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Narrative Beauty Poems | Narrative Poems About Beauty

These Narrative Beauty poems are examples of Narrative poems about Beauty. These are the best examples of Narrative Beauty poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Narrative | |

The Clouds

"THERE HE WAS HOLDING HIS HAND OUT"

My voice=
God, can I hold your hand and go with you?

"Gods voice"
My sweet child, it is I who will walk with you now! You walked down my path with and without faith. You took my protection to ease your pain. My shielded wings comfort you during your moments of suffering while your life staggered across the earth... Your love and devotion are what made you strong. Every time your dreams were broken. You managed to build more dreams in their place. You called my name during your happiest and saddest moments. You always ran up to me when you fell behind. Your secrets became our private talks. The key to your heart was always unlocked. I was there during your trials and troubles of tribulations. We could not speak, but it was my light that would not allow you to get weak.

My voice=
Is this that dream of beauty? The one in the book my preacher spoke of. 
Yes! I remember it now it is called paradise. I felt this company once before, Lord.
Many times, I have forsaken this light, and still it never left my door.
I felt it the day I was born, and the day I became baptized in your holy name.
I felt this light before, can you explain it some more? 
Lord pleases clarify that day I fell down to my knees and accepted Jesus as my savior? 
Every day since, I felt as if you stood away and walked on by, allowing me to face my own failures’.  Was my life a waste in this impossible world?"

"Gods voice" 
My child, this is the everlasting light you will feel every time your body is re-born onto a new road.  This light never left you. 
My sweet child did you not listen, Matthew *19:26* MY SON looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with ME all things are possible. My child you were not searching for the right answers.

My voice= 
My Lord everyone told me if I prayed you would come. Did I not pray right?

"Gods voice"
My child sometimes your heart asked for more than life itself, which left questions for someone else.  
At times how could I answer when you shunned heaven away from your eyes?
The obvious question is whether this is the final immersing of your souls disguises.

My voice= 
Lord, I have other questions to ask. 
What should I expect out of my personal sins? My testimonial sits in the palm of your hand
My mind and my heart's inner core have been wicked since my adolescence days. 
How is it that I am in your promise land?

"Gods voice"
Getting right with me has brought you here!

My voice= 
One more question My Heavenly Father
Can I see them? My Daughter, Mothers, and Sisters~

by;PD


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A Most Irish Fairy Tale - Merry Christmas to All

It is not just Santa Claus who we meet in cold December— 
There is “Carolina,” and she’s the beauty of a winter picture perfect 
With luscious long coal black curly hair far down on her back 
As a true fairy princess, Carolina is quite beautiful with beaming

Blue eyes and that certain incandescent glow for all to see and 
Dressed in a sparkling white robe made of polar bear skins 
With a glossy coat sprinkled with pearls and diamonds . . . .

Out of the woods she comes so quiet in the night’s fresh snow 
With a glimpse of two deer and a fox on hunt walking carefully 
Carolina hopes the deer will walk around with angelic guard 
The secret is that beautiful Carolina talks the animals’ languages 
The birds they play in all its splendor fine without sorrows 
They fly while Carolina keeps watch carefully on the horizon 

Falling snow now dazzling Christmas in a ball circle most brilliant 
While there is a frozen frosted sprinkling silver in the mist shining sun
Oh so!! Wonderful to behold as the Spirit of Christmas comes alive . . . .

The Reindeer come alive and begin dancing joyfully together and 
Create such a melodic sound almost like bells ringing aloud
And the all the Reindeer are here in their resplendent glory:
Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen,
And Rudolph, with his red nose so beautiful and oh so bright—
And the sounds the Reindeer make stay in the minds of the little
Children just like sweetly wishing little voices wonderful in dreams
With those singing, tunes a dancing light appears so wondrous 
While planes from all over the world begin landing with cargo
And one each day with loads of letters from good little children

And Santa Claus begins calling the elfin troops into action while
The Leprechauns do all the heavy work as they are much tougher
But the old fighting Irish in them showing their softer side all the 
While with a drop of the old fiery dew to keep them warm smiling 
Like the very wee little Devil in them - mischievous and all . . . . 

They do all the heavy work for the elves as they have more of a spring
In their step while almost bouncing on the tip of the their toes like 
Little jumping springs so full of boundless wonder and energy and  
Then day after day the letters keep arriving and landing at the North Pole 
And they begin working like mad and very busily in the North Pole factory

While Santa checks the letters of all boys and girls through a secret window 
And when he shakes it he sees through the mist in a glass bubble of the
Christmas treats while hurriedly calling together all of his Reindeer . . . .
The sound of hooves on the snow saddles up the sleigh he is very slim 
To start off while all his helpers are loading up and he flicks the reins 

And the bells start ringing and - in a flash of magic dust in spirit sings of 
The ground waving he bade Mrs. Claus a very fond and loving farewell
And off he goes in a flash of light Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! echoing in the distance 

Each chimney sliding down he eats the food throwing some to the Reindeer 
Treats left after the night's over he feels so fat eating so much he heads back 
Home to the North Pole while smiling so content at the children’s happiness 
And ringing in his ears filled with golden smiles and wishing everyone a very 
Merry Christmas he falls asleep after Mrs. Claus makes him a hot chocolate
Really tired but easing his weary bones year after year he loves his job very
Much so and all of the sheer delight that his efforts and those of Mrs. Clau
And his elfin helpers and the joy and fun of the Reindeer bring to all children
On this Earth!! 
                     Merry Christmas to All!!



Anne-Lise Andresen, Liam McDaid and Gary Bateman – A Collaborated Poem, 

Copyright © All Rights Reserved (December 9, 2014) (Free Verse)


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I Am Whammy


It was a lovely summer the garden was filled with butterflies. Whammy the caterpillar was full of joy. He climbed the tallest stalk in the flower bed. Maybe he could see the beautiful butterflies. They might even play with him. “Hello” he said as he greeted a very colorful flutter by. Poor Whammy was in for a huge disappointment. She laughed at him, called to all her butterfly friends. She ridiculed Whammy she actually called him an ugly crawly thing. If it was anyone else but Whammy this story may have had a disastrous ending. Whammy just slid down found his other caterpillar friends. They all wanted to know about the butterflies. Whammy told his friends that the flutter bys were even more beautiful from close. He said he was unfortunate he met one who was mean and shallow inside. That night Whammy prayed. First he prayed that the flyer he met would find the kindness that was surely within her. Then he prayed for other Caterpillars who might have the same experience. He knew that at first he felt bad really bad. He felt bad for not being as beautiful as the flyer. Then Whammy remembered, beauty is to be appreciated not envied. "Besides" Whammy thought "I'm quite dapper myself" as he straightened his imaginary tie and laughed. He wished that no creature large or small that no life form would ever feel like less. “If I was a butterfly I would be kind to everyone, imagine that me a flutter by” he said out loud. As our story ends Whammy falls asleep. Laughing and content Just to be happy. Imagine that - a scary caterpillar becoming a beautiful butterfly? Moral Of the story: “Attitude is Everything”. 01~11~2014 Maurice Yvonne Sponsor: Carol Eastman Contest Name: Fable to the Rescue


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Justice in the Quest For Love

I saw how martyrs longed for love, and so began the play of my flitting heart
A strange girl had I become, with airs of fickle dream,
My heart an embodiment of wonder to all that dared to behold it
Closing my eyes, I would find myself knowing something new would shine my way
Had I known what was coming, the dawn would seem far less appealing...

As all journeys begin, a darkness began to veer its head
The plot of reality melted in dissonant chords... 
Dark blue fogs of doubt caked my mind and heart 
Though the longing for love never left... 
And had it left, no dawn would await me 

I saw there were rules setting a foundation for my intensely embarked mark 
I knew if I were to feel any twinge of fire, 
I must first be rid of the fog...or at the very least find my way through it 
How it stung as it hit my virgin skin, not like gentle clouds talking me through it, 
Caressing, surrounding and seducing. . . 
No, like a poison, the bleak thickness of the doubt choking me 
Reducing me to child's tears...I toiled through its torments, 
I rested upon rough rocks of rhetorics 
Admiring their vitality and honesty... 
At one point in time I had convinced myself that I was one of them 
A rock- cold, rough... hardened and overlooked...destined to crumble 
Though more demands surfaced on this quest for love's Justice 

Weakened by the blue fogs blackening,
 I cried out in the pit of my heart, surrendering before me 
Words...kept so long inside... 
I freed them from the strongholds of my darkest nights 
And soon there was a deep, hypnotizing reply... 

Justice, tall and proud, said from above the sinking pit, 
"True, I have seen you before, 
A token of adoration you have become, 
Crying night after night in melodious black, 
With little to take, and everything to give... 
My demands are simple, as your longing is profound, 
You, yes, you! Take my hand so I may hold you tightly..." 

My mouth agape, I stretched out my hand to meet the vines of his fingers 
Clutching in sparks, he breathed into me life... and promise of love 

"Surrender your heart to the hope of love 
When you find you are not alone, as none of you are, 
When you praise with your singsong words that passion has altered, 
Giving all to a soul you have yet to see, 
You shall feel my hand lift you as I do now... 
Soon once more, you shall learn- the dawn will always be dawn 
And the night will always be your velvet pathway to Beyond." 

This, Justice proclaimed in the voice of a thousand cries of birth 
The overtones spilling out in rainbows of rapture 

It was soon after his visit, I knew I must perform... 
Surrender, faith, and action Three keys to the same door... 
And they, golden and alight, were in my hands to use 

The time came when my heart grew roses, thorns and all 
And hearts smashed their way through, though I cherished the burn... 
Fogs still lingered in the alleyway of fear 
And now I knew not to inch my way near 

For the punishment he had whispered like darts in my ear, 
"If you, now seeing the truth, dismember your heart, 
I will crush your petals into black abyss, 
I will reduce you to dust, leaving the thorns, 
I am animal in the face of failure, 
My tolerance for hate is shorter than an ant beholding a mountain 
And if you so much as reject my call, 
Hate is exactly what I will allow, 
And it will destroy you, oh singing heart..." 

This I ask of Justice, on the day of my calling, and yet still today... - 
"Tell me, oh spirit, 
Phantom of Epiphany, 
When the love I so long for locks tightly upon me, 
Becoming me, 
Shall it be as I dreamed, 
Or shall I be wholly disappointed, 
Left in the agony of reality, 
Where roses grow, thorns and all... 
Only to wither...and die... 
?" 

He was so gentle...that he merely smiled and left me... 

It was right away, soon after his departure, 
That I felt he never would fully leave... 
He allowed me to weave my own dreams, 
Finding out for myself if reality was truly as magical as they write 
And as for an answer, as dull as this may sound... it is... 

I, like many tearful martyrs before me, 
Continue to long for a love that will fulfill me 
Often reality teases me, and I know not if she is demon or angel 
Though one day, I will see reality is on my side, ugly or not 
The play of my flitting heart still beating its rhythmic drums 
The rainbows of overtones lulling me into ecstasy, 
As I see words of wisdom thriving in the hands that save 

This, though little, I know- 
Love is justice of reward beyond our wildest dreams 
He sings to us every night, never making promises... 
He just smiles and allows us to live it 
He allows us to discover, and in turn give... 
To enlighten others still trapped in the ruts of fog 
Once we feel it, there is no turning back 
Please do not let him crush those roses you have made... 
Even their foundations were meant to reach the skies 
Touching the brightest dawn...and Beyond..

 -For Justin Bordner's "Love Justice" Contest 
Love you loads, and thank you immensely for inspiring me! 


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Always a Dream

A little fairy princess one day sits resting on a most beautiful sunflower,
And magically she begins stretching her wings for anticipatory flight
While capturing a vision assortment of most bright flying colors, 
Of one gentle and soothing rainbow promise—a shining and a light to delight;
As the ground begins to tremble and crumble underneath her tiny feet,
She takes flight on her splendid little wings—quite magnificent to behold
Through the colors of mist and the veil of magic she sees a bright sparkling shine, 
And then all becomes clear—she sees gold, and even more gold on the horizon
Radiantly gleaming in front of her very eyes and charming her senses entire.

Then a most curious little green man with curved ears pointing heavenwards 
And possessing remarkably strange and yet soft mesmerizing green eyes, 
Presents himself both kindly and boldly to the little fairy princess in person; 
He jumps right in the pot alongside her dancing a jig to his heart's content,
And the princess shines all colors of love and warmth over him under the mist 
Of a most dazzling and enchanting dream to behold, know, and cherish.

With this the little green man reveals his true nature to his new found princess,
And with a most proud alacrity bearing a quaint princely nature, he declares:
 
“Me Darlin’ little princess so near and so dear to Me own little heart,”
“You must know I’m your Leprechaun always obedient from this very start,”
“At this moment most precious Me knows you’ve captured Me little heart,”
“And with this you’ve captured too Me overflown’ Pot of Gold now in part,”
“With Me undying love and devotion to you always carried in Me little heart.”

With this the Leprechaun and his little fairy princess danced a mystical old
Irish jig together while singin’ and laughin’ both so gently and contentedly;
All the while his soft green eyes and her sensual eyes azure locked in a 
Most romantic gaze and affection when they began kissing one another, 
And brushing inside and both sharing heartfelt fluttering emotions and a
Swelling with a deep beauty and a most passionate love in Heaven born.

With the genuine passion-felt affection and the romantic kisses exchanged,
The Leprechaun and his little fairy princess began to transform themselves
Right before each other’s very eyes, and Behold!!—in a quick moment, the
Leprechaun became a most handsome and sweet loving young prince, and 
His little fairy princess, in a flash of blinding light, lost her wings and changed 
Into a most radiant and quite beautiful young princess with long-flowing 
Beautiful black hair, and a very lovely smile as resplendent and sweet as any
Angel in Heaven above.

Now the handsome young prince and his beautiful young princess were an 
Elegant and most wonderful couple to behold and cherish—kind, smiling, and 
Deeply in love.
 
The young prince with his Irish blessings began sparklin’ and sprinklin’ star dust 
All over his young princess and they both lived happily ever after with pronounced
Passion and love, emotion and devotion, kindness and charity, vision and purpose, 
Forever to their end on Earth and later by the Lord God himself in Heaven. 

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights 
Reserved (October 29, 2014) (Narrative poem poetic form)


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Faraway Dream

Thorns tearing as a soul cries out 
For a magic star to appear in the Heavens
Lost in the silver of the moon face 
alone inside a chandelier 
star lighting crystals a rainbow of love
In each teardrop one star falls
Within thoughts dust a trail 
falling water sparkling over jewels glistening 
in each and every wish granted
Shimmering silver treasure 
falling in love you are so beautiful 
sweetly beyond this world and the next 
Twinkling behind dazzling sparkles
jewels of everlasting happiness
bliss will be the joy it brings 
in never ending beauty sings 
Each a warm fluttering inside wings
blushing ruby red lips kissing desire 
deeply turning keys passion hotly breathes
Warm with a fire burning bright
flames openly embracing you love
softly and tenderly sighs sweetly
Touching this dream a gentle warm glow
holding the heart open 
to one stunning beauty of a queen


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Would You Dance This Last Dance with Me

Darling—Would you dance this last dance with me?
I thought of this question so intently as I gazed at
You afar tonight across the busy dance floor and
Your very smile and presence shined for all to see.
It would take courage for me to ask for that dance!

Looking at you first glance captivated my very emotions,
And I thought, “How could this be?” “I’ve not met you!”
Yet, I also saw your most magical and most warm smile,
And roared inside of myself each time I heard your
Funny, wonderful, and most exciting laughter so sweet!

And so, I decided to move closer and closer to you while
Passionately thinking and trying my best to conceal my
Shyness and fear of looking foolish when I spoke to you.
I knew that I had this one chance and didn’t want to blow it,
And so I downed some fine alcohol to free up all my words!

All this seemed like an eternity, but finally—there you were,
And my inner voice cheering me on cried, “It’s Now or Never!”
With that, our eyes met and locked at once, and I said, “Oh Gee!”
You then smiled so warmly and laughed and touched my hand,
And I knew then and there that you were the ONE in my life!

At first, not talking, but looking at each other I noticed at once
Your most beautiful blue eyes, radiant hair, and luscious red lips.
Your touch, your scent, your smile, and your warmness captured
My heart entire, and then I knew our meeting would entail much
More than just a dance—it could be a dance for the rest of our life!

And so, I thought: “Romeo, it’s time to talk, starting charming her!”
But she spoke first, both gently and laughing, putting me at ease,
And I was enchanted at once by her—and her voice had a melodic,
Smooth tone that bewitched me as her eyes mesmerized me entire.
We touched further, embraced, and kissed with so much delight!

As we stood there as ONE locked deeply in our embrace and emotions, 
Time for us stood still as the sensual stirred the spiritual, further
Enriching this splendid moment that we wanted to go on and on and on.
After which we talked, walked hand-in-hand, never leaving each other.
The evening grew later and the music was dying down now—it’s time!

With this cue, I gently cupped her hand in mine and kissed her once 
More so very warmly while gazing lovingly and deeply into her eyes,
And then my question finally surfaced and erupted with much delight—
Darling—Would you dance this last dance with me tonight? We did,
And it started a long romance-filled dance for the rest of our life! 

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, 
Germany (November 8, 2014) (Narrative poetic format)


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My Favorite Devonshire

Myself All that I am I could dye my hair to please you Yet I won't A little mascara might Make me attractive Although the value of my gift Cannot be measured in wrappings I will not sing For you But create a harmony and hope for consonance And I will dance With you To the melody of our song Accept All that I am I could paint you as my knight in armor But fantasies vanish with sunrise We could play together Yet games must end And the unity of the game Will dissolve Leaving you And me All that we are And acceptance of each Written by Carolyn Devonshire
Carolyn Devonshire-Who is she? A great author,a widower who loved her husband so much,and a daughter who loved her father just as much.She is one of my closests friends,can easily be called family...and so lucky I am to have met her.Carolyn was one of the first soupers who always left me a comment of encouragement when i first started writing here.Our friendship grew stronger through time and so our love for poetry. Why do i love this poem so much? This poem from Carolyn's first book 'Visions of Devonshire'definitely speaks to my soul. The value of who we are,isn't about how we appear to be,it isn't about making ourselves perfect,nicer,It isn't about changing our identity..Its about being who we really are. Carolyn's gift cannot be measured in wrappings'..Its her inner beauty which makes her shine.Her friendship ,love and loyalty to others is what makes her so special. Its not all about the outer beauty of oneself,but what is on our inside which really makes us who we are. The knight in shining armor,the Fantasy,the dream might vanish with sunrise, the game will end too,leaving all that was in yesterday behind,but finding who we are once again,and accepting each other for who we were and always will be. Thankyou Carolyn for this poem, Your gift lies within you.. It cannot be measured in wrappings..So true! and the biggest thankyou is sent your way today for just being you.. Dear Gwendolyn..thanks for the brilliant idea.... Big hugs... Charma


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The Meadow

I'm always there, in that place that doesn't mean a thing to anyone but me. A far away 
meadow where I don't have to hide all the happiness of a young girls heart. One that has 
been ripped apart, so many times. I stare at all the beautiful flowers and trees of my 
surroundings and let the wind gently rustle my hair. I close my eyes taking in all these 
wonderful things, as I lie on the cool grass. My body mixes in with the air, and I'm blowing 
past natures statues and creatures galore. I stop at the edge of a nearby pond, my body 
floating softly to the ground as an eagles feather. I look deep into the sparkling image that 
makes me who I am. I gracefully touch the water with my fingertips and let the water 
shimmer like the stars. A white unicorn grazing near the freshly harvested hay, called out to 
me. It approached me as I stood, and nuzzled my arm. I brushed its silk coat and burrowed 
my face against her cool cheek. This is the reason I come to this place. To interact with the 
things not known or believed in their world. Its just my own, my sound and the behind 
scenes of my eyes. It's calm and peaceful, which their world is far from. I'm the only one with 
the doorway to this meadow. I love going there, it's like a blanket that warms its comfort 
over me when I need it the most. And when I get there, my feelings are a boat sailing to 
sea, leaving me filled with perfect serenity. I'll always be there, till the end of all life, and I 
know this lovely meadow will never be replaced.


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I Want to Sing Too

I can’t sing
I mean I can’t sing
I’ll leave the singing to Walt.
But I assume, as he assumes, as you assume, as all assume,
I love like you, love like him, love like the Lord above,
What is there? Singing? Why can’t I sing too?

Every cell and feeling that exudes from me,
Leaves an impression that I’m proud for all to see.
Every smile and gesture makes me a man,
It doesn’t always fit into my plan,
But I think the trepidation is waning,
The insecurity finally is straining.
All this time I’ve wanted to sing,
But it’s always been my failing.

I can’t sing
I mean I can’t sing
No that’s not true.
Something is different.
I no longer assume, I assure.
I don’t wander, I wonder.
I can’t fear, I fight.
I don’t love, I love YOU.

I haven’t sung because of others.
But these others are sisters and brothers.
Sometimes my voice might crack,
The beauty I may lack.
But YOU have opened my mind,
All this time I’ve been behind.
YOU have opened my eyes.
I’ve seen the pretty skies.
YOU have opened my heart,
And I’m ready to start.
YOU have opened my lung,
And I’ll be heard, and sung.


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The sparkling blue gem

Scaling the skies and beauty of her wonder world A fairy saw a sparkling thing down in a valley Intrigued she flew up to it Mesmerized she was, when she saw it A big ,sparkling ,blue gem with lustrous shine Thrilled by its luster ,she touched it And woof!!! Her magic wand disappeared She lost her wings and all her powers In desperation ,she touched it again and again But to no avail Disheartened she walked up to the nearby brook With her head in her lap ,she started crying Suddenly she heard a soothing music The music of rumbling, ruffling brook Freshly scented spring air wiped her tears Dusky splendid skies brought her smile back A new world was unfolding before her Elated she was, when she walked on the dewy grass Her eyes shone, when she saw a small pink flower, growing under a rock Her heart skipped a beat when she touched the bark of the tree Intoxicated by this beauty, she wandered around And unknowingly reached back to the vicinity of the blue gem On seeing it again ,she felt that it’s beauty had increased Again mesmerized by its luster, she touched the gem This time with an enlightened heart and a beautiful mind And woof!!! Her magic wand reappeared Her wings and powers restored Since night was befalling on her She with an elated heart ,flew hastily up to her abode Resting on her couch ,she felt something stuck to her feet It was the fresh dewy grass Holding the grass blade in her hand She smiled ,as she knew She had learned a lesson that day Had seen a new world, a world beyond her magic and had learned to keep her feet grounded….
.


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digiti minimi

Digiti minimi

We only see the log in their occuli

And rain arrows at our enemies

God does not play dice!

Lame we lay inordinati

Like holidays on a Sunday

Unknown in my modus operandi

Since I am just another pinky.

Anatómico numero, you say?

Then let the lesser weigh

Take me like a royal hemerocallis

For, I am your digiti minimi.
																			By :Tutuola michael





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Wellington

I found myself shedding a tear at a train seat upon seeing the sights leaving the Wellington city train port to Woburn.
I don't mind being called a sentimental freak, if I could just have any describe more than I can the beauty that leaves 
one more than enamored, bewildered and perplexed. How is it possible for nature to marry humanity and vice versa? 
How does it happen when the city buildings lay backdrop to the turquoise waters of the pacific ocean and vice versa? 
How does its waves recognize no rules to follow on where it comes and goes or the wind for that matter? How does the 
birds play so freely as if happily almost touching the great body of water, back to air, then back again to the base 
surface of the waters? How does the water vessels cruise peacefully with some other ships finding their places like 
home amidst the many other small boats around? How does the sun give off its summer heat amidst the windy air? 
How did I end up being in that rugged train witnessing all the massive spectacle of beauty in a country a million miles 
away from my homeland? Tell me why I should help myself to a silent tear.


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Dane Anne

this enchantment
it cannot be measured
it cannot be weighed
it cannot be told in time
or days
yet here it is as i'll describe
tis in my riding
tis in my play
tis in my working 
each and everyday
my worship has dwindled
my real prayers are sinful
and my god is a genie
who's bottle is covered with sand
my love is the maid
Dane Anne
and thousands of suitors 
have ask for her hand
all dressed like princes
in gem's and furs
lined with red and purple silk
armed with jewel encrusted stilleto's
and gold belts
capes with gold and silver
tapestry all with original designs
of family crest
Noblemen and boys
riding every kind of fanciful horse
smooth, brushed and well feed
but their confidence 
is all but drained 
by shear number of similar suitors
but beauty and prize
will not let them leave
and such as i but in 
much lesser degree 
of nobility
a commoner, a peasant, a spoiler
one who would pluck the flower
before it was meant to be plucked
one who's eyes have been challenged
beyond lust
one who's faith has come to believe
that this fair maid Dane Anne
belongs to me alone
no man has suffered 
as much as i
to be over looked as a suitor
a sore in one's eye
yet no one can care more
or even try
for her hand i give all
and perhaps i'll die
for all my waken moments
find her haunting still
this magic over me
it must be her will
can such beauty cast
such an evil spell
that if thinking for
myself; i cannot tell
or is there a cupid
a godly spell
one that takes my willingness
under his own will
perhaps possessed  by a spirit
who through love
can only live
empowered by my weakness
demanding that all i give
but such this state
i am
and complain, i do not
for such a gift is love
that will never be forgot


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A Dream That Came True

A Dream That Came True.

In my mind's eye I had seen her undress a thousand times
 sending hot flashes that exploded with her moaning
 Months before ever summoning the courage to speak to her
 I practiced the words befitting her splendor!

 She had been noticing my adoring glances as she 
 adjusted her skimpy bikini in the bright sun
 Showing just what a man, any man would hope to see
 I moved closer anticipating her charming refusal
 to my shock she answered a quick yes and our date 
 that night was on!

 I asked her to wear something sexy and she replied
 how about I wear no panties?
 My stammering answer made her laugh that laugh
 the one that sent shivers up my spine in anticipation

 It is on! We met at theatre and hardly watched the movie
 for her hands were busier than mine!
 A nice change to feel the heat of a woman so anxious
 I almost wept with joy! What a thrill! She had kept her promise
 No panties!!!
 None under that sexy short skirt that had made the other men 
 openly lust for her charms! I saw and was amazed that this vision of
 sexual beauty was actually with me!
 What happened later that night you can imagine,
 the earth shook, the sky fell and I heard a ringing bell!

 We married two months later and it was pure sex and bliss
 Non stop sex night and day.. Ahh, the memories that last a
 lifetime! 
 Nothing that great can last forever. We burned like the Sun for
 a few years and then it happened..
 The crash!
 My motorcycle hit a tree ,I was rushed to the hospital and woke up 
 three days later to discover it had been only a very vivid daydream!
 My heart broke , I was sorry to have came back to the world! Then, 
 O' yes then in walks a vision so lovely my heart almost stopped

 A new nurse. So hot the paint on the walls started melting.
 Over she floats to my bedside. I sat wide eyed looking like a fool!
 Awestruck with anticipation! She took my hand, took my pulse .

 I fumbled for words, I fought for control. I begged for help to impress
 her!
 Finally, finally I felt power return and I asked her to just pinch me!
 Pinch me! Let me know I am not dreaming again..
 She laughed and pinched my left cheek. The lower one! I felt the earth
 begin to rise. She noticed and laughed,
 LAUGHED THAT LAUGH!!! That laugh!
 That laugh came from those sweet lips. I begged for help and she smiled,
 O' that smile!
 As she turned to leave I asked her to see me again and she said yes!
 I shall return in two hours to give you your bath.. Then winked at me!
 Longest two hours of my life! 
 Then I woke up still laying beside my crashed motorcycle!
 With a broken leg and shattered dream!!! 
 Fate can be so cruel.....
 So damn cruel...... Then the door opened and I hear her say with a 
 smile. Time for your bath darling !!! Its late and I'll block this door!
 Then she removed her clothes. Crap, dreaming again I thought...
 And that is how I met my first wife. Yes she was a dream!!
 Something that great never lasts, never lasts.... 

Robert Lindley

Dedicated to my first wife.... and some of it is even true!!! 
Found this last week while rummaging around in some old files I had... 


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Wild Flower

Wild Flower
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 In Death Of A Rose by Nate Spears
 
Rescue this sunflower
It's capable of being a ray of light
Nurture it, value it, and love it
Its petals are more delicate than they appear in sight
 
 A wild flower it is; but it displays beauty
The facts of its species remain unknown
Its fight to reach its true potential is admired
It’ birth to existence is undetermined
 It’s roots shows trauma
Its presentation brings hesitates to potential caregivers
No one's prepared to take a chance
This flower is destined to win
 
All earthly roots sprout from above
At some point in a life’s span; we could use a kiss or hug
 He who refuses to display any element of the wild
Is merely real
An artificial representation of life
Stuck in Styrofoam surrounded by fake moss and dust
No breath, no soul, non-existence
A human being choked from an outer dimension.
Rescue this wild flower with love.


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Moon

	
Moon 
---- 
 
 
Once night Gretta Foster sat in the backyard, 
building a rocket ship that ought to take her a-far, 
she had been working day and night - tirelessly, 
hammering, programming, all so dexterously. 
 
Then when the sun arose and sparkled in the sky, 
Gretta was still working, that too without a sigh, 
the ship was finally built, Gretta was on cloud nine, 
but going a bit farther up than that seemed rather fine. 
 
She sat inside the cockpit, tightened her seat belt, 
pushed a few buttons, with such admirable stealth, 
algorithms aplenty - all perfectly aligned, 
as the engine started roaring, boisterously alight. 
 
The rocket ascended at last, it set sail yonder, 
to the farthest frontier that this universe could conjure, 
and after it finally left the vivid atmosphere, 
Gretta was so happy, she let out a smiling tear. 
 
Days passed and she was put in catatonic sleep, 
immobile and still, immersed in lovely dreams, 
suddenly with a thud, the ship had landed still, 
She woke up instantly, with a newfound thrill. 
 
She wore the lunar suit, which she had stitched herself, 
opened up the bolted door and descended the metal steps, 
the moment she touched ground, she turned around, 
and got pleasantly surprised by what she found! 
 
A red-hatted impish elf, sat crossed leg, 
a large nosed fairy stood, munching on nutmeg, 
two rabbits bowed down to the rabbit goddess, 
and two more pressed her feet, in a soft caress. 
 
Gretta walked a step and heard the elf shout, 
"oh silly person, take that suit out!, 
we've got oxygen, plenty of em to breathe, 
that suits a waste o' time and energy!" 
 
Gretta obeyed, and unzipped the heavy suit, 
underneath she wore a dress - flowery and cute, 
"good going, young child, now lemme show you, 
this lovely wonderland which you dub the moon!" 
 
And the elf was right, they met unicorns, 
box-laden garden paths and joyous little fauns, 
walking and talking scarecrows, nursing little crows, 
small blue doll houses with chuckling gnomes. 
 
within a crater lived a colony of werewolves, 
but they were nice and fair - specially one named Ulf, 
he'd give her milk and tea with chocolate biscuits, 
and in order to keep her warm, red spotted mitts. 
 
The goddess too was nice, a wise and lovely soul, 
"be imaginative and create, but don't forget your goal", 
she'd also give her nutmeg of such abundant variety, 
her best friend was a Faun, so strong and mighty. 
 
and the Minotaurs build Gretta a lovely home, 
with a mushroom roof and walls build of foam, 
"stay here with us, Gretta, you'd have a great time", 
said the red-hatted elf while singing a rhyme. 
 
Gretta thought and thought, she came to a decision, 
she decided to stay for sure, she looked forward for her admission, 
and from thereon, life for her was perfected, 
all her dying wishes had suddenly been resurrected.
 


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The People Around Me

Things seems to be very clear,
When actually felt it is unclear,
What really seems to be clear,
May never ever be clear for ever.

Your help for others,
May be to be appreciated,
Or taken as what is called,
to be uncounted.

My question is clear,
Why the help for others,
Is sometime never appreciated,
However it is always delivered. 

In response to ethics,
lingers in my mind the answer,
To help others is not to be recognised, 
But it is to be called someone, 
Who can be respected.

To all, continue to help,
Not to to be appreciated by others,
But to be respected by yourself.


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Upon A Bed Of Petals

                                                        Upon A Bed of Petals
                                    The fragrance is so heavenly full of romance
                            With petals smooth and colorful it puts me into a trance
                                    The light shines upon the area of which they lay
                               With the oasis of beautiful smell I fall in a deep delay
                                    The aroma of sweet beauty comes a dream
                                With motion that reveal emotions with great steam

                                                        Upon A Bed Of Petals
                           Comes a well spent year with joyous laughter and self appeal
                                   With open arms we embrace the life that is surreal
                             Comes a time that we do have to dream with petals of life
                                         With occasional choices of passion and strife 
                                   Comes a venue of flowers of many beauty with value
                                      With another part of each season we stand true

                                                         Upon A Bed Of Petals
                                  The scent of life passes through and makes new
                                With loops that can be seen in an open sky so blue
                                   The wind takes one petal or two to show a trust
                          With to passionate people lying by the petals love is entrust
                                     The beauty is that the petal lasts in memory of
                              With two people passion with love rules true and above


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Apple Of My Eye

She is a southern girl.
She is a country gal.
She is the apple of my eye.
Her beautiful long red hair is done up in a ponytail.
A baseball cap sits upon her head all cattywampus.
She has the most lovely sparkling green eyes.
She has a beautiful smile that drives me wild.
She has the softest voice in the whole wide world.
And of course she speaks with a southern drawl.
I have never seen her in a dress.
It’s sweatshirt and faded jeans in the fall and winter.
It’s t-shirt and jean shorts in the spring and summer.
As for her feet it’s her choice: tennis shoes or flip flops.
For all of eternity she will always be the apple of my eye.


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Two Trees

Oh tree to my right how you mirror the left
Tree on the left, with great vigor you grow
When waters run dry, your roots search below
To the ends of all branches; lush fruits like Eden
Hundred thousand leaves dance in the wind

Oh tree to my right what phantom did come
Yielding fruit no more; nor vivid leaves to sway
All branches have ceased, no more but a stump
Fifty thousand leaves dance in the wind

Oh tree to my left so valiant, so true
A whip of your branch & firm grip of the wind
To the right, one seed you give; let life grow anew
Solitude tis as fire bound for a tree, a simple truth to all
Fifty thousand leaves dance in the wind

Oh tree to my right; look, now you're grown
As was, now are; from the tree to the left came your rebirth
Teeming with life & beauty displayed
Hundred thousand leaves dance in the wind


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Pretty Things

She skips.
Sunlight combing her hair,
Bright lines through braids.
With sweet song notes dancing on lips.

She trips.
Verdant beds cushion her fall.
Tickling her with soft petals and stems,
As song turns to laughter.
The notes quickly flip.

She places her flowery clip,
In her hair. blue bloom lightening the air.
The smell of dark honey,
Leads her away from thoughts of the whip.

She giggles, pouncing towards another lily,
The two filled the grove, a merry pair.
“Hello”. She cups the lilies’ bulb,
With hands like leather,
Gentle as a feather.

She whispers through scarred lips.
“Just thought you should know how pretty you are”.


10/13/13


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Rosalina

Rosalina is a Spanish lass,
she slipped across the Juarez pass;
evaded the cops, eluded the hounds,
and made it up to my hometown.
Biggest brown eyes to ever grace God’s green earth,
a mouth filled with happiness, laughter, joy and mirth.
Legs so long and lean that they touch the ground,
and stretch all the way back up to paradise found.
Hips that swivel, swing and sway independently,
defying all of the known laws of gravity.
A voice so soft and sweet it puts the angels to shame,
makes my heart skip a beat every time she says my name.
Breasts so round and firm they bounce to a Latin beat;
make a blind man stare and a deaf mute speak.
Puts her arms around my neck, leans forward and kisses me;
giving me a little glimpse of what eternity will be.
Sits in my lap and tells me all of her hopes and dreams,
makes me think the Lord moved heaven to earth, or so it seems.
She wiggles and jiggles and giggles a lot;
makes a warm blooded man sun spot hot.
God surely looked down from heaven and took pity on me,
and sent lovely Rosalina to take good care of me.
She’s sweeter than honey from the honeycomb,
and makes my house a happy, loving home.
So, if the jerks at INS think they are going to deport my gal, well,
those lousy stinking rat bastards can go straight to hell.


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Indefinite Love

I saw a young lady who was so perfect that she made my heart beat
I could not figure it out and now I really don't know I had to take a seat
She smiled like an angel in the heavens with glorious blinding teeth
She seems so kind and full of life and never put people beneath
I do not have a bad thought or a moment without any ease
I notice that because she pulled me up and smiled with a tease
She kept things close to her like my hand and my heart
She knew that I was just the man that gave her a good start
I never had a thought of leaving because of a fight
I will never part with her because she is my sight
She looks forward at all times and never looks back
She knows how I am if some one would hurt her I would attack
I will never leave her side with out her knowing she is safe and sound
I am the man of her dreams I will never let her down hard on any ground
She loves me with all her heart and I know this because she gives me the look
She knew how long I waited for her to notice me, I remember it was long time it took
I waited by her side when she was ill and could not walk 
I held her hand and made her smile when I told her I love her, when I talk
She noticed it in my voice the feelings with care
She never looked at me in a blank stare


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Lost in Love

I see behind  those pretty little eyes.
The beauty of which a thousand years couldn't possibly change.
I see Pure beauty, but what do you see in me?
Do you see a stubborn boy filled with kindness.
Or what you want, you believe you see.
A boy you ignore in a good way.
Not meaning to be cruel, but kind.
Am I that fool that falls for you,
or am I the smart one 
for knowing you in your ways.


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in my mind only

in my mind is a place of unbearable beauty so agonizing to recall the charm a place so lovely and pretty, rows of sweet homes with window boxes of bright flowing flowers and lace curtains billowing in the breeze the place of my early childhood where children played and lived safe until that day, that dark day the day my sister Suzanne died hit by a passing truck, suddenly and my world changed forever and ever my family left this home far behind, we moved but in my mind this place remained unbearably beautiful many, many years have passed, life has gone on and now I return for the first time the beauty in my mind shattered beyond belief replaced by the reality of an inner city ghetto rundown, devastated, ravaged rows of boarded up crumbling houses, gone to waste and ruin it is more than I can fathom but yet, yet there is a shadow of the beauty that was and as I view the destruction of a time passed houses fallen and given away to neglect I realize my memory is no longer a valid thing closing my eyes, I imagine the loveliness that once was a time that I had placed upon a pedestal gone forever in reality only and forever existing in my wandering mind this unbearable beauty of a place and time . . . May 17, 2013 Narrative Submitted to the contest, A poem that took more than a week to write


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As a stranger I met you

As a stranger I met you
Pure and gentle was your appearance
You spoke a touch without words
A breeze so pure like light

As I listened with my eyes
I smelled the taste of beauty beyond honey
What a feeling?
An emotion lost within expressions
An experience of heaven's true Agape

Oh what an experience to share
A beauty whose light can't be gazed
A gift priceless to be bought free
Your touch so perfect to the broken

Yes your name is Love
Your nature perfect in quality and in glory
oh Eden's first language
You're that truth I can't hide 


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My Living Painting

“Where is it?” I asked the art dealer with no preamble whatsoever. The tears were about to spill down my cheeks, and I found it hard to get the words past the lump in my throat. He sensed it.

He looked down at me from his studio balcony. “I sold it.”

I turned away and ran towards my car, the grief eating away at my soul as the tears now gushed down needing release. Why had I waited? It was too late. Too late.

At home, I flung myself on the living room couch and through sobs, told my husband what had happened. He looked at me dumbfounded, unable to comprehend what that painting meant to me. 
 
He had been away on one of his many trips when I had passed by the art studio and seen the painting. Perhaps anyone else would have found it plain, not outstanding, not heart stopping, but for the first time, a painting actually spoke to my heart.  I was enthralled by the image of a wooden door of a typical Cypriot village home- just a door but cascading down around it was a spray of fuchsia bougainvillea, my favorite flower. The contrast of the colors of the door, the wall, and that spray of heavenly flowers was simply overwhelming. I loved everything quaint…the lovely villages of Cyprus, the cobblestone streets, the picturesque homes. My heart mourned. It would not be comforted.

Why hadn't I just written a check? Why had I waited to ask for permission when I knew how badly I wanted that painting to be hung on my wall, feeding my soul every day with beauty? Why had I been naive enough to tell the art dealer that every time I passed by the window, my heart would beat in a frenzy, for after that, he had placed it in the very front of the display window. Now it was gone. FOREVER.

Time passed. Every time I remembered my painting, my heart bled. I moved to Lebanon. You can never know how overwhelmed I was when I first saw the backyard of my new home, for there were TWO fuchsia bougainvillea trees, the branches of one reaching down to almost touch my dining room window. 

My heart sings everyday, for these flowers are not captured on canvas, they live. The flowers dance and sway with the breeze, contrasting with the green of the grass, the blue of the sky, and the brown of the pine tree trunks. I look at the spray of glorious flowers, and my soul is fed by my loving God.

Persian Proverb by Saadi: 

“If of thy mortal goods, thou art bereft
And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left
Sell one and from the dole
Buy Hyacinths to feed the soul”

Eileen G


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Why Can't I Be Young, Rich and Thin

That answer to that is painfully simple: I’m a disabled, thirty-something individual with compromised mobility…and I’m a lazy S.O.B...

But, oh, how I fantasize! And loath am I to torture myself by looking at all the exquisite, fabulous fashion creations by Versace, Comme Des Garcons, Missoni and Vivienne Westwood; elegant creations I will never be able to wear, let alone afford. Though I enjoy being a man and would have it no other way, I envy women and sometimes wish I was one, just so I could wear a Versace gown, even if it were just to take out the trash.

I worship fashion and models; they are my demigods. They embody all that is outwardly beautiful. I don’t mind the shallowness of it. I wish I was Coco Rocha, Naomi Campbell, Janice Dickinson, Linda Evangelista, Tyra Banks, Milla Jovovich, all rolled into one. I wish I could strut and stomp the catwalk; to pound the runway in some outrageous creation by Rei Kawakubo. To jet-set to Paris, Milan, Tokyo, London…! I would die and go to fashion heaven, and see Gianni, and I would be his Muse. Poor, Gianni; why did that bastard kill you? Genius was lost that day and fashion has since suffered in your absence.

I wish I was as skillful with sewing as I am with words; since I’ll never be a model, I’d at least like to design clothes that would echo my influences. A mesh of the sex of Versace, the elegance of Missoni, the insane artistic destruction and anti-fashion of Comme des Garcons and the hipness of Vivienne Westwood; yes, that would be my style, as my poetry echoes Poe, Shelley, Keats and Dickinson. 

But, alas and alas again! For these are all but mere dreams and fantasies that shall never be fulfilled! But a gay boy can dream, can’t he?


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Beauty of the Heart

Your love to me I am on fire.
My desire of the heart it feels.
Your words I hear your voice among them.
I reach out to touch but can not feel.
My empitness of life the void of image I see.
A beauty before my grace I fall to my knees.
My tears they drench in sorrow.
The belove I hold near my heart in dreams.
But only in hopes of tomorrows do I love.
But my every desire to touch and hold you close.
It is my dream to love once more deep in my soul.
But never be alone in darkness and always be love in heart.