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Best Cadence Poems

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New Cadence Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Cadence poems are below this new poems list.

CADENCE AND CALLIOPE AT CONANICUT ISLAND by Walker, Sonia
TIEN4TODAY cadence by Strand, Brian
IN RIME OR ELSE IN CADENCE by Strand, Brian
De-Cadence by Lindsay, Bill
OL BROTHER CADENCE by krichbaum, william
This fruitful Mass Of Cadence by Johnson, Nicole
Whispered Cadence by Roark, Odin
Catching Cadence by Adelana, Olajide
The familiar cadence in autumn by escobar, mark
Dreams of flawless cadence by Jackson, Earl

View all new Cadence Poems

The Best Cadence Poems

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Amidst the Fallen Petals

He was ever gentle with her
always careful
composed
never passing the boundaries
never asking too much
a man of his culture
and bearing
didn’t move too fast

She was a flower
pristine...virginal
a flower he had plucked
from her family’s garden
with their blessing
she was safe in his keeping
though her scent drove him mad
its floral fragrance fascinating
deliriously desirous
she was fresh and innocent
he meant to make her bloom

He was patient
It was enough that she had consented to be his
she admired him
that he knew
it would be enough
enough
for now…

And so he waited
willing for her to feel
admiration turn to love
love turn to passion
and so, he put her in a vase
filled with the nourishment of his love
and he tended to her
admiring her
his fragrant rose

Tonight he showed her the home
that would be hers
theirs….

But what was this?
that look in her eye
different
the shyness gone
he saw…. longing
her face radiant
her lips inviting
petal pink
to match her cheeks
his rose
his flower
HIS
and yet
he dared not touch her that way
for fear of crushing her
in his rough hands

She whispered
ever so lightly
perhaps he dreamed it
maybe it was the breeze
whispering through the window
as it danced in her hair

No, there it was again…
“It is time…
I am ready.”
the meaning of her words
hung in the space between them
making it impossible to breathe
or even to think

And he watched
incapable of movement
as she stepped away from him
in the middle of the room
she turned to look at him
and one by one
she unfurled the petals
of her clothing
and let them fall down
fluttering to the floor
layer upon layer…discarded
all the while
as she undressed
ever so slowly
her eyes invited him

There she stood
with no covering
her raven hair
cascaded down her skin
reaching down 
to the curve of her breasts
covering what he had only seen
touched
tasted
in dreams…
but this
this was real
she was real
and she held out her hand to him

"Do I please you?"
her voice caressed the words
for she knew
the power of her beauty
she must have seen the answer
there in his eyes 
for she moved forward
ever so slightly
“Come…come to me, my love…”

He was there
in an instant
his arms around her
he was there
before the lilting cadence of her last word
had a chance to fade away

She smiled,
once again a little shy
She reached up to him
letting him melt into her kiss
as she slowly drew him down

There
surrounded by the strewn petals
on the floor of their home
in the bed of his heart
he claimed her
as his own...
his flower
his rose
amidst the fallen petals...
he heard her sigh

Eileen Manassian Ghali



Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

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A Reminder: To Be


Those of you with a unique voice,
with a vision painted outside the lines of over-regulated cadence and rhyme,
I implore you to continue exploring a core
that is fearless in writing against the grain of convention --
for this very friction is a sandpaper helping to perpetually re-invent 
yourself by smoothing your raw, unfiltered passion
into a timeless chair in which people of the future will sit in
while reading your poetry ....

.... and their brows will crease, their eyebrows will arch into gates
where sighs of enlightenment will pass through,
for they are reading poetry that has not lost its novelty,
nor is it mimicry: a despondent, washed-out version
of 20 million other identically tired poems already written and read.

If you feel yourself being sucked down by the undertow 
of homogenization, fight against the current, drag yourself onto shore,
let sunlight percolate pure word-intentions from the nucleus 
of your ancient psalm-writing ancestry.

Your ancestors left behind DNA building blocks,
disciplinary examples and practices 
with which to construct mitochondrial drift
that bridges together the past and future
into a runway for you to take-off from
after the training wheels have been removed,
and gain a bird's eye view of what was,
what will always be sacred but not yours to build a mynah nest in
once truth's marrow is tasted from its winged divine inspiration --
a bird's eye view lifting above carbon-copy complacency.

To always be the freedom that manifests your luminous originality.




September 18th, 2013




+/-


Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2013

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Intangible

There was change, a new pulse, cadence, and tone, where my mother had been, the only place I had known Where two maples stretched out, to cradle my dreams, and shelter my life, in the house I called home On a make-shift bed, I was lying awake, Windows cracked open, a wind coming in, .... Intangible nights, in the familiar old room, alone with my thoughts, while sorting out things... There was a strange, jaundice glow, from the porch light, left on, and my pillow felt cold, where the moon used to go The sound of a moth, batting wings against glass, was begging for warmth, while seeking to ask, a place that made sense And a place to fit in My father was sleeping, with his newlywed bride in the same sacred bed, where my mother had died And a new child was dreaming in the soft yellow room where I spent all those nights, ... just me and the moon I was happy for him, and for the child that he gained. I was there at his side, when the changes became.. a part of his life, ...... a part of mine too But, I was lost in the amber, like a moth batting wings Yet, somehow I grew, with a new point of view The child that I was, still waits for the moon I've grown older and wiser, maybe stronger than then,... But, still the moth that looks in, while under the moon resisting the screen seeking the flame... batting my wings, while resisting the change, ....again, and again
__________________________________ 11/3//14


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014

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Dark Nostalgia.

A town unlocks their Baptist cage.
They shout and scream unholy rage.
The scorching sun sears all beneath,
Forsaken whips snap from their teeth.
Their eyes are slits that sting of salt.
Born black; born here; it's all his fault.
And what they learned at mothers' knee,
keeps cadence, creaking, from a tree.


Copyright © Gerard Keogh Jr. | Year Posted 2006

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LOVE STORY

LOVE STORY
The breeze is in my hair. The moon is gleaming behind me. The love I feel is everlasting. Cadence of my soul. Show me your happiness Share, my love. Laugh with me Our destiny is mixed with pleasure. Our essence treasured. Come walk with me in the garden. Alive - Let's reach our ultimate…high. Smile, darling smile Kiss me with your eyes. Forever we are. Champagne we drink To toss our uniting. You feel my sylph A fulfilled spirit. This journey succumbs me. I am free for you to love. Embrace your ideas Let the breeze come in. Dance to the ecstasy. Release all your fears. Capture this time As our minds, intertwine. Laugh with me Inflection of my soul. Show me your happiness. Share, my love. A majestic dynasty Our empire In time Now! Here we stand You and I forever. No obstacles have formed. You are my one and only. Woman, smile Kiss me with your eyes. Forever we are. Thrive - Let's reach our ultimate…highs. This is our life... Together This is our existence... Forever Ardor love Justified by God Come walk with me in the garden As we write our love story.
MY PHILOSOPHY
Man is man. His skin is what makes difference. His upbringing differentiates. This is, he states, “God's way.” DARK SUNSHINE - VSW _________________________________________| PENNED ON AUGUST 03, 2014!


Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

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When You Say My Name

You wrap my name
In syllables of love
Passion tinged sound units
Caressed by the beauty of your voice
you leave me no choice
but to yield....

breathed into my ear
you release
letter sojourners to travel
down the curve of my neck
to a cadence that captivates
and my heart capitulates
When you say my name....

When you say my name
saturated in n~e~e~d
wanting to be freed....
you make the appeal
wanting healing...immediate...real
your testosterone tempered tonality
temptingly deep...
it sets in motion
Resonance reverberations
that rock ecstasy's epicenter...
my name comes again
riding your waves of want...
it comes
in the full knowledge
that my release of liquid love
will welcome you in
to the inner sanctum sanctuary
where your body is idolized
and your name chanted...immortalized
in the rhythm and rhyme
of passion sublime
When you say my name...

When you say my name
you evoke the spirit of eternity
to dance the dance of life
weaving through and around
two simple syllables
of romantic antics
dancing and swaying
your voice calming playing
the trace of romance
leaving nothing to chance
when you say my name....

when YOU say...MY...N*A*M*E*

Eileen


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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Veteran's Day - 2015

Veteran’s Day - 2015


This day
	all flags
shed
	bloodied shadows
upon
	sacred soil
dotted
	with stilled crosses.

This day
parades
	weary soldiers

smile
	at the few who line the streets

march
	to familiar cadence

salute
	flag’s half mast history

weep
	as Taps resounds

across
	each generation’s tears.

This day
Peace
	will solemnly descend

upon those
	who kept her safe.



John G. Lawless
11/5/2015


Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015

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Afghan Journey

I want to wear a djellabas. Blackness engulfing me in its tentlike refuge veiled in gauze. Or a burkha of blue with a screen over my face to hide my eyes. I want to wear rope sandals down a dusty Afghan road on the warmest of days with the wind whistling through the Khyber Pass. I want to know the language, taste the food, gaze at the bearded men I pass who will not know I am looking at them. They are handsome and brave in Kabul. I want to hear the children reciting the Koran in their Pushtu cadence and play upon a tabir with a beat of peace.


Copyright © Sue Mason | Year Posted 2007

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What the Lord gave

The sun rests in its golden orb, shining bright dazzling the eyes
Meadows green with dew drops fresh, the cattle lazing away cries
The farmhands nap beneath the trees, the breeze caress and dies
	
As the curfew knells folks head home and pray
Thanking the Lord for the rewarding day
Face brimming with sheer bliss and mirth
Content they praise and sing from birth
What true happiness can be witnessed herein
For the Lord blesseth those who seek of him.

Those greedy and selfish , pine more riches 
Idle days wasted, in slumber and glitches
While holding contempt for those plebeians
And are never content,  contrasting agrarians
No time for Lord, who observe cadence
No more thanks for the blessings immense 

Heaven doth beckon those who believe
And the rest he reckon, to try and grieve

For....
This is the day that God gave to play and he purvey
This is the day that God gave to toil and stop foil
This is the world that God gave, for men to live and pray
This is the world that God gave to care, share and stay.

What a wonderful world!!!


© Nadiya (28 Jan '15)

*Won 3rd place on 30 Jan 2015 in the contest 'This is the day that Lord gave' by Verlena S. Walker



Copyright © poesy relish | Year Posted 2015

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Weeping Willow

Weeping Willow

The way your toes curl when you first wake up, yes I have been there to see this.
The way your nose wrinkles as you start to laugh, to this also I have been witness.
You twirl your hair and click your teeth when deep thoughts keep you guessing
And the way your eyes alight with flame when no longer the answers are vexing
Your lips pucker without thought of a kiss when something to you is amusing
About the crazy ideas that I might be having or a book you might be perusing.

I have seen you in the embers of a raging fire, and on the waves that crash upon the shore
I have heard you in the whisper of a windswept leaf as it dances upon the forest floor
I have felt you within a single drop of rain that nature brings to cleanse the earth
I have tasted no greater flavor than this, the nectar garnered from a true loves birth
I have smelled your beauty within the aroma of jasmine, honey, mint and Cinnamon
I have known you from the dawn of time, the cadence of two hearts abridged as one

And when you go to bed at night for some reason my shirts are more comfortable
Than the many things in the past I bought you that your lips told me were unaffordable.
And I have dried the tears that flowed from your eyes when agony came to break your heart
Your brows would furrow as sleep would take you, tomorrow would bring a brand new start
But regardless of this and nonetheless you snuggle in close and at night you shift your pillow
To the cooler side the place that brings solace on the opposite poll of the weeping willow


Copyright © Ryland Matthews | Year Posted 2010

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FROZEN HEARTBEAT


Another impoverished evening veiled so raven- bleak; the sky droops for one more burning the soul must retain, as she clings among lost stars in a frozen heartbeat scanning minutes weighed on jagged sounds of tune's replay. No twilight melody to sway as criss- crossed byways fog the light of blind thoughts like peeled matte from a wind's squall spouting tears unto a past in need of relief. While in her chest rakes a heavy screech of a broken harp's requiem as hands dangle on strings immersing in the chill of mute pondering until fingers tweak her solemn journey into thin trails of unwanted rain. Just there...in a wisp of air's cadence the night shuts off. SKAT's Deep And Dark Contest


Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014

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Bewitching

A magic forest
   Where chipmunks slide down moon beams
       And squeal with delight

Oh listen! You'll hear
    robins splash their tiny feet
        in pools of dewdrops

Like laughing children
    Crickets are playing their harps
        And dancing with joy

 Sweet songs at bedtime
   Moss covered carpets, soften
       the music for sleep

Hushed now, cadence of
   summer evening melody
      bewitching the dark
   



..................................................................................................................................
For Tirzah's "Fantasy" contest


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009

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Back To Basics

Back To Basics Let's walk the country road and faithfully keep cadence with the heartbeat of the wild, where life, unveiled in naked truth, sets free her gift of innocence. Just like a child, unblemished...pure in body, mind, and soul... finds simple joy with each new day unfurled, we'll stand alone with nature and extol the basic, priceless treasures of our world. We've built our prison-cities; in their hold like programmed flesh-machines we stop and run. The human longings in us soon grow cold as we turn switches on for work and fun. Let's walk the country road...let's laugh and play before the tears of time wash it away. Sandra M. Haight ~3rd Place~ Contest: Poem That Time Forgot 2 Sponsor: Silent One Judged: 2/22/2015 Old Poem - Not Entered Previously on Poetry Soup


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

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Before The Gates Of Alahsar - 1

"Before The Gates Of Alahsar." 
By, 
Vladislav Raven. 
Full Version. 
Bardic Style. 
The Time Before Time. 
 
 
Chapter....1....Part....1....1. 
 
 
Comest now mine Lords and Ladies, lifteth up thine ears and listen clear, 
The ancient tale of the dream land, Alahsar, layeth before thee. 
Looketh now in mind's eye, seeeth the golden gates to peaceful shrine, 
They standeth in wonder, a city of joy and peace, a most ancient  Jewel. 
I thy Bard, I standeth before thee, mine words are ready to sing, 
Mine beating heart of truth doth beat the cadence as mine heart doth speak. 
Oh Alahsar thy dream forever sung, I layeth it forth, ancient words, 
Comest now mine Lords and Ladies, Listen to the tale mine heart doth tellest. 
 
Never hadst there been dark in Alahsar's jeweled kingdom, 
The sky afire with a golden glow in a night of lightened twilight, 
All night this sun wouldst lieth low In the sky, a golden glory, 
This light of Love ever toucheth the beating heart of Alahsar. 
The sun doth sparkle off golden pinnacles and minarets bejeweled, 
The sun kisses gold so gently and golden light doth live, 
Mine Lords and Ladies, such a display of dazzling light effects, 
Forth did cometh the rainbows of dream's desire. 
 
Upward ran the virgin white stone dwellings of the city, 
They didst tower to such heights, reaching for the heart of Heaven. 
Open thy minds to the vision and seeeth, upward, upward, ever upward, 
Atop the great city a golden palace, how that glory did shineth. 
This was a golden beacon to all that Alahsar didst live, 
The city of dream in its golden coat arrayed didst sing dream's song. 
From the golden gates below to the golden palace atop, peace and joy did reign, 
I givest thee Alahsar, the city of dream constant, the dream sings. 
 
On the first level the dwellings of Alahsar's mighty armies, 
Of the most sumptuous furnishings they were arrayed. 
Seeeth within thy minds soldiers dressed in such regal splendour, 
Those on duty walketh proudly from dwellings to parapet wall. 
They all knoweth nights of passion in rooms of silken beauty, 
Primal passion emits its sighs and screams into the night. 
Communal wash areas were to the rear of these dwellings, 
They were behind high walls, built into the rock itself. 
 
To Be Continued.

January 2nd 2016.


Copyright © Vladislav Raven | Year Posted 2016

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Cabochon

Of bud bossed delicate; in its aroma much will enfold!
The turbulence of youth; also the seasoned and the old.
Tetra pedes, cross pages, sober.. in black, throughout the ages
Oh! to pass to others this understanding; and in bold.

Manifold are images, ‘thrusting now fresh into flower,
To awareness, of precious cargo; as in life’s laden bower...’
Penta metron sketch outlines, though imperfectly employed;
I reach to the stars today; as yet passes my hour!...

Translucence shows within the fading of life’s colour
As this continuing expressive awaits its turn, of another!..
My thoughts fill like pages, to blossoms in bloom
A soft falling, as petals; to your earth, my sister & brother...

To re-count of life’s possibility's... in the Rubaiyat form;
Melding its grandeur; to the bland magnitude of today’s norm!
Opening in its intricacy, the doorway to ecstasy 
Playing many a cadence, relayed from its echoes borne.

Ever may its blossoms & completeness be flowering, 
Entwining with the lines of the sages, to forever cling!
Refreshing the heart; perhaps a world? now tired and worn.
To a climax of prosody, does this weave of true praises sing.

© Joe Maverick.co.uk

I have added notes in the ‘To know more about this poem area’.


Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2013

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The River

Before the weary pilgrim, flowed a river fair and wide
The way was filled with danger,  he couldn't cross the other side;
So the pilgrim sought another to be his expert guide
With a boat that could take him through the surging tide.

The sailor man was strong and he steered the boat so well
Or did the river bear the boat?  It was so hard to tell;
The sailor told the pilgrim of the signs that he might seek
Of the secrets of the river and the message it would speak.

Then the pilgrim felt the peace so he listened and he heard
The murmer of the river and sighs of whispered word;
He heard the river laugh and then he heard it cry
And the pilgrim heard the message as sad tears filled his eye.

He heard the drums of war in the torrent of the rain
And the awful cries of anguish that he never could explain;
Was there a reason for the crossing, or where the river ran
Was there another reason for the journey of this man?

He heard the sounds of death, he heard the sounds of mirth
But nothing that he heard gave tribute to the earth;
The sounds were fused together till they reached a common goal
And the quiver of his heartbeat found a cadence in his soul.

The river lost its birthplace and embraced the open sea
And the pilgrim gave his thanks on reverent bended knee
He opened up his eyes as the sunrise slowly died
But the sailor man had gone and the boat rocked on the tide.

The river filled his veins till the two at last were one
While the tide rolled on forever and earth went round the sun;
The pilgrim was the river and the boat and sailor man
Were the journey of the song, the singing river sang.




This is my adaptation of "The Ferryman" by Herman Hesse


 


Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012

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When You Make Love to Me

When you make love to me with spoken word
Emblazoned body burns in ecstasy 
Desire’s cadence by my heart is heard
And secret wants demand supremacy

When you make love to me with wanton gaze
A melody of moistness throbs within 
Your gnawing glances do ignite the craze
Of body burning bright in sultry spin

When you make love to me with mute caress
Your hand usurps the moon and draws the flow
Of inner tides that rush in to posses
Your lips and mouth, a quenching to bestow

When you make love to me you set her free
Seductive Mistress of your fantasy

Jade



Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

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Daniel

You loved her with all your being, but then she left you wounded
Now you look at life without seeing, you feel your world has ended.

Young at twenty five and twenty three, but hope for you just ceased
To find someone though you were free, you've set your souls at peace
She’d settle for unworthy men, just not to be alone again
You gave up on love even then, seafarer who won’t sail in vain.

Young hearts alone and  lonely, but reaching to humanity
Paths have crossed though wanting only, to find your own identity
With curiosity and suspense, each with bated breath and still
Could listen to your pulse’ cadence, life’s void the other one could fill.

She was to you the blonde patience, you were the man she's longed for
Your pens spoke with great eloquence, biding  the time to come ashore
Beside the fireplace waiting, her radiant face and open arms
With love that set hearts blazing, found home in her dreams and charms.

How sweet the taste of one’s first love, that not all preconceived notions
Could have prepared you to think of, all the heated waves and oceans
That you would sail with bravery, secure in her warm embrace
In her there was no drudgery, bliss in her kiss, soft bed and lace.

But did you find true love indeed? It must have been the one question
That plagued as thoughts ebbed and receded, lost love, desire and passion
For you have shared your lives four years, just building all your dreams
Holding to each other in tears, rejoiced in her triumphs and schemes.

And yet she threw it all away, turned her back on love that's sincere
From your arms she went astray, went after what fed on her fear.
Gave up the years of love so pure, after meeting another man
Whose steadfastness she can’t be sure, as he abandoned his own clan.

Still you loved and was always there, when she needed you ‘til the end
During the storm you were her shelter, the lover whose love won’t bend.
The past year you were just coasting, along the shores, not knowing when
The wounds would heal and stop bleeding, wishing it’d stop right there and then.

Daniel my brother you should start, forget her and what could have been
Don’t let yourself fall apart, be strong, life’s more than what you have seen.
Though you loved her with all your being, but then she left you wounded
Now for your sake you should be thinking, it’s been a year, you should have mended.


(From the true story of Daniel, soul brother and friend, and the song by Elton John)
01 February, 2015
Story Poem Contest
Sponsor: Carol Eastman


Contest


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015

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Poet's Epitaph

"Xanadu of Oranges", the reporter wrote,
just one of many paper slips and notes,
left behind when the poet died, unquote.
To his very last moment, he had hopes
that he could write that one poem so supreme
in its cadence and rhyme, in its meaning
so sublime, that no one could miss his dream.
No one could misinterpret, none seeing
his words could mistake intent or lament
that he had regrettably missed his mark
or remark, "derivative!",or really meant
much of his work as only so much dark
comment on a personal life of strife and grief.
No, he meant a poem to sweep you off your feet.


Copyright © ahellas Alixopulos | Year Posted 2008

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The Country Road - Visual 3


The Country Road

Let’s walk the country road and faithfully
keep cadence with the heartbeat of the wild
where life, unveiled in naked truth, flows free.
Let’s walk the country road and faithfully
find simple joy with each new day, and see
the glow of innocence just like a child.
Let’s walk the country road and faithfully
keep cadence with the heartbeat of the wild.


© Sandra M. Haight 2015 
    All Rights Reserved

~1st Place~
Contest: One Lovely Summer Triolet
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Judged: 06/13/2015

Iambic Pentameter (English Version)


.


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

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Of Highland Breeze

His words like kisses, soft and light,
caress her rose-stained smile,
a heathered breeze on summer nights,
versed whispers to beguile.

With tenderness and silken brush,
sweet inklings of a scene
unfolds impressions, paints a blush,
she reads his thoughts between.

Upon his rune her heartbeat trips
through poppy fields in flower,
to golden sands where romance grips
in moonlit midnight hour.

The calming lilt of lapping tide
gives cadence to their love,
entwined as couplets, passions ride
‘neath liquid stars above.

Held apart by many a mile
mere dreams are hers this night,
his words alone caress her smile
with kisses, soft and light.


Copyright © Sharon Tideswell | Year Posted 2010

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Bagpipe Memories

I can hear them in the distance when the air is bright and clear They bring back bitter memories of a long ago yesteryear The whining of the pipes I can remember well, As they set the cadence for the men, who marched into pure hell. They were preceded by their banner - A Royal Scot Brigade – These tartan clad musicians were never known to fade. They always kept on playing as to battle they did go; The weather did not matter - blazing sand or bitter snow. When heroes of the clan are called and laid to rest, A single piper can be heard filling a last request. The one, who paid the piper, in our hearts, will ever be – His place will forever be a part of bagpipe memories. The whining still is heard and the wars continue on And will be with us forever until the pipes are done. Written by John Posey 12/22/14


Copyright © John Posey | Year Posted 2015

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An Ode to E. A. Robinson

Whispers of talent are carried on New England breezes
Dickinson, Hawthorne, and the Irvings’ son Washington
Though I sense a special connection to all of these
None inspired more than Edwin Arlington Robinson

Three Pulitzer Prizes were displayed on his mantle place
His childhood in Maine he described as “stark and unhappy”
Though he went to Harvard, academics he’d not embrace
Arlington’s style was unique and his cadence snappy

“Miniver Cheevy,” displaced soul, longed for Medieval years
To Miniver I could relate, felt I was born too late
Wishing I’d ridden West with America’s pioneers
But at least my dreams alcohol will never desecrate

For his depressed brother Herman, “Richard Cory” he wrote
A handsome man who appeared to enjoy the perfect life
But the turmoil in his heart, his exterior did not denote
Richard shot himself in the head to put an end to strife

Edwin, your character studies touched something deep inside
Struggles you described of common men gripped me, made me cry
People whose dreams and accomplishments did not coincide
I, too, watch life’s play from backstage, feeling like a standby

Though I seek to display wit, tragedies pour from my pen
And much like my muse, my life seems filled with loneliness
As poets we reach out to touch lives of men and women
Hoping to find comfort as troubled feelings we express


* Written for Jared's "Ode" contest

Edwin Arlington Robinson (December 22, 1869 – April 6, 1935) was an American poet 
born in Maine who won three Pulitzer Prizes for his work. His brother Dr. Dean 
Robinson died of a drug overdose, perhaps inspiring Robinson to write of the 
alcoholic dreamer “Miniver Cheevy.”. It has been speculated that his poem "Richard 
Cory" was penned for his other brother, Herman. E.A. Robinson’s poems have a dark 
pessimism stemming from dreams gone awry.  The style and themes of many of my 
poems seem to emulate Robinson, who often wrote in rhyming quatrains.  “Richard 
Cory” can be found at http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/richard-cory/.
To read “Miniver Cheevy,” go to 
http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/robinson/12640.


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010

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Old Soldiers

He sits in a wheelchair pushed to the curb.  The people around him move aside to assure he is able to see.  His shrunken body  a shell of what it used to be.  His breathing labored, aided by the tube that extends from the oxygen tank attached to his chair.  On his head, he sports a blue campaign cap with VFW stitched in gold.  He is one of America's finest, come to pay his respects.

Behind him stands a younger woman who has guided him there.  A daughter perhaps, fussing over him, adjusting the robe in his lap, assuring his comfort.  He shows no resistance to the attention, but simply sits and waits.
  
In the distance drums are heard, soon to be joined by the sound of horns.  A stirring march riffles over the crowd, and an electricity grips their senses.  Soon the call of cadence is heard. The measured tramp of boots, perfectly in time with the music. It grows louder until at last, a military formation looms into view.  Uniformed soldiers, marching in perfect rows, perfect columns, gleaming boots, ribboned chests, weapons at rest on their shoulders.  The crowd stirs.  Small flags are waved.  Cheers erupt.  Pride hangs thick in the air.

The color guard approaches.  Banners held high, snapping in the breeze.  Some spectators remove their caps while others cover their hearts.  Children, hoisted to their fathers shoulders, clap in excitement.

The old man tugs at the woman's sleeve and motions for her to come closer.  She leans down and listens as he speaks, then asks "are you sure"?.  He nods his head.  Walking to the front of the chair, she removes the robe and, grasping his outstretched hands, pulls him slowly to his feet, where he stands with her assistance.  Those around him watch as the frail, stooped body, with some difficulty, stands more erect.  They see the pain etched on his face, and the tear that escapes his eye as he offers a salute as the flag passes by.

Suddenly, the cadence count stops, and in it's place is heard a command .  A command  normally reserved for when passing a reviewing stand.  "Company, eyes right" the guidon bearer bellows, and with that, he returns the aging veterans salute, a sign of respect for an old soldier.  After all, it is his flag.  It is his country.  He bought them both many years ago.


Bob Quigley
Jan 10, 2012


Copyright © Bob Quigley | Year Posted 2012

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Ensnare My Heart

"Ensnare My Heart" By M. Taha Effendi (Ballad) O beautiful maiden of my captive heart, Are you not the lone bard's pompous muse? With allure that inspired the divine art, Heavens' hand made you with such delicate use, What sweet circumstance upon me befalls, My heart the endearing perfidy has plotted, Entombed in my bosom, it beats to your calls, Loves beyond reason the heart besotted, Let my soul swoon at your eternal beauty awhile, Mesmerize by sheer fineness of your chiseled cheek, Beguile by crimson roses that adorn your seraphic smile, Savor in you the beauty of which poets speak, Your eyes are gleaming lagoons of preserved vintage, Shades the cerulean ocean from their depths did lease, The jealous eye of heaven envies your radiant visage, The blushing moon embarrassed cowers beneath the seas, Would you shelter me in your silken veil perchance? That imbue elation in those who wander in its shade, And sways to cadence of zephyrs in an eternal dance, To invoke dark urges of soul with a sublime serenade,


Copyright © Mohammad Taha Effendi | Year Posted 2011