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Best Poems Written by Gautami Phookan

Below are the all-time best Gautami Phookan poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Gautami Phookan Poem

My Old Blue Jeans

(Re Old Poems)



 
A gaggle of girls lounging in the sun,
In the green grass many pairs of legs, stretched out
clad in their blue jeans.
My old pair, many memories...
In them I dug into the garden soil,
planting my spring flowers; my jeans grubby.
A girl gamboling in the rain,
water soaking into her and every pore of fibre
of her blue, old jeans.
Many moons ago, my jeans
touching his knees;
they remember the feel of his bare hands, 
as he smoothly traced the lines of those blue jeans.
The hems got frayed, threads hung loose...
They'd seen better days, blotches of old paint,
colors that stayed.
Spent many autumns, growing old with me
My rough old jeans.
I looked far, into the dipping sky,
The soaring waves, breaking into foam,
Turn to the grey hills, as I spread my wings,
braving my last journey,
for the bird to be finally home.




..
Written for nette's contest 'Blue Jeans'

Details | Gautami Phookan Poem

Luncheon of the Boating Party

(Re old poems)



The luncheon of French bourgeoisie under frilly striped awning.
Young fair maiden, rosy cheeks- beguiling her eyes; leans on the railing.
Amidst fruits and undrunk wine in amorous air strokes dog, a wife.
Men look askance in yellow straw hats, faces muse in blazing whites.
Quivering tints alive on a terrace, evolve in sunbathed human life.


``

Based on Auguste Renoir's painting - ''Luncheon of the Boating Party''

Details | Gautami Phookan Poem

The Sleepy Woods



The brook glideth shadowy and green,
White shimmering gown of soft petals;
Upon the cold bosom lay,
The lilies of the wooded valley.

No path doth go, no feet doth tread,
No breaketh the mossy silk of floor.
No wind shall howl its dreary moan,
But gentle it lingers over the haze.
And bloweth softly through the leaves,
Hung low in the sleepy woods.



©16/2/2012, Gautami Phookan, All rights reserved


em>.

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The Maiden's Song - a Poem By Giorgio Av


(Metrical form of writing worthily represented here in this poem composed by Giorgio Venetopoulos, had remained unpublished.)


The maiden's form diffuses neath the rain
and beautiful she steps around the sage
The mists embrace her dream on this domain
and vernal age.

The autumn raindrops fall, forever thin
They sing the maiden's song that lingers high
She fled to college winters that akin
have gone awry.

She fled above the plains where women sing
The heartfelt painful songs of love that stings
The iron bells of Sunday callings ring
for queens and kings.

Above the castle's walls the coldness casts
and dancing snowflakes fly to years before
where trees saluted his departing masts,
for e'er ashore.

Forsooth her shape outlined above the field
Where flowers blossomed in the air and smiled
The quiet dusk her heart sedately healed
descending mild.

Across their Summer lay the swaths of scythe
the mowing ended and a wedding song
two wraiths recite, thus on the wheatfield lithe
for e'er belong.

© Giorgio A.V. & Gautami Phookan 10-18-2014, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic pentameter - Iambic dimeter)

Details | Gautami Phookan Poem

Apollo and Daphne


Silver floats the moon and boughs slender sway,
fleeing on her trembling breath
her light feet braves.
Rising of the lea in the dappled grey,
As she wore her verdant robes,
on her vestal form in surging waves.
He shielded her beauty in his embrace..
Her golden showers 'tween their stillness clasp,
as she lay glistening in his sighing grasp.

Stars shine in sheaves amid the elven shades,
that linger upon her fair brow,
hemmed with crystal strings and golden flakes.
His bride to be ne'er, 
nymph of forest glades;
heard afar, beyond the hills,
her lone whisperings,
his yearning heart is left on her braided wings.
His love sweet fragrance with each breath endowed,
to wreathe the laurel with his words avowed.

Inside her heart she felt, his eyes' commands,
beneath the curling hair in misty wake,
that floated rough, untied about those lands,
his breezy handsomeness enhanced, and ache.
And she accepted him, at dawning break,
upon her nape then felt, the greening sea,
his vows proclaimed and triumphant heart's spree.

3rd Stanza in Rime Royal 

©3/01/2014.Giorgio Veneto,Gautami Phookan.All rights reserved

Details | Gautami Phookan Poem

Inside the Crystal Night



A lighthouse blinked deep in the shadows' gray   
a fog-horn bordered at the distanced lines,
few stars were scattering above the bay
and scintillating mirrored in my eyes;
- my eyes were focusing upon the brines,
two forms outlined inside the nightly coals
and danced our waltz above the waves and shoals.

Betrothal blossoming of western winds
that blow the cumulus across the quay,
melds with the rising mist, the moon rescinds,
and fades in deepnesses of the dark sea;
beyond the shores the tidings brought to me,
the moonlight drenched in silver waves of flame,
and thenceforth heard his heart, and felt his claim.

I breathed his lonesome air, my soul's accord,
o mother of caressing waves' soft voice,
embraced I was, the silvering award
became my terminal, demanding choice;
inside the crystal night I felt rejoice ,
and in my tiny hands run his reply,
my destiny, the sea, and silent cry.

..

5/6/2014.© Giorgio Veneto, Gautami Phookan. All rights reserved

.

Details | Gautami Phookan Poem

Revelling In the Rain

 
Revelling  in  the  rain  
That  goes  tapping  on  my  back.
I  twirl,  'am  in  no  haste;
With  a  weedy  leafy  dirndle 
Wrapped  around  my  waist.
I  swing  and  I  sway, 
Drifting  about  in  gay;
Pirouetting  with  the  posies, 
Floating  in  the  pristine  air.
I  dance  with  no  refrain, 
Foot  taps  whispering  with  the  rain.
The  entire  world  stood, 
As  in  a  clearing  in  the  wood; 
With  festoons  of  flowers  and  foliage, 
Them  all  ornating  my  stage.
Till  I  dance  into  the  dawn, 
And  a  grey  and  cloudy  morn; 
Rain  capering  with  me, 
Accompanying  me  for  a  song.


``  

For Charlotte Puddifoot's Contest : "First Poem On Soup"

Details | Gautami Phookan Poem

Through the Winter Cold He Rode

(Re old poems)



By  the  moonlight,  night's  pearly  softness  glowed,
In  their  slumber  deep,  fog  skirted  knolls  shoaled;
Through  the  winter  cold,  clipp'ty  clop  he  rode.

Down  the  twisted  alleys  and  to  highroad,
Flew  out  in  wind  his  fluttering  hair  gold;
By  the  moonlight,  night's  pearly  softness  glowed.

In  the  silence  bare  as  the  mist  bellowed
O'er  the  turrets  enshrouded  in  their  fold;
Through  the  winter  cold,  clipp'ty  clop  he  rode.

His  shadow  tossed  on  the  water  that  flowed,
As  galloped  o'er  the  bridge, ' twixt  moorlands  old;
By  the  moonlight,  night's  pearly  softness  glowed.

Meet  his  bonnie  lassie  her  chin  furrowed
'neath  her  cherry  lips  in  his  hands  to  hold;
Through  the  winter  cold,  clipp'ty  clop  he  rode.

Her  dark  eyes  under  green  eaves  that  mellowed,
Where  blushes  of  their  love  in  whispers  told
By  the  moonlight,  night's  pearly  softness  glowed;
Through  the  winter  cold,  clipp'ty  clop  he  rode.

..

© gautami Phookan (24/5/2011) , All rights reserved?

1st Place 'August 2011, Poetry Soup Contest'



..

Details | Gautami Phookan Poem

A Broken Dream


Through the gates of a mysterious garden,
Eyes glinting in the moon,
A sudden wind caught my hair,
Dark chambers, a choking sound in the shadows,
Unlatching the threads of a defiled soul.

Feet cold on the grass,
And I stood listening.
The darkling seas beyond moan,
Unearthing the sepultures,
Secretly buried in their womb.

Torn petals upon my palms lay,
Engravings shrunken and old,
Of some forgotten verse.
The boughs were dancing there,
The night sky, their flowers mirrored shimmering,
Echoing their song of some broken dream.
 
((... I walked away from the ancient ruins,, a glimpse at those hidden hollows,, slipping into the silence.))

Details | Gautami Phookan Poem

Just So Fishing Tale

(Re old poems)
 

One   has   to  have   plenty   of  imagination , 
                                                       
For     this     skillful   art .                                                                       
 
Before    you   hear    the  reel  sing ,                                                                 
                                                                         
To   stay   at  it  for   hours . 
 
Once     I     caught     a     fish ,                                                                     
                                                                        
Frailest    of  the    frail .
 
Letting    out   a    sigh ,  had    it    swim  away                                                       
 
For    it    to    be  meatier ,    some    other    day .                                                    
 
What    I  gain'd ,  me   you  might    ask .

A  day   spent    in    sheer    idleness
  
And    solitude  vast . 
 
                                                                              
 
~