A lone moth flits around my front porch light
as wind blows through my window, luring me
to step outside into black velvet’s night.
I search the sky, but no moon can I see.
It seems it’s disappeared, just like my love.
The moaning wind plays havoc with my hair
as that old bulb sways crazily above.
In solitude, I simply stand and stare
at the fool insect! How can it not know
the falseness of the light that it’s drawn to?
fluorescent doom replaces moon’s sweet glow.
I know this well because in losing you
I lost love’s gleam; I lost my everything,
and still that silly moth is fluttering. . .
For the Chopped II - Poetry Contest of Craig Cornish
Ocean breeze gently blowing that silky hair
Your seductive sway, sauntering over here
Those rich red ruby lips, soft, supple and sweet
Day dreaming of the time we'll forever meet
Those deep passionate eyes, batting at me
Gazing into my soul, looking to set me free
That pretty little smile, sprinkling angel dust
Giving to you all my heart, my head, my trust
That silky smooth skin glistening in the light
That first nervous hi, making things feel right
Your playful giggle, laughing at all my bad jokes
When you touch my arm, those precious strokes
One day you'll be mine and that time will be ours
Our hearts beating as one, our minds in the stars
Avenge me not, for death has been a friend
and anger ill befits love's gentle wine.
All lovers true or not, must part, ascend:
rise, or fall, as life's trials their paths assign.
Still as bone, white as winter's snow my skin
by candle light, one can almost see inside.
My hair a gossamer halo, so thin,
my eyes, my blue eyes, still contain the tide.
I am your fair Persephone, your wife, bride,
and soon I will return to you Hades
to rise born on cherry blossom tides;
when in the earth, I can no longer bide.
Bless gentle Thanatos for his death sublime
and Hypnos, as in sleep, I do recline.
You’re sleeping soundly, but I’m left on fire
Engulfed by flames of burning hot desire
I yearn for you, and in my heart’s an ache
For I must wait till sun kissed, you awake
I think of you, so full of every grace
You’re angel bearings show upon your face
The strength of virile man is in your stance
It makes the heart in me just want to dance
To know that you are mine is sweetest treat
It makes me want each day anew to greet
The joy of losing self there in your eyes
Gives me the wings I need to take to skies
You give me strength; you give me love that’s true
My world is epic all because of you
For Gautami Phookan’s Contest- I think of You
February 17, 2015
Looking out in the setting sun
I'm blinded by the glare abound
Distracted by the smoke and noise
Barely able to hear a sound
As the welkin turns to dark from light
Stars shine bright in the night time skies
I wonder do you see them too
Sparkling brightly in your deep eyes
In the wind I can hear your voice
Blowing across the vast blue sea
Speaking so softly in my ear
Whispering come and rescue me
Wishing upon the stars up high
My love for you will sooth your cry
On every tenth of June
The sea waves splash upon the moors for years
and shadows draw along the walls festoons
unspoken verse, conceived on silent piers,
the advent of our loneliness attunes.
That day of June remained our only fair
and minds' ascension to the astral reign,
blooms' multitude and fragrances’ affair
a purple thistle on the field and rain.
Remember me, a windy song and laugh,
our holding hands and young, the Summer’s call,
we celebrated then, upon the wharf
and acanthine of solitude's dance hall.
On every tenth of June my eyes embrace,
above the summer moors, your lines of face.
© G. Venetopoulos, 06-14-2013, All rights reserved
Like violets were her eyes when first I spied
the lady with a sweet child’s face who peeked
at me from bushes that she stood beside,
alluring Lilah, beaming, apple-cheeked!
And so it was that more and more I found
myself among the lilacs in that place
where first we’d met, that I might hear the sound
of Lilah’s laugh and glimpse her angel’s face.
On fragrant garden paths we knew the thrill
of blossoming affection. Poetry
was time we spent! But when my love fell ill,
the autumn of our bliss was not to be. . .
I visit Lilah now where she’s at rest
nearby the lilac blooms she liked the best.
For the "One of Your Best" contest of gautami phookan
My love is like a worker's gloves grown old.
His hands are leather, roughened now with age
and years of work in weather hot and cold,
yet through the many years, he has grown sage. . .
My love is like a builder's pair of boots.
He's dusty and fatigued and still he walks
while trailing mud, but now his attributes
shine through despite life's many stumbling blocks.
My love is like a pair of jeans much worn,
a pair of socks with holes that have stayed warm.
Though time and all the trials he has borne
have left him frayed, he wishes no one harm.
To write a beaming sonnet would not do,
but threadbare love (in some ways) bests the new.
For PD's "first love poem~ (on the soup) Poetry Contest"
Written about a month after I came to Soup in the new year
The day I left Madrid, I waved goodbye
to someone dear to me. I still can see
his dark brown eyes that could not tell a lie,
those same eyes I’d beheld so tenderly
each day when he would show up at my door.
Where is my friend Eduardo, whom I left
behind so long ago and never more
would see again? I know he was bereft
from letters that he sent, and I replied
that we would meet again. I could not know
how wrong I was or if he ever cried
for me. How easily I let him go!
How innocent and beautiful was he!
Unbearable the beauty of my memory.
For the Soulful Words Poetry Contest of Kim Morrison
He held me through the maelstrom of my heart
strong arms of comfort, chest of solid might
with soothing touch the healing he did start
he brought the rays of sun to warm my night
the whispers in my ear were tender, sweet
they breathed into my soul his courage fierce
he vanquished all the cold with flaming heat
and placed his balm on wounds that lies did pierce
my heart he touched and made to beat once more
my eyes he kissed with truth, and I could see
On lips his love with kisses he did pour
he arms a haven that was meant to be
To him who loves me with such constant care
my dreams, my soul and body I will bare
Locked up, shackled, tied down and chained
Feeling empty, exhausted, used up and drained
Your heart unsettled with its flickering flame
Probing for answers in life's little game
I hear your cries echoing into the dark night
I could tell you everything will be alright
I feel your big lonely heart splitting apart
I could say I'll give your heart a fresh start
I hear your words begging to stop the blues
I could say I will be your knight and rescue you
I hear the tremble in your voice when you speak
I could tell you I'd hug you and kiss your cheek
These eyes don't lie, I'll probably never be with you
My tears fall knowing there is nothing more I can do
The give and take in love should reach a mean
Whereby the two be equally disbursed,
So givers' hearts would never suffer lean,
Cold hungry hours without love reimbursed.
And those who take would never reach the stage
Of ravenous and selfish, one-way traits.
Such balance would create a better age,
If give and take maintained their equal weights.
But somehow this could never balance out—
For givers give beyond the gifts they bear;
In turn, must feed on crumbs, for without doubt
The hungry takers take beyond their share.
While takers tip the scale with all they gain,
The givers, weak and thin, smile through their pain.
© Sandra M. Haight 2015
All Rights Reserved
Contest: Love Justice
Sponsor: Justin Bordner
If love could have a color, I suppose
it wouldn’t be just any common shade.
I’d name it for the colors of the rose.
In heaven’s hues this flower is arrayed!
From chaste love’s hush of pink to heady rush
that’s shown by cardinal or crimson red,
the rose reveals the grades of ardor’s blush
unto the time it’s thought that passion’s fled.
But in the tint of amaranth, the fire
endures; in purple deep it can transcend,
while yellow blooms in bliss that does not tire,
and white’s fidelity will have no end.
Though black the bud, a red will grow thereof.
By any other name, the rose is love.
For the ROSES ROSES ROSES Poetry Contest of Mystic Rose
For PD's any rose will do. ....... (poems of roses contest) old only.... Poetry Contest
Sunshine peering through the skies of grey
Wishing for another perfect summer day
The scent of jasmine lingering in the crisp air
Soon all this beauty we will be able to share
You came into my lonely life at the perfect time
Giving much meaning to my silly little rhymes
Thirty more days and the two of us become one
The future's before us, our journey has just begun
The way you give me a smile, when my days are blue
The way you finish my words, like you already knew
The way you dance when the band plays our song
The way things always are better, nothing ever wrong
I love you my darling , from the depths of my soul
Your the perfect companion, you make me whole
Do you know what it feels like
The moment when love strikes
Did you feel the beat of my heart
Did you love me from the start
The days of walks in the park
The slow dances in the dark
The passionate kisses you gave
Faithfully to you, I was a slave
I looked at you and saw paradise
I was in your trance, hypnotized
When all your breath was lost
Then did our love start to frost
I gave to you all my love, so freely
When you remember me, think kindly
Unconditional, I hide no longer.
His friendship touched me and made me stronger.
Never face to face, type to type on screen.
For his words I hunger, poetic feign.
Secrets exposed in a safe secure place.
His heart, my hands, a smile on each face.
We dance upon the keyboards in plain sight.
Entertaining you every single night.
Whether a duet or riding solo.
His warmth fills me where ever I go.
Only months has past but he is the best friend.
Strength in the beginning, never will end.
To my poetic partner, I dig you.
How I enjoy this dancing that we do.
For contest: Sonnet on intimate relationships
Sp. regina riddle
Featuring:) Giorgio Veneto
She writes about Fall's beauty in the rain
The falling raindrops' dance ascribing thence
Bespoken verse that lightens her refrain
before the time they met - her steps commence.
She listens to the soft and rhythmic thrum,
her love turned to escape and cloudy string
Where nimbus mistletoe fell, tears to become
Their kiss of Autumn was symbolic ring.
The first light cotton mists with summer rays
While skyward cheerful laughs adorn the land,
their ceremonial dance diffuses grays,
affectionate embrace, where dreams expand.
Upon September's sky the raindrops gleam
With half of hidden Sun to laugh and beam.
Enjoy the FRAGRANCE OF RAIN
FRAGRANCE OF RAIN
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
I stand here by the lakeshore, and I smell
fresh honeysuckle as I kiss the rain.
A memory that I cannot curtail
wafts bitter sweetly to me, and again
it’s May. . . the night you came to me by moonlight.
The air was permeated by perfume
from blossoms colored innocently white.
But now it’s summer; yellow is each bloom.
When plump upon the vines, sweet berries, red,
will be swooped up by birds and carried away.
I stoop to touch a stem. How soon has fled
my flowered youth, and now this day chilled grey,
I bow in downpour like the vines bent low
while raindrops turn to tears and - glistening - flow.
For the Contest of Gail Doyle
Again she sees those vibrant sleeves of green
And hears those gentle whispers and soft sighs
Alone beneath a willow lost in dreams
An old woman reflects through misty eyes
To see her now so deeply scarred by time
A beauty once now buried in the folds
Upon that road of passion left behind
The bitter price she paid for growing old
The park where they first met is much the same
Where those two hearts she sees again entwined
Engraved upon the stone that bears his name
Upon her soul forever in her mind
A barren stone awaits her by his side
Beneath those gentle whispers and soft sighs
Author: Elaine Cecelia George, of Canada
The title is from a quote of Shakespear which
inspired this sonnet.
I remember the day I picked you,
With your sweet little puppy dog eyes.
For my heart was searching for love too,
When I looked down and heard your soft cries.
Your brothers and sisters were running,
They were after a fallen clothes peg,
But there was a puppy so stunning
Trying hard to get up on my leg.
Four years it has been since that moment
And I thank God daily for his gift
Each day you give me such enjoyment
Your love has given my heart a lift.
Today I know as clear as can be,
I didn’t pick you; rather you picked me.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
In twilight, old songs you're softly humming
Silken smiles enliven your lovely face
Beguiling my present still, becoming
in everything, sweeter than granted grace
Deep your eyes, beheld above the stillness
of mystic mien, dismissing every voice
Caresses known in sadness and in illness
in bounty cherished, if you make the choice
Alluringly, you draw the bedroom curtain
and sing in softest voice of violins
Of languid looks and outcome certain
as old as Eve, the ancient dance begins
Sway, your heated honey scent of passion
and poise, anticipating kiss conceived
shall return my longing, in your fashion
and make my life ten times a joy perceived
Great grows my love to see your moves entrance
and weave with siren song the ancient dance
First version January 23, 2014
Revised and lengthened February 28, 2015
My love for you I carry in my heart
A growing ache, albeit tender, sweet
For from my body you are miles apart
My words like tender kisses sent to greet
Each letter and each thought with love is tied
Poetic lines immersed in passion’s hue
The secrets of your heart in them confide
My messengers of love sent out to you
Dear heart, be sure to read between the lines
At times a message stronger there you’ll find
Wild fantasies encrypted in these signs
My paradise you’ll enter with your mind
Who dares to doubt the written face of love
Has never flown on words to heights above
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I shall nay know all the wonders - you hold
For all too soon the winds of winter blow
Scarlet petals withering in the snow
How cruel the breath that kills the velvet rose
Tears - that canst’ bear the thought of letting go
Forever frozen in this empty soul
A broken heart forever turned to stone
A broken stem left now to stand alone
Alas! I find that life is bitter-sweet
As I stand holding only memories
Of a rose blooming in the summer breeze
Here beneath this old weeping willow tree
Once I held the sweetest rose - ever born
Now – in my grief – I hold the bitter thorn.
Author: Elaine George
As precious stones are hidden and entwined
In minerals of ordinary worth,
They must be found, professionally mined
From common, rocky layers of the earth.
Extracted, polished, cut, they'll stand apart
As valued gems. Neglected, they will share
In earth's destructive force—erosion's art—
Dissolve away with nature's wear and tear.
Oh God, you are both mine and miner; strip
This soul embedded in your work of clay,
And let your tools of grace and fellowship
Preserve the gem of Love from life's decay.
Cut many facets that reflect and show—
The worth of gem and miner in its glow.
© Sandra M. Haight 2014
All Rights Reserved
Contest: Precious Stones and Gems
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Once, side by side, they walked the moonlit beach
In silence, each alone and incomplete
In separate worlds, joined only by the reach
Of tiny, lapping waves upon their feet.
As silver beams of moonlight iced the ground
And blotted out the warmth of sandy gold,
The warmth of humanness was hidden, bound
Beneath blind souls that shivered in the cold.
Yet on the sand their shadows danced along—
A silhouetted couple synchronized
In motion…forms united, clear and strong
Against the blankness which the moon devised.
Dark, shadow puppets sparked a guiding light—
Gave living souls new vision in the night.
© Sandra M. Haight 2014
All Rights Reserved
Sponsor: John Lawless
Tell me I'm the one, the love of your life.
It's not my fault you won't become my wife
I'll look in your eyes as I dream my dreams.
We can both pretend, it's not what it seems.
I know there's another who holds your heart.
I can't stand that it's ripping mine apart.
So I will take this, just one more night.
Hold me and rock me, till the morning light.
My pain is to great, please whisper sweet lies.
My brain knows what my Heart can't realize.
I'll give you freedom, please let me pretend.
I am not ready, for this love to end.
Tomorrow walk away, that is your chance
I will survive, if you give me one glance
Sonnet on an intimate relationship.
Love is the bind between the sighs and cries
A choice made to hold onto what matters
The strength to move within the lows and highs
And hold the fragile heart when it shatters
To fit oneself into a world of two
Release the light to splay upon the dark
And show the traveled path when love is new
To fill the colored world with rainbow's arc
Find a hand of comfort that one can hold
And move from youth to the days of gray
Live a peaceful life as the years turn old
To walk the graveled roads and always stay
If love can be of this, then we will know
The love we shared will leave an afterglow
(This is about an Irish/Celtic legend:
Oenghus & Caer)
A hundred-fifty swans in dancing light
of sun were shimmering upon the lake
when Oenghus, God of Love, beheld the sight
and called to her who made his poor heart ache,
“You haunt my dreams. I die for love of you!”
With her reply, the cloak that he had on
changed into soft white wings, for love was true.
And thus it was he joined her as a swan.
How great their joy when Oenghus met his mate,
the fair Caer, there in the gleaming throng.
Imagine knowing bliss to be your fate!
In unison, they sang a wondrous song.
It sweetly lulled all listening to sleep,
a melody their hearts would ever keep.
All my daydreams have come true
Since I first laid my eyes upon you
So much passion, so much desire
This dark knight's heart is on fire
I've dropped the mighty sword that I yield
Exchanging it for a kiss that is sealed
Your soft touch, silky, smooth and fine
Against my skin, makes me feel divine
This knight's nights have gotten brighter
Now becoming a lover, no longer a fighter
Wrapped in my arms, don't make a peep
You've ignited a flame way down and deep
Come take my hand, I await your command
Together, in battle, we will conquer this land
My feline bittersweet awakening
came decked with golden trim of flawless days.
A time it was to frolic and to fling
ourselves in grass, all afternoon to laze.
Together we were fearless, wild and free,
a noble lion and his lioness.
And sadly, neither one of us could see
that passion such as ours would evanesce.
Our error was believing that each kiss
could carry us. . . that love could multiply
or even match July’s exceeding bliss.
By summer’s end, our ardor had run dry.
A lion’s appetite can satiate,
and love - less noble then - will soon abate.