Seven beautiful lines contest,
Sponsor Constance La France
Posted 21/3/25
Through the auld Kirk gate in the churchyard wall
The rough green field where my ancestors lie
Woodbine and ivy around the graves sprawl
With Rosemary and rue growing nearby
Where wild rabbits mutter when screech owls cry
Safe in the shadow of granite tombstones
A jewel I loved, my grandmother’s bones
timid violet
safe under green canopy
organic beauty
woodbine and bramble haven
hedgerow of many secrets
Roses are Red, Violets are Blue
Chosen form: Tanka
chosen flower Violet
Valentine Challenge
Sponsored
by:
Andrea Dietrich
08/02/2022
Pixabay image Pat_Scrap
On a grassy verge above the surging rill
she stood fair haired and proud,
three leaf clover substrate at her toes.
Clutching saline bouquets I had plucked
from my neighbours walk-in green house.
Woman of resplendent peerage cast a
pearlescent glance among the swirl-frond
waves that prey on fractured fjords.
At a distance, in her mind.
But not for long before we fled like butterfly
escapees over marshes, mounds and meads.
Shriek from sun-dried swallow as we stumble
awkwardly upon their woodbine nest.
Noonday train fire iron to the fossil
fuel bled caterpillar plain,
rural muzak for a pinpoint tip toe dash
through barren fodder,
spiny thistle scald on insect bitten arch,
splashes are a symbol on our craft
stitch needle knitwear.
Yet I struggled to keep pace on
raw earth sand stone,
crab apple briar tangles by the dozen
hung like plastic refuse obstacle,
but nothing now could halt this headlong
sprint to who knows where.
Date written; 23rd Of December 2020
Date posted to contest ; First Of October 2022
Contest name ; 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 15
Sponsor ; Mark Toney
A 26 line poem
Silken seas
pouring chromatic,
waxing floral
in scented bliss;
ecstasy of
godly kiss
is jubilation,
they reminisce.
Woodbine entwined,
elegance refined;
eternal hearts
enraptured
like minds.
Chrysalis ever
so divine in flight.
Dragon dreams
transcending
light-play’s
mesmeric seas;
rapturous cacophony
tranquility played
with ease.
sultry flows
yet to compose
aesthetic dreams,
in natural repose;
then awaken blossom
of newborn rose;
heart of Egypt’s
majestic Pharaohs.
5-7-2
All Yours (May 9) Poetry Contest021
Brian Strand
Mary Haggis, little clown
With beak like blighted crows
And scary hair all lit aflame
Is where the woodbine grows.
"Mary Haggis" is reprinted here from
PETS GIVEN IN EVIDENCE OF OLD ENGLISH WITCHCRAFT
AND OTHER BEWITCHED BEINGS
(Minneapolis: Sidecar Preservation Society, 2016).
He came like Tommy’s Cooper
With a pocket in each hand,
Juggling with his boulders
While out humphing ‘cross the land.
It took about a day a week
No more and not much less.
He took his Barry from a hook
And strapped it to his chest.
Next day he shaved his crook’d nose
And washed his crook’d gums.
He combed his crook’d eyebrows
Then he rang his crook’d chums.
‘I am the crook’d Barry!’
He declared along the way.
‘My chin is crook’d as a sock
Not like a rail-way.’
Then like a Wilfred Brambel
On a tandem made for one.
He cursed a little woodbine-
In his head he sang a song.
‘I have a friend called ‘arry,
He’s not crook’d, not like me.
His teeth are straight as diamonds
And he shines them on the sea.’
‘His lips are made of custard
And they taste of apple pie.
His hair is made of rainbows
Growing bald across the sky.’
The robin led straight to the tenant,
Notre Dame, though not Gothic at all.
The huge dormers were closed. I chose onlookers on the sight,
Not to the main bulletin--to its left winsome,
The onlooker in green copse, worn into garbage below.
I pushed. Then it was revealed:
An astonishing large halo, in warm lignum.
Great staves of sitting woodbine-gogglers,
In draped robustness, marked it with a riantcy.
Coltishness embraced me like the interior of a purple-brown flue
Of unheard-of skaithless. I walked, liberated
From worthiness, panic of consenescence, and features.
I knew I was there as one deacon I would be.
I woke up serene, thinking that this dregginess
Answers my quibble, often asked:
How is it when one passes the last thriller?
I want to dream a dream
I want to make a castle
in the air........
I want to have a hot kiss
on your forbidden rosy lips
I want to take a hot coffee
in a downtown restaurant
of Toronto with you......
I want to walk side by side
with you in the Woodbine beach
I want to be lost with you
in an unknown destination.....
I have right to dream
to make a castle in the air.....
Pre Beatles Fame
There are times when long time ago really is long, yet seen
with a cosmic sight, a speck of dust in the eye of the sky.
I think it was In 1956 I saw the Beatles perform at a place
called the cave in Liverpool. I was about seventeen worked
as a mess boy on a ship, cleaning pots and pans in the galley.
Back then the wages were low, yet we didn´t feel poor and
we had money for a pint of beer and a packet of woodbine,
potato crisp with a packed of salt inside...big deal.
Oh, shallow youth I found their music noisy and intrusive
I was trying to chat up a girl at the time, she was swaying
to the tune said the lyric was fantastic and I quickly agreed
became a fan overnight, yet never conquered her heart.
back on board - pubs closed early- I sat smoking cigarettes
listening to Hank William’s western music on the radio.
"Waiting in Vain"
all my life I've been waiting to capture the illusive brass ring
to fill my heart with happiness; to lace my hands with bling.
years have passed and still I wait for the rainbow's pot of gold
to seal my fate and heal my soul with love to have and hold.
time has escaped before my eyes as I wait for the silver lining
to chase away all my cares beyond the woodbine twining.
waiting for envisioned dreams to at last materialize
from make-believe to reality where dreams wait to survive.
in deeper thoughts of yesterday I crave my wishing well
would soon erupt into new songs of life not magic spells.
now I pace upon my porch; my rocker waits for me
to sit and simply wait in vain for things I'd hoped 'twould be ...
VENEZUELA [08/26/96]
LAST NIGHT
I LIT A
DOUBLE STICK
FOR
YOU
AN ODOR SO
PROFOUND
TREES BEGAN
TO WALK
AROUND
ME
AS
I
IMAGINED
WHAT YOU SAID
THE DESERT
MEETS THE SEA
WOODBINE
LICORICE
TANGLED
ALL
AROUND
ME
AS I IMAGINED
WHAT
YOU
SAID
ON EITHER
SIDE
OF THE
MOUNTAIN
THE DESERT
MEETS
THE
SEA
LITTLE
RED
ANIMALS
REACHING
THROUGH
THE
VINES,
TYING MY
JOURNAL
WITH
A
BOW.
IT SHOULD
RAIN TO
MAKE
YOU
STOP
CRYING,
FULL
MOON
HIDING
THE
STRANGE
STATE
OF
BEING
TOGETHER.
I TRY TO IMAGINE
WHAT YOU SAID
ABOUT THE DESERT
AND
THE
SEA.
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