On the morrow ships will sail
To roam beyond the hidden veil
And brave the stormy seas to see
If ships holds carry destiny
Yet here we will to seaward keep
The watch that holds our wandering feet
From paths and fields and trees and thought
Believing in the lies we've bought
Waiting here on well worn quays
To count the line of endless days
We lie and wait and lie some more
That hope awaits on distant shores
And wind borne sails in misty skies
Will answer all to that which lies
Slumbering within our breast
Awaiting lifes first step to test
T'was eighty two wonderful years,
Before you departed to leave me in tears,
My loneliness hearkens to the fears left by the hearse,
Even the harmattan couldn't dry my streams of tears,
Because I know now you are no more near.
You left through the corridors of November,
Twenty eight is a number I will forever remember,
It can't even be withered by any winter,
As long as the sun shines and the stars twinkle,
I will remember you even after my cheeks wrinkle.
I came out first under your big umbrella,
You rhymed my name and I became a Cinderella,
You left me on a path illuminated in high candela,
You decorated my life with beautiful chandeliers,
You poured wisdom full into my many tumblers.
Before God made all the angels your trumpeters.
Now with God your soul now forever stays,
Your demise messaged more things than you could say,
To your honour I shall live my days,
May God almighty continue to guide my ways,
Rest on dad, till we shall meet at the heavenly quays.
Churning listless feeble foaming waves
Pods of Humpback whales splash and dive
Reflecting sunset’s waning rays.
As curly crimson clouds arrive,
Far Edgecombe’s volcanic cone
Shines bright in alpenglow, alone.
Cloudy embers ease into eve,
Flushing Ferrari fires from day
As sun dips for its nightly dunk,
In search of Neptune’s treasure trunk.
Bald eagles soar for lofty nests
Atop crowns of gnarled, ancient spruce.
As Sitka harbor lights wink on,
Ships cast lines, mooring for the night,
To wait salmon fishers at Dawns light
Boatsmen stroll the quays to cavort
In taverns nested by the port,
As stirring strings softly serenade
A music festival ode to night.
Come sale with me my suite suite rows,
Wheel flea together in corn rose,
I am your mussel soleful night,
Who byes you flours every knight.
Let’s sing suite melodies til’ horse,
Astride our whether beaten hoarse,
O’ my deerest blew eyed made,
Wee perfect pear, weave got it maid.
Come sale with me to the rivers and veils,
Enjoy the frill of wearing won scent vales,
We will say “May bee’ down buy the key,
Sew, as thyme goes fourth, love is our quay.
The son will shine as we ‘tie the not’,
Eye will sip fine whine, four ewe, may bee knot,
Tide, we hold quays that keep love in cheque,
Hoe deer! Forgot my lute, kindly pay the check!
28/10/22
Homophone Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Hat Bueckert
The mothers of blessings
now, are dead
No honey in the buds
No money in the pockets
No gracefulness in the flying-
glow-worms of full moon night
butterflies of May-days
The goddesses of blessings
now, are dead
The cacophony of city vehicles are alive
The quays of the port are busy with nibs
The lives of concrete are gorgeous at night
The slumdogs are dying in the hungry fight
The fathers of blessings
now, are dead
There have only complaints without solutions
Productivity forgets the equity, equality motions
Abundance of good advice find not good doer
Shoutings of alas; alas; alas are everywhere
The gods of blessings
now, are dead
The Department head said I have nothing to do for you
The Head of the corporate branch asked- here, are you new?
Chairman of the business firm suggested resigning from job
I'm the worker, nothing have to do, everywhere I'm chopped
© Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
28.06.2021
Quarantine divine for spiritual quest
Quietude with God to silence qualms
Quitting from stress toward solitude quays
Questions solved by Saviour’s truth quickenings*
Quandary settled through Scripture queries
Quivering stops by serenity’s quell
Quality solace I seek midst faith quips.
*1Peter 3:18 For Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh, but quickened by the Spirit.
March 31, 2021
2nd place, "SAVOURING SOLITUDE IN 7 LINES" Alliteration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by JCB Brul; judged on 4/23/2021.
The grandfather clock solemnly struck two.
In the pitchy night, shadows seem to flit about.
I close my red rimmed eyes tight
Yet I can see all around me for sleep eludes me.
I lie on my bed like a dead crab on the hot sand,
not daring to move lest sleep evades me.
I imagine phosphorescent planes flying over fallow fields:
This is not a night dream that conducts to slumber.
For dreams can be soothing, this is anything but.
Almost dark despair as my tired eyes are wide awake.
I shut my eyes and imagine red full blown sails
weaving their way in a rubicund sunset
towards their berthing quays.
How quick they arrive and I am sleepless.
I think of you, dazzling and lovely,
covered in golden sand....like the crab.
No, no this does not work much for me.
The grandfather clock struck six.
Did I miss a beat? Did I sleep?
I don't know, I feel like the dead crab.
I saw a homeless man
Begging on O'connell bridge
Behind him the dark stagnant waters of the Liffey
Flowing aimlessly along the quays,
All around him a large crowd of people
Walking to and fro
And somewhere from among the crowd
A kind-hearted stranger turned around
And walked over to the homeless man,
And bending down
Looked into his wrinkled weather-beaten face
His glazed-over drunken eyes
And empty paper cup beside him on the ground,
And spoke with warmth and understanding
To The homeless man
And listened to every word he said
And reached out with a kind and generous hand
And put some money into the empty paper cup,
Then straightening up he turned around
And walked away,
Disappearing into the memory of that day.
W.A CHOLT. Copyright Fergal O Reilly. 2008.
Dublin city
Along the quays
Over the bridge
Across the liffey
North and South divide.
W.A CHOLT. Copyright Fergal O Reilly. 2018.
30th September 2018.
VIKINGS
Erik went east to Yamal peninsula’s spring
For Russian hides and terrifying antlers
From the world’s biggest reindeer herd,
In April crossing the thawing Ob River,
Safe from predators : good hunting
And fully laden longboats. Now,
In a Bergen June, waiting at quays
On a clouded grey grave dawn,
Anxious eyes strained to sea.
Men home from o’er the horizon
In a still tiny longboat buffeting
Through the hurling combers,
Sail disappearing, reappearing.
Glad to have them home
From the deep unknown
Where only an oak plank
Separates life from depth :
As she crosses the bar
To ease down on
The gravel.
Lingering, we watch the quays
Rambling by the old seaside,
On brisk yet fluid August days
While gazes caught waves on a ride;
To mirror our bewitched displays
Like sighs, whispered low the tide.
Held by the light of moon’s flare
Compelled to cite, expose a trance;
You pinned a rose along my hair
O destined sign for lush romance;
And right then, you wished to declare
One love’s debut, one fateful chance!
7/14/2015
Isaiah Zerbt's Contest Quartets
QUIET RIVER WAKES
A river lays still on a hush
Of edges mild in deepened blue;
Until her trail unfurls a change
As if to wake from rare debut.
Beneath the stars first dazzling rays
Old marbles glaze on hillsides green
To roll like jewels down the coast
Embellishing her womb, serene.
Dazed by the fluidity of
This radiant bob, this duskfall thrill
Mutes my whispers as seashells play;
Requesting for a tide’s refill.
Should I dream then, for just a while
As my bare heels might softly tread;
On riverdance and air-tossed quays
To where this heart is blithely led.
.................
Rhonda J. Saunders' Hidden Beauty Contest
1/20/2015
The moon has a face like the clock in the hall,
She shines on thieves in the garden wall,
On streets and fields and harbour quays,
And birds asleep in the forks of trees.
The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,
The howling dog by the door of the house.
The bat that lies in bed at noon,
All love to be out by the light of the moon.
But all of the things that belong to the day
Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way,
And flowers and children close their eyes
Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.