Poetic society for all active poetry lovers

Category: Monthly Poetry (Page 4 of 9)

Snow

Snow

 

The snowfall of purity

Tempts the sinners

Nothing common with maturity

Nothing to do with winners

 

The snowflakes as a labyrinth

Bemuse those

Who put the idol on the plinth

Those whose hope knows

 

The sound of snow

Invites sleepers

Who for white do not see colors

To open the box with glow

Flakes Of Joy

Awaken by a muted, deafening silence, 
Although, sounds are present dull, numbing. 
Deep inside my ear.
Familiar;  announces you are here.

Drapes asunder, there you lay,
White as the given day.
Falling softly to the ground,
Appearing as a soft eiderdown.

Lightly covering, all around,
Gently gliding, can be found.
Lace like flakes, of a formation,
Each one differs, no combination.

Footsteps with caution, gingerly taken,
Each a crisp, crunching sensation.
Leaving behind, indentations,
Clear prints, map a destination.

Breda Ware

Festive Season

image

Step inside a church, and wonder at what you see,
Decked out with gold, silver ribbons, pretty as can be.
A brightly lit up Christmas Tree,
But alas not me, sadly I cannot see.
Smells, I can there all around,
In the air and upon the ground.
Rituals preformed out over the years,
To help alleviate all our fears.
Frankincense, Myrrh are heavenly scents,
Evoking memories of childhood, of Yule times spent.

The local pub frequented well,
Fragrant hops producing fine local ales.
Aromas of decanted deep red ports,
Musky, aged consumed, sought.
Blazing fires burning seasoned wood,
Eyes a water-never good!!
Egg Nog and a warmed spiced Toddy,
Walking home the weathers foggy.

Mistletoe hung above the door,
Green stems, sour berries white and pure.
Turkey trussed with chestnut stuffing,
Rich Mince Pies ready for the offing.
The distinctive smell of boiling ham,
Reminding me that home: I am.
Sprouts a bubbling, oh! pungent veg,
Enough to send some over the edge.
Cinnamon in the Christmas Pud
Smells delicious, truly good.
Church bells ringing, welcomed sound,
A Merry Christmas to all around.

Breda Ware

Never

Suppose I change my habits,  hypothetically.
Who would benefit from it, you or me?
To change a habit be it one, two or three,
Would make a different person, out of me.

Religiously write letters to whom I seldom see,
On rare occasions, receive others back to me.
Text and emails, enthusiasm I never lack,
Response alas, limited do I get back.

Making telephone calls is easier now,
Able to reach you at home or even in town.
Sadly I’m the one running around,
You’re always busy, never to be found.

In life’s ups and downs I’m always there,
Ready and willing to support and care.
To lend a hand with daily chores,
Enthusiastic, happily to take on more.

Relentless am I to the extreme,
To be cheerful and always keen.
Optimistic, eager to please,
Even to those whom have been mean.

At times too generous to please,
Is that a flaw? A defect in me?
Those in place should be left be,
Cause that’s my make up, that’s little old me.

Breda Ware

 

The Day I Broke My Habit

Dear Poets,

I’d like to share what I wrote during my very first Vacation School Lipnice (http://www.psl.cz/) course (https://www.facebook.com/groups/323223184409162/) more than 9 years ago, during an activity called Dead Poets Society (the 1st volume of http://www.psl.cz/o-nas-publikace) inspired by a movie of the same name: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0097165/. The course changed my personal and professional life extremely much.

🙂

E.T.

FIRE_2010[1]

September/October Topic

Dear Poets!

we hope you spent an amazing summer and now you have a lot of new inspiration for writing poetry! After a break (we all needed) we would like to introduce a new September/October topic:  “The day I broke my habit”.  You can write about the changes you made or you can even try to break any of your habits for a day and share your experience with us.

We are looking forward to reading your poetry!

Marie, Jarek and Adam

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2024 Poetry in eMotion

Theme by Anders NorénUp ↑