended well,
Leaving footprints
In the sea of life.
04.09.2021
For Robert's "Relationships" contest
The night was calm and breezes free,
A silken gown wore the trees,
The night walked with divine beauty,
Firmament had an utopic shine.
A gift of nature was her voice,
Dazzled like a polestar with platinum poise,
A treble of heaven played by God,
The night was calm and breezes free.
Her sanctity was a dove of Venus,
Her music crafted an art of genius,
For thousands slept a sleep of heaven,
When the night was calm and breezes free.
What joy it gave has little claim,
The appollian treasure I had attained,
My vacant heart as a wandering bee,
Desparate for that honey of glee,
When the night was calm and breezes free.
All alone
just by myself
I journey through life,
Many walk alongside
but all along I walk alone.
Slowly, steadily
at an even pace,
Resting but a wee while
Milestone after milestone
I walk but wearily
the well-trodden path of life,
Never straying afar
Never wading into the rough waters
Just anxious to get somewhere,
Just eager to find myself
a patch of cool shade away from this
searing heat of the mid-summer day.
No compass in hand
No polestar to guide
No beacon beckoning
No sails set
No winds of the sea
to steer the course
as I voyage through life
just hoping to drift rudderless
into some safe harbor someday.
Every now and then
I pause to look back
and see only my shadow
grudgingly tagging along,
and this winding road
relentlessly trailing behind.
The surrounding silence hangs
like a cold breath in the air
and the waves of the turbid waters
urge me on into its stygian depth.
~"Any New Free Verse Poem" contest
by Lu Loo
Off all the skies, mine is not infinite
Not fit to aspire for when with a limit
It flaunts no sun or a polestar
Just dark, foreboding clouds by far.
Of all the oceans mine is most restive
Serene or stormy it is but quite tentative,
Not fit to surf, cruise or sail
with lolling breeze or boisterous gale.
Out of all the Gods mine is different
Not a pal or a foe --just indifferent,
Not fit to enshrine or worship
to form a religion or a fellowship.
Of all the lives mine is quite curious
Seriously funny or jokingly serious,
Not fit to tell or write about
with no mystery or labyrinthine plot.
Of all the desires mine is unique
It pacifies a little but revives quick,
Not fit to long for in just a trice
When no God or life seems to suffice.
~Meraki contest by Silent One.
In the corner
Is my pole star
Light and insight
Never blur
In the corner
Balm they are
For wounds of war
When sun is dark
Empty the park
In lingering pain
limps the lark
Inside the clock
Hours of shark
Roads are blocked
Rooms are locked
Sky has fled
Dreams are dead
I look for the corner
The soul warmer
Delight serene
Ever green
The brilliant shine
The mighty minds
The hill fountain
The lovely pens
Immortal stare
William Shakespeare
The world adores
Bard Tagore
Jibanananda
Clouds in calypso
Brilliant tussle
Bertrand Russell
I sit with them
Love the gems
A river shore
Ennui no more
Lovely grace
All silk and lace
Doves umpteen
My bookshelf green
In the corner
Shines the polestar
_____________________________
26/03/2017
Note: Jibanananda Das, a Bengali poet, writer, novelist and essayist, is often acknowledged as the premier poet of Bengali literature after Rabindranath Tagore, and considered as one of the greatest modern poets in Bengal.
As a representative taste, an interested reader may go through, BANALATA SEN in English translation at poemhunter.com
All alone, just by myself
I journey through life,
Many walk alongside
Yet all along, I but walk alone.
Slowly, steadily at an even pace
Resting, but a wee bit awhile,
Milestone after milestone
Wearily, I walk the well-trodden path of life,
Never ever straying afar
Never wading into the rough waters
Just anxious to get somewhere,
Just eager to find myself
a patch of cool shade away from this
searing heat of the mid-summer day.
No compass in hand
No polestar to guide
No beacon beckoning
No sails set
No winds of the sea to steer the course
as I voyage through life
Just hoping to drift rudderless
into some safe harbor someday.
Every so often, I pause to look back
and see only my shadow
grudgingly tagging along
And this winding road
relentlessly trailing behind.
The surrounding silence hangs
like a cold breath in the air
And the waves of the turbid waters
urging me onto its stygian depth.
~Contest "J" Poetry
~Sponsor: Constance La France.
"Own It" contest by Cyndi MacMillan
Still you are
with your lamp of trust
searching the gold coin.
lost in darkness
swept by coincidence
still you are
with your mast of hope
sailing to the polestar
lost in darkness
swept by coincidence
however
anchor is waiting
here or there
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