Short Bides Poems

catkins
   murmur
spring bides...

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a still shadow in the pond - a mollern bides its time...

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Brand new life arrives
Screaming into the sunlight
Winter bides its time...

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perches low enough
and bides an early farewell~
the sun in winter...

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The poet’s muse bides dormant till - 
Germs of thoughts and gems of words ignite -
Barren page blazed up by his quill. 

January 4, 2020 ...

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O-nly
L-ove
I-s
V-alidly
I-mportant
A-nd

P-ure
A-ffection
R-emains
A-s
D-evotional
E-motion
Z-ealously
A-bides

Topic: Birthday of Olivia Paradeza (February 08) 
Form: Vertical Monocrostic...

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shadows lengthen
chestnuts roast-
winter bides

catkins murmur
easter eggs-
spring tides

bluebells chime
wasps picnic-
summer stays

flower presses
fruit preserves-
autumn frays


Haiku sequence form...

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Owlish wisdom
Prophetess sees
Treats delicately
Bides her time

Gently watching
Soul’s auras
Recognizing danger
Keeping counsel

Startled dark ones
Leave vicinity
Recognizing owlish wisdom
Fearing prophetess...

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based on a photo posted
on media today
of King Charles III


         bitty boy bored
wedged between babysitters -
        queen is celebrant…
prince-heir bides seventy years
beholden crowds cheer his crown...

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dried memory lost...river forgets to flow in desert...waits for rains
longing turns debris...heart unlearns how to conjure...architect time bides

December 30, 2019
Contest : Ku Duet
Sponsor : Silent One...

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Right in the corner of her eye

A tear of joy bides its time

Aching to accompany laughter

To make the mood sublime,

Eager to prove its worth

To add a splash of joy

It waits for the right moment…

Is it a girl, or a boy?...

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haiku seasons
frozen in epigrams 
tripping from a pen

shadows lengthen
chestnuts roast-
winter bides

catkins murmur
easter eggs-
spring tides

bluebells chime
wasps picnic-
summer stays

flower presses
fruit preserves-
autumn frays...

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Spring always brings forth a smile
     Just ask a butterfly

Summer lightens every heart
     Just hear the skylarks cry

Autumn colours tint our view
     As daylight waves goodbye

Winter ,sleeping,bides its time
     When all nature seems to die....

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Beached the sun-bleached bottoms
of small boats color the sand scape,
safely turned bottoms-up
far from the high tide’s line.
They lay in wait beneath the teardrop rain,
huddled from the bay’s breath, they hide.
It is only the lap of languid wave that bides.



Boats Beach, Eastham Mass 2012...

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In a defining lust,

two souls entwine,

to join together,

where ecstacy bides,

and the temple divaricates,

thy love radiates,

their lust permiates,

as the emotions dictate,

the greatest passion resides,

where the temple furcates,

and those two hearts collate,

together forevermore!
...

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beating wings
the night bides hidden things
comes another world under the moon

the story of magic nights in the month of June
for these mythical hearts the day will come to soon

splendid tales that innocence may weave
reality's reprieve
make believe


Barbara Gorelick
8/23/12
Night Melody-Trois-par-Huit...

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"How long can Love wait?"

The world could end tomorrow; 
we hold the world in our hands,
and Love waits, bides its time;
when the call comes, for Love,
we run and hide, or we shoot strait -

How long can Love wait?

The world could end tomorrow 
we hold the world in our hands 

the Heart's closed, 
or an open gate

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
...

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The brother of my mother's father
Together better never gather;
But when the mother boldly bothers
To get together both of brothers,
The bother bides upon the mother,
That bets that she would never bother
To bind the ties between the brothers
Who’re rather bound to kill each other.

January 12, 2020

Contest: Tongue Twister
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter...

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Dampened earth announces its worth
with rotting leaves, moss on trees.
Dew’s panache from morning’s wash
mystic glow with sighing sough.

Senses heightened and enlightened.
Hare bides hole, fidgeting mole; 
musky muskrats, batting bats;
sweet sugar canes, berry stains.

Nature feeds our feral needs.
Nature clears our eyes and ears.
Nature hones sensitive nose.
Nature touches - grand duchess....

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Awake before dawn, he jumps into his clothes
   slides, headfirst, down the curling bannister
inhales a bowl of cereal -- Thanks, Mom! -- 
   and bolts out the door into the old

used jalopy, where a nodding gunman
   bides his time in the backseat
relishing the lamb's imminent slaughter
   secure in the thought that even if caught

-- laughable, that -- he will post bail
      and be back out on the friendly streets...

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Greenish meadows, stony benches
Doves and crows toilet in bunches
Huge turnout..

Without fear of baited string bides
Flying fishes in lone seasides
From hideout..

Tree top squirrels wandered bottom
Like torpor kings in their kingdom
Free rollout..

Weeds and shoots sprouting from the soil
Dormant seeds sensing human spoil
They freakout..

Birds and beasts call on us to boo
World became a big human zoo
In stakeout.....

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The wide brown land is dry
This drought makes grown people cry
When it hasn’t rained on the soil
It doesn’t matter how hard you toil

The Great Southern Land bides it time
As the azure blue sky is forever fine
A tough people those on the land
Especially when things don’t go to plan

So we are left to pray for rain
For it will come again
Until then we stand with them
Awaiting this harsh test to end.
 
© Paul Warren Poetry...

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The love of the curve
the slip, the slide, the drift,
the ride.

The road’s May West hip,
the wayward Marilynesque
crest of the mountain sides.

The curve of the moon, 
the bun of the sun,
a toasted morning bride.

Arise, unfurl
like Shirley Temple’s curls
or the smoke from homes 
where man bides.

The love of the curve
as in orbit we spin
or the proton nuclear ride.

Relax, slide, slip and unfurl
just come along for the ride!...

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I breathe grey air in spaces in between,
And whisky stings my tongue and bides the time,
In steps I aimlessly record the scene,
And cherish my misanthropy sublime.

Wandering the streets and alleyways,
Of this downtown, wherever I may be,
No need for love suffocating my days,
Alone but free to lie with honesty.

I let my flanerie in verses sing,
Excited to report that everywhere,
The happy tattered P.I.G. is living,
“The great imperative” of Baudelaire!...

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In translucent silence
sapphire-capped minarets
stand like ardent rose buds
under glint of a firefly moon.

Gone are birds of day
like ruby breasted dawn
spilling ashes of roses
on a saffron horizon,
rhododendrons and azaleas floating
up high to burnish
the mosque's ghosted towers.

Through night's brisk lapis
the hushed teal dome bides
wafting apple breezes
as walls and turrets lumber,
shielding the tiled plaza
until morning steeps the landscape
in the aura of peacocks....

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